101 Places Kelsey Gray Has Been
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48. Hugging Trees
O' jungle, provide for me refuge in peace;
Giants, perform with your symphonic leaves;
Heavens accompany, send me a breeze;
Part of me stays in this place
As I go.
Nothing directly compares;
This I know.
49. Walking the Log Jam
When faced with something new,
The only thing to do
Is follow your sense of adventure and then
Go see where it takes you to.
If problems should arise -
Predicted or surprise -
Confront them directly and soon I expect
You'll be leaving them far behind.
Just take it bold and quick,
And use your muscles and wit;
With confident stride take your life for a ride,
But try not to fall in the drink!
50. Free-Solo
Do the things you think you can't:
Impossibilities;
Limits break and fall away:
You are completely free.
And as the world looking on
Wonders when they see,
Inspire, encourage, and help the souls
Bound like we used to be.
51. Wrapping Up the Day
What did you do in a year?
When will it all disappear?
You sit and think back, oh have you lost track?
Do memories great persevere?
Where have you been in a month?
Do you even notice the sun?
It takes away time every hour it climbs,
A progress that can't be undone.
Who did you see in a week?
To how many friends did you speak?
Do they recognize you? Are you someone they knew?
Is the mood and the attitude bleak?
How've you lived for a while?
Have the things that you've done made you smile?
Can you remember last season's September?
Or maybe it wasn't worthwhile.
Break! I encourage you all!
Make your life's tales enthrall!
Don't sit and rot 'til your time you've forgot!
Let it all loose! Have a ball!
Why do you want to be down?
What kind of good is a frown?
Put joy on your face, or it's all been a waste,
And you might as well not be around!
When are the times you'll recall?
Make more of them! Excellent, all!
Go down in the end with a body that's spent,
Then thankfully, happily, fall.
This I implore you to do:
To every last second imbue,
With life unsurpassed, because it's gone so fast,
It's not gonna wait up for you.
What did you do in a year?
When will it all disappear?
52. Running it WAY Out
The far from meditative contemplation of the leader
When the pro is far below him where the climbing isn't easy
Motivates a sort of hasty drive inside him to retreat;
But that presents another sort of trouble.
Because in turning round and heading swiftly to the ground the
Climber knows he'll take a pounding in his noggin from the sounding
Of his own internal droning "Could have done it! Next time 'round!"
He'll hear it till he clears it with the send.
So when you are presented with this certain sort of tension
And the fear inside you tears your eyes with searing apprehension
And your insides work against you telling you to cease ascent;
Remember: "When in doubt: run it out!"
53. Making the Clip
Arms fatiguing, muscles flexed
Limbs are shaking; even bets
He blows it ere the rope is clipped
And logs some flying time!
54. Overcoat-Clad in A Darkened Outbuilding
A secret's a thing to be kept in the dark
In a lonely and quarantined state.
To be visited only occasionally
If it's meant that the secrecy stays.
For the more it's uncovered the shorter the life
And in no time it's gone; So hark!
If a secret you have and a secret you'd keep,
Then keep it in close to your heart.
55. Walking Up Pitches of Slab
I'm in a sea of granite, waving onward endlessly
With not a stable spot, and yet no movement I can see.
There's not a ship around, but there are anchors holding strong
And keeping me from drifting free to where I don't belong.
I'm high and dry in comfort, very seldom do I think -
Oh! Shudder at the thought - of what would happen if I sink.
The lines are taught, the rigging sound, a breeze disrupts the air,
And trunks and baggage left in far-off lands contain my cares.
It's only me and ragged teams of others like-of-mind
That drift around these empty oceans, leaving the world behind.
This life is filled with happy thrills, there's nowhere else I'd be
Than in a sea of granite, living high and flying free.
56. Pulling Down on Man-Made Holds
Sometimes the city life will keep us down
And coop us up indoors for days on end,
And people compensate by hanging round
The mall or socializing with their friends;
A climber's forced to settle, here in town,
With substituted mountainous ascents.
57. Upside-Down - Or Dangling Dangerously...?
I'll turn your world upside-down,
Just take a walk with me,
And follow me to where I go
And see the things I see.
A new perspective's good for you,
And understanding dawns
Sometimes when things are viewed anew
That used to just be "wrong".
