Dealing with uncertainty
Since embarking on this journey of exploring and radically shifting my mindset and approach, I have become a radar for others with similar outlook. It came to me loud and clear in the form of Buster Martin, October 2019. Actually Buster came on two of my outdoor residentials for young people wanting to learn outdoor climbing 10 years previously. To think I taught him to thread his first belay and place his first wire, whilst holding his ropes on this 9a+ last autumn, was really something.
I have followed his progress from afar, via social media and news reports: his first 8b, 8c, 9a. I knew he’d been trying First Ley, 9a+ in Margalef, Spain. I was heading out there last Autumn. He was looking for a climbing partner – his partner had dropped out last minute. I responded, and so we hooked up.
I knew he was strong – that was evident from his beastly training videos on social media. But strength is not everything in climbing; a climber who knows that will already be a few steps ahead. I was about to get a front row seat to what can happen with an incredible attitude and dedication.
A lot of what I was saw was testament to him dealing with such uncertainty (especially in light of a year’s dedicated training leading up to this trip).
First his climbing partner had dropped out last minute.
Secondly Margalef had experienced its worst weather in 25 years the week before.
Thirdly the sun behaved very differently in the autumn to the spring.
Fourthly, he didn’t have a car and he was staying in the refuge with 11 snorers.
We came up with an agreement that I would climb earlier in the day and we’d go along to his route for best evening conditions. I was fascinated to watch his face when we turned the corner that first day to see how devastating the rain had been. The tufa (the route is a tufa) was wet, dripping throughout. Then as we observed the sun, we also noticed that it did not go off the crux hold until 15 minutes before it went dark (let’s remember this is pretty much a horizontal route where the difficulties are contained in about 10 moves) - this doesn't happen in the spring!
But Buster was calm. I knew right then, before he even touched the rock, there was no doubt the route was going to go down SOON. He’d come prepared; within a handful of minutes the rags came out of his bag to dry holds, he reasoned the sun would dry it out, and he said he’d like a belay to just see how wet it actually was and whether he could dry anything off. I just tried my hardest to keep my mouth shut as I observed the scene.
Where others may have been freaking out, what was clear was that Buster was basically in his element and he didn’t want to be anywhere else. As the week went on, he reacquainted himself with the moves and links, and the route dried.
The only chink in his armour was the kneepad. His knee kept slipping in the kneebar, and he would get frustrated how to do the pad up (even the notes he’d written about how to do it up from previous attempts on the route didn’t help!). This was my only input: I suggested that everything else about his preparation was immaculate, but that doing up the kneepad was a veritable source of annoyance. Right there he understood and from then on, he took time to put it on gently and with care.
I belayed him for a week, and the following week he’d done it!
It’s rare to get such an insight into climbing at that level, especially when the nature of the moves is right there in front of your eyes. Perhaps 9a+ is impossible to relate to, but we’ve all been there in terms of poor conditions, last minute frustrations, what it’s like to prepare & train hard in advance, all the time trying to keep your head together.
What I learnt from Buster, aside from his diligent preparation, was his approach. He’d tried out multiple 9a+s across Spain, but had settled on this one: he wanted hard moves, to feel the difficulty and a challenge that would push him to his limit like this. Buster climbs with a deep personal motivation. Actually just a handful of years previously, he’d taken a year-long break because he’d noticed he’d lost this deeper connection to climbing. He returned to climbing with an amazing mix of energy and motivation. This route was perfectly aligned with his reason for climbing, level and life. To see that first hand was truly inspiring.
Whilst there is a huge difference between coping with situations we choose to put ourselves in (such as going climbing) and those we do not (everything to do with the world right now), there are strong messages in Buster’s experience, that truly staying connected to what we love, will get (or at least help) us through.