Rex Upshaw on his Departure from Climbing, Part 1

Rex Upshaw is no stranger to hard climbing. His list of first ascents is impressive including the classic Blues for Lillian (5.14b) in Excelsior Gorge. But word of his departure from climbing spread like wildfire, and I had to find out for myself. I caught up with Rex at his home in Gunnison, Colorado. I found him to be genial, welcoming, and possessed of an agile mind. He ushered me through to his deck, bringing out some beers for each of us.

I asked why he’d taken such an abrupt turn away from climbing. With a laugh, he began, “It started with the simplest realization that whenever I was on a new route, or projecting a difficult line, I invariably sought to make it easier. We all do it, actually. We look for a better way to grasp a hold, or use our feet, or a better sequence of moves, better beta. We look for rest points and love it when we get a no-hands knee bar and a good shakeout. We shout advice up to our partners to help them through. There’s something within us that wants to make it easier, while at the same time we drive our selves to apply this principal in harder and harder settings, on more and more difficult routes. It’s the strangest contrast, yet it’s familiar to climbers everywhere, in the gym, at the crag, big walls, alpine climbing. You name it.”

“Sure,” I said. “We all do that. I guess I’m not seeing what the realization was.”

“I know. It took me months to realize what it meant, why it’s important. It’s this. We don’t actually want to climb hard. We want to climb easier. It’s written in our DNA.”

He just sat looking at me with a grin, waiting for me to absorb this. “You’re serious?” I asked.

“You can sense the thought, can’t you? It’s there in your mind trying to come forward but you’re resisting it. I see this all the time. Some people feel physically ill. Most people don’t want to face this in themselves. It feels horrible at first, like something corrupt or ghastly - a betrayal of some higher value that’s been unquestioned and shared by all. But I’m telling you its true. We actually don’t want to climb hard.” He watched me, taking a pull from his beer.

He was right about my feelings. My mind was reeling. I actually did feel a little sick in my stomach. I wanted to end the interview right then. Flee from this madman. There was an element of truth to it that seemed unsettling and inescapable, yet disturbingly convoluted. At the same time the bit about making it easier was certainly true enough, lending skewed credence to the idea. But I rallied. I had climbed my share of hard routes. I’d paid my dues for a thousand great memories, and was ready to stand up for hard climbing. I owed it to myself at the least, and the climbing community as well, I thought.

“So you think that just because we make it easier when we’re trying something hard, that means we don't actually want to do hard things?”

His reply was swift. “If you want to do hard things, why do you always try to make them easier?” He paused. Filling the gap I left him, he continued. “Look, I know you’ve done a lot of alpine climbing. I haven’t done that much. I’m more of a rock climber, but the principal still applies. I’ll ask you, on your last trip, what were you working on?”

How did he put me on defense so quickly? Hardly aware I was, I answered, “We went to the Brooks Range for the second ascent of North Spur Direct.”

“What’s it like?”

“Well it starts with a lower bench of steep granite. You can’t really begin the route proper without getting up that. But there’s a...” I stopped. I was going to say cleft. I felt outmaneuvered. It was unnerving.

“A what? A crack system? A corner? See, it’s always something. We all do the same thing. No, no! Don’t feel ashamed! We all do it. But I bet if that lower bench were a wall in Yosemite it would have a score of routes on it. It’s universal - over and over, we choose something hard but make it as easy as we can. We all know it’s true. The real question is why we’re uncomfortable admitting it. I think its because we don't really want to climb hard stuff, but we are driven to it by other things.”

I pushed back. “OK. I admit we try to make hard stuff easier. But we do that in the rest of life as well. We make things more efficient and I’d say there’s a sense of accomplishment when we do so. So when we climb hard stuff we get the accomplishment of climbing hard, and also the added accomplishment of figuring out the best way to do it, which might be the only way.”

“That’s mostly true, although I would say that the way we solve some problem on the rock should scarcely be regarded as the only way. We can’t really trust ourselves to have found the only way when we have such a natural tendency to take the easiest way. But look, I take joy in the things I’ve been able to climb. I’m not trying to rob people of that. But what we’ve been talking about so far is just the first thought, the entry point into the rest of the idea. I said I think we are driven to climb hard by other things. There are three things really. The first is obvious, the desire to accomplish something ‘Because it’s there’. That has it’s own reward in our hearts and minds and is a great driver of accomplishment and endeavor in people. But it’s actually not a universal urge. There are many cultures in which ‘Because it’s there’ isn’t reason enough to do anything. It’s even seen as a reason not to do something. So this has some cultural roots we probably don’t understand very well, and I’m not claiming to be an expert in that. All I’m saying is that it’s curious that at the same time we are embracing an arbitrary self-assigned challenge we are obviously trying to minimize its difficulty. It’s paradoxical if you think about it.”

