A Van, 2 Cats, and a Dream (Part 1)

It’s time. After years of cloud talk about someday living on the road, the van was purchased, outfitted, and is finally ready for its first major trip. In just a few weeks, we’ll begin to test the road warrior lifestyle with two months of climbing and resting, living with minimal space, minimal belongings, and minimal personal cleanliness. Natalie, Leonard, Gus, and I will begin our trip by driving the vehicle we call “El Vanny Blanco” to Spearfish, SD, but everything after that is up in the air.

Two of my van-mates, Natalie and Gus. Gus' brother Leonard is taking the picture. Good eye, Leonard!

Our trip is only for two months, but it seems like a test of something bigger. While most people are still chasing the American dream of earning lots of money and maintaining a traditional high standard of living, more and more people our age are searching for a simpler lifestyle. Whether it’s talk of tiny homes or just wanting to get away from it all, I get the impression that our high levels of ownership and stimulation have finally started to weigh on us.

Natalie enjoying a sunny nap in El Vanny Blanco

When pondering a simpler life I’m reminded of our friend Sid, who for much of the year lives in a truck with a topper on a small plot of land in Texas. He wakes up to a beautiful view everyday, eats delicious home-cooked food, climbs, doesn’t work very much, and seems about as happy as can be. While he’s still young, he’s made the decision to live every day his own way – not tied to belongings and the 9-to-5 job needed to hold onto those belongings.

Hanging at Camp Sid

On days spent in my office at work, there’s a part of me that wants Sid’s life too. It’s romantic. It’s tempting.

Maybe I need to stick to my guns and just keep working the wonderful job that I have until I can retire. Maybe Natalie and I need to run for the hills and live our van dream for as long we can. Or maybe it’s just time for us to downsize our lives a little more permanently. Whatever we choose to do when August comes along and our trip is over,  I think that these two months are a first step in answering the question: “Just how ‘Sid’ do we want to be?”

Better Late Than Never. Hueco Tanks Spring 2015

Throughout my life, I’ve always shown up late to the party. I obtained my first slap bracelet only after they were banned by my grade school. I played my Atari until the rest of the 7th graders had moved on to Sega Genesis – only then did I hop on board with Nintendo. I decided Nirvana was the greatest band ever about 4 years after Kurt Cobain died. And as people are flocking to Instagram, Twitter, and other social media, I have finally decided that Facebook can be a useful tool.

It all seems to be happening again. I took my first trip to Hueco Tanks State Park a year ago for my 2014 spring break. It’s was fantastic. I get it now. Beautiful scenery, great weather, minimal hiking, and problems so perfect that they should only exist in… well, Nirvana. Perhaps I should have seen this next part coming. While there were a good number of climbers in the park in spring 2014, this spring we saw very few. There were only around 5 cars in the main parking lot of North Mountain each day we were there. Now don’t get me wrong – I enjoyed the quiet. Not running into climbers all day was great, and created a nice relaxed vibe in the park. But where is everybody?

My wife (find her on instagram @natalieclimbs) enjoying the hell out of Ghetto Simulator (V2)

In the interest of full disclosure, my spring break (I teach, so I still have those) is usually toward the end of the climbing season in Hueco. But a lot of other climbers must be on break as well, right? So where did all of the boulderers go? I think some went to Bishop, but from what I hear, Joe’s Valley is the new hip bouldering destination. Joe's has beautifully featured sandstone boulders, is easy on the skin, boasts perfect landings, and requires even less hiking... at least that's what I’m told. I’m behind the times again.

On Bush League (V8), wondering how I had never heard of this amazing problem before. Photo by Natalie Jaime.

Atari and Nintendo are still fun to break out sometimes, Nevermind is still a fantastic album, Facebook still has something like a billion users, and Hueco is still revered amongst climbers. These things are still great, just not booming with excitement the way they once were. Despite the dwindling hype, Hueco Tanks is the best place I’ve ever bouldered. I will continue to shout this from the boulder-tops even if the more up-to-speed climbers chuckle at my dated declaration.

Joe’s Valley – I’ll see you in 2020.

Dealing With Injuries (and what got me climbing again)

Anyone that climbs seriously will get a finger, hand, or elbow injury at some point. Many climbers, myself included, are hesitant to bring injuries to a doctor. I imagine the interaction going like this:

Me: “I think I hurt a tendon in my finger.”

