Why Climb?

My dad wishes I didn't climb. For one thing, he’s afraid of heights; so much so that walking three flights up a fire tower makes him nauseous, so scaling cliffs seems unfathomably frightening. For another, he’s never tried it, not even in a gym. He doesn’t understand the melding of strength, balance and focus required to send a route. He only knows that some people climb without ropes and some of them die, and some other people who do climb with ropes die too. For him, climbing is an unnecessary risk taken to get to the top of something via the most difficult route; utter senselessness.

Walking through Pawtuckaway State Park last fall. Photo by Sarah Kremer.

My dad and stepmom asked me recently if I though climbing was “just a phase” in my life, like when all I eat for breakfast is Honey Almond Kashi cereal for a month and then switch to only eating eggs and toast for breakfast the next.

I explained that climbing is not in fact “just a phase,” and I’ll probably have gear on my Christmas wish lists for many years to come. They then asked why I like it so much. That was a stumper.

How does one explain to someone who has never climbed the feeling of pulling oneself up a cliff? Or a boulder? Or even just the difference between trad climbing, sport climbing and toproping without the other person beginning to daydream?

The question did get me thinking about why I climb, especially since they were both staring at me expecting a quick, well-reasoned answer. It’s certainly not just for the exercise; there are much less stressful ways to tone your arms than leading a run-out 5.11. It’s not for an adrenaline rush either—the most common reason non-climbers think the rest of us climb—that means I’m doing something wrong or am overly frightened. I try to avoid both.

Sometimes I want to unlock the puzzle of onsighting a route, discovering the best holds and working out the easiest line up a section of rock. Other times, I need the focus required for leading at my limit; I cannot worry about finding six sources for my next article for class if I’m trying to not fall off a cliff. There are also times when I just want to have fun, chatting my way up easy routes or toproping routes I probably could lead, but will appreciate more without fear of falling preventing me from enjoying the movement on my first time up. Other days I don’t feel like pulling on plastic in the gym, but I still top out a few boulder problems because I want to get stronger and smoother for my next time outside.

For me, the best parts of climbing are the focus required to send, the movement on the rock and the climbing community. Realizing I’ve thought of nothing but moving from one hold to another from the time I left the ground to clipping the chains is the closest to meditating I’ve gotten; I return to the ground balanced, more relaxed and, occasionally, excited. As for movement, who doesn’t love the feeling of jumping to a jug and sticking, back arching and legs flinging backward to hold the swing? Or the magical moment when you hit a crimp, begin to barn-door and then remain on the wall, surprising yourself? And then there's the climbing community: the most friendly, accepting individuals I know. Despite often being the least experienced climber in the group, no one has ever said, “No Liz, I’d really rather you didn’t come and struggle on my warm-up,” or “No, I don’t feel like letting you toprope the route I just sent.”

Climbing is a mental and physical challenge. You need to figure out the moves, remembering the correct hand and foot sequences and how to twist your body between them to minimize energy expenditure to link them perfectly and send. You must fight your fear of falling, pushing the idea out of your mind so you can fully commit to each move. You have to maintain good form and smooth movement even when you’re exhausted. But you get to celebrate, or at least feel some sense of accomplishment, each time you clip the chains or stand on top of a boulder.

So why do I climb rocks? It’s a lot of things, a different reason every time I go out, and probably many more reasons that I’ve yet to realize. But what I do know is: not rock climbing isn’t an option.

Summer Climbing Trip Essentials

Shoes, chalk bag, harness, ATC, I go over the essentials in my head. Food, check; water, check; melatonin…shoot it’s still on my nightstand; I throw it into my bag.

“I’m sure I’m forgetting something,” are my favorite parting words when embarking on any climbing trip. However, there are a few things you should always bring (in addition to your climbing gear, tape, food, water, caffeinated substances of choice, etc.) on your summer climbing trips.

SEVEN ITEMS TO NEVER FORGET:

WET WIPES:

If you’re camping for several days and won’t have a chance to shower, a package of these is key. Think of wet wipes as an easier version of a sponge bath combined with everything good about—and several things better than—hand sanitizer. Dirty hands? Wipe them off; unlike just using hand sanitizer, some of the dirt and chalk caked on your palms will be removed—wet wipes also smell better. To avoid ending your trip with the skin of a greasy adolescent, wash your face every night with them. Wipe your smelly feet and armpits (and anywhere else particularly smelly/sweaty/gross) while you're at it too; your tent partner will thank you.

