Essay: The Best Climbing Meal
Late in the spring of 2002, I was attending a trad lead clinic in Big Bear. An SCMA club member had offered to host the group at his vacation home. Short on space, I decided to leave my food in my carpool driver's car. Sat. night we enjoyed a glorious potluck with risotto and fresh vegetables and dessert.
Sunday morning, as cars were already rolling towards the Holcomb Valley climbing area, I was locked out of the car with my food. I told the trip host, Ron Crowley, who said that was no problem and that he'd ask his wife to pack an extra sandwich.
I meandered into the kitchen, waiting for my sandwich and ride. To my dismay, Mrs. Crowley was packing peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. At this point, you, the reader, may be thinking, Boy, what an ingrate about me, the writer. Let me assure you that while that was exactly the case, my rationale was that for a beginning trad leader, lead climbing felt like hard work. We started on 5.5-5.7 rated climbs, which were as mentally as physically demanding. Such efforts demanded replenishment at lunch... on the scale of a Manwich. Or at least a Subway chicken teriyaki sandwich.
I packed the aluminum-foil wrapped sandwich (which appeared about 3/4 the size of a typical Wonder bread sandwich). But at the same time, I wondered aloud, What else would I eat? Ron politely offered to share an energy bar if I needed (I know, an ingrate I was).
We climbed. Lunchtime rolled around. I unwrapped my sandwich reluctantly and took a bite. The bread was a sweet and nutty homemade wheat. Mrs. Crowley had sliced it slightly thick but it was soft as down. It was a bread made with loving hands. I chewed slowly to relish every bite of the best PBJ sandwich I've ever eaten.
I became a convert of Mrs. Crowley's PBJ sandwiches and suggest to SCMA club members if Ron hosts an overnighter, you should lock yourself out of your car with the food inside or just forget your food altogether. For less fortunate non-SCMA members, I believe Mrs. Crowley might be persuaded to cater your weddings, bar mitzvahs, debutantes, or big wall climbs.
See Also:
poem: soloist
essay: the seduction of climbing
tr: fear of commitment
