Fall Risk, Week 2: Life, Narrowed

I spent most of the summer in Summit County, avoiding the heat, climbing as I pleased, river bathing, and relaxing. Jackie enjoyed increasing her mileage on the thousands of miles of trails in the area, and I enjoyed running with her… in spirit, as I rested in the van. This lifestyle meant a bit of extra driving for Jackie and I both, but being surrounded by such beauty every day (and being able to sleep without sweating our asses off every night) was very worth it.

It was probably the freest I’ve felt in my life.

I was also able to focus on just a few rock climbs this summer, and finally sent my first long term project, achieving a personal lifetime grade goal.

It was probably the strongest I’ve felt in my life.

I was on a good roll. So why, sitting in this hospital room, hardly able to sit up, still five weeks from standing, and struggling to straighten my right arm, don’t I feel more bummed out? I think the answer comes if we reanalyze the paragraphs above.

What I didn’t say in the first paragraph was that this was the first summer in years that I didn’t travel outside of Colorado to climb. And the reason for this was the same as why I focused on just a few routes — I had a minor shoulder injury. I was limited. With my possibilities narrowed, I didn’t have to decide which state would have the best climbing weather or even which local crag to visit each day. There were just three routes in and near Summit County that I knew wouldn’t hurt my shoulder, so I alternated between those.

So, it was a limitation, counterintuitively, that led to my feeling as free and as strong as ever.

But maybe this shouldn’t be so unexpected. Isn’t self-imposed limitation exactly how Jackie and I have lived our lives for the last four years? We could buy almost anything we want and live almost anywhere we want, but we have chosen to live together in a van. We’ve realized that we can be happier if we limit what we can own. That if we narrow our lives to a 6’x8’ living space, we can focus on what is most important to us.

Living in a van with Jackie is probably the happiest I’ve felt in my life.

American Sportz Climbers

Now, sitting in a hospital room with 12+ broken bones and no hope of even walking until late November, I’m as limited as ever. My life has narrowed to this bed, my wheelchair, my phone, and my one visitor per day (Jackie). I don’t have much to do but notice all of the kindness that people have shown me. Climbers and rescue crew kept me calm and conscious at the crag and got me safely and quickly to a helicopter. Hospital staff have been extremely friendly and have always greeted me with smiles despite their obviously hectic days. Friends, family, and strangers have generously offered their time, support, and love. Jackie has made a full time job of just being with me. So, sure I’m broken for a while. But being unable to leave this bed on my own has made it easier to see just how lucky I am.

This is probably the most gratitude I’ve felt in my life.

The week’s major happenings:

Sunday, September, 26: Arrived at Swedish Hospital Rehab Facility. Confirmed alive!

Transport to rehab

Tuesday: Big day! Took my first shower since the accident. It was a bit painful and tiring, but it gets me one step closer to feeling human. I also went outside!

Wednesday: Got some very kind gifts from family, friends, and students.

My students are so nice :)

Thursday: Practiced getting into a car. The car doesn’t run, but that’s beside the point.

Saturday, October 2: Room independence declared! Ok, it was given to me. I can now move about my room on my own without assistance. This really just means that I don’t need help going poop, which is actually as big a relief as pooping itself.

Fall Risk, Week 1: What is Your Pain Level?

Do you ever get the feeling that you are truly an alien being on a faraway planet? That this consciousness of yours actually belongs to the alien, but your body and experiences belong to a human on earth? You, the alien, have a glimpse through telepathy, a headset, or a wormhole or some shit, at this distant creature's life? Maybe you, the alien, are just playing a virtual reality game, tripping in a hallucinogenic experience, conducting a science experiment, or in an alien prison sentence meant to increase empathy. It feels so real, but the experience really only exists in this headset that is certain to come off before long. It's even a bit sad that this life isn't fully yours, but you do get the unique and beautiful dream of living in an Earth creature's shoes.

So let's say that you feel something within this alien experience. It could be love, happiness, jealousy, anger, or let's say, in this case, pain. Rate that pain on a scale of 1 to 10.

My best estimate as to how many times per day I get asked my pain level is around... gosh, I don't want to get this wrong... let's just say 3 million. I'm sure it's a very useful and practical question for a doctor or nurse to ask. But it raises more follow-up questions than any health professional has time to answer.

First, I assume you're talking about physical pain because I don't see any antidepressants in your candy jar? This is a problem, isn't it? When I hear the screams from the room next door, I get the distinct feeling that it's not all (or even mostly) physical pain. That person needs a friend as much as they need a pill. And I know, I know, there's a time and a place for that lovie dovie nonsense, and maybe it isn't a trauma center.

But you see how easy it is to digress from the question at hand? Let's regroup and discuss the next issue with the old 1 to 10 scale.

Which is a problem with the math. I don't think I've ever felt a 10, so I'm not sure how to calibrate. Hell, maybe I've never felt a 1 either. So as my nurse stares at me puzzled, I find myself doing a complex statistical analysis of all of the pain from my entire life using standard deviations, quartiles, and outliers to determine within one point of accuracy on a ten point scale, my current pain number. Not to mention the fact that I may be a 1 sitting perfectly still, but an 8 in a light breeze. So are we going with a 5 minute average pain level? A local maximum pain value over the domain of the last half hour? Help me doc, my number is going up fast because of algebra!

The last issue with the pain scale, of course, is that the pain doesn't fully belong to me. I'm on so many drugs, I'm not even here. I'm an alien on a distant planet, looking in at this tiny little life. Sure, I can feel all of it, but there's something missing, something even a little sad there too. Somewhere deep in the back of my mind, I know that someday I'll take this headset off.

The week's major happenings:

Sunday September, 19 2021: Fell 35 feet (click for more info). Arrived via helicopter to St Anthony's trauma center in Lakewood, Colorado. Declared alive! But with 12+ breaks including L1 and L2 vertebrae, both heels, right elbow, pelvis, sacrum, ribs, etc.