58. Topping Out After Dark
Year after year keeps on finding us here
At the tops of so many tall routes;
Be it slowness or lateness or simply poor plans,
It is dark by the time we top out.
And the danger we faced as our altitude raised
Is compounded - or so they all say -
By the absence of light as the darkness of night
Takes the clarity out of the day.
But year after year hasn't brought us a tear
While we're finding our holds with our hands,
As the vastness below shrinks to blackness we go
All the way to the top, as we'd planned.
59. Holding His Camera Very Still
A few minutes here and it's absolute clear
Without even need to remark:
These caverns were made to be seen and surveyed
Not hidden away in the dark!
60. Walking the Very First Bridge Over the Brazos
I'm doing it wrong, you say?
I'm sorry, but this is my way.
The rest of the masses can trod formal paths
Without me, thank you. Good day!
61. Between Heaven and Earth
I've been to the Heavens, high over the clouds,
And looked to horizons beyond distant mounts,
Where atmosphere brightens so far from the ground;
My life is enlightened, my tension unwound,
No longer does even the Earth hold me bound
My limits are infinite everywhere 'round!
But in present dimensions, one rule is still found;
In time, what goes up must come down.
62. Publishing A Rock Climbing Guidebook
There's been many a sketch go from naught to success
Drawn by hand using napkins and things.
That's the route that I took, so I'm writing a book,
On the case for a vacuum machine.
63. Standing Impossibly Tall
How did I get way up here, you ask?
Well that was the easy part!
It's getting and going we do all the time,
With hardly a need to remark.
And in getting up here, why, the avenue's clear,
It wasn't so very profound;
But here is a thought: Now that I'm at the top,
How am I gonna get down???
64. Using No Hands
Did you notice the route's overhanging a bit,
And I'm climbing with only my feet?
Take a look, just in case, so you know I've a place
In the ranks of the climbing elite!
65. Feeding the Wildlife
My fare I have shared with a grizzly bear,
A collossal insatiable gent;
He came and he saw, and he took all he wanted -
Behind us, you see, as we went!
My dining room I have shared with a 'coon,
Who tossed us a glance in mid-stride,
Then reached his wee hand in a garbage can,
And off with a pizza he flied.
My baggage has hid many kinds of 'rachnids,
From "BIG GIANT HAIRY" to "small,"
And some folks would say with a little dismay,
It's a shame that I hain't crushed 'em all.
I have witnessed a girl sharing food with a squirrel -
Unwillingly though, off her plate;
So I lent her the back of a hand with a smack
That sent the beast flying away.
My pack has been looted by things I'd have shooted,
If only I'd known they were there.
It's not that I hate them, it's just that they break in
And rip-mangle-shred-bite and tear!
Never far from my mind are the beasts that I find
In conjunction with walls that I climb:
There's been scorpions, centipedes, rattlesnakes, bats,
Even monkeys, both evil and kind.
It would seem in the shade alongside forest glade,
That I shared the serenity there.
It's a presence, you see, keeping me company,
Though my vision sees naught but a hare.
In the future I hope to meet more of these folks
In a manner I haven't seen yet:
For the int'resting chances and strange circumstances
Make mem'ries I'll never forget!
66. Lost in the Fog
It's raining today and I'm somewhere inside
Where a false life attempts to equate to the true;
In a room engineered so it feels just right
And yet somehow I'm still a bit blue.
A knob on the wall sets the temp'rature here
Keeping things just the same, never cold, never hot.
Humidity too is controlled through the year
So I'm cozy - except that I'm not.
The music around me is stuff that I like,
Dynamically chosen by networks of peers.
Though carefully screened and selected I find
Some distinctly unsatisfied ears.
A microwave fixes my meal in minutes,
My coffee's exactly two hundred degrees.
The shower is hot just as soon as I'm in it,
And somehow I can't be at ease.
I'm always in touch with my closest of friends
Getting updates by phone, via text, and online.
There's dozens of invites for things to attend.
For the moment, at least, I'll decline.
It's true that the weather is lousy out there,
And the climate and atmosphere's certainly wrong,
But the longer I sit here the more I'm aware
That outside is where I belong.
67. Wandering the Dunes
It's empty.
