ABSTRACT
"On the way to one of Gill's bouldering sites, I see that more than the mere physical effort of climbing is required. It takes a gift to actually locate these areas. Observing Gill in profile driving his Volkswagen bus, I imagine his fingers being, in actuality, witching sticks for locating boulders. Gill, Ament, and I arrive at an amphitheater of rock where the opera is to begin. John's dog, a red, half-Irish Setter named Gallo, scruffles up the backside of the amphitheater and races along the rim of the cliffs, then finds a pool of mud and water in which to play. Standing at the base of the Ripper Traverse, Gill breathes in gasps. He does not touch the rock, nor does he simply climb it. He, in essence, transcends the route. He is across it."