Too soon, hospital. Too soon.

Tuesday: Successful pelvis surgery. My giant-ass ass screws are sure to set off metal detectors.

Ok, this is more primitive looking than I expected. I think we could have done this surgery with a trip to Home Depot.

Wednesday: I was able to sit up and get into a chair. I developed a rash from sitting in my own sweatiness that night.

Friday: I finally pooped! Five days of blockage culminated in four tiny rock-hard turdlets in a commode. (Side note: I'm claiming rights to “Four Tiny Rock-Hard Turdlets in a Commode” as a nursery rhyme title. Look for it on my next album.)

Saturday: The poop dam was broken and all hell broke loose. Let’s not talk about it.

Sunday: A new fracture found in my knee. Ehh, what’s one more brace?

Stylish, yes. But let’s add an arm sling and a knee brace to finish the look.

Sunday (continued): My insurance company approved a rehab facility and I'll be discharged to an acute PT program at Swedish Hospital in Englewood, CO.

I'd say my pain level is at a 5. Whatever that means.

Practicing Safe Stress

My life has been easy. I’ve never been in real physical danger, I’ve never been truly sick, and I’ve never been truly hungry.

But my ancestors evolved in dangerous and difficult conditions, so I have built-in stress reactions and coping mechanisms designed for a human with a tougher life. I have a safe bed and a grocery store with plenty of affordable food, but a body and mind built for primitive survival. My evolution is way behind the times.

So what are comfy humans to do? Well, like prairie dogs in a zoo, still scanning the danger-less horizon, we get stressed anyway. 

Look out!! He's right behind you!

Currently, the number one cause of stress in the US is money. This seems strange when you consider how financially well-off Americans are compared to our fellow Earth inhabitants. So I’m willing to bet that if we had unlimited money, we’d find stress elsewhere. We wouldn’t need to look far — we often fret over politics, our jobs, sports, our relationships, the Oscars, our neighbors, Black Friday deals, our pets, traffic, our alarm clocks, the holidays, our clothes, and the number of likes we get on Instagram.

It’s not our fault. It’s in our genes — our evolution. We’re built to face danger and difficulty, and in its absence, we feel unfulfilled. This emptiness is our disease of affluence. 

Some treat this disease by creating the perception of danger while remaining relatively safe. Some jump from planes with a parachute, some drive in fast cars with airbags. Some of us practice safe stress by climbing. 

Sketch provided by Jackie Niles @idigdirt

Climbers push their physical limits, maintaining intense focus while experiencing sudden bursts of adrenaline. Wouldn’t we have the same physical experience if we were hunting (or being hunted) a hundred thousand years ago? I think that’s the point. 

We mimic our ancestral danger and put our oldest instincts to use with sport. We satisfy our deep needs for difficulty. And though we return to our comfy and safe beds at night, we keep some connection to ourselves and to our past. We can sleep soundly knowing: we still are the humans we once were.

Safe and sound

Writing, Climbing, Life

Something that I really like about writing is the revision process. When you start an essay, the first draft tends to be too big, too long, and too wordy. The ideas don’t flow, and in turn, the big concepts aren’t communicated as clearly as they could be. But you make fixes and adjustments. You rework sections. You remove phrases. Eventually, you are left with only the pieces that add value to the composition. It’s hard, but a finished essay can be so satisfying. Nothing is more beautiful than a complex concept that is clearly and concisely communicated in just a few simple, digestible paragraphs.

Every word has its purpose.

A climbing project works a lot like this too. The first time up, you grab everything in sight. You don’t want to miss any key beta, so you make sure to try it all. At first, the moves don’t flow well into each other, and you end up doing too much work for too little gain. But you rework sections. You rethink sequences. You remove holds from your beta. Eventually, you climb only what is necessary to reach the anchors. It’s hard, but a send can be so satisfying. Nothing is more beautiful than a difficult climb whittled down to its simplest form.

Every move has its purpose.  

Lately, I’ve been going through a period of revision in life too. Days, seasons, and years didn’t flow well. My life felt like it had become complicated and cluttered. I had relationships that brought too much unhappiness, and it was hard to see a clear purpose to the effort of every day. Since my last draft, I’ve made several changes. I’ve rid myself of a house, a smartphone, and almost all of my belongings. I've ended a marriage. I’ve kept the things that add value to my life, removed the things that made me unhappy, and moved into a van.

In life, I think the search for that finished essay, that send, or that final state of happiness isn’t valid. Your life is more of a novel in constant need of revision, expanding or contracting based on the situation. There is no finished product – only a hope that your latest revision is one that you could die happy with.

Revision is hard, but it can be so satisfying. Like an essay, and like a climb, there’s nothing more beautiful than a life simplified down to just the pieces that are most meaningful.

Everything has its purpose.

Rocklands Bouldering: A Trip Planning Guide

Several friends have contacted me lately with questions about our recent trip to South Africa to boulder at the Rocklands. So I decided to make a quick, clickable post to organize some basic info, some of which may be tough to find anywhere else. Here it goes:

First, get the guidebook. It costs a tiny fraction of what you'll pay for your trip. I've heard rumors that a new edition is coming, so look for that too...

Location: The climbing is located around here in the Cederberg Wilderness. The Cederberg is a nature reserve located a few hours north of Cape Town.

Flights: We ended up paying around $1700 each round trip, flying Denver/Chicago on Southwest, then Chicago/Dubai and Dubai/Cape Town on Emirates. Emirates was fantastic and didn't hassle us about our pads in the least. We heard some stories of airlines charging extra, but most airlines seemed ok with pads. To be extra safe, you'll want to check official airline rules... and dress your pads up like hockey equipment or something that doesn't incur charges.

