The Moment Climbing Became My Passion – Pain, Loss, and Self-discovery


This blog was originally published in ILooove.It

By Maricela Rosales

 

Growing up, I would never imagine that as a young adult I would say my passion is climbing. True Story! I grew up in the heart of Los Angeles California. I was born into a working class family that had no true exposure to the outdoors, physical activity, and healthy living. Anything that was related to the outdoors was a risk seen as avoidable. The youngest of two siblings I enjoyed that risk! Willing to climb on a tree, run as fast as I possibly could, and even find my way on top of the house. I was the adventure seeker. Yet, as I got older those motives were suppressed not because I was out of control but because life got in the way. Do you remember growing pains? I do. And they never went away. At the age of seven, I was diagnosed with structural scoliosis. Despite my love for running, jumping, climbing in the school yard I was in constant distress, fatigue, and on many occasions bed ridden. Physical pain became my worst enemy and my companion. Wearing a back brace for the majority of my life was quite the task. Despite my myoskeletal deformity I participated in many sports. I simply yearned to be active. I gave 100% of my effort knowing that my risk wasn’t what you would consider as normal. To miss school after a game, or a dance performance was something very frustrating and quite often. But I never gave up. However, my family feared that my chronic back pain would forever keep me from being the best at something. They always reprimanded me for putting myself in these situations and participating in physical activities. My parents agreed that I should stop before I really hurt myself, I refused. As the years passed it got worse and my weariness ever so prevalent. By this time my dad was battling colon cancer. He knew how stubborn I was and knew how my chronic pain affected me every day. He concerned himself with my activities and always wished my safe keeping. He reminded me to keep a clear head and strong heart. As I left for college I stopped playing sports and lost motivation. I pushed passed as much as I could everyday despite my physical woes.

My freshman year in college my dorm mate invited me to the student recreation climbing wall. I agreed with no true idea what I was going to partake in. Upon arrival my eyes dilated and my back began to ache. I said “Do people really climb that!? Is it safe? I’m wearing a what? Should I trust these college students with my life? I don’t think it’s good for my back” I mustered up the courage and tried it anyways. Peer pressure much, you bet! My body mechanics didn’t understand the concept of climbing a wall let alone know how to trust myself or my belayer. I talked to my dad about people climbing on this rock wall. He said “Es para locos y peligroso- It’s for crazy folk and its dangerous” After that day I didn’t go back. I refused to feel vulnerable and away from the ground and I agreed with my dad. I apologize.

Sophomore year I didn’t know what I loved anymore. I became dispassionate about being active. Was this the end? Was my physical disability going to get the best of me? It did. But by the end of my sophomore year I was ready to turn over a new leaf. I wanted to be strong emotionally and physically for my family especially for my dad who still was battling cancer. I sought out a job the Student Recreation center in hopes that I could find ways to stay active. I made sure my priorities were in order. I was hired to work for the Outdoor Excursions challenge course. The very rock wall that made me fear being up so high, and exposed made me a really safe belayer, a trustworthy individual, and I started to disregard the pain. I began to find my own sense of self.

Junior year I had to put a stop to this physical frustration. My decision to veer towards holistic medicine was one of the best choices I have done for my well being. I found one of the best chiropractors who overtime with many visitations and therapy aligned my center of gravity, reduced the amount of pain I went through, helped me build strength and I grew 4 inches! I was mastering pull-ups, testing my handstand skills and even began climbing at the local rock climbing gym. I slowly became fascinated with the idea of climbing. No longer was I winded, fatigued, or falling bed ridden. I wasn’t competing with anyone but myself, I started to feel physically stronger, my mind stop whizzing about pain and my everyday happenings. I also realized how supportive climbers were; this made me feel comfortable and eager to try more than once on the same problem. Climbing humbled my state of mind and really pushed me to take an appropriate risk even in my daily life. Though I wasn’t climbing full heartily I was very interested. Because of my new found hobby I had a long talk with my dad about climbing; showing him videos and pictures, talking about it like it was the boy of my dreams. From the moment I mentioned taking up the sport for fun he thought it was maddening and feared for my safety. He did see that seeking alternative medicine, and climbing was changing me. He was happy to see me stand tall, be able to pull myself up and lift. By this time he was terminally ill and in hospice.

