I’m Nick, and I’m coauthoring Projecting Reality with Allie, my girlfriend and climbing partner. We first met about four years ago while we were both attending Northern Arizona University in Flagstaff. We divided our time between skiing too much, climbing too much, and drinking too much Jameson. Allie spent a lot of time buried in books, and I spent a lot of time digging her out, pulling her into the outdoor world.

During the winter, I worked long hours as a Ski Patroller at the local hill, and during the summer, I lived an equally blissful lifestyle. After working late nights as a bouncer at a local bar, I slept in most mornings, messed around on my guitar, and acquired an array of houseplants. Most afternoons, I spent sport climbing with friends at The Pit or bouldering at Priest Draw.

On the morning I met Allie, I was sitting on my couch with my front door open. I had passively observed some people moving someone into the apartment next to me. I didn’t think much of it until I saw a girl carrying in a crashpad, the kind used for outdoor bouldering in Flagstaff. Six hours later, Allie was sitting on my couch, telling me about how she spent the last three months in Patagonia on a sea kayaking and mountaineering adventure. A week later, we hiked up Mt. Humphreys in the San Francisco Peaks. We slept on the ridge between Agassiz and Humphreys. As batsflew overhead, we watched a gorgeous sunset and made an excellent meal. Looking back, our night on Humphreys was the birth of our outdoor partnership.

In time, Allie became my primary climbing partner. We went to the gym together, trained together, and worked on our living room hangboard together. Allie took up skiing and eventually became a ski instructor. I left Patrol and worked nights downtown to make more time to climb. Our climbing relationship grew, moving from relaxed afternoon bouldering sessions into sport climbing. We then jumped into the world of multi-pitch traditional climbing. In traditional climbing, you place small pieces of metal called nuts and cams in cracks, and you then clip rope to the gear to protect yourself in the event of a fall. Essentially, you take something seemingly impossible, and gradually, you work up to accomplishing your task. We started at our local crags and worked up to larger climbing destinations.

Our first road trip to Joshua Tree—equal parts climbing venue and desert paradise—was a turning point in our climbing relationship. In Joshua Tree, grippy rock, solid gear placements, short approaches, horrifying slabs, and skin chewing phenocrysts combine to create vertical ecstasy. One night, after a $3 dinner of gas station hot dogs and a couple sunbaked cans of beer, I went for a walk around Hidden Valley campground. Before I knew it, I was scrambling then bouldering. As I climbed through the moonlit, alien landscape, I felt the hot nighttime wind run overmy body. I felt incredibly free. Eventually, I found myself sitting on top of a rock formation called the Blob, looking out at the Joshua Tree studded landscape. Something clicked in my head up there: the world, the land, people, life itself—it didn’t have to all be dominated by fear and anxiety, by arbitrary limits and norms. Life could all be a playground. We could have exceptional experiences. We could climb—and climb hard—and not simply read through Rock and Ice and climbing guides, always dreaming and rarely doing.

Since our first trip to Joshua Tree, we have both grown a lot. We have ventured into alpine climbing in the High Sierra, and at the end of last summer, we took an unsuccessful but exciting shot at Washington Column in Yosemite. Our experiences have given us a solid jumping off point. Now, it’s not only about climbing. It’s about engaging with the world—with life, danger, and fear in a real way, not in a sterilized way. In climbing, your ability protects you, not someone else’s guarantee. If you fall, there’s no one to sue. It’s all in your hands. Allie and I want to take on real risk, adventure, and reward.

For us, the next step involves leaving Flagstaff. There are many reasons, but more or less, we need a larger playground. In November, I moved back to the San Francisco Bay Area, where I grew up, and I began working at a local bike shop. Cycling has become a fun compliment to climbing. Allie will move to the Bay Are in August, and we hope to climb in Yosemite for a few seasons. Multi-day big wall climbs will demand a new level of commitment and skill. In addition to Yosemite, we hope to travel to the Tetons, the Bugaboos, the Cascades, and hopefully, Patagonia over the next decade.

As we adventure, we hope our friends and family will read our blog and keep tabs on our adventures. For us, climbing has become a form of meditation, a way to expand our limits. We hope, if other people stumble across our blog, they will feel inspired to live life on their own terms, to seek out their own adventures.

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