Lodging: The main options are Traveler's Rest, Alpha Farms, and De Pakhuys. If you're traveling with a few friends, then book a cottage well in advance for the best comfort/cost option. Camping at De Pakhuys (about $5/night) is the cheapest option if you're flying solo. We got some pretty lush accommodations at Traveler's Rest for about $25/night.

Our trusty Chevy Spark outside one of our accommodations at Traveler's Rest.

Car and Driving: Unless you have some awesome friends to pick you up from the airport and drive you around every day, you'll need a car. We used Thrifty, got the cheapest option, and spent about $13/day. This little manual transmission car barely held 2 small pads and luggage for 2, and was pretty uncomfortable on the bumpy roads leading to a couple of the climbing areas. If you can swing it, a bigger car/suv is a nice luxury. 

You drive on the left side of the road in SA (which is extra interesting with a manual transmission). And it's much more of a free-for-all than on US highways. You'll notice on two lane highways that it's customary to swerve your car about half-way into the left shoulder to allow someone to pass you on the right. I didn't realize this on our first drive up to the Cederberg... and I couldn't figure out why there were so many drivers frustrated with me. But be careful -- a lot of people walk along the highways out there!

Hikes: They range from 5 minutes (8 day rain) to 30-45 minutes (the pass). Nothing is too sketchy for kids, though stay on trail and watch out for baboons and on your way to Fields of Joy :)

Beginning the hike from the pass, and heading to roadside for the day. 

Food: Eating out in South Africa is very inexpensive compared to the US. The only options near the climbing are the Restaurant at Traveler's Rest, and the Hen House coffee shop. Groceries can be obtained about 30 minutes away at Spar in Clanwilliam. It's a great, modern grocery store with all options. The meat in SA is great, but vegetarians should have no problem anywhere. Tip: Use the elevated parking garage behind Spar for the safest, no-hassle access! 

Try the malva pudding and the entrees at Traveler's Rest. If you're a sea food lover, you'll want to make the hour drive to Lambert's Bay to eat here. Oh, and if you get the chance, have a braai with some locals. 

Breakfast outside the Traveler's Rest Restaurant with our favorite French climbers.

Money and Tipping: The exchange rate is around 15 Rand for 1 USD. Goods are cheap once you're in South Africa, and everyone takes credit cards. If you need cash back for tipping or otherwise, most places allow you to add it onto your credit card purchase.

The tipping culture is not as generous as it is in the US. Standard restaurant tipping is 10% (also called a service fee). And at the gas stations, which are all full service in SA, a nice tip for filling your gas and washing your windows is 5 Rand total... they'll bring the credit card reader out to your car. 

Weather: Expect the weather to be fairly similar to a place like Hueco Tanks, but a bit wetter and the opposite season (southern hemisphere). We were there mid-June through July, and it was mostly great bouldering weather. And unlike Hueco, the park doesn't close... so if you're there on a hot day, climbing early mornings and at night is an option. The Pass provides the coolest weather, while places like 8 Day Rain and the Sassies are a bit warmer.

Serious sunsets

WiFi: Wifi can be purchased cheaply at Traveler's Rest and is free at the Hen House. During peak hours, the wifi at the Hen House is basically non-functional. I had to work online every morning and went to Traveler's Rest because it tended to be faster (fewer people). When I was there, it was something like 50 Rand for 100MB. 

Safety: Besides potential snake/baboon encounters, you're safe when out near the climbing areas and in Clanwilliam. But Cape Town is not safe compared to US cities. Muggings are common. Don't take out your cellphone while walking, and be sure to use a money belt for your passport and important items. If possible, don't go out at night or use ATMs when you're alone. But what the city may lack a bit in safety, it more than makes up for in beauty. Try a drive down chapman's peak road, or see some penguins on boulders beach!

Race: There's a much greater level of racial inequality in South Africa than in the US. It hit all of us tourists pretty hard at some point on the trip. In a sense, it's very interesting to witness, because it's like going back 50 years or so in the US. It's a good opportunity to contemplate, and have some discussions with friends and locals. 

Unexpected Beauty: Don't forget to look up at night. The night sky is fantastic and the sunsets are the best I've seen. It's actually what I miss the most from our trip. That and all of the friendly local people we met. On that note, don't forget to say hi to Aubrey at the Traveler's Rest for Craig and Natalie :) As for Crallan, Sadia, Jan, James, Charite, Javi, and Becky & James -- we hope to see you in SA again soon!

@natalieclimbs getting ready to send the Fred Nicole classic, Last Day in Paradise (7c/V9)

Wealth in the Rocklands

Anyone who travels to South Africa witnesses a culture of class, color, and inequality that takes you back. With so many people serving you in low paying jobs with poor cultural tipping standards, your affluence gets shoved in your face. We are certainly the global 1%.

While your elite socioeconomic status hits you from one side, the Rocklands climbing community gives you a shot in the opposite direction. People here are extremely strong. The elite. The climbing 1%. To give you an idea, I spent 3 sessions working The Rhino (V8) before I got the send. In most circles, this is strong. But I'm amongst the weakest climbers visiting the area. In these 3 short sessions, I witnessed about 10 climbers flash the problem, while several others sent it within a few tries. 

What the Rocklands takes in ego, it gives back in amazing sunsets

So it’s easy to feel like a bad climber at the Rocklands. What’s interesting is that I’ve heard climbers of all levels expressing this sentiment. In separate conversations, a V5 climber, a V7 climber, and a V10 climber each revealed to me that it is difficult, sometimes embarrassing, to climb amongst so many strong people. 

One of my favorites, Roof On Fire (6c+/V5). Photo: @natalieclimbs

The lesson here is that it doesn’t matter how strong you climb — someone will always be there to roll up, flash your project, and leave you feeling a bit weaker. Tomorrow, you could be 3 grades stronger, and you’ll still face the same issues… if you decide to let it get to you. But you shouldn’t.

