It’s hard, right? There's no right or wrong answer, but it probably feels as if someone just asked you for the meaning of life. I mean you’ve thought about it, but you never really THOUGHT about it. That little blank forces you to consider on a personal, maybe even a spiritual level, why you have such a shatterproof, inseparable connection to this entity called rock climbing. Be it the sense of community, the environment, the act itself, or a combination of the above, there is a definable reason for being this deep in it. There’s a point where the word “climbing” becomes more than it appears – it becomes a place of worship, escape, a solitude unmatched by anything else, an incessant need. Understanding why is something else. The only logical way to arrive at an honest answer is to first ask the question – what is climbing, really? And that’s exactly what UC did this past fall when we approached the world’s best climbers at the Nor’easter, the Northeast’s biggest sport climbing and music festival.
It seemed like the Rumney, NH venue attracted the entire climbing world, which made it the perfect opportunity to shoot portraits and pop the question to climbers (of course we gave them some time to think about it) who, within a few days time, would disperse allover the globe. But while they were there, sharing the same space, getting a solid dose of inspiration before their next endeavor, we knew there’d be no better time to approach this project.
Climbers all share a fairly common story. We each tried to be good at some mainstream sports or lifestyle before somehow becoming comfortable, accepted, and settled in the climbing community. And so, by a natural process, we are all the same in more ways than you might think. The 50 year-old Doctor working his first 5.12 ain't that different from the 18 year-old mutant climbing bum if you distill the scenarios down and get rid of the peripherals. Just like surfers who share the welcome and wrath of the ocean, climbers universally know the feelings of clipping the chains, topping out a bouldering project, and feeling scared shitless when biting more than they can chew on a solid piece of earth. It’s all regardless of the level of difficulty. It all comes down to reason. There are reasons why climbing is it for each and every one of us – personal, spiritual, and truthful reasons. Read on and find yours.
There is a language barrier between the emotions we feel and the metaphors we use to translate them. Feelings don’t have language. If you held a mirror up to your emotions, you would see nothing. Not because there is nothing there, but because they cannot be roped into observation and language. Climbing, by the accident of its intensity and place, transports you to the realm of a truly human experience free of the blindness and weight of the observer. The lacerating familiarity under your fingers doesn’t matter because the adrenaline and joyfulness compress it into the experience. What brings you there is a considered decision, but that drops away when you are in the moment. As emotions reveal themselves, but don’t explain themselves, a spiritual experience is present. You are simply another piece of the natural world and not an observer of your place in it. As climbers, I believe we are all in someway connected to that same uplifted feeling.
Two thousand feet up a giant Patagonian spire, I can feel the void below. I can hear the wind howling around the spire and ice crystals tinkering as they fall, entwined with occasional loud explosions. Looking down across an erratically crevassed, brilliant white glacier, I see a turquoise lake, and, below that, peaceful plains. I find a melting icicle and let its refreshing cold drips splash onto my tongue. I look up and see nothing but steep granite and blue sky and know we still have a long way to go. I realize that the only way down is going over the top
It’s times like this when I can feel God in everything. The fear of failure mixed with the overwhelming anticipation of realizing a goal; the bond that is created between partners; the breathtaking beauty around us. That moment – it’s far greater than me. It connects me to my surroundings. It opens my awareness, engages my senses, and breathes life into me. The mountains are my church, and climbing is my way to worship.
“The mountains are my church, and climbing is my way to worship.”
For me climbing is moving meditation. To focus our minds so single-pointedly that the self melts away, and pure awareness, energy, and emotion are the only things left remaining. It pushes us to our limits, forces us to shed unnecessary thoughts (of the past, ideas of the future, what we are going to eat for dinner, etc.) and allows us to be fully immersed in the present, alive, interacting with nature, being human. In these moments exist the true fanatismo that I live for – they give me piece of mind and a sense of purpose in my life.
I climb because it frees me from the world below and challenges me to test the limits of my mind and body. It is an act that defies human nature and logic. Gravity pulls me towards the earth as I fight to reach higher. I love this fight. It is a fight of instinct and emotions: fear, desire, failure, success. I desire to succeed, but not without experiencing the fear and rejection of failure.
