What was your best climbing day of the decade?

photo by Logan Mahan

I'm a sucker for nostalgia. I always get a joyful kind of pensiveness at the end of the year. So when Mountain Project username "plantmandan" started a thread titled "What was your best climbing day of the decade?" I was thrown into a nostalgic journey through the past.

I'm also a hopeless romantic, so I listened to Neil Young's "Journey Through the Past" on repeat while doing so.

I started rock climbing (and this blog) toward the beginning of the decade and since then it has brought so much joy and memories it's hard to pick a singular day. Rock climbing has been my conduit to travel, my social outlet, a source of friends and companionship, and my respite and sabbath from school, work, and stress.

Significantly, it isn't the climbing that stands out the most.

It's the meaningful conversations that I genuinely believe can only be had on long car rides driving across the country.

It's spending $40 of gift card money on margaritas at the Canon City Chile's while flash floods swept through the canyons and gulches of Shelf Road.

It's bringing the wrong crampons on your first alpine climb. (I'm basically Alex Honnold.)

photo by Barrett Pckard

It's the profound sense of clarity and peace of mind as you top out that highball boulder problem all by yourself, alone in the woods, as the snow begins to blanket the forest.

It's sitting around the campfire listening to the Knoxville crew picking and grinning bluegrass music at Del and Marte's campground.

It's tying an inner tube to a boulder and floating for hours on the South Platte River.

It's running an inner tube down the Clear Creek rapids after a big rain at the Obed.

photo by Ragnarok Endurance Competitions

It's the fist bump from your partner after a proud send or a scary whip.

It's shotgunning a PBR at 10:00 AM on the side of Independence Pass because the can got a hole in it and Josh has a strict "no beer left behind" policy.

It's sitting around the campfire, listening to Doc Watson underneath the high desert stars when a huge herd of open range cattle come marching through your campsite.

It's the silhouettes of elk at ridge line, as the sun peaks up from behind that makes that 3:30 AM alpine start all worth it.

It's the summit hug and selfie after accomplishing a big goal you set for yourself with your best friend.

It's proposing to your wife at the top of her first multi-pitch in North Carolina.

photo by old lady hiker at Table Rock

It's getting in your truck after a day at work, driving to the local cliff, and talking about your day with your belay partner who happens to be your co-worker.

It's eating BBQ on the bench outside Jed's Gas Station at the base of Pigeon Mountain where most people boulder but you, proudly, had a 50-pitch day trad cragging at Lost Wall.

It's stuffing your sleeping bags in the floorboard of your truck and cranking the heat to make them nice and toasty when there's a fire ban in Tennessee.

photo by Vance Cato

It's the stories and laughter shared around the campfire with folks you only met an hour ago who came from all over the country or the continent to climb the same rocks you are.

It's Eli talking about Peter Gabriel's "Solsbury Hill" while driving to King's Bluff and then turning on the radio and it being the very next song. (We screamed like school children on the playground.)

It's playing games in the dirt when you get to your backcountry camp.

photo by I don't remember

It's sleeping in the dirt, in a tent, or in the back of a truck, making a cup of coffee and walking to the cliff in the early morning air.

It's dipping into that well-spring of youth every time you go play in the woods and realize you're a full grown adult who still gets to play in the woods.

It's countless sweaty summer days chasing the shade at Sunset Rock or up in Suck Creek.

It's talking about the historicity of Ice Cube's "Good Day" and the age appropriateness of pooping your pants while hiking into North Clear at the Obed.

It's the view from the anchors, the sound of the river at the bottom of the gorge, and the sun setting behind the Southern Cumberland Mountains of Tennessee.

It is the memories of places and people that make rock climbing so special for me.

But if you want a straight answer to the question, "What was your best climbing day of the decade?" It goes like this:

trad: climbing 3,000 ft in a day for my 30th birthday at the Linville River Gorge with Russ.

sport: clips and whips (no significant sends) and then inner tubing the Clear Creek rapids at the Obed with Eli.

video

boulder: last month, running around Zahnd climbing and giggling on all the oddities, triflings, and V-Weird boulders with Andrew and Hobe AKA the Choss Boys AKA the Chosstafarians AKA The Three Chossineers.

the not climbing part of climbing: sitting around the campfire every night for a week drinking cheap beer and listening to Doc Watson in El Rito, New Mexico with Josh.