Why We Climb
by Justin Isaac (C) 2009
It is perhaps the most basic of philosophical questions and one that the child learning to speak and think is most adept, if not the master. The traditionalist’s refusal, or remissness, to ask or acknowledge the question is doomed to remain in a form of ignorance, while the skeptic’s love and worship of the question placates himself to a type of ontological purgatory, where nothing can be known and where the basis for everything rests on a desert of shifting sands. The question is of course, “Why?” I’m sure there is a volume of books written by scholars much more suited to answer the profundity of this question than I am, and I am content to remain focused on the pertinent question, “Why do we climb?”
There are a myriad of answers that I believe would assist the questioner to leave the conversation in some state of appeasement. Yet I think, as I often do, that despite the ancillary nature of such answers, it can be boiled down to a several fundamental ideas that I will attempt to unravel here. But before I do that, let’s consider the nature of climbing specifically in all of its manifestations, whether it be rock, ice or mountaineering. I don’t have to tell you that climbing is exactly that, climbing. The goal is to start from the bottom and get to the top. No revelation there. But, when one considers all of the hazards that come with such an activity, the simplicity begins to get lost in a danger-maze that does not allow a logical answer. In fact, I would propose that the answers to the question “Why do we climb” are not logical at all, but more intuitive when seen through the lens of human nature, and human history. We do have a tendency to be illogical at times, maybe even most of the time — and, that is not altogether a bad thing.
To illustrate this point, I had an opportunity to spend 6 weeks in Jordan last summer where I was teaching conversational English in the capital, Amman. During my days off, I would travel and marvel at the ancient history that can be found in that country. One of the most remarkable places I was able to visit was a valley called Wadi Rum in the Southern most region. You may have heard of it, as it is known for its sprawling sandstone walls of red, tan and orange, where there can be found some multi-pitch traditional climbing, and a few bolted routes. It is also one of the places where T.E. Lawrence and the tribal Beduin army camped during their campaign to take Damascus during World War I. During my two day visit, I traveled with Beduin guides by 4X4 across the plains and through the mountains and was able to spend some time conversing with them, mostly in English, but sometimes in what little Arabic I know. Being a climber, I naturally found the ancient walls attractive and asked my guides if anyone would climb there. They did not understand me in English, so I had to translate in Arabic what I was trying to ask. Eventually they understood and simply said “Yes, people come. We watch them as the climb and sometimes they fall. It is very, very dangerous.” When I asked them if they have every climbed up one of the mountains like that, the response was “Why go that way? You can go around the other side and it is easier!” There is no refuting that logic.
My point in telling you the above story is to say that climbing, and many of the recreational activities we enjoy, are largely due to culture in which we have been raised. This is neither a good or bad thing, but simply how it is. Coming from a purely logical standpoint, if one wants to get to the top of a mountain, like Beduin who might be hunting, or trying to find a lost goat or sheep, the best way is the easiest way. And, there are stories of Beduin who have scaled those walls in bare feet at grades upwards of 5.8 to do just that; however, they are not doing it for fun. And it is this that I believe is a fundamental determining factor in why we climb. Either, it is for recreation, or it is for one’s livelihood, work, etc. Again, this is nothing revelatory, I am simply setting the groundwork for the discussion to follow, because “fun” is a relative term. An extension of the question “Why do we climb” is “Why is it fun?” Now we are getting into some muddy waters.
The phrase “different strokes for different folks” comes to mind when considering why someone might find climbing fun. But, when we look at the progeny of the activity, I believe we see individuals who were at their heart rebels and found in climbing an outlet, an activity where they could physically manifest their disdain for the status quo. Climbing became a sort of middle finger, where by engaging in the dirtbag climber lifestyle they could prove that one didn’t have to spend his or her life in a suit, working in an office, in a factory, or otherwise engaged in something that was not of their own choosing, or had no bearing on their ultimate life – that there was another way.
Most of you reading this might already be familiar with the unfortunate passing of John Bachar, one of the few who pioneered the sport and lifestyle of climbing in various ways. I believe we can see in Bachar, and men and women of his ilk, the quintessential rock climber: a person who dedicated his life to the pursuit of mastering the free solo, a pure climbing activity, primal and medieval his realization. The only technology he used was rubber shoes and chalk. The mountains, the granite, sandstone and limestone cliff faces, allowed Bachar and others to paint on an otherwise blank canvas a vision of ultimate liberation from the tech-infected megalopolises, where the electronic circuit promised to make life simpler, but only made it more complicated, and in fact, more inane. Now, I don’t pretend to know the man, I am only making an observation based on my experience within the larger climbing world, and from stories I have read about him. I would argue in light of the forefathers of climbing, though, that there is a bit of rebellion in the activity because of its inherently dangerous nature. “You say I can’t do that? That I shouldn’t do that? Well…watch me.” And on we go.
Climbers have always been an independent sort, but in seeking that independence, maybe it could be called liberation, have discovered and formed a separate community and sub-culture where we rely on each other. This is seen in the simple, but life-saving act of belaying, to giving beta when a fellow climber is struggling. I have come to realize that one thing we enjoy more than anything else is the essential realization of nature that rock climbing affords us. That on the wall we discover something about ourselves and about the natural world, that by engaging in the very activity, we are almost admitting our individual smallness in view of the whole of creation and of history. And, that when away from our lives of the cities, sojourning to commune at the crags of the world, we find something that seems to be grossly lacking from our fast-paced lives – that of community. At the crags, we slow down, take in the silence, breathe in and out in deep profound breaths while on the wall, focus and sense the beauty around us, and share the experience with others, our friends and family. Some of whom we meet at these places of congregation.