Climbing is exceptional in that it will never cease to develop and challenge those who push their own personal boundaries. I struggle knowing that I will never be satisfied, never content, and perpetually searching for new challenges. Nature will never fail to present me with challenges. Every line presents unique movements, obstacles, and complexities. It never gets old. It never gets boring. And it never gets easy. I am in constant pursuit of perfect movement, the union of body and mind. I sacrifice my energy and spirit toward achieving this ultimate goal.
Climbing is a shared passion among those who practice it. We are spiritually invested into this endeavor. It is the center of our world, our focus and our faith.
“It never gets old. It never gets boring. And it never gets easy.”
Without climbing I'm moody. My body fills with adrenaline and nervous energy, and I begin to feel that my life is out of balance. When climbing, the world falls back into place. Chaos is replaced by order. Calm energy takes over and I feel at peace again. When I’m committed 100% to my goal, all else is pushed aside. My plans for the future, my friends, my world, everything I do revolves around my love of climbing. I am forever partly at the mercy of the joy or pain that climbing brings me, and partly in control of it. I don't entirely understand what it is in climbing that gives me such pleasure; no doubt there are many aspects to it. Nor do I understand the moods I feel when constrained and unable to get out there. What I do know is that when climbing, the effort I put in comes entirely from my heart. That feeling of doing something for the sheer love of it – and no other reason – is perhaps what I most crave.
“Chaos is replaced by order. Calm energy takes over and I feel at peace again.”
Climbing is the main part of my life. Honestly, I am one of those people who are completely obsessed, and I indulge in the sport entirely. I don’t have a job. I don’t have rent. I don’t have debt. That passion for climbing has made me work my ass off and form this life as I live it. Some say I put all my eggs into one basket, but I believe this is the best way to progress and be fully involved in the sport I love. It’s funny, though, the real reasons why I love this shit so much is still an anomaly.
My passion for going to the cliff today feels the same as it did when I discovered climbing. After my send of Kryptonite (my hardest yet), I realized an emotional change take place. I have matured as a climber in the past two or three years, finding progression within projects taking on new meanings. I am a goal-oriented person, and, maybe, that is why completing new routes and pushing my limits feels so natural.
Exhilaration, for me, comes from sensory overload – driving to the area, smelling the rock, seeing the chalk float through the air, and feeling the determination through to those last burns of the day. Everything is so personal and methodical. I find clarity in my world when I’m fully immersed in climbing. Every single day I wake up feeling a demand to acquire a climbing fix. The props from my friends are the only recognitions I care for. The camaraderie and community in rock climbing is one of the most valuable sub-cultures in the world, and the true players know this.
My passion for climbing has never wavered. It is the only thing in my life that has lasted this long and stayed this pure. Respect.
“I find clarity in my world when I’m fully immersed in climbing.”
The feeling of being outside, moving along different types of rock, and unleashing sequences on personal projects is incomparable. Regardless of any pressures or challenges in my daily life, climbing allows me to focus, clear my head and enjoy the moment. Digging your fingers into a quarter-pad, perfectly sculpted incut crimp, and locking your body weight off on it enhances the “I’m living” effect -– especially when you start to feel your skin split and muscles cramp up from trying so hard. This is what it feels like to be alive – it is natural. Whether I am bouldering, sport climbing, trad climbing, or scaling the side of a building; this is who I am and will always be.
“This is what it feels like to be alive – it is natural.”
My experience – the act, the movement, the ritual, the normality – is my form of prayer, and my deity is everything. Stone – impermanent and energized, yet not living – it is the point of nature I communicate with.
I feel much of who I am relates and connects with ancient humans, as I am relative to them, and existing after they have. That notion guides me to believe that many of the things I do are intuitive and natural, and are defining human actions. When I climb, I am connected to a part of myself that is ancient. The tribes, the fires, the language and primal actions are not relative to current culture. These are the experiences that shape me, though. They are not my societal reflection, or my world image.
I am extremely comfortable with religion, but only relative to my own beliefs. And, for me, those beliefs mean everything. The experience of divinity comes from inside when I am in my environment. Beautiful and free, in my opinion, existing without the need to prove anything is amazing. Climbing, the act itself, is that for me.
“When I climb, I am connected to a part of myself that is ancient.”
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