This is the essay I referenced before which was a reaction to the articles linked at the end.
A Thoughtful Pause for Hamburgers:
An Essay On My Own Hypocrisy And The Laments Of An Enthusiast
I would be lying if I wrote this without first admitting that I have been the beneficiary of that for which I am bitching. In fact, I am not sure I would have indulged in some of my most favorite activities so frequently, if ever, if it wasn’t for certain modern conveniences. After all, I am not some daredevil, adrenaline junkie. As a climber I am rather reticent and as a mountain biker I have the balance of a toddler on greased stilts. Needless to say, I have really benefited from a lot of “innovation” in these activities.
On the flip side, I recently read two articles about the “dumbing down” of both climbing and mountain biking as a consequence of “innovation.” Anyone that has spent any time around me is all too familiar with my like-minded diatribe. Usually I have a beer in the opposite hand from the one that I’m using to point my finger at everyone else (admittedly not wise). But even if it wasn’t for the liquid courage or the advent of talent bolstering technology, I like to think I would remain equally active and, furthermore, I would hold firm to this point of view: being outside, being in the mountains and deserts, exploring nature, should always keep the promise of a bold adventure.
Now having committed this opinion to paper, I can hear my climbing friends complain,
“I’ve watched you clip bolts.”
“You really enjoy a lot of top-roping at ice climbing parks for someone who is so stoked on adventure.”
“If you are such a bad ass then why don’t you climb more (or any) R/X rated routes?”
Fact of the matter is, I’m often chicken shit. I enjoy pulling the hardest moves that I possibly can with the security of a bomber bolt mere feet below the foot of my sewing machine leg. But I also marvel at the accomplishments of those before me who did it with so much less; those that accepted the challenge. So I will concede that adventure is measured with a sliding scale but I will also argue for preserving our most daring traditions in their purest form in the event, rare as it may be, that I grow a pair.
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| Hogum's Fork, LCC (2012) |
Mountain bikers as well, beware (and other enthusiasts too). You are in the midst of your own adventure crisis. Trails are changing at an alarming rate. Rides are being crafted to showcase how quickly people can mold the mountain to fit their style. I know because I have enjoyed a fair amount of resort riding. At times It is more of a roller coaster ride than a mountain bike excursion. It is a weird upending of aesthetics. Today the emphasis is on “the flow” of a rock-free berm that transitions into a hip jump over a gap into a seamless roll-out. And what about tomorrow? When I started mountain biking “the flow” was a babbling brook in some remote destination with the possibility of spying a moose. All of this meant that my weak ass had to push my sled up some insufferable, non-bike-specific grade followed by a descent down countless chattering baby heads capable of removing all of my dental fillings. Fuck if I had a serious mechanical problem because I chose to ride way in the hell out there ... but that was a big part of doing it.
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| Little Creek Mesa, UT (2012) |
Now I’m not some Neo-Luddite. My mountain bike is fully suspended and I love it. Those colorful cams are a welcome addition to my climbing rack. I am also not some holier-than-thou elitist although I am often accused of it. I know that I wax nostalgic about the “good ol’ days” yet at 40, I accept as a relative youngster that there are generations before me that are more nostalgic about better days than mine. I too believe in the remarkable up-and-coming talent out there engaging in much more athletic incarnations of my own passions. I even aspire to that kind of prowess as much as I yearn for adventure. Yet as we all grow in what we appreciate, we need to recognize the alarming pace at which things change. And why is it changing? To satisfy the expectations of some glossy magazine ad? Perhaps, but there is a noticeable lack of thoughtful pause.
Maybe this is just an updated John Henry story involving my own aging, egotistical views, but the more we depend on machinery and modernity in natural settings to do what we could have done without, the less we are a part of what we do.
So what the hell am I rambling about? Trail building machines? Bolt protection placed with power drills in remote destinations? Perhaps ski lifts where skiers never needed them? I suppose these are manifestations of my concerns but, at the heart of it, they point to a bigger qualitative difference and one, to some degree, that we will never get back.
So if I just wanted to eat a hamburger I could go to McDonald's. It’ll do the trick. It has a bun, meat(?), condiments, and a pickle. By most accounts it is a hamburger and it epitomizes all the luxury and convenience of modern living including speed, ubiquity, and the absence of flavor. But if I want to savor a burger, I should break out the grill and heat up the coals as I press a fat patty from good quality ground beef mixed with diced onions and green peppers and special seasoning. I should grill it slowly while I slice more fresh toppings and build it on top of a hearty whole grain bun. I should consider it and anticipate it. I will even remember it fondly as I suffer indigestion from a little too much special seasoning but that is just the risk I take. Sure it’s not the perfect burger and it is not for everyone ... but it is pretty damn awesome. Cheers!
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