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In what we will come to see as pure evil,
some sick "friends" openly admired my feat of strength.
They cloyed me with all manner of praise. They said things like
"You da man!" and "Mr. Hengeveld, you just became
my hero."
Deliriously buoyed by my success, I secretly fancied myself
a hardman. "What," I thought to myself, "is
all this fuss about wide stuff. It's pretty easy!"
And so it came to pass that I began, rather publicly, to wonder
why nobody climbed the classic offwidths in the neighbourhood.
"Why," I wondered aloud, "doesn't anybody ever
do Pipeline? I know it's offwidth
and everything, but I'm sure it's not as bad as people let on."
I began to seriously believe that climbers are just afraid
of a good grunt. And my spouting grew, and grew, until it reached
epic proportions. Eventually, it was known all over the kingdom
that I was keen to do offwidths. And it was true. All that remained
was for me to actually get on one, and that chance came on a
fine day in June, the following year... |
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