Rock Climbing: A Sport I'll Never Try, So Why Am I So Obsessed?

My obsession with climbing began years ago after reading two books by Jon Krakauer. The first, Into the Wild, was about Chris McCandless’s journey into the wilds of Alaska. I admired Chris’s determination to escape corporate America by ditching what was expected of him after graduating from Emory University. He burned his money, abandoned his car, and did life on his own terms. Unfortunately, his nomadic existence did not end the way he had planned. Krakauer’s version of Chris’s life is a combination of comprehensive research and thoughtful speculation on what eventually happened to Chris.

Krakauer’s Into Thin Air: A Personal Account of the Mt. Everest Disaster needed no speculation. Krakauer was there and survived the 1996 disaster (while others in his group did not), and this book piqued my curiosity even further. What drives someone to climb an icy mountain in below freezing temps with the added threat of mountain sickness, or suffering a pulmonary or cerebral edema? Oh, and I forgot to add frostbite and the need for extra oxygen, specifically in the area known as the “death zone.” I spent hours online, finding link after link about climbers who did not make it off the mountain. Often, climbers succumb to the elements on their way down, not up, the mountain. Many of those who find their demise on the mountain remain frozen forever in their last position, as it is often too dangerous to retrieve the body. One of those was the German climber, Hannelore Schmatz. Schmatz was the fourth woman to summit Everest, and on her descent in 1979, she sat down after asking her sherpa for water and never got up. She could be seen sitting at the spot of her death, eyes open, hair blowing until the wind eventually pushed her off the mountain. This eerie image haunted me, along with other bodies, such as Green Boots, an unidentified climber who died in 1996 on ascent, wearing a pair of bright green mountaineering boots.

I next stumbled on Cheryl Strayed’s Wild. While not a rock climber, Strayed recounts her experience, which she was minimally prepared for, of hiking the Pacific Coast Trail. Like climbers, she, too, had to acclimate to high elevations and also needed the endurance and determination (not to mention physical acumen) that climbers need. Strayed’s memoir is both a physical and psychological journey. Interspersed throughout her hiking narrative are significant life events, while also highlighting some of the challenges of being a solo woman hiker.

More recently, my rock-climbing obsession blossomed into film and documentaries, with a focus on climbers who free solo, meaning they use no ropes or protective equipment. First was “The Dawn Wall,” which features the successful free climb of Tommy Caldwell and Kevin Jorgeson of the southeast face of El Capitan. This led me to “Free Solo,” which showcases the stunning talents of Alex Honnold and his complete obsession and need to climb. The filming of Honnold’s climbs by equally talented Jimmy Chin (directed by his wife, Elizabeth Chai Vasarhelyi), is an achievement in itself, with incredible views that lead to an even deeper appreciation of what rock climbers achieve. What I find most interesting about Honnold is that he states he does not feel fear to the extent that the rest of us do. Because of that, he is able to focus at an almost superhuman level.

Honnold’s predecessor was Dean Potter, aka the Dark Wizard (an episodic documentary now airing on HBO). Potter is the opposite of Honnold in his experience of fear, as it was a dream and the fear of falling to his death that drove him to climb. Instead of steering clear of that which scared him most, he faced the fear and sought to conquer it. He took the sport and created free basing (jumping from high elevations with a parachute for landing), and was a daredevil, often pushing himself to accomplish climbs, tightrope walks, or wingsuit flying when he was not in the best headspace.

Why is it that someone like me, an unathletic person (I’d rather garden than hike), is so fascinated by this sport? I will never attempt rock climbing, not even in the safety of my local gym with a climbing wall and trained staff to spot me. I’m paralyzed by heights. After spending time simmering on this question, I’ve come to the conclusion that those who engage in the sport of climbing are archetypes that I’ve come to embrace in my writing life.

Krakauer’s archetype is that of a trustworthy journalistic voice, delving deeply into a narrative (his or others) through intense research, detail, and commentary. There is nothing sentimental in Into Thin Air or Into the Wild, even though these books include a myriad of human suffering. He examines those who take extreme journeys and allows the reader to vicariously go along. His voice is authentic, and I was never led to believe that he was embellishing or leading me astray. There is nothing click-baity about Krakauer’s work. He embodies trust and thoughtfulness and leads by example with strong writing.

Strayed’s archetype is that of the memoirist. As she shares her hiking of the PCT, she is also revealing what drove her to take such a strenuous undertaking, revealing moments in her personal life that the majority of us would keep silent. Her bravery is two-fold – going out into the wild alone, as a woman, and baring the unpleasant truths of her life. It is a lot easier to read a memoir than to write one, as we are nosy human beings who stare at the wreckage of others, but wish to keep ours behind closed doors. Putting down our not so shining moments in life in words and sharing with the world is an act of bravery in itself.

Honnold’s archetype is that of discipline, preternatural focus, and natural talent. In some ways he’s an outlier, as too many rock climbers who attempt the climbs he has done are no longer with us. Honnold’s ability to ignore the little fear that he actually feels gives him an edge to his passion. If Honnold were a full-time writer, I imagine he would wake every day at dawn, write for hours in a remote location with no distractions, ignore everyone, and produce great work. He would likely present as a cocky know it all, but it would be hard to ignore his talent.

On the flip side of Honnold is Potter’s archetype. Here is an individual who as a child fell from a high place and was haunted his entire life with the dream of falling to his death, yet climbing was his passion. If that were me, I would steer clear of anything involving heights (like I do now), but instead, he stared his fear in the face and screamed at it. He pushed himself relentlessly, often taking unnecessary risks. His drive to be the best took him to dark places of jealousy and rivalry. He is the archetype of facing fear constantly, with a large dose of almost unhealthy ambition. One of the aspects highlighted in the current documentary on Potter was that he was an avid journaler, revealing his every thought, flattering or not. Not only did he face his fear by engaging in wildly dangerous activities that took free soloing to new levels, he also was facing his fears in his journal, similar to Strayed’s archetype.

As writers, we must embrace each archetype at some point in our writing lives if we wish to live the examined life. We don’t have to share it with the world, but writers are often compelled to do so, just as hikers and climbers are compelled to engage in their sport regardless of the risks. It’s risky to be a writer, just as it’s risky to climb. When as writers we choose to remove the safety gear, we may find that our accomplishments are equally as brave and rewarding. When we do fall, we have the luxury to get back to the page, giving our best.