ON LIFESTYLE CLIMBERS: AN EXAMINATION OF ROCK CLIMBING DEDICATION, COMMUNITY, AND

TRAVEL

Submitted to the faculty of the University Graduate School in partial fulfillment of the requirements

for the degree Doctor of Philosophy

in the Department of Geography, Indiana University

July 2012

ii

Accepted by the Graduate Faculty, Indiana University, in partial fulfillment of the requirements for the degree of Doctor of Philosophy.

Doctoral Committee

______________________________________________

Dr. Daniel C. Knudsen

______________________________________________

Dr. Dennis Conway

______________________________________________

Dr. Charles Greer

______________________________________________

Dr. Edward Linenthal

______________________________________________

Dr. Dallen Timothy

May 29, 2012

iii

Copyright © 2012 Jillian M. Rickly-Boyd

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ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS I have always found it a matter of luck, or perhaps fate, that my husband and I got

together before he found rock climbing. We had been dating for less than a year

when he returned from a hike and explained, with great excitement, what he had

encountered: “These guys were climbing on the boulders and cliffs down by the

river!” He was soon hooked; rock climbing became one of his passions, taking up

most of his leisure time, along with making new friends, and traveling to climb. As a

result, I spent considerable amounts of time hanging out at crags and in the

bouldering gym, as well as watching climbing videos and browsing climbing

magazines. Despite my efforts in those earlier years to also love this activity, it never

quite happened. In fact, what interested me more was the communities and identities

climbers develop, their attitude and drive, and the way in which they describe their

experiences.

So, when it came time to develop a dissertation topic, rock climbing presented itself

as something both familiar yet intriguing. Along with other circumstances, this topic

offered a chance for my husband and I to work more closely, for better or worse. We

were able to spend the fall season together in one of the world’s top sport climbing

destinations – the Red River Gorge of Kentucky. In particular, he was my guide to

this community and continuous source for rock climbing fact checking, which he

served with incredible patience.

But of course, the dissertation is just one aspect of graduate school, and for an

individual to complete such a journey it really does take a village. First, I must

acknowledge my husband, Bryan Boyd, and partner in all things. Bryan has always

believed in me, often more than I believe in myself. His undying support has been

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essential to my strength to face all of life’s challenges and push my own limits,

academically and personally. Second, my family – my parents, Tim and Linda Rickly,

and sister, Pam Rickly – have offered love and endless encouragement, blindly

following and cheering along my rather whimsical curiosity. Third, the amazing

friendships I have developed in graduate school have provided a community and

sense of belonging I have never quite had before in my life. I was fortunate to enter

into such a warm and welcoming group of graduate students in IU’s Department of

Geography, and from this community I have formed lifelong friendships. In particular,

I wish to thank Lisa Braverman, my sounding board and partner in beans, and Becky

Clouser, a source of optimism and an always-available celebratory companion.

There are, of course, many others, and while I do not have room to go on about

everyone individually, I list them here as a way to recognize their significance –

Shanon Donnelly, Norma Froelich, Jim Hayes, Brian Johnson, Bradley Lane, Todd

Lindley, Michelle Metro-Roland, Ben Shultz, and Elizabeth Vidon.

I also need to take time to show my appreciation to the incredible mentors with

whom I have had the pleasure of interacting while in graduate school. Charles Greer

saw my potential and academic strengths well before I could recognize them myself

and encouraged me to enter graduate study. He advised my Master’s work, but

more importantly helped to focus my curiosity and reminded me not to lose sight of

what is most important. Dan Knudsen was an active member of my Master’s

committee before becoming my PhD research advisor. Dan has the keen ability to

discover and foster his students’ individual motivations. I thank him, especially, for

helping to shape my academic career by encouraging me to start performing the job

I ultimately want as early as possible. Dan is an amazing advocate for his students,

offering not only advice but opportunities for writing and publication, networking, and

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assistance with travel for research and professional development. I met my minor

advisor, Ed Linenthal, early in my PhD course work and grew fond of him very

quickly. He is a source of inspiration. Not only has Ed nurtured a successful career in

academics and is a leading scholar in his field, his enthusiasm, both in conversation

and in the classroom, are unmatched. I first encountered Dennis Conway as an

undergraduate. His intensity, yet humor and warmth, have resulted in amazing

conversations over the years that have always pushed my critical thinking. And I

want to give much appreciation to Dallen Timothy, as well, for his constructive

feedback from my comprehensive exams through the dissertation.

Some specific acknowledgements, in regard to the dissertation, are also due. By

receiving the Indiana University College of Arts and Sciences Dissertation Year

Fellowship, I was able to dedicate the vast majority of my time to completing the

fieldwork for this project and writing this dissertation. This fellowship affords

recipients an amazing opportunity to give their dissertation priority, by relinquishing

teaching responsibilities for one year. In addition, I also want to recognize Todd

Lindley for his cartography skills and the production of the maps in this work. And

last, but certainly not least, I must thank the climbers of The Red who made this

project possible by welcoming me into their community and opening up about their

motivations and experiences of living this lifestyle. I, most of all, hope this accurately

reflects their lives as extremely dedicated rock climbers.

vii

Jillian M. Rickly-Boyd

ON LIFESTYLE CLIMBERS: AN EXAMINATION OF ROCK CLIMBING DEDICATION, COMMUNITY, AND TRAVEL

Rock climbing is commonly referred to as an “extreme” sport in popular media

discourse for its higher degree of risk and individualist nature, compared to

traditional sports. However, most climbers describe it as a “lifestyle” sport, and for a

small subculture of the rock climbing community it becomes a way of life. These

most dedicated climbers give up permanent residence, sacrifice other opportunities,

and maintain a minimalist lifestyle in order to travel and climb full-time, for years on

end. This research examines the travel behavior, subcultural dynamics, and

motivations and experiences of lifestyle climbers by employing a series of

ethnographic methods that interrogate rock climbing media, online forums, and the

popular climbing destination of the Red River Gorge, Kentucky.

The rock climbing community is riddled with issues that divide it, including climbing

style, ethics, and regionality. Lifestyle climbers are a particularly performative

subculture of this community as they engage a number of exclusionary actions,

avoidance tactics, territorialization practices, and travel behaviors. Moreover, lifestyle

climbers also exhibit their own hierarchies, shared values, and rituals, as well as

identify a distinct historical lineage. Yet, despite the hypermobility and spatial

diffusion of individuals, lifestyle climbers emphasized the importance of community.

While these dedicated climbers indicated the desire for more frequent engagement

with rock climbing as a primary motivation, they also expressed existential

motivations, particularly a desire to (re)discover a sense of self. Yet, existential

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authenticity came more from the lifestyle experiences than the rock climbing. Thus, a

minimalist, mobile lifestyle driven by a passion for rock climbing results in more

frequent encounters with situations of challenge – on the rock face, in nature, at

campsites, and on the road.

More broadly, this research aims to interrogate the limitations and utility of discursive

and performative approaches in travel research. Because this study is concerned

with travel behavior, social and cultural community dynamics, and subjective

motivations and experiences, these approaches were found to be most useful when

paired. While individually limiting, together they presented complementary

frameworks for analysis, from structural networks to encounters with place.

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TABLE OF CONTENTS Acknowledgements ………………………………………………………………….….iv Abstract .…………………………………………………………………………………..vii List of Figures and Tables ………………………………………………………………x Chapter One: Introduction ……………………………………………………………….1

Research objectives ............................................................................................ 3 Thesis organization ............................................................................................. 5

Chapter Two: Rock Climbing …………………………………………………………..6 The sport ............................................................................................................. 7 The Red ............................................................................................................. 21 Rockclimbing.com ............................................................................................. 30 Academic analysis of the sport .......................................................................... 31

Chapter Three: Literature Review..……………………………………………………37 Pilgrims, tourists, drifters, and backpackers ...................................................... 38 Existential authenticity ....................................................................................... 47 Performance theory ........................................................................................... 51 Mobility studies .................................................................................................. 55

Chapter Four: Methodology …………………………………………………………….59 Ethnographic methods ...................................................................................... 59 Participant observation ...................................................................................... 62 Interviews .......................................................................................................... 64 Discourse analysis ............................................................................................. 67 Performative methodologies .............................................................................. 70 Questionnaires .................................................................................................. 71

Chapter Five: Results and Discussion ……………………………………………..76 What is a dirtbag? ............................................................................................. 77 Travel patterns ................................................................................................... 83 Community dynamics and structure .................................................................. 88 Motivations, goals, and experiences ............................................................... 133

Chapter Six: Conclusions …………………………………………………………….166 Community dynamics and travel behavior ...................................................... 167 Motivations and experiences ........................................................................... 170 Discursive versus performative approaches ................................................... 178 Future Research .............................................................................................. 181

Bibliography ……………………………………………………………………………..186 Appendix A: Map of Red River Gorge Climbing Area …………………………...197 Appendix B: Interview Questions …………………………………………………..198 Appendix C: Questionnaire …………………………………………………………..199 Appendix D: Dissertation Research Committee ………………………………….201 Curriculum Vitae ………………………………………………………………………..202

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LIST OF FIGURES AND TABLES Figure 1 - Map of Kentucky, with Red River Gorge highlighted ................................ 22 Figure 2 - Miguel's Pizza, Slade, Kentucky .............................................................. 25 Figure 3 - C & S Carryout, also known as the "Beer Trailer". ................................... 27 Figure 4 - Rocktoberfest 2011. ................................................................................. 73 Figure 5 - Rocktoberfest 2011. ................................................................................. 74 Figure 6 - Map of Leisure Climber Destinations by Frequency ................................ 85 Figure 7 - Map of Lifestyle Climber Destinations by Frequency ............................... 85 Figure 8 - Variations in camping accommodations at Miguel's Pizza ....................... 91 Figure 9 - Climber on computer at Miguel's Pizza. ................................................... 95 Figure 10 - Vans of lifestyle climbers, back corner of Miguel's Pizza parking lot. .. 100 Figure 11 - Packing for the day's climbing. ............................................................. 121 Figure 12 - Local bluegrass music at The Hitchin' Post. ........................................ 121 Figure 13 - Rocktoberfest (2011) and Red River Reunion (2012) Posters ............. 125 Figure 14 - Pendergrass-Murray Recreational Preserve, a target of vandalism .... 128 Figure 15 - A warm, spring afternoon. .................................................................... 141 Figure 16 - A cool, damp morning. ......................................................................... 141 Figure 17 - The female "climbing body" .................................................................. 144 Figure 18 - Head injury from a fall .......................................................................... 145 Figure 20 - Climbing hands .................................................................................... 146 Figure 21 - Rock climbing. ...................................................................................... 148

CHAPTER ONE: INTRODUCTION

“Dirtbagging, to me, is not based on a need to alienate oneself from society, but instead a

passion to seek out new experiences that force us to live completely in the moment, and

through that, achieve an entirely new level of appreciation for the simplest pleasures.”

(Stevens, 2010, p. 49)

Rock climbers are a highly mobile sport community. While cliff lines may be

accessible throughout the year, seasonality can greatly impact the quality of

climbing. Therefore, many climbing destinations have optimal seasons, for example

Hueco Tanks, Texas sees the greatest numbers in the winter months while the

Shawangunk Mountains in New York are most popular spring through fall. Thus,

travel has become intricately woven into rock climbing culture. In his guide to

American Rock, Mellor (2001, p.9) writes, “[c]limbingto me, isn’t just climbing. It’s

1

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experiencing place and people, and it’s relishing their variety.” For the majority of

rock climbers, travel to climb is infrequent, it is a hobby experienced outside of the

obligations of work and family. However, for a small subculture of climbers, an

intense enthusiasm for the sport drives them to pursue it full-time. Giving up

permanent residence, these itinerant climbers maintain minimalist lifestyles on the

road, living out of a van, most commonly. In doing so, they also enter into a

community of other non-sponsored, full-time climbers, taking on the collective

identity of “dirtbags” or “lifers” and traveling a “circuit” of climbing destinations. While

they are referred to as “lifestyle climbers” academically, such a phrase has not been

observed in this community, rather most prefer the term “dirtbag”, as well as “lifer”,

“full-timer” and “vanner”. More specifically, these dedicated climbers described this

lifestyle as “a very frugal existence” in which one is willing to “sacrifice in life’s

luxuries to maintain an intense climbing schedule” (Rockclimbing.com, 2011).

Moreover, this subculture has a long history among the climbing community, dating

to the 1960s and the point of origin of American rock climbing in Yosemite (Taylor,

2010).

While the motivations for such a lifestyle are primarily defined by a passion for

rock climbing, these lifestyle climbers also express existential, economic and political

reasons, some even giving up significant educational and employment opportunities

to undertake this pursuit. And because many come from backgrounds of relative

affluence, their behavior supports Urry’s (1990) claims that the new leisure class of

postmodern tourism is characterized by a descending social mobility (see also

Bourdieu (1984)). However, as one lifestyle climber describes, “the point is to gain

something physically and spiritually”, further illustrating the complexity of the

motivations, goals, and community dynamics of these peripatetic climbers. In some

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ways they are engaging in drifting (Cohen, 1972; 1973; 1979) or tramping (Adler,

1985), but their community networks also hint at aspects of backpacking (Riley,

1988; Noy, 2004a; 2004b; Shaffer, 2004; O’Reilly, 2006). Meanwhile, their

descriptions of existential and even spiritual experiences suggest commonalities with

pilgrimage (Cohen, 1992a; 1992b; Taylor, 2010), nature religions (Taylor, 2007) or

spiritual journeys (Timothy & Olsen, 2006). Moreover, the focused agenda on rock

climbing and full-time travel relates to the notion of lifestyle mobilities (Baerenholdt &

Granas, 2008; Benson & O’Reilly, 2009a; 2009b; Cohen, 2010a; 2010b; 2011).

Because members of this community are widely dispersed around the world, it

is a particularly difficult group to study. Therefore, one popular climbing destination

was chosen as the study site for this project. The Red River Gorge in eastern

Kentucky is one of the premier sport climbing destinations in the world. While one

can find climbers in the region year-round, the population is quite small in the winter

and summer months; it grows in the springtime, but it receives the largest number of

rock climbers in the fall, between September and December. This study examines

the rock climbing community in eastern Kentucky, with particular attention to the

smaller subculture of lifestyle climbers who moor in this region for a few months of

the year. In addition, online community resources and rock climbing media are also

considered.

Research objectives

The research objectives for this project are three-fold. Fist, and most broadly,

this research is aimed at examining the spatial networks, community structure and

dynamics of lifestyle rock climbers. However, because this community is spatially

diffuse and highly mobile, it is difficult to examine in its entirety. D’Andrea (2006)

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suggests ethnographic methods are most useful for examining highly mobile

communities. Therefore, this project investigates one climbing destination among a

vast network of community nodes – the Red River Gorge of eastern Kentucky. From

August through November 2011 an ethnographic approach, employing participant

observation and interviews, was used to examine the structure and dynamics of the

rock climbing community of “The Red”. In addition to observational and interview

data, questionnaires pertaining to the demographics and travel patterns of rock

climbers were used to further investigate their spatial dynamics and community

structure. In order to examine the mechanisms that aid community cohesion, the

forum on Rockclimbing.com, the most popular website dedicated to the sport, has

also been analyzed.

