On the ride home we played Two Truths and a Lie. I learned that apparently Sting can be seen renting snowboard gear from Christy Sports in Park City, and some children suck on towels because they like the taste of dryer sheets. I also realized that about 30 minutes into the game, and having taken 80% of the “turns”, that I’ve done some pretty weird shit in my life. And truthfully, I was just scratching the surface. Lucky for me, it’s been less “breaking the law” and more “I can’t believe I actually did that”, but nonetheless, it was notable. Many of these things I did out of genuine self-interest, some of them were purely circumstantial, and a few of them because I was trying to look cool. And that last one never worked. Ever. I remember just after high school, I used to go shopping all the time. For clothes. Yes, I shopped for clothes. This is ironic, because unless I need gear, I now hate shopping. It was a waste of what little money I had at the time, and it didn’t give me the confidence that I was clearly lacking.
Now I’m not going to try to sell you on the idea that I don’t care about my appearance. I try to take care of myself, dress appropriately, and stay fit and healthy. But things have changed a lot over the years since I had frosted tips and wore “going out shirts” every weekend. I thought about this when we pulled up to the crag recently out in the desert. I hadn’t showered in a couple of days, nor had I looked at my reflection since we'd left home. The latter of those two is increasingly becoming a problem due to less-than-successful snot rockets, FYI….so I’m using more tissues these days. Anyway, I was wearing a very “sweat-like” pair of baggy bouldering pants, a dirty shirt, and a women’s headband taming an unruly head of hair. I publicly took a bit of a jab at myself, and my poor outdoor fashion choices. If no one else was going to, I felt obligated as it was well-deserved. But joking aside, I’ve come to realize that there’s something to be said for how the outdoor culture changes the way you make decisions. Ones like that of what you wear….or how you spend your money…or how you spend your time…or what you drive. The list goes on and on, and the caring what people think, or what the current trends are, carry much less weight.
We were in the desert. And for you Utahns, I don’t mean “desert”, as in somewhere on the drive to Wendover. We drove an hour west of Nephi, then an hour further, then an hour north into the House Mountain Range. We were a long way from cell phone service, medical care, potable water, and fuel. It was desolate country, and is in no way forgiving to the under-prepared. The number of vehicles we saw could be counted on one hand; which included one that was clearly abandoned (likely to engine trouble), and another, a late-model Subaru Outback, which was parked on the canyon road, Wisconsin plate, with a poorly handwritten note in the window that read “Adventurers” (with a scribbled pine tree). Its passengers were sprawled out in the adjacent brush under what appeared to be makeshift tents made from tarps and sticks. It was 9:30am, sunny, and still no one was moving. Something tells me their Instagram-fueled fantasies of a cross-country road-trip hadn’t yet been actualized, but what do I know(?)
After spending the morning climbing some of the most fabulous pink granite I’ve ever had my hands on, we packed up to head for home. I then heard a winy noise coming from around the canyon corner. Soon the last vehicle we would see came buzzing toward us. It was a very weathered, early 90’s Suzuki Samurai carrying a man, woman, and a small child in the passenger’s lap. For those of you that can’t remember what the Samurai looked like, you’ve probably driven over one in your lifetime. They are incredibly small, and weren’t exactly known for comfort and reliablity. It was shocking enough to see another vehicle in this remote area, let alone one that I was surprised to see is still operational after likely decades of use/abuse. We exchanged a friendly wave and a smile, as they passed us on their way up the canyon, and we were both on our way.
We had a lot of road ahead of us, and we drove in silence for a while. I thought a lot about how easy it is to get caught up in appearances. And for someone who grew up with posters of Ferraris and Lamborghinis on his bedroom wall, I certainly knew how shitty of a car a Suzuki Sidekick was back then - even as a kid. And furthermore, even more complicated than getting caught up in appearances, it’s hard sometimes to know, in this time of incredible technological advances, what you actually “need”. After all, there seems to be a gadget for everything, and some gizmo to make your life more comfortable or convenient (You caught that Little Mermaid plug, didn't you?). It’s pretty nauseating sometimes. One of the owners of a local climbing shop likes to say to his customers that “It’s not the shoe, but the climber”. It's a good point. To me, it’s the equivalent of complete accountability. It reminds me that I’m only as good at something as my effort, not my gear. Well, maybe it's 80/20, but it's certainly not 20/80. I’m lucky too, to have friends that hike in their Chacos, who eat berries off the trail, who repurpose their gear, who tread responsibly, and make a conscious effort to be one with their surroundings, and not just try to be a part of the latest trend. I think this world needs more Suzuki-driving examples to prove to us that it sometimes doesn’t take looks, fancy gear, or bags of money to get you to where you feel free.
And for someone who just turned over 160,000 miles on his aging truck, these are good reminders. Because I decided that weekend that the Ridgeline and I were in it for the long haul, despite all its shortcomings. And maybe someday a group of climbers will see me buzzing around the corner, on my way up their canyon. Hopefully, I’ll be in the grey truck…… in my very “sweat-like” pair of baggy bouldering pants…