Because there are plenty of poor individuals who are happy with what they have, and plenty of wealthy people who aren’t. There are content V2 climbers and frustrated V11 climbers. In the end, your “wealth” in life or in sport doesn’t really matter. What matters is that you decide to be happy with what you have, that you make the most of your situation, and that you strive to improve — as a climber and as a person. 

Reversing Our Mental Diminishing Returns

I took a more stressful position at work three years ago, and I’ve noticed a pattern since then. Whenever I’m on a vacation, my brain works better. My thoughts are clearer, I’m more creative, and I have a broader perspective on what’s happening around me. It’s like a dim light slowly starts to illuminate when I’m away from work, and is fully bright only 3 to 5 days later.

All climbers and athletes understand what happens when you’ve been going too hard for too long. Run, climb, or bike too many days in a row or for too many hours in a day, and you’re going to need to take it easy for a bit. A lot of climbers steal a term from economics to describe this common phenomenon – we call it diminishing returns.

@natalieclimbs showing some serious anxiety

To put it simply, diminishing returns means that when you push your body, you become tired, and the results that you receive from your effort decrease. It’s well understood that when you want to perform at your peak, you need to take some extra rest.

So here’s my question: Why don’t we fully apply this principle to our careers? The typical American work structure is one that allows for very little rest. There aren’t many sports that we could engage in for 40 hours a week, 50 weeks a year without serious physical consequences. So why don’t we expect serious mental consequences from our work structure? From both an employee’s and an employer’s perspective, it seems inefficient to have workers who are constantly battling mental diminishing returns.

Getting your hair perfect is so stressful!!

And while it’s actually quite easy for most of us first-worlders to get physical rest, mental rest is much harder to come by. How could we find space to rest our minds with all of the advertising, social media, and 24-hour news access constantly pervading our brains – not to mention the need to keep up with the responsibilities of our everyday lives. With this in mind, one might wonder why we’re surprised by the amount of mental illness and addiction in our country.

It seems strange that a concept that’s so well understood in the physical world is largely ignored in the mental world. Maybe it’s because we can easily pinpoint physical fatigue, while mental fatigue seems more abstract and vague. Maybe we can more easily connect our physical pain to past events. Maybe our minds just have trouble diagnosing themselves.

No work here, just me and the next hold. Photo: @natalieclimbs

I’m writing this because I get more vacation than my non-teaching friends, so my opportunity to frequently observe these mental losses is fairly unique. So here’s my advice: take a true mental break, take it for more than just a weekend, and take a moment to notice what it’s like to be mentally fresh. If you do, we just might start considering mental returns the same way we do physical returns.

This blog post was inspired and written on a climbing rest day, in the middle of a mental rest week, in Hueco Tanks State Park, Texas. :) 

Improve Yourself, Not Your Selfie

I think that we each have a self that we want the world to see, and a self that we'd rather not put on display. In today's world, our public self can be carefully shaped via hours of social media manipulation. As birds-of-paradise, we may ponder deep issues like the the pros and cons of a pouty-face vs duck-face selfie. And we may take that "spontaneous" selfie so many times that the picture we finally post hardly appears like the person we see in the mirror. 

When ducks take selfies, do they make people-face?

In real life, we sometimes inadvertently show our true nature. This can happen while driving, while shopping on Black Friday, or in between takes of Winnebago sales videos. This also happens while climbing.

Climbing is a scary sport with some real and many perceived consequences, so we can't help but expose our souls on the wall. Some examples that I've witnessed:

• When faced with a big move, those that are hesitant in life tend to stop and think too much. This usually leads to a growing pump and a cry of "take!" without any real attempt at the move.
• Some climbers blaze forward without enough hesitation to process the best course of action. This can lead to entertaining but not-so-stylish swinging, spinning, banging-against-the-wall type falls.
• When climbing for the first time, some make it half-way up the wall and declare, "I'm done, let me down," while others are determined to finish, pulling on anything they can get their hands on until they've made it to the top

These varying responses to challenge and stress are bigger than climbing -- they tell us who we are. And each situation can teach us a lesson in real life.

• Fear of consequences can paralyze us and keep us from succeeding. 
• Lack of planning and thoughtfulness can make us look silly.
• Determination goes a long way.

Guns out tongues out

Our climbing is a reflection of our true selves, not just the self that we want to show to others.  If a hesitant climber becomes more confident, or a wild climber learns to reign in their emotions, they've made strides in more than just climbing -- they've learned about themselves and about life.  And there's no faking it... no pouty-face that will get a climber to the top. These changes have to be real. 

What makes our sport so beautiful is that when we become better climbers, we also become better people.

Your Life is Happening: Math and Climbing (Part 2)

I imagine you've heard a student ask, "When am I ever going to use this in life?" in a math class. Maybe you nodded in agreement... maybe the question came from your own mouth... or maybe this sentiment still echoes in your mind in the form of nightmares about your days in school. It's a fair question though, isn't it? Yet educators often react quite viscerally to it.

Cartoon owls are always so smart...

Having been asked "When in life will I ever use this?" myself, I know that the question is more often a display of a defeatist attitude than that of true curiosity. I sometimes imagine climbers training in the gym asking a similar question. "Why do I have to hangboard -- it's boring!" or "When will I ever need to campus from rung 1 to 3 to 5, and then back down?" or "When will I ever have to do a sit-up?" When put into a slightly different context, the question "when will I ever use this in life?" seems absurd on many levels. 

So what's the difference between the math student and the training climber in regards to this question? Choosing to be there is the first big distinction. While climbers are training to improve at their chosen sport, most students probably don't take full ownership of their choice to become educated by attending high school or college. Unfortunately, an education is more often about meeting social expectation than obtaining self-fulfillment. Another distinction is respect. We've all learned about climbing from a super strong friend or our favorite professional climber's blog. But most folks don't have a math sensei. In fact, many of our friends and parents would probably say that they don't like math. And to be honest, not too many math teachers are walking around with cool points falling out of their pockets. 

