Deep down here by the dark water lived old Cammum, a small slimy creature. I don't know where he came from, nor who or what he was. He was Cammum - as dark as darkness, except for two big round red eyes in his thin face. He had a little rack, and he climbed about quite quietly on the crag; for crag it was, wide and tall and deadly overhanging. He climbed it with large feet dangling in the air, but never a tick mark did he make. Not he. He was looking out of his red demon-like eyes for old trad climbers, which he grabbed with his strong fingers as quick as thinking. He liked sporties too. Boulderer he thought good, when he could get it; but he took care they never found him out. He just throttled them from behind, if they ever came down alone anywhere along the belay ledges, while he was prowling about. They very seldom did, for they had a feeling that something unpleasant was lurking down there, down at the very roots of the cliff. They had come on the crag when they were bolting long ago, and had found they could rappell no further, so there their routes ended in that direction, and there was no reason to climb that way -- unless they dropped gear from the higher crags. Sometimes trad climbers would lose things from high up and come down here searching for them, and neither climber nor gear would return.
|Photo Location:||North_America: United_States: California: Los_Angeles_County: Echo_Cliffs: Grotto__The_|