Second, and more specifically, this project is focused on the motivations,

experiences and goals of these peripatetic, full-time climbers. Discourse analysis of

all Rockclimbing.com forum threads containing the word “dirtbag”, equaling 3433

individual posts, were used to build preliminary theories about lifestyle climber

motivations, experiences, and goals that were then tested through observation and

interviews in eastern Kentucky. Interviews provide a way to interrogate the

generalizability of findings in The Red to the larger network of lifestyle climbers

represented on the community forums. Employing participant observation in

conjunction with interviews thus establishes a complementary framework useful for

investigating variation between words and actions, between what people say and

what they do.

Third, an overall objective is to contribute to the development of performative

and non-representational theories in cultural geography and tourism studies. These

perspectives are relatively new to these areas of study but are becoming

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increasingly employed under circumstances in which theoretical frameworks

grounded in structural and discursive perspectives are limiting. Because this project

concerns the embodied experiences, enacted spaces, and community networks of

lifestyle rock climbers, it offers a case in which to interrogate performative and

discursive theories.

Thesis organization

This work begins with an introduction to rock climbing as a sport, its place in

Red River Gorge, Kentucky, as well as online sources, and how it has been

examined in academic literature. Next, the literature that informs this study is

reviewed. Because lifestyle climbers exhibit similarities with a number of travel

phenomena, the typologies of pilgrim, tourist, drifter and backpacker are presented.

Existential authenticity offers a framework through which to consider lifestyle climber

motivations and experiences, but to develop this further, particularly in light of the

experiences of rock climbing, performance theories are also useful. The literature on

lifestyle mobilities is also considered, as another similarly related travel strategy. The

methodologies that have been used throughout this study, including the

ethnographic methods of participant observation and interviews, along with

discourse analysis, performative methodologies, and questionnaires, are then

presented. This is followed by the results. These are discussed in terms of travel

patterns, community structure, and motivations, goals, and experiences of lifestyle

climbers. Finally, conclusions as to the dynamics of this full-time pursuit of rock

climbing are offered, as well as theoretical findings in regards to the complementarity

of discursive and performative theories in travel research.

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CHAPTER TWO: ROCK CLIMBING

“Climbing’s rules were developed by upper-middling Victorians who borrowed aristocratic traditions of chivalrous masculinity to create a tempering contest with nature. That game has

now attracted young men for 150 years.”

(Taylor, 2010, p. 6)

Categorized as an alternative sport because it is more participant-focused, similar to

skiing, surfing, and mountain biking, rock climbing is commonly held in opposition to

more traditional, spectator-oriented sports, such as basketball, baseball, and soccer.

What follows in this chapter is a brief history and description of rock climbing, an

introduction to its place in the Red River Gorge, as well as the online community of

Rockclimbing.com, and finally a review of scholarly analysis of the sport to date.

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The sport

The Romantic era in Europe ushered in new perspectives on nature and

recreation (see Zaring, 1977). Mountaineering, what many consider to be the

antecedent of contemporary rock climbing, came about during this period (Nettlefold

& Stratford, 1999; Taylor, 2010). Nettlefold and Stratford suggest, “the first ascent in

1786 of Mont Blanc (western Europe’s highest peak) is pivotal in the emergence of

mountaineering” (1999, p. 132). Indeed, the first ascent of Mont Blanc tells us much

about shifting ideologies toward the natural world, as it took 25 years of preparation

and development of techniques for this successful endeavor. The changing

perspectives and aesthetics regarding mountains in the mid-1700s brought about

new desires to get in touch with this sublimity, emotionally and scientifically (Zaring,

1977; Nettlefold & Stratford, 1999; Taylor, 2010).

By the mid-1800s, the “Golden Age” of mountaineering had begun and a

series of “Alpine Clubs” had developed, comprised of mostly Brits from the

“gentlemanly classes”, who, ironically, employed the most impoverished of local

residents as guides to oversee their successful ascents (Frison-Roche & Jouty,

1996). Williams and Donnelly (1985) note that it was also during this time that the

social ideals of “muscular Christianity” and “sportsmanship” were being made

manifest in the sport, so that particular emphasis was placed on first ascents, and

therefore a differentiation between “conquered/done” and “virgin” peaks. But as the

last of the “virgin” peaks fell, the sport of rock climbing, as distinct from

mountaineering, came on the rise as climbers began to claim first ascents of specific

mountain faces, ridges, and secondary peaks (Frison-Roche & Jouty, 1996). Out

these challenges came a more solidified, although not uncontested, definition of rock

climbing - “a game focused on a very definite achievement: the ascent, in specified

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style, of specific routes on a cliff” (Hamilton, 1979, p. 285; see also Tejada-

Flores,1967). This interpretation, which focused on “the concept of specific climbing

routes independent of the need for a geographical summit, or for mountains in

general”, is critical (Nettlefold and Stratford, 1999, p. 136).

American rock climbing

It was during this time of increasing differentiation that both mountaineering

and rock climbing clubs were developing in the United States. Yet, the same debates

that were dividing clubs in Europe were also being hashed out across America.

Arguably, the most heated of debates centered on ideals of purity and climbing

ethics. “Free climbing”, ascending only by means of hand and feet, was considered

“the only true form of the sport”, so that the 1883 ascent of the Dent du Géant, a rock

pillar on Mont Blanc, using pitons and fixed ropes was reported as “climbing’s

moment of original sin” (Taylor, 2010, p. 31). This technique of using additional gear

to facilitate ascent came to be known as “aid climbing”. Consequently, the new clubs

of America’s burgeoning climbing community were founded on strong principles; the

rope is intended for safety, not a physical aid in climbing and all gear used to ascend

a route should be temporary (Taylor, 2010).

Climbing clubs witnessed an influx of middle class members at the turn of the

20th century, and this was particularly the case in the States. Taylor (2010, p. 35)

observes, “middle-class Americans self-consciously distinguished themselves

through modes of consumption and social activities that included vigorous

physicality”; they established their identities through leisure. The American Alpine

Club, Sierra Club and Appalachian Mountain Club were among the most active clubs

to institutionalize these links between play, identity and modernity, as well as

9

establish environmental political forces on both the east and west coasts (Taylor,

2010). Moreover, these American clubs were relatively open, recruiting men and

women. As their numbers grew, so did their regional associations which organized

outings and training camps as well as established membership tests of basic skills,

such as belaying1 and rappelling2. This was also the period when “bouldering”

became popular. Bouldering is a style of climbing that began, as its name suggests,

on large boulders. Routes, or “problems”, are generally no taller than 20 feet and

therefore no rope or protection devices are used, only a large “crash” pad for

landing. Bouldering offered climbing experience and technique training, in between

trips to the mountains. This was particularly the case for the Bay Area and Southern

California clubs (Taylor, 2010).

Thus, American clubs transformed rock climbing into a social sport. Despite its

image as an individual endeavor, group outings, publications and camaraderie

became central. “The club domesticated the sport”, writes Taylor, “its blend of safety

and heterosociality helped legitimate climbing in the eyes of the Sierra Club and the

National Park Service” (2010, p. 89). Interestingly, it was the skills these early

climbers had themselves valued – rope techniques, wilderness survival, and level-

headedness – that made them desirable and successful soldiers in WWII. In fact, so

many climbers enlisted that they feared their clubs would wither away. But the strong

sense of community they had established remained as they spread around the

world, and club newsletters became coveted items in the barracks (Taylor, 2010).

These climbers had nearly as great an impact on military innovations as

military innovations had on the sport. Because of their wilderness experience, 1 Belaying is the system used to catch a climber, as well as to hold the climber’s weight while lowering her/him to the ground. 2 To rappel is to descend a vertical surface, such as a cliff or wall, using a belay technique.

10

several were appointed to research positions. Bestor Robinson headed a team of

researchers to develop textiles for mountain and arctic warfare, and Dick Leonard

refined climbing gear (Taylor, 2010). After a decade of frustration, due to wartime

rations on materials, these two Sierra Club climbers were now “ordered to create the

very things they desired [...] and they had access to the most advanced textiles and

metallurgy in the world” (2010, p. 94). After the War these military innovations

revolutionized the sport and pushed climbing into entirely new areas of rock and ice,

as “cotton, crepe, manila, rubber, silk, sisal, and wool gave way to Kevlar, Nylon,

Perlon, Spandex, and other petroleum-based synthetics, while aluminum and exotic

alloys replaced iron and steel” (Taylor, 2010, p. 95; see also Mellor, 2001).

However, the social thread that bound many clubs together prior to WWII

changed drastically after the war. While clubs continued to be the primary

negotiating force for land access, the 1950s saw a new type of climber, who Taylor

(2010) describes as the “individualists” and the “experientialists”, that caused rifts in

both the community and the climbing ethic. Younger climbers began venturing onto

rock faces solo or in small groups outside the organization of clubs, many ill-

prepared to do so, which resulted in an increased number of rescues and recoveries

by the NPS, others pushed the limits of what was considered climbable, gaining

some admiration and some contempt along the way. The Beatnik climbers, in

particular, fashioned an entirely new ideology of the sport. Taylor (2010, p. 131)

argues, “they developed a novel philosophy, one that simultaneously honored

tradition and championed a countercultural quest for authentic experience.” This is a

group especially noted for bringing the elements of travel and climbing together,

rather than simply focusing on Yosemite or other regional hotspots, as many prior to

them had done, the “experientialists” took to the road and followed the climbing

11

season across the country, or at least along the West Coast (Mellor, 2001; Taylor,

2010). Mellor (2001), influenced by this line of thought, argues that climbing is as

much about experiencing place as it about scaling rock.

Among the first to turn climbing into a lifestyle was Mark Powell, who began a

seasonal rhythm of winter working, saving money, and training in Los Angeles,

followed by a move to Yosemite for climbing spring through fall. By the late 1950s,

Powell was “simply the best”, and by dedicating himself to the pursuit of experience

he changed the sport (Taylor, 2010, p. 134). A fellow climber wrote of the time, “he

showed us all that climbing can be a way of life and a basis for a philosophy” (Pratt,

1965, p. 346). Powell’s new lifestyle in Yosemite also established the now

(in)famous Camp 4, where climbers still camp for weeks to months at a time. They

became what Cailly (2006) describes as “multi-territorialized tribes”. Taylor (2010)

identifies several commonalities among the Beatnik climbers that made their

perspectives on society and the sport far different from their predecessors:

These communities were filled with loners and outcasts by chance and design. [...] More common were some very well-educated young men rebelling against a world that had groomed them. Nearly all attended college, most had degrees, and a few were in graduate school before choosing climbing instead. As in the past, Beats embraced the sport as a way to construct the self [...] It was a tightly knit yet fluid society, with members coming and going through the year: spring in Yosemite and the Southwest, summer in the Tetons, Rockies, and Alaska, and fall back in the valley (p. 138-140).

The fact that they called themselves a “brotherhood” was no understatement;

this was a nearly all male club. “’Women and their demands for responsibility were,

at worst, irritating and more often just uninteresting’. Except, of course, when it came

to sex [which] was the second most frequent topic” of conversation, behind climbing

(Taylor, 2010, p. 141 quoting Ehrenreich, 1983, p. 54).

As this group pushed the limits of their bodies, their sanity, and their

substance tolerance, they also pushed the limits of the sport. Moreover, the Beats

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were the first generation to make a living from the sport, earning money from writing

essays and guidebooks, developing new gear, or acting as climbing and wilderness

guides in order to support their full time rock climbing; sponsorship opportunities

came only to the later generations. As such, the climbers of the 1950s-60s are seen

by many as the forefathers of today’s rock climbers, especially Royal Robbins and

Warren Harding, whose tit-for-tat climbing spree through Yosemite brought about a

new level of debate regarding route ethics and the use of protective gear on the rock

face (Mellor, 2001; Taylor, 2010). While traditional, or free climbing, remained the

mantra of most climbers, the increased use of permanent bolts to access what

seemed unclimbable was making aid climbing all the more popular. The purity of this

approach was fiercely argued in campgrounds and in publications, but the growing

popularity of the sport and this opportunity to access new lines ultimately won out.

The majority had decided permanently fixed anchors were tolerable, but only on

certain routes and when used with care. Of course, each new route was a new

debate in this regard.

By the late 1960s and into the 1970s the social scene of the rock climbing

world continued to evolve so that the Beats were now the “elders” as they neared

their thirties, and they viewed the next generation as overly “arrogant”, “vulgar”, and

lacking commitment (Taylor, 2010). While they saw their own “limit-pushing” as

philosophical, they regarded these “dirtbags” as interested only in recreation, as they

over indulged in everything from poverty to drugs (Childs, 1999; Taylor, 2010).

Leading this revolution at Yosemite’s Camp 4 was Jim Bridwell, who was considered

the best climber in America, at a time when American climbers were noted as the

best in the world (Taylor, 2010). These years of rapid growth, particularly in

Yosemite, raised a new ethical issue. The argument that had framed free climbing

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for so many years - its overall lack of a permanent impacts - was actually starting to

erode the most popular cracks as each set of climbers hammered in and out pitons3

(Taylor, 2010). Thus a “clean” climbing ethic was born, with new gear developed,

including chocks4 (or nuts). This new debate waged, however, without much notice

of the ecological impacts of the “gardening”5 cracks and “cleaning”6 rock faces

inherent to all climbing styles. Most ironically, Taylor (2010, p. 208) notes, “the only

technology that did not threaten vertical ecology was the bolt”.

In the mid-1970s the brotherhood of elite climbers was starting to be

challenged, most notably by Beverly Johnson who had climbed rock across the U.S.

before settling in Camp 4. With her nickname of “5.10 Bev”7, she was treated as

more of a gender metric than a fellow climber. “If I get up, it’s 5.10, and if I don’t it’s

5.11”, she is quoted as saying (Zim, 1996, p. 53). Taylor notes however, “Johnson’s

quest to become one of the boys was paralleled by her drive to be first among girls”

(2010, p. 219). Several other women soon joined Camp 4, as well as embarked on

expeditions across the globe. This divided the community: critics argued that all-

women expeditions “suffered a confusion of goals, that they promoted underqualified

climbers for gender’s sake”, while others accused these same critics of

“overemphasizing accidents and posing double standards” (Taylor, 2010, p. 221; see

also Dilley & Scraton, 2010). To combat this, Johnson asserted, “rocks make no

3 A piton is a metal spike, usually made of steel, that is hammered into a crack or seam in the rock to act as a protection device against the consequences of a fall, or to assist in aid climbing. They have an eye hole or a ring at one end to attach a carabineer. 4 A chock or nut is a metal wedge threaded on a metal wire. It is used for protection by wedging it into a crack in the rock and a carabineer is clipped to the nut wire. 5 To garden a rock face means to remove any plants that are growing along the route. 6 Cleaning includes some “gardening” of the rock face, as well as removing debris and loose pieces of rock. 7 Rock climbing routes are graded within the fifth class of the Yosemite Decimal System (YDS), beginning at 5.0 and the most difficult grade currently at 5.15. Please see the following section for a full explanation of the YDS.

