I have a few confessions to make. I’ve never been to the Red River Gorge. On my only trip to Yosemite, I bouldered for half a day on Midnight Lightning, which I stood no chance of sending, and then left. I’ve never climbed in Rocky Mountain National Park. Actually, now that I think of it, I’ve never even driven around RMNP. I’m a terrible boulderer. I think I just lack that ferocity ever-present in a fair majority of the climbers out there today. Adding up the total price of all the gear I’ve purchased since I started climbing is an embarrassingly high number, and that doesn’t even factor in the gas or car maintenance costs to get to the crag. Comparing those numbers to the money I spend donating to charitable organizations or buying presents for family on Christmas and birthdays makes me look pretty pathetic. I panicked on a 5.8 trad route the other day, sent a 5.12 sport route, and then flailed on a V2. I’m not consistent. I’m content with that, though. Which brings me to my final confession, a pinnacle of gut spillage that I’m truly proud to admit now that I’ve come to terms with it. I really love toproping.

There. I said it. For the longest time, I couldn’t. I really couldn’t. At some point in your climbing career, many of you will find (if you haven’t already) that toproping (especially outdoors) somehow turns into this embarrassing sign of weakness—an admission of sorts that you’re not strong enough to actually lead a route. Plenty of days I spent in misery not climbing at all because I was too proud to toprope lines that I didn’t want to lead. My silent angst mocked by my friends’ willingness to hang ropes for me. A kind gesture, I’m sure, which I just interpreted foolishly as a jab in abs that weren’t strong enough to help me clip the bolts myself.

Eventually though, I lost the ego. First, in a busy gym while I waited with my partner for a lead rope, we TR’ed (as they say) a few choice lines, and I found myself pleased with the fact that I didn’t have to stop on the way up to clip anything. It was like free-soloing, only better, because, well, quite frankly, I wasn’t going to die should I fall. Even better was the fact that I never thought about falling, so I tried harder. Suddenly, I’d find myself at the top of climbs thrutching for holds I would have never thrown for on lead for fear of wild, uncontrolled, painful falls. Soon, I was OK with toproping. Eventually, I did the unthinkable. I tied into the dull end of the rope and made my way to the top of a warm-up route in Rifle in front of a horde of my peers at the Project Wall. For those of you who don’t know, the Project Wall is a terrifying place. You basically belay in the road where the mutant freaks that warm up on 5.12+ congregate to talk about their projects and Avery beer. It’s intimidating for fragile egos like mine. When I got to the top and lowered, I realized that no one seemed to care, let alone notice. Friend and professional climber Joe Kinder, who was there working on his new routes, actually congratulated me on not falling because that route was particularly pumpy. I watched him lead a different warm-up, lower, and immediately toprope the same route I had just TR’ed. Granted, he didn’t stop to rest in between routes, but all the same.

So, as far as confessions go, I guess this isn’t the juiciest. It’s actually probably quite boring… Many of you are probably thinking, “Yeah, of course you like to toprope, idiot. It’s awesome and fun, and the risk is minimal,” and you’re right. The worst thing that happens is your belayer slacks off and isn’t belaying quite quickly enough, and you have to look like a wuss when you ask him to “please remove the fun from the rope.” I guess I just needed to share with you all that I’m learning to let go. I’m going to stop ranking climbing styles on some arbitrary scale of values that really has no basis in reality. Less judging, more climbing. After all, at one time, that was the whole point.

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ADDRESS
ADDRESS 2
CITY
STATE & ZIP
EMAIL (req)