Monday, October 22, 2007

Everything I Know I Learned from Sue McDevitt

There aren’t too many memories I retain from when I very first learned to climb 15 years ago. One, exceptionally vivid memory is of sitting on the pot, reading a Climbing magazine article and being completely captivated by a cover feature about Sue McDevitt. WHY? She lived in the Valley, did big walls and climbed cracks. She seemed so bad ass. Fast forward five years, I was at the tradeshow and met Sue at the Black Diamond booth. I cheekily introduced myself and announced, trying desperately to sound cool, that I was “coming to the Valley.” She unpretentiously offered that I call her when I was there.

The next day, as I packed my van in the driveway, my boyfriend nervously asked what I was doing. When I told him I was going to the Valley, he shrugged and mumbled something about discussing it first with him. Sue invited me to come climb with her and I wasn’t going to let a single unnecessary second pass before I got there. Eighteen hours later, I was enjoying a glass of red wine with Sue McDevitt—the Sue McDevitt.

Problem was, despite the fact that I had aspired to climb the famed routes of Yosemite and I was a solid 5.12 sport climber, I had only led three gear pitches in my life. The next day we were on the Rostrum. I was too intimidated to confess the truth, so I took the rack pitch after pitch, gulped at each placement and managed to do the route. Although she has never admitted it, I’m certain she sensed my inadequacies and steered me accordingly. Throughout the next month we climbed nearly every day, long free routes and my first real wall route, sharing a single portaledge, eating beans straight from the can and sipping carefully measured out tequila from a Nalgene. She shared stories from her early days in the Valley, climbing with the various partners and subsequent epics, which included getting benighted on the route, a forced bivy in a tree and her partner, another girl, peeing her pants during the night.

Sure, Sue taught me how to how to trad climb, aid climb, and how to rack, but more importantly, she taught me lessons that have guided me throughout my life as a climber:

How to tolerate guests--Whenever I am tempted to freak out on dossing dirtbags in my house, I remember that I lived at Sue’s for TWO months and never once did she vibe me for leaving a dish in the sink or drinking the last beer.

How to trust your husband--When Sue was out of town, Dan, her husband, and I slept in the same portaledge for five nights on El Cap. Now, if a tinge of jealousy creeps in when my boyfriend volunteers to spot a young hottie, I let it go.

How to raise a child--In today’s world of overbearing, overprotective and inattentive parenting, it is refreshing to see Maykala, now eight, thrive despite being raised at the crag, running feral, playing naked in the garden and sampling Fancy Feast cat food. Plus, she’s an exceptional artist and can do a one arm. Seriously.

Other lessons include: How to be humble… how to drink a bottle of wine and still get up the next morning to climb Astroman… how to make incredible pasta sauce, how to build an outside shower, how to outright own two properties in California, one with 40 acres and one 15 miles from Yosemite, building the homes with bare hands—all the while maintaining “the life of a climbing bum.”

More than eight years have gone by since those early days spent with Sue. I had let five years pass without climbing with her at all. Now, she is a mother and I have multiple jobs and my enthusiasm for the Valley has waned. But it really isn’t so simple to blame my lax attitude with the Valley and spending time with her on that. It is much more nostalgic. God willing, we all experience “The Glory Days”—whether it occurs in high school, college or, in my case, the beginnings as a well-rounded climber. What made those times so meaningful then and so bittersweet now is the very fact that they were so extraordinary and seminal. Maybe I’m not really avoiding her because I’m afraid of things not being the same, but more out of respect that they won’t. So many times, as an itinerant climber, you connect with exceptional people, have amazing times with them, say good-bye and NEVER see or hear from them again. I guess that is what separates Sue from the mundanely special.

There are important lessons one learns from being a climber that directly apply to life. Many of these values I acquired from Sue.