These lines 'spread' that follow are born by chance. Charles sends me a text not yet finished with his prayer to read it. M'incuriosisco its history, and even as I read it I feel like a spectator of the events narrated. So, just for fun my fingertips suddenly begin to beat on the keyboard up to (re) write the same story through the eyes of someone looking. I am sending to Charles and he took inspiration from do not know what, he decided to merge the two texts. The result is something special even if it is a simple story. History of men and history of rocks. History of dreams that come true and daily story made of small gestures.
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BIRTHDAY GIFT
Matteo Bertolotti and Carlo Piovan - February 2010
This story begins in a small country inn.
This story tells of bottles dancing wildly with glasses are always empty.
The Charles has the best at all. His stories are seasoned with salt always the same but every time I hear someone ranting are fascinated.
The evening slips away like the wine in the throat and the Charles with a step ladder smuggler
hastily asphalt to reach the cot where this night will be rocked by its ghosts.
Sometimes things happen that you can not even imagine, despite the subdued day early, perhaps wrapped in fog doubtful that this issue right level of humidity that undermine the enthusiasm with which you got out of bed again with the taste red wine of the evening just passed, and you wonder if you were not better to stay under the warm blankets.
In the morning the sun does not want to heat the air and sweep the fog inland. The young Charles decided it was time to chase away the winter by putting his bones to play with the rocks.
The place is the same as always ... is the same that has imprisoned the first time he put the harness.
issue of imprinting ... maybe.
Suddenly everything changes, the sun dissolves overpowering fog and doubt, the rock is heated and rises even a slight breeze to take away a little bit of moisture from the air. Have you attempted only once, but you are not able to view, say that you tried, you did a tour as they say those strong, those who are held, those who ...
them there ... that way the few yards that would even think that way is to call it a curse for mountaineers. Yet Carlo on those rocks, today, decided to play his game. There are no referees and no fans. There is only the desire to climb the damn meter had already once rejected. The beauty of free climbing. The hard struggle with the Alpine in the past sent up the walls so many young men in search of a little 'but the glory of Charles of these things here just do not give a shit.
For him there is only freedom. The desire to move freely on those rough rocks.
The list of excuses to not try would be endless, the second output of the year, poor training, wet, your shoes stiff, cold hands, moon, stars, Jupiter and Saturn in Opposition. But if climbing a balancing act between the earth and the sky, said a loser who write reports on the web, then I want to play but also get involved and if you lose a little Fuck. Referrals system, clean the shoes, took a deep breath with my eyes closed and childbirth. The first meters are easy, I raise my hand I put in quite a hole full of water and mud and muskets, couple it into the hole and get up again a few feet with his hands dirty. The dry properly and focus, is part of the adhesion plaque cling to interpret a notch I get up and away, the wall becomes more vertical, I take a crack at some Dulfer 'athletic and landing below the roof. Now comes the key, I think, locking hard right as I can get up your feet and beginning to huff and now need to jump up.
Straight from where I was too hard up there are made good, while I stay there and your arms start to hurt, just look to the left and a horizontal slot comes to my aid, extension of an accident and I can get up a little to take a good knife on the roof. Now, the literary tradition that would begin an intense inner dialogue, which expresses notes of incitement and mental strength to continue, but in fact at that time none of that happened inside my head. I did not think, for me the world had been completely stopped the flow of thoughts like, go ahead following an instinct that I suggested to do the movements. Smell the rock, I heard the sound of branches blowing in the wind, taste the flavor of stone dust Hills. Fatigue occurs along with a cry that comes from the base of the cliff, a - ale - incitement to break the silence that was around and inside me. I hold the knife and get up over the roof, breathing deeply and force me to stay focused there are still 4 m to stop, I know that is easier but I must not distract me. Traverso one meter right into the slot end-jointed hands and feet, I push and I am out a couple of meters easy take me to the balcony where there is lowered. Is not a violent explosion of joy, but a mental and physical relaxation which I leave without thinking, almost
wanted to continue that feeling of mental isolation that accompanied me during the climb. Starts fell and with it the return to reality, I was able to climb Flash as they say the strong, clean I say.
The thoughtlessness brings Carlo fast enough to break the chain. Who was holding the rope even said that seemed to be dancing.
few days ago I turned 28 years old and this is the best gift I could do to me, I looked up a street with respect by the first moment I set foot in the cliff, which also correspond to my first experiences in the vertical. Happy Birthday Charles.
The wind suddenly resumed its journey to the west and those at the base of the wall you have seen the rise says he heard you say "Happy Birthday".
Suddenly the sun begins to kiss the cold rocks and even the trees begin to dance with the wind ... almost as if spring had arrived early. The
Carlo was given a clean ascent. The most useless gift of the year but perhaps the most beautiful because unexpected.
The Gift more beautiful because the most useless, as is our business, what's more, energetically expensive and economically irrelevant to climb a rock wall?!? I think he's the secret of happiness when I take the call, or to do something totally useless, and then exit, even if for brief moments, from the exhausting race to production activities, gestures and words that we do every day, hoping to gain a little piece of immortality.
