Finally

Two months ago I sat in a room of 25 disinterested young adults in a stuffy classroom. The dazed expressions on their faces meant one thing;Summer class had begun. And today- the first day- this was the part where students took turns describing themselves briefly to the class, as if this exercise would ease the weirdness of sitting in a room of strangers who would rather be in bed at nine in the morning.

Normally during these little activities I find it far too easy to simply call upon climbing as a facet of my identity. I often spend my free time scaling boulders. I find pleasure in bringing myself from the ground to the top by my own means. I think that's unique enough to distinguish me.

This time however I felt a little insincere describing myself as a rock climber. Yes, I still had the shoes, the crash pad, the gym membership, and the chalk bag. But do those things alone define me as a climber? Sure, I had all the accouterments, but I was lacking that one ever-so-important ingredient that makes a kid with equipment into a full fledged climber: psyche.

I hadn't been climbing in a month at that time in my life, and I wouldn't climb for another after that, save a few light bouldering sessions up at Flagstaff and a night or two in the gym. I was a certified bum. Something had to change.

A week ago I received a text from my freshman-year climbing partner, Alex Enright. Alex was back in town, and immediately I realized that this was the opportunity I needed to get back out there. If anyone could rekindle my interest in climbing, it was Alex.

The majestic Hallett Peak in Rocky Mountain National Park

Alex Enright is one incredibly stoked individual, but that psyche is coupled with a stubborn pessimism. I consider myself a fairly positive person, but I'm always intrigued by people like Alex. Our time at the crag is usually spent arguing over the worth of an area, problem, type of rock, or something else completely off topic (usually hip-hop related).

I defend my stance of generous value-giving, and he holds strong to his criticisms. Sometimes we'll settle on some middle ground, a place probably closer to the truth than either of our viewpoints. And I like that.

We went to Chaos Canyon in Rocky Mountain National Park. On the hike up, I could feel my body exhaling my recent apprehensions about climbing with every breath of thin, high-altitude air. The vistas along the trail and the commentary from day-hikers about our crash pads reminded me where I was, what I was doing, and I felt home.

Lake Haiyaha from Upper Chaos

Sometimes a sudden and unexpected change in life can set us vibrating at strange frequencies. Something about a shift from the familiar can feel discouraging, and such discouragement may muddle up our thoughts and decisions. The past few months, I have felt completely out of my element, with no clue as to why. Sitting atop Autobot - V5 staring at the crystal clear and sky blue waters of Lake Haiyaha, it all became so painfully obvious. I had missed this so much. The beauty, the struggle, the freedom. All of it.

While I had been off indulging in whatever distractions the town of Boulder tossed my way, I had forgotten that old friend of mine; the wilderness. Many things in my life lately have been fleeting and impermanent, but the wilderness... the wilderness was always there. Unchanging, constantly waiting to greet me once more into its stands of tall pines and fields of jumbled rock.

It grounded me in a way I have never known.

I may have lost some strength, but my technique is still there, and I have gained something far more important from my absence anyway. Finally, I have my psyche back. It took forgetting- and the joys of rediscovery- but I'm finally back.

- JP

Lake Haiyaha

Stoked to send The Kind - V5 at Emerald Lake

Storms rolling into Hallett Canyon, check out the water droplet on the lens!