Being a Gay Climber
My dirty, sandal-tanned feet skipped across the rocks and gravel of the Pit Campground, alongside the impressive Sierra Nevada range in Bishop, Calif. It was very early in the morning, and hardly anyone was awake. One of the boys from the Nova Scotia crew saw me grinning from ear to ear, as I did the “walk of shame,” from her Toyota Previa to my wind-mangled tent. He put together the answer to his question, “Where are you coming from?” as he asked it and gave me an excited high five. She was from Colorado, a crusher, on a trip across the western climbing hot spots, had a great dog, and a beautiful smile. A true gem. Everyone thought she was a hottie, and of all the dirtbags to choose from, she had set her eyes on for some reason. I grabbed some breakfast, and sat down with a fresh cup of coffee, still psyched about my luck. Naturally, unicorn encounters are rare; I had recently told my best friend that such creatures probably didn’t exist. Less than a one per cent probability, for me, as I had actually calculated. Now here I was, late 20s, a lone wolf cruising against the strong current of a heterosexually romantic mainstream.
Who can’t relate, really? We are participants in a (still) relatively niche sport/activity that makes us resist complacency and living a “normal life.” Almost every climber that I know has had their fair share of dealing with the complexities of dating, relationships, and commitment, intertwined with another world of adventure, travels, irresponsibility, and sometimes ending in solitude. Finding that special someone who understands this lifestyle, and maybe even shares it with you, is rare.
On many occasions, I have felt like the worst possible contestant on what with the sea of strong, driven, smart, and (often) available guys that I end up meeting and climbing with. Oh, how my romantic life would be so simple if I could just be straight. As I have spent a better part of the past 10 years figuring out how to accept myself as I am, I feel fortunate to live a fairly un-stereotypical life. I don’t own “rainbow pride” things, except hopefully one day, in the way of a trad rack. By statistical default, I have often had to awkwardly explain to guys that wanted to “belay” me, or “spot” me on problems, that I was not interested in them that way, but rather probably looking for the same thing as they were. As I have eventually come to being comfortable in my own skin, my strange situation is just something that I live with, and I am learning through the process. Meeting girls feels nearly impossible for me, and unfortunately relationships are even more complicated. Some might say, cruxy.
Since I spend most, if not all of my free time climbing (with 99 per cent straight friends), it is really diff icult for me to make connections with any potential ladies from gay communities. I tried to fit into that community in the past, but I never felt like I was a part of the group, something felt wrong; ironically I feel most comfortable when I am outdoors, working on boulder problems, scared on a sport climb, or terrified on traditional routes. Living in a climbing mecca town of less than 20,000, my odds now feel even smaller. I have resorted to online dating, coercing my friends to be my “wing-people” at gay bars, but truthfully, I feel overwhelming comfort after a satisfying day of rock climbing.
Despite these minor challenges, I remain hopeful. While there are so many people out there that still struggle with the process of coming out of the closet, I feel so fortunate to have found my own great world of friends that share a real passion for adventure, climbing experiences and enjoying the simple things in life. Although I have had my share of personal and social challenges, I feel comfortable with myself these days. My friends have been very receptive and accepting when I have come out to them, and I know that I am lucky to have such a supportive surrounding. While the U.S. has finally acknowledged gay marriage as a human right (years after Canada), and civil legislations provide hope for social acceptance, I can attest that coming out is still not an easy chapter in a person’s life, despite massive strides in the past few decades. There are many people out there who get bullied, humiliated, and are prone to living a shitty life, simply because of the way that they love, and that sucks.
I feel really lucky that I have encountered mostly accepting attitudes and relationships with members of the climbing community from coast to coast. Climbing has also taught me to come up with my own beta, and I don’t want to live a life defined by my sexual orientation. My personality, my passion, my dreams, and my contributions to the world should be the things that define me as a person. I also happen to be a climber who loves to travel, go on adventures, and I’m trying to foster an attitude that anything is possible. Those are the real things within my life and my climbing community that I want to be truly proud of.
Gripped.