Building a Better Boulderer, Not Person
Over ten years ago, I was wandering around the Boulder Natural Area of Pawtuckaway State Park, somewhat lost and most certainly confused, in search of any problems on which I stood a chance of success when I first met Ron. He was an older gentleman, slight of build, with a beard, a ponytail, and everything about him—from the way he was dressed to the way he carried himself—giving off the unmistakable air of being a climber.
At the time, I was still new to climbing (even newer to bouldering), but I was psyched. And when I learned that less than two hours from home was Pawtuckaway, or P-Way, one of the Northeast’s premier bouldering destinations, I knew I would be visiting often. Having made a few trips to Pawtuckaway prior to meeting Ron, I had some lay of the land, but I still found myself struggling to find everything from how to get to the parking lot to where certain bouldering areas were to the locations of particular problems.
It was at one of many moments of perplexion when Ron introduced himself. He approached a friend and me on a quiet weekday as we confusedly stared at the old black-and-white guidebook, trying to make sense of where we were or where we were going. Ron casually mentioned that he had climbed at Pawtuckaway for years, and offered to give the two of us a tour of some of Pawtuckaway’s more beginner-friendly problems.
Both happy to be free from trying to decipher the guidebook and excited to get some local knowledge of P-Way, we gladly took Ron up on his offer. Although, I secretly thought that there was no way this old guy would last an afternoon climbing with us. Any question of Ron’s prowess was quickly dispelled. Ron moved almost effortlessly on the rock, with a grace that is only found with years of practice, and demonstrated a fluidity that clearly indicated he had done these problems many times over.
Following Ron, we moved through the boulders and sampled many of the park’s easier lines. Ron would always casually dispatch a problem on his first try, after which my friend and I would flail around before either getting lucky and sending, or getting our asses kicked and asking Ron if we could move along. Either way, Ron was happy to show us around, make small talk, and give us beta when we asked. He also dispelled my fears about him not being able to keep up, because I’m pretty sure we tired out before Ron was even warmed up.
Over the years, I have sporadically thought about that day with Ron, and I still marvel at the nonchalant way in which he climbed a problem that eludes me to this day. Because Ron seemed so familiar with Pawtcukaway, it has always surprised me that I never ran into him again—that is until I started going to a new climbing gym and saw the familiar beard, ponytail, and effortless style from across the bouldering cave.
Although Ron and I have inhabited the gym space for almost a year, our paths haven’t intersected. And, since I’m sure that the tour he gave my friend and me is just one of the numerous ones given to countless individuals over the years, I’m positive he doesn’t remember me, or it. But I do, and last week, for the first time since that fateful day years ago at Pawtcukaway, Ron and I found ourselves sharing space in the gym’s bouldering cave.
Nearing the end of my session, I was kicking back on the pads when Ron wandered into the bouldering area. In between tries on a short, slopery problem, I watched as Ron methodically warmed up, and listened intently as he chatted with his climbing partners. It seemed the “black problem” a reachy, powerful climb on the gently overhanging part of the cave had been giving him particular difficulty. I found this odd, because I was pretty sure I had onsighted the problem the previous day.
From the corner of my eye, I watched as Ron took a few burns on the “black problem,” and was surprised to see that he had barely made it more than a few moves off of the starting hold. In the back of my mind, I began to doubt my memory and wondered if I had indeed climbed the aforementioned problem. After a handful of tries, Ron moved on to other problems, at which time I snuck over and successfully climbed “the black problem” on my first try.
The ascent didn’t go unnoticed by one of Ron’s buddies, who called attention to it. It felt good! In my head, it felt like one of those moments in the movies when the student has become the master. Of course, when Ron asked for my beta to the start of the problem, I had to admit that, being at least six inches taller than him, I’m able to skip all the hard moves at the beginning of it (so much for my superior technique). Oh, and a few minutes later, I learned that Ron is now 72 years old (which, in my head, hasn’t diminished my achievement one bit).
By Tim Peck
