In June 2022, I was asked to write a piece that shared what climbing meant to me, I was in my last year of a political science degree and single-handedly running a business and raising my 15 year old daughter. With school, work, and life taking up most of my time, climbing became a distant world that I no longer felt part of. My “new climbing” was studying how power, ideas, and culture work to sustain our broken economic and political system. This was incredibly interesting and inspiring, yet also intense and heavy on the soul. Maintaining power, at least in my own climbing, seemed so …
Stories: Climbing and Beyond
These posts are a collection of stories and thoughts from our experiences climbing, and living on the road in North America and Europe. From competing in the Boulder World Cups, to exploring the many boulder fields on this planet, all the while, raising Cedar while living our of our Toyota Previa. Many adventures and lessons were had which I hope I conveyed in the words that follow.
Hueco Wreckage
One day turns into two. Then three. We’ll see about four or five. Hell, maybe that five will turn into a week and we will fly away from this place. A vacation from the vacation. It doesn’t feel like a vacation. It feels like stress. A vortex has sucked me in so tightly, making flying away impossible. But if I were a bird, soaring high above with long feathered wings, black sharp eyes, different perspectives, I’d be free. A free bird. A pigeon bird. But first, the decision maker. To hear yes or no, I’ll move my fingers just so; lift my arms above and move the ball of my humerus around and …
Tug of War
He, the language keeper, medicine man and sweat leader, paused at my daughter as she exited the sweat lodge. “Take this tobacco and hold it up to your heart.” Looking towards me, he said, “Your daughter has a heavy heart.” Understanding his words, a piece of me ripped in half. “Yes, it’s the school, two weeks away. She misses it...” The mother, the wanderer, the dreamer. On this short trip of elation made out of necessity for my own survival and wellbeing. A mere taste of what feels right; to heal the heaviness of my own heart. A trip to the desert; a fling with the sun. Back again. …
Our Trip in Prose
Afterwords...buried in unwashed clothesthe desert reminds us of its existencewith a cactus spikelike a thorn in ones sidepoking painful reminders of my absenceprovingit wasn’t a dreamDrying sage fills my vancollected when busyness subsided;Sand witnessed between floor cracks dragged in from days outskin bronzed from living under our sun gifting an extra wrinkleBishopbasking warmth, tired muscleseach cell tinglesgiving reason to be aliveFootprints of our four legged creatures off traildestroying without knowing, unlike usa soiled tampon lays at the base of our first boulderwhat’s happened …
A Squamish Summer
When it finally came, it was one of those summers you didn’t want to end. The days were of the sort that reminded me of childhood; the sun felt strong and the days were so long it seemed the moon would never show itself. It felt as close to normal summer weather as we can get these days; it wasn’t over the top hot and almost daily, the wind blew strong, bringing with it psyched people who came to share the same obsession as myself. For the observer, it wasn’t hard to tell from the crowded parking lots and a quick glance up the Stawamus Chief, that climbing happened daily and lasted long …
Freegan Milk
Based on a true story. Its 2015. We are in Magic Wood, Switzerland. Conor is in Magic Wood too. That’s how we met. Maybe you know him? Conor Houlihan…? It kind of rhymes with hooligan. He was one of a kind. IS one of a kind... As far as I know, he’s alive and well; perhaps walking across Mexico or something of the sort. You see, Conor does those really long walks that cover whole countries sides; the kind that can take weeks, even months to finish. He travels with a back pack smaller than the one I take climbing which is really quite impressive. It doesn’t take long before meeting or …
A taste of Spring
She stood on the green grass about to approach a forest which loomed with spiders, ticks and little critters that had teeth sharper than her kitchen knife. Looking deeper, the light appeared to disappear into the shadows of a thick green foliage. On her back she carried a crash pad; a piece of equipment used for the type of climbing she preferred, bouldering. It used to be part of her everyday attire but it had lain dormant on the shelf of her workplace; thrown on top of the highest shelf in a large room housed with hundreds of odd multicolored plastic holds of various sizes and shapes. It …
Bishop Air
The drive south was blistery and full of detours. The thought that we were approaching the California border seemed unreal. The view from the driver’s seat was that of the opening galaxy scene of Star Wars. Coming straight towards us were thousands of tiny white spots encompassed in a sea of darkness. As a kid, when my dad drove through snowstorms, this same view would mesmerize me. I’d struggle to find focus among the movement of a thousand tiny speckles. As tempting as it was, it took a lot to not drift back into that realm; if my focus didn’t stay on the road I’d end in the ditch alongside …
1 year, 3 weeks & 5 days
As if under a spell, the idea of staying anchored in one place for the duration of an entire year, attached itself to me like a starved leech. It was an idea that wouldn’t budge or compromise; leaving a strong sense of obligation before even starting. That if I didn’t follow through, something dire would happen… That if I left the said vicinity, some horrid curse would be laid down… Maybe it is the slight OCD in me but I followed through. Through thick and thin, the spell, felt curse at times, swallowed and bound me to a land which I both loved and despised. Through two cold and snowy …
Breakthroughs, Part 3
To save the eyes of any weary reader, this will be the last of my series on breakthroughs simply because after this event, there were no breakthroughs, only realizations. For now, I’ll tell you a little story about the competition which took place at the end of January, the BC Provincials. Headed into the crowded zone of qualifiers, my goal was to bring the state of mind needed to do my best: that of relaxation and focus. For the past few years of my competition journey, I knew this was necessary but wasn’t sure of the how, let alone my capability. But in the qualifying round of the …
Cowboys and cowgirls. Breakthroughs. Part Two.