Doctor: “How did you do it?”

Me: “Rock climbing.”

Doctor: “Can you tell me more?”

Me: “Well, often when climbing I’ll support as much weight on my fingers and hands as possible. I load my hands and fingers until they fail. On a really good day, I do this 10, 20, maybe 30 times.”

Doctor: “Ok... that sounds too hard for your body. You should stop climbing for a while.”

Me: “Not an option.”

Doctor: “Why are you here again?”

I’m not hopeful that many climbers and doctors would reach an agreement here. So I imagine that most climbers rush to the internet the way I did when I had my first tendon injury (A2 pulley). I googled how to heal tendons faster, foods to strengthen tendons, exercises to strengthen tendons, and even how to climb through finger injuries. But most websites are run by people that aren’t climbers, and information from experts that also understand our sport is really hard to find. I certainly don’t claim to be an expert. But I can tell you what I learned about the reality of climbing injuries.

Forget your old self and remember your… old self

After several weeks of rest, using the finger lightly actually aids healing, so I didn’t want to completely stop climbing. But it is incredibly difficult to take it easy on your finger when you have ingrained in your brain that 5.10 is easy. 5.10 is not easy on your body. Go down 3-4 number grades from your old limit and plan on climbing at that level for months. Feel free to tell everybody that will listen about your injury if it helps you feel better as you’re watching everyone around you pull hard. I know that climb looks really great, and it used to be doable for you. Don’t get sucked in.

More than anything, you need to remember that climbing isn’t always about today. Remind yourself that you want to be able to climb hard next season as well as when you’re old. If the sport is important enough for you to be reading this, then it’s too important to risk a more permanent injury just because you were impatient. The rock will still be there in a few months.

There are some things that help a bit

Make sure you stay hydrated.  And taping well can really help -- if nothing else, it keeps you cognisant of the fact that you need to take it easy.  Ice in short spurts is great for reducing pain/swelling too. I’ll leave this for the experts to argue, but I started to feel like normal icing reduced blood flow and thus slowed down healing. I read a bit on Dave McCloud’s blog about this. He recommends using cool water for extended periods of time to increase blood flow to your injury and accelerate healing (thanks to Brad for recommending it). This technique definitely aided in increasing blood flow to my hand, but after a while I felt too much swelling. I got scared of chronic inflammation (something else I read about during my incessant googling) and backed off.

So you should know that nothing is going to heal you like magic. Time, rest, very light climbing, and swallowing a lot of pride seems to be the best prescription.

Bouldering was good for me?

I can’t believe that I’m writing this, but after the initial healing was finished, bouldering was really good for my finger injury. Here’s why:

1. The finger felt its worst when I was fatigued. I could do 8 moves without feeling much pain, but 8 bolts was a different story. This could be for several reasons, but I think it was because when my muscles fatigued, my tendons felt more stress.

2. You can see all of the holds from the ground. I could easily suss out each move and see if the problem would stress my injury before I got started. It’s easy to spot and avoid tweaky boulder problems.

3. I am more comfortable letting go of a boulder. Despite the fact that I do it a lot, but I don’t really enjoy falling on a lead climb outside. So if I felt a little tweak when I was climbing on rope, I would try to make my next clip (risking more injury) instead of just letting go. On a boulder, I was off the rock and on my pads the moment I felt the slightest pain.

It’s not over when it’s healed

So your injury feels better -- great! This is where the physical problem ends and the mental problem begins. 6 months after my injury, I really needed a psychologist more than a medical doctor. I was scared that every crimp was going to be my next injury. I didn’t know my limits, and I didn’t trust my hands. It became frustrating to continually not be able to work the same climbs as my partners. I mistook normal fatigue for a tweak and would quit for the day. I felt defeated by my body, and this could have easily led to my quitting climbing. But then I discovered...

What absolutely helped the most

Hangboarding! For me, hangboarding was the key that eventually turned everything around. About 8 months after the initial injury, I read about this training technique and started a routine. Using a simple pulley system (picture), you can remove as much of your body weight as you’d like when hanging. I started by removing nearly a third of my body weight and doing a beginner hangboard routine. If it went well, I would add 5 pounds a week. This system has many major benefits:

1. It builds strength. I got my old fingers back, but I also feel like the exercise is preventative in nature. With all of the hanging I’ve done, I feel less likely to over-stress and injure another tendon.