YOUR PUFFY (AKA YOUR DOWN JACKET):

You might be thinking: “But the title says ‘Summer Trip Essentials.’” Yes it does. And a puffy is one of them. Space on any trip is precious, and why waste it bringing three light jackets when one puffy, which likely packs smaller than even one of your soft-shells, will be just as warm? Worried about being too warm in your puffy if it’s only 50 degrees? There’s a magic temperature regulator on your jacket called a zipper: if it’s chilly zip it up to your neck; if it’s just slightly uncomfortable to belay in your t-shirt then leave it unzipped; use your own zipper judgment for temperatures in between. What if it’s warm the whole trip? Your puffy can double as a packable down pillow.

A CAR AIR FRESHENER: 

Climbing gear, unless purchased in the past week, smells. You probably don’t wear socks in your climbing shoes and pack roughly two outfits for your 10-day trip, meaning all of your gear will reek of sweat and feet in four days or less. It may even rain during your adventure, adding a musty odor to the mix. Your car will smell like this foul combination if you do not invest in an air freshener. Think you can get by without one? Now think about how bad it will smell when you open your car at the end of a hot, sunny day and the 100-degree air from inside hits you with the stench of drying feet and moldy tent.

FLIP-FLOPS:

At the end of a long climbing day, the last thing you want is to imprison your feet in yet another pair of shoes. Bring a pair of flip-flops—or whatever your go-to sandals are—to wear around your campsite or while belaying single-pitch routes. If you’re going to Rifle, consider only packing flip-flops for non-climbing-shoe footwear unless you like to warm up on glassy, 5.11s in your approach shoes.

A TOWEL:
According to The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy, a towel “is about the most massively useful thing an interstellar hitch hiker can have.” It is also essential for all summer climbing trips. You’ll likely go swimming at some point along your journey, and, instead of soaking your extra t-shirt to dry off, you should use a towel. Towels are also great for cleaning up spilled beverages, helping to dry rain-soaked tents and sitting on in fields of wildflowers.

BUG SPRAY:

Yes it smells horrible, but itching your way though the night is more horrible. Plus, you’ll smell terrible a few days into the trip anyway. While handy for repelling insects, excessive amounts of bug spray can also be useful in preventing unwanted cuddling from tent-mates—just check to make sure they don’t like the smell before you utilize this tactic.

ICE CREAM:

It comes in convenient individually-wrapped cookie sandwiches. And it’s summer. Enough said.

Now that you know what to pack, get out of your swivel office chair or off your couch or wherever else you might be that’s not a climbing destination (in this case a gym is not considered a climbing destination) and hit the road for as much time as you possibly can.

Beware: The Dangers of Trail Running

Unfortunately we cannot climb every day. There are many limiting factors that contribute to this, including lack of skin, screaming tendons, tired muscles and, once in a while, limited psych. [Read “Rest Day Activities” for more ideas of what to do on your days off.] And then there are the times when you are psyched, have skin and feel strong, but are lacking a belayer or enough pads to protect your project.

Living in Colorado, I’m surrounded by the Rocky Mountains, which are covered in beautiful hiking, biking and trail-running paths switching back and forth up their sides. I can run up to a rock formation resembling a mushroom with a natural throne-like seat on top or snake through fields of wildflowers up to a green lake at the base of Mt. Sopris, and that’s no where near the extent of running available in Carbondale alone. I also work in the same office as Trail Runner Magazine and can get the inside scoop on which trails are dry, brutally uphill 98% of the way and have the best views. This may sound like the perfect rest day activity, but I warn you: Beware of trail running.

Now, you may be wondering: what’s the big deal? So I get to be outside running through fields of wildflowers with a cool mountain breeze blowing at my back and end up at a lake on the few days each week I’m not climbing? That sounds fantastic. And it is, but only if you are cautious to not let the trail-running bug bite you too hard.

Here are a few reasons why you should be cautious of trail running:

1. It’s addicting. You think you’re going to die on your first two-mile round-trip jog. You stop to “stretch” seven times. Two weeks and five more two-mile jogs later, you only stop to stretch twice, actually look at the views around you and begin to enjoy the experience. Then you want more. Within a few months you’re running 10-mile days when you’re not climbing or going for a “quick” six-mile hill workout before you hit up the crag. Don’t do it! Unless you’re superman, training for a marathon—or more likely an ultra—isn’t going to help you send 5.13. It’s going to make you very tired and sweaty at the crag. So go ahead, go for those two-mile jogs. Go for a four-mile run if you want, but, if you really love climbing, don’t train for a marathon-plus while trying to send your project.
2. It takes a lot of time. If you do become hooked on trail running, as explained above in number one, you’ll suddenly have much less time to climb. Rest-day runs are great, but losing three hours of your Saturday morning to a 23-miler eats up time you could be spending getting those extra pitches in.
3. It’s expensive. No, you don’t have to go out and buy seven matching Nike outfits to begin trail running or try out three different hydration belts, but you will have to buy sneakers more often, and, more than that, you’ll spend way more on groceries. Think about how many calories it takes to run for an hour, or two, or four. You cannot just replace that calorie deficit with a few packages of Ramen noodles or a discount box of Oreos. You need to eat good, whole (aka. expensive) foods beyond rice and beans to recover enough to climb—and run—again. Soon you’ll be buying those little power gels that are essentially fruit gummies with more intense packaging for three times the cost. If you’re a dirtbag, you probably cannot afford that type of grocery bill.
4. You could hurt yourself. Trail running might seem pretty tame compared to hanging off a cliff, but risk is still involved. On my last trail run I slid down a hill on some loose rocks while passing a group of hikers. My knee—see photo below—should have had stiches, as the doctor I saw the day after told me, and my foot was too swollen and bruised to wear climbing shoes, which lead to me missing a full day at the crag. Yes, I’m not as coordinated as the average person, but most climbers I’ve met aren’t exactly hand-eye or foot-eye coordinated people either. There’s a reason we climb instead of playing soccer or tennis.

