Twas the Night Before Christmas - Aiguille Edition

By Aubrey Wingo

Twas the night before Christmas, when all through Aiguille
Not a person was climbing, the gym was closed, you see?
The holds were all bolted on the walls with care,
In hopes that strong climbers soon would be there.

The setters were home all snug in their beds,
While visions of slopers danced in their heads.
Some members were resting, but I stayed behind,
For my project was calling, that send was mine.

When from the back of the gym there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from to my feet, and to see what was the matter.
Away to the Boulder Cave, I flew like a hawk,
But I was scared like a sissy, hugging my chalk.

The florescent lights flickered on the blue carpet floor,
I thought I was alone, I had locked the door.
When, what to my terrified eyes should appear,
Climbing shoes and a harness, it was someone’s gear.

Evolvs Shamans and Sanuks, who would own this?
I knew in a moment, it had to be Chris!
A fine chiseled fellow, the strongest of gents,
And any good climber could name his first ascents.

“First Round, First Minute, Mandala, Esperanza,
Dreamcatcher, Jumbo Love and Pachamama!”
Throwing on his shoes in no time at all,
Then dashed away, dashed away up the wall!

Why, I wondered, from Catalunya he came?
Compared to his home, Aiguille must be lame.
But more that I watch him climb higher and higher,
I hoped Aiguille left a lot to admire.

And then, in an instant, he had reached the top,
Of the hardest lead route, free soloed, afraid he would drop!
But of course it was Sharma, it wasn’t a problem,
Downclimbed the same way, nothing could stop him!

He was covered in chalk, from his head to his toe,
And donned in all Prana, surely you had know.
He walked to the Wave, to see his selection,
I hope Mark set hard! Hoped we passed the inspection!

His eyes-how they twinkled! His chest how hairy!
His skin hard like diamonds, his tips red like a cherry!
His welcoming smile was gazing at boulders,
But yet in Florida, I’m sure he wished it was colder.

He clutched on the start hold, and in one great thrust,
He dynoed to a crimp, I afraid it would turn to dust!
Powerful was his grip, from gaston to pinch,
He sent every problem with not even a flinch.

He was solid as a rock, a right jolly ole guy!
I laughed when I saw him, made me feel like a small fry.
A wink of his eye and lifting his thumb,
Soon gave me to know I was welcome.

He continued to climb, everything seemed like V0,
But I watched him in awe, he was my new hero!
He pack up his things when done with his climb.
He walked out the door having had a good time!

Daila picked him and off they disappeared
No one would believe me that Sharma was here.
But I heard him exclaim, as he drove out of sight
Merry Christmas to Aiguille, and to all a good night!