BXBX NOVEL Chapter 109: Free Solo Climbing
Chapter 109: Free Solo Climbing
Situated in the Provence region of southern France, the Verdon Gorge was also a famous holiday destination. Here, there were not only world-renowned rosé wines and lavender fields blooming in July but also the enchanting Lake Sainte-Croix with its mesmerizing scenery, not to mention the southern delicacies that were irreplaceable parts of French cuisine. Germans, Britons, Swedes, and others tirelessly drove long distances to reach here, seizing the last tail of summer to revel.
However, the Verdon Gorge, stretching for twelve miles, was both tumultuous and tranquil. The calm stretches of water were bustling with noise, while the swift currents were imposing and rugged, roaring under the sunlight. The deep brown cliffs were covered with lush green vegetation, towering into the sky, silent and serene. Rocks and abysses, wilderness and desolation, green water and rainbow shadows, blue sky and eagles... The tranquility was like a paradise, the wind carrying the distant roar from the depths of the gorge, dissipating the summer heat in an instant.
"Are you okay?"
A hoarse voice echoed above the riverbed of the gorge, soon swallowed by the raging waters. Upon closer inspection, one could see a middle-aged man with braided ponytails, wearing loose shorts, bare-chested, revealing a muscular physique. A black pouch hung from his waist, its opening covered in white chalk powder. Apart from that, he had nothing else, suspended emptily on the steep cliff wall—his hands relaxed yet tense, gripping two small protrusions, his feet not touching any support, hanging in mid-air, at least thirty meters above the ground, his entire body relying solely on the strength of his fingers to maintain.
Such a sight, just imagining it, was enough to send shivers down one\'s spine, difficult to imagine that the slightest lapse of attention, sweaty palms, or relaxed fingertips could lead him to plummet in freefall, turning into a mangled corpse.
Yet now, he seemed relaxed, wearing a smile on his face, even having the leisure to chat!
"Haha. I\'m fine."
About fifteen meters below him, there was a small rock protrusion, merely the size of a handkerchief, where a young man stood with one foot on the protrusion, his right hand gripping a crack in the rock above. Then he leaned outwards, the fierce wind whistling past, as if he were an open window being slammed shut, his back slamming solidly against the cliff, some stray rock fragments falling down. It seemed like his right hand and foothold were precarious, but he appeared leisurely, standing high, gazing into the distance at the green and blue horizon, the gloom and turmoil between his eyebrows somewhat relieved.
Clad in black shorts and a white T-shirt, with a waist bag of chalk powder, he also had a bright yellow climbing rope around his waist. However, unlike the traditional image of a climber, the rope did not descend from above but extended downward from his waist, with a large coil of climbing rope visible on the ground. Obviously, this rope was not an aid for climbing but a safety measure, or a quick tool for descent.
Yet even so, it made one\'s palms sweat and heart race to watch.
He looked up and glanced at the middle-aged man above him. "If I said I\'m contemplating life, would you believe me?"
This jest made the middle-aged man laugh heartily. "Well, you\'ve chosen a splendid place for it. I must say, you have taste." He nodded towards the young man below. "Good luck!"
With that said, the man exerted force with both hands, flipping himself upright, then his feet touched the rock, feeling around for a moment, finding a foothold, he let go with his left hand, swinging his body in mid-air, about to collide with the cliff, but his left foot stretched out as a cushion, slowing his speed, then his left hand reached up, grabbing another small protrusion.
He didn\'t rush to continue exerting force but carefully felt around, confirming the strength of his left hand before adjusting his breath and beginning to climb upward step by step, like a gecko, without using any equipment or protection. Agile and nimble, blending seamlessly with the wind, rocks, and sky.
Renly watched somewhat entranced, a hint of envy and longing in his eyes.
His ultimate goal was also to climb without any tools, relying solely on his strength and a bag of chalk powder, scaling the cliffs directly. Of course, as a beginner, he had a lot to learn. In comparison to top-rope climbing, free solo climbing wasn\'t just more dangerous and thrilling; it also demanded a higher level of physical fitness because any slight error or mistake would leave no room for correction.