14

compromise for sex” (Moses, 1978, p. 70), and conceded, “I do think women are

weaker” (Roberts, 1981, p. 87), as she continued to use the same gendered

metaphors to describe her climbs. Lynn Hill, however, came out this of time as one

of the most famous climbers in the world not only for her skill (she climbed the most

difficult grade of route by the age of twenty), but also her participation in new

techniques, televised climbing competitions, and other media campaigns.

Hill started as a traditionalist, even advocating for this stance in the “Great

Debate” hosted by the American Alpine Club in 1986 (Taylor, 2010). But she, along

with many others, began to see the potential of sport climbing and organized

competitions to revitalize the sport and offer monetary opportunities. Sport climbing

relies on permanently fixed anchors in the rock, into which the climber attaches a

quick draw and threads the rope through. Sport climbing, like traditional climbing is

considered a type of free climbing, because the climber uses his/her own body, not

placed aids, to ascend the rock face. In contrast to traditional climbing, though, sport

climbing places less emphasis on upward progress and more emphasis on strength,

endurance and athletic ability. Part of what catapulted sport climbing into the global

climbing arena were new developments in shoe rubber, which made them incredibly

sticky and therefore necessary for attempting steep, overhanging cliffs. But these

new shoes were being used across climbing styles, and opening up a series of more

difficult routes, including a number of 5.12s8 and even a 5.139 climbed by Ray

Jardine in the mid-1970s (Taylor, 2010). And after a trip to Europe in the mid-1980s,

where sport climbing and Lycra were more popular, once traditionalist Ron Kauk

8 See the following section regarding the Yosemite Decimal System of grading used in rock climbing. 9 Ibid.

15

returned to the U.S. arguing, “bolts could revive the stagnating scene in Yosemite”

(Huber & Zak, 2003, p. 76).

The birthplace of sport climbing, however, was not in Yosemite, or even

California, but in the area of Bend, Oregon called Smith Rock (Mellor, 2001). This is

the site of America’s first 5.1410 route, climbed by French climber J.B. Tribout in his

1988 visit. Smith Rock was a significant starting place for sport climbing; “the place

simply wouldn’t be much of a climbing area without new tactics. The rock is soft, and

the cracks are few” (Mellor, 2001, p. 34). While new bolting tactics, completed by

top-down techniques were met with opposition at every new route in Yosemite,

Smith Rock was outside of that scene. To its pioneers, Jack Watts and Jim Ramsey,

“the adoption of Eurotactics wasn’t simply a cheap way to get harder routes; it was

the only sensible way to proceed” (2001, p. 35).

Despite Bridwell’s earlier claims that the “first rule of climbing is there are no

rules” (Raleigh, 2008, p. 46), new techniques for mastering these sport routes also

caused controversy. Jardine had started a common French climbing practice of

“working the route” when he traveled to Yosemite, which critics began calling “hang-

dogging” (Mellor, 2001; Taylor, 2010). Rather than returning to the ground after a

fall, he rested on the rope, studied the rock, and then attempted the sequence again

(Heywood, 1994; Kiewa, 2002). In response, Yvon Chouinard made t-shirts that read

“The Devil is Hangdog” and “Sport Climbing is Neither”. This led to new terminology

in the sport, “invented to capture relative spontaneity and virtuosity of ascents, ‘On-

Sight’11, ‘Flash’12, ‘Redpoint’13, and ‘Pinkpoint’14” (Taylor, 2010, p. 229), even though

10 Ibid. 11 To “on-sight” a climb means to complete a route on the first attempt, without any previous information, or “beta”, any pre-placed equipment, such as quickdraws, and without resting on the

16

both traditional and sport climbers agreed that a true first ascent proceeded from the

ground. Nevertheless, the greatest changes to the sport in the 1980s and into the

1990s, argues Mellor (2001, p. 13), were the “proliferation of sport climbs. Not only

has the top-down approach opened up terrain considered unclimbable before, but

it’s also led to an explosion of new routes”.

While sport climbing was born out of efforts to make areas that were

unclimbable by traditional and aid climbing methods possible, in the 1990s this

incarnation of climbing became popular because of the entirely novel approach it

offered athletes. In particular, Bisharat (2009) cites the “next generation” of the

1990s, those climbers who came of age after the hardest battles had already been

fought between traditional and sport climbers, as the most positive development in

sport climbing’s reputation. “They weren’t products of any stylistic or ethical

antagonisms. They were just psyched on free climbing as hard as they could –

whether on boulders, sport routes, or in comps, it didn't really matter. It was all seen

as part of one thing” (Bisharat, 2009, p. 37).

In many ways, sport climbing is an attempt at pure climbing (Bisharat, 2009).

Whereas traditional and aid climbers require large racks of gear to attempt a route,

less equipment is needed with sport climbing. Bolts placed along the route allow the

rope. Onsighting is significant in the climbing community as it is a measure of the skills of route finding, problem solving, and quick thinking on the rock face. 12 Similar to on-sighting, to flash a route means to successfully and cleanly complete a climbing route on the first attempt. However, to flash a route means to have received beta of some kind, including verbal communication about the route’s line or specific holds, or video or photographs of the route. 13 To redpoint refers to a completion of a route, after unsuccessful attempts, and is done without falling or resting on the rope. 14 To pinkpoint is to complete a climb without falling or resting on the rope, but using pre-placed protection and carabiners.

17

climber to carry only quickdraws15, along with a few other tools. This has also

resulted in more streamlined harnesses, and therefore, less encumbered movement

on the rock face. Sport climbing evolved with an emphasis on movement, the

gymnastic and dynamic motility of the climber, along with strength and endurance

(Bisharat, 2009). While “working the route” was criticized in traditional climbing, it is

part of the process of sport climbing. Sport routes tend to be shorter than traditional

routes, yet the complexity of portions of a route may require more specific

choreography. Over time, therefore, the terms used to define the “virtuosity of

ascents” have changed within sport climbing. “Pinkpoint” is no longer used, for

example, and because all sport routes contain bolts, and sometimes permadraws16,

the definition of “on-sight” and “flash”, no longer reference the presence of “pre-

placed gear”. Despite its popularity among climbers today, few histories of the sport

elaborate on these distinctions. Rather they end the historical trajectory of rock

climbing with commercialization of the sport and the rise of climbing gyms, glossing

over sport climbing as if a manifestation of these processes. Taylor (2010), for

example, situates the rise of sport climbing between the invasion of “Eurotactics” and

the “consumer” turn in the sport. Yet, as this research shows, sport climbing is much

more complex.

As soon as the Beatnik generation of climbers in 1950s illustrated that

climbing could be a lifestyle, with enough frugality and working odd jobs, climbers

began to emulate their strategies and adopt new ones. The top climbers of the

15 A quickdraw is a piece of climbing equipment which contains two carbineers connected by a sewn loop of webbing. When sport climbing, the climber will clip the carbineer on one end to the bolt on the rock face and will clip the rope to the other carbineer. 16 A permadraw is the same use and configuration of a quickdraw but contains steel cable or chain in place of sewn webbing. Therefore, permadraws are be to permanently installed on a route and will not experience the weathering of leaving quickdraws to hang on the rock face.

18

1980s, however, took advantage of new media opportunities that afforded them a

much more comfortable lifestyle. Some began to allow their likeness to be used in

advertising of outdoor gear; others became the centerpiece for outdoor recreational

photography and videography, and a few worked as stunt doubles for some of

Hollywood’s most famous celebrities, including Sylvester Stallone in Cliffhanger

(Taylor, 2010). This further sensationalized and commodified the sport, but also

offered more opportunities. Lynn Hill, for example, describes climbing as a job, which

requires working “five days a week, eight hours a day, and [...] a lot of overtime” (Hill

& Child, 2002, p. 105). It is worth noting that even today Hill’s climbing camps and

media appearances are a major source of her income. More substantial, though, are

her sponsorships, which are a primary income for professional climbers today.

Sponsors include outdoor equipment, climbing gear and clothing companies for the

most part.

The entrance of rock climbing into popular culture in the 1990s has resulted in

a rapidly growing climbing gym industry, complete with annual conferences and

organizations, such as the Climbing Wall Association. In 1990 the number of active

indoor climbers in the U.S. was estimated at about 150,000, by 2004 this had

increased to 7.6 million (Taylor, 2010 p. 255). The sport is now urbanized; one can

be a climber anywhere and Urban Climber magazine, started in the early 2000s,

illustrates this. Climbers have grown more cosmopolitan, observes Taylor (2010).

Expanded participation and travel has also created ever more subsets, and the more

populous and diverse the community has become, the easier it is to socialize only

with those who exactly mirror each other in identity, values, and ambitions (Taylor,

2010, p. 248). Thus, Taylor (2010) argues, gyms are building a new “tribalism” in the

sport, paralleling older order clubs from the pre-WWII climbing cultures, and in so

19

doing they have institutionalized basic technique training, including belay instruction,

top ropes, and safety calls. But that does not mean these “gym rats” are ready to

climb outdoors. Mellor (2001, p. 44) concedes a common attitude when he writes

“indoor climbing isn’t rock climbing. It trains and it entertains”. Indeed, the lack of

knowledge of many newcomers who have pushed their limits indoors has resulted in

conflict, unrecognized risk, injuries and even death outdoors (Palmer, 2002). That is,

many argue that the contestation among outdoor and gym-trained climbers is rooted

in the fact that learning in an indoor setting does not equip one with the ability to

recognize danger and risk that comes only on natural rock and surrounding hazards.

Unfortunately, these are the incidents that make media headlines, and

professional and elite amateur climbers retort with claims that “climbing is no more

dangerous than, say, driving a car” (Taylor, 2010, p. 260). But the actuarials are

nowhere near the same, admits Taylor (2010; see also Palmer, 2002). The

difference, many will continue to argue, is in understanding the risk one is taking,

and embracing it (see Heywood, 2006; Lewis, 2004). The new, larger and diverse

community of rock climbers coming from indoor gyms does not always understand

the full risks they are embarking upon when attempting an outdoor rock face.

These new debates, and old favorites, continue to be waged in campgrounds,

publications, and now across the Internet. A series of online community forums, from

larger, encompassing sites such as Rockclimbing.com, to regional websites like

Redriverclimbing.com, are at the forefront of the evolving rock climbing community;

thus maintaining a sense of regionalism (Mellor, 2001), with less isolation.

20

Yosemite Decimal System

American climbing routes are classed using the Yosemite Decimal System

(YDS), which was developed from German alpinist Willo Welzenbach’s 1920s

system17 (Taylor, 2010). The original system rates climbs in first through sixth class,

so that steep trails are in the first class and hiking that involves scrambling and

requires some handholds are second and third class. The hardest levels of free-

climbing, “where ropes and other gear are used only to stop a fall” are a part of the

fifth class, and the sixth class includes aid climbing “where the climber ascends by

standing in stirrup ladders attached usually to pitons driven into cracks” (Mellor,

2001, p. 28). In the 1950s a group of Tahquitz climbers took the fifth class and

expanded it into grades to apply to rock climbing, specifically, by adding a decimal

component so as to describe the difficulty levels (Mellor, 2001). Route grades start at

5.0, and until 1960 reached only as high as 5.9 when more difficult lines were

climbed. Routes rated 5.10 and higher are further delineated by a letter grade

(a,b,c,d), so that a 5.13a route is easier than a 5.13d and a +/- suffix is sometimes

added to be further descriptive (Cinnamon, 1994; Mellor, 2001; Taylor, 2010). The

highest grade of route successfully ascended is recorded at 5.15. Grades are based

on the most difficult move in the route. These grades are, therefore, quite subjective.

While the climber who completes the first ascent assigns a route’s grade,

subsequent climbers can challenge it. Adding to this subjectivity, some climbing

regions have developed reputations for “soft” and “hard” ratings. Therefore, most

guidebooks accompany a route’s grade with a 5-star quality scale.

17 Other countries and regions of the world use different grading and classing systems than the United States for rock climbing, mountaineering, bouldering, ice climbing, etc. For rock climbing, in particular, the most well known systems include the British, UIAA (Central Europe), French, Saxon, Brazilian, and Ewbank (Australia, New Zealand, and South Africa).

21

Aid climbing, because it is technically in the sixth class of the YDS, uses a

grading system that spans A0, meaning the climber uses fixed gear, to A5 in which

the climber places their own aids, but placement is difficult and far between

(Cinnamon, 1994). Clean climbing is aid climbing without the use of pitons or other

devices that scar the rock. So it too has its own grading scale, from C0-C5. The

highest grade indicates that aid pieces will only be able to hold one’s weight, but not

a fall. A V-system (V0-V16), with the use of +/- qualifiers, grades bouldering

problems. Likewise, mountaineering, ice climbing, and mixed climbing also have

separate grading systems.

The Red

The Red River Gorge Geological Area, as it is officially named, sits in eastern

Kentucky at the foothills of the Appalachian Mountains (Figure 1). This area has

been carved out by the Red River and its tributaries, exposing cliffs up to 200 feet

tall of Corbin Sandstone interwoven with limonite and iron-oxide, giving the rock a

red appearance (Ellington, 2007). Much of the gorge area, about 2.1 million acres

(44 square miles), is preserved within the Daniel Boone National Forest and another

13,000 acres are designated as National Wilderness Land (Ellington, 2007). While

historically the majority of rock formations developed for climbing were found in the

Red River Gorge, a growing number lie outside the river system. Nevertheless, this

name has been applied more broadly to the climbing region as a whole and termed

“The Red” or “The Gorge”. A map of the climbing areas of the Red River Gorge can

be found in Appendix A.

22

Figure 1 - Map of Kentucky, with Red River Gorge highlighted

(Map by Todd Lindley)

Among rock climbing destinations in the United States, let alone Europe, the

Red River Gorge region is relatively new on the scene. It is now, however, known as

one of the world’s premier sport climbing destinations. Whereas places like Yosemite

have had active climbing since the 1940s (Taylor, 2010), it was not until 1969 that

the first recorded ascents took place in The Red (Ellington, 2007). The early climbers

employed a traditional climbing style inspired by the “clean climbing” ethic (Ellington,

2007). Larry Day recalls from this period, “We were so determined not to spoil the

place we loved that we refused even the temptation of chalk” (Ellington, 2007, p.

121). In the late 1970s the first guidebook for the area was published containing just

over 80 lines (Ellington, 2007).

23

The 1980s saw an expansion of established routes as, “a new generation of

climbers stormed The Red with better gear, better shoes, bigger muscles, and wild

tights” (Ellington, 2007, p. 25). This, however, was just a taste of the activity that

would come to the Kentucky climbing scene. The history of rock climbing in The

Red, argues Mellor (2001) can be divided into two eras: before Porter and after

Porter. In the early 1990s a young climber named Porter Jarrard quickened the pace

of development. He would become a bit of a legend in the climbing community.

