When I was 8, my old man took me climbing.He took me to Pete's Rock on Wasatch Boulevard, named after early SLC climber Odell Peterson back in the days of hobnail boots & stoveleg pitons. I didn't know that then & very few know that now. I was young, but I knew falling could kill me so I suppose the age of gravitational innocence was over. For several years it was the same drill, I'd usually rappel once, maybe twice each time we'd get up the canyon. My hands would tense, sweat & shake whilst my stomach would churn with nervousness. Those early years were a mixed bag of emotions. In the end, I was the kid on the block with the dad who climbed, & for some reason, I borrowed a good deal of pride from that.
When I was 16 I began teaching climbing at a local Scout Camp. By 19 I was climbing 3-5 times a week in the CC's, Fergie's, Parley's & The Uintahs. Ultimately I chose climbing over college that year. I soon went on a mission back east & was constantly looking for good quality rock though I refrained from climbing any of it. When I returned home, I began climbing once again at a feverish pace. In a year, I was married & things began to change.
Meg & I climbed together for several years. Smith Rock, The City, the CC's & such, all with a lessening degree of frequency and difficulty. Homes, college, careers & eventally a kid would slow down the habit to a fraction of what it once was. Then it happened.
The biggest reason we had all but given up the sport was now, at age 3, asking to go climbing. We had been given a full body kids harness by a friend in anticipation of this day but didn't figure it would arrive this early. I called a good friend, one in roughly the same position, and we set it up.
One of my first Big Cottonwood climbs, the classic "Epic Wall" is a meager 5.4-5.5 on the first pitch. I looked at the first 20 feet at its base and found it suitable for our pre-school caliber assault. I climbed up, set some cams in a familliar crack and rigged us up a little top rope for tikes. I had my doubts, but they were entirely unfounded. The two scrambled up the chunky face in 4 wheel drive with little thought about fear, mortgages, job security & the like. All that existed were them and the rock. I was envious of that. Although I appreciate the distractions I have acquired (Henry being one of them) I couldn't help but revert back to more simple times when, aside from my life, I didn't have much to lose.
Those days are over of course and rightly so. I had my time on the sharp end and I enjoyed it. I look forward to the days when Henry drags me up climbs that I am no longer mentally capable of leading. That's what I did with my dad & I imagine thats what he'll do to me. Until that time, I sure am going to enjoy teaching him what I know about the sport, in hopes that the sport will teach him what it has me.
Humility,
Preparedness
& Respect.
-Kevin
3 comments:
Hope it's ok to comment, Kevin, even thought we don't know each other well. I totally love this post. What a legacy you are leaving to your son. Just like you I'm sure he'll reap benefits you never thought possible. So, so cool! You want to start charging for lessons? :) I have a couple of monkeys that aren't lucky enough to have parents with the technical know-how in this area. I'm bemoaning the fact I didn't learn!
Henry looks like such a stud in those pics. I would imagine that he is less fearful at age 3 then at age 5. What a great thing to teach him. My boys would be all over it!!!
Way to go Hank! Now you and Jack can swap climbing stories. Albeit Jack's climb was on the tailend of a cruiseship. Nonetheless, they have both climbed.
Maybe we can climb when we head up in a couple of weeks.
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