My Nebraska crappie.While there, I had the pleasant opportunity to visit with some of the ol’ climbing community in Nebraska and a couple more on the drive back out to LA. I got to pull down on both the UNO and UNL climbing walls, boulder a little in Eldo, and see some graffiti adorned rock in Vegas. It was in Eldo that I had a conversation with Eli that got me thinking. It’s probably one you’ve all had or thought about. It has to do with the fact that climbing is greatly enhanced when you are partaking in it with friends. There’s something about sharing the experiences together. Why is that?...
After I left that night, and drove 3 more hours into the antecedents of morning, I started to dwell on this thought and realized I don’t like the climbing aspects of climbing at all. I’ve been brainwashed into enjoying this “sport” that shreds my skin, tests my patience and all the while risks my life. It’s a shame that I feel a connection with all these great people and that we haven’t removed this burden. We could do so very easily and, you know, continue to just hang out. We could visit Andrew in Vegas and actually go to the casinos or catch a show (Celine Dion). Or how about visit Chris in Nebraska more often instead of him heading west? That would make it easy to avoid this heinous activity… there are no rocks there.
Here are a couple examples that stress my point...
1. Belaying an old buddy (to remain unnamed for now; FYI not Sara) on the East Buttress of Middle Cathedral who moved a little slower than desirable. Talk about torture sitting for hours in a hanging belay, and of course with the temps favoring the chilly. I truly began to bang my head (luckily helmeted) into the rock. Why didn’t this realization come to me then?
2. Bouldering nearly every weekend in Yosemite season. My fingertips would likely be shredded by Sunday morning. But of course I continued to climb through the blood and tears into Sunday evening. Thus, this left only five days for them to attempt to heal well enough to climb the next weekend. As the season progressed, the thin skin held out less and less and my goals for projects dangled hopelessly before my eyes. I was actually happy to see the end come. Why didn’t this realization come to me then?
After I left that night, and drove 3 more hours into the antecedents of morning, I started to dwell on this thought and realized I don’t like the climbing aspects of climbing at all. I’ve been brainwashed into enjoying this “sport” that shreds my skin, tests my patience and all the while risks my life. It’s a shame that I feel a connection with all these great people and that we haven’t removed this burden. We could do so very easily and, you know, continue to just hang out. We could visit Andrew in Vegas and actually go to the casinos or catch a show (Celine Dion). Or how about visit Chris in Nebraska more often instead of him heading west? That would make it easy to avoid this heinous activity… there are no rocks there.
Here are a couple examples that stress my point...
1. Belaying an old buddy (to remain unnamed for now; FYI not Sara) on the East Buttress of Middle Cathedral who moved a little slower than desirable. Talk about torture sitting for hours in a hanging belay, and of course with the temps favoring the chilly. I truly began to bang my head (luckily helmeted) into the rock. Why didn’t this realization come to me then?
2. Bouldering nearly every weekend in Yosemite season. My fingertips would likely be shredded by Sunday morning. But of course I continued to climb through the blood and tears into Sunday evening. Thus, this left only five days for them to attempt to heal well enough to climb the next weekend. As the season progressed, the thin skin held out less and less and my goals for projects dangled hopelessly before my eyes. I was actually happy to see the end come. Why didn’t this realization come to me then?
Okay, I’m only kidding. Partly. There must be aspects of climbing that annoy the crap out of you. I’d be interested in hearing some of the things you HATE about climbing. You know, the kind that you suffer through and then laugh about (or not) at the campfire later.
Flapper. (andrewchasteen.com)
I'm not gonna lie. There's times when I question my sanity too. Why would you abuse yourself and put up with being belay b&^%h to your friends? But can't something similar be said about all sports (or anything) you commit alot of time to? There's gonna be some negative effects to most things, but I think there's definately some reward and exhilaration from achieveing your goals in climbing. Don't get me wrong, with something as social as climbing, a HUGE part of it is the friends I make in the process. But I personally feel there's a seperate, different joy to be had from improving yourself in some way. I guess that's just my 2 cents.
ReplyDeleteFirst some of the cons: Long belays (thank god for the Gri Gri), the white lung, cold fingers, cuts, etc.
ReplyDeleteThe friendships are so strong because of the shared (sometimes crappy) experiences. That's why fraternities, the military, etc. make the groups suffer, work, play together. It brings you closer.
For me, the friendships/ shared experiences are more important than the actual climbing, but the climbing/ movement/ strength/ outdoors of course has it's own value.
The biggest reason I climb is to be among a class of people that I admire. But it is also a sport that lends itself well to reflection; there have been many times when I've been able to work through an issue while belaying another (or even while climbing). And yet, no other sport has demanded so much of my pants-loading focus. It's the juxtaposition of these seeming disparate purposes that appeals so much to me.
ReplyDeleteBut even belaying ... man, when I'm on the other end of a bold lead, or even just watching, I can't help but feel a pride in knowing someone that reached down and -- not smiled, not laughed, not dominated -- just *was* in the face of fear.
Awwww... I wuv you guys.
ReplyDeleteJon, that is an interesting point about *being there* in those moments when someone is engulfed in fear (or an adrenaline-fueled concentration). It's an emotionally exposed state, and sharing it with someone is opening a door to within yourself.