At first, I didn’t notice it. When it became too big to not notice, I ignored it. In my ignorance, I even mocked it. It wasn’t until it had completely subsumed my inner circle that I was forced to accept reality: my friends can climb up walls like mountain goats.
Bouldering is the art of ascending short “climbs” using time-tested techniques. As much a problem-solving exercise as it is a physical one, it pleases parts of the brain left dormant for millennia. What began as a way to train rock climbers has blossomed into its own culture replete with specialised gear, terminology, community and Italian brain rot memes.
If I wanted to join my friends in “the way of the wall”, I’d be starting from zero – but after my GP’s requests that I engage in more physical activity turned to impassioned pleas – and, fine, a tinge of peer pressure – I found myself outside Blochaus climbing gym in Sydney.
Climbing gyms have become true third places. Many have coffee, snacks, free wifi, lounge areas and even non-bouldering activities that make them genuinely comfortable places to spend time. Many have weekly events, open early and close late.
I knew none of this on my first day. I wandered in with my partner, who incredibly agreed to start too so I didn’t have to do it alone. We were met with a hectic maze of sloped walls, and impossibly small “holds”. Although we were told these climbs had varying difficulty levels, everyone, even small children, seemed to move like Cirque du Soleil performers. Then there was us. Starting with the easiest level – blue – we got down to business.
I approached the wall with the confidence of someone who’d watched at least five to seven tutorial videos the night prior, but by the time hand met hold, all had been forgotten. The nerves kicked in. Surely these rental shoes were too big? (They were). Surely I had used too much chalk? (I had). But neither of these prevented me from completing my first climb and the rush that came after. I soon fell afoul of the golden rule of climbing: move slow. Time spent off the wall is just as valuable as time spent on. Within 30 minutes, I could hardly move.
That first day had many hard lessons. Climbing in your 30s without stretching first teaches something that can be learned no other way.
My own decisions aside, the learning process in bouldering isn’t all that steep. As a beginner, it’s clear where your focus is meant to be, what you’re meant to do – and you receive plenty of non-judgmental help from others on the way up. It can take weeks to develop the skills to tackle the next difficulty level, and months to progress from there, but as colours highlight your next achievement, or “projects” in the parlance, learning never becomes a grind.
I committed to going twice a week and bought a membership to maintain a healthy level of accountability. The benefits were immediate. Within two weeks of climbing, my upper body and core strength had noticeably improved; by week three so had my posture and sleep. More importantly, I had progressed to purple. It would be another few weeks before I successfully finished any climbs, but they no longer felt impossible.
I now crave the moments of mindfulness the wall provides – it’s hard to sweat the small stuff when brain and body are so locked in. Social pressure may have driven me up the wall, but the opportunity to carve quiet moments in my week has kept me there.
Three months later, many climbs still remain out of reach. I haven’t quite pinned down the lingo, or a position on whether liquid or powder chalk is better, but I’m in. Bouldering has a grip on me. Besides, I already bought the shoes.
