I am a dirtbag

I am a dirtbag.

Dirtbag: (n) A person who is committed to a given (usually extreme) lifestyle to the point of abandoning employment and other societal norms in order to pursue said lifestyle. Dirtbags can be distinguished from hippies by the fact that dirtbags have a specific reason for their living communaly and generally non-hygenically; dirtbags are seeking to spend all of their moments pursuing their lifestyle

I have spent many months sleeping outside, under a tent, in a van, on a boat, under tarps, beside train tracks (only twice), on friends couches, at the climbing crag, under the stars, at my father's, and etc. In fact in the last 2 years I've spent more time outdoors than indoors, substantially. Did I really think becoming a dirtbag would happen to me? No. Not really. I never thought I would be dirty more often than clean, and be more comfortable after day 3 of not showering. It's unusual and perhaps a little bit uncanny. Before climbing the thought of using a dirty dish or utensil was gross and now it is the norm. I scrub my dishes without soap, and when I have warm running water I feel spoiled. I cook breakfast and dinner every night and grocery shop, roughly, every 3rd day. I do without a nice cell phone, television, vidja games, or any electronic entertainment. I have a nice laptop and a D-SLR camera. Aside from that, Flip Flop, and my 1988 Toyota van, I don't own much. I try to live simply and enjoy what is already there. The rock and the mountain and the beauty all around us. There was a time when I had more, until the time I decided to have less.

I had started climbing May 2009, most of which was merely simple bouldering at Priests Draw or Kelly Canyon in Flagstaff, Arizona (I could hardly do a sit down start on magnanimous jugs!). August of 2009 I sold most of what I owned, packed up a backpack with the essentials (a few changes of clothes, climbing shoes, and a chalk bag) and headed to New York via Arizona by way of hitchhiking. I never had been to New York before. After a month of traveling, I arrived. To do what? Absolutely nothing. I headed down to Ohio, why? I don't know. I was in a situation and a sort of limbo. I did not know what I wanted, who I wanted, where I wanted, nor had I any sense of purpose or plan. So I googled it. In a desperate lunge of couchsurfing and being on the lam (nothing illegal) I went to Louisville Kentucky! It was here that I realized what it was I wanted to do. I wanted to go rock climbing. I hadn't touched the stone since August and it was now late September. 'There's probably bouldering at the Red River Gorge' I thought to myself. Nope!

I arrived at the Red River Gorge, borrowed a harness from someone who would later become a good friend, and on day 1 I busted up my leg on top rope. 'WTF?' I thought. 'Perhaps I'll stay for 4 or 5 days.' I met my mentor, Timo Scheu, and stayed for 6 weeks. I learned the art of lead climbing and the basic ethics of sport climbing. We headed west to Red Rocks, Virgin River Gorge, The Homestead, Queen Creek Canyon, Flagstaff and surrounding areas, and then Timo left. In April I headed to Bishop, met back up with Timo and we went to Smith Rock State Park in Terrebonne Oregon. We stayed with Greg Garretson. We climbed nearly every day. and I sent 12a. 

the homestead

Timo Scheu, ugly fella

Golden Boy

Tarp City version. I

Funk Rock

Smith Rock. What is there to say about it? It's absolutely awesome. Crimpy, pocketed, and small holds on vertical faces with little for feet (in most cases). You can also find steepness and jugs, depending on your definition of jugs and steepness(zoo, aggro, marsupials). It's quite phenomenal sport climbing and in some cases multi-pitch. The trad is rad, too (lower gorge). If there were ever a question to spend time there, and you have not then you answered incorrectly. It's a great place full of magic and laughter. and bumblyness and boldness. It's where sport climbing started in Amurrika. Watts tots12a. First 14a in america, to bolt. Good ol' JB tribout. Frenchie sending america's first 14a, What a guy. The stick clip was invented there (don't quote me), and the runouts are notorious (spank the monkey, full heinous cling, karatewall, dreaming).

I fell in love with Smith Rock. Only because it was hard and I was not good at the style... at all. What I was sending at the Red, I couldn't even touch at Smith. It was different, some say sandbagged. It's old school, they say. The first bolted sport climbing in America! Crimps to break your fingers on, and pockets to rip your tendons. Small small small vertical climbing. I've spent the majority of my sport climbing endeavors there. In the passed 2 years, probably 8 months or more. I spent the spring there. Then the next fall. Then the next spring. and now the last month of fall. I've climbed a lot of the single pitch sport routes and know the area pretty well. It just keeps drawing me back and has become the standard for which I check my progression. Have I progressed at all? I am headed to the Red River Gorge in hopes to crush! In hopes that the time I spent at Smith Rock has added a collage of climbing criteria and technical wizardry, to slay that of which is the overhanging steepness of the Red. 

That's merely the climbing. It's a complete experience in and of itself. You may meet Joel, a dirtbag local. Among many other locals who stay for seasons at a time. Go spend your time at the local gear shop, Red Point, with Eric or Jordan (free wifi). Spend your money there. All of your monies! Did you climb hard today? Then go feast on some sweet grub at the Terrebonne Depot. It used to be a train station, has cheap PBR and a wicked happy hour (get the oregon burger). In the fall go buy some pumpkins and walk around the corn maze. Groceries can be obtained at Thriftway, and if your needs aren't met by the Smith Rock Bivouac, then you can have fires and plenty of fun at the Grasslands aka Skull Hollow.

Climb Heinous Cling, go to The Zoo, ascend the Monkey Face, and if you can and it's set up do the Monkey Swing (although I've heard they've banned it)!