You know that pithy statement, It’s not whether you win or lose, it’s how you play the game?

Man, that feels actually so true in my life right now.

It started with returning to my outdoor climbing project, Sonic Youth (5.13a). My badass climbing partner, Casey, had shown it to me in the fall. She subsequently sent it after 4 sessions like the crusher she is. I questioned if it would go back to it; I only had two sessions on it, and it seemed decently out of reach. But my buddy Brit was interested in checking it out last month, so I said, “Why the heck not?” read more

Check out my article in the Colorado Collective Outdoor Journal here!

I’ve been living so much in anticipation of events, that I’ve hardly taken any time to consider the events themselves. It really hit me this last Saturday.

All summer, I’ve been training for an event hosted by my climbing gym, CityROCK: Battle Royale. It’s a sport climbing competition that they last hosted in 2019 and in fact was won by Paris 2024 Olympic athletes Natalia Grossman and Colin Duffy. After 5 years, CityROCK had decided to bring it back. It differs from the gym’s typical “Downtown Local” comps in that there’s a cash prize ($500 for first place) and the tie breaker boils down to “the battle route.” Essentially, the battle route is such a challenging route that your goal is just to make it as far as up it possible, not necessarily finish it. If you are the male or female who makes it the furthest, you are automatically put into the finals round. Otherwise, the judges are looking at your top 3 hardest finishes. There are 20 routes, #1 being the easiest/fewest points and #20 being the hardest/most points. You get extra points if you “flash” the route (i.e. finish it on your first try) and additional points if you lead the route, rather than top rope. You get 4 hours to get your 3 routes and the top 8 climbers in each category advance. read more

I don’t think I was a dreamer as a kid. It’s not that I had no aspirations, but rather saw infinite possibility. I didn’t latch onto one particular dream or accomplishment because there were too many to choose from. Instead, I just worked really hard at what I did. I worked hard at school, on the field hockey field, and in the climbing gym. Whatever I did, I just tried to do it well.

When I was very little, I had an obsession with Annie, the musical. I do recall wanting to be her, on stage, for a brief time. Once that impossible dream subsided, like a lot of kids, I thought I wanted to be a veterinarian “when I grew up.” Accompanying my dad to put down our golden retriever, Dixie, at age 12 quickly dispelled that idea too. I don’t remember having any career ideas in my teens, and I certainly wasn’t ready to declare a major when I applied to colleges. The reason I majored in psychology wasn’t because I wanted to be a psychologist, either; I just loved the classes and never felt like the work was real work. It was just fun. I wanted to spend my four years enjoying my education, not loathing it. read more

“A project is a route or boulder problem that’s at the cusp of your climbing limit. Professional climbers will have projects that they work on for years. They’ll have a route in say, France, that they’ll return to every year to try and send,” I explained to my brother on the phone on Friday. “So this route, The Sub, it’s our project. It’s a 5.12d. I don’t know how much you know about climbing ratings, but supposedly, if you can climb anything that’s 5.12, you’re in the top 10% of climbers. But if you can climb 5.13, you’re in the top 1% of climbers. I am trying to send 5.13a. But first, this 5.12d.” read more

Five months and five days. I had counted. That was how long I went without rock climbing—the longest stint in my life. Man, it was good to be back.

I had a realization about a month ago that I was simply existing. It wasn’t inherently a bad thing, but it was perplexing. COVID had stripped me of so many passions: concert-going, brewery visits with friends, traveling, and most of all, climbing. And yet, I was numb. Shouldn’t I be more upset, given that these activities are what form my entire identity? Shouldn’t I lament their loss? Maybe I did, back when this began in March. But at that point, I really had just gotten used to feeling uninspired by my daily routine. And that frightened me. read more

As we were fortunate enough to have four and a half days off of school between classes, a few classmates and I took a long weekend in Viñales, located in the province of Pinar del Río. While Viñales was not always what we expected, we discovered places there like no other. It’s not unlikely that we’ll return some weekend before we leave to do it all again.

Viñales is known as an outdoorsy town. It is home to a national park full of rivers and caves to explore, and there are countless excursion options to try, including horseback riding, visits to tobacco and coffee plantations, bike rentals, eco-tours – you name it. When we arrived, I was mildly disappointed by how touristy it was; the town consists of essentially two streets full of bars, restaurants, and souvenir shops. Outside of these two streets lie hundreds of casas particulares, or hostels, offering rooms to rent. And of course, tourists from all over the world abound. But what lay outside of town was something to behold.