2. It builds confidence. I learned what my body could do all over again, and I lost the feeling of impending tendon doom that I had so much trouble with.

3. It is controlled. Adding 5 pounds a week to a successful hangboard routine and making no other changes made me feel completely at ease. It made me feel like a scientist. In hindsight, I should have worn a lab coat.

More than anything, hangboarding made me excited about climbing again. Stoke level is incredibly important in a sport that can be so mentally and physically painful. Ironically, I credit one of the most mind numbing climbing exercises for getting my drive back.

 

My Timeline

I’m not sure if there is a “typical” timeline for these injuries, but if it helps you prepare, here is how my recovery went.

Day 1: Injured trying too hard on a mono at the gym. Dumb.

3 weeks AI (After Injury): Re-tweaked trying to come back too soon.

2 months AI: Started feeling finger pain in other hand because of overcorrection. Decided to avoid crimps and work slopers for a while

2 months and 2 days AI: Injured wrist trying too hard on slopers.

2 months and 2 days through 8 months AI: Lots of climbing depression. Nothing too hard. Many rest days and rest weeks. Gradual improvement, but no breakthrough. Mostly bouldering.

8 months AI: Hangboarding routine #1!

10 months AI: Have increased weight by 30-50 pounds depending on hold type. Feeling much more confident. Starting to send problems near my BI (Before Injury) grade.

14 months after the initial injury, the tape finally came off. I’m even a little stronger than before.

Now about that endurance...

What Is Climbing? The non-climbers guide

There isn’t a sport where there’s a greater separation between perception and reality than rock climbing. I can’t tell you how many times my colleagues at work have asked me if I’ve hiked to the top of any mountains lately. Or how many times I’ve explained that, “Yes, I do use a rope… except when bouldering… but then you don’t go very high… mostly…” Ok, it’s a hard sport to explain.

None of the misconception surrounding climbing is really a problem, but climbing has gained a lot of cultural attention lately. We see people rock climbing in advertisements, in National Geographic, and even in The New York Times, but most of us don’t know much about the sport. Let’s fix that. This is the non-climber’s guide to rock climbing.

There are many types of rock climbing. For this article, I’ll focus on the main ones:

You can see from the beautiful diagram above that rock climbing can first be divided into aid climbing and free climbing. A low percentage of climbers aid climb these days, but this is a necessary distinction to clarify the biggest climbing misconception.

Perception Fix #1: Free climbing does not mean rope-free climbing.

Rope-less rock climbing is called “free soloing”. The consequence of falling during a free solo is typically death. Free soloing is in the news a lot, it seems, but not many rock climbers do it.

So what is free climbing then? Let’s define it:

Aid climbing is when you get to the top by any means necessary. Pull on the rope, step on a nylon sling that you attached to the wall, place a metal hook on the wall and have a nice rest on it. Just get to the top. Some walls are so bare that they have only been aid climbed.

Free climbing is when you just use only your body and the rock to get to the top. Sure you have a rope to protect you if you fall, but the goal is to not use it on your way up.

**Bonus definition!! A send of a climb is when you free climb to the top without ever utilizing your rope. The rope provides safety and allows you to lower back down, but you can only send a climb if you never fall and never rest on the rope on the way up. A send is the main goal of most climbers these days. We often try the same climb dozens of times before sending it.

Perception Fix #2: Rock climbing is not hiking.

Mountaineering is divided into 5 classes. Class 1 is hiking, class 2 is hiking that might require occasional hand usage, and so on. Class 5 mountaineering is rock climbing. It’s going up on terrain that can’t reasonably be ascended without ropes and gear.

Mountaineers will generally avoid rock climbing when possible because it only slows down their quest to get to the mountaintop. But some people enjoyed the challenge of rock climbing, and (thank goodness) it branched off into a sport of its own. For a while, aid climbing was the main focus of rock climbers – just get to the top of that sheer wall using anything you can. But there was a shift of focus in the sport several decades ago, and now almost everyone who calls him/herself a rock climber is out there free climbing. Let’s look at the three main areas of free climbing:

Traditional Climbing. Commonly called trad climbing, we bring a rope and place little pieces of gear (that we carry up with us) into the rock as protection so that we don’t die if we fall. These pieces of gear can be very small “nuts” that fit well into cracks in the rock, simple mechanical devices called “cams” that fit in cracks and holes of many sizes, nylon slings that can be attached to certain features in the rock, and all kinds of other little gadgets. We take the gear with us when we leave. Here’s an example of someone trad climbing. 

