A new kind of barbecue

I'm taking a grant writing class, sort of. This is what I write for it:

Progression in climbing shows no sign of slowing down. Objectives are getting more dangerous and more difficult by the day. The layman’s project is moving closer to walking for professionals, and no one has a sense of humor about it. We, as climbers, get too invested in pushing ourselves to the next level. We forget to sit back once and a while and goof off. Bust out a dance move mid-route, blast Disney music from a boom box in your pack, or wear your biggest sombrero over your helmet. For me, this playfulness is simply inseparable from climbing. I need playful objectives as well as serious ones. From my experience, the silly accomplishments that I’ve shared with friends have been at least as memorable as the serious accomplishments. And surely there is a place to be focused on trying your hardest, but without a balance I start to rely too heavily on my own personal growth as a climber and not enough on the connections I make through climbing.

            Jackson Depew and I have been climbing with various amounts of cheer since the beginning of our relationship as climbing partners. For us, rock climbing has always been a funny thing. We’ve spent the last two years leading rock climbing trips with this exact philosophy in the forefront of our minds (read: costume climbing trips, speaking in accents, etc.). So when our friends all came back from Moab boasting about this super scary, exposed, tear-inducing tower called Castleton Tower, we chuckled a bit and applauded our friends for their efforts, but at that moment the seed was planted. Desert towers sounded radical, and we wanted to have a barbecue on top of the proudest one.

            I grew up in Philadelphia, a city with about three boulders, none bigger than 20 feet. It is an unlikely place to produce a rock climber, especially considering its distance from mountains, but here I am. My long time friend Gabe Adels first introduced me to rock climbing at the local climbing gym. We climbed together off and on together in high school, however my enthusiasm was ever increasing. I caught the bug, and I have Gabe to thank for my entire life direction. I moved to North Carolina to pursue a life as an outdoor educator and rock climber. Gabe has since stopped climbing with any amount of regularity, but I’ve always promised I would take him up the biggest cliff I could manage.

            Receiving this grant would provide me with an invaluable opportunity to do what I have been dreaming of doing for years: provide the goofiest introduction to multi-pitch climbing possible for Gabe while summiting the most iconic desert tower known with my best friends. None of us have climbed anything notable outside the southeast, which has resulted in the honing of skills such as climbing slabs, placing tri-cams, and the ability to listen to bluegrass music. While these skills are all useful, we long to feel the desert sandstone. Our wages as part-time climbing instructors do not afford us the opportunity to drive very far or take much of a break from our jobs. If given this opportunity, we would gladly show our gratitude to the American Alpine Club through the creation of a video and slideshow, documenting the process of having a barbecue on top of Castleton Tower.



I'm going to ride my bike, read books, and laugh all weekend. I'm stoked.



Riley.

Jaded Senior Syndrome

Climbing in winter sucks. There is no doubt about this. In a perfect world we would be content to just sit in coffee shops and shmooze all day from the months of December to February. We’d talk of last night’s daily show and laugh about strange and unknown things. You know, I would even settle for drinking a beer and doing my homework in my bed. At least it would be warm.

But no, the relentless desire to fling myself up rocks (real or fake) is ever-present. And let me reiterate: Climbing in winter sucks. The skin around your fingernails cracks and bleeds. Every aching tendon or pulley acts as a collection of old rubber bands, threatening to break at any time. It doesn’t even really matter if you’re inside or outside; it’s all the same in the winter.

So let's assume you’ve overcome this crux and somehow mustered up the requisite amount of inspiration needed to move at all. Climbing in winter goes a little like this:

You sit on the floor and look at your climbing shoes. Then you look at the climbing wall. Then you look back to your climbing shoes with an increasingly furrowed brow. With much distain, you slowly unlace your shoes. Once barefoot, you start the process of using your warm and wet breath to preheat the inside of your climbing shoes. What the fuck ever.

There was a time when you could just start climbing at this point. You could just walk up to your long-term project and cruise it in front of all the cutest girls. But now your tendons and muscles know better than to give you that luxury. So they require you to slowly traverse back and forth the bottom of the wall, still wearing the down jacket you wore during the walk. Your ankles turn as white as the winter you’re running from.

Then you climb. Blahblahblahblah, it was totally radical, blahblahblah. Inside, you climb the same greasy routes you put up three weeks ago while blasting a mixtape of only Wu-Tang and Jedi Mind Tricks. Outside, you try desperately to warm up, but instead just lie around on the crash pads with all your favorite dawgs and giggle.

People often bash climbing in summer, saying “I’m too hot. It’s too humid. I’m a super wuss. All the cute girls went swimming.” But really, that’s all a bunch of melodrama. Excuses are excuses, no matter what season. I roll my shorts up to my crotch in summer; I tuck my long underwear into my climbing shoes in winter. The temperature is always changing, but the feeling of vitality you get from any climbing at all is always constant. Winter climbing is a special sort of hell, but at least it’s climbing at all.

Afterwards you put your down jacket back on. The skin on your fingers is red and thin, just as it looks in summer, except this time you’re wearing boots. Life isn't that bad, it's just that climbing in winter sucks.

I’m going to re-set the climbing wall this weekend. Expect Wu-Tang.

Riley.

Updater, the pizza maker.

Hey Dudes.

I know I don't write on this ever. I assure you it is solely because Jackson isn't around to share the morning latte ritual. But, you know, he'll be back soon. Until then, I'll do my best.

Now for the update: I'm moving to Yosemite in May to take a job as a backpacking and rock climbing guide. Come visit? I'll bring the pizza, you bring the hats?



Yosemite HD from Project Yosemite on Vimeo.



The Way Home: Returning to the National Parks from NPCA on Vimeo



Love, Riley