Climbing

In the past few months, I’ve gone rock climbing, both outdoors and indoors. So far, I’ve climbed at Indian Rock and Mortar Rock, two rock formations in Berkeley.

Whenever I tell someone I go rock climbing outdoors, without ropes, there’s usually a silent gasp that I’ve learned to detect. I’m not foolish—I don’t go alone and we bring a crash pad. So far? I’ve sprained an ankle.

I’ve developed an affinity for climbing difficult to express in words—you have to understand the lure of climbing to someone who has never quite fit the mold of convention. After all, Berkeley is the Mecca of progressive lifestyles—namely yoga, tolerance, and facial hair.

Imagine the yellowest sky you’ve ever experienced. The landscape is literally glowing with the colors created by the sunset. Like the sun is right beside the Earth—and you are there to witness the end of the world. Then you’ll have a picture of the sun setting by Indian Rock. It’s the most sublime experience I’ve had in my life. The closest I’ve felt to admitting the reality of nature ephemeral.

Climbing favors the weak. When most people think of climbing, they imagine broad shoulders and strong arms. In reality, many adept climbers are skinny and young. Children have a knack for being strong climbers, as their weight to strength ratio is unusually favorable. Besides, climbing is hardly a physical game. It originates and is sustained by the mind. It’s about creating a plan and having the wherewithal to commit. Physicality helps, but so does childlike resolution. Fear is natural—it’s not a feeling that goes away but a tool in your pursuit to climb the rock. Sometimes, I’ll be up there and I’ll be almost shaking with fear. Fear in your face is fear useful. You do not overcome it; it becomes you and you become it.

Not to say that I’ve become totally comfortable with outdoor climbing—I’m still a novice in many respects.  I frequent a gym called Bridges located in an Asian shopping plaza. I’ve heard it described as ‘the plaza with Ranch 99.’ It’s become a utopia of sorts: where I go to be away from my small town and my small life. But is this not the case with nature? The rocks will persist regardless of all the pain and sweat we put into conquering it. It provides the possibility of becoming more than we are—the promise of an eternal existence. Available for the here and now.