The Bouldering Process

This isn't much of a trip report, but just some thoughts sprayed on a page. 

When my parents visited Arizona a few months ago to escape the northeastern US winter season, they bought over the viola I used to play when I was younger. Although I barely remember how to read the sheet music, I did remember the process of learning a piece of music, which funnily enough is very similar to the process of projecting a boulder. 

Bouldering is a simple game- finding a suitable movement sequence that satisfies the riddle in front of you- and then being able to execute it. When you first start this game, you are completely outmatched by the rock- there are so many nuances that you need to consider, such as the hand sequence, the foot sequence, the hidden holds, the deceptive shadows, etc.. However, over time, you slowly become more and more familiar with the stone's intricacies, its strengths and weaknesses, and sooner or later you manage to find your way through using your own physical and mental capabilities. At this point the playing field has evened out and you work with the stone to perform a well-rehearsed dance. Like most things, the dance can always be improved. 

Everyone's process to the game is different. 

I write down my beta. It might be overkill to do so, but I find it helps me more than watching video, because what's more evident that you truly understand a boulder problem when you can write down your method and visualize it when doing so? It's sometimes a pain in the butt, but I haven't been let down by it yet, and so that's my modus operandi. That being said, writing down beta is not the end game for me, as it can also be mental. Most of my most memorable sends come from when I failed at the crux move multiple times such that I thought it must be impossible, until one day, it wasn't. From what I've observed, the day the moves went was the day I stopped caring enough about the outcome of the move, and to just do it. That's probably what it means to climb hard- to make what seems impossible for you real. Either that, or coffee is a helluva drug. 

My process came out of a need to escape being in the shadow of someone else, which seemed like an insurmountable task. Looking back on it, that thought is funny and a bit sad. It's not worth trying to run through test pieces just to prove that you are capable in an arbitrary judgment contest. Go do it, just to do it- and not because you need to prove yourself. Climbing is too arbitrary and probabilistic for that. That being said, it wasn't a total net negative. Forcing myself out of my comfort zone into trying things hard for me, and succeeding, did up my confidence in my capabilities. It's funny how it all started with trying to do Moonstone. I'm still a middling boulderer at best, but it seems a bit crazy to me how much further I've come since then with the help of other climbers. 

I've learned a few key lessons since them, and I hope to apply them to my future goals. Projects are getting harder and harder, so I've realized it's important to just enjoy the ride and the little things that occur. Here's a few moments of victory captured of me on the process. 

Sticking the throw to the first sloper on Receptionist

PC: Joe Durling. 

Going for the next grip on Public Enemy

PC: Joe Durling

Just gotta remember to do it just to do it.