I admitted it was the case but still felt bewildered. This was foreign soil. Buying time for myself, I said, “Ok, so what are the other two reasons?”

“Obviously peer pressure and prestige work into it to a great degree. That comes out of pride. I’m not going to dwell on that because I think we can easily see it in our own lives. We like our accomplishments to be known. It doesn’t mean we’re shouting them from the rooftops. Sometimes it’s only with those close to us. But still the urge is there. We want to be thought well of, and for our victories to be celebrated. It takes someone else knowing what we did for us to gain that, so we make sure they know. Very few people climb and tell nobody whatsoever what they did.”

“But the third reason is the worst. We’re driven to climb hard by the Climbing Industrial Complex. That’s what I call it. It’s the whole corporate thing to make money off us, like every other sport. At the top of that heap are the gear companies. They make money off selling the appeal of climbing hard. Their advertising pushes this image of people doing hard stuff and they sell you the idea you can be one of them, or at least be seen that way in some circles. They sponsor the best climbers, who also obviously try to make their hard climbs as easy as they can be, and promote themselves in the process. From there it feeds into the videos and films, the travel vans and vehicles. Then you have your exercise equipment and fitness gurus, internet sites and destinations. At the bottom you have the sports medicine folks helping clean up the messes from all this. They all have a stake in it. None of them profit by helping you realize that’s not what you actually want to do. That’s the last thing they want. The sports medicine folks actually depend on you getting hurt for their livelihood. It’s sick. My sponsors dropped me in a heartbeat when I decided to be vocal about this. You wouldn't believe how fast that happened. But when I saw what was really going on I couldn't keep quiet any more. I actually feel ashamed for having been a cog in that machine for as long as I was”

This was novel, yet not unparalleled. “The Climbing Industrial Complex. I’ve never heard it called that. All right. I see what you mean about how we climb. And that we rationalize making it easier while we’re also pursuing something hard. But I think people take inspiration from people that have accomplished great things. You quoted Mallory. He inspired the world with his attempts on Everest, and that quote has challenged countless people to do amazing things, and became a cultural waypoint if you will. Do you discount that and all the other great moments of climbing?”

“Not at all. Mallory, Hillary, Messner, Robbins, Bachar, Gulich, The Lowe brothers, Lynn Hill. All these people and the many that came before and after have done amazing things. I’m just saying that the tendency we have to make things easier says something about something deep inside us that can be instructive for us, and set us free in certain ways.”

“And what’s that?”

---Continued---

Rex Upshaw on his Departure from Climbing, Part 2

“I don't think I can speak for everyone, but for me, setting myself free from the Climbing Industrial Complex to the extent I have has been incredible. I still get out from time to time. I just don't buy their overall sales pitch any more, and I’m not part of their machine. I mean I’m glad they came up with great gear to keep people safer. That helps keep the sports medicine people hungry, which is a good thing in my view. But at the same time, they’ve guaranteed those same people a livelihood by promoting climbing in the ways they do.”

“But I should back up. That’s more of an outcome than the essence of what I’ve come to believe, which is freeing in it’s own right. The urge to make things easier for ourselves is as deep rooted as the need to survive or reproduce. It is genetic in the same way as our other survival instincts. There’s no getting away from it. In life it’s essential to choose the easy way because it's a survival skill built into us, and really all life. It’s efficient, but oddly can also end up in us going about some things in a less safe manner, like cleaning out the gutters without forethought about safety

Glancing up, his gutters looked fine.

He went on. “But when we apply that to our leisure pursuits, there’s something a little grotesque about it. It’s like we are fooling ourselves. We have this drive to accomplish things, which really comes from the reward system we used to get from foraging for food or getting the kill that would feed our family or tribe. We still get a little of that from our ordinary lives, but with the global standard of living and food security we have, we don't really receive much from that reward system any more. So we seek it elsewhere.