Now, I’m not saying don’t ever go for a trail run. It would be sad to miss out on running through fields of wildflowers to reach green lakes at the bottom of snow-covered mountains. However, know the addictive power of trail running before you set out on your rest-day jog, and remember how much you love clipping the chains before you’re tempted to devoting your days off to 50Ks. Also, watch your footing, small rocks on the ground can be more treacherous that you think.

My knee post trail-running digger.

Climbing Cookies

Alex Honnold fuels his free-solos with cookies—his favorite are chocolate chip—and he crushes everything from 290 pitches on his birthday to biking hundreds of miles to climb all of California’s 14,000-footers.  Therefore, you might consider switching up your climbing fuel from Clif Bars and Honey Stinger Waffles to some homemade cookies.

Why? Well for one, you’ll be one step closer to being Alex Honnold, and you’ll also save money—one chocolate chip Clif bar offers only 240 calories and cost $1.25 when bought in bulk. Also, why eat a gelatinous chocolate-chip-flavored hunk of organic brown rice syrup, soy products and rolled oats when you can just eat a chocolate chip cookie?

Here is my recipe for Climbing Cookies, adapted from several no-bake cookie recipes. They’re simple to cook (can be made on a camp stove), inexpensive and are slightly “healthier” than your traditional chocolate no-bake or chocolate chip cookies:

INGREDIENTS:

½ cup unsweetened applesauce
1 cup maple syrup (add an extra ¼ to ½ cup for sugar-lovers)
½ cup milk
Pinch of salt
½ cup nut butter (almond butter is delicious, peanut butter is yummy and less expensive, sun butter could be good too)
2 teaspoons vanilla extract
3 cups quick-cooking or whole oats (use quick-cooking for a smoother texture)

Optional: add one cup of dried fruit (raisins, craisins, whatever sounds good with your nut butter of choice), chocolate chips (for extra Honnold yumminess), your favorite nuts or seeds, or a combo of the above!

Note: Feel free to experiment with additional ingredients, such as adding ½ cup of shredded carrots, shaved coconut or dried edamame (great plant-protein!) to your cookies for added nutrition and to keep things interesting.

DIRECTIONS:

1. Combine applesauce, maple syrup, milk and salt in a medium saucepan. Bring the mixture to a boil for one minute then remove from heat.
2. Stir in nut butter and vanilla until smooth. Then stir in oats until completely coated.
3. Drop mixture by the spoonful (about 2-3 tablespoons at a time) onto parchment-lined baking sheets and allow to cool until firm. Your cookies will last for up to two weeks in the refrigerator should you have that much self control. 

Yields: Approximately 2 dozen cookies.

Why are these cookies good crag fuel? They combine healthy fats, protein, complex carbs and simple sugars to keep you fueled and recovering between climbs. The simple sugars from the maple syrup—which also contains antioxidants and has been shown to aid in immune system health—and apple sauce are easy for your body to break down immediately and will fuel your next climb as well as aid recovery from your previous climb. The protein in the nut butter will also help with recovery, as studies have shown that adding protein to your recovery carbs (often in a 4:1 carb to protein ratio) reduces muscle damage by up to 56 percent compared to only eating carbs. The fat and fiber in the nut butter and the fiber in the whole grain oats will help you stay full for longer and power you in the long-term, unlike just eating simple sugars, which your body uses right away. And don’t forget, unlike that ancient, crushed bar in the bottom of your backpack, you’ll actually want to eat these cookies while at the crag!

Climbing cookies are calorie dense and pack small, so you can easily carry a few in your pack—or chalk bag if you’re obsessed with going super light—on multi-pitch days without worrying about extra weight. And in the case that they do get a little squished: Voilà tasty granola!