I spent Thursday to Sunday at The Gunks, NY taking the American Mountain Guides Association (AMGA) Single-Pitch Instructor (SPI) course. The course is a 27 hour long program spread over three days, with the aim of preparing an individual to be certified to guide clients in a single-pitch setting. The SPI exam is a separate 16-hour affair. Even though this kind of climbing does not interest me terribly, I had wanted to take this course because it is the prerequisite for any other kind of guiding certification (e.g. the Rock Guide program and certification). As I have mentioned in earlier posts, climbing 5.hard can be fun (feeling strong certainly is), but I think I derive much more satisfaction in acquiring the full body of skills/knowledge that, to me, make one a competent and safe climber. I had familiarity with a lot of the material covered in the course, but I learned a lot as well. I contacted the instructor ahead of time to make sure he was fully aware of my disability and talk to him about whether I would be holding the group back at all – something I always try to avoid. We discussed my climbing experience, what level I climb at now, how heavy a pack I can carry and on what kind of terrain. The scope of the SPI course covers pretty benign terrain, with approaches and descents not requiring advanced route-finding skills or even long approaches. I had some anxieties about carrying a fully loaded pack (double rack, usual pro and softgoods), 60m rope, 30m static line on my own; it was tiring but I think I managed all right. I think I can definitely slim down my rack since the kind of terrain I would be leading in is easy; and, a lot of the times, I will be dropping down a rope for the client to top-rope and/or rappel on. To my surprise, I found myself to be the most experienced/competent participant of the course, and really did not hold anyone in the group back. One thing that was both a challenge and illuminating thing about the whole experience is making the switch back and forth between being a “recreational” climber (i.e. climbing with buddies) versus being a guide and instructing and being responsible for clients. While I always feel a degree of responsibility for my climbing partner(s), being a guide takes things to another level. The single-pitch setting is also different for me. For example, I would not be carrying around a 30m static line to build anchors with if I am just climbing with a buddy, and certainly not on a multi-pitch climb. I am much faster at my bowlines and munter-mules now too :) Another thing that was new to me was the frequent and encouraged use of the Gri-gri (or any other auto-locking device). Before this past weekend, I think I leaned towards the Oh, using a gri-gri is a sport-climber thing, encourages complacency, blah blah blah attitude. I have since changed by mind. In a rock setting (as opposed to ice), it is a great tool for backing myself up when I am setting up an anchor over an edge and for belaying a climber who might need to be lowered; again, a more likely scenario as a guide instructing less experienced climbers than my climbing buddies. But, I still think I will incorporate using a Gri-gri more even in my own multi-pitch climbing. The end of the course had us doing a group and individual de-briefs. My instructors offered kind words, saying that I may have some of my own perceptions of my disability, but it really did not show at all in the course, and that my participation in the course really added to the experience of the other participants. One of the instructors said he would have no problem offering me a job, which was nice to hear. I know enough people who guide to not have an overly-romantic view of the profession. The instructors were also very candid in sharing the realities of guiding. There are all the injuries, the lack of health insurance, the risks, the limited income; I mean, there are only so many days in the climbing season, most of your clients will be on weekends…that isn’t very many days of actual work a year. One of the instructors is actually starting nursing school this summer for the aforementioned reasons, and also because he wants to interact with more people than just the 1%. There are also the very real physical limitations and realities that I face, and the fact that I probably will never be able to make guiding a full or even part-time career; the lack of good health insurance is particularly problematic as getting private health insurance with a pre-existing condition(s) such as mine, would be painfully expensive. This left me feeling quite depressed on Monday, as having options removed from me always does. It was nice to hear from my SPI instructors that they felt like I was pretty ready to take the SPI exam. One guy did say, yeah, the Rock Guide exam could be tough for you physically, but I think you can do it. I was a bit surprised by how little is required to be a Single-Pitch climbing guide. But it also makes me realize how much more there is to learn and how eager I am to take the full Rock Guide course (that is a 10 day course, followed by a 6 day Advanced Rock Guide Course). The Rock Guide exam is 6 days long. I am facing a bit of a dilemma in deciding whether I care about being certified and taking all the AMGA exams, or am I just happy to be exposed to and practice the content of these courses. The courses and the exams are expensive; and, I would need to invest a fair chunk of change and time into a Wilderness First Responder (WFR) course as well, if I am to be a certified Rock Guide. I’m trying not to fixate on all these somewhat amorphous, longer-term options. My next steps for the next few months are to focus on winning the 2015 Paraclimbing Nationals, train for NIAD in the Fall, and perhaps look into WFR courses if I am to keep the Rock Guide course an option. I am totally pulling this out of my ass, but I suspect there are not many SCI’s who are certified as full AMGA Rock Guides (there are quite a few who are AMGA Climbing Wall Instructors); it would be pretty neat to be the first.

