Force of Fate

One year.

Let me tell you something. It has been a year since our immigration status in the USA changed and I have become unemployable. It sucks; unemployment is the worst job. You cannot do only one thing, so between feeling sorry for myself, I started climbing again...

There are few boulderers here, but there is one called Tom who finds boulders walking Homer between the trails in Camden's Hills. He eagerly points me at steep ones and we try to climb them.

The first one I couldn't do was a 50 degree roof with three crimps spaced like campus rungs, too slopey to campus though. We had two sessions on it, and I thought I was close. I went to Europe and climbed some Font 7bs, tried to speak French, and went to a wedding is Croatia. When I came back, I bruised my knee, then I seem to have no memory, then I injured most of my fingers hanging on the finger board, I tried the traverse, and a pandemic happened.

Eventually, yesterday, we got back. Was it going to be easy? No. I was stronger, I knew that I was not close previously. The last move needed to be done almost static in order to have any hope of controlling a great swing when feet cut off. The landing disappears, once I flew past the mats and slid down the hillside. Once, I stuck the second degree move to the lip and scraggled my feet over. This is hardest problem in Camden (as far as I know), so I give it V9 and name it "Force of Fate" after a line in Homer's Iliad, vaguely to do with accepting your circumstances:

But even for me, I tell you,
death and the strong force of fate are waiting.
There will come a dawn or sunset or high noon
when a man will take my life in battle too—
flinging a spear perhaps
or whipping a deadly arrow off his bow.