Simple: Part 1
Scott Grimes
By: Scott Grimes
I would like to try to let you in on a little secret I have come to realize
in my un-illustrious 20 years of rock climbing. OK, so if you make it
through my little yawn fest you may end up saying to yourself "big freaking
deal." Fine, I don't care, or maybe I care too much. Over the years so
much has built-up inside of me that now it is bursting to get out. How
unfortunate for you all that I have decide to regurgitate some of it.
Ecstasy, rapture, cheers, mirth, revelry, hilarity, playfulness and so on.
Since I am somewhat of an underachiever grammatically, as evidenced by
previous attempts to write a story or trip report, I can not use any of the
previously mentioned words to describe the inner contentment climbing brings
to my life.
That being the case I will have to stick to the simple words or word in this
case. In looking at my word my first thought is that the word lacks punch
maybe a little too weak. It needs to be more extreme staying line with
today's genre'. "No way not going to do it", can't be a conformist. Got to
fight for what is left of my independence. That is what attracted me to rock
climbing in the first place, because it was different, really different.
Twenty years ago rock climbing was for nuts, people who had a death wish or
something of that nature. "Hey you, what ya' been up to since high school"
an old classmate asked. I would reply, "rock climbing." "Rock climbing", my
classmate said. "What ya' you mean like Spiderman and shit." "Yea, like
Spiderman and shit." It was lost on them and I did not care because I knew I
finally had something in my life that could not compare to anyone else.
I suppose eighteen year olds are always looking to be different. Trying to
find something that will get them noticed in a cool hip sort of way.
Playing sports is a good way to do this. (Un)fortunately for myself I did
not have the size to play football or the ability to compete for a place on
the baseball team. As a youth I bounced between the fringe sports in hopes
in finding a place where I could be comfortable and not feel lost. In high
school tennis filled that role, but living in Western Pennsylvania amongst
the steel mills, tennis did not make your old man proud. Most likely he was
embarrassed. Maybe that is why he never came to any of my matches in three
years, even after qualifying for the state finals in doubles during my final
season.
While visiting the Air Force Recruiter I further disappointed my father by
not signing on the dotted line. Mostly because I was secretly holding out
to see if this obscure College in West Virginia was going to except me.
Nine days before for incoming freshmen were to report to campus the
acceptance letter came from this unknown college. With not more than a
handful of words from both my parents I am left standing in my freshmen dorm
room on the campus of Davis & Elkins College.
My knowledge of rock climbing and the secrets it holds until this point was
from television ala' Jim McKay and ABC's Wild World of Sports on Saturday
afternoons. In August of 1981 rock climbing was still a mystery to me but in
less than sixty days I will have attempted to lead my first climb ever, a
5.5. Little did I know this holdout of mine was going to unlock the many
secrets of rock climbing.
Two days after my arrival on campus I meet Mark, a fellow classmate, and I
am riveted about this place he talks about. A place to go rock climbing,
called Seneca Rocks. Nestled in the Allegheny Mountains of the Monongahela
National Forest Seneca Rocks is about as unique a formation of Tuscarora
quartzite you find anywhere. This geological formation is made of the same
stone the Shawangunks of New York are. Because of strong tectonic forces
millions of years ago the rock appears to be standing on end like slices of
bread. About 250 feet thick at its base and a balance quivering eight foot
wide on top of the South Peak. The rock climbing routes are vertical and
very exposed at times but, thankfully mostly moderate.
Seneca has two distinct summits, guarded by the forty foot pinnacle that
sat directly in the gunsight notch between the two peaks; the Gendarme.
French for police, the locals used to call it the chimney. This little
formation had a storied past much like most of Seneca Rocks
With not much prodding on my part Mark gives me my first taste of climbing
by introducing me to buildering. This takes place on the beautiful stones
walls of an abandoned three-story mansion on campus called Graceland. A
week later I meet Keith, an upper classmen from a fraternity, (thinking
beer) whom happens to be a climber from Maryland that was weaned on the
cliffs at Carderock State Park. Fraternity fall Rush was getting ready to
start and perhaps he was out on the plebe floor looking for new recruits.
Checking to see who was worthy not only for the fraternity but maybe also
for a climbing partner.
Worthiness, now that is a word I have found hard to come by in my life.
Being away from home for the first time ever did have me lonely and scared
but I was glad to be out of Beaver, Pennsylvania. (I know, funny place to
be from- are we not all from Beaver.) The drinking age in West Virginia was
still 18 years of age so getting beer was no problem and neither was pot.
The two together had me headed out of control. Davis & Elkins College,
better known as D&E or as I used to call it Drugs & Entertainment, was the
perfect proving grounds for my new favorite substances.
Trying to put on my best face I got invited to a couple socials at the frat
house and while in Keith's room I see this poster of a climber sans rope all
encrusted in ice and barely discernible due to the spin drift. I feel myself
being drawn to the poster. Right then and there I wanted to be that guy.
(Doug Tompkins on Hell's Lum Crag, Cairngorms, Scotland.) With a quick
glance over to the other wall of Keith's room there is another poster, the
Lost Arrow Spire in Yosemite with the Tyrolean Traverse set up and a climber
mid span on the rope. Beer who wants beer, sorority chicks. No way! I want
to be these people depicted in these two posters.
Sensing my waywardness Keith decided I need a little intervention, a
confidence booster. On September 29th, 1981 he takes me bouldering to a
place just outside of town. After a couple traversing sessions he showed me
a small overhanging problem near the top of one of the boulders. Wearing a
pair of borrowed PA's I launched into a series of moves that were ingrained
in my body's mind since I was a child. I reached high with my left hand,
into a vertical crack where my fingers magically locked-off, allowing me to
pull with all my strength. It felt completely natural to me. I was able to
get my right foot next to my right hand and in one swift motion I pulled
over the lip of the small overhang. For a second I could not hear Keith's
adulation's from the ground. I was over taken but this incredible feeling of
joy. I do not know how else to explain it. I was somehow transformed to a
different place. A place where I was meant to be, time has proven this to be
true.
Joy.
How simple a word; joy. At the young age of eighteen years I was over come
with it. The smile that graced my face for the rest of that entire day was
clearly evident. It was so recognizable.