A chalk bag sits open beside a shoe. Someone reaches toward it without looking down, still watching the wall. Across the room, a hand traces a movement in the air. The person beside it follows the gesture, then looks back at the holds. For a moment, nearly everyone I can see is occupied with climbing while remaining on the ground.
This is the part of an evening at the wall I tend to remember afterward. There may be one movement that stays particularly clear, but the room around it has its own sequence of events. People arrive, recognize somebody, find a place for a bag, and begin to look. The wall offers a focus before anyone has made an attempt.
Looking from the floor
From below, a set of holds can appear surprisingly straightforward. I can follow a possible sequence with my eyes and feel quite satisfied with the account I’ve made of it. Then someone begins moving, and the distance between the imagined sequence and the person’s actual position becomes apparent. A shape I had barely noticed occupies their attention. Something I had considered central passes with very little ceremony.