One cold December day I meet Natalie Duran at the challenge course. Her enthusiasm entices me to venture with her and the rock climbing club to Bishop California. “Happies? Buttermilks? What’s that?” I said. Unaware of any true specifics I say yes before she can even explain! Out of pure excitement I tell my dad my plans for the holiday break. He is uneasy but knows that I will go anyways. I promise that I would come back in one piece. He bids me goodbye and request pictures be taken. Well, when I arrived at the Buttermilk’s it changed me. It was my first outdoor experience. The cold crisp air on my face, the east sierra mountain tops covered with snow and seeing people climb boulders for the first time was simply joyful. Something only you can experience firsthand. To appreciate the stillness of Mother Nature and learn so much from its stillness. T’was beautiful. I call my dad and explain to him what Bishop is like. He sounds like he’s in a lot of pain but is happy to hear I am enjoying myself and of course in one piece. I head home with a new found passion. I couldn’t wait to tell my family. They’ll think I’m nuts. My dad’s reaction will of course will be a conservative one.

It is now February and my intuition is telling me that the end is near. But I deny that my dad is terminally ill. He notices that I stopped talking about climbing and wonders if I am still going strong. “Estas escalando Maricela, tienes fotos para compartir? “Are you climbing Maricela do you have photos to share?” I let him know that I had placed climbing on the back burner because I want to spend every moment I can with him. He asked me for one final request to take him out somewhere even though he wasn’t allowed to leave home. I decided to take him to Mad Rock which is not far from my parents residence. I lift him and carry him to my car and off we go. As we wait in the showroom to be helped my dad begins to look at the climbing photos on the wall, the hardware, and the shoes. He taps the crash pads and ask if they’re sleeping mats. I smile and tell him all about climbing. As we wait for my order to be processed he sits me down and caresses my callus hands and says “Tu escalando ha sido lo mas feliz que habia visto en tu vida por favor no deja de tus pasiones – You climbing has been the happiest I have ever seen you in your life please do not let go of your passions.” I began to tear. I had been waiting for this moment all my life to finally be just within myself. And to have my dad support me even when things weren’t happy and dandy.

Three weeks later I call my dad on my way to San Diego to climb at Mesa Rim he tells me in an endearing tone “Escala fuerte te amo-Climb Strong I love you.” that same day my dad left this earth. He left me with the most powerful words that motivate me every day. My true motivation for climbing comes from the strength of my father who battled cancer for 5 years. Maintained his cool until the very end and supported me even when he was at his weakest. Since then my climbing is passionate, forgiving, and humbling. I want to thank my friends, family, and the climbing community for helping during my darkest hour. This is an uplifting experience. If you have one love one.

With Kind Regards,

 

Latino Outdoors Visits D.C. Public School by Nydia Gutiérrez

Earlier this month I had the honor of visiting Washington, D.C.’s Capital City Public Charter School to chat with Ms. Royse’s high school urban ecology class. As the class is currently covering birds, we took a brief birding trip to National Parks Service: Fort Slocum Park which is a short walk over from campus. We started the visit with a meet and greet over lunch (thanks class!). We went around the table to share a bit about ourselves, for example as the students are seniors, they shared their college and future goals. It was extremely inspiring to hear from the students, and the conversation reminded me of my college journey. I explored collegiate track options early on, and with help from mentors I discovered my desired path by way of Environmental Science.  I knew one thing– I wanted to be a steward of the outdoors, which lead me to ornithology and birding.

Students birding 2

While out birding at Fort Slocum Park, we split into 2 groups. The first group spotted plenty of action in the park with these birds enjoying an early spring morning, Palm Warbler, Red-bellied Woodpecker, Ruby-crowned Kinglet, Carolina Wren, Eastern Towhee and White-throated Sparrow. While my group spotted the “usual suspects,” American Robins, European Starlings and House Sparrows, we also encountered a Northern Brownsnake along a trail which reminded us of the food chain and the park’s ecosystem, bird food!