I think that he should be able to handle this lecture without referencing his book...

There's usually a good honest answer to the question of why we learn the math that we learn in school. Most math classes are a balancing act. For example, I'd say a typical College Algebra (or algebra 2) class is about 10% real world application, 65% preparation for Calculus, 20% critical thinking, and 5% art.

But the question "when in life..." misses the most obvious point. It's important to realize that what is happening to us right now is, in fact, life. Life is not something we have to wait on graduation to begin. We don't need to have a new job, a new car, or a new relationship to start living.

And we have a lot of control over our lives! If you choose a life that puts you into a math class, then at the very least you're expected to prove to your future college/employer that you are capable of learning complex concepts. So...

Q: When in life am I ever going to have to use this?

A: This is your life. So right now.

Thankful for Rest Days in Hueco

Ever since my college adopted the full-week-off-for-Thanksgiving schedule, Natalie and I have made the most of the vacation at a warm climbing spot. Red Rocks in Las Vegas used to be the destination of choice, and would mark our last sport climbing trip until the following summer. Lately, Thanksgiving has become our first bouldering trip of the season, and we've been happily spending the week in Hueco Tanks State Park.  

I'm no senior citizen, but I'm also not the youngest guy out here. Bouldering takes a toll on your body... after about an hour of hard bouldering, I'd say I could be sore for three solid days. But with only a week to climb as much as possible, there's no time for such a pampered approach toward the sport. We typically climb two days in a row, take a much needed rest day, and repeat.

Enjoying "Nobody Here Gets Out Alive" -- the best V2 in the world

I love rest days so much. Sitting motionless has always been a pastime of mine, but the joy of inaction is greatly enhanced when every muscle hurts. Today, my list of chores consisted solely of warming up my brand new climbing shoes in the sun, squeezing them onto my feet, and leaving them on for 10 minutes to stretch them out. This ambitious goal required approximately 47 seconds of actual activity. The sun did the rest of the work, leaving me with ample time to consider my cosmic foot-binding connections with that of a 19th century upper-class Han Chinese woman.  

My new favorite rest day "activity" in Hueco

Bound feet, bloody fingers, and living in a van with two cats might seem unattractive to many. But it feels like upper-class living to me.

Math and Climbing

I often draw parallels between my life as a math educator and my life as a climber. I believe that what makes someone good at math is the same thing that makes someone good at climbing (or any other activity for that matter). Determination, willingness to work on your weaknesses, and not being afraid of public and private failure top the list of necessary attributes. 

Plus sign, gettin' swole

At one point, I actually brought Dave MacCleod's book 9 out of 10 Climbers Make the Same Mistakes to my math classes. I would read passages from it to my students, replacing the climbing terms with math terms. Here's an example:

Those who start (doing math) and find they are not as talented from the start should take heart at this phenomenon of (math) progression. The longer they keep at it, the more the playing field tips in their favor. Struggling from day one teaches you early to enjoy the moment of small daily successes, even if it's that you kept showing up and gave it everything. This is perfect training for later and higher (level classes)...

Now try to replace the words in parentheses with terms about golf, piano, or any other skill. The wisdom still applies, right? 

@natalieclimbs, demonstrating the grit necessary for climbing (and math) improvement

I always tell my students that, while I'd love to believe otherwise, I'm not special because I'm good at math. I just worked really hard at it for a really long time. The social perception that certain people can get math and certain people can't is wrong, and it keeps a lot of people from succeeding in school. 

I often need to remind myself about this with climbing.  While they might seem superhuman, Ondra, Lightner, and Ashima have simply put in a lot more hours than me on the rock and in the gym. I started late in life, so I'll never catch up to those life-long climbers in training time... so maybe I shouldn't expect to ever send 5.15. But I am wise enough to know to focus on my weaknesses and to not be afraid to fail. And I learned a lot of grit as I struggled with math problems for hours in my college's library. That should go a long way.

Climbing hero, Ashima Shirashi showing off her little kid strength

As a student of rock climbing, I've learned that the difference between me and the pros is hard work and quality time committed. It's an empowering concept that I wish everyone would take to heart in their own lives. So in between my climbing training sessions, I'll be sure to share this message with the students training in my classroom.

Heroes in Our Backyard

Something that always strikes me about climbing is how accessible the pros are. Especially here in Colorado, you frequently see the best climbers in the world working routes and problems right next to you. I compare it to playing basketball in your local gymnasium and having Lebron James and Kevin Durant walk in and start shooting around.

Sure, I live in a climbing bubble. I know that most people don't plan their lives around rest days. I know that the most likely response to "Hey, that's Chris Sharma!" is "Who?". And I know that most people don't view ancient petroglyphs on an overhanging piece of rock the way I do — as an act of terror, perpetrated in the distant past. 

Did you have to put that mess right next to the great side-pull?? You ruined a classic line, brah!

I get it... rock climbing has a pretty small fanbase. Still, Tommy Caldwell and Kevin Jorgenson were all over the news after their free ascent of the dawn wall. But there they were, just a few feet away at the Reel Rock film tour in Boulder a few weeks ago. No entourage, no separation from the crowd, and seemingly no ego. This is something that I really appreciate and value about the sport. The distance between the newbies and the pros is the few feet between the 5.10 and the 5.14 on the same piece of rock.

The sport has grown, but it hasn't entered the realm of basketball, hockey, bowling, or even ballroom dancing. There aren't tens of thousands of select youth climbing teams across the country, not many high schools have a climbing team, it's not an olympic sport, and to my knowledge there aren't any climbers with million dollar endorsement deals.  

When I make it big, I'll be climbing with solid gold caribiners

When, or if, the sport grows to the point where the best climbers in the world become household names, I hope to still see them out there on the rock. Still making friendly conversation with the amateurs, still making the connection with nature that shaped their love of the sport... and still warming up on my projects. 