“But here’s the thing. When we seek that reward elsewhere we do so voluntarily. We choose some pursuit. We’re not there to feed our family or survive. It’s completely optional. There are a million things people do. For us it’s climbing. So we go climbing and bring that instinct to make things easier with us. We choose a hard route and make it as easy as we can. It’s like we are hard wired to shortchange our reward system. It’s weird, and once you see it, it’s hard to see it in a good light. I know not everyone agrees."

His logic baffled me, yet I couldn’t find the holes quickly enough, and he was relentless. He went on.

“But look what it makes us do. Just making an observation from your story – and I’m not being critical here. Really, I’ve spent years doing the same thing in my way – You picked the easiest way up the lower bench. Well, that was the route. You were there for the second ascent of the route and that was the route. What you didn’t do is just look at the cliff and ask yourself ‘What do I really want to climb? What looks good to climb, no matter how hard or easy.’ And if you had focused on that, fully aware of your natural tendency to take the easiest way, how would it have changed your goals?”

I gave this some thought with a dawning feeling I was the one being interviewed. “Well, I think by the time we got there, there wasn’t really a choice. It takes two days just to get there from the plane. So I wasn’t in a position to extend the trip or think about it in any other way. We had a certain amount of time and food. But I get your point. You're saying this awareness should make us more conscious of what we are doing, since its entirely optional from the start.”

“Exactly. As these thoughts evolved I just looked at the rock differently. I looked at a rock and I asked myself what I wanted to do. I mean I really studied the rock, even with binoculars, and I thought about where I wanted to go, where I wanted to be, and what kind of experience I wanted to have in which I didn’t compromise in any way. The purity of the experience has become paramount for me. I mean, how can I face myself if I accept my inclination to make it easier when it is entirely optional that I’m there in the first place, right? It took me weeks to work through these ideas and I didn’t really climb during that period. I had to figure out where all this was going. But when I reached this conclusion that it had to be pure, I had to go and find out what that meant in practical terms.”

“So I started back by bouldering. Bouldering has always had a purity about it in the sense that there is minimal gear and the objective is as simple as it can get. Well that was a bust because as soon as I walked up to the rock I put my hand on the most obvious hold. I chose the easy way without even thinking about it. I left in disgust.

“But I came back. I sat and looked at the rock, trying to answer the questions, what did I want to do, how could I do it with purity. This happened for a few days, and I really struggled. If I so much as put my hand on the rock to climb it, my innate tendency to make it easier leapt up in me. As soon as I touched it, I was trying to make my grip better, which always seemed like finding the easiest way to use it. It seemed inescapable, and at the same time, corrupting. So I backed off again. It needed more thought.

“I realized in the end that there was no element of climbing that didn't involve making it easier for myself. It is inherent in the sport and I haven’t seen anything that says differently. So as a chosen endeavor to feed my internal rewards system, it is deeply and irretrievably flawed. I had to stop. Whatever I do it needs to be pure, and climbing isn't pure.”

With this he finished his second beer. Even talking so much he had managed to down two of them. I was still on my first. “So you gave up climbing.”

“Turned away from climbing is more precise. But yes. I stopped climbing because it no longer offers me any rewards. It’s inherently corrupting and corrosive to the soul.”

“So what will you do instead? There are plenty of rewarding things you could do.”

“But can I do them purely? I don’t know. I’ve tried a few things but I’m seeing the same dynamics. There’s an industrial complex for all of them of course, which isn't really surprising, but the biggest issue is the purity we bring to it, that the reward be genuine, untainted. I’m still looking for the answer to that. But for sure, climbing isn't it.”

“So in what way are you free? You seem trapped in an impossible dead end of your own making. You’ve given up climbing which was a passion of yours for years. I don’t see freedom in this.”

“I’m far freer than I was because I’m no longer a slave to impulses within me that have no place in my leisure pursuits. I’m free to refuse my most animal instincts and seek purity of experience instead. And I’m free of the industrial complex. That seems like a good trade to me."

I wasn’t so sure. There was something there but the convoluted logic stumped me, and judging by the number of beer bottles everywhere, I wasn’t convinced he was onto anything good. As if to cement this thought he offered me another, but it was time to go.

Interesting read, but curious -- who is this guy?  Why isn't his FA on MP/or mentioned anywhere else?

Seems pretty easy to stay away from the industrial complex so it seems more like he has no control over how he behaves and doesn't like it.  Fair enough.  But good luck finding anything else in life that will provide all the same rewards as climbing without getting into the same conundrum.  Or just sit on your ass and watch other people do it.