Jarrad’s geography training was essential to reading the topographical maps and

aerial photography depicting “Kentucky’s chaotic topography [...] with ridges and

‘hollers’, steep and junglelike” (Mellor, 2001, p. 112). New technology for bolting

routes, particularly better power drills, brought the once unclimbable, pocketed, and

overhanging sandstone walls into play. In 1990 alone Jarrard bolted 20 new sport

lines (Ellington, 2007). The publication of a new guidebook in 1993 contained nearly

700 routes (Bronaugh, 1993). “It was clear that sport climbing was changing the face

of rock climbing at the Red River Gorge”, argues Ellington (2007, p. 26). Just a few

years later, in 1998, Bronaugh added another 300 routes to his guidebook.

While most of the routes of 1970s-80s ranged from 5.9 - 5.11, routes of the

1990s pushed the scale to 5.13, further drawing the world’s top climbers to The Red

and adding to its growing reputation. According to Ramsey (2007, p. 10), “Climbs

considered ‘bad’ here would be four-star classics at most places.” Yet, only a small

portion of the region’s potential has been uncovered. Mellor (2001, p. 111) exclaims,

“when all the southern canyons are explored, all the escarpments of the Cumberland

Plateau discovered and documented, the state of Kentucky will probably show the

most rock, will probably turn out to be the mother lode of southeastern sandstone”.

Indeed, the year 2000 solidified a 5.14 grade route in the region, as well as

24

witnessed lines of climbers waiting for some of the region’s most popular routes and

overwhelmed campgrounds (Ellington, 2007). Ellington’s first guidebook, published

in 2005, contained over 1300 routes, the 2007 edition increased the number to over

1600, and by 2009 there were over 2000 recorded routes.

Miguel’s Pizza and the local community

An important element of this area’s social reputation and community

significance is Miguel’s Pizza. Located in Slade, Kentucky, Miguel’s provides parking

and camping accommodations at $2/day, restroom facilities, token-based laundry

and showers facilities, food, drink, and most recently Wi-Fi (Figure 2). As the

climbing community has grown so has Miguel’s. It can now accommodate more than

150 tents, or about 500 campers. During Rocktoberfest, however, these numbers

can push even higher as campers spill out of the campgrounds and many sleep in

vehicles in the parking lot. Miguel’s is the point of origin for directions to all locations

around the Red. In fact, Ellington’s 2007 guidebook provides directions to all crags18

from the pizzeria. Moreover, Willey (2008, p. 173) describes Miguel’s as a bit of

reverse discrimination, “A pizza box tacked to a tree out front reads ‘Climbers Only’”.

Miguel Ventura, an immigrant from Portugal, started the pizzeria in 1985. That

year two climbers, Martin Hackworth and Tom Martin, asked if they could start

selling some gear at his shop (Ellington, 2007). Soon this became a hangout spot for

climbers. Although the community was small in the mid-1980s, the revenue

Hackworth earned from his gear sales helped put him through college (Ellington,

2007). After Hackworth finished college in the early 1990s, he stopped selling gear 18 A crag is defined as a natural cliff face “with a collection of routes” (Bisharat, 2009, p. 245). However, “cragging” is more associated with sport climbing than traditional climbing and there is an implication of social space to this term, so that one may expect to encounter other climbers at a crag.

25

through the pizzeria and moved away (Ellington, 2007). This did not slow the number

of climbers heading towards Miguel’s, however; it had become solidified in the

climbing community. Miguel had set up campgrounds to accommodate the climbers,

offering no charge at first. Eventually Miguel started selling climbing gear and

clothing himself. A dedicated cook and gardener, Miguel would put in 10-12 hour

days, starting at five o’clock in the morning making dough for the evening’s orders

(Willey, 2008). In fact, with the rapid influx of new climbers to the area by the late-

1990s it was not uncommon for the pizzeria to run out of food on weekend nights as

hundreds of climbers congregate.

Figure 2 - Miguel's Pizza, Slade, Kentucky. View from parking lot. Photograph by Bryan Boyd, used with permission.

26

Miguel’s Pizza offers a space for climbers to gather, perhaps its centrality to

the community results from the fact that it extends beyond a space to a mutual

respect. Miguel says, “I couldn’t do this for tourists. I just couldn’t. It would be boring.

… I get along with climbers” (Willey, 2008, p.173). Moreover, Miguel admits to his

own soul searching as a young man, “We all try to make sense of our own lives. I did

the same thing [the climbers here] are doing – I traveled for eight years and was an

artist” (Willey, 2008, p.173). Miguel’s empathy for young, traveling rock climbers has

resulted in a number of employment opportunities at the pizzeria. In fact, many full

time climbers support their time in The Red and on the road with earnings from

working at the pizzeria, from cook to dishwasher. Likewise, other local businesses,

Red River Outdoors in particular, offers guiding jobs spring to fall for the more

mature and certified climbers.

While this community is made up of climbers of varying proximity and

dedication, equally important is the diversity of climbing styles. “It is one of the few

places where large factions of sport climbers and traditional climbers not only

manage to coexist, but extend to one another a degree of mutual admiration”

(Ramsey, 2007, p. 11). In addition, a small community of boulderers finds a home

here.

In addition, many locals welcome climbers as a new revenue source. C&S

Carryout, affectionately named “The Beer Trailer” by climbers, credits the climbing

community for its success. They have even embraced the colloquial name and have

turned to social networking, Facebook in particular, to extend these ties. With the

recent economic downturn, Darlene, owner of C&S Carryout, states, “if it were not

for the climbers we would be out of business” (Personal correspondence, 2010). In

August 2010 they added a new sign to the building, “Welcome Rock Climbers”

27

(Figure 3). Moreover, in the 2007 RRG climbing guidebook the author includes a

specific note about the business – “Rather than going into which counties are dry

and which are wet, just remember that the nearest place to buy beer is C&S

Carryout, aka ‘The Beer Trailer’” (Ellington, 2007, p. 21).

Figure 3 - C & S Carryout, also known as the "Beer Trailer". Photograph by Bryan Boyd, used with permission.

The early climbers who bolted sport routes in the Red River Gorge helped to

establish the area as a top-climbing destination. Around them grew a community

with a few local establishments that materialize rock climbers as a community in the

landscape of eastern Kentucky. While Miguel’s Pizza is its Mecca and C&S Carryout

provide some additional recreational beverages facilitating a highly social

atmosphere, Redriverclimbing.com and the Climber’s Coalition can also be added to

this list as institutional components of this community.

28

Redriverclimbing.com

Most regional climbing destinations have web pages maintained by a member

of the local community; the source for climbing information about The Red is

Redriverclimbing.com. The site has over 5000 registered users. As a registered user

one can create a member profile to participate in forum discussions, as well as

record routes climbed, those in project stage19, and track personal statistics. This

feature is called “Spray”, a slang term in climbing culture meaning to brag about

one’s accomplishments.

The website’s forum contains three general categories, with further sub-

categories – Web Stuff (Opinions, Suggestions, Problems), Red River Gorge

(Announcements, Trad, Sport, Lost in the Woods, Classifieds, Climbing Community,

Hooking Up, and Front Page), and General Climbing (More Climbing,

Training/Nutrition/Injuries).

In addition, the website offers an online guidebook with information regarding

all routes in The Red, including each route’s grade and style of climb, general

description, steepness, quality rating, land access, dryness scale in rain, as well as

other pertinent information, such as route closings.

Land Access

The Red River Gorge Climber’s Coalition (RRGCC), started by local climbers

in 1997, is a nonprofit corporation with goals oriented to protect, promote, and

ensure responsible climbing in this area (rrgcc.com, 2010). Their mission statement

is as follows:

19 Climbers refer to routes that they are working, that is making repeated efforts to ascend, as projects.

29

We have built a community-based organization to provide the public service of securing and preserving these unique climbing opportunities by becoming citizen trustees of climbing through direct ownership and climber participation. (Ellington, 2007, p. 31; rrgcc.com)

They, therefore, encourage climbers to, “learn to follow the rules […] park and camp

in designated areas […] respect private property [because] climbing on private land

is a privilege and every climber is a ‘climbing ambassador’ […] use existing trails […]

dispose of all waste properly […] practice ‘leave no trace’ […] get involved –

volunteer and join the RRGCC” (Ellington, 2007, p. 31; rrgcc.com, 2010). Pegg

(2007) summarizes that the continual increase in visiting climbers means the burden

of responsibility to the land is more and more a community mission.

Land ownership is a unique aspect of climbing in The Red. Much land with

cliff access is either owned or leased by oil companies. In the late-1990s relations

were turning sour between oil workers and climbers in the Southern Region as they

continually found climbers’ vehicles blocking their access (Ellington, 2007). Some

climbing areas were secured for use when the RRGCC purchased 700 acres

creating the Pendergrass-Murray Recreational Preserve (PMRP). According to Pegg

(2007), almost all newly developed routes are located in two privately owned regions

– the PMRP and Muir Valley. More recently, two popular areas - Torrent Falls and

Roadside Crag - were also purchased by climbers. “Both individually and as an

organization, climbers are buying land in the Red River Gorge and employing a

powerful new tactic in the struggle for access” (Pegg, 2007, p. 13). In other words,

the RRGCC motto is, “If we own it, they can’t close it” (Pegg, 2007, p. 13). The

RRGCC also hosts trail days throughout the year in which volunteers repair existing

trails, close those most damaged by erosion, or establish proper trails in newly

developed areas. The Access Fund, a national rock climbing advocacy group, also

teams up with the Coalition in this capacity, as well as with fundraising efforts.

30

Rockclimbing.com

There are a number of elements that ground the climbing community in

eastern Kentucky, but this is also a community that extends across the world by

common bond. “The Forum” is one way for climbers from all locations to maintain

ties. In actuality, The Forum is just one function of Rockclimbing.com. The website

provides information for more than 100,000 climbing routes around the world,

articles and media sources pertaining to the sport, gear reviews and ratings, climbing

videos, a partner board, and over 30 different forums regarding topics from regional

U.S. climbing areas and techniques to memorials and gender dynamics. While one

must become a member to participate in forum discussions, they are open to public

reading. Therefore, the 100,000+ registered users of the website do not fully express

the expanse of this climbing resource.

Members can create a profile that contains personal information, including

climbing information such as style, skill level, favorite destinations and travel

experience, and routes climbed. In this sense, their Forum identity is formed around

the sport. In an age of increasing globalization, accompanied by the growing

popularity of social media and networks, communities are being established that

span vast distances (Hall, 1995; Massey, 2005). In fact, Hall (1995) questions the

very nature of place in community formation. The communicative functions of

websites like Rockclimbing.com support such claims. While climbers do meet and

perform group identities on the ground, in specific places, The Forum facilitates

community development and maintenance. Many climbers keep in touch and even

plan trips via The Forum, while others have developed friendships that have never

extended beyond cyberspace.

31

For many lifestyle climbers, being on the road used to mean isolation from the

larger community. However, access to the Internet is quite easy today. This is

important for lifestyle climbers with a small budget who still desire social networking,

as well as for those who maintain internet-based employment. And for some a

minimalist lifestyle includes a laptop, through which they sustain social connections

with family and friends. These are among the changes to the lifestyle climber

community in the last decade. Increased technology use is an issue of contestation,

as some see this as a social reliance and less of a dedication to the sport and

lifestyle. For example, Miguel Ventura added wireless Internet service in 2007 to his

pizzeria. He notes, however, “we’ve heard some people complaining that they liked

the old times. People interacted more – now they’re all stuck on their computers. It’s

not like the old days. Everybody sat around and chatted and it’d be more personal”

(Willey, 2008, p. 173).

Academic analysis of the sport

The sport of rock climbing has been examined from a number of theoretical

perspectives. As an alternative sport it is also referred to as a “lifestyle” sport by

many participants (Wheaton, 2004) and an “extreme” sport in popular media

discourses (Wheaton, 2007). With the greater potential for risk associated with this

sport (Robinson, 2008), risk assessment and risk management of the sport (Lyng,

1990; Palmer, 2002; Fave; Bassi, & Massimini, 2003; Llewellyn & Sanchez, 2008)

and climber perceptions of risk (Heywood, 1994; 2006; Palmer, 2002; Varley, 2006)

have been popular concerns in the realm of sport psychology. However, very

different theories have derived from these studies. Some argue that extreme sports

participants are driven by notions of adventure characterized by risk (Weber, 2001;

32

Llewellyn & Sanchez, 2008). Risk is inherent to “adventure” sports, but those who

are dedicated to these “lifestyle” sports emphasize their internal motivations

(Heywood, 1994; 2006; Kiewa, 2002; Varley, 2006; Taylor, 2007; Taylor, 2010).

Moreover, many describe their experiences of climbing as euphoric and addictive,

what Csikszentmihalyi (1977) theorizes as “flow”. Climbers in his study described

experiences of “timelessness”, “integration of mind and body”, and “oneness with

nature” (1977, p. 94).

Palmer (2002) argues that the commodification of adventure sports,

particularly by tourist-oriented commercial operators, minimizes perceived risk with

slogans like “high thrill, low risk” and “our veteran guides will ensure your safety, as

you have the time of your life”. This results in a greater number of novices engaging

in such sports, so that when accidents do occur, they are highly televised and can

further perpetuate public opinions of higher risk associated with such sports (Palmer,

2002). While “lifestyle” sport participants are quick to respond that the rate of injury

in rock climbing, for example, is much higher for novices than experts, this is rarely

perceived in public opinion (Addiss, 1989).

Other scholars of society and sport have examined rock climbing in relation to

the rationalization of leisure time in the modern and postmodern eras. Risky

activities, what Lyng (1990) terms “edgework” restore a sense of spontaneity, and

successful decision making under such stressful circumstances creates a sense of

personal control. Kiewa (2002) argues climbing is a “relative freedom”, an escape

from everyday life and a way to connect to one’s true self (see also Varley, 2006).

More specifically, Lewis (2000, p. 58) interrogates the “climbing body” as the

outcome of embodied agency, sensory awareness, and thus “the phenomenalities of

nature and modernity”. These studies suggest parallels with the concept of

33

existential authenticity in tourism studies (see Wang, 1999; Steiner & Reisinger,

2006; Kim & Jamal, 2007; Buchmann et al., 2010; Cook, 2010). Yet, as Heywood

(1994, p. 184) observes, “the efforts of sports like climbing to evade societal

rationalization invariably become deeply paradoxical under contemporary conditions.

Climbing, like other escape attempts, shows every indication of coming under

rationalizing pressure”. These rationalizing pressures include external sources, such

as commercial and political interests, as well as sources internal to the community,

such as guidebooks, gear, and training. This, argues Heywood, raises questions as

to the authenticity of the climbing experience, which so many claim to be a pure,

non-conformist endeavor that demands “not just physical performance, not just

technical qualities, but moral qualities, qualities of character as well” (1994, p. 185,

emphasis in original; see also Lewis, 2004).

Others have explored the social dynamics within rock climbing communities.

Williams and Donnelly (1985) explore the social production of the sport from its pre-

1865 roots to its 20th century fractures regarding ethics, jeopardy, and individualism.