Empty and quiet and still;
And the ocean of sand reaches out on the land to the bottom of far distant hills,
Under brightness of light shining radiant, bright,
overwhelming with whiteness the powers of sight!
Occasional blowing will keep the dunes going with
shifting and growing and ripples unknowing.
Who knows but the sand will inhabit the land even
after the absence of man,
And be empty and quiet, still?
Maybe it will.
68. Staying Out of the Water
I recognize a greater pow'r than I;
An energy unmeasured in the sea,
Where dark and quiet pressures underlie
A frothy chaos speckled with debris.
I'll stand afar and watch for just a bit -
To join the fray would be to find my grave -
Through all of time this power never quits,
And man has never conquered wild waves.
69. Not Quite Snowbound
I am bound by the will to be free;
To have nothing on Earth with such greatness of worth
That I cannot take off and be me.
And I'm tied with desire to raise the bars higher;
Make nothing impossible! See?
The sky is the limit, and soon I'll be in it.
I'm bound by the will to be free.
70. Clustered at the Sixth Pitch
Here,
These ones go over there,
And give me your anchor, I'll clip you in twice,
We'll rap on one rope and we'll carry these lines,
Just check all your knots and your locks so we're fine;
We're ready, as far as I know,
I'll see you below!
71. Under the River Ice
I sense an icy pressure bearing down,
As if to try to crush the life from me.
It freezes me so I can't travel round,
And blocks my sight of places I should be.
But though the wall is thick, I've always found
A crack, a shaft of light where I can see;
And by the time the pressure crushes down,
I'll slip away to somewhere warm and free.
72. Already At the Top
Reach out and I'll give you a hand
And lend you a little more power,
In only a minute you'll stand
With me on the top of the tower.
73. Going For A Swim
In things that are strange or impossibly odd,
I've made it my mission to thrive:
If you think my swimming is something to see,
Then wait till you see my high dive!
74. Basking in the Rays of the Sun
We came for the climbing;
We stopped for the cold.
We cuddled for cozy,
We watched o'er the snow.
We waited for warmth,
We never were so;
We went off to find it,
We knew where to go.
75. Building A Battering Ram
Where once was one a-wandering, a story there began;
Or rather just continued-on a tale as long as time:
One chanced upon another one, and one the two became,
Their happiness and love together greatly multiplied.
Through time and trial they forged ahead, and two-in-one made three,
And blessings never ceasing quickly brought them four and five.
The one who started out with nothing built a family,
And raised them up in certainty that each of them would thrive.
Now fate has bared her fickle fangs: the world is minus one,
But hardly should the story end because that he is gone;
It only grows and takes three roads diverging from the one,
And with these three, forever-long, the tale continues on.
76. Shooting A Chipmunk's Portrait
Determine that it shall be done,
And then we will find you the way.
There's not a thing under the sun
That's really impossible; nay -
Whenever a problem should come,
Just give it an hour or day
Considering what can be done,
And soon you'll discover a way.
77. Making Camp
A good night's sleep is what I'm after,
Now the day is spent.
A minute more I'll have it, once I've
Room to pitch a tent.
78. Climbing Really Hard
FALLING!
And quick as a wink I surrender my link
To the firma and now I'm cast into the brink
And the air all around me is starting to sing
With a whir and a whiz as so quickly I sink
And it's blurry and I don't have time now to blink
With the neurons all firing so fast I can't think,
But despite that I'm flying forever it seems
And it's ages go by ere I'm caught with a
YANK!!!
79. In A Sopping Desert
I am a collector and I travel all the earth,
Measuring and taking things I feel are of some worth.
And bringing them to fill my halls with what I love to see;
It's not for wealth or science, it's a drive inside of me.
I am a collector taking samples here and there,
And each is valuable to me, though others mightn't care.
I have a vast display to show the world what I find,
But also, in a hidden place, a few are only mine.
I am a collector, but I only take my share,
And when I do, there's more for you, if only you were there.
You can come as well and it would not be impolite,
And you can take a lot, you see, it's literally light.
I am a collector and I hope to leave the scene
A better place with my collection living after me.
With all that I've accumulated when my time is up,
I hope that others looking on will, too, be lifted up
80. Adjusting to His Environment
Be ye predator or prey
Throughout the fleeting days of life,
There are times to startle, awe,
And times for wild streaking flight.
