The best sound in the world is the sizzle of meat hitting a hot pan after a long day of climbing and the aroma of gas burning from the stove on the tailgate of my truck. By this point, I’m only thinking about one thing …
Why don’t I eat more of it while craggin’?!
It doesn’t matter where I am—Yosemite, Indian Creek, Maple Canyon—I climb from the time morning coffee is done ‘til I’m so HANGRY that all my climbing partner has to do is say “good job bro” and I get so pissed that I want to kill them.
In the morning it’s always the same wakeup routine. I utter some words until sip three of coffee, then I pretend it’s time for meditation. The reality is that I’m such a coffee junkie that until I get high enough on caffeine I’m just an ass … I’ll then eat oatmeal or eggs or granola—basically whatever I was able to steal from work. Then I’m off to climb. The next four to six hours are sheer joy, filled with new routes, old routes, sending, projecting, or just shooting the shit with my bros.
But everyday around 2 o’clock I start to get grumpy. Sometimes I even think to myself,
I’m hungry … I should probably eat something.
But the idea of stopping long enough to have a snack seems as daunting as doing Warren Buffett’s taxes. I have enough energy for the next hour to finish the pitch or get the next move, but without fail the HANGER sets in. I flail on everything, no matter what size the crack or how big the jug—all because of my inability to take care of myself.
My partner will say
it’s no big deal
it’s been an awesome day,
to which I reply with the first four letter word that comes to mind. To their credit, they usually respond with
have you eaten anything today?
and like a toddler with their first word, I yell back
Suddenly, as if a Hypnotist used a magic word on me, I’m brought out of a spell. I apologize for being a douche and go silent.
As we rappel or hike back to camp I think of nothing but what I’m going to cook. Once back at camp my control freak comes out and everyone better stay out of my way, as I immediately start cooking some sort of carbohydrate and if I’m lucky meat. When dinner is served I sit down by the fire and inhale my bowl of gruel. Every bite is like a spiritual experience; I feel as though I’m transcending to a higher level of consciousness.
At this point I’m able to realize how rude i’ve been to the people who have my life in their hands, and how fortunate I am to be able to follow my passions with very little interruption from real life.
I live simply and I have a lifestyle that affords me opportunities to have amazing life experiences. But in living out of my truck I get lazy on self-care. I don’t shower that often, change my clothes rarely, and don’t eat enough. I feel so grateful to have found something that I love so much that I’m willing to give up “normal” comforts. However, just because I live out of my truck doesn’t mean that I should neglect self-care, like doing laundry, eating regularly, and taking a shower every chance I get.
A life lived passionately is the only life worth living. Take care of yourself no matter your lifestyle, and stay dirty dirtbags!