Is He Any Good?

Fun Rating: Fun, in a sad way.

I have a hunch that regular readers, if there are regular readers of this blog, would not be surprised to find out that there’s something a little wrong in my head. “What?!” Others might ask, “the guy trying to repeat all of Joe Herbst’s first ascents isn’t a perfect example of mental health and proper coping mechanisms? Shock! Horror! Gasp!”

Hey, is he any good?

Yes, yes, I know I present as a very balanced and buttoned-up guy in these shortform essays about rock climbing, but mental health is something I’ve struggled with pretty much my entire life. I don’t think it’s a coincidence that I have dedicated so much time to climbing, a hobby where suffering and misery are not only expected, they are often celebrated. Simply look to the descriptions of big alpine objectives and see how much time is spent describing the conditions of their bivouacs, the running out of food and fuel, the razor thin margins of being able to make it home. Mark Twight, for example, made an entire writing career out of wading through that misery and putting it to paper so others could follow in his footsteps from the comforts of their home.

Is he any good?

I do not like snow, or ice, or cold enough to put myself into those positions in the alpine. There but for the grace of God, amirite? Instead, I have sought out the types of climbing that people typically make disgusted faces at. Fun overhanging climbs on big holds with nice falls into air? Not for me, no sir. Runout cheese grater slabs and toothy offwidths? Now you’re speaking my language. There are definitely positives to being this way. I rarely have to wait in line to get on the climb I’ve targeted for the day. I often get to be the first person to post a photo of a route on mountain project. I have gained some little infamy in the local climbing community as “the Herbst guy”. Not all bad, for sure.

Yeah, but is he any good?

The negative, however, comes from the fact that I frequently find myself in situations asking “why am I here and what the fuck is wrong with me?” This is a difficult question to answer in the best of times, and thus far I have not found an answer on the sharp end. I think it’s mainly because there is such a plurality of things that are wrong with me it’s difficult to lay the blame on any one in particular. My internal monologue is…chatty, and difficult to ignore. I speak to myself conversationally, both in my head and aloud, quite frequently. I think this is a pretty weird thing to do, despite knowing that there are other people who chat with themselves like this, but generally I find it soothing. There is one phrase that I can’t seem to escape, however, a sort of reverse mantra in the sense that it doesn’t actually do anything positive for me:

Is he any good?

This internal question is always framed as if it were coming from a third party. Someone asking my subconscious “is he any good?” with the second part of the phrase always unsaid, “at climbing, at his job, at being a husband, etc.” I wish I could say that my internal response is usually a solid affirmative, or enthusiastic yes of some kind. Unfortunately, it is almost always “yeah he’s alright.” Jack of all trades and master of none, better than being a master of one, or so the cliche goes right? Hard to feel like that’s enough sometimes, being “alright” at everything instead of being spectacular at anything in particular. I have friends that are so strong and so brave and while I know the old saying goes “comparison is the thief of joy,” I find myself unable to avoid that. My friend Colin can climb 13 slab, my friend Zak can be 25 feet runout on crispy face and feel fine, my friend Cecilia can climb v7. What can I do? I can climb wide 5.9+. Yeah, he’s alright. I can climb 5.11 sport. Yeah he’s alright. I have enough technical skills to keep myself safe while rebolting or top rope soloing. Yeah, he’s alright. Just alright.

Is he any good?

Not really? The frustrating thing for me is that I don’t even have a solid metric for what being “any good” would mean. As I continue in my climbing career, as I climb more stuff and “progress” the metrics involved in being “any good” continue to change and move beyond where I see myself. Everyone in Vegas climbs 5.12 so if I’m not doing that then I’m not any good. Everyone in Vegas climbs v6, so if I’m not doing that then I’m not any good. Everyone in Vegas can go do the Original Route, so if I can’t then I’m not any good. Intellectually, I know that’s not the case. I see what climbs are crowded and where the majority of people end up in their climbing journey, but I can’t seem to actually make that stick with how I feel.

Placing gear on Arch Arrival in the creek.

Is he any good?

I heard a term recently called “normalization of deviance” which, at a high level, describes the phenomenon in extreme sports of danger being dismissed because so many people are doing dangerous things. I think that this can be applied to climbing in general when you live in an outdoor recreation area. The more people you talk to that are going to the Secret 13 wall, the more people you see working The Great Red Roof, the easier it is to dismiss the multitude of climbers that don’t ever move past mid 5.10. I remember when I thought that doing 5.10 on gear was a goal, an achievement, something to work toward. Now I am disappointed if I struggle on any given 5.10, and feel like being able to climb 5.11 on gear would be that same level of achievement. Whenever I do, I imagine the same phenomenon will occur and the goalposts will shift once more. It can never be enough because I can never be enough. I know myself in the darkness of my heart, and I know that I am NOT any good and can never be.

Is he any good?

Does it really matter? In the end whether other people, or even myself, think that I’m any good at…well anything isn’t really important. I’m not advocating for self-destructive nihilism, but nothing has any intrinsic value, so we are forced to find value in things for ourselves. I still find value in climbing in my own average to below-average way, and so I will continue climbing. I still find value in the JHAT, and so I will continue scraping my way past scrub oak and wide pods. I still find value in quiet moments at a belay station while my partner is following the pitch I led, and so I will continue seeking that peace. If the time comes that I don’t find value in these things, I will seek value elsewhere. Perhaps that’s something that I’m actually good at. Perhaps my skill is in assigning value to inherently useless things, and using those to find fulfillment in what time I have on Earth.

Me on top of something in Elephant Rocks

Is he any good?

I don’t know and it probably doesn’t matter, but I’m still here and I’m still climbing and I’m still breathing and loving and experiencing things. That’s good, at least. Stay tuned for more JHAT writeups that are inherently useless but hopefully enjoyable in spite of that. I’m going to keep writing them anyway because no one can stop me!

I invite you to imagine me cackling evilly as I fade into the distance.

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