The morning was cool and gray. A typical early-November fall day. I parked in the South Shore Beach parking lot at Devil’s Lake State Park. Another typical busy and prosperous day at Wisconsin’s premier state park. Most likely visitors taking in one last good weekend to hike and see some notable geologic features such as Balanced Rock and Devil’s Doorway before the snow arrives. But I am no typical visitor. I am a seasoned local veteran of everything the park offers. And today I am making a pilgrimage as a broken individual who is seeking resolution and healing through the art of bouldering.
Through the years, Wisconsin’s flagship state park has been a hotspot for climbers of all skill levels. This locale greets all comers by challenging one and all with its notorious Baraboo Quartzite and Granite. The exposed raw material is some of the hardest stone on the planet. It lures one in with its purple haze color, but plays hard to get with the little texture, thus making it tricky for one to navigate for a proper hand hold or foot placement in the midst of a route.
My feet snuggled into my Merrell hiking boots as I reviewed the rest of my gear: A backpack filled with two Nalgene bottles, Clif and Snickers bars, trail mix, crummy climbing shoes, and a filled-up chalk bag. I pulled out the crash pads and sandwiched my backpack between, then slid them onto my back. With my slightly abused “Devil’s Lake Bouldering” guide in one hand, I looked up at the southern side of the east bluff and was off to immerse myself in a day of yearning peace through nature.
My mindset was melancholier than the gray sky overcast. My depression has been a struggle these last couple of months since my younger brother committed suicide. I tried to fight off the thoughts and feelings of how I was responsible; That I didn’t do enough to save him. Additionally, I was scrambling to find work since departing my previous job the same day he passed. This combination left me with anxiety that could (at the time) only be handled through sleepless nights and copious amount of beer consumption to temporarily numb them. Through all of these negative traits, I lost all ambition and confidence. I was a shell of my once positively outgoing, uplifting self. Key qualities for my adventurous, dirtbag soul. The day out on the rocks was an attempt to self-reflect. An opportunity to comprehend the reality of one challenge with another. It was to start reclaiming what I lost. Today’s focus was to climb unfamiliar routes and begin refilling these crucial broken vacancies within my soul.
I headed along the trail and crossed the train tracks towards the base of the east bluff. I veered left at the spur of the trail and began ascending up the popular Balanced Rock trail. This nearly half-mile climb to the top of the east bluff, switch backing along the talus fields of quartzite and granite exposed from the last glaciation that took place roughly 10,000 years ago has also brought forth some unique bouldering routes. I was so accustomed to climbing the north end of the bluff. So, this challenge of the familiar yet hosting the unfamiliar allowed my conscience to speak up with confidence, “This is the right path, Seth. Keep going.”
The views along Balanced Rock Trail are amazing. To be honest, the views along all the trails are. But instead of looking out towards the lake, my face will be nearly a foot or more away from the exposed quartzite in search of my next hold.
I opened my guidebook to determine the first stop: Trailside Boulder. This tall boulder is apparently situated directly alongside the trail. However, trying to determine which boulder was the correct one was a mind game in of itself. I periodically stopped to assess a large rock and compare it to the image depicted in the book. Hikers looked at me as though I was some crazy homeless traveler looking for my next place to squat. Eventually, however, I found Trailside. This mammoth boulder was daunting to look at. I felt like it was David versus Goliath. I took off my gear, laid down the crash pads, switched shoes and dug my hands into the chalk bag. The climbing began.
The first attempt was an embarrassing failure. Within three moves on the route, I fell ass first onto the pad. I sat for a moment, looking up as the boulder towered over me. I could almost hear it bellowing a deep laugh at my demise. But I wasn’t ready to pack up and keep moving up the trail. I wanted, no, desperately needed, to conquer this one. I got back to starting position and climbed. With one careful hold to the next, moving one foot and bending the opposite leg like I was amid playing a game of Twister, I eventually made the send to the top. Overlooking some of the trail, something familiar and natural was beginning to emerge: A smile. I took a deep breath and mumbled how this feels right to me. After a couple of more successful attempts, I felt I became well acquainted with the Trailside Boulder. I eventually packed everything up and continued the pilgrimage up Balanced Rock Trail to the next test: Watermarks Wall.
Watermarks Wall sits directly below the iconic Balanced Rock. This dominant climbing cliff is roughly 50-feet-tall and like Trailside Boulder, it resides along the trail. With the small amount of confidence and determination previously gained from triumphing the previous problem, I prepared myself for my next ascent. Like my first climb problem, I fell straight away. This time, however, I didn’t want to give this behemoth the benefit of the doubt to thunder victorious laughter upon me. I sprang back up and jostled back into position.