Times to make a statement bold,
To leave an impact where you've been;
But then you'll find at other times,
It's better to blend in!
81. Checking Over His Photographs
I've heard of a style of black and of white,
And no other colors between,
I'm trying the same except mine will be quite
A bit different: Just orange and green.
82. Blowing in the Wind
We met him on a tower over fifty stories high,
A pleasant desert morning with the sunlight peeking out;
He passed us on the trail and we groaned as he went by:
The first one to the base would be the first to climb the route.
His limbs and face were thin and gaunt, his skin was darkly tanned,
Atop his head a frizzled mop that looked electrified;
His gear was draped across his back, he was a climbing man,
Its wear and tear declared his dirtbag status, bonafide.
We prob'ly looked defeated when he beat us to the climb,
But soon his generosity had brightened things a bit.
We'd barely introduced, and like his friends as old as time,
He welcomed us to join him, and a giant team was knit.
He spoke with gusto, gesturing, a ranting wild speech,
And told of things extravagant he'd done, and where he'd been;
We quickly found the likelihood of truth was out of reach,
His stories broke the limits of a life the likes of him.
His voice was sort of raspy with a lazy hippie drawl,
And rambled on without a lot of silence anywhere;
He talked of places, faces, things, events he could recall,
And somehow our adventures couldn't seem to quite compare.
He spoke the names of legends never met and seldom seen,
And more than that he dropped them like they were the best of friends;
Celebrities, and sev'ral, so we knew it couldn't be,
Impossible, we thought, that they'd be tied to this loose end.
He had a house in Thailand, and a couple more around,
Established first ascents at secret crags in Cali's south;
He never mentioned work, and yet he travelled much, we found,
And every pitch he'd pack a bong and suck it to his mouth.
The only name he gave us at the time was of a myth,
A monster wearing hair of snakes, and somehow it was right.
His hair stood on its own, it's true, and so the handle fit,
And probing didn't strike us necessary or polite.
The day was sweet, the climb was awesome, quickly came the night,
And we, in parting, chuckled some at what the day had brought.
The man was unbelievable, preposterous outright,
His life was just impossible. It couldn't be, we thought.
But in the days that followed, doubt would slowly trickle in,
As things he said became supported, evidence accrued;
We couldn't really say for certain, but it seemed within
That maybe - just perhaps - it all could possibly be true.
The man was nothing, clearly just a dirtbag on the road,
We knew the type, we'd seen a thousand in our traveled past,
But things were coming up that proved the truth of what he told;
Could such a life belong to this societal outcast?
We saw him only once again before we hit the road -
The ratty tank and shorts he wore depicted where he'd been.
It happened in the lobby of an elegant abode,
The rooms were sev'ral hundred bucks - the bum was checking in!
We left him as we traveled on to places we were not,
But brought along a question of the possibilities;
Could this decrepit king be all he ranted on about?
Is there a chance that such a life could ever really be?
83. Standing Out Above the Rest
Gazing down from higher peaks
I see the world, my heart it leaps.
Overcome by potent passions
Joyous thrills within me seep.
Emerald carpet, on it runs,
The constant motion never done.
Swaying branches, lofty foliage
Glowing green in golden sun.
Torrents pass beneath the bridge
Far distant now, a bent knife edge.
Green it twists and sparkles too,
a silent surge below my ledge.
Amber, blue, a suave maroon,
The sky shows off its awesome hues.
A puff of cloud, an eagle high,
And on the air a scent of dew.
Coffee brews, I sip and sigh,
The stress and worry I defy.
Were there never times like these,
I could not live, I'd surely die.
Squirrels chatter from the trees
And Mother Nature is at ease.
Sheep like specks on distant hills,
The scent of pine upon the breeze.
Wilderness around instills
A plethora of stunning thrills.
Moments seem to last for weeks,
for nothing else this need fulfills.
84. Establishing New Routes
To everything a purpose and a reason to exist,
If it be small or big and tall, there's nothing to be missed.
Just take a look at anything, it's sure that you will see
The purposes for things to live, and move, and breathe,
and be.
These feet are made to wander, and it's true they've done
their share;
Through desert sands and mountain streams they've been
from here to there.
