Alpinjunkies: August 2010

Nicht von mir, sondern Andrew Bisharat - und sehr lesenswert das Ganze...

Milestones

Cross Posted From Rock & Ice by Andrew Bisharat

Life is an uphill road, punctuated by many happy milestones—moments that make the trip seem worth taking. There are the inevitable, profuse potholes, too—and the deeper ones may make you consider abandoning the ride all together. But if everything were easy, it wouldn’t be “fun”—advice I routinely impart to wobbling sport climbers, cussing themselves and dangling at the ends of their ropes, their sinewy little limbs punching the air in comical frustration. If you’re not willing to fail, you’ll never succeed, especially in climbing. If you don’t “suck,” you’re not doing it right.

Climbing is the greatest sport on earth because this vertical journey holds uncanny parallels to the scope and depth of life itself. Though I will say that a climber’s life can be replete with even greater, more powerful affirmations and traumas. Therefore, climbing must be taken as seriously as life—which is best done when taken not seriously at all.

Here are some watershed experiences that you can expect to encounter upon tying in for the long haul.

First time you call yourself a “real climber.” Many people wonder when they can first call themselves a “real climber.” We live in a material society, where we’ve decided that the things we own say the most about who we are. If you own a harness, belay device and rock shoes, then you’re a climber. Some reports say that there are nearly nine million of us in America alone, though I have trouble believing that number exists, like the bouldering grade of V16. Like deciding your own sexuality, there’s no good formula to this strangely sudden transformation of self-identity. When you decide to call yourself a climber, I suppose you are one.

First time you climb El Cap. This is a right of passage in American climbing, and everyone should do it. The experience of first climbing El Cap, however, is most definitely not about the climbing itself. There is sadly very little to be gained from wallowing in aiders and hauling 80-pound bags up steep, hot granite flanks. Whereas El Cap once represented an unknown frontier at the brink of human perceptions of possibility, it is now used by post-college grads as a means for “finding yourself,” the climber’s version of backpacking solo through Europe, or kicking your father’s ass for the first time. Again, everyone should do these things.

First lead fall. This is a much bigger deal for some than it is for others. Some will never get past the terror of dropping a few feet through the air, and we call these people top-ropers—essentially second-class citizens, the understudies of the climbing world. Just as you can’t love something unless you first hate it, you can’t climb unless you learn to fall.

First 5.11, 5.12, 5.13, 5.14. Reaching a new number grade is a milestone akin to turning a new significant age—18, 21, 30, 50 etc. The day comes that you send the route, and you technically feel no different than you did the day before—yet somehow, you are. How you choose to let this new “persona” affect you—whether privately, with your own internal reconciliation of self-importance; or externally, making others deal with your ego—is what matters most and will ultimately play a small but significant role in determining how far you go up the number scale and how many climbing partners (friends) you manage to keep through your life.

First time you get benighted. Among my favorites, spending an unplanned night on a ledge somewhere hopelessly remote is an amazing experience of handling the unexpected. Your anxieties well up like a sudden fever, but then you must find a way to let them go. It’s in this space that nature looks its most beautiful.

First time you have an opinion about style and ethics. This important formative moment in a climber’s life is when something clicks about the “rules” and definitions that we’ve created, and continue to debate, about our sport. Perhaps it’s something you’ve read, or you become a chameleon to the opinions of the climbers surrounding you. But at some point, something will click, and you’ll “get it.” This is a good thing.

Realizing those opinions will inevitably fall short of reality. Sadly, many climbers never reach this stage, and instead become consumed by their own clichéd zealotry. Climbing’s genealogy of style and ethics is very important to understand—but this sport should never turn into something that can be packaged up neatly. Climbing is a personal journey; you must shed all other conceptions about what it is and ought to be, and discover climbing for yourself—the goal being that doing so will allow you to learn something about yourself. This is what John Gill did when he “invented” bouldering during an era defined by big-wall exploration. However, for you and me, it doesn’t need to be that extraordinary. What are your own tastes? What do you find motivating? How will you choose to summon your biggest weaknesses to the surface in order to conquer them? It’s in the space of this creativity that climbing becomes a private, intimate art form. Do you know what you like? Many people can’t even answer that!

First time you lose a friend. This will happen. If you’re lucky, it won’t be your fault … though many good, competent climbers have made small, dumb errors that have ended in enormous tragedy. The question of whether it’s worth it comes up. This question can only be answered by the individual. However, as painful as it can be, I find reassurance in knowing that life is actually a noun and not just a collection of fluffy adjectives. Life has no opportunity to be anything other than what it is unless you make it your opportunity to be alive. Of course it’s worth it—this is all we have.

First time you get injured. You learn a lot when you’re unable to climb. This is an important experience that just plain sucks. But you don’t have to be moving to make progress. Everyone should learn to be still.

First time you travel somewhere far to go climbing. Anyone who climbs should make traveling a number-one priority. When you travel to climb you immediately go from tourist to crusader. You have purpose on a climbing trip. To travel for climbing is to lead a life fully lived. You realize this on your first trip somewhere new, and will carry that with you on your hundredth.

First time you don’t need to call yourself a climber; you just are one. Eventually, climbing just becomes something you do. You won’t be worried about new goals or reaching next grades or traveling to the next hot spot. It transforms into something that fulfills a specific need to relax and have fun. You do it, because it’s what you do. Climbing is just you, going up.