But What of My Boner?

I wouldn’t call myself a fan of the NFL, but I do like watching the occasional game. Football is the sport of wild celebrations after almost every play. It’s the sport where the refs place the ball somewhat randomly on the ground and then measure with incredible precision whether a first down was achieved. It’s the sport where overzealous analysts declare that “they were just a better football team today” immediately after the game was won on a last second drive filled with low percentage plays and lucky calls. 

But one of my favorite things about football is the erectile dysfunction commercials. Call me crazy, but I just like it when a good looking middle aged lady reads me the many side effects and informs me of the proper procedure for handling my 4-hour erection. I like watching the couples (with wedding rings clearly visible) having a little bit of flirtation. I can’t help but daydream about a bit of hand-holding with my wife as we watch the sunset from our very own his-and-hers outdoor bathtubs. 

Today, a friend stopped by to watch the Packers game, and I was filled with expectation. While the players delivered their typical hilarious celebration antics from the first play, the advertisers did not. I was extremely disappointed to have not seen a single Viagra commercial, let alone the 10 to 20 that I expected to enjoy. It seems that spreading the gospel of the enhanced erection has been replaced… by fantasy football commercials. Maybe everyone who needs to is already popping Cialis like candy. Maybe impotence has been cured. Or maybe boners are passé, and winning fantasy football leagues destroyed getting erections in recent consumer polls. Either way, watching the game just wasn’t the same. 

Sure, I still get a chuckle whenever I see a player on the sidelines who needs an assistant to pour water into his own mouth. I won’t deny the joy I feel when, despite the incredible violence that we all just witnessed, a broadcaster feels the need to apologize for a four-letter word that was inadvertently aired. And I’ll never stop loving the sight of that gyrating fat man covered in body paint. But the experience just isn’t the same without erectile dysfunction commercials. So if you’re reading this, NFL, I have an ultimatum to deliver with a very heavy heart: bring the Viagra commercials back, or I will boycott your great league. 

A Van, 2 Cats, and a Dream (Part 3)

We are so lucky. I’m two generations removed from a boy who lived with his mom and 9 siblings in a single room farmhouse… his family was so poor that he was limited to two squares of toilet paper when he used the bathroom (I wish I made up this sad, confusing, and hilarious fact). My grandfather and his siblings had to fight to survive. Now, I have a life where I’m able to ask the question, “What should I do to be truly happy?” or in the words of my previous post, “How Sid do we want to be?” Given such recent hardships in my family, I feel a bit embarrassed to even ask such esoteric questions.

But after this wonderful road trip, it does seem natural to wonder if we could make this lifestyle a bit more permanent. Live in our van, relax, not work very much — continue skimming the cream of life, as Sid would say.

El Vanny Blanco resting in the Cloud Peaks Wilderness area near Ten Sleep, WY.

I think that we could live this lifestyle if we wanted to. The thing is, I have a really great job. Teaching at a community college pays enough and comes with great benefits. I get summers off, and a nice vacation for every other season of the year. Most importantly, I legitimately like helping people learn math. As much as I want to run for the hills and never look back, I do want to keep my job for now. 

Leonard was not too pleased to wake up in the middle of a cattle drive.

As far as what we call our home, we have the option of selling or renting our house to live in the van full time. El Vanny Blanco feels like home, so we will definitely make a road trip every summer. But there would be some downsides to year-round van life. Writing and recording music is much more difficult in a van, as are things like using a bathroom, getting a shower, and just finding a little space to yourself. It’s not as tough as living with 9 siblings, but the 4 of us are a bit squeezed in at times. For now, having a house is a nice convenience for the other 9 months of the year. I think we’ll keep it that way. (But after realizing that we can comfortably fit all of our belongings into a van, we will be regulars at the Goodwill donation center.)

Natalie at Yellowstone Lake

My grandfather had a difficult, very poor upbringing. But all of his children ended up living much more comfortable lives. A generation later, we are living lives that are almost too lush -- we live in overwhelming comfort. Many people our age feel unnerved by the ownership and consumerism that was unavailable just two generations ago, and we find ourselves longing for simplicity. We we want to live happy lives, not just lavish ones. So for now, if only in the summers, Natalie and I will mimic the life of my grandfather, living in a single room with our entire family, thanking him for his struggles, and making the most of what he and his generation gave us.  

We Are Birds-of-Paradise

If you watch birds around where you live, most just search for food and eat all day long. They need to in order to survive. The rest of their lives are spent mating, laying eggs, nesting, and feeding babies without much spectacle. They seem pretty well adjusted.

Now watch a video on birds-of-paradise. They are insane. They collect colorful rocks, make intricate nests, and come up with all kinds of crazy mating rituals. Why? Well, they can find and eat enough food to survive in their lush rainforests in just a few hours a day. So they have a whole lot of time on their hands to come up with bizarre things to do. Sound familiar, human?

Posing with a stuffed moose wearing a bandana? That's bizarre behavior!

People in this country are especially crazy. We throw balls through hoops, drive in big circles for hours, kill other animals for sport, groom our dogs, shop for the perfect dress (for our dogs), put mozzarella sticks on hamburgers, remodel our countertops, fret over the color of our houses, and endlessly watch other people do all of the above on TV. 

I don’t think evolution had a plan for high-strung species that can satisfy their basic needs so quickly. 

Walking your cat? Crazytime!

If you’re reading this, you probably don’t have to spend much time feeding yourself. So you and I are included in this madness. We all need to find something that we love to do, something to fret over, or maybe even obsess about. What’s most important is finding that weird little thing that’s perfect for you. 

