Fair Means Free Soloing

May 16, 2012 | Stories | 6 comments

May 16, 2012 | Stories | 6 comments

Dressing myself this morning, I donned my most cherished heirloom, my grandfather’s engraved belt buckle, which reads: “Philippines 1945, U.S. Navy, Manila Cavite, James Andrew Clary.” From that year on, Grandpa wore it every single day until his death a few years ago. The buckle still has the same leather hide, though when my mom gave me the belt after the funeral, I had to cut it in half to fit my waist.

Toward the end of the war he was stationed outside of Japan with pending orders to invade the mainland that would’ve gone through had Truman not decided to drop the bomb. I’ve always wondered whether I’d be around if that catastrophic event had never occurred.

When he was alive, Grandpa talked about the war, and not much else. We’d just listen. His mind was an unfailing steel trap for information, from how hot it was in a particular month of 1943, to the idiosyncrasies of his shipmates. I remember him describing the pure fear, which he operated in daily, of the kamikazes—the Japanese word for “divine wind.” The kamikazes, of course, were the suicide pilots who flew bomb-loaded planes right into Allied ships.

“They played by unfair rules,” Grandpa once said. “And that made them terrifying.”

As climbers, our “rules of engagement”—what counts and what doesn’t count in the vertical world—are rather nebulous. But fortunately, this translates to interesting, if entirely trivial, debates you can have with your climbing friends. What else would we talk about?

My friend Mauice Waugh got going the other day on this subject of what “counts” in climbing, and before I tell you what his half-crazed rant was about, I want to preface it by telling your more about Maury.

Maury is one of the most unholy and obscene persons I know. He is not polite, and has no regard for common courtesies. In that way, he’s a “social kamikaze” in that he doesn’t have to play by the rules that the rest of us adhere to in order to remain polite and decent. For example, I could see him—after having a few drinks, half-stooped over, yelling, spitting and driving his points home by jabbing the air with his finger—telling even the Dali Lama to his face that he ought to grow some backbone. Maury is completely wild and liberated, an inspirer of ritual madness. These abhorrent, deeply entrenched character flaws would be unsurpassable barriers if Maury weren’t so damn lovable. Now in his 40s, he is an unapologetic climbing dirtbag who makes his chosen path seem positively righteous, and in doing so, ingenuously puts the rest of us at ease that what we’re doing is OK too. Maury is a jukebox of funny truths and things that no one else has the guts to say: feed him beer-tokens, sit back, and enjoy the entertainment.

Maury’s latest greatest hit concerned famous free-soloists that later killed themselves.

“If you kill yourself,” Maury said, “then your free-soloing legacy should be nullified.”

I thought it was a fascinating, if macabre, point. He’s right, though … I guess. If you’re willing to take your own life, then the dangerous game of free soloing is being played by unfair means. Like the kamikaze, a suicidal free-soloist isn’t subservient to the same rules the rest of us are, and so shouldn’t that affect to what degree their feats are impressive? Not that it needs spelling out, but the reason free soloing is such an inconceivable endeavor to most of us is because one simple mistake means you lose your life, supposedly the most important thing in the world. This is free soloing’s one trump card. Take that card away, and the playing field is quickly leveled.

Every climbing discipline contains some inherent elements that make the pursuit difficult, and when those elements are faced head-on by a climber, he or she is praised. I believe this is the definition of what we call “good style.” These boundaries have been debated, quite extensively, in other areas of the sport—such as the use of fixed ropes on a mountain, or placing bolts on rappel versus ground-up, etc.—but I’d never heard the style argument taken as far as a person’s mental constitution. But this is why Maury is great and I love hanging out with him.

My brain began conjuring other examples along these same offbeat lines. I wondered whether the use of illegal drugs, like cocaine or mushrooms, detracts from famous accomplishments. I know some hard and run-out routes were established on coke binges, and that one of Yosemite’s most storied free solos was the result of a mushroom trip.

I also wondered about a person’s weight and sport climbing. If an already in-shape and fit person has to lose five, 10 or 15 pounds to send the hardest route of their lives, doesn’t take somehow take away from the significance of their achievement?

Like I said, these are trivial and pointless things to debate and discuss around beers with people like Maury. They ultimately don’t really matter, unless we start including footnotes next to everything we do in life. And if that happens, I’m going kamikaze.

This article was originally written for Rock and Ice magazine. Stay current on my latest writing: Subscribe to the free R&I eBlast, and get a subscription to the magazine, at www.rockandice.com.

About The Author

Andrew Bisharat

Andrew Bisharat is a writer and climber based in western Colorado. He is the publisher of Evening Sends and the co-host of The RunOut podcast.

Free Climb. Free Thought.

Join the climbing discourse.

Comments

6 Comments

  1. James Lucas

    A number of free soloist make their best ascents after break-ups, bouts of depression, and other emotionally traumatic phases.  The uncaring nature of dying relaxes the climber and makes them perform better in such a mentally taxing game.  I don’t know many chipper soloists.

    Reply
  2. Avatar

    What I find most interesting is why these are even “interesting” topics of discussion. To me, it seems akin to basketball players spending an inordinate amount of time talking about the length of the court, the 3-second rule in the key, and whether or not jersey colors create unfair advantages. I’m not an America-hating American, but sometimes our culture seems a bit…weird. Almost all climbing conversations end up talking about the rules, lines and boundaries of the game that is not a sport. There is so little joy, enthusiasm, spirit of life and vitality in most of our writing/discussion of climbing. Give most any American climber a beer and a spot at the table and he becomes a brutal hall-monitor of the game. Why is this interesting? Can’t we just let the free soloist live or die without blowing a whistle at him?

    Reply
    • Avatar

      I like this comment, and I think it’s right. It is a bit weird. I think we talk about this stuff because the rules of our game are still so new … not to mention nuanced and complicated. I tried to write about this idea in my last e-blast https://eveningsends.com///2012/05/branded-controversy/

      But I think a lot of people thought I was being serious … and whatever point I was vaguely hinting at was lost on those upset that I was making fun of their daisy chains.  

      Reply
  3. Avatar

    “If an already in-shape and fit person has to lose five, 10 or 15 pounds…doesn’t this somehow take away from the significance of their achievement”

    I guess you could argue that in the context of training for a project weight loss is on a parallel to power or endurance training in that it requires a level of dedication/sacrifice. Personally, I would view it as a less respectable and healthy method of achieving climbing gains but I’m not sure whether you can say it takes away from the significance of their achievement as it still involves hard work aimed at improving your climbing performance. 

    Reply
  4. Avatar

    After reading this I thought it would be interesting to do an analysis of “great” climbing personalities. Are they all avid readers? Are most skilled in the math/science/physics fields of study? What parts of their brains are more excited and activated than the rest of us. Just wondering.

    Just makes tears well-up while reading the first couple of paragraphs about my Dad and his belt.

    Reply
  5. Avatar

    “then *your free-soloing legacy should be nullified.”

    Reply

Submit a Comment

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

Send it! To your inbox 🤓

✅ Weekly newsletter

✅ Exclusive content

✅ 25% off an annual subscription

You have Successfully Subscribed!