Climbing House » Where Climbers Live

I still remember the first time I climbed. Geared up with my purple rental harness that had the look and feel of a repurposed seat belt, marshmallow rental shoes, and naive overconfidence, I rainbowed up plastic jugs. The route itself wasn’t too physically difficult, but as I got higher off the basketball court at the University of Nebraska, I could feel the exposure. Ten feet from the top I decided I had enough and stammered a request to come down. Jason laughed, insulted my balls, and told me to get to the top. From that point on I was hooked. How could I not be? The 20 routes set in our little corner of the gym provided endless challenge, puzzles and above all, fun. The friends I met waiting around for a rope to open up are still some of my closest today. But the movement and the feeling of improvement are what got me addicted and kept me coming back. Ten years on and well over 100 vertical miles later, here I am, helpless to resist such a compelling sport. I followed my heart and career from the endless Nebraska flatlands, through Moab, to Boulder and now to Yosemite’s shadow in the Bay Area. I’m just as motivated as my younger self and still in awe of the endless riddles nature poses on the rock.

Grace working the wide Jams on the Yosemite classic Reed’s Direct.

I woke up from a beautiful, vivid dream. We were lounging on the deck of a white boat, adrift at sea. The sun was hot, the sky was clear. A crew of my family and friends surrounded me. Normally, a dream like this wouldn’t be noteworthy, but this dream was special, the first I’ve had in two months.

My wife and I recently had twins. This has been amazing in so many ways, but not without it’s challenges. We’re losing sleep, personal time, and many of the freedoms we’re accustomed to (like having time to bathe every day, complicated meals, and climbing).

But it’s getting easier, and the possibilities, the dreams, are returning. Jamming up the cracks of desert towers, squeezing through slot canyons, dips in the creek. I’m dreaming again, browsing Mountain Project, hands sweating. And a funny thing has happened: I stopping drinking soda, I went for a run, I’m stretching. Just the dreams are helping me live better.

The siren song of sandstone sings again; This time I’ll bring a bigger crew.

“I almost punched myself in the balls.” – Cliff Li

That was the day in a nutshell at Mickey’s. Sebs, Cliff and I were battling the greasy boulders while greasy naked old guys threw around a Frisbee, the scene reminiscent of Boulder’s Dream Canyon. Enjoy a few pics from the day’s events.

Gearing up to launch a huge dyno