Solo

Go confidently in the direction of your dreams. Live the life you have imagined. – Henry David Thoreau 

Texas is known mostly by its stereotypes. Republican. Southern. Conservative. Waco, 1993. The trouble with these—like all stereotypes—is that they don’t take into account the completely diverse landscape of possible opportunities that exist if you just look.

Growing up in San Antonio gave me access to parts of the state that generally go undiscovered by those who grew up in or have visited the metroplexes of Dallas and Houston. One of the most unexpectedly beautiful experiences in the Texas Hill Country is located just outside the German village of Fredericksburg.

Enchanted Rock is a massive pink piece of granite around which you can camp and do touristy things, on which you can climb and hike, and in which you may cavern through a labyrinth of natural tunnels and crevices for hours. At sunset, you can watch the rock face transform into a brilliant pink hue before the lights go out.

When the tourist crowd is light and you’re hiking across the sloped face, you can momentarily imagine what it must feel like to walk on the moon, barren and silent save for the wind whipping across the naked surface.

One of the most peaceful memories I have is of caverning though one of the many large crevice-causing cracks that cut through the rock. In hindsight, it’s amazing to think that nature can create these complex mazes out of sheer stone, simply to be explored. Carrying a backpack, there we many times in the near pitch black where I needed to remove the pack, toss it forward, and begin a slow decent on my stomach or back with what felt like centimeters between my nose and the opposite wall.

Yet, with no map or even a remote idea of how the labyrinth will snake its way back toward the surface, you find light and emerge at a point unfamiliar to where you began. Light is a friendly and most trustworthy map.

It’s truly impressive how quickly I forgot the beauty of that place or the combination of fear and accomplishment that accompanied caverning.

Over the last month, I’ve slowly begun recovering those emotions through indoor climbing. A close friend started going to the new Brooklyn Boulders in the West Loop before she left for Denver, and some friends and I tagged along. I’ve gone solo a handful of times with the singular purpose of building strength and technique.

When you challenge yourself through practices like climbing, which taxes your physical and mental being simultaneously, things change in the way you approach the world and the people in it. I’ve noticed myself becoming more introspective and more closely aware of my surroundings. I’m coming to the realization that I’m extremely inefficient at accomplishing simple tasks, like putting on shoes or emptying the dishwasher. I’ve noticed that my balance has improved tremendously and that as strong as your shoulders might feel thanks to swimming, they’re pretty feeble for bouldering.

Yesterday, I started the last V3 I want to complete before moving on to my first V4. I spent a couple of hours working through the moves with a group of guys and gals who were in the same spot. Some of them were a day or two ahead of me, some several behind. Some finished quickly and moved on, and some struggled too much to keep going. Each time I tried, I made subtle adjustments to certain moves and slowly completed a new move each time. With just two moves left, my grip was shot and my hands were screaming, and after one of the most spectacularly enjoyable falls I’ve had in a long time, I had to call it quits.

This morning, I can’t stop thinking about those last two moves. I watched several guys, all much stronger than me, try and fail the last move, which is as much about faith as it is strength. I also watched a fourteen-year-old girl rock her five-foot frame from side to side twice before leaping effortlessly to grip the final hold, only to climb down as quickly as she ascended. It’s impressive what we’re capable of. I’m looking forward to my next trip and the possibility of continuing to grow as a climber in a rock-less city.