More specifically, Kiewa (2002) examines the varying perceptions of the sport by

“traditional” and “sport” climbers, noting that traditional style climbers preserve a

greater sense of adventure and are more protective of the sport with stricter ethics

and codes of conduct (see also Heywood, 1994). Yet, while individual climbers can

define their perceptions of the boundaries between these different styles,

observations of the community show that they are less clear-cut, and moreover,

quite invisible to outsiders (2002; see also Taylor, 2010). This suggests that climbers

rely on both structural and symbolic boundaries to distinguish within and outside of

this community (Cohen, 1985; Kiewa, 2002). Likewise, Cailly (2006) identifies a

series of structural and symbolic boundaries used to delineate community territory,

34

these territorialization practices– ritualization of the site as communal and sacred, a

shared value system based on bodily emotions and competition, and a common

view of the climbing site as counterpoint to everyday life. In addition, intra-community

dynamics based on style, skill-level, and friendship determine smaller “tribes” within

the territory (Cailly, 2006). Mellor (2001) describes this territorialization on the

national scale of the U.S. He notes the inconsistent, and even disjointed, practices

and ethics of climbing from “The Gunks” (Shawangunk Mountains) in New York to

Yosemite Valley. In so doing, Mellor (2001, p. 13) contextualizes these differences in

deeper, regional identities of place – “Just as the physical qualities of a region are

unique, so is its culture [...] climbers learned locally and developed their methods in

response to demands of specific rock types”.

Gender and racial dynamics within climbing communities have also been

explored. Dilley and Scraton (2010) identify a number of common perceptions and

obstacles in the lives of female climbers. For example, perceptions of one’s body are

central concerns, however, it is what their bodies could do, in terms of physical

strength, not how it looks that took precedence. More specifically, Chisholm (2008)

uses a phenomenological approach to investigate professional climber Lynn Hill. By

emphasizing “the category of the lived body over the category of gender”, the author

reveals how women engage the body, movement and spatiality to overcome crux

situations of climbing and the gendered stereotypes associated with them (2008, p.

9). Frohlick (2005) examines gendered perceptions of adventure sport films, and

finds that rather than viewing the masculinity of the films as an “alleged neutral”,

these female athletes are uncomfortable in the white, hypermasculine narratives.

More broadly, Robinson (2008) argues that the production of masculinity through

rock climbing is characterized by training and diet regimes, increased

35

commercialization, and finds that a growing number of female participants challenge

this. In a similar vein, Erikson (2005) argues that the performance of climbing is also

a performance of identity and othering, in particular of whiteness, in terms of who

has the authority to explore and create knowledge by Orientalizing nature.

Geographic perspectives have also been employed to study climber-

landscape interactions. Taylor’s (2006; 2010) history of the sport reveals changing

landscape perceptions and interactions. From the Romantic period when shifts in the

concept of the sublime aroused an appreciation of vast, chaotic, wild landscape

features to the Beats of the 1950s who were driven as much by a reaction against

societal norms as existential pursuits and to the professional athletes of today, some

of whom are as dedicated to the sport as to the pursuit of fame (Nettlefold &

Stratford, 1999; Taylor, 2006; 2010). Taylor argues, guidebooks “illustrate complex

relationships between cultural norms, spatial practices, and social power in a

modernizing sport” (2007, p. 193; see also Hamilton, 1979). Moreover, guidebook

authors have the editorial power of omission and inclusion of routes and route

information, particularly their history. By choosing which routes to include, authors

declare an area’s history and difficulty level suggesting who is strong enough to

climb. They also reveal the sexual objectification of nature by the male dominated

sport with their histories of the discovery of “virgin” lines, rock face contours

described as “jugs” and “nipples”, and route names like The Shaft, The Cuntress,

and Gang Bang (see Robinson, 2008; Taylor, 2010). But route names also illuminate

societal and pop culture changes. In the 1960s and 1970s routes such as Lay Lady

Lay, Reefer Madness, Mainliner, and Bad Acid appeared on the landscape and in

guidebooks. Nettlefold and Stratford (1999) argue, therefore, that climbing

landscapes can be read as texts and guidebooks record this conversion of “space to

36

place”. These authors hint at the performative implications of climber-landscape

interactions suggesting a need for an examination of climbing from a perspective

informed by non-representational theory (NRT). In this vein, a more recent study by

Ness (2011, p. 71) employs a post-phenomenological approach to bouldering in

Yosemite, arguing “climbers’ unmediated bodily encounters bring into being

generative lines of symbolism capable of reconfiguring previously established

translocal structures of representation”.

While Rossiter (2007, p. 293) acknowledges rock climbing as a human and

cultural practice that transforms natural spaces through performance and

consumption, she argues that to stop analysis with these findings is rather reductive

– “nature simply becomes culture”. Actor Network Theory (ANT) suggests that along

with the climbers, the rock and gear also have agency (Latour, 2004, p. 226 in

Rossiter, 2007). Therefore, rock climbing is an example of a network of actors; not

only do climbers modify the rock face and its ecosystem, the rock shapes the body,

and the gear “modifies a state of affairs by making a difference […] to glance at your

protection, to find its placement secure and unlikely to fail will usually make the

climber feel more secure.” (2007, p. 301). ANT is informed by a number of theorists,

including phenomenologists, suggesting an examination of rock climbing from a

post-phenomenological perspective, such as NRT would be worthwhile.

37

CHAPTER THREE: LITERATURE REVIEW

The background literature for this project incorporates four areas of study – tourism

typologies, existential authenticity, performance theory, and mobility studies. Much

debate has taken place as to the similarities, differences and relations of pilgrimage

and tourism. Lifestyle climbers suggest elements of both endeavors in their pursuit of

rock climbing. Moreover, within tourism studies efforts have also been made to

determine the relations among tourists, drifters and backpackers. The hypermobility

of these climbers suggests similarities with each of these as well. Therefore, the

literature regarding tourism in relation to pilgrimage, drifting, and backpacking is

reviewed. This is followed by a summary of existential authenticity, an area of

tourism studies frequently used as an explanatory framework for tourist motivations,

expectations, and experiences. Because rock climbers in general, and lifestyle

climbers specifically, hint at elements of adventure, flow, existentialism, identity-

processes, and communitas this literature is also presented. Next, performance

38

theory, as it relates to cultural geography and tourism studies is reviewed. This body

of literature moves beyond representations of spaces and practices to the

significance of their performance. Rock climbing as a physically active sport, and

lifestyle climbers’ emphasis on constant travel, suggests meaning-making extends

beyond representations to embodied experiences and enacted spaces. Finally, a

portion of the mobility studies literature focused on lifestyle mobilities is presented.

Lifestyle climbers are a type of lifestyle mobility in which tourists transition from travel

for leisure to travel as a way of life. This area of study focuses on movement as a

practice, a process through which places are enacted. Therefore, rather than

traditional studies of place as static, mobility studies emphasizes the significance of

the connections in an increasingly mobile and globalized world.

Pilgrims, tourists, drifters, and backpackers

While there are numerous perspectives on what constitutes tourism, some

basic parameters used in its definition are temporary mobility with the duration away

from home lasting less than one year but more than one day (see Hall, Williams, &

Lew, 2004; Smith, 2004; Olsen & Timothy, 2006). This is, needless to say, a broad

and vastly encompassing definition. The integration of motivational push and pull

factors into this basic definition is contested. One thing that is agreed upon is that

the “tourist” is a relatively new form of travel arising out of the modern era; its

antecedents, however, are also highly debated. The two primary suspects are

pilgrimage and the Grand Tour of Europe, as both display clear touristic behavior

among participants.

Turner (1969; 1973; Turner & Turner, 1978) was among the first to theorize a

general structure of pilgrimage in terms of ritual processes, rites of passage,

39

liminality, and pilgrimage centers. While, according to Eliade (1957), the pilgrimage

site is the center of the world and the believer lives in its periphery, Turner pushed

this center to the periphery of one’s daily life, making it remote. This separates the

sacred cultural-religious center from the mundane sociopolitical center, it removes it

from the territory of any particular society, and it enables the pilgrim to undergo a

spiritual transformation with the ascension from profane daily life to remote sacred

center (Cohen, 1992b, p.34). Thus, such a consideration is useful for understanding

secular and civil pilgrimages, as well as their touristic components.

The touristic component of such pilgrimages will increase in significance, the farther away their centers are from the individual’s abode […] can then be categorized as a pilgrim-tourist […]. When the individual’s destination, however, is not a pilgrimage center […][but] belongs to the realm of another religion, culture, or society, the individual […] can be classified as a traveler-tourist. (Cohen, 1992b, p. 49)

Cohen (1992a) claims that there are distinct structures of tourism and pilgrimage -

the pilgrim’s is a journey to a sacred center and the tourist travels from a center to

the periphery. Accordingly, Smith (1992) places tourism and pilgrimage on opposite

ends of the same spectrum, with pilgrimage representing the, “sacred” extreme and

tourism the “secular”, with the area in between making up numerous combinations,

such as religious tourism (see also Graburn, 1983; Collins-Kreiner & Kloit, 2000).

However, even the earliest pilgrims exhibited touristic behavior, eventually resulting

in the mid-nineteenth century term “modern tourist pilgrim”. This is a near equal

blending of these two endeavors (Bar & Cohen-Hattab, 2003), exhibiting Turner and

Turner’s well-known phrase, “a tourist is half a pilgrim, if a pilgrim is half a tourist”

(1978, p. 20; see also Cohen, 1992b).

Theilmann (1987) contends that tourism’s earliest roots are in the medieval

period of Europe, a time when pilgrimage was among the few worthy circumstances

of travel. Yet, motivations for such pilgrimages were diverse, and the “intermingling

40

of secular and religious motives” could easily be observed (Kaelber, 2006, p. 50). Of

course the honoring of saints was important, but many undertook the journeys for

more personal reasons, such as cures for ailments and penance. Moreover, royal

pilgrimage itineraries included hunting expeditions and political campaigning

(Kaelber, 2006). Additionally, one can see evidence of the commodification of the

journey. In the earlier medieval period (5th-11th centuries) pilgrims would take tokens

from their destinations, such as a rock or piece of stone (Theilmann, 1987). The later

pilgrims (12-15th centuries) encountered local craftspeople and merchants along

travel routes, including hostels and hospitality services (Swatos & Tomasi, 2002;

Kaelber, 2006). This rise in the commodification of medieval pilgrimages was even

happening at the sites themselves, as clergy would fabricate tales of miracles and

steal relics in order to attract more pilgrims (Theilmann, 1987).

Despite the bias to focus on the development of contemporary tourism as a

Western phenomenon, Noritake (1992) notes that in the 17th century Japanese

pilgrimage to shrines began to include the collection of tokens, as well as hired

guides and accommodations, and many traveled in groups. In fact, the characters for

“token of a shrine” changed over time to mean “local product” indicating similar

processes of commodification, secularization, and leisure-oriented travel as were

occurring in Europe at that time.

Regardless of these commonalities, some argue that the differences between

pilgrimage and tourism lie in the motivations for travel (Margry, 2008). Yet, within

pilgrimage there are numerous variations of religious, spiritual, and devotional

motivation. In particular, Protestant and Catholic pilgrims diverge considerably in

their “religious” and “secular” interests (see Collins-Kreiner & Kliot, 2000; Tweed,

2000; Bar & Cohen-Hattab, 2003; Fleischer, 2000; Collins-Kreiner, 2010). For

41

example, Tweed (2000) contends that Methodists do make “pilgrimage” to “shrines”,

despite their avoidance of these specific terms. Likewise, Kugelmass (2009) asserts

that diaspora Jews traveling to Eastern Europe are “secular pilgrims” because of the

serious manner in which they travel, despite their lack of direct religious pursuit.

Olsen and Timothy (2006) note that religion and pilgrimage are becoming less fixed

with a rise in “spiritual” experiences. “In fact, atheists and agnostics may also have

deep spiritual experiences in relation to nature and their own self-consciousness

without believing in god or any organized religious affiliation” (Olsen & Timothy,

2006, p. 4). Likewise for many tourists, visiting sites of national significance, such as

battlefields (Linenthal, 1993), tragedy (Linenthal, 2001), monuments and memorials

(Dubisch, 2004), is also pilgrimage. What’s more, many who travel to Graceland

identify themselves as pilgrims to this musically holy site (Margry, 2008) and many

rock climbers describe themselves as pilgrims of the vertical (Taylor, 2010). This

diversity of spiritual experience is leading to further reinterpretations of what

constitutes sacred space, suggesting that while pilgrimage may be tied up in the

motivational aspect of the journey, the sacredness of the pilgrimage center is a result

of its continual performance by travelers (see Smith, 1987; Chidester & Linenthal,

1995; Timothy & Olsen, 2006).

Cohen (1992a) observes two main lines of theoretical investigation in relation

to pilgrimage and tourism – divergence and convergence. Divergence was the

earlier position, held by those who conceived of tourism as a modern, mass-leisure

phenomenon devoid of deeper spiritual meaning or cultural significance (see

Boorstin, 1961). Convergence theories, argues Cohen (1992b), arose as criticisms

of these “elitist” perspectives, asserting that tourism does indeed have profound

cultural meaning, equivalent to pilgrimage of traditional society (MacCannell, 1976;

42

Graburn, 1983; 2001). Consequently, Cohen (1992a) suggests that analysis must be

more systematic, as he finds that structural, phenomenological, and institutional

analyses point to both convergence and divergence (see also Collins-Kreiner, 2010).

Likewise, Adler (1989) remains skeptical of the ability to distinguish tourism and

pilgrimage in a unilinear sequence. “The history of travel […] is best seen as a

history of coexisting and competitive, as well as blossoming, declining, and

recurring, styles whose temporal boundaries inevitably blur” (Adler, 1989, p. 1372).

In considering the development of contemporary tourism, Towner (1985)

identifies another important element – The Grand Tour. While the earlier tour, he

argues, consisted primarily of aristocratic, male youth who toured across Western

Europe to learn of culture, history, politics, art, languages, and other aspects of the

life of the ruling elite, the later tours, evolved into a social, group event with an

overall older demographic, consisting of fewer nobility. It is from the late period of the

Grand Tour, 18th-19th centuries, that the “traveler” as a type began to be defined –

Western, male, white, literate, of independent means, an introspective observer, a

humanist (Shaffer, 2004, p. 140), and the sites along the routes became romantic in

nature. These tours eventually grew to include travel companies to escort luggage

and arrange accommodations. It is argued that Thomas Cook’s Grand Tours

developed out of these later advances; leading to world wide travel excursions, of

which the Thomas Cook Company was one of the first “travel agencies” (Chambers,

2000). However, the rise of tourism agencies in the 19th century further blurred the

distinctions between tourism and pilgrimage. Not only could more pilgrims afford the

trip, as travel became less expensive and more efficient, they came to rely on

tourism infrastructure for parts of their journey, and visited a variety of destinations

while traveling. This resulted in further integration of tourism and pilgrimage into local

43

and regional economies (Fleischer, 2000; Bar & Cohen-Hattab, 2003; Olsen &

Timothy, 2006; Collins-Kreiner, 2010).

Occurring throughout the later medieval pilgrimages and the Grand Tour

period was the institutionalization of travel systems associated with occupational

groups. Tramping, travel in regard to trade societies, began as a response to

unemployment (Adler, 1985). Over time, it came to be a rite of passage, as

“journeymen […] required travel for several years before being certified as masters

in their craft” (Adler, 1985, p. 339). With its decline at the turn of the 20th century,

however, the remaining tramps came to be perceived as socially marginal vagrants.

