And so it begins once again; the difficulty of the moves strikes a chord, the thinness of the crimps rapes an obsession, the looming of the terror unhinges another step. The Kay Nest Aid Wall becomes a little more real, the plan becomes slightly more apparent. There's going to be no bolts. It's going to be death. The crux move is harder than I thought, but its possible. It's going to take a while to dial enough for a shot at the solo, but I can see that adventure happening and it might be happening sooner than I imagine.
The crux holds are absolutely superb. It's been a long time since I felt so at home on holds, and wanted to be on them so much. Similar to Fly Agaric or Psykovsky's Sequins, the holds themselves are worthy of worship. They're so outrageously thin, so perfectly square. They form themselves in a myriad of puzzlement. I'm still not quite sure which to use at what point throughout the move; I can do the move in a couple of ways, but I know I don't have the best sequence.
Sometimes on a climb you can look at the holds and know from just looking at them that there is a better way of doing the move than the way you are trying. I can see that there is a body position, hanging like it's on balloons, in the middle of that crux. It takes a lot of weight off the hands and that means the freedom to move. On sketchy cruxes the ability to move a digit is like an oasis in an otherwise locked-in mass of absorption.
The route is going to be bold, but it's becoming my friend.