Lead Climbing and the Transcendent Value of Disappointment

Why do we fall? So we can learn to-

Fall better

I’ve been concerned with climbing since birth, though not as a formal practice per se. Trees, pop machines, more trees, those were the subjects of my climbing. I often use growing up in the Midwest as an excuse for not cultivating a hobby that wasn’t that far out of reach, given the development of modern climbing gyms.

Things changed last winter when a friend invited us to go bouldering, and we immediately connected with it. The unusual geometry, the lack of people wearing shoes, and the densely padded mats created the effect of an adult playground. And a regular playground, depending on who shows up and how they behave.

For a while, the ceiling was the limit and we were content to bust out shorter climbs. Until that fateful day when we got a text from a friend: (greatly paraphrasing here)

You guys wanna go climbing outside this weekend?

We stared wide-eyed at the message. Outside? You want to take us climbing outside? Within the walls of a climbing gym the word “outside” is imbued with an almost mythical reverence.

You guys went climbing outside last weekend?

This is odd given that if you put in the time, effort, and (let’s face it) funds, anyone can get out there on a real rock. Still, the prospect of climbing outside on ropes seemed like a quantum leap since we also didn’t have the gear or know-how. Luckily, this was probably our friend’s 3rd or 4th rodeo and he lent us the necessary gear.

I’ve always enjoyed climbing on rocks but after a certain height instinct kicks in and it’s time to gently get back down. This wasn't the case at the crag; instead of stopping you just kept going up. The transition felt organic, and I took to the rock like some kind of cheap analogy. Admittedly my first climb wasn’t a particularly grueling grade, but I flashed it nonetheless.

And that was that.

Gone(mostly) were the days of lounging around on the mats at the bouldering gym. It was time to level up and learn how to belay and deeply ponder safety while climbing with ropes and all the other fun considerations.

In our experience, the local bouldering gym is the frat house and the rope gym is the professor’s study. We began to visit this gym regularly and took classes in hopes that we would catch up to the likes of those we’d first climbed with(nobody wants to be a belay bum for too long) For those unfamiliar, (honestly skip this segment if you’re familiar) in climbing gyms you can:

— Boulder (the climber solves various “problems” while free climbing at limited heights)

— Use auto belays (the climber clips into a device that’s essentially a winch attached to the ceiling that will gradually lower them if they fall)

— Top rope (the climber ties into a rope that runs through an anchor already on top of the wall and proceeds upwards without a risk of significant falls, provided that the belayer is doing their job)

— Lead climb(the climber ties into the rope on the ground and free climbs while clipping the rope through protection called quick draws hung on permanent bolts and finishes by creating a top rope, also provided that the belayer is doing their job)

After advancing fairly quickly on top rope, the process of learning lead climbing practically reset the established grades. The mental cushion of top rope is replaced by a greater awareness of falling and its consequences (in regards to both safety and progress) Oddly, in a gym setting falling is encouraged. This allows the climber to acclimate to the feeling while also developing crucial reflexes. The best approach to getting better at falling is by falling more. Our friend likes to say:

If you’re not falling, you’re not trying hard

And I couldn’t agree more. For a while I found myself only going after the more chill grades and enjoying the cruise (obviously nothing wrong with this approach from time to time either) rather than pushing into the tougher grades to avoid falling. Falling is often equated to failing, and obviously you don’t necessarily want to fall while climbing, as that isn’t exactly the point per se… but it’s vital to be okay with it, at the very least.

Time passed, and with the newfound experience and gear I was ready to return to the crag and lead climb the very route that I so humbly began on. Surely, this act would close a metaphysical causality “loop” that I had unwittingly set into motion. I had imagined that the completion of this climb would be “deeply spiritual.” Maybe there would even be some kind of award involved. Obviously, people climb for varying reasons.

After meandering up winding forest roads, I arrived at the crag to find the imposing rock staring back at me, challenging me to climb. What followed was an almost comically mundane climb. It definitely wasn't a clean “send,” and once at the top the clouds didn’t part and an ethereal figure didn’t congratulate me for anything. Even worse, there wasn’t anyone readily available to take a photo (a running gag, I seem to only get really great photos while belaying rather than climbing as you’ll see above) The climb was nerve-racking, cold, and quite honestly not fun in my mind, given my poor performance. I often paused to warm my hands and think about what I’d so willingly gotten myself into. At the top I took a few moments to breathe and take in my surroundings and then placed the anchor before being slowly lowered back to earth.

The “deeply spiritual” climb was a total bust.

For a little bit, I allowed the faultfinder in myself to win, to spoil a moment in time that, although not exactly “perfect” was still a worthwhile accomplishment. Hell, I had just been lowered off an anchor that I built only days before and it hadn’t failed(obviously I put in my due diligence and research and had other eyes on it before putting it to use) In just a few months I’d spent hours climbing, learning new techniques and safety practices, and collecting gear in the pursuit of reaching greater heights(very literally on that one) and had essentially done that very thing, in spite of the actual moment not living up to.

An unexpected beginning to the journey of climbing gradually lead to a deeply gratifying practice that isn’t shaped as you see fit, something I may have touched upon previously. Instead, it’s about allowing yourself to be shaped by the instances (however often) when climbing doesn’t go as planned, even when you feel prepared. Sometimes you simply have to take a fall(literally and figuratively) and unravel what the initial disappointment can teach you. Trying again is always an option.

You can’t chase your expectations around on the ground, and even more foolish, you certainly can’t chase your expectations up a rock. They’re bound to have a head start and escape even faster that way.

Disclaimer: I think bouldering in comparison to sport climbing is a perfectly legitimate pursuit and isn’t invalidated by the lack of danger, equipment, or gear involved. These days I’m just not as concerned with it.