“The more tramping lost its formal organization to become an informally-structured

road culture of unskilled laborers, the more insistently observers warned that youth

must be protected from addiction to such travel” (Alder, 1985, p. 342). Nevertheless,

the touristic components of tramping kept it alive and well in the minds of youth as a

Romantic endeavor; it came to serve as a way to play with separation and social

distance, a way to see the world, working only as needed, gaining life experience

and finding a sense of self along the way (Adler, 1985).

Adler’s (1985) work suggests commonalities between the later forms of the

tramp and the drifter. In fact, Cohen (1973) offers four distinct antecedents to the

drifter – tramp, gentleman-explorer, collective youth-movement, and working

tourism. Cohen notes, the drifter “comes ordinarily from a middle or higher class

home and is a tramp by choice […] has no instrumental purpose in mind […] is an

individualist, disdainful of ideologies […] is at best un-patriotic […] [their] escapism is

hedonistic and often anarchistic […] tends to work [beg or scavenge] only when

pressed by dire need” (1973, p. 91-92). Drifting began in Western Europe following

World War II, but cheap transportation quickly expanded this practice around the

44

world (Cohen, 1973; 1979; Riley, 1988). Cohen (1973, 1979) argues that the

continued popularity of drifting is a result of the postmodern era in which youth seek

out their sense of personal identities through experiential, economic, and political

motivational means. More recently the number of working class youths and female

participants have increased. These changes have led Cohen (1973) to theorize a

four-fold typology of drifters – full-time drifters (outward-oriented adventurer and

inward-oriented hippie) and part-time drifters (outward-oriented mass-drifter and

inward-oriented fellow-traveler). In particular, it has been argued that backpacking, a

pervasive form of tourism, derived from the mass-drifter (Cohen, 1973).

An intermediary between drifter and backpacker is the ‘long-term international

budget traveler” (Riley, 1988). These “non-institutionalized” travelers value “novelty,

spontaneity, risk, independence, and a multitude of options” (Vogt, 1976, p. 27); their

motivations are “equal parts escape and pursuit” (Theroux, 1975). Riley (1988)

argues that there is a series of push (escape, monotony, life juncture) and pull

(adventure, freedom, curiosity) factors associated with this mode of travel. The

budgetary aspect, however, is essential, as most spend several years traveling.

They are often regarded with a mixture of admiration and skepticism (Riley, 1988),

suggesting that they are perceived to be in between the drifter and backpacker.

Moreover, Riley (1988, p. 318) identifies distinct attributes of the budget traveler –

they have flexible itineraries but do not drift aimlessly, do not beg, are not hedonistic

or anarchistic, are not associated with counter-culture movements, the use of drugs

is light and not a central component of experience, they maintain close ties with

family and friends, travel alone or in pairs, and the majority are single and in their

late 20s to mid-30s, college educated. An existential component is found to budget

traveling, as many cite self-understanding as a reason for the journey and prefer

45

personal authenticity to cultural authenticity (Obenour, 2004). Like backpackers and

mass drifters, “communication networks are a salient feature of budget travel” (Riley,

1988, p. 322).

Backpacking is now the most institutionalized version of these types of travel,

with a number of guidebooks available. O’Reilly (2006, p. 999) suggests, that while

“the backpacker is now an easily recognizable stereotype […] it is as much about

self-definition as it is about conformity to a set description”. The performance of

backpacking, argues Shaffer (2004), requires a series of scripts, props and

costumes – journal, postcards, camera, casual dress, and most importantly, the

backpack. O’Reilly puts forth three broad characteristics of a backpacker – length of

time on the road (counted in months rather than weeks), mode of travel (transport

and subsistence on very low budget) and low levels of planning with no fixed

timetable and an openness to change and serendipity (2006, p. 999). Among the

unique aspects of backpacker experience are the extensive patterns of sociality

(Riley, 1988). Moreover, backpacking can act as a rite of passage for many youths

(Noy, 2004a; 2004b; Shaffer, 2004), usually occurring during a “gap year” (O’Reilly,

2006). Hence, the “self-change” narratives that result from these liminal (liminoid),

rite of passage experiences become essential in performances of identity (Noy,

2004a; 2004b; Shaffer, 2004; O’Reilly, 2006).

Particularly interesting, however, are Shaffer’s conclusions as to the “ideal”

backpacker:

The ideal backpacker travels solo but always meets interesting people. She finds ways to communicate with the locals […] visits both iconic sites and travels off the beaten path. She makes new discoveries, eats native food, and sleeps in either hostels or local bed and breakfasts. The ideal backpacker finds herself. (2004, p. 154)

46

Yet, after drawing these conclusions during her fieldwork, the author goes on to

observe, “the real backpacker I became and the other backpackers I met broke

many of these rules”. They relied on safety in numbers, skipped important sites,

opted for camaraderie, spoke only English, sought cultural refuge in movie theatres

and American restaurants and hotels, and rested on bus tours. “The real backpacker

buckled under the pressure of her backpack and ignored the script every once in a

while. […] once I engaged Europe as an improvisation performance and dismissed

my rigid definitions of what backpacking was all about, I began to experience a

sense of myself as an authentic backpacker” (2004, p. 154). Shaffer illustrates a

struggle that has surfaced for tourists of all types – a search for authentic

experiences with the always present knowledge that one is, indeed, a tourist. While

some fight the age of the ‘post-tourist’, others find more joy and freedom in its

acknowledgement.

O’Reilly (2006) further argues that at the heart of this existential dilemma is

globalization. “Backpacking has been made possible by economic and political

developments brought about by globalization, and in turn it is contributing to the

cultural changes that are said to characterize the postmodern era” (O’Reilly, 2006, p.

1000). Ease of transportation and more control of career choice have increased

travel in general. These comforts have made backpacking, in particular, relatively

easier than in the past, reducing its social stigma and, in fact, increasing its use as

social and cultural capital; thus attracting “people who in the past would not have

considered such as undertaking” (O’Reilly, 2006, p. 1006). In addition, improved

communications technology means that friends and family are always within reach,

easing the burden of social isolation.

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Existential authenticity

Authenticity is among the more contested concepts in tourism studies (see

Cohen, 1988; Hughes, 1995; Wang, 1999; Reisinger & Steiner, 2006; Belhassen &

Caton, 2006). Not only are there different theoretical approaches to the concept

(objective, constructive, postmodern, and existential) these can change depending

on the focus of analysis – an object, a site, or an experience. More often than not,

researchers use more than one theoretical approach to examine a multiplicity of

factors that contribute to tourism experiences. Based on a survey of the tourism

literature on authenticity, Wang (1999) proposes existential authenticity as an

alternative framework for understanding tourism experiences and motivations (see

also Pearce & Moscardo, 1986; Reisinger & Steiner, 2006). Object-related

approaches, he argues, “can only explain a limited range of tourist experiences”

(Wang, 1999, p. 350). Existential authenticity, as an activity-based approach, refers

specifically to feelings, emotions, sensations, and relationships. It has, therefore,

been applied widely since its introduction to the field (see Steiner & Reisinger, 2006;

Kim & Jamal, 2007; Belhassen et al., 2008; Buchmann et al., 2010; Cook, 2010).

Wang (1999) suggests existential authenticity stems from postmodern

approaches in tourism studies. Postmodernists, although not unified in approach, do

not consider inauthenticity a problem and, therefore, engage concepts such as

“hyperreality” (Eco, 1986) and “simulacra” (Baudrillard, 1988). Cohen (1995)

suggests that in the “search for enjoyment”, tourists accept “staged authenticity” as a

protective substitute for the “original”. Moreover, they welcome modern

conveniences, albeit violations of historical or cultural accuracy. According to

postmodernist perspectives, “authenticity is irrelevant to many tourists, who either do

not value it, are suspicious of it, [or] are complicit in its cynical construction for

48

commercial purposes” (Reisinger and Steiner, 2006, p. 66). Bolz, however, asserts

that the inauthenticity of the hyperreal and the simulacra are not so much deceptive,

but seductive (1998, p. 1, see also Eco, 1986; Brown, 1996; Ritzer & Liska, 1997).

Thus, Wang states, “a postmodernist deconstruction of the authenticity of the original

implicitly paves the way to define existential authenticity as an alternative experience

in tourism” (1999, p. 358).

In tourism studies, most scholars using an existential approach to authenticity

abide by Heidegger’s perspective on Being. Pearce and Moscardo (1986) were

among the first tourism scholars to suggest an alternative Heideggerian perspective

to authenticity. In particular, they assert that authenticity can come from experiences

with people and places, in accordance with Heidegger’s concepts of self-

actualization and Dasein. “According to Heidegger (1962), to ask about the meaning

of Being is to look for the meaning of authenticity” (Wang, 1999, p. 358).

Authenticity, therefore, is argued to reside in the subject, or in terms of Heidegger’s

Dasein – an entity which genuinely exemplifies its being. Steiner and Reisinger

(2006, p. 302) also advocate this perspective to tourism experience, as “another

human activity that creates, in its own way, opportunities to explore and experience

what it means to be human”. Yet existential authenticity is not something that is

realized or enduring, but is momentary. Therefore, the authors argue, we must

consider Heidegger’s (1996) three characteristics of authenticity – mineness,

resoluteness, and situation. This means, according to Heidegger, existential

authenticity comes in the rare experiences (situations) in which one recognizes one’s

possibilities of self (mineness) and acts with tenacity to claim this potential

(resoluteness), rather than embrace one’s “thy-self”. According to Wang, an

“’authentic self’ involves a balance between two parts of one’s Being: reason and

49

emotion, self-constraint and spontaneity; Logos and Eros […] inauthentic self arises

when the balance between these two parts of being is broken down in such a way

that rational factors over-control non-rational factors” (1999, p. 360-361). A search

for existentially authentic experiences, therefore, results in a preoccupation with the

feelings, emotions, sensations, relationships, and self as components of a state of

Being, and thus, object-related forms of the concept may have no bearing on the

authenticity experience (Wang, 1999).

Wang (1999) puts forth two dimensions of existential authenticity for tourism

studies – intra-personal and inter-personal. “Bodily feelings” are an important

component of the intra-personal dimension of existential authenticity. While the

Cartesian-Kantian tradition prefaces the mind at the expense of the body, bodily

concern is central to tourism. Recreation, relaxation, adventure, rejuvenation,

pleasure are all common motivations for tourism which are centered on bodily

feelings. “Self-making” is the other component of intra-personal authenticity.

Modernity has rationalized almost all activities and use of time. Because daily

routines can become monotonous and societal institutions can impose constraints to

self-realization, feelings of alienation (MacCannell, 1999) and loss (Giddens, 1990)

can result. The break from these norms, through tourism, can provide a structure in

which individuals can act spontaneously, in-line with their true feelings and authentic

self.

Inter-personal authenticity is the second dimension of existential authenticity,

also composed of two parts – family ties and communitas. Tourists in search of

authentic experiences are not just seeking an authentic Other, or a “true” self, but

they are also in search of authenticity of, and between, themselves (Wang, 1999, p.

364). As Haldrup and Larsen (2003) observe, family tourism is a “ritual of the

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domestic cult”, it both celebrates and reaffirms the family relationship. Collective

experience in tourism, as with pilgrimage, can also take the form of communitas –

spontaneous, temporary, informal communities. Communitas arise out the liminal

state of tourism, as they form away from institutionalized socio-economic and socio-

political roles (Wang, 1999). Thus, the existentially authentic tourism experience is

not a result of seeing sights of socially constructed importance (MacCannell, 1999),

but is about collectively experiencing the emotion, pleasure, and adventure of the

journey (see for example Crang, 1996; Buchmann et al., 2010).

While the dimensional components of existential authenticity can be

separately examined, several authors are working to maintain their connections (see

Obenour, 2004; Kim & Jamal, 2007; Belhassen et al., 2008). Noy (2004a, p. 91)

argues that a, “cyclical relationship may be conceptualized between the experience

of (constructed) authenticity, the authenticity of the tourist’s experience (existential

authenticity), and the authentication of the self-change narrative” resulting from the

journey. Yet, what has been obscured in this increasingly subjective investigation of

authenticity, argue Belhassen et al. (2008), is “the influence of real physical places,

with shared, collectively authored meanings” which contextualize the “broader nexus

of socio-spatial relations surrounding the journey” (p. 668-669). In essence, place

matters. The landscapes and physical features of tourism places contribute not only

to the bodily feelings of existential authenticity but also the socially constructed

importance of destinations. “[T]he Heideggerian approach to existential authenticity,

in which authenticity is viewed as a sense that emerges from the subject’s actions

rather than from the properties of the toured object, cannot adequately account for

[…] [all] experiences” (Belhassen et al., 2008, p. 682). Moreover, the focus on a

Heideggerian perspective on existential authenticity suggests other existentialists,

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such as Nietzsche, Sartre, Merleau-Ponty, and Camus, who have been

underexplored, may also contribute to building a more robust concept for tourism

studies.

Performance theory

Foucault (1994) suggests three distinct epistemes in his genealogy of

knowledge – the Renaissance based on resemblance, the classic period based on

representation, and the modern period based on structuralism. Yudice (2003)

suggests a fourth episteme to characterize the global era – performativity.

“Performativity is based on the assumption that the maintenance of the status quo

[…] is achieved by repeatedly performing norms. Every day we rehearse the rituals

of conformity” (Yudice, 2003; cited in Oakes & Price, 2008, p. 423). Performance

theory has been used in a number of ways across several disciplines. Leavy asserts,

“Performances call forth multiplicity and are open to multiple meanings, which are

derived from the experience of consumption, which may involve a host of emotional

and psychological responses” (2008, p. 344, emphasis original). Rather than

attempting to stitch together the vast complexity and various applications of

performance theory, this project is concerned with the performative turns in

geography and tourism studies.

Human geography has recently taken a ‘performative turn’ with greater focus

on the performance of space, the body and embodied experiences (Thrift, 1996;

1999; 2000; Winchester, 2005; Wylie, 2007). Much of this analytical perspective in

human geography has come under the term “non-representational theory” (NRT),

coined by Nigel Thrift (1996; 1999). Under this approach, Thrift (1996; 1999; 2000)

has brought together a number of philosophical perspectives in order to encourage

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social scientists, and geographers in particular, to re-evaluate their emphasis on

representation and to examine, instead, how space and time emerge through

embodied practice. Dewsbury, Harrison, Rose and Wylie (2002) point out, however,

this is not an anti-representational approach, but this is intended to push beyond

examinations of representations, to be “more-than representational” (Lorimer, 2005).

Specifically, Laurier and Philo (2006, p. 353) note this perspective is interested in

“the points at which language finds its limits, where cultural geography, having so

keenly theorized representation, comes upon matters that mark the end of

representation: things, events, encounters, emotions and more that are

unspeakable, unwriteable and, of course, unrepresentable.” Therefore, NRT has

become particularly useful for researchers of the everyday (Crouch, 2003; Laurier &

Philo, 2006) and landscape-body interactions, as well as those focused on the

visually impaired (Lorimer, 2006; Yusoff, 2007; Macpherson, 2008; 2009), haptic

experience (Lewis, 2000; Wylie, 2005; 2007), music and sound (McCormack, 2002),

and movement (McHugh, 2009).

