While my life achievements have been numerous, impressive, and intimidating to most mortal men, I tend to not publicize them. After all in today’s age we have at least seven different social media accounts (five of which you can’t remember the passwords), LinkedIn, blogs, Christmas newsletters, and on-line “brag books”. I have no idea what that last one is, but every professional job search service says you must have one. I usually just bring an old photo album of baby pictures.
So, imagine my horror when a friend sent me someone’s “climbing resume”. Seriously? With everything else going on in the world I now have to stress over my lack of a climbing resume? I’m a busy guy. I don’t have time to be searching for climbing resume examples on the internets. I have nymph fishing videos to watch (yes, this is a real thing and how I spent my morning).
Sigh… not wanting to be left out of the next social media, job hunting fad, I present my climbing resume:
- 1975 Climbed the big kids playground at the junior high school. Solo ascent. (class II 3.7+)
- 1977 Group climb of the Matterhorn. Seated climb, Disneyland-style. (class II 5.1)
- 1982 Ascended some hill in the dark to drink two beers we’d stolen from my friend Roberts house. (class I 1.0+)
- 1994 Summited high point in Houston (some office building downtown). Done in classic alpine style, carrying only a briefcase and sack lunch. (class I 2.2++)
- 2007 First ascent of Funny Bunny Express, Heavenly Valley, Tahoe. Expedition style, utilizing both “magic carpet” and “rope tow” methods. (class III 5.10)
Speaking of climbing and rope tows, I attempted to teach a friend how to ski this past weekend. First off learning how to ski when you’ve reached middle age, while commendable, has a few challenges you may not have anticipated when you were a little tyke. It’s not like a golf course – there’s no beer cart lady who periodically comes by to serve you tasty beverages. Your center of gravity is a few feet higher and further in front of you than it was as a youngster. This tends to have a negative impact on your relationship with Newtonian physics.
Also, the bunny hills tend to be filled with little kids and moms. It turns out they don’t appreciate expletive filled tirades when you fall. I tried to explain to the ski patrol dude that some little three-foot tall psycho went screaming by at mach II and cut us off. Anyone who wears an all pink “My pretty pony” ski outfit should have their pass pulled just on general principle.
The lesson learned? Don’t drop the F-bomb on the bunny slope (hey, that’s T-shirt worthy!). Also, knit ski caps give you really bad hat hair.