Some of us choose to climb up rocks with our spare time. Not necessarily to the top, not necessarily very high off the ground, and not necessarily using the easiest path.  We fight, we scream, and we bleed our way through the moves. We get emotional when we fail. We curse these climbs, then we praise them, and tell anyone that will listen about the sick moves that we did (while they pretend to listen, waiting for their turn to spray their sick moves back at us). It’s insane. Even more insane than those colorful birds.

It’s a bit sad that the birds-of-paradise, as they toil away at their nests, may never understand how good they really have it. But we can. So next time you are anything but grateful to be climbing, even if it’s a bad day, and even if you feel particularly weak, take a second to realize that your behavior is bizarre… and this is because you’re in paradise. 

Life, Climbing, and Failure

My climbing has become an almost comical real-life enactment of the saying “fall seven times, stand up eight.”

The first of many burns on Dances With Cows

I started a new project a week or so ago — Dances With Cows (13a). I’ll cut to the chase, and shamefully admit that as of today, I have failed on this climb 17 times. This is more than I’ve ever been on any climb before. The thing is, it wouldn’t be the hardest climb I’ve ever done. I expected to send in about 5 attempts, even after giving it a few tries. The combination of high expectations and lack of results feels pretty crappy, and any serious climber has experienced this. Here are some questions I recently asked myself:

Do I think that sending this climb is important? No.

Will I be overjoyed if/when I send? Not really. 

So then the most important question becomes, “Why do I keep doing it?” The answer is simply, “Because it’s my project.” I chose it, and I can’t give up. 

What I realized today on the long slog back to the parking lot is that projecting is about failure, or more specifically, responding to failure. I won’t learn all there is to learn on this climb if I don’t keep trying. And I don’t intend to start the bad habit of cutting my losses. 

... and the first of many falls.

This is where climbing is most applicable to other areas of life.  If you want to grow, it’s important to get outside of your comfort zone and try something new and difficult. And if you want to do anything well, whether it’s learning to play an instrument, learning math, playing a sport, or even losing weight, you have to fail. And then you have to keep trying. 

I think that many of us quit when faced with our most difficult challenges. It’s easier to say that we didn’t reach our goal because we didn’t try very hard, because we weren’t interested enough, because circumstances got in the way, or for some reason that we invented to rationalize away our failing. I’m not going to do that with this climb. 

My story with this route isn’t finished. But my success won’t be defined by sending. Success is never quitting. 

Cool as Cauliflower in Ten Sleep, WY

The cucumber has somehow gotten a pretty nice reputation for being chill. It’s undeserved in my opinion. I was recently wondering if this prestige was simply born of the alliteration “cool cucumber” when a friend pointed out that, by my logic, it could just as easily be cauliflower that is cool. This actually has a nice ring to it, so I’m using it from now on. 

Staying cool as cauliflower is one of the toughest things about climbing. If I’ve taken a long break from climbing routes outside, I can feel nervous and a bit out of control on the wall for weeks. I’m not alone — I’ve seen the tremor hand or Elvis leg in just about everyone I’ve ever climbed with. 

My wife Natalie (@natalieclimbs) looking cool on her warm up (Euro Trash Girl 10b)

When you’re worried about falling, the tunnel vision and pump from over-gripping help you achieve the self-fulfilling prophecy.

It’s really hard to manage stress on the wall. You might be able to reduce these failure-inducing feelings with breathing, focusing hard on only the next move, or compartmentalizing the fear. But really, there’s no magic trick. 

Corey Carver doing his best cauliflower impression on his warm-up, Werewolves of London (10d)   Photo: Natalie Jaime

So what’s to be done? In my opinion, there’s no substitute for desensitization. Climb outside often. More importantly, get out of your comfort zone and start a project. Find a route with safe falls that will probably take you 10 attempts to send, and force yourself to do it. You’ll eventually get comfortable falling on it, and this comfort will translate to other climbs. You might also send in 4 tries and realize that you’re stronger than you think. I’ve honestly made more mental climbing improvements in just a few projects than in all of the 11s and low 12s I’ve ever done.

Hiking back from the Lake Point crag in Ten Sleep Canyon

Of course, I’m no pro… but maybe that’s why you should listen. I still know what it is to fight hard for a 5.10, feel embarrassed by my nerves, and feel weaker than the climbers around me.

Having said that, I’m going to take my own advice tomorrow in Ten Sleep Canyon and start a new project. I may never be a cucumber, but I’m fighting hard to at least be as cool as cauliflower. 

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

Natalie and I were taking a romantic stroll through Walmart in Spearfish, SD, laughing at the random products: a hot dog slicer in the shape of a wiener dog, a hello kitty cupcake bedazzling set, gangsta garden gnomes. Poking fun at ridiculous consumerism does pass the time. But after living in a van for a few weeks, what struck me is how many other products have entered into the "comically unnecessary" category. Normal things. Buying anything that we already have one of or almost everything in the non-grocery side of the store would only be dead weight. I wonder if that feeling of the burden of ownership will stay with us when we get back to our Colorado home in August.

Gus and Nat hanging in Spearfish City Park

Three weeks into our two month trip and now in Ten Sleep Canyon, WY, we’re really glad to not be in a tent. Finding a place to camp for free is easy, and we’re not stuck in the same spot for weeks. There have also been several stormy nights that would have made for terrible sleep in a tent that were downright cozy in the protection of our van. So far van life is, in fact, the dream.

Climbing in Spearfish, SD

To answer your first question about living in a van with cats, yes… the van smells terrible when they poop. We thought we could do a nice job of masking that with a high quality litter and an additive, but it doesn’t work. I mean, I guess we shouldn’t expect a turd 20 inches from our noses to smell nice. Just grin, scoop, and toss it as fast as possible. I’ll also say that our fancy hippie litter was not the best for clumping/removing urine… leading to a bit of an accident that had us at the Spearfish Laundromat until 1am. OK, lengthy cat waste discussion: complete.

