A short reflection

It's a busy weekend for me, but I've always got time to blog. I'll warn you, I'm in a wordy mood.

As I sit here on a Friday evening, unpacking my gear from a two-day training event with work on the hills and packing gear afresh for a 6am wake up to head back to Froggatt in the morning, a thought that has been plaguing me sneaks back into my head: "what makes me do this?"

Now don't worry; I'm not about to jack it all in, but it is an interesting question - why do I put myself through early wake ups, 40 hour weeks in a retail job that to be honest I'm not crazy about, punishing physical training, letting my other commitments fall by the wayside for a sport I only took up eight months ago? I mean, we all get that I do it because I enjoy it and it's fun, but what exactly is it that makes it fun? What makes climbing special?

On Wednesday I posed this question to Charlie, and in his normal way he came up with something succinct and witty; "I love the fact it's outdoors, it's freeing, it's a challenge and it's out of the ordinary." and to be honest that pretty much sums it up for me. It's not just the climbing, it's the periphery too; the build up, the fact it's an event to get to a rock face, the camaraderie, the friendship, the socialised elements of the whole affair. I will never understand people who wish to climb walls and mountains alone because I am a social animal; I do the sport because it's a team sport. It requires people to learn and work together to achieve goals, lean on each other's strengths and reinforce each other's weaknesses.

In most of his work, but specifically his book Dark Shadows Falling, Joe Simpson refers to an 'apprenticeship in the hills'. For me this is exactly why I climb. It's a challenging pursuit; you can't just pick up a harness and be good, unless you're one of the lucky few who have that unnatural knack for rock. It takes time, patience, practice and a lot of training to be a good climber. It requires specialist equipment by the bucket load (which feeds my unnatural gear fetish) and is formed of a small, tightly knit clique of people with a strong sense of ethics and community. Some of you may know my background is Armed Forces; to a large extent the climbing community is much like the Army. If you don't know, it's hard to pretend and be believed by someone who does. Those who are serving or have served their apprenticeship on the hills know their place and their role, and the pecking order is unbreakable. Cheating isn't something that's really a problem; kudos is earned by doing it right, not doing it easy.

I'm only at the very start of my apprenticeship; there is still so, so much more for me to learn about. The ability to judge weather conditions and their application on climbing, the ability to know when to retreat and when to press on, to learn about snow, ice, mountains and summit pushes. Some people never finish their apprenticeships, always remaining in a learning stage. I can honestly say that if I was to never pass it, I'd be happy to learn my entire climbing career. I mean sure I'd like to be at the cutting edge, but this is real life. I want to do things because I enjoy them. No seven-summit peak bagging for me, no races to solo up the north face of the eiger. I want to do this because it's fun, and I want it to stay that way.

It is this that endears me so much to climbing; the fact it's special. The people who do it are a special, unique clique. The equipment is special. The experience of being halfway up a rock face, a rope below you, nothing but sky above and your own skill and technique being the only thing keeping you in one piece. It makes you feel alive; for me, I feel like I belong. It's worth the early wake ups, the missed nights out for this life. It's the feeling that as Simpson explains, turns a terrifying experience into a fun one in our memories; what, when following a difficult climb and a friend suggests another, prevents you running from the bar screaming bloody mary.

People may not necessarily understand this; I don't ask them to. Many people have and always will directly question why I want to do something like this; hopefully I can point them to this little article and it will go a little way to explain why I do something that I personally fully regard to be totally insane. No sane, logical person would look at a snow covered mountain face or smooth gritstone slab and go 'hey, that looks like fun'. More than likely they'd turn around, walk the other way until they hit the nearest pub.

I'll see you all soon; Froggatt beckons tomorrow. First leads. Should be fun.