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Creative Writng English Essay: Between a Rock and…Another Rock.

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Creative Writng English Essay: Between a Rock and...Another Rock. Nick Mastroddi 10P 5.5.01 'C'est le meme chose d'une...cliff.' (It's the same as a...cliff.) I looked up at the wall. And up. And up. Perhaps the description of the wall as a cliff isn't fair. I have seen few cliffs in my life that were quite that sheer. The sports centre's climbing wall, for one reason or another, was by the far the most interesting and expensive section of the whole building, which also happened to comprise two Olympic standard swimming pools, over twenty tennis courts and a gyroscopic exercise wheel. This was possibly the second most expensive piece of equipment, definitely the most useless - being somewhere between an oversize hamster wheel and a spinning top - and I used it twice a day. If you know the experience of coming off a running machine, perhaps you could imagine that feeling of abject confusion acting in all 3 dimensions at once. This was all situated on four storeys, with a clear pyramid roof over the top. This was already very high, I thought as I walked through the sports hall entrance towards the stairs. Of course, it wasn't quite high enough for the climbing wall. The wall actually extended underground for another few storeys. It was a simulated cliff face designed to replicate the environment you experienced if you took advantage of the excellent Alpine climbing faces in the local area, except that on the muddy brown rock were five different trails. ...read more.


I had already been to an archery course in the morning, where the instructor had not spoken a single work of English, and his communication with me had been based entirely on two words - 'tirez' and 'tres bien', 'pull' (in reference to the bow) and 'very good' (in reference to some of my shots, and anything else that didn't fall under 'pull'). Within minutes I was strapped into a harness, connected to a purple cable, and was making my way up the first trail. As I abseiled down, all I could think about was the window. I watched it slowly disappearing from view as I descended into the shadows. Over the next few days, I scaled all three of the artificial trails. On the day I scaled the fourth, my younger brother had decided to join me at the course. He'd been infected by my new-found enthusiasm - suitably demonstrated that morning when I had decided to tie my shoelaces in the 'figure-of-eight' knot I'd learned for the climbing cable. I hadn't yet managed to take them off. It was a terrible mistakes. Not only the shoelaces, but deciding to go to the course with my brother. Climbing anywhere requires three things - trust, confidence and courage, the three being inextricably linked. When my brother discovered that he did, in fact, have absolutely no talent for climbing and no will to listen the instructor, he took to shouting at me when I was climbing. ...read more.


His expression suddenly turned quite serious. I looked at his pale blue eyes. I understood Bill Bryson when I read his description of the men who walk the Appalachian trails and can then look at the dying sunset with 'chipped granite eyes'. Jean had those chipped granite eyes. He looked sternly at me, ignoring the bruised arm I was gently scratching - after seeing the black stain on my inner arm where the bow string kept hitting, just out of reach of the pad that was supposed to prevent it, my archery instructor had added the word 'idiote' to his vocabulary list - and I looked back at him with wide, puppy-dog eyes. I thought I might cry. It seemed like the reasonable thing to do. 'Do you think I would let you fall?' 'No. Maybe. I don't know.' I squeaked. 'Who do you trust, me or your stupid little brother?' He asked. This made me break into a smile with childish awe at the use of the word 'stupid'. No adult except my parents had ever called my brother 'stupid'. I giggled, and Jean smiled again. 'So, are you going to try to climb that wall now?' I nodded and walked back over to it. The light at the top once more fascinated me. When I reached the top, the sunlight was dazzling. The wind played with my hair, and I clutched the window frame to look out. The sun was high over the mountains, and all I could se was green forest and grey rock, the small town was below me and behind me, out of sight. I closed my eyes, and reached one hand out under the window. Absolution. ...read more.

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