This focus on the body illustrates the phenomenological roots of NRT.

Merleau-Ponty, attempting to overcome the mind-body dichotomy of Cartesian

thought, argued that experiences exist between the mind and body (Leavy, 2008).

“Within this framework the body is not viewed as an object, but rather as the

‘condition and context’ through which social actors have relations to objects and

through which they give and receive information” (Leavy, 2008, p. 346; Grosz, 1994).

The body is “always both subject and object […] observer and observed, seer and

seen” (Wylie, 2007, p. 151). However, NRT is actually considered post-

phenomenological because it extends beyond the body to how and why our bodies

are put into motion or emotion. The context of embodiment is an important aspect of

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this perspective. Our actions and conscious thoughts may be the result of pre-

conscious thought, or habits, based on the sensations and materiality of a given

environment (Macpherson, 2010). Our bodies, therefore, are performances that

occur in conjunction with landscapes, objects, and contexts (Macpherson, 2010). In

this sense, performance does not mean a masking, but an enacting.

Non-representational approaches understand landscape not as an “inert

background or setting for human action, nor is it understood as simply a pictorial or

discursive form” (Macpherson, 2010, p. 6), but as “perception in motion” (Wylie,

2007), a “process” (Rose, 2002), a “practice” (Cresswell, 2003; Wylie, 2007), or a

“dwelling” (Ingold, 1993; 2000; McHugh, 2009). This is not a dismissal of the

representational qualities of landscape but a reinfusion of agency. NRT, according to

Dewsbury et al. (2002, p. 438) is “characterized by a firm belief in the actuality of

representation […] not as a code to be broken or as a illusion to be dispelled rather

representations are apprehended as performative in themselves; as doings”. Wylie

(2007, p. 164) argues, “the act of representing (speaking, painting, writing) is

understood by non-representational theory to be in and of the world of embodied

practice and performance, rather than taking place outside of that world, or being

anterior to, and determinative of, that world”. Rose (2002, p. 457), thus, states an

interest in “how the landscape ‘comes to matter’ – how it comes to be relevant

through practice”.

Performance theory has come into geography as a way to give agency to

both the human and non-human elements of space, to go beyond representational

examinations of landscape interactions. And while the term performance is used, it is

not considered to be a masquing of experience, but a way to access the active, in-

the-moment experiences. Performance theories have also made theoretical

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contributions to tourism studies. Originally performance theories were used to

understand the masked and masqued interactions between hosts and guests. It has

only been more recently that tourism studies, like geography, has taken a

performative turn.

While MacCannell’s (1976; 1999) use of the metaphor of the stage helped

him explain the problems of authenticity in modern tourism, several tourism scholars

have since built upon this analogy toward an integration of tourism, performance,

and theatre studies literature (see Crang, 1997; 1999; Desmond, 1999; Edensor,

2000, 2001; Baerenholdt, Haldrup, Larsen & Urry, 2004). Edensor (2000) argues “an

extension of tourism theatrical metaphors to include notions about the direction of

performances, the stage-management of space and the choreographing of

movement also helps to reveal the spatial and social controls that are mobilized to

assist and regulate performance” (p. 326; see also Edensor, 2001). While this

understanding of tourism sites as dramaturgical landscapes is a reaction to the

tourist gaze and other approaches that privilege the eye and the viewer, the

incorporation of performance is still heavily reliant on representations and aligns

performance with masquing. A more direct turn to performance theory in tourism

studies has argued for new metaphors based more on agency – the being, doing,

touching and seeing of tourism (Cloke & Perkins, 1998; Coleman & Crang, 2002;

Baerenholdt, et al. 2004; Larsen, 2008). From this perspective it is argued that place

is not a static container, but that it is made through performance (Coleman & Crang,

2002; Baerenholdt, et al. 2004). Therefore the performance of tourism places is

accomplished by a set of discourses and texts, bodies and objects, affects and

percepts, technologies and mediums (see Coleman & Crang, 2002; Baerenholdt, et

al. 2004).

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Whereas tourism studies have tended to focus on the destination, it is the

study of pilgrimage that has shed more light on the performance of the journey.

Morinis (1992, p. ix) contends, “a true typology of pilgrimages focuses on the

pilgrims’ journey and motivations, not on the destination shrines”. Perhaps this is

because pilgrimage is commonly viewed as a whole process, a ritual, or more

specifically a “kinetic ritual” (Turner &Turner, 1978). Morinis (1992) argues, “the

essence of the journey is movement” (p. 12); and accordingly, pilgrimage, as a term,

can be applied “whenever journeying and some embodiment of an ideal intersect” (p.

3). Coleman and Eade (2004) suggest a re-framing of pilgrimage toward an

emphasis on movement – movement as performative action, embodied action,

semantic field, and metaphor. “If pilgrimage can be seen as involving the

institutionalization (or even domestication) of mobility in physical, metaphorical,

and/or ideological terms, such a focus can be located on various levels.” (Coleman &

Eade, 2004, p. 17). This emphasis on the representational aspects of pilgrimage in

terms of its performance offers a more complex understanding of the phenomenon.

Margry (2008), for example, points to the very performative nature of pilgrimage as

its primary distinguishing characteristic from tourism, yet he does not investigate this

performance. While an understanding of pilgrimage as a process, or practice, or

“anti-structure” is implicit, there remain few studies that incorporate more recent

developments in performance theory or mobility studies.

Mobility studies

Like performance-based theories, mobility studies concerns the enacting of

space and place through the connectivity of a globalizing world. Baerenholdt and

Granas (2008, p. 2) explain,

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We are thus in a state beyond the dichotomy of the good local, so-called ‘internal’, control versus the bad non-local, ‘external’ control. Connections and encounters crucial to people’s lives are often much more complex and dynamic [...]. Contexts are thus not predetermined at any scalar level, but only emerge with the practices of making and becoming places and mobilities.

This approach illustrates a change in thinking about place, from fears of

placelessness (Relph, 1976) that would come with globalization to what Massey

(1995) describes as “place as throwntogetherness”. Thus, place as material, social

and cultural is informed by practice, and mobilities “are about the mobility of people,

as well as things and information, and these various mobilities are intertwined in

different ways” (Baerenholdt & Granas, 2008, p. 6; see also Elliott & Urry, 2010). But

that is not to say that the new mobilities paradigm views “immobilities” as irrelevant.

Rather, Cresswell (2010, p. 18) argues, “’moorings are often as important as

‘mobilities’”, particularly in understanding “constellations of mobility” – the patterns,

representations, and ways of practicing movement that become entangled and

informed by particular “politics of mobility”.

While mobility studies is an overarching field, concerned with a number of

movement-based phenomena, including migration and diaspora, this work focuses

on the implications of mobility studies for tourism and travel. For example, Hannam

(2009, p. 101) argues “tourism needs to be understood as a specific process within a

wider ontological context, namely that of mobility or mobilities”. This suggests

tourism is more usefully considered in the context of other movement-based

concepts. Movement, he explains, “is made up of time and space; more clearly it is

the ‘spatialization of time and the temporalization of space” (2009, p. 102). As a

result, argues Cressell (2006, p. 3), mobility is “just as central to the human

experience of the world, as place”. Indeed, the social acceptance of mobility

illustrates the transformation of Western society, from a feudal system of low mobility

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through the rise of capitalism and the right to mobility, accompanied by the modern

figure of the tourist. Thus, the time period and style of mobility has held significant

social and political meanings throughout time, from the pilgrim to the tramp to the

tourist (Cresswell, 2010).

As tourism is being theorized less as “an ephemeral aspect of social life that is

practiced outside normal, everyday life” but instead as “integral to wider processes of

economic and political development and even constitutive of everyday life”, the

mobilities paradigm offers a pertinent framework to examine its significance

(Hannam, 2009, p. 106). While many forms of tourism are very much focused on

specific locations and being in place, the definitional boundaries of tourism can also

be problematic when addressing movement-based tourism or long-term tourism, for

example. As a result, research on lifestyle travel is informed by both the tourism and

mobilities literatures (see Cohen, 2010a; 2010b; 2011). Lifestyle travelers, as Cohen

(2010a) explains, are “individuals for whom extended leisure travel is a preferred

lifestyle that they return to repeatedly” (p. 117). These long-term travelers have also

been referred to as “lifelong wanderers” (Noy and Cohen, 2005), “contemporary

drifters” (Cohen, 2004), and “nomads from affluence” (Cohen, 1973).

Although nascent, most lifestyle travel literature is informed, in particular, by

the work on lifestyle migration. This type of migration occurs among “relatively

affluent individuals [...] whose relocation is spurred by the belief that they can find a

better way of life elsewhere” (Benson, 2011, p. 224; see also Benson & O’Reilly,

2009b). As a result, these migrants tend to move from global cores to peripheries,

relinquishing some political freedoms and material comforts “for the promise of a

more fulfilling way of life” (2011, p. 224; see also Benson & O’Reilly, 2009b).

Common to the motivations, expectations, and experiences of lifestyle travelers and

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lifestyle migrants is the way in which they live their lives, their notions of lifestyle and

self-identity (see Benson, 2011; Cohen, 2010; Benson & O’Reilly, 2009b).

Distinguishing these forms of movement, however, are their perceptions of mobility.

While lifestyle migration is made possible by individuals’ mobility, socially,

economically and globally, they value the potential of future immobility, that is,

finding a place to settle down (Benson, 2011; Benson & O’Reilly, 2009b). Lifestyle

travelers, on the other hand, regard their mobility as more essential to their identities,

as it frames their lives. Thus, Cresswell (2006) argues Deleuze and Guattari’s (1988,

p. 49) “nomadology” perhaps better explains hypermobile pursuits, such as lifestyle

travel - “While the migrant goes from place to place, moving with a resting place in

mind, the nomad uses points and locations to define paths.”

While researchers have worked to distinguish tourism as a unique

phenomenon, with its own “tourism industry” and impacts across economic, political,

social and cultural realms, examining its complexity as an endeavor undertaken by

individuals reveals blurred edges with other movement-based activities. Mobility

studies, by taking movement, displacement, and the relationship between mobility

and immobility as starting points, sheds light on the processes and practices that

underlie tourism. As Hannam (2009) argues, “[n]ot only does a mobilities perspective

lead us to discard our usual notions of spatiality and scale, but it also undermines

existing linear assumptions about temporality and timing, which often assume that

actors are able to do only one thing at a time, and that events follow each other in a

linear order” (p. 109; see also Hannam et al., 2006).

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Chapter Four: Methodology

Ethnographic methods

“Ethnography uniquely explores lived experience in all its richness and complexity”

(Herbert, 2000, p. 551). Yet, this method remains relatively rare and peripheral in

geographic research. Ley (1988) argues, however, the “geographer’s charge to

interpret the complex relations of people and place requires a methodology of

engagement not detachment, of informal dialogue as well as formal documentation”

(p. 126, see also Winchester, 2005). Ethnographic methods offer this level of

engagement. In order to understand the spatial networks, community dynamics,

motivations, goals, and experiences of these lifestyle rock climbers, a multiple

method study was conducted, which includes an investigation of one specific

climbing destination – Red River Gorge, Kentucky – as well as the larger cyberspace

component of the community at Rockclimbing.com. According to Stocking (1983),

the ethnographic method is comprised of three modes – participation, observation,

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and interrogation. This ethnographic study addresses the research objectives by

incorporating distinct methods of data collection, including participant observation,

performative methodologies, interviews, questionnaires, textual analysis, and online

forum analysis.

Fieldwork began in August 2011 and continued through November, with a few

short breaks to return to Bloomington interspersed. While it is possible to climb in the

Red River Gorge year-round, the summer and winter months are particularly sparse.

Springtime brings a small population of lifestyle climbers and larger numbers of

weekend climbers, but autumn offers the peak climbing season in eastern Kentucky.

Full-time rock climbers begin to arrive in The Red in late August to early September,

setting up camp, or parking their van or RV, at Miguel’s Pizza. Therefore, my

fieldwork began a bit earlier than the arrival of this population so as to assess the

live-in climbers, those that spend the entire year in The Red, and to observe the

growth of the population as the fall season develops.

Although it was anticipated that this early introduction to the community would

help to establish an “insider” position in the community, this was not achieved.

Because I do not, myself, rock climb nor live out of my vehicle or tent, I was never

fully accepted into that community. The lifestyle climbers I met were, nevertheless,

quite welcoming, friendly, and open to conversation. Miguel’s Pizza was the primary

location of participant observation and interviews, but this study also extended to

various climbing and social areas to document behavior and interactions. The annual

Rocktoberfest rock climbing festival was the main source of questionnaire

administration. These various locations, community events, and social spaces

facilitated the examination of discrepancies between thoughts and deeds, between

what people say and what they do (Eyles, 1988; Herbert, 2000; DeWalt & DeWalt,

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2002). Moreover, analysis of the forums on Rockclimbing.com, which was completed

before entering the field, aided in developing interview questions and observational

cues.

While all methodologies rely upon interpretation, it is particularly central to

ethnographic approaches. This is because the complexities and subtleties of social

life are not always directly observable. “The meanings of objects and events are

often revealed through practices, reactions, cursory comments and facial

expressions” (Herbert, 2000, p. 553). Yet, this reliance on interpretation has also

resulted in what Herbert (2000) points out as three distinct criticisms regarding the

science, generalization, and representation of ethnographic data. Concerns

regarding the scientific nature of ethnography arise from judgments that it is too

subjective, idiosyncratic, and difficult to replicate. Mitigation of such concerns

therefore requires attention to detail in note taking, so that the researcher can be as

explicit as possible about how interpretations were derived (Herbert, 2000; Cicourel,

1964; DeWalt & DeWalt, 2002). Because ethnography requires an intimate familiarity

with the studied group, it tends to rely on small sample sizes, which fuels concerns

about generalizability. To improve scientific rigor and generalizability, ethnographers

should choose sites that can stand in for other cases, conduct comparative analysis,

combine methods, and test theoretical conclusions in the field. In terms of

representation, concerns have been raised as to the power differential between the

observer and the observed in the ethnographic relationship (Winchester, 2005).

Thus, Herbert (2000) suggests three related practices that should be implemented

by ethnographers to mitigate criticisms of representation – forthrightness, reflexivity

and modesty (see also DeWalt & DeWalt, 2002). Each of these concerns, and the

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ways to mitigate them, have been considered and are explained in more detail along

with each of the ethnographic methods employed in this study.

Participant observation

Participant observation is a method in which the researcher observes and

participates as both an “insider” and “outsider” in the daily activities of a social group

for an extended period of time, as a means to understand group relations and its

shared cultural constructions (Herbert, 2000; Tedlock, 2000; DeWalt & DeWalt,

2002; Winchester, 2005). My fieldwork in The Red was based on participant

observation at a number of climber-associated areas, from Miguel’s Pizza to other

local restaurants to crags.

