I Think I Found Clarity

The day I started is really fuzzy. Not because I was drunk or high or because I hit my head, I don't think I was old enough to truly understand any of those feelings at that time. The day is fuzzy because I was four, maybe five years-old.

It was hot and bright. I was excited. I mean, REALLY excited.

Photo Courtesy of my Grandpa, Robert Natz

I can still remember looking up a slab of pink rock at my dad, 25-feet above me, pulling in the rope I was attached to, my grandpa next to him snapping shots as I moved up the rock face. We were at Palisades State Park right next to Garretson, South Dakota, a town of only a few hundred people, maybe.

I was hooked on climbing the day I started.

I remember being hooked. I thought what I was doing was the coolest thing that had ever been done, that nothing could compare to the radness that I was enveloped in. No one was cooler than me and that was that. And to all those who doubted me, I only told them that they couldn't talk, they'd never climbed a rock before. So nah, nah, nah boo boo, stick your head in doo doo... ya big dumb, idiots.

Alton Richardson telling the Big, Dumb Idiots to stick their heads in doo doo. 

Really, what's significant about this day is that it was the beginning of the journey that I am on right now. It's what sparked my passion and curiosity for climbing. I wouldn't be where I am today, I don't think, if it wasn't for that summer day climbing pink rocks in the middle of the prairie, where rock walls are as frequent as whales.

Since I started climbing, my journey hasn't been as fuzzy as that first day. Of course days melt into each other and there are details and even whole days I forget. But significant moments stand out to me and I remember so many of them clear as day. My first lead, my first bad fall, my first, first ascent, my first piece of gear ripping, my first time climbing in the desert... so many firsts. But there is the time when a group of my friends and I spent the day climbing over a granite blob in Lolo Pass, coming up with the dirtiest names we could think for all the possible climbs we wanted to bolt, and the time I watched my friend Bill whip over and over on a piece of gear as he tried to work his way through a slopey crux section on Shoshone Buttress in Blodgett Canyon. Or the scariest, most sobering moment watching my friend Mack take what was probably a 70-foot fall on a new route and walk away with a little whip-lash and a grin.

Mack after successfully bolting that beautiful arete behind him. This was not the time he took a massive whip. 

I could literally go on for days talking about the little moments that made each memory what it is. The feelings, smells, temperature and voices of friends around me. But what is important is that climbing has brought me something that nothing else had before: clarity.


I want to note that I am a scaredy cat in the climbing community. Sometimes, while leading a pitch, my leg moves faster and more frequent than the most modern and strongest sewing machine. I am sure that I could bar-tack any piece of webbing faster and more efficiently with my leg than the most expensive machine!

I get scared.

I am not a brave man.

But I love being scared.

Ben feels the clarity. 

Through the fear of falling, I feel my head clear away of any unnecessary thoughts and patterns. I am engrossed in the moment I am staring at the rock with my puckered, red face, breathing heavily and grunting my way through what many would consider easy moves. But damn! It. Feels. Gooooood. Once I am done and clipped into the chains, anyway.

And really, that's when the clarity comes. My debt, my guilt, my fears disappear into oblivion for just a second, and when I remember that those debts, guilt and fears exist, they all become easier to manage and contemplate. I find ways to move through those issues in the same way I figured out to move through the holds on the rock. Piece by piece, each issue becomes manageable.

I just moved through something that terrified me, so you know what? Fuck it! I climbed that pitch! I am on top of the fucking world!

Holy Shit Balls! That climb felt great...

Life becomes easier to manage after a climb. Guilt is put into perspective, thoughts sorted through and ideas worked out. Relationships become more meaningful and the simple pleasures become more pleasurable.

Shit becomes obvious...

Fuzziness disappears and through moving on rock, upwards past difficulties, I move through my life's difficulties, towards the next goal and a clear state-of-mind.

Julie finishes piecing together "Go Sparky, Go!" 5.11+ .

Sometimes, while tying into the sharp end of the rope, I think about that first day I climbed. I remember the excitement and thrill that I felt as I touched my tiny hand to the pink rock and thought about moving up it. I can't say I always approach each climb with that excitement, and honestly I am often very scared and I immediately feel my heart rate increase by two as soon as my right shoe slides over my heel and my foot sits snug inside its leather and sticky-rubber casing.

But nonetheless, I slide the other shoe on, slide my hands into my chalk bag, clap my hands together,
look at my partner and say, "Ready? Climbing!"

This is the face I often look back on while climbing. Thanks, Ben for being such a damn good partner and friend.