As much as I may dislike the ticks here, I share a kind of kinship with them that I cannot deny. For I, too, am a parasite of sorts. Like a tick, I hang around at the bottom of the Skaha Bluffs, waiting for a group of climbers to pass by. When conditions are right, I latch onto them and follow them around all day, draining their rope time and climbing gear. And when they are spent, and it is time for them to move on, I drop off and find a new host.
Being a singleton at a crag is a bit awkward, because ideally you need someone to belay you when you climb. Being a singleton at a crag with no rope or quickdraws is extra awkward, because when you do meet up with other people you need to use their equipment, otherwise you have no safety system and any fall will mean an ungraceful tumble to the ground and probable death or dismemberment. To further complicate matters, any other solo dirtbags that end up in the area are also unlikely to have a rope or quickdraws, so not only is it impossible to team up with them to climb, but they're also out there competing for potential climbing partners.
I have, therefore, developed a number of strategies for trying to find host climbing groups to latch on to. The most difficult constraint that I face in finding climbing partners is that I'm absurdly spectacularly Anglo, and I can not bring myself to simply ask people if I can climb with them. This isn't even as rude as it sounds, because often people are in odd-numbered groups, and an extra person will make even numbers, and that means maximum climbing efficiency (because this type of climbing happens in pairs - one person to climb and another to belay). So there are groups who would actually benefit from me joining them.
But I am much too Anglo to ask to climb with strangers. Given that this direct and simple path to climbing is taken, I adopt a more circuitous route.
If I'm looking for a new host to climb with, my work starts as soon as I arrive in the car park. As soon as I park the car I strive to look competent enough that no one will think I'll slow them down, but not so bad-ass that people will be intimidated. Admittedly, avoiding the latter concern is easy. My main strategy for the former condition is wearing my shoes without socks. Shoes-without-socks says "I'm completely comfortable in this environment." in a way that is neatly complemented by "toque/beanie-without-jumper" which has also proven to be a winner. Then, I check the noticeboard where people who are looking for partners will write their contact details, and on my way out of the car park I make eye contact with and chat to anyone who'll look at me.
Of course, I never actually find partners in the car park. But that's not the point. The point is to let people know that I'm around, and that I'm the kind of guy who will walk around their crag in shoes without socks. I also like to open all the doors of my van to make it absolutely clear that I'm living in it, which gives me all kinds of dirtbag chic.
With my round of the car park complete, it's time to walk down the main access track into the climbing area, which goes past a number of popular cliffs. Again, I am sure to make eye contact with and at least greet everyone I see. This is another chance to let people know that I'm mooching around. If I see a group of more than two climbers, I usually hang around and casually watch them climb in a way that I sincerely hope doesn't look creepy. If they make anything more than the most fleeting form of eye contact, I drop some cool questions like "What climb is that?" or "Are you comfortable wearing socks like that?" or something equally aloof but also approachable. I'm trying to give the impression that I'm cool enough to have friends, but not so keen on those friends that I'd turn down a chance to go climbing that to actually see them. This is made more difficult by the somewhat intrenchable fact that I don't have any friends, but I try not to make that obvious.
Hopefully, at this point someone in the group will think "Wow, I want to see if that guy without socks still wears his toque/beanie while climbing." (Which, if it's cold, I do. It's like a poor man's helmet.) Then they'll offer me a chance to climb. This is where I pull out my best moves.
It's important not to seem too eager, or they'll get the impression that I'm a desperate loner. I must cover that fact up at all costs, because everyone hates desperate loners. I usually say something like "Sure, but I don't want to take up your rope time if you're in a rush." which doesn't make any sense at all, but it seems to put folks at ease. So far, everyone has responded to this approach favorably, and I've ended up climbing quite a lot. Once I latch onto a group, I can climb with them for several days. So far no one has tried to ditch me or hide from me, so I guess I'm doing something right.
Of course, not all of my climbing hookups have come about in this way. I've met some people in the campsite, and one of my most successful parasitic episodes came when someone mistook me for a friend of theirs and I ended up climbing with a group of Calgarians for several days. Unfortunately, hanging around looking like other people's friends is not a viable long-term strategy.
Actually, now that I think about it, I'm so Anglo that many times I don't even have the courage to speak to people about what they're climbing. Sometimes I just peruse the climbing guidebook (to make it obvious that I'm a climber, rather than out walking my dog) and wait for people to talk to me. I still play it cool though, so I guess that's OK.
I'd better head back to the campsite, because tonight (or maybe tomorrow morning) I'm going to get a shower. Also, last night I slept near a lookout next to the highway and a strange, well dressed lady with a nice car spent ages rummaging around in a bin, then rummaging in the back of her car, and then woke me up by walking around my van at midnight shining a light inside to see what was there. It was one of the most baffling episodes of my life, which has contained probably more than its fair share of baffling moments. I would have asked her what she was doing, but when I woke up because a torch was being shone in my eyes I blurted "Hello? What?" and the lady made an incomprehensible excuse and very quickly got in her car and drove away. So perhaps $7.50 to spend the night in a campsite is not such an unreasonable price.
No comments:
Post a Comment