Joshua Tree | Part Two |
I sit in the back parking lot of the funky hippie store/ bath house at the entrance to the park on a quiet Monday morning. The sun warms the air in my car to a sleepy stuffyness. I am reading A History of Civilizations by Braudel. The traffic on route sixty two lazily drifts by while birds sing in the small trees superimposed on the azure desert sky. It feels like spring here already.
Invisibility_lessons
foto by© Andrew Burgoon
Southern California: sunshine in the disinterested, almost contemptous winter season; a noseful of Nag Champa drifting through the campsite; the incessant chatter of a nervous UCLA student taking his novice girlfriend out for her first 5.6 outdoor route- being no adept himself; off beat and monotonous bongo drums at the end of a perfect day that you wish would go away; hand rolled cigarettes of organic tobacco- of course; the incessant diarrhea of second hand climbing stories around the campfire, dirtbags making the rounds around camp with the mandatory Pabst or micro brew in hand- a climbing rope cum dog leash in the other; the enthusiasm of clean cut Midwestern converts to the nomadic, se la vie ways of the climbing community; those who love the idea and lifestyle more than the act itself, who cherish above all scabs and scars-those red badges of courage- more so than the clean, quiet accent that is shared with none other than your belay and the wind; The 5.10 ‘hardmen’ who have led the classic 5.8s on nuts; the decided absence of females from the campground. This, in a word- or rather an extremely run-on sentence- are my observations about the human element of J Tree. I look on these things- having lived some of them myself in younger times- with an air of nostalgia tinted with indifference, indeed at times even with annoyance.
foto by© Andrew Burgoon
Joshua Tree has struck me as a place of dreams- both living and sleeping, lucid and unconscious. I leave here having touched and lived into some of those dreams. There comes a point in one’s life when you can step into the possibility of living your dreams in the now. Failure is an ever present possibility.
foto by© Andrew Burgoon
foto by© Andrew Burgoon
I have spent the last two weeks taking it easy due to a mild bout of elbow tendonitis. Last week I spent falling on climbs a full grade easier than my goal. I had stomach problems (canned tuna is the number one suspect) for days. Conditions did not seam ideal to push for my goal.
foto by© Andrew Burgoon
But ideal conditions rarely exist in this world, so aptly desctribed by Buddhists as engulfed in the ‘red dust’ of life. In the end you can wait for the perfect opportunity- which may never come- or you can open yourself to the imperfect opportunity of the here and now. Last Friday I did just that; very unsure of the outcome, but what would it be worth if it was?
foto by© Andrew Burgoon
The resulting climb was one of the best in my life, if not the best. Inspired by the tenacity of my climbing partner (he had just learned trad climbing and now he was taking falls on 5.9) and the music of Marvin Gaye (the Midnight Love album- go buy it now) I approached the climb. Leave It To Beaver is superb climbing- varied, overhanging, and beautiful. But it was that unsure feeling, through direct action slowly turned into the realization that dreams become reality by opening yourself to them, that made it memorable.
Josh
foto by© Andrew Burgoon
Southern California: sunshine in the disinterested, almost contemptous winter season; a noseful of Nag Champa drifting through the campsite; the incessant chatter of a nervous UCLA student taking his novice girlfriend out for her first 5.6 outdoor route- being no adept himself; off beat and monotonous bongo drums at the end of a perfect day that you wish would go away; hand rolled cigarettes of organic tobacco- of course; the incessant diarrhea of second hand climbing stories around the campfire, dirtbags making the rounds around camp with the mandatory Pabst or micro brew in hand- a climbing rope cum dog leash in the other; the enthusiasm of clean cut Midwestern converts to the nomadic, se la vie ways of the climbing community; those who love the idea and lifestyle more than the act itself, who cherish above all scabs and scars-those red badges of courage- more so than the clean, quiet accent that is shared with none other than your belay and the wind; The 5.10 ‘hardmen’ who have led the classic 5.8s on nuts; the decided absence of females from the campground. This, in a word- or rather an extremely run-on sentence- are my observations about the human element of J Tree. I look on these things- having lived some of them myself in younger times- with an air of nostalgia tinted with indifference, indeed at times even with annoyance.
Joshua Tree has struck me as a place of dreams- both living and sleeping, lucid and unconscious. I leave here having touched and lived into some of those dreams. There comes a point in one’s life when you can step into the possibility of living your dreams in the now. Failure is an ever present possibility.
I have spent the last two weeks taking it easy due to a mild bout of elbow tendonitis. Last week I spent falling on climbs a full grade easier than my goal. I had stomach problems (canned tuna is the number one suspect) for days. Conditions did not seam ideal to push for my goal.
But ideal conditions rarely exist in this world, so aptly desctribed by Buddhists as engulfed in the ‘red dust’ of life. In the end you can wait for the perfect opportunity- which may never come- or you can open yourself to the imperfect opportunity of the here and now. Last Friday I did just that; very unsure of the outcome, but what would it be worth if it was?
The resulting climb was one of the best in my life, if not the best. Inspired by the tenacity of my climbing partner (he had just learned trad climbing and now he was taking falls on 5.9) and the music of Marvin Gaye (the Midnight Love album- go buy it now) I approached the climb. Leave It To Beaver is superb climbing- varied, overhanging, and beautiful. But it was that unsure feeling, through direct action slowly turned into the realization that dreams become reality by opening yourself to them, that made it memorable.
| Andrew Burgoon [edit] | 22:15 17.02.2006 |
Commentaries | ... | new comments | New comment  |
| Andy strikes twice | 10:26:25 22.03.2006 |
| Now I see, I can recognize that guy, it's Zep climbing in that article. Nice. | |
| JirkaS | reply |