What happens to a dirtbag dream deferred?
Does it dry up, like a discarded orange peel in the sun, baking in the trampled desert crust?
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| Photo Carrie Albrecht |
Does it fester like a granite-grain gobie and then run?
Does it stink like rotten resoled shoe leather?
Or crust and sugar over
Like a punctured GU packet, squished in the bottom of a pack?
Maybe it just sags
Like a harness laden with too many wide cams.
Or does it explode?
-My apologies to Langston Hughes
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| Photo Blake McCord |
The ideals of the imaginative modern climber are perhaps separated by a few degrees from those of most of our society. A few themes are common to the dreams of both; we all want freedom, adventure, and happiness. However, the physical manifestation of the dirtbag dream looks, tastes, and smells a bit different than the picture of the typical American Dream. The freedom we seek might be found 1,500 feet up a granite wall with two Clif Bars and half a liter of water left and 1,500 feet to go. Our desire for adventure makes the comforts of a bed, a shower, and NetFlix pale in comparison to a Thermarest, baby wipes, and a sunset over a different horizon every night. The dirtbag dream is our version of the American dream, heated cherry red, hammered straight, and tempered by the fires within that drive us to climb.
Vision Quest; often used by climbers to describe a climb demanding exceptional commitment physically, mentally, and sometimes even spiritually. This use of the term is certainly valid, but may perhaps brush over some the original meaning and chief implications of a true vision quest. In my mind, this important ritual has several names, the vision quest, the coming-of-age, and the rite of passage. I am no expert in the coming-of-age rituals of any society, but it seems that the basic framework of a vision quest, rite of passage, or coming-of-age is made up of three key elements. First, the ritual centers on self-reliance, which may be forced through a solitary journey or other means. Second, the individual must be challenged or tested in some way. Finally, the ritual provides something important for the formation of a healthy whole person.
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| Photo Carrie Albrecht |
The dirtbag rite of passage is often accomplished through an extended road trip. Life on the road forces the first important element of self-reliance, which can be accomplished through the solo quest or the dual endeavor of road trip with a partner. A rite of passages’ second element, the challenges and testing experiences, of a life travelling and climbing are many, both on climbing days and life-maintenance days. While a few dedicated ‘lifers’ manage to live the dirtbag dream well into retirement age, many climbers find themselves pulled back and transition to a more conventional life. Whether their road trip lasted six months or ten years, the climbers I know who have chased this dream regard it as an integral, invaluable, and life-changing experience that fulfills the third element of the rite-of passage ritual.
Embarking on a rite of passage road trip is not for everyone, and I don’t mean to depreciate those whose lives are incompatible with life on the road or choose not to pursue it, rather I simply seek to provide the backdrop and reasoning behind my personal journey,a journey which is about to begin.
I have a great job in a near-perfect town, amazing friends, and am surrounded by excellent climbing, but something has been tugging at me, nagging me to step out of my comfortable path. I feel that I have never truly pursued something whole-heartedly, and for most of my life I have not had a singular passion worthy of a focused dedication. Climbing has changed that for me.
The path ahead of me is dark and uncertain, and that’s exactly the point. I don’t know where it will lead or how it will work out, but I need to jostle the wagon wheel of my life out of its entrenched groove before the rut becomes too deep to escape. I have been provided with a great opportunity, financially, relationally, and personally, I am ready to embark.
1. No fixed address: I’m out of my apartment and into the Toyota Sienna. Selling all possessions that don’t fit in the van (with a few exceptions thanks to my sister’s spacious home) has been tough, but freeing.
2. No full-time employment. I am planning to leave my job with the USGS so I can travel without the weekend warrior constraints.
3. Climb and learn. I want to see what I am capable of as a climber and as a person. Testing myself physically and mentally are top priorities.
My dream? I’m not certain what it actually is, and I think is a large part of the motivation for pursuing the extended road-trip of passage. I owe much to the encouragement of my friends, specifically Eric, Michelle, Darren, Angela, and Carrie. Without their prodding I’d probably be pursuing a permanent position in my current job rather than setting out to find what I really want. My dream is uncertain, but if deferred, I’m afraid it, or I, might explode.
There are a lot of ideas fermenting and brewing in my mind on goals, side projects, and van life. Stay tuned for upcoming posts on my van and the plan.