Sport Climbing. Instead of placing little pieces of gear in cracks and features, sport climbers drill little bolts into the wall to use as protection. The fact that the climb has built-in protection takes the focus away from the “where will I find a good place to put gear” aspect of trad climbing, and allows us to focus our efforts on moving our way to the top. The bolts stay in the rock and are re-used by other climbers that want to do the same route. Here’s someone sport climbing. 

Bouldering. Bouldering is doing climbing moves on lower terrain so no ropes are necessary. We often finish boulder problems by “topping-out” or getting on top of the boulder and walking/climbing down wherever it’s easiest and safest. We bring crash pads to protect our feet, ankles, etc when we fall.  Here’s someone bouldering. 

Notice that in the first two videos, the climbers are using ropes. Someone has to be attached to the other end of the rope to keep the climber from hitting the ground if they fall. That person is called the belayer. It’s always nice to climb with people who you trust and feel comfortable belaying you. And we usually go bouldering with friends too! When you’re on a boulder, it’s nice to have people making sure the pads are beneath you and ensuring that you fall safely on those pads. These people helping you out are called spotters. We can really minimize our risks with a little help from our friends. Which brings us to:

Perception Fix #3: Climbing is not as dangerous as you think.

We’re not all adrenaline junkies with a death wish. I used to do a lot of road biking and can say that cycling is a much more dangerous sport. I’ve broken bones or ended up in the hospital doing almost every sport I’ve tried except for climbing. The gear is reliable and the risks are typically well calculated. Of course there are tragedies, but these are certainly exceptions (and almost always a result of human error). Tendon and muscle issues aside, it’s a fairly safe sport.

But climbing can still be scary. One major fear factor comes from how you use your rope. This brings us to top-roping vs lead climbing:

Top-roping is free climbing with a rope that is pre-hung from the top of the climb. This way, the rope connected to the climber is always taut. If a top-roping climber falls, they don’t go anywhere. There is no risk here, so climbers typically start out top-roping. But how does the rope get up there in the first place? That often requires lead climbing.

Lead climbing means bringing the rope up with you as you go. When lead climbing, if you come off of the rock you will fall some distance before the rope catches you. This is the preferred way to climb for more experienced climbers, and most climbers would argue that you don’t really “send” a climb unless you do it while lead climbing.

Here are some beautiful pictures to demonstrate the difference.

Perception Fix #4: We fall a lot.

People are often surprised that we take a lot of falls when climbing. It’s just part of the sport if you’re pushing yourself to climb very hard. Climbing hard is full of failure, and it can take weeks, months, or years of trying a particular climb before sending it. If you’re trying hard enough, then every time you don’t send, you fall.

Perception Fix #5: Height doesn’t really matter.

A question I get a lot is “how high do you go?” The honest answer is “sometimes climbers go 3,000 feet to the top of a big wall, sometimes 5 feet up a boulder”. Boulder problems stay pretty low. Most sport climbs go up 50-100 feet and then you come down, which is called a “single pitch” sport climb. Trad climbs often involve multiple rope lengths which are called “multi-pitch climbs”. When trad climbing, the difficulty can come from the moves being physically hard or the logistics being mentally tough. But for rock climbers, it’s not really about height so much as it is about doing a difficult or fun climb.

Perception Fix #6: Climbing isn’t pointless.

Well, maybe it is if you want to get all philosophical. But climbing is no less noble or profound than shooting a ball into a hoop, kicking a ball into a goal, driving in big circles, or jumping over the highest stick possible. And it’s arguably more useful than watching television, playing video games, or debating who was best dressed at the Grammys. It’s a sport like any other… but at the same time unlike any other for many beautiful reasons (as I discuss here).

So next time you find yourself wanting to make conversation with a climber, maybe ask “Do you typically do trad, sport, or bouldering?” Or impress them even more and ask “Did you have any good sends this season?” 