We shared with the students that listening for the bird calls, particularly in the spring, can help the birder identify the species when not in visual range. In these woody areas you can often hear the teakettle-teakettle song at a distance from the male Carolina Wrens. We also shared interesting behaviors some bird’s exhibit. For example, the Brown-headed Cowbird is infamous for laying its eggs on another birds’ nest. Strategically picking on smaller species, which will allow the young cowbird to hoard food and eventually kick out the host birds.

Students birding

As students are digitally savvy, we shared available online resources we as birders are increasingly utilizing more of. Apps and websites like eBird help folks easily keep a record of their bird lists which can be shared with the community as a whole. Folks can see what other birders have spotted in the area in real time and explore hotspots according to volume of birds observed.

As a Latina birder, it is important for me to connect with students and share my experiences, not only to encourage students to look into science careers but to showcase that everyone can find a way to connect with nature. Student athletes can visit the trails for endurance training, artist can find inspiration in the outdoors and those adventurers can find a new paths within parks and trails. With activities such as biking, hiking, birding, canoeing, kayaking and everything in between, students in this area have access to a myriad of outdoor options. And with their digital savvy-ness they can use handy apps to find the nearest parks and/or trails. I highly enjoyed sharing my experience with the bright minds of Ms. Royse’s class and future stewards of the outdoors. Best of luck to the students!

About Me:

Nydia Gutiérrez is a Texas native, hailing from the Rio Grande Valley, a major bird migratory corridor. Ornithology became a passion after taking it as a course in college which required students to enjoy the outdoors and identify birds. Gutiérrez currently resides in Washington, D.C. where she continues to chase the sun and follow the birds. Contact: Nydia@LatinoOutdoors.org

Cesar Chavez Taught Me to Love Climbing Mountains ~by Caro Garcia

This blog was originally posted in Caro Luevano-Garcia’s blog

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I grew up in Arvin, California. This small town sits at the foot of Bear Mountain, toward the south-eastern end of the Central Valley. I recall that if it were a good year, the snow level might reach down past the foothills to the town itself, which inevitably led to an abundant display of wild flowers in the spring. In the mountains, toward the Tehachapi Pass, nuzzled into a small set of hills is Keene, the location of the United Farm Workers Union offices/compound, now a National Monument. The monument is part of a property known as Nuestra Señora Reina de la Paz. When we went there for meetings, or to work on the property itself, or to work on boycott signs etc, it was simply called, La Paz. Beside the occasional trip to see the snow, going to La Paz was as close to going into nature as I got.

I remember the huelga days, through the eyes of a child.

I remember the rush of activity at my aunt’s home one afternoon when she announced that Cesar would be coming to the house for a meeting. I didn’t quite understand why or what for, but it was exciting. For me though, hanging out with cousins (I am the second oldest of the group) was all that mattered. The camaraderie of adults joined together by a cause would trickle down to the children, who with every passing event grew stronger in their own perception and self awareness.

I was about ten years old (1972) when I became acutely aware of what was going on and started asking questions. I learned about working conditions, wages, boycotts and fasting. I learned about fairness, basic rights, speaking out, and struggling to make life better. I learned to march in protest.

Chavez once said that, “self dedication is a spiritual experience.” He spoke of his belief that farm workers felt pride in their hard work, expertise and talent in helping crops grow to produce a bounty that ironically gentle hands would harvest to feed the world. Their work was in part a labor of love and respect for the Earth itself.
He was correct. When my family joined in the struggle for justice, I learned about the right to feel proud of who my mom and dad are, and the work they did to keep our family fed and in good health. I learned over the years that their work was more than just a paycheck. In learning to be proud of my ethnicity and culture, I learned also of racism.

I grew up knowing that the land my father managed was not ours, but that its bounty was a direct result of his dedication and commitment to the crops, and for that we could all be proud. His old truck wore a bumper sticker that read, “When you talk bad about a farmer, don’t talk with your mouth full.”

In learning that the growers finally signed contracts and that people as far away as England cared about where and how their food was grown, I learned to value my parents and their labor. Ultimately, I learned to value myself. I learned that I could do anything I wanted if I planned well, worked hard, remembered who I am, and celebrated myself accordingly. Celebrating oneself is not a naturally occurring phenomenon amongst the humble.
From Cesar I learned that we all need help sometimes (communities) and that learning from others (MLK, Gandhi) is just as smart if not smarter than trying to do it alone without input.

