A Different Breed

I’m looking at a sea of blank faces…I didn’t even notice until my presentation was over.  It’s my final project for GIS (Geographic Information System) class, and I’m psyched.  I used the GIS software ArcMap to create an interactive bouldering guide for Blowing Rock boulders, one of my favorite boulderfields in the Boone area.  It’s basically a digital map of the trail and boulders that changes based on your preferences, with checkboxes indicating the grade, classic rating, highball status, type of movement, types of holds, ect.  So, if you wanted a quick fix of classic, gymnastic moderates, you could check the appropriate boxes and have a map highlighting all of the 3+ star problems rated V6 and down that have dynamic movement.  All you’d have to do is print out the personalized map and guide and take it with you.  I figured it could be used by road trippers or other non-locals who only have an afternoon to climb and don’t know anyone (don’t worry locals, I have no intentions of publishing it on the web, not while access issues are so sensitive in the Boone area).  It was really just a fun way to incorporate climbing into my final project (and the perfect excuse to go bouldering during “research” designated class time).

Everyone else’s projects were about finding restaurants, human population patterns, hurricane path trends, and glacial melting.  I thought my presentation would be a fun change of pace from all their “important” issues (heaven forbid we don’t know where the nearest McDonald’s is).  After some quick climbing terminology explanations, I excitedly started showing maps leading to scary highballs, difficult, beautiful overhangs, sloper problems, crimpfests, and dynos (the guide includes some pretty sweet pictures).

I’m greeted by a cumulative blank stare, except for a contemptuous “Now how are you going to change the world with that?” look from the girl who mapped out bird migration patterns.  There are two smiles though.  One’s from Dr. Badureck, because he thinks all maps are sweet and knows a few climbers.  I’m also getting a broad grin from Jon in the back of the room, a friend and fellow climber.  Still smiling, he mouths ”nice” and gives me a thumbs up.  It’s like we’re together on an inside joke.

I learn more and more that it’s almost impossible to explain climbing.  I get asked “what’s the point?” by family and friends alike.  Apparently climbing a rock doesn’t have as much meaning as getting so wasted at the game you don’t remember anything about it.  I’m pretty sure my parents think it’s just a phase, that I’ll grow out of it eventually.  Climbing has become somewhat of a trendy thing lately, but it’s more than that to me.  How so?  I have no idea.  But I do know that climbing has enriched my life in ways that I’ve never known before.  The beautiful and amazing places it takes you, both internally and externally, the community of people who understand what it means to have a passion, the feeling of being alive, are all parts of the greater experience that makes the climbing lifestyle such an amazing thing.

But talking about it does nothing.  You have to experience something in order to internalize it, it’s the only way to really understand.  I’m not so arrogant as to say this only applies to climbers.  Anyone pursuing their passion, whether it’s music, biking, backpacking, running, traveling, surfing, snowboarding, any passion at all besides partying and making money, understands these things.

Unfortunately, many people never discover their greatest passions and talents.  Whatever time isn’t spent in the pursuit of financial success is spent in front of the t.v. or at the bar (or anywhere as long as there’s alcohol and a potential good lay).  It’s my senior year, and now when I leave the mountains to visit high school friends at their schools, something’s different.  We go out to the bar, and amongst the frat boys, sorostitutes, chugging contests, and body shots, I feel completely out of place.  Don’t get me wrong, I love a good time at the bar or a house party, but it gets stale after a while.  Talking to people I haven’t seen in over 4 years, I can’t help but notice that some of them haven’t changed at all since high school, except for some flab to make up for the lack of exercise.  I could swear that, as soon as the standard “how are you” “what are you doing” “what’s your major” “holy shit they got married???” questions are out of the way, it becomes the same exact conversation that it was back then after a varsity football game.  “Dude we got so wasted last weekend!”

Maybe it’s just me.  I’ve always been the quiet type, but it’s not really because I’m shy.  I suck at small talk.  I want to hear about your lifestyle.  I want to know you.  What are your passions?  What do you do on a beautiful day?  Sometimes people look like a deer in headlights when I ask them this, almost as if to say “Shit…I don’t know what I do…”  I get a lot of “Nothing really”s and “Sleep in”s.  Some are actually passionate about what they’re studying, and are psyched to explain it to me.  These people are surprisingly rare, at least in my experience.  Many of the others are just working towards that ol’ American dream.  Make lots of money, find a  spouse, settle down, have some kids, retire comfortably…not to be an asshole, but I lose interest.  Sooo, you’re gonna be making this much huh?  Wow…that’s awesome.  Well, good luck with that, nice to meet you.

It doesn’t take long for me to flee back to the high country, away from the “real world”.  What happened?  Why can’t I settle down?  Where did I get such a low tolerance for monotony?  All things do change eventually, but it wasn’t just the passage of time that filled me with wanderlust.  It was the passion that took over, the climbing.

It’s suddle.  It only takes one experience to get hooked, but the “change” comes more slowly.  Some of you know what I mean.  It all starts when you buy your own gear, and you feel like you’ve been introduced to a whole new world, one you never knew existed.  You start looking forward to the end of class or the end of the week with more and more enthusiasm.  Everything becomes a hold.  You start crimping on the edge of your desk, the doorframe, the stone walls of a building.  You might even carry the gallon of milk with your pinky, or all your grocery bags with one finger, unfocused eyes seeing blue and grey pockets.  Watching a climbing video, or even looking at a cliff or a boulder, makes your hands start to sweat.  Priorities start to shift, and you wonder what it would be like to just wait tables and climb indefinitely.  Once you start traveling for it, climbing has become a major part of who you are.  Looking back, you realize how different your lifestyle was just a few seasons ago.  You’re still the same person, yet of a slightly different breed.  Even the party scene changes a little.  Now there are small groups of people apparently playing animated games of sharades, until you hear “…and then you make this huge reach up and over to a crimp, backstep your left foot next to your left hand, match, and then dyno to this slopey rail…”  If you’re lucky this conversation will lead to a night bouldering session, maybe til’ the sun comes up.  Then you find a place where you can see the mountains and have one more beer as you watch the sky catch on fire.  I heard Boone Speed say in an interview that “…climbing is just an excuse to go to cool places”.  Though the night session might fade into the background of your memory, the way the mountains glow under that orange sky will stand out in your mind forever.  These are the shared experiences that define who your true friends are, and the conversation may consist of nothing more than raising your beer in a toast.  For you the party, which was the highlight of the night for some, was only a precursor, a tasty appetizer.

I’ll say it again…I do love to party…on rest days.  For the most part, though, I’d rather be climbing.  Say what you want, judge if you must, but I’m taking it easy tonight.  Conditions are gonna be perfect tomorrow.  Care to join us?