Interesting read. I never thought about it from that perspective but I do enjoy climbing more when not close to my limit and have never felt any desire to project hard climbs. Climbing harder is more about ego/bragging rights than enjoyment and many can get caught up in the never ending cycle of pushing your limits higher until physical failure. Hopefully just short term and not mid or long term physical failure.

 I think Rex also gives us some insight as to why surfing is so much more fun than climbing. Purity. Directly connecting to the powerful energy of a wave. Freedom to ride in your own style. Surfers are always searching for the funnest waves, not the hardest. The hard part is catching the wave or being safe in big surf. No one in concerned with rating the difficulty of hardness to catch or safety because it’s always changing. No one is chasing difficulty or rough conditions to prove themselves. Surfers chase a longer ride or more powerful wave or challenge themselves with tricks. All three are directly related to increasing the fun factor.

Climbers chasing higher grades may get an additional ego boost but are they having more fun? That’s where the purity is lost maybe?

Whatever the motivation the OP has in posting this, it resonates with me, as a climber for 22 years now. You simply can't get to this headspace without climbing for a long time.

I watched the Ondra/Honnold interview where they chat. Honnold says something like, "It's super impressive that you give 100% on these insanely hard route, but I don't like to give 100%. I like to give maybe 80 or 90%." And I was like, that's exactly me these days, age 45. Most of the time I'd rather lead a 5-9 crack that requires about 80%, where I can truly enjoy the moves without fear or danger, and feel some sense of mastery at the grade. Sure, sometimes I'll lead a 5-10 that requires close to 100% but once I do that, I don't need to lead a 5.10 crack for a while. I don't like to give 100%! 

And before, during, and after leading that 5.10 I am 100% positive I am NOT leading that route primarily for pleasure. No, I am stepping up to the artificial challenge ONLY for my ego, so I can look younger climbers in the eye and feel equal to their desire, to prove that I still take risks on routes that are not a sure thing and can give it 100%. I'm pretty aware I only lead at or beyond my limit for for external affirmation and to pre-emptively quell the inner thought/fear that I might be getting soft and out to pasture.

But there is a counterpoint: I bolted and led, for the FA, two 11d/12a routes this summer, even though I hadn't even tried leading more than 11a/b the past few years. I had to give 100%, I had to risk falls (I never even fell though), and I sent them both. And you what? My ego felt fucking awesome. Watching 20somethings fall on them felt almost as good as the sends. So I do feel conflicted, and always will, about giving 100% on totally contrived routes when giving 80% usually is often for me.... 

This is easily one of the worst takes on climbing I've ever heard.

The interview is basically a diatribe on why Rex is bitter about climbing and feels compelled by external forces to climb hard things.  Whether it be the "Climbing Industrial Complex" or "unknown societal factors", it just seems like he doesn't want to try hard.  Which... is fine?  Nobody is forcing anyone to climb hard, you either want to do it, or you don't.  If you cannot make that decision for yourself and have to outsource your desires/idea of enjoyment of an activity... maybe the activity isn't the problem.

Rex saying the whole point of climbing hard is actually making the climb easy is hilariously unprofound.  Yes, that is exactly what climbing is?  Why is that hard to admit?  It isn't, is the answer.  

Also, the notion that "you're trying to make a hard climb easy" somehow means that you don't want to do hard things is laughable?  It just means you don't want to do IMPOSSIBLE things. You aren't making a hard climb easy, you're making something previously impossible for you actually possible.  It's still a hard climb, you are still doing something that is hard, you still want to do something that is hard.

Once again, this all comes down to Rex not wanting to climb hard.  Nobody forced him to climb hard and yet he acts like a victim because he is unable to decide for himself what he does or does not want to do.

A worldly Scottish engineer I know once commented to me, 

"Americans are the best in the world at finding the easiest way to do a job, the absolute best in the world."

It took me a while to realize he was calling me lazy   

Reese Stanleywrote:

Rex saying the whole point of climbing hard is actually making the climb easy is hilariously unprofound.  Yes, that is exactly what climbing is?  Why is that hard to admit?  It isn't, is the answer.  

Also, the notion that "you're trying to make a hard climb easy" somehow means that you don't want to do hard things is laughable?  It just means you don't want to do IMPOSSIBLE things. You aren't making a hard climb easy, you're making something previously impossible for you actually possible.  It's still a hard climb, you are still doing something that is hard, you still want to do something that is hard.

My thoughts exactly.

