Threre use to be the littlest flake in the back of the first roof that you could pull on to clip the bolt on the lip. I yarded too hard and it exploded, then started to yell falling. In mid air I clipped the bolt and hung on it. On a different time a wasp landed on my chest and I freaked out and fell just before that same bolt. I stopped inches from the ground. Milton Beasley saved my life (well ancles) yet again. I finally got the red point.