There is something about climbing rocks that keeps bringing me back. The challenge of facing fears never comes easily. Climbing teaches us to keep pushing back on that fear. The harder you push the more you realize what you are truly capable of.
I never thought I’d be that person who had more than one sleeping bag, a backpack for any occasion, and 2 snowboard setups. But alas, it happened and hey, I’m pretty happy about it. However epically awesome “gear mountain” may become, there comes a time where plastic bins just don’t cut it anymore. That time for me was when I was packing for an impromptu backpacking trip and couldn’t find my headlamp. So what did I do? Waited six months until the weather got crappy and got to work fitting out some unfinished space in my basement to show off all my gear by building a DIY gear room. In the end I had one bitching backcountry closet that didn’t break the bank.
I stand there, frozen, unable to speak, pinching a ledge of rock about a knuckle deep for dear life. We had bushwhacked our way up a Castlewood Canyon to hang out on some walls and get our climb on – however at that moment it was the last thing I could bring myself to do. Half way up a route where the holds went from gentle 5.9 jugs to a grueling 5.11a. finger killers. There I was, stuck in my sick fantasy on how was I going to fall to certain death. Tears started to trickle down my face.