It might be my proclivities to desire true community that leads me to the above conclusion, but there is no denying that climbing is also an individual pursuit, as much as it is about experiencing the mountains and crags with others. It has been said that climbers are simply narcissists who would rather play for a living than engage in the “real” world. While this may be true for some of us, I would also say that the most altruistic endeavors in this world have contained in their ranks individuals of the most severe narcissistic leanings; thus, such a statement can be generalized to most pursuits of humankind, not just climbing. However, I would like to make the argument here that when one realizes the truth of what is occurring during the upward motion on a slab of stone, mountain or frozen waterfall, there is nothing in that moment that is more real. Rocks are not manufactured by the fires of industry, or the cool, refrigerated clean rooms of sleek corporations engineering the silicone marvels to one day replace the human brain, but cast in the raw, elemental magma that has formed the very foundation of life itself. In a sense, by climbing on boulder, cliff or mountain we are traversing the records that are a testament to the eons. There are two things we can do with this: 1) we can assume that by our ability to traverse such records, we have somehow transcended them and they no longer matter, or 2) we realize that on the canvas of history, we play only a small part, but nonetheless an important part of a work that is always changing for the time that we are alive, and never ceasing to evolve in our absence.
Inasmuch as climbing is an individual pursuit, I would acknowledge that there resides in each person, to varying degrees, the desire or drive to know how much stress one can manage. The novelty of climbing for a beginner soon becomes a fascination in undertaking a physical and mental battle with one’s body and mind to discover who would come out the victor. This battle is a cycle of confidence, doubt, fear (or terror), strength, and weakness. We naturally do not want to feel afraid, or that we can’t do something, so we try to find in our environment something to test us. I have seen scores of new climbers come to enjoy the sport and return to the climbing gym week after week, and with furrowed brows, undertake the physical exertion and push their bodies and minds to whatever threshold they find there. Often, some never return, becoming frustrated with the lack of immediate success, perhaps a result of being conditioned to expect instant gratification in any pursuit – an entire discussion in and of itself – but climbing is an activity where the patient and consistent are ultimately those who are successful. We can see this pattern in the many facets of human behavior, whether it be a student who pushes herself to engage in mental challenges and exercises, or the athlete who finds himself peaking in the arena of combat with his peers, or the soldier who would rather die than to fail in his mission and fail his team, or the climber who undertakes the challenging call of the mountains. Wherever we see it, I believe what we find at the core of such behavior a person who considers the mysterious both enticing and antagonistic. A bit like wondering what is at the end of the proverbial rainbow: you can conjecture all day, but until you start walking, you will never truly know. Some people are ok with not knowing. Others, like us, want to know and it bothers us when we don’t. And so, we climb to discover if we can do it; or, to borrow a colloquialism – if we “have what it takes”.
Climbing, by its very nature, hardens our bodies and our minds. One cannot be a so-called “pansy” and be an effective rock climber. There may be people who struggle with the mental fortitude necessary, and I am certainly one of those people, but in the end, when the moment of truth arrives and you need to call upon all your faculties to stay on the rock, or to not panic in the face of imminent danger, we either find the strength necessary to do so, or we falter and fail. By saying “falter and fail” I do not mean falling. Not in the least. Falling is a natural result of climbing. You will fall, but there is a difference between falling and failing. The person who falls and becomes so frozen with fear that it incapacitates and paralyzes them may walk away and never come back – that person, in my estimation, has failed. They may be strong in other things, a brilliant scientist, artist, or whatever, but they will never be a successful climber. So, it stands to reason that those of us who remain to enjoy the sport are exercising the mental fortitude muscle, to increasingly become stronger, better, and braver. And, perhaps it is a rebellion of sorts against all of the fluff that we encounter in our daily lives, which will never be 100% free from uncertainty, and should be a bit uncomfortable at times. Safety and security, in many ways, are misnomers and are defined only to make us feel good about an otherwise ugly situation. And, I would suggest that this is nowhere as true as in a sport of climbing. It’s almost like going into war with a bullet proof vest and thinking you are safe. It is an inherently dangerous activity, and yes, you can sustain injury or die.
I would argue in light of this, that in the absence of danger to our persons, some of us will seek it out. This becomes apparent on a more unconscious level, because I don’t think any of us are saying “That looks exceedingly dangerous and life-threatening, let’s go do it!” – ok, well maybe some. But, there is something to be said about taking part in an activity that has obvious risks. Climbers are the type of people who are not content with playing it safe, and this is another important point to the “Why” question. Why do entrepreneurs risk going into gross debt for a business venture, why do some men dedicate themselves to the protection of their nation at the expense of their personal lives, why do astronauts willingly strap themselves to a rocket and calmly walk into the void of space, and why in the hell to climbers climb mountains? I believe it is because the alternative is a life spent always wondering what could have been, and we know that without risk there is no great reward. Sure, we can play it safe, but the result is a stagnate existence always spent spectating and never taking part. Who wants to be a critic when you can get in the ring and engage in the first person (ever wonder why those types of video games are so popular)? There is a time and place for pontification and philosophizing, like when you are writing an article about why we climb, but in the end, there is nothing quite like doing.
Although there are those who seek out activities such as climbing due to self-love and who desire adulation from their peers for being so unique – and I could comment on that, but for lack of time will save it for later – I believe that these encapsulate some of the fundamental reasons why we enjoy the very special activity of moving up on a rock, ice or mountain face. There is nothing quite like the liberation it affords us, the community with whom we share the experience, the benefits we gain from it by growing a strong mind and body, and the knowing of what we have accomplished. I for one will continue to seek out the climbing opportunities as long as my mind and body are able and I hope that you do too.
…stubborn and stupid more like it.