There was a bus that bobbed along the city streets, like a bottle in the ocean. It was crowded and filled with people who seemed to be minding their own affairs. The guy next to me was watching an Instagram video of a young girl dressed in a bikini, blowing kisses to the viewer. Across, a darker woman sat with sad eyes, staring out the window to a distant world. Though like any other, the bus ride felt odd, foreign like. Not foreign as in people speaking different tongues, but foreign because I was sitting on this bus with only one piece of luggage and, no child by my side.I often hear of …
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Breakthroughs. Part One
January was like this… a whirlwind of excitement, adventure, nervousness, and apprehension; emotional turmoil twisted itself into moments of empowerment and disbelief. Eye opening realizations and instants of complete disappointment wrestled with my core beliefs. While ancient hardwiring aimed themselves down pathways of comfort, something followed; challenging and provoking another way, showing other possibilities. It’s like this; you need to do something different to make progress. Usually it is something simple; like relaxing or taking conscious breaths. Yet, when found in a situation …
The Affair
I don't kiss and tell. Nor do I tell the the name of this one being which I will speak of. Mainly out of privacy. Or more so, perhaps I fear superstition. That if I speak to loudly and reveal that before actually sending, a curse may fall upon me (if it hasn't already), and that i will never send or conquer that which already has bound it's spell upon my being. Simply, it's like this: an obsession. Why? Unexplainable. It just is. When I first heard it's name, I wanted to climb this problem. Later, the same reaction transpired when I saw a photo of it. When it came to meeting it in …
Inquiries of a climber
I have an old friend; a fellow climber I’ve been recently reunited with after years apart simply because of the sheer land mass and great seas which divided us. We first meet at the Belfast climbing wall at the university where he studied physics and where I was a mere nomad; exploring the city streets and troubles, learning about photography in the lightest of darkrooms, and simply allowing the beautiful accents to fill my thirsty ears. Not yet a full-fledged climber, my spare time was spent dabbling. Climbing with all its lightness was new to me. Gustau and his beautiful family came to …
Adventures of the Dark Side
You know those moments in your life of such clarity that make you question how you made it as far as you did; those moments that make you feel as if you’ve been living with a sheet over your head. It’s not the sort of spiritual awakening which I refer but more the real, sharp, in your face kind of clarity that unfortunately is called… reality. Reality… we have met before. For reasons within my own nature I often let you pass and continue on my way. Nothing is going to prove me wrong, especially you. Nothing will stand in my way, especially you. In fact, I kind of hate you. Life is too short …
the insides of a mind
Terry McColl photo My mind steps in offering words of facts and mediocrity which in no way convey what I want to say. The only thing I care to write about is the very thing which helped, yet it is that very thing which seems to have no words. It conveys an overall sense of complete emptiness yet completely void of any loneliness. Coupled with contentment and ease, it gave a glimpse of what was possible, offering a taste of what could be. It may seem like confusing talk, though to me it is quite clear though not concrete. The only way I would allow myself to go to the Toronto …
Puzzles in action
I like puzzles. Logic puzzles, crossword puzzles, 2000 piece jigsaw puzzles… But most especially, climbing puzzles… Bouldering has always intrigued and stimulated me because of the difficulties of solving these puzzles. It seems impossible, to promising, to doable. It’s like working on a physical puzzle between only you and the rock. Then there are competitions. They too are a puzzle. I find them interesting as well; to the point that I haven’t been on rock much because I want to get better at figuring out this puzzle. But it isn’t so much the physical side that confuses me. Nowadays I …
Changes in Perspective
It was winter, 2005. The air was cold, yet the sky a bright shade of blue. I was temporarily roaming the land of Spain, almost as a detour until the time came to go where my heart ached and yearned. But one must be patient. When the heart longs to be anywhere but 'here', things often seem worse off than they really are. It wasn't that Spain was a hellish, torturous place to be. In fact, the company I kept was that of Raul and his Spanish accomplices who varied in many flavors of character and entertainment. We toured the classics in his home country and drove on many a winding road …
Commitment, sabotage and the temptations of Spain
The Spanish landscape reminded me of the long drives I’d taken in the southern states. The ground was dry and the air, fresh and crisp; it was akin to stepping into summer. The warm air filled the spot in me that had been longing to roam the Hueco Desert. The sun, it infiltrated me so deeply, I melted. This was pure enjoyment. My pre-coming wavering had been in vain. We were around a delightful combination of old friends and Sarrasonna rock. My body felt light and strong; movements came easily, relaxed and without thinking. It was back to basics; simple, pure and innocent. There were no …
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A brief stop in Valais
Upon finishing work the realization had set in that my organizational skills had somehow skipped, or rather, avoided the ‘what to do next’ plan. This filled me with such anguish that almost out of need for security I opted for the well-known path to Magic Wood. It was a solace for my ears to hear the sound of the singing river. The winter cold cleansed my spirit and restarted my battery. The feeling that I had finished work was finally sinking in. The open road was mine.The Wood was magical as always. The sun showed itself for a couple hours in the early afternoon before tucking itself away …