The main objective, at least for me and my friend Grace, was to rockclimb in Viñales. The rockclimbing in Viñales is actually world-renowned and has been featured in several rockclimbing magazines. Professional climbers, including Sasha DiGiulian, have also trekked out to Cuba to see what the hype is all about. We weren’t exactly sure how to go about climbing while in Viñales (it’s actually technically illegal), but we were determined to try. What we found was a climber’s paradise.

We first stopped at the last casa particular on a street leading outside of town towards the mountains. We inquired about climbing, and the owner of the house explained that we needed to continue down the road until we found a gate. There, we’d enter Raul Reyes’ farm and he’d take it from there. Somewhat dubious, we continued down the road and found a shack full of clear climbers – toned arms, covered in dirt, unloading ropes and gear from big backpacks. I approached a man on the front porch and explained how we were interested in climbing for the following two days. He was actually a guide, and was willing to offer us gear or help the following day if we needed it. We told him we could manage on our own, but didn’t have a guidebook to locate routes. A true Cuban, he immediately ran inside and grabbed an extra copy, telling us to just drop it off the following day and wishing us well. Our excitement grew.

At this point, we were on a dirt road full of horses, surrounded by coffee and tobacco plants. We saw the gate up ahead, and when we veered onto the path to Raul’s, we nearly cried. An expansive view of the mountains opened up; we saw caves poking holes in the rock; the farmland spread even wider. At the end of the path, we came upon Raul’s shack: the climbers’ paradise as mentioned. At the shack, little tables and hammocks were filled with climbers from all over, enjoying cheap beers and piña coladas sold by Raul. At the counter (covered in business cards, stickers, and letters from climbers throughout the world), Raul had laid out Cuban cigars made on his very farm, as well as waterbottles full of his coffee beans, fresh honey, and salsa. We couldn’t believe it.

And then there was Raul himself; a leathery old Cuban man wearing a cowboy hat and boots. He immediately welcomed us and, upon seeing the guidebook, went to show us the various places in the book with pictures of him. I explained to him how incredibly stoked we were to be there, since the worldwide climbing community consists of, in my opinion, the best people there are. And to find a niche climbing community such as this was even more incredible. He nodded knowingly, and pointed us to a sign that would lead us to the Cave of the Cow, “La Cueva de la Vaca,” for us to check out before climbing the following day. We thanked him and pushed forward.

As we made our way down the dirt path, we started noticing increasing scraggly brush and wild goats scrambling around. We arrived at a tall, steep staircase, and after a short struggle, we landed at the face of the wall and the cave entrance. The cave stretched through the entire cliff. On the other side, we received another beautiful view of distance hills and lush greenery. And the rocks. The rocks boggled our minds. Tons of bulbs, tufas, chicken heads, stalactites, and stalagmites jutting out of the face at impossible angles. Aretes, columns, and overhangs galore. All sharp, unforgiving limestone. We couldn’t wait.

We spent the following two days in two areas: Enseñada de Raul (Raul’s Teachings) and Cueva Larga (Long Cave). Enseñada de Raul consisted of five different walls, diverse and surrounded by palm trees, wild pigs and goats, and mosquitos. We used trees as holds in many instances and tore up our hands on the jagged rock. And we loved it. The following day, after much difficulty, we found Cueva Larga, a huge cave tucked behind one of the main walls. The cave was unreal; relentlessly tall columns stretching toward sunlight, with wind whistling through every so often. We were surrounded by climbers from Canada, Cuba, France, and Slovakia. It was an exceptional time, conversing and sharing gear with other climbers. And to top it all off, both days ended with an ice cold beverage at Raul’s, swinging in a hammock.

After being separated for over a month from our greatest passion, Grace and I were over the moon to have found climbing in Cuba. But it wasn’t just the climbing; it was the atmosphere. No matter where you go, climbers are so supportive of one another and willing to help and teach one another. The climbers in Viñales were no different, despite their different backgrounds, languages, and levels. And everyone was united by this old farmer, a man who doesn’t even climb himself, but simply enjoys bringing people together to see his beautiful farm and backyard of exquisite walls. If I never am able to return to Cuba, I can at least rest assured that not only did I get to climb in an unparalleled place, but I got to meet the one and only Raul Reyes.