I climbed on. Higher and higher. I ascended as though I was demanding to stare the Watermarks giant straight in its eyes (at least envision there were a pair to glare into) and unleash the rage that I’ve been consumed by for months. Somewhere along the way the drive of fear took over. As I reached for the next hold, an unexpected high-pitched screech from an unknown spectator far below broke my concentration. I slipped and found myself letting go, going into freefall. But it was during this fall that the mind traversed elsewhere.
As I made my unrelenting descent back to the ground, the feeling of time slowing down took over. What probably should have been a mere five-second drop back onto my crash pads turned into a sensation of stillness. I closed my eyes and took in a deep breath. Deep in thought, I saw myself back to the night my brother Zach died. No longer was the scene of he and I separated by phone screens, pleading for him to step away and that everything will be alright. This time, I was there in person. I was staring over the side of an overpass as he fell. I reached out, the moment also in slow motion. Our eyes locked on each other. He kept falling. I proceeded to extend my hands out, hoping for a miracle that I would save him. He disappeared into the black abyss below. I was left alone on a bridge engulfed in darkness.
A gasp from the unknown brought me back to reality and my quick descent. I crashed onto the pads and lied there. Apparently without realization, I had gathered an audience of interested hikers watching me climb Watermarks Wall. A young woman had just managed to come around the bend and looked up to see what the rest of the crowd was seeing. Her loud exclamation of surprise seeing me clambering to the rock face was what I heard that broke my concentration. She ran over to check on me. “Jesus Christ, are you okay?!? That was so scary!!!” I sat up and looked at her smiling. I’m sure that the adrenaline rush running through my body contorted a crazy Jack Nicholson-like smile as I looked at her, because she looked even more frightened. “Totally cool, ma’am. Thanks.” She gave an awkward smirk and hastily continued her way up the trail. The rest of the group also dispersed venturing onward and upward.
I sat there and looked up at the wall. I began to laugh. I don’t know why but I felt I needed to. I thought of that climb. The sense of getting more assertive with each grip. The excitement of getting higher. More intently I reminisced on the fall. The dark place in my mind that I didn’t want to go. The sense of witnessing the loss of someone I loved and admired and feeling the sense of defeat and eventually becoming alone. Then came the crash back into reality. Something about this climb felt like an internal breakthrough. A sense of finding victory within defeat. The notion of two fears merging for me to process. I sat alongside the wall and took the deep-rooted thoughts in, all the while enjoying the astounding view of Devil’s Lake. The clouds began to part, and the sun shined a great warmth. In that moment, I also felt an inner warmth. I came to recognize that it was my smile that was being flirtatious earlier. Something I haven’t done in a long time. I needed a keepsake of this moment, and so I grabbed my phone and took a selfie with the route figuratively smiling behind me.
After a brief time of reflecting, I said goodbye to the wall and got back to hiking up the trail. I encountered more curious parties interested in my day of climbing and made small talk. I stopped at other climbs along the way. The Lou Reed Boulder, Jazz Flute Boulder, and Above Bulbous Wall. There were so many more riveting climbs. But as the day proceeded on, I knew I had to limit my adventure. That only meant that the others would have to wait for another day.
I made it to the top of the East Bluff Trail and proceeded to another popular set of problems collectively known as the Tombstone Area. A large quartzite tower known to the local climbers as “Leaning Tower” dominates along the cliffside. Alongside are a series of other considerable routes: Tombstone Wall, Headstone Wall, and Footstone. The guidebook states there are 22 known routes on these walls. I figured this was a good place to end the day. While I was feeling sore and scratched up from the day’s climbs, I felt no care but engrossed in savoring the moment. I was motivated by a regained smile that felt as though it shined as bright as the November sun overlooking the fun.
Eventually after enjoying a sound afternoon completing some of the problems at the Tombstone, the sun gave hints that it was getting to be that time to call it a day. I packed up and made my way down East Bluff on the CCC Trail. I made it to the baseline and walked along the Grottos Trail and back to where I began: South Shore Beach parking lot. I put everything into the car. I looked up at East Bluff. I felt rather tired and sore, but the smile never left my face. “Great day, man. Be proud of yourself.”
Looking back, the day was a personal breakthrough. For the first time in a long time, I felt confidence and pride. While I knew there was still a lot of work to process the trauma of losing a loved one in a horrendous way, this day of climbing helped me realize that I can rebound and grow through distressing experiences and challenges. I always look back on that November day as when climbing was not just a sport, but a wonderful prescription for my life.
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