Across the oceans, round the world, in far off continents,
They've walked the roads and wilds there, and left their
tiny print.
These hands are made for heavy use in every kind of way,
And true they show it in their skin, the scars of prior days.
They've been employed to build, destroy, to help, and
even hurt,
And when I'm gone, fore'er anon will live their handiwork.
These eyes were made to help record a million memories,
Of sights and places, things created, stories they have seen;
They're made to take the world in, both everything and all,
So voice can tell and hands can pen the stories to enthral.
For everything a purpose, and I feel a part of mine
Is bringing back adventure to the ones who've been declined
The chance to have it for themselves, whate'er the reason be,
I live a life adventuresome, so all can live through me.
85. Climbing Out the Daylight Hours
I see new beauty ev'ry day,
It's everywhere I turn;
No matter where I look there's always
Some I can discern.
At times I have to sit and look
And find it very small,
But other times it's so profound
There's nothing else at all.
You can see it too, you know,
Just take the time and look,
Relax, unwind, and soon you'll find
A world you've overlooked.
86. Above His Last Piece
Call me a traveler, rambler, vagabond,
Homeless, and maybe I'm lazy, somewhat.
With all due attention to these that I've mentioned,
Remember, there's also some things that I'm not:
I'm no kind of criminal low-life, and women
I'll never be found to have beat or abused.
I'll not tell a lie, and the things that I buy
Are not symbols, but things that are meant to be used.
I am not on the list of the people who wish
They had traveled an alternate path in their life,
I am not broken down, I'm not always a clown,
And I'm not one who lives by a gun or a knife.
Perhaps not the best, but I'm not unsuccessful,
I'm not something small to be pushed to the side;
I'm not insignificant, yet I'll admit that
It's doubtful my name will be known worldwide.
So call me the things that I am and you're right,
And some of the hurtful ones even are true.
But in calling me names, do keep something in mind:
Remember the things a man's NOT matter too.
87. Taking A Moment
O Time, stand still, I'll linger here,
You needn't travel fast.
A moment thus should take all year
To slowly wander past.
I'll drift away from terra firm,
A single body's span,
And if you'll let me tarry there,
You'll make a happy man.
There's many things should pass in blinks,
But here I'd like to stay,
To breath in all the sights and sounds,
If it takes me all day.
But if you must, leave me behind,
Release me from your cuffs:
O Time, just let me linger here,
Until I've had enough.
88. Sleeping In
A tale is kept in the places we've slept;
Each night is another few lines,
I've pen in my hand, so I've taken the chance
To tell you some tales of mine -
Where I've reclined:
We bedded down once at the set of the sun,
Under skies of a glittering black,
We stretched out on the sand, (in the desert, you can)
With a few hundred miles at our backs.
In the stillness unbroken we slept until woken
By soft pitter-pattering feet,
And just as we glanced at each other by chance,
A coyote passed inbetween
With eyes a-gleam.
Was a time we slept proud where it wasn't allowed
Looking up at the mightiest rock;
Recalling, it seemed we were living a dream,
And a happy one: never got caught -
Although we ought!
Another long day and a country away
We were stretched on a crystalline beach,
Where the crabs skittered round and the incessant sound
Of the waves gently lulled us to sleep.
Before daylight had come we were watching the sun
As it brightened the tips of the crests,
And the pelicans squawked as our shutters took shot
After shot, and the morning impressed.
For sure, we're blessed.
Oh - a note, just in case you've a wanderer's taste,
And you ever wind up in the dark,
At the end of the day as you're searching a way
To a place where your body can park -
Listen well to experience, though you be weary and
Just want to crash in the sack:
Consider the TRAIN, 'cause the noise is insane,
And avoid pitching right by the tracks!
And that's a fact.
89. Pulling On Gear
Take a seat, listen well, for the story I tell
Is of purpose to you who would hear it,
It's a story of boldness, but carefully told,
Lest the telling run off those who fear it!
I was there when unstoppable reached an impasse,
And I watched the ensuing results;
The unstoppable force was a climber of sorts,
And a reticent rock the insult.
He had conquered them all, from the small to the tall,
And the difficult, chossy, and mank,
Man alive, he had drive! Didn't strive to survive,
Simply pushed to the front, like a tank.
