Technical blankness envelopes the starting climber. You straight away get a feeling of 'perchedness' and you're already at a considerable height. The beginning's effects are two-fold. You feel incredibly vulnerable, but also like you're flying. It gears you up and sends you floating into the heart of the arete.
As we're approaching the time for the solo, it's these thoughts that I'm convincing myself of. Such a looming challenge creates a massive presence in your life that really starts to dominate day-to-day thoughts. It's similar to a traditional headpoint in many ways, but more fractious in its effects on your mind. Eventually, you've thought about it so much and know it so well that you think it's time to go for it and you can no longer just stay in the present. If you can't create certainty of outcomes, you can create certainty of motive. If I fall off this thing, I hope people approach my actions with an open mind and try and understand. I hope that one day someone will take up the baton of Moors new wave climbing and we'll all have to stop hiding behind gimmicks. There's a new level of risk that we've shied away from, hiding behind the normalising repertoire of the climbing media. Raw Moors smashes this to pieces.