OAL 250 & 275 Thoughts on Meaningful Activities and Risks Associated with Them
I lace up my shoes, put on my ipod and hit the road knowing what will come as I start setting my pace. “Runners High,” as I’ve talked about it so many times before with other runners is an addictive and euphoric state one reaches after running. It would seem that it is an auto telic activity that once started, its participants keep coming back for more.
After some serious back problems however, I began to rethink this amazing activity and knew that I would have to find another love. That is when I was introduced to the world of climbing.
Going on a trip to Joshua Tree for the first time, I met climbers and experienced a world that I never knew existed before. I found to my surprise that like running, climbing produced similar enjoyable and meaningful experiences.
All was not lost. I could replace my long-standing love for running with the empowering and meditative practice of the climb, a priceless transfer.
In this new world of climbing, with its innate art and grace to be learned, so too is the art and skill to be acquired in association with the risk and fear provoked by this sport.
Unlike any other sport or activity I have engaged in thus far, climbing is the ultimate risk perceivably for myself. With a slight fear of heights and at times a certain doubt in my own self-efficacy, this sport provides of a plethora of skill and esteem opportunities.
Without the risk, without the fear, I would not learn to take myself seriously as a leader; I wouldn’t learn to trust myself ultimately. I would also continue to coward in the face of other activities that challenged my fear of heights.
When a certain level of risk is involved, a demand for peace to counterbalance this in trepidation becomes apparent as well. In the face of my fears as I am learning to lead and rappel down the face of a rock wall, primarily trusting my own skill, I learn how to be silent. I learn how to “turn inward and digest…to let the senses rest and grow still.”
OAL 362 Tourism Excess
We drive into Queenstown, New Zealand. Alongside our slow moving van hauling its 12 passengers and a trailer filled to the brim, the bay proudly displays colors that are quite possibly the most beautiful hues of sea green and blue. The beauty of this sight takes me aback, while steep hills covered with tussock grass border my left. Soon enough however, we are in a quant boutique like town and I can almost smell the transactions taking place.
Just this morning as I was waiting for my turn on the computer (a scarcity while traveling) I took a short walk down the main stretch, on “Shotover Street.” 90% of the businesses were for booking skydiving, bungy jumping, rafting, canyon swinging, glacier guides as well as a dorky Lord of the Rings tour. The other 10% of the businesses were eateries, cafes, and clothing shops.
I sit here in observation of this town and wonder what kind of place it would be without the hubbub of tourism? And how can I not then think of my town, Ashland? How would we sustain our small community without the constant filtering of transactions and fancy shop windows catered around the rich?
Our towns would be sustainable unto themselves. The lack of dependency on outside monies would mean more local shop owners and affordable and simple activities. In Ashland, restaurants would close and boutiques would pack up shop. Here in Queenstown I believe the faces and cultural signifiers of Kiwis would be felt rather than drowning in the sea of advertisements for adventuring. A simpler town it would be, less traveled, less sought after but more authentic non-the-less.
OAL 375
“When a person is calm, complex events appear simple.”
A guide for the area with directions and route information, check. Ropes, check. Quick-draws, check. Proper anchors, check. Personal gear including a harness, shoes, helmet, belay device, and tether, check.
Until recently, I basically showed up to a crag with my own gear and looked sheepishly at guide just to read the information on the route(s) I would be climbing. I was unaware of the complexity and organization involved with facilitating this sport.
“The wise leader is like water… water freely and fearlessly goes deep beneath the surface of things; water is fluid and responsive; water follows the law freely.”
Yesterday when I went climbing with a small group, again Adam and Brandon facilitated the climb. The rest of us poured into the white snail, (our extremely slow van) ready for the 30 minute drive and the 1 hr approach to the crag. We were aware of the approach as a result of being funneled this information by the leaders.
When we got to the crag we began ascending a steep dirt road and at the top I watched as Brandon and Adam peered into the guide, deciphering the next trail to proceed on.
After a beautiful trek across a water fall with a Lord of the Rings feel, we finally arrived at our crag.
There were many areas to climb at. Our leaders chose the most appropriate location, “The Main Wall.” Again, appearing as though this decision was made with no effort, a lot of factors were considered. The routes had to be sport routes, that is the gear we had for the climbs. The routes had to be easy enough for the beginner climbers in the group, and yet include routes for potential lead climbing.
Also, more gear information had to be considered, which I had never thought of. When you are climbing a 70 meter route, a 60 meter rope surely won’t do the job. I had never thought of these leadership considerations, it was as if a magician did their thing and went, “voila!” and we were ready as participants to simply show up and climb.
A good leader is grounded in their knowledge base, silently working their magic in the background, and only when an observer starts getting interested or observing do they truly witness all of the complexities and decision making involved with the process.
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