He was built like one too: just a look and you knew
Not to get in his way as he went;
A mahogany hide covered muscles the size
To make paltry the toughest ascent.
I was there when he carried his rack to the rock,
And he tied himself in to the rope,
Just formalities these, for he never would need
The protection the gear would bestow.
He set out with a leap and the first hundred feet
Never fazed him, not even a bit,
And it looked like he'd walk right on up to the top,
Just as easy as lickety-split.
Then he came to a roof sticking out overhead
With a series of cracks running through,
So he shoved in a mitt to pull over the lip,
And to bid the small problem adieu.
And he rounded the lip, but he struggled a bit
As he looked for a hold to be found,
But the hold wasn't there, and he paused as the air
Drifted ominous, heavy around.
Then the clock seemed to stop and he hung from the block
With the sweat dripping down from his skin,
As the minutes went passed, he was still buggered fast,
And he realized the fix he was in.
Like a monster he bulged from his tips to his toes,
And beneath me I felt the earth shake,
Then it jumped with the shock when a piece of the rock
Broke away in his hand like a flake.
Here he strained with a shout, and you'll probably doubt,
But the sky started turning to black,
And the wildlife flew, and the rocks tumbled too
As the Chimera Crux held him back!
Black as night, dark as sin, and a thundering din;
The apocalypse weighted my back,
And then just as I knew my existence was through,
He relinquished his holds and relaxed.
What a thing happened then as the light trickled in
And my future began to form hope;
All the dust cleared away and I saw his dismay
As he hung at end of his rope!
He had failed! He was stopped! The impassible rock
Loomed above him all quiet and mute,
As he panted and thought o'er the moves that had
blocked him,
And yet he was still resolute.
And this is my story of overthrown glory:
The weakness and strength of a man;
His pride had been swallowed, but he never wallowed
And whimpered: he formed a new plan.
Climbing back up the rock to the place he'd been stopped,
He resolved to continue on farther.
The summit was there looming high in the air,
And he'd gain it one way or another.
This would not be the day he relinquished the way,
And returned to the firma defeated,
So he pushed the attack, and without turning back...
He pulled on his gear, and he cheated!
90. Cranking Really Hard
I'm solid as a rock, and crushing;
Limber as a deer, and fleet;
Tender as a whisper hushing;
Steady as a drum that beats.
I'm happy as a clam, and smiling;
Find me, stake a claim; I'm gold.
Bedded in the rock: a piling,
Charming as a prince, I'm told.
I'm trusting as a dove, and cooing,
Speedy as a snake, I strike!
Quiet as an owl, and watching,
Deeper than the darkest night.
I'm hopeful as a dream, and happ'ning;
Fleeting as a thought, I'm gone;
Growing as a slender sapling;
Music, line, and verse: I'm song.
91. Displaying Nervous Apprehension
This is the time when your life's on the line,
About to drop over the brink,
With nothing below 'til the base of the wall,
Yes, this is the time not to think.
92. Sitting Out the Rain
I search for the kingdom
Where nestles my home;
Where all that I want
Is all that I own;
And people are happy,
And none are alone.
I'll search till I find it:
The whole world round.
93. Jamming
It's a tight spot,
But that's what gets me higher.
The fact it's thin and squeezing in allows me to acquire
A handhold here, a foothold there, and soon I'm at the top;
And I can see I'd not succeed,
Without a tight spot.
94. Walking The Line
I walk the line.
And forces try to put me down,
To send me falling to the ground,
They never do let up, I've found.
But still I walk the line.
The very air around resists,
It shakes me with its fluid fists,
With every step the wind persists.
And yet I walk the line.
My footing wobbles, shakes and dips,
A heaving, jerking, stretchy whip,
That lives to toss me from my grip;
It fails! I walk the line!
My mind and body don't agree
That where I am, I ought to be;
My heart says "yes!" My mind cries "FLEE!"
And still I walk the line!
The end is only steps away,
And reaching it is all it takes
To end this frantic, mad ballet.
Today, I walk the line!
95. Exploring the Air Element
I'm upside-down in air again,
And falling toward the earth.
This seems to happen now and then,
(You'd think that I would learn),
But here I am, and here I go,
I'm flying, going down.
It won't be very long at all,
Until I've reached the ground.