All posts in My thoughts

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.

I must admit that I’m feeling peer pressure.  Everyone else seemed to have a blog and I didn’t.  I built this site awhile ago, but I never felt like I had much to say.  Well, I probably  won’t ever have anything important to say, but I might as well blab.  So here you go….Blog Numero Uno.

1 YEAR

Today we hiked up to Tumalo Falls to catch a few colors (there were none because it’s in the pines).  Walking up I realized that exactly 1 year ago I moved to Bend.

(Technically, we didn’t actually move here until January, but let me explain)

The story goes like this….We lived in Flagstaff, AZ for about 10 years and it was fine.  It was “fine” in the same way that someone married to the same person waaay too long feels.  Their spouse is older and uglier, but not worth leaving (so we thought).  Increasingly dissatisfied, we spent an increasing amount of time away from home.  We said it was climbing trips, but really we were looking for a new spouse (a new town…get the analogy?)

Someone mentioned “Bend”, so we decided to check it out.  In October 2010 we came to Bend for 3 weeks to really evaluate it.  It was during that time that we knew it was an obligation that we move here.  In an extremely cheezy way of saying it….my heart moved to Bend, but we still lived in Flagstaff.

Since moving here I’m continually touched by the people and the places I come across.   Specifically, I am referring to the climbing community.  They are all so damn happy to be here and never forget it.  They’ve been more welcoming than any place I’ve been.  No egos, always psyched.  If any of the locals are reading….Thank you.