Also related to the other point that's been brought up in this thread: if anything, going for "fun" and staying inside your comfort zone instead of tackling climbs that are challenging for you strikes me as taking the easy way (I disagree with Rex Upshaw that this is inherently bad - why would it be?). Sure ego may play a part. But lots of people i know (myself included) genuinely would rather try things that are "hard" than climbing at or below onsight level 100% of the time.  

Thank you Keith for putting a nice bit of creative writing on the internet for us to read and discuss.

This is some thoughtful writing and took some doing. I enjoyed the dialogue form. Stimulated some reflection, and reminded me of some people I know. Refreshing to see.

Make it easier? Obviously Rex has never climbed any Devils Lake contrived variations.

I think I pointed this out on the ebike thread, when accused of wanting to make everything less physical:

Getting a long hard sport route dialed is pretty much a matter of learning how to make all the moves in the least physical way, and then applying the minimum amount of power to each move. So in a sense good technique is the product of being lazy, or less physical as you put it. I started climbing in Kroenhoffers, but I wanted to make it less physical, so I got a pair of RR’s. Then PA’s, then EB’s, then Fires, then Anasazis - all to make climbing “less physical”

Funny text play…washup = upshaw

I think the OP poses a good question. Why do you climb? For recognition/ego or the simple joy of climbing? And what is that to you? The otherday 6 kids were working a route my friends and I put up last summer, was very cool seeing them have fun, satisfying.  Is the experience of climbing is good enough for you? 

How did he put me on defense so quickly? Hardly aware I was, I answered, “We went to the Brooks Range for the second ascent of North Spur Direct.”

“What’s it like?”

“Well it starts with a lower bench of steep granite. You can’t really begin the route proper without getting up that. But there’s a...” I stopped. I was going to say cleft. I felt outmaneuvered. It was unnerving.

“A what? A crack system? A corner? See, it’s always something. We all do the same thing. No, no! Don’t feel ashamed! We all do it. But I bet if that lower bench were a wall in Yosemite it would have a score of routes on it. It’s universal - over and over, we choose something hard but make it as easy as we can. We all know it’s true. The real question is why we’re uncomfortable admitting it. I think its because we don't really want to climb hard stuff, but we are driven to it by other things.”

This is actually one of the greatest pleasures of climbing to me--the unlocking of an objective by discovering its weakness. It feels very similar to the sensation of solving a hard math problem or a riddle. You can't figure out how a thing is done until you see it from the right angle or discover the key--whether it's the beta on a boulder or a couloir on a mountain--I'm honestly addicted to that sensation. So I guess his reasons for falling out with climbing wouldn't make much sense to me, but everyone has different reasons for going outside and touching rocks. 

Nice piece of writing, super fun! Don't care if it's fiction, spoof, or true, lol!

H.

There are often ways to make a route harder by intentionally taking an unknown interesting-looking variation.

This so has the markings of an absolute burnout trying to think critically.

Climb more, think less…! 

Thanks for ALL the feedback. It’s great.

So, Rex is not real. He’s completely fictional and not even based on anyone. I wrote it trying to have some fun with the idea of making hard climbing easier. His views are asinine, but as I followed them out I felt like a few interesting things emerged so I kept going. His descent into beer-soaked pseudo-philosophy was fun to write, as was the lunacy it led to. I had hoped that the reactions of the narrator early in the interview would tip folks off that it was fiction, but I didn’t want to overplay that. I’m glad many of you enjoyed it and found it thought provoking.

To my knowledge there is no such route in the Brooks Range, and there is definitely no 5:14b called Blues for Lillian. I just liked the sound of the name.

Credit to the following:

Reese Stanley for calling out how ridiculous Rex’s views are. You are correct, they are rotten and imbecilic.

Aaron Kolb for calling it on Rex

Weston Sandfort, the first to positively identify it as a creative writing piece and not a true account.

Pete S who noticed half of the wordplay in Rex’s name. It actually means King Washup, or more simply, Royal Loser.

Thanks everyone else for your feedback. Maybe I’ll try another some time.

@keith wood, nice job man. 

Knowing he is a character and not a real life salt field makes me like the interview more actually. I like the character a lot. Would be interesting to see what he goes on to do. 

tobias bundlewrote:

Knowing he is a character and not a real life salt field makes me like the interview more actually. I like the character a lot. Would be interesting to see what he goes on to do. 

He stands naked staring into the burning sun on a mound of glass shards...until he expires, because you know, sitting is making it easy, and so is flat ground.