Leonard not enjoying his harness

I think I’ll leave the question of whether we can/want to do this full time for the end of the trip. For now, I’m struck by how quickly we can adapt to different living situations. I haven’t had the slightest thought about our suburban home since we left. I’m also surprised by how this honestly feels like some of the cushiest living imaginable. This is not roughing it. We’ve given up very little and have gained so much in return. I really enjoy the slow pace and downtime that van life has brought. Lots of time to think, write, climb, make music, and just be a lazy bum. Most importantly, I feel closer to living a life that’s simplified to just the things that make me happy. No hotdog slicers and gangsta gnomes. Just music, climbing, and our little family. 

Spearfish Canyon, SD — A Brief, Clickable Climbing Review

Well, we're moving on. Not because we didn't enjoy the climbing, but because the extended forecast in the whole region includes some very hot weather that the cats aren't going to enjoy. Having spent a couple of weeks here, we learned a few things.  Here's what you need to know if you’re considering taking a climbing trip to Spearfish Canyon, SD. 

Some nice signage leading to the climbs

Guidebook: Spearfish Canyon, The VC, and other Black Hills Limestone, Mikel Cronin 

Drive: 6 hours from Denver. Shorter than expected!

Best time to visit: Probably fall, but spring and summer are great too. We’re here in June, and highs are mostly in the 70s and 80s.  

Sun/Shade: Both sun and shade can be found on the rock at all times of the day. The guidebook has details for each crag. 

Camping: Camping in the canyon (hwy 14a) is not allowed, but there are a few pay campgrounds near the climbing (Hannah, Rod and Gun, Timon) . There is also a long dirt road just off of the main canyon (road 222) with some free but not so great primitive camping opportunities. We haven’t found any free tent camping areas regularly visited by climbers. Van camping is the way to go :)

Approaches: The drive from town to the crags is in the 30 minute range. Road 222 is closer to most crags. Hikes are typically pretty short… 10-15 minutes on average. All are pretty steep. The guidebook includes a kid-friendly rating for each crag, which is nice.

The Climbing: The rock is limestone and isn’t too dissimilar from Shelf Road, CO or Ten Sleep, WY. Probably almost 1000 sport climbs in the canyon, but I wouldn’t go far out of my way to visit unless you are comfortable warming up on mid-10s and projecting at least in the high 11 range. With exceptions, the quality of climbs below 11a tend to be lower. But there are tons of great 12s and 13s! Bolting is good and isn’t as run-out as we were told. We haven’t felt unsafe on any climb so far. Bring a helmet to belay — some areas still have loose rock. Grades can be stout especially on the warm-ups. And don't forget a stick clip. 

Natalie getting warmed up (see more pictures of Nat on Instagram @natalieclimbs)

Phone Service: Phone service in the canyon is spotty, but great in town. We actually tend to get good signal up at the walls.

Nearby Amenities: The town of Spearfish has everything you could need including strong 4G signal, Walmart, library, rec center/waterpark, and a cute downtown area. The town is at the north end of the canyon, 30 or so minutes from the climbing. 

Rest Day Activities: The rec center is nice and has showers, City Park is beautiful, and there are coffee shops in town. Also, it’s pretty touristy in these parts. Mt Rushmore, Crazy Horse, Custer St Park, Wind Cave NP, Jewel Cave NM are all within 2 hours.

Gus enjoying the view

Water: There is at least one water pump in City Park. The pay campgrounds have them too.

Public Bathrooms: There's one not far up 222, and there are many restrooms in parks in Spearfish.

Bugs: Yep, it’s pretty buggy right now. Lots of rain this season may have made for a bad mosquito year, but we're covered in bites.

What We'll Miss the Most: The quiet at the crags. We walked right up and got on every climb we wanted, didn't wait in line, and hardly climbed near anyone else for two weeks. 

Heading out to Ten Sleep, WY tomorrow — one of our favorite spots. See you there!

Charging Our Batteries in Spearfish, SD

My wife Natalie knows that I can be a little fanatical about the batteries in my electronic devices. If it’s getting below 60%, I’m starting to feel a bit anxious. Ok, I’m at 58% now… if we went out climbing for the day, and I accidentally left GPS enabled, my phone could die! The dire consequences of this tragedy are that the telemarketers wouldn’t be able to bother me, I wouldn’t be able to check my work email, and I wouldn’t be able to read about the most recent police shooting. This actually sounds like one of the best days of the year to me. Clearly my fears are not rational.

But I’m not alone. Judging from the panic and frustration I see in the faces of those searching for the nearest outlet in coffee shops and airports, we all seem worried about suddenly being disconnected. What if we can’t respond to our friend’s text? What if we don’t know the directions? Oh the loneliness, the helplessness!

But wait. It’s kind of nice to be disconnected. After a brief detoxification, it frees your mind to focus on what’s right in front of you. Without all of the distractions, you can truly be present. This is something that I love about climbing. When you’re climbing at your limit, there is nothing else happening in the world. There’s no space for it.

Finishing up AstroPop (11.b) in the Sunshine area of Spearfish Canyon

In your worst moments on the wall, you may be worrying about how you’ll make your next clip, how you can’t hold on because you’re too tired, or how big your fall is going to be. In your best moments, you make moves gracefully and powerfully to the top, performing a well-rehearsed dance to a genre of music that you can’t quite describe without having experienced it yourself. Either way, you’re not worrying about the batteries in your phone while you’re up there. On the wall, there’s nothing more important than right now. And frequently finding that mental state is really good for you.

Our trusty El Vanny Blanco parked in Spearfish Canyon 

While plugging in charges our devices, unplugging recharges our souls. Strangely, over the past few years, I’ve often been less concerned about my own batteries than those in my electronics. This two month road trip is about correcting that. 

So you can contact me tomorrow. Today, while climbing in the splendor of Spearfish Canyon, I think I’ll leave my phone behind, unused and unplugged, letting its batteries silently and beautifully run to zero.