Once upon a time I was a fully dedicated climber, road-tripping weeks and even months out of the year to destinations around the country for the purpose of touching rocks with friends. These days it is still important to me, though it has been rightfully placed a bit down the priority list—somewhat below Family and Marriage and Career for example.
It is no exaggeration to say the physical and social nature of climbing shaped my personality and the course of my life. Way back when I left home for college and found myself grasping for a way to re-define my place in the world, climbing was the first bit of brick with which I laid a new foundation of self. It provided raw material for the emotionally independent and self-sufficient character traits that I craved. It gave me a tribe. A large tribe of supportive and loving friends, all of whom I quite literally trusted with my life and vice-versa. On a regular basis I would “catch” my friends while belaying; it’s a constant (albeit contrived) process of saving someone’s life, and letting them save yours in turn.
To be perfectly honest, the physical activity of climbing was always secondary to the social aspect for me. It took me years to realize this (or, perhaps, to admit this to myself). I enjoy climbing, but I love the community. I love meeting up with friends to camp in distant corners of the country. I love drinking and laughing around the campfire. I feel a trust in fellow climbers that develops more easily, rapidly, and instinctively than other areas of life.
There exists an ideal combination of competition and camaraderie when climbing with friends. When I’m up climbing a new route, I feel a strong competitive drive to send it first. But every time a friend takes a turn and is up there giving it a go, I feel a strong support for them to send it, then and there, even if it is first, even if it means I “lose”. The competition/camaraderie is balanced; it drives me to climb harder and to excel, but moments later subsumes my own desires well below a stronger concern and support for my peers. The magical thing, for me, is that the shared attitude of support in the climbing community extends beyond the act of climbing itself, to apply to other, external social interactions. The dichotomy of motivation and competition, combined with unconditional support and loyalty, becomes a template for what friendship should be.
I imagine this phenomenon is not exclusive to climbing; many develop their closest friendships through various shared activities that may involve challenges or obstacles surmounted through teamwork. However, perhaps climbing achieves it a bit more literally or obviously. We travel deep into the outdoors on our trips, sometimes far from the safety net offered by the rest of humanity (both emotionally and physical safety net). We then place ourselves in positions of vulnerability, where our life depends on our partners catching us when we fall from the wall. We expose other kinds of vulnerability through the deep and fully honest conversations around the campfire and during long drives, for all to see, and we trust that we will be accepted. We compete, physically and socially, in an environment that has our best interests at heart.
That’s how I feel about it, anyway. Surely, not everyone experiences this from climbing, but I like to think that it is common.
I hope so, because I would like my boys to eventually derive the same benefits from climbing. I don’t want to force them to it (which never works), but I want to give them the option to discover the advantages as I did. Even better, I would like to share that feeling with them, father and sons. I would like it to be a bond, and to develop that sort of camaraderie and trust. I want them to increase their confidence, to feel strong, to be proud of their skill. I want them to make friends, and encourage them. I want them to feel the empathy that comes from wishing for their friends to succeed on the wall.
To that end, I have been taking the boys climbing intermittently, inside and out, for a few years now. Some stretches we go every weekend for a month straight, other stretches we go for months without getting out.
The local climbing gym has been wonderful for this purpose. I have been climbing at the Santa Fe gym for two decades, back when it was a small little cave-like place in a corner between St Francis and Cerrillos. A few years ago they build a brand-new place, and it is considerably more kid-friendly. The new gym (aka the Santa Fe Climbing Center) has a dedicated beginner bouldering wall (no ropes required), complete with a slide for descending (see the video at the top). Kids can ascend the roped section with auto-belayers, so that parents need not even know how to belay. My boys spend 90% of the time on the bouldering sections, without even donning the harness. The lack of ropes associated with bouldering lets them be independent, allowing them to come and go at will, without being literally tied down to a spot. Not to mention that Bodie still has issues with heights, despite our years of climbing (goes to show that kids with a fear of heights can still enjoy the gym).
One caveat: they recently changed the rules so that the minimum age is 5. This is a bummer, because Emerson is always really sad that can’t join his brothers (still have two more years!). It breaks my heart to see him feel so left out, especially when he’s so excited to get climbing. We’ll get him outside when the weather warms up, and try to make up for it.
Get Directions
After the gym, we always go out to lunch, almost always to Il Vicino for pizza and tiramisu. It’s a tradition now, every bit as important to the overall experience as the climbing itself. They always get the same pizza and drink, and we even sit at the same table. Between the car ride and the lunch, there’s plenty of time for deeper conversational fare if they or I have something on our minds. It has developed into a special time for them and for me.
Finally, for your information, on Sundays the gym offers a family discount from 10am to 2pm, so I only have to pay $10 each for Bodie and Jasper (we have our own equipment and I don’t climb on our Sunday sessions, just belay and coach). If you want to try it out, that’s a good time to do it, and maybe we’ll see you there!
