Well, the beer run was the longest of my life, a full two hours there and back. I remember the twists and turns at that one hairpin curve, and how after that point, it was a different world\u2014no longer just cows, deer, sagebrush, and juniper trees. There were crimson walls of glory with the most unforgiving crack climbs you\u2019ve ever seen.<\/p>\n
I recall camping at the lower Bridger Jack campsites, sites that are now closed off. I recall the older climbers talking of bigger objectives, and mostly, I recall a statement that one of them made about forgetting what month it was. There was a kind of brilliant, beautiful absentmindedness to this lifestyle. I remember how they would use their old juice bottles as their water bottles. I remember when the trip was coming to an end, all they would talk about was when they would return. They all lived up in Laramie, Wyoming, and it seemed crazy that they would drive two states away just to climb some cracks. But I didn\u2019t know then what I know now.<\/p>\n
Five years and a bachelor\u2019s degree later, I was starting to get it. In fact, it was all I got. So, I was on the road and living in my brand-new tent in that same Bridger Jack campground where I\u2019d seen the preview of my life unfold, even if I didn\u2019t realize it at the time, which of course we rarely do.<\/p>\n
I was off the cigarettes and off those delusional thoughts of suicide and turmoil. I was tuning in to the belief that life had something to really offer, but I\u2019d still hadn\u2019t found the balance yet. I was climbing with random people when my buddies weren\u2019t around, but most of the time, I did have friends around. The climbing life isn\u2019t much without good friends. The random encounters can lead to lifelong friendships, but they can also expose the risk, danger, and vulnerability that is climbing, and ultimately, the lack of control we have in putting our lives in someone else\u2019s hands.<\/p>\n
So it was my friends, Dave and Tim, that laughed their asses off when we came back to camp one day to find that my tent had been destroyed, some of my carrots in the cooler had been eaten, and several beers were crushed and drank.<\/p>\n
My heart sank when I saw the sight. My brand-new tent, trampled and crushed to oblivion and the contents of the cooler spilled out into what appeared to me was an act of vandalism. I looked around to find the culprit. Then, I looked to the ground and saw hoof prints. Horses. It was horses.<\/p>\n
Dave had an extra tent that he\u2019d scored as booty on Denali the previous year. It was known as the Shit Tent. A client had had some unfortunate bowel occurrences in the tent and left it behind. Dave, being a proper dirtbag, rescued the tent, cleaned it out, and had it as a backup for a situation like this.<\/p>\n
Living in the Shit Tent. No wonder I wasn\u2019t getting any action during this era. Can you imagine? \u201cWell, would you like to come back to my Shit Tent?\u201d Doesn\u2019t exactly flow off the tongue, does it?<\/p>\n
The desert can build your spirit up and knock it down. And then, when you\u2019re down, it might kick you, as the horses kicked over my cooler and drank my beer. At least there was still beer. And there were still friends. And campfires and stars. The lonely life of a climber living in nature still always has its companions, even if it\u2019s just rocks, on the ground and in the sky. This whole planet is just a rock anyways, right? Is it an illusion that we aren\u2019t always alone?<\/p>\n
In the morning, you\u2019re supposed to be excited to climb these cracks again, right? Like that\u2019s what you\u2019re living for, right? That\u2019s what living the dream is? That\u2019s what you dreamed about in Outdoor Recreation class when you stared at the teacher and four walls, just waiting to get outside and hit the open road.<\/p>\n
Climbing a crack like it\u2019s your job becomes a very hard job. These cracks make you feel pain, and they make you bleed, especially if you refused to use tape, as many of us did in those early, stubborn years. \u201cTape is cheating\u2026tape is aid.\u201d<\/p>\n
An ideal experience of climbing a crack in the Creek means you gave everything you had, and you were scared and in pain, and when you got to the chains, you\u2019d completed an epic battle; at the top, there would be endorphins flowing through your body, and you\u2019d breathe that fresh desert air, and when you lowered back to the ground, your team would be there to congratulate you on your go, your mojo.<\/p>\n
Take the passion out of that equation, and it\u2019s a grim picture. When you don\u2019t have the strength to do what you\u2019ve been doing nonstop for the last month. When that desert sun feels like it\u2019s beating down on your soul and you\u2019re past the point of recovery and you only need a rest day or two, you are burnout, my friend.<\/p>\n
That\u2019s when it\u2019s time to leave. It was hard to accept then because I was never looking beyond the climbing day. What would I do for the summer? I guess I\u2019d go back to that same dishwashing job in Crested Butte and live in a tent again. New tent for sure. I\u2019d get a new tent.<\/p>\n
Did I really want to work hard and live in a tent, just to come back to this desert and live in a tent? This is what they called \u201cliving the dream,\u201d huh? Was I missing something? Why wasn\u2019t the desert beautiful and inviting again, like when I arrived? When did the desert become so inhospitable? I would have spit at it had I not been cottonmouthed and burned. Once, the rocks were comforting and inviting, and now all I saw were the sharp thorns of cactuses and horses out to get me.<\/p>\n
I would describe the sight in my rearview mirror that hot late-spring day when I left, but I doubt I looked. The only thing in the world that I knew was that I wanted out of the desert, out of that Shit Tent, and back into the mountains, where there were flowers and girls and mountain streams that I could bathe in and sage I could smell deeply and all sorts of other nature comforts that the desert was no longer delivering.<\/p>\n
Luke Mehall<\/a> is the publisher of The Climbing Zine. Graduating From College Me, A Dirtbag Climber Grows Up, was published last fall, and is available in print and on Kindle.\u00a0<\/a><\/strong><\/em><\/p>\n Please consider subscribing to The Climbing Zine<\/a>. It’s $36.99 for two years (five issues)<\/a>, and this greatly helps us produce free web content like this.\u00a0<\/strong><\/p>\n We have also published four books: Graduating From College Me<\/a>,\u00a0American Climber<\/a>,\u00a0The Great American Dirtbags<\/a>\u00a0and\u00a0Climbing Out of Bed<\/a>, written by publisher, Luke Mehall.\u00a0<\/em><\/strong><\/p>\n![\"\"](\"https:\/\/climbingzine.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2017\/04\/Zine-Volume-10-Raw-Preview-1.jpg\")
About us:\u00a0The Climbing Zine<\/a>\u00a0was started in 2010 by\u00a0Al Smith III<\/a>\u00a0and\u00a0Luke Mehall<\/a>. It continues to the day with the mission of representing the true essence of climbing. Our crown jewel is our\u00a0printed version<\/a>, but we also do the\u00a0interweb thing<\/a>, and\u00a0Kindle<\/a>.\u00a0<\/em><\/strong><\/p>\n