This was only Renly\'s third attempt at real free solo climbing. Though he didn\'t use any tools to ascend, he still carried a climbing rope, quickdraws, and carabiners. After climbing a certain height without tools, he would use a quickdraw to secure himself to a bolt, ensuring that in case of a fall, the safety measures could save his life.
It had been three weeks since the end of the filming of "Buried." The filming had finished six days ahead of schedule, completing all the shots inside the studio in just eight days. Rodrigo would now proceed with the shooting of dubbing performances, followed by the post-production editing phase.
In the last three days of shooting, Renly had been trying to immerse himself once again in that feeling between losing control and maintaining it, but failed. He no longer felt that sense of losing control that had permeated his entire performance until the end, driving all of his acting. However, for Renly, although filming had wrapped up, his character had not ended.
He remained immersed in the world of Paul Conroy, but unlike in the movie, he had survived. Yet, things were not so simple, having experienced the fear of being buried alive, the threat of the Grim Reaper\'s scythe, and the trauma of being abandoned by the government and the company, even though he survived, his soul remained deeply wounded. Many times, physical wounds could heal immediately, but mental scars would linger for a long time.
It was like Eugene Sledge in "The Pacific." What Renly was most curious about was how Eugene managed to return to normal life after his faith and soul were shattered. Now, as "Paul," he was experiencing the same.
He had awakened, able to distinguish between illusion and reality, realizing that he was Renly, not Paul, but the mental trauma lingered in his mind, as if he had truly experienced a miraculous escape from being buried alive, leaving him with a sensation of spiritual fragmentation.
What was worse, his sleep quality had not improved much. Sleeping was more satisfying for him than food and dessert combined. But now, the nightmares persisted. After wrapping up the film, he had been having the same dream, finding himself back in that coffin, about to be buried alive. Each dream was similar, each fear and despair remained unrelieved.
He knew this was called getting too deep into the role.
But he had never imagined that he, with a background in traditional drama, would one day find himself in such a predicament. If his school teachers found out, they would probably harshly criticize his lack of professionalism.
Facing such a situation for the first time, he was completely clueless, not knowing what to do. Seeing a psychologist didn\'t seem like the right choice, so after leaving Barcelona, Renly came to the Verdon Gorge, starting from scratch to learn, truly immersing himself in the world of free solo climbing.
Free solo climbing was a challenge to push one\'s limits but not a reckless act. So before officially embarking on real challenges, Renly spent two weeks learning, from techniques to exercises, from simulations to real battles. Even though Renly\'s physical fitness was well-suited for free solo climbing, his previous attempts at surfing, bungee jumping, diving, mountaineering, and downhill skiing had laid a solid foundation for him.
Yet even so, upon entering the world of free solo climbing, Renly keenly felt his insignificance.
He now stood about fifteen meters above the cliff, equivalent to five floors in height, taking almost twice the time of the middle-aged man to reach this point. The Frenchman was a member of the club where Renly was learning free solo climbing. Today, the entire club had five people coming here for free solo climbing.
Standing in mid-air, the raging wind kept assaulting him, human insignificance contrasted against the three-hundred-meter-high cliff and the endless horizon before him, like a speck of dust; underfoot, the swift currents splashed against the rocks in the riverbed, stirring up white foam, hitting the rocks fiercely, creating large patches of water mist, reflecting two rainbows under the sunlight, indescribably beautiful.
But Renly knew that such a magnificent scene was fraught with danger. Just the slightest looseness of his fingertips might lead to his demise.
The surge and burst of adrenaline made his palms start to sweat, feeling somewhat dry-mouthed. The thoughts about Paul, about being buried alive, about nightmares, were shattered. He left all the shadows behind and focused all his attention on his fingertips, then he exerted force with his left leg, suddenly pivoting his body back like a cartwheel, raising his right hand high, accurately and forcefully grabbing the protrusion he had spotted three minutes ago, his muscles tensing to the extreme, bursting with immense energy.
In this moment, his brain plunged into absolute blankness. He was about to challenge his limits once again.