Why I Climb

When struggling with a project or just having a bad day, we often ask ourselves why we do it. Why do I even climb?  It’s kind of a silly sport -- you go up just to come right back down all while there’s usually a much easier way to the top. When bouldering we get just a few feet off the ground, yet we try so hard that we bleed. And some days climbing can make us feel miserable -- most of us have even declared that we've quit the sport, only to get back on the rock the next day. On both good and bad days, it's important to remind ourselves why we do it. So why do I climb? Here are my reasons.

T-Bone Shuffle (V4) in Hueco Tanks. Picture by Patrick Kua

Because it’s physical

Of course moving up small holds on rock is a very physical activity, but the beauty of climbing is that it’s not just one type of physical. It involves both strength and finesse.

Climbing isn’t weightlifting or even a pull up competition. While finger and hand strength plays a huge role, so do delicate movements and balance. The difference between sending your project and falling for the 20th time can be as simple as turning your hip an extra inch closer to the rock or using a foothold that’s a centimeter to the left of the one you used so many times before. It may be about finding and focusing on just the right muscle much like someone doing a pilates exercise. It may be about getting just a bit more weight over your right foot before making that move. Or it may be about forgetting all about the perfect movement and just pulling really hard.

I imagine the closest sport to climbing is gymnastics, which is also a marriage of strength and finesse. The difference is that our high bar, balance beam, and rings all exist in beautiful places in nature without ground rules, scores, or boundaries.

Because it’s mental

The strongest climbers will often argue that the sport is much more mental than it is physical. I think this claim is true for each of us when we’re climbing near our physical limits. To send a tough climb, you need to overcome a number of mental challenges.

First, you have to find just the right sequence for your hands and feet up the rock. Every climber knows that this is a puzzle that isn’t always easy to put together. Of course, we’re constructing this puzzle while dangling above our last protection with only a thin rope to save us when we fall.

I think that controlling the natural anxiety that occurs when we really really don’t want to fall is the toughest aspect of climbing. Sure, you can tell yourself that you’ve fallen before -- that you’re perfectly safe. But when you’re up there, your brain screams at you to stop. Everyone I’ve ever climbed with is impacted by it. 

Then there’s dealing with the long-term mental impacts of a project. How do we get ourselves to keep trying a climb that we’ve failed on repeatedly? Sure, failing is part of learning and improving at anything. But failure in our lives hasn't been accompanied by a fall since we learned to walk and ride our bikes, and I think that the physical fall adds a level of discouragement. Imagine someone pushing you to the ground every time you mess up a math problem. Sounds terrible, right? Everywhere else in our adult lives we can quietly erase, ignore, or justify our failures. Not in climbing.

I believe that all of this has a positive impact on us in the real world. Climbing makes us mindful of the best sequence of tasks in our every day lives. Dealing with and climbing through anxiety teaches us how to behave calmly under all kinds of pressure. And a long-term project teaches us how to deal with, face head on, and correct our failures.

Because it connects us

There is a definite kinship felt between climbers. Climbing has introduced me to great people of all ages from all across the world. But climbing also makes me feel more connected to people of the past. I recently saw a picture of Boulder, CO in the 1800s. I was struck by the juxtaposition of the completely foreign buildings with exactly the same mountains that are there today. The mountains have looked this way for longer than we can imagine. So when we're fascinated by the rocks that we play on, we weren't the first to appreciate that beauty. For thousands of years people have looked upon these mountains with awe. All at once this concept makes me feel more alive, more human, and more connected with nature.

Because it’s personal

Most climbers have a friend that hates bouldering. And most climbers have a friend that hates trad climbing. Whether you're looking for a month long adventure in Patagonia, a weekend in Rocky Mountain National Park, a half day at the crag, or a quick session on some boulders, there's something for you.

But climbing is also a very personal sport because you're not playing against anyone. A 5.8 climber can belay a 5.14 climber, so we can feel free to climb with people at all different skill levels. All the while, it makes no sense to compare yourself to the stronger climber (unless it can motivate you) because the sport is all about improving your own skills.

Because God was a climber

Do you ever finish a climb and think to yourself, "how was that possible?" How was it that perfectly human sized holds get weathered into rock with human sized spacing in between? How was that undercling in exactly the right position to allow me to reach over the completely blank part of the rock to the little crimp that was just big enough for me to hold on to? It's those moments more than anything that keep me climbing. They make me feel like I chose the right sport. To put it in the words of my friend Sid, "God must have been a climber."