The Pebble Wrestler
Having distilled climbing into a purely kinesthetic practice, the Pebble Wrestler insists that he has a unique, poetic relationship with the stone, one quickly belied by his bluetooth speakers, constant lamenting that all sends are “invalid salad” without “uncut footy,” and an endless compulsion to compare ape indexes with his bros. He’ll obsess for years on two 6 mm crimps and pass more time staring at fingertip skin, fretting over conditions, and brushing $30/ounce chalk off the holds than actually climbing. Unable to afford ropes and bored by belaying, Pebble Wrestlers tend to be of the younger variety. Although unfazed by sleeping on crashpads and sit-start groveling in the dirt, his patience for explaining to hikers why he’s carrying a “mattress” has drawn thin, so don’t even ask. His head might explode inside his beanie.