The Boulder Problem – Part 1: Spotter

"Try the left foot," said Rafi.

"My left foot hates me."

"Your left foot is shy. Be kind to it."

Hugo laughed, shook out his arms and chalked up again. The boulder in front of him was a smooth grey sandstone block the size of a delivery van, tucked among silver birch and pine in the sandy Fontainebleau forest. Sunlight dappled the crash pads. A group of friends sat laughing a few boulders over. Hugo was twenty-nine, a software developer from Paris on his third-ever climbing weekend, and he had been falling off this same problem for forty minutes.

Rafi, thirty-three, a physiotherapist and keen climber, stood beneath him with his hands up and a look of patient amusement. He was lean, sun-browned and dry-humoured, with chalk on his forearms and a yellow bandana on his head. "Whenever you fall, I'm here," he said. "I'm very good at being underneath you."

Hugo missed his hold and slid, arms flailing, into the waiting circle of Rafi's hands. They steadied each other. Rafi's palm was warm in the small of his back.

"You're all right," said Rafi. "I've got you."

"I think I fell on purpose."

"That would be a very silly way to climb." But Rafi didn't let go straight away.

They spent the day moving from boulder to boulder, Rafi showing him the footwork, the balance, the breath. By afternoon Hugo reached the top of an easy problem, whooping from the summit with arms raised. The valley gleamed green below. Rafi's grin was blinding.

At dusk, the group wandered back to the campsite for a barbecue. Hugo and Rafi lingered at the last boulder, sitting on the crash pad with water bottles.

"Hugo," said Rafi, "I would like to ask you out. On a proper date. Where nobody falls off anything."

"I'd love that. Can I also fall off things?"

"Only if I'm underneath."

Continue the story: Part 2 – Crash Pad.

Continue the story: Part 2 – Crash Pad.