Honor to the Dirtbags

I recently saw short documentary on Alf and it started thinking about Climbing Dirtbags.

A Desert Life from Austin Siadak on Vimeo.

I guess I’m really showing my age and sound like and old-foggey by talking about the “good-ol-days”, but I remember a time when the country was filled with dirtbag climbers roaming the deserts and mountains.

I really should offer a definition of “Dirtbag”.  It’s a term that easily thrown around but I reserve it for a few special people.  I think the true Dirtbag is someone who never has (nor never will) fit into regular society.  They may try to settle down for a few months.  Shacked up with some anosmiac female, or for some part time work.  But their true love belongs out climbing and chasing better weather.  They’re on the fringe part of society with plenty of skeletons in the closet.  Maybe a mild addiction to illicit substances.  Usually crusty and always dirty.

I have many fond memories of listening to their endless rants about what’s “REALLY GOING ON”.  I think that all that time alone in a tent or van has allowed them to figure out who’s really pulling the strings.  For example, Did you know that the government is controlling the weather at a top-secret weather station in Alaska.  They are in partnership with weather websites to effect driving habits (therefore driving up the price of oil for profit).  Awesome.

I hope that no one gets the impression that I am making fun of Dirtbaggers.  I have such deep respect for their commitment to the enjoyment of climbing.  Many of those I speak of will never be “great” climbers.  I’m in awe of their satisfaction of just going climbing.  They don’t need to climb 5.14 or get sponsorships.  They just want to be out there.

Here are the greatest living Dirtbags that I know of.  I’m sure there are many more, but these are the ones that come to mind.

Fred Becky

Fred Becky is undoubtedly the greatest Dirtbag of all time.  He’s an absolute legend.  He’s 130 years old, but looks much older.  He’s bat-shit crazy and hard as nails.  He has been climbing so long that it is deeply engrained into every muscle in his body.  I think he’s lost most of his cognitive abilities, but like an amputated lizard tail, he keep twitching his way up chossy 5.5′s all over the country.

Alf Randell

I first met Alf in Hueco many years ago and enjoyed running into him all over the southwest.  A lot of people warned me not to upset the Alf.  Alf is not fond of wimpy, soft, yuppy climbers like myself.  Although I was driving a Volvo hatchback I was able to befriend the Alf by serving a daily meal to him.  He is a kind soul that probably hasn’t changed his shirt in a decade.  He has a fondness for guns and isn’t afraid to use them.  He’s a true character.

Tom Grundy

Tom is really just a kid (relatively), but I expect great things from him.  He wanders around the country.  I used to see him a bunch in Maple, Flagstaff, and RRG.  He’s a good guy that’s committed to a long life of grungy living.

BTW, hoping to not offend anyone BUT….
I must say that just because you spend a few days or weeks at Miguels, grow some dreads, climb in tattered jeans, and wear a down jacket patched with duct tape, won’t make you a real Dirtbag.  You’ll return to a nice warm room and drive a relatively new hatchback.

Maybe it’s the price of gas, or the ease of a climate controlled climbing gym, but the era of the climbing Dirtbag may be starting to slide oblivion.  I don’t mean to take any of the blame off myself.  I drive a yuppy car, wear super-tech-hydro-ultra-light-shirts, and would rather get a vacation rental then sleep at a dirty parking lot.

Like the once admired “Ski Bums” that have gone extent, maybe the Dirtbag will be a thing of the past.  I hope not.