My last post started off somewhat upbeat and optimistic. As I neared the end of it, it became considerably less so. I know I have a tendency to let local minima influence my mood. I know that I cannot turn back the clock, undo what happened to me – my accident – and therefore, all I can do, is be cognizant of the upward trajectory my life has, overall, taken since then, and the potential to get stronger, not weaker, with each passing year. But, as I was thinking about Moby Grape, about how I could find myself so exhausted from the approach that I would not be able to do “my” part on the climb itself i.e. do my share of the leading, not fizzle out part way through the climb…I started to cry, reminded of the sense of loss, the delta. My partner says I need to let go of the grief and forgive myself. Forgive what, exactly? I asked. He responded, that I needed to forgive myself for once having been here and now at a different absolute level (by some criteria).

I am not a boundlessly optimistic person by nature. Never have been. Which is maybe why this tendency for me to be mired in the grief, is so hard for me to shake sometimes. It is practice, I know. But, it is going to be a very long time, and probably quite a few more years of practice, before it feels second nature.

Due to time-constraints, a friend and I made a day trip to North Conway to climb some classics at Cathedral. I had climbed on one occasion with Lian (sport climbing at Rumney), but this was the first time we had climbed trad together. Due to my perpetually broken PIP joints, we chose to stay away from any finger cracks, and warmed up for the season on routes like The Roof, Funhouse and Bombardment. The last two are well-known moderate classics; but the first climb, a 5.8+/5.9 climb was actually super fun. Even though these are very easy climbs, it was nice to just get moves in on a nice (this translates to “not rainy” in the Northeast) day. I think Northeast ratings are also pretty stout! The combination of the wetness and foliage definitely makes things a bit challenging, especially when you do not trust both feet.

It is easy for me to look at climbs like this and think, man, these barely would have been warm-ups in my “prior” life. And not beat myself up too much about feeling a bit sketched out on some sections I led which felt incredibly run out, when I know, objectively, they were not. My pro was solid, the fall would have been clean…yet, it would make me slightly nervous. Lian said, you always look so calm! I replied, clearly you didn’t hear me swearing…

I don’t think Lian was aware of the trauma and lasting physical effects of my accident. I was curious to hear from him if there was anything about the way I climbed that surprised him. He said, no, not really, you looked really comfortable. We agreed that I spend a lot of time in sections, where I am figuring out the sequence of moves I am going to make with my right foot and where I would lock my left leg out. He said that I clearly was very comfortable hand-jamming. Well, yeah. It was nice of Lian to say that I climbed harder trad than most of his friends; but a) it’s New England – not that many people climb trad/cracks, and b) he doesn’t have that many friends who climb trad (related to (a)).

I guess on the one hand, this should all be interpreted as a compliment; that the strength I have developed in other parts of my body, and the way I use my body around my gimpy leg, hides theses deficits. On the other hand, I still feel a sense of frustration, that I can’t just stick my left leg in a crack, torque it, walk up a crack like a staircase and feel totally secure.

I think one thing that came out of this brief outing, was how these climbing trips seem rather normal now. How I am out with a partner, not as a handicapped person to him/her, not as someone to babysit (although I did ask Lian if he could carry the rope and a lot of the pro), but as an equal who swings leads with them, and who can just hang out with them, climber-to-climber. All good things I guess.

But in some ways, things are not entirely normal. I now do much more research about the approach/descent to climbs now, and I have to eliminate a lot of climbing options because of the length/steepness of the approach and difficulty of the climb. I know this is the case for most people, but it seems like the field of options is smaller for me now, and I hate feeling limited like that. Right now, I am on the fence about doing a total New Hampshire classic, Moby Grape, on Cannon Cliff this weekend, solely because of the approach and descent. It would suck to have to turn my back on some of the best cracks around here for this reason. We will see.