This evening after work we went climbing at Cattlestop. It’s one of the easiest crags to get to on the Port hills in terms of access from car to rock. There are options closer to town, but nothing with a view like the one you see above. And there are plenty of routes here too. Something for everyone.
The group next to us was a non-climbing dad belaying his five year old son, with a friend setting up new routes and answering safety questions for them.
That’s selfless parenting, coming out to the crag when you’re not climbing. Or maybe not. Hanging out in the hills with a beautiful view is half the fun for me.
There’s something about elevation that makes everything better. If I’m feeling a little sad, but not so much that I can’t face leaving the house, I climb a hill. I know that when I reach the top, whatever’s bothering me will feel small and faraway. Unimportant. Everything will look better from the summit.
Christchurch does. At ground level it can be grotty sometimes. Dusty and messy and loud and potholed, from the earthquake damage and reconstruction. Awkward. All that fades away when viewed from above.
You just see a city by the sea and the hills, flanked by mountains. And the confusing web of one-way streets and indistinguishable suburbs are suddenly easy to make sense of.
Everything is clearer from up high.