So when I finally accepted an invitation to go backpacking in Yosemite, an invitation I balked at for years, I jumped in with both feet. I asked questions, researched, bought equipment and most importantly, I said to myself, “Si se puede!” (I can do this!)
That said, I was like many grown ups, keenly aware of all the things that could go wrong, not the least of which was what my hair would look like after sleeping in the wild. One trip was all it took. I was hooked. But why? What is it about mountains that make us feel alive? For me, it was knowing in retrospect, at the end of it all, that in fact, I did it and I did not die.

I will not lie to you, I didn’t think of much beyond surviving that first trip. I stared down Half Dome. It was the kind of feeling you get when you stand up to a bully; a little scared, a little excited, heart racing, and looking around to see who has your back. I took pictures and when it was safe, I looked back and reflected. We were there. We did that. We saw that. We made it back. Look how far we went.
But a more meaningful change occurred within me as well. Like Cesar said, “Once chosen change begins, it cannot be reversed.” I wanted to go back. I wanted to see what else I could see, feel, touch, experience. Each trip we faced different mountains, different water crossings, different challenges. Each trip, I thought, I can do this!

I felt I was changing. I knew that in facing and conquering mountains I was conquering any doubts I had about what kind of person I am. Sir Edmund Hillary said, “It is not the mountain we conquer, but ourselves.” He and Cesar both knew that once a challenge was met, the challenged would be changed forever.
Being a great strategist, Cesar learned from each mistake, and each triumph. Likewise, I have learned a lesson on each trail, water crossing, pass, and mountain. Sometimes those lessons are about the trekking, about the process; how to make something happen. The lessons are about learning to get from one point to another without getting wet, slipping, falling, etc. Sometimes those lessons are more about content and meaning than process.
About community, Cesar said, “If you really want to make a friend, go to someone’s house and eat with them. The people that give you their food, give you their heart.” In the mountains, we share food, not only because it lightens our loads, but because it lightens our hearts as well. The community of hikers and backpackers is at once conjoined and distant. There is a respect for privacy and the sacred experience of being with oneself in the wilderness. At the same time, there is an understanding that if help is needed, help will be provided, even if its in the form of a bowl of chicken soup.

More frequently, the lessons for me are reflective, about myself. I truly am more than I think I am. I am bigger than my problems and obstacles. It’s a matter of having the courage to discover the boundaries of my own comfort zone, and then expanding them. It’s a matter of paying attention to what I say to myself when I’m doing something scary and then living the self talk. The lessons I have learned on a mountain are just as applicable in my day to day life. When I come across an injustice, I no longer fear the challenge of addressing the issue. I just plan, organize and seek assistance.

I was a lucky child in that I was able to grow up with parents, family, friends and neighbors that were part of La Causa and as a group, we grew in self pride, self worth and self determination. Learning to confront seemingly unsolvable problems with educated grace and calm, despite feeling fear and trepidation is one of the greatest lessons that can be taught to a child. It is a lesson I learned from being around Mr. Chavez and the United Farm Workers Union.

But this was not the only lesson. Perhaps even more importantly, we learned that we matter. We learned that we can make our own contribution to society in whatever fashion we choose. Some of my generation of children whose parents were/ are UFW Union members have become doctors, lawyers, teachers, and law enforcement officers. All have become better people through our shared knowledge that we are not powerless…that we matter. Cesar wanted that. He wanted us to know we matter so that we would be strong enough to effect change.
Now it is up to us to teach our children, and our children’s children, and our neighbors’ kids, and our kids’ friends, and pretty much anyone that will listen, that going out into the wild-unknown is good for our body, mind and soul. It’s not just about seeing the land, its also about seeing ourselves in it, a part of it. Take your kids out into the world, so that they don’t believe they belong in the periphery. Once we teach our children that we belong to the world and the world belongs to us; once we teach them that we all matter, we secure their future of inclusion. Once they feel included, they will feel empowered to effect change; to be the change.
When the mountains call they whisper, “Teach the children to love climbing mountains.” Pass it on.

César E. Chávez National Monument, Keene, CA
César E. Chávez Foundation