DeWalt and DeWalt (2002), suggest a continuum of participation

(nonparticipation, passive, moderate, active, complete) and community membership

(no membership role, peripheral, active, full). These two spectrums illustrate the

researcher’s perspective on data collection as well as the community’s perspective

on the presence of the researcher. For fieldwork in eastern Kentucky, participant

observation was moderate, which means the researcher “is present at the scene of

the action, is identifiable as a researcher, but [...] only occasionally interacts”

(DeWalt & DeWalt, 2002, p. 20). A cabin was rented just five miles from the pizzeria

to better ensure safety of personal items but still allow easy access to the site. I

visited Miguel’s Pizza on a daily basis to observe and interview lifestyle climbers;

other days were spent at crags or other social spaces. In terms of community

membership, I maintained only a peripheral status (Adler & Adler, 1994; DeWalt &

DeWalt, 2002). While I frequently visited Miguel’s Pizza, my lack of residence at the

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pizzeria and non-participation in rock climbing kept some distance between the

community and myself.

In participant observation being able to communicate and behave

appropriately are essential to acceptance by the host community and therefore can

have a significant impact on observational opportunities. DeWalt and DeWalt (2002)

refer to this as “talking the talk” and “walking the walk”. Effective communication

extends beyond language to understanding the local setting, ability to follow informal

conversation, comprehend and join in jokes (DeWalt & DeWalt, 2002). The climbing

community, as do all subcultures, has a vocabulary of slang and jargon unique to

their use. Because of my long time association with the climbing community I have

learned to understand and speak this jargon20. Gatekeepers, facilitators, or sponsors

can also play an important role in community entrance and acceptance. Several

contacts were established in eastern Kentucky, and the transiency within the lifestyle

climber community can actually facilitate entrance, as membership is constantly

changing. Of minor concern to establishing rapport, however, was the issue of

gender. Extreme sports, in general, have a majority of male participants and rock

climbing is no exception. It is estimated that the rock climbing community in the Red

is about 60% male, and this disparity is stronger with lifestyle climbers who are

estimated to be about 70% male. This, however, is changing as more women are

choosing to take up the sport.

Observation in the field has a number of purposes – counting,

complementing, and contextualizing (DeWalt & DeWalt, 2002; Kearns, 2005). In

participant observation the researcher is the tool of data collection and fieldnotes are 20 While I am not a rock climber, my husband and many of our friends are climbers. From gym climbers to leisure climbers to weekend warriors to lifestyle climbers, I have relationships with various styles of rock climbers, some of which date more than a decade in length.

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simultaneously data and analysis (DeWalt & DeWalt, 2002; Kearns, 2005).

Therefore keeping a pad of paper and pen at hand at all times is essential. DeWalt

and DeWalt (2002) suggest these guidelines when observing and taking notes:

attend to details (such as arrangement of space), movement, activities, words

spoken, interaction with researcher, non-verbal communication, counting, active

listening, note the “usual” for comparison with the “unusual”, “exceptions”. In addition

to following these guidelines for my fieldnotes, I also maintained a journal that was

used to log my schedule and events, make critically reflexive notes about the

fieldwork methodology, and record analytical notes and hypotheses that were tested

while still in the field. Fieldnotes were then transcribed using HyperTranscribe and

coded in HyperResearch, along with interviews.

Interviews

The most widely used qualitative methods are oral interviews, ranging from

highly structured and generalizable to conversional and individualistic (Winchester,

2005). Dunn (2005, p. 80) argues, “one of the major strengths of interviewing is that

it allows you to discover what is relevant to the informant […] it brings people ‘into’

the research process.” There are four main reasons for using interviews – to fill a

gap in knowledge left from other methods, investigate complex behaviors and

motivations, collect a diversity of meanings, opinions and experiences, and access

the informant’s worldview (Dunn, 2005, p. 80). Moreover, participant observation and

interviews are particularly complementary qualitative methods as they provide a

direct way to examine the relations between what subjects say and what they do.

For lifestyle climbers this comparison extended from the ways in which they perform

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and speak about rock climbing to their everyday lifestyle habits and motivations for

taking up and maintaining this hypermobile pursuit.

This project utilized informal, unstructured, and semi-structured interviews.

“Rather than being question focused like a structured interview, or content focused

as in semi-structured format, the unstructured interview is informant based” (Dunn,

2005, p. 88). In informal and unstructured interviews the researcher follows the lead

of the participants but asks occasional questions to focus the topic or to clarify points

(DeWalt & DeWalt, 2002). This being a relatively social community facilitated such

an interview approach. Conversations about climbing and traveling take place

morning, noon, and night from coffee in the morning at Miguel’s, to relaxing at the

crag between climbs, and over pizza and around the campfire in the evening.

Semi-structured interviews were used to obtain more direct answers to

questions of motivations, goals, and experiences of lifestyle climbing. Semi-

structured interviews are more topic-oriented and generally make use of an interview

guide (DeWalt & DeWalt, 2002; Dunn, 2005). This method was also useful because

most of the semi-structured interviews took place with individuals, away from larger

groups. This afforded interviewees a bit more privacy to express their individual

motivations and experiences. In fact, it was noted during the semi-structured

interviews that several interviewees lowered the volume of their voice when others

would pass by. In addition, these more in-depth interviews revealed variations in

motivations, level of dedication, family relationships, and identity that more informal

interviews and conversations homogenized. A list of interview questions can be

found in Appendix B.

While conversations and informal interviews were recorded through notes

after the engagement, semi-structured interviews were audio recorded. Using a

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recording device is preferable, as this allows for a more natural conversation pace

and active listening without the preoccupation of note taking. All interviews were

transcribed using HyperTranscribe and then coded and analyzed with

HyperResearch. Transcriptions were made within a few days of each interview to

begin the analysis process by reflecting on themes, methodology, and theoretical

implications that could then be further tested while still in the field. Transcripts were

labeled with informant’s (pseudo) name, number of the interview (session), along

with a description including the date of session, the location, duration of interview,

background and circumstances of the interview. Individuals are referred to by

pseudonyms in this study, with names chosen to reflect gender.

For the semi-structured interviews, criterion sampling, which “involves

picking cases that meet some criterion” (Bradshaw & Stratford, 2005, p. 72), was

used. In this case participants identified themselves as full-time rock climbers, or

formerly so. In addition, snowball, or chain, sampling was also employed, as some

interviewees suggested others to contact. A total of 21 lifestyle climbers were

interviewed during this project. Because this community is highly mobile and diffuse,

it is difficult to estimate its population size to determine a representative sampling

unit. Moreover, it was frequently observed that subcultural tensions exists in regards

to who qualifies as a “lifer”. Those who have been traveling and rock climbing full-

time for more than five years frequently noted that time span as a minimum for

acceptance and expression of dedication, whereas those who have been engaged in

this lifestyle for only a few years tended to self-identify with this group as well. In

asking several interviewees their thoughts on the size of this population, I received a

range of responses from “only about 250” to “well over 1000”, thus expressing the

various interpretations of who qualifies as a lifestyle climber.

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As the site most frequented by lifestyle climbers in The Red, Miguel’s Pizza

can accommodate as many as 500 campers, although most weekends do not see

more than 150-200 people. Moreover, the majority of campers are not lifestyle

climbers but weekend, leisure climbers and the “lifer” population fluctuates

throughout the season. During fieldwork, as few as 15 and as many as 60 lifestyle

climbers were observed at Miguel’s Pizza. A gender ratio of about 30% female was

also observed among the lifestyle climbers, although this was slightly higher among

the general rock climbing population. Of the 21 interviews with lifestyle climbers, 6

were women. The ages of participants ranged from 19 to 56 years old. These

lifestyle climbers have been rock climbing for as little two years and as long as 20

years and traveling for the sport from one to 17 years. As a result these participants

represent a range of lifestyle climbers, from beginners to veterans, male and female.

However, these lifestyle climbers, as reflected in the rock climbing population in

general, were predominantly white (see Erikson, 2005). All of the interviewees were

Americans, with the exception of one Canadian and one French.

Discourse analysis

While discourse analysis is informed by a number of theoretical perspectives,

a Foucauldian approach is, arguably, the most prevalent (Waitt, 2005). This

approach builds from Foucault’s theorization of “discourse” which extends beyond its

linguistic meaning to incorporate his concepts of power, genealogy, and truth. Waitt

(2005, p. 164) argues that Foucault “conceptualizes discourse within a theoretically

informed framework that investigates the rules about the production of knowledge

through language (meanings) and its influence over what we do (practice).” The

analysis of discourse, therefore, becomes a way to examine the outcomes of

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discourse in terms of perceptions, attitudes, and actions, to identify frameworks

through which social knowledge is produced, circulated, and communicated, and to

uncover the mechanisms that maintain such social knowledge as “natural”, or

“commonsensical” (Waitt, 2005).

Discourse analysis is a form of textual analysis. Various forms of textual

analysis can be utilized in both quantitative (content analysis) and qualitative

(semiology, iconography, interpretative) research. While these methods analyze the

text as a transparent vehicle of expression, discourse analysis prioritizes “the effects

of a particular cultural text on what an individual may do or think by unraveling its

production, social context, and intended audience” (Waitt, 2005, p. 166). In fact,

discourse analysis frequently proceeds from these textual methods (Rose, 2001;

Waitt, 2005). Likewise for this project the transcriptions of fieldnotes and interviews

were coded and then followed by discourse analysis, with a particular focus on

intertextuality – “the way in which meanings are sustained through mutually related

verbal, written, and visual texts” (Waitt, 2005, p. 168). Therefore, the forums of

Rockclimbing.com, Redriverclimbing.com, and rock climbing magazine articles

focused on lifestyle climbing were also analyzed.

Online forums are particularly complementary to ethnographies such as this.

Altheide et al. (2008, p. 135), suggest “an ethnographic perspective can be brought

to bear on symbolic communication in other than ‘physical spaces’, including

information bases and cyberspace” (see also Hine, 2006). In fact, Mautner (2005)

argues, “if it was not for the internet, many representations of reality and social

relationships would not be articulated at all” (p. 813). While the rock climbing

community is based in physical, real world actions and relationships,

Rockclimbing.com does add elements of community cohesion and extends its social

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relationships worldwide, as it is the largest and most expansive website and

interactive cyber-space dedicated to the sport. A search of the forums at

Rockclimbing.com for the word “dirtbag”, the most common vernacular term used in

the climbing community to represent a lifestyle climber, resulted in 3433 individual

posts, as of January 11, 2011. These were saved and printed for initial analysis; they

were then coded and analyzed along with fieldnotes and interviews using

HyperResearch. These, however, represent online conversations up to that point in

time, and it is recognized that these threads will continue. While this is a “frozen”,

static version of a dynamic original, it is preferable to having no record at all.

Therefore, some threads, those most pertinent to questions of motivations, goals

and experiences, have been monitored over the course of fieldwork for further

conversational developments. The majority, however, were last active several years

ago. Because individuals post their own comments to forum discussion threads,

quotes from these posts are kept as is, including any spelling or grammatical errors.

References to individual’s comments are cited in terms of the thread number and

post number, for example T3P56 represents post number 56 within conversation

thread three.

Rock climbing as a sport is also represented by a segment of the consumer

industry, including gear and clothing companies, a number of video series, and

books and magazines. Several of the most popular rock climbing magazines,

including Climbing, Rock & Ice, Urban Climber, and Deadpoint Magazine, were also

examined. Although an exhaustive search was not conducted, several articles

focused on “dirtbagging” and lifestyle climbers were located. These have also been

coded and analyzed using HyperResearch.

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Performative methodologies

Whereas discourse analysis examines representations of experiences,

performances as texts, the effects of communication on perceptions and behavior,

and the power structures that circulate specific ideologies, performative

methodologies seek to examine in-the-moment events, experiences, and

interactions. They are used to get beneath the “representations” to just the

“presentations” (Thrift, 1997; Dewsbury, et al., 2002; Dirksmeier & Helbrecht, 2008).

They attend to the agency of things as well as people (Clark, 2003) and accept that

some elements of experience are “unspeakable”, “unwriteable” and therefore,

“unrepresentable” (Harrison, 2006; Laurier & Philo, 2006). In general, performative

methodologies are relatively new and hotly contested. While some suggest the only

way to appropriately examine performance is to be fully participatory in the event,

others argue that ethnographic methods are useful for interrogating moments as

they happen (Cloke, et al., 2004; Wylie, 2007).

One objective of this research is to investigate the strengths and weaknesses

of discursive versus performative theories, and their respective methodologies, for

travel research. Because online conversations, such as those on Rockclimbing.com

and Redriverclimbing.com, are not immediately observable or participatory, but are

distant conversations in which individuals are communicating and circulating

perceptions, opinions, identities, and ideologies they are a form of discourse.

Likewise, climbing magazines are representations of the sport, its diversity, and

lifestyle manifestations. These are not in-the-moment events to participate in or to be

observed. The ethnographic methods of participant observation and interviews,

however, offer the researcher the ability to utilize either, or both, approaches. While

fieldnotes of observations and transcripts of interviews have been coded and

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analyzed, as per discourse analysis, these data were collected “in-the-moment” of

lifestyle climbers’ everyday lives and can be compared to those representations on

online forums and media. In other words, most climbers writing about “dirtbagging”

on Rockclimbing.com are ambitious or reflective of the lifestyle, that is, they write

about preparing to begin living minimally, traveling, and rock climbing, or they write

in the past tense about experiences they once had when they used to dirtbag. Very

few instances have been found among these online conversations in which a

lifestyle climber is writing about dirtbagging while they are actively pursuing it.

Observations and conversations with lifestyle climbers at Miguel’s Pizza,

Rocktoberfest, crags, and other spaces revealed the mundane everyday moments of

life as a rock climber to the exceptionally personal experiences on the rock face.

Therefore, these present-tense moments with the community in eastern Kentucky

are compared to the online conversations to find similarities and differences among

those living the lifestyle and those representing the lifestyle.

Of course, there are also limitations to my ability to apply performative

methodologies and draw conclusions from them. Most significantly, I did not rock

climb while in Kentucky. Therefore, I cannot personally know what it feels like to be

so dedicated to this sport. Additionally, I did not live out of my vehicle, an RV, or a

tent, nor did I travel between climbing destinations. Overall, I was not fully

participatory in the community I have studied, and therefore, I have not been able to

utilize all aspects of performative methodologies.

Questionnaires

Questionnaires can be used to produce both qualitative and quantitative data.

They are useful tools for collecting data about people, their behavior and social

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interactions, attitudes, opinions, and the extent of social knowledge (McGuirk &

O’Neill, 2005). For this project questionnaires have been used to collect basic

demographic and descriptive travel pattern data about the rock climbing community

in eastern Kentucky. Respondents were asked to provide information pertaining to

their age, gender, education level, occupation, climbing style and preferences. In

addition, the questionnaire lists many of the most popular climbing destinations in

the Untied States, from which participants were asked to indicate which they have

visited, the general time period of their most recent visit along with the climbing style

they engaged at that location. These data are used to develop some general travel

patterns of rock climbers who frequent Appalachian Kentucky broadly, and lifestyle

climbers more specifically, as well as to further investigate spatial dynamics and

community structure of these itinerant climbers.

During the first two weeks of fieldwork several acquaintances within the

climbing community of eastern Kentucky were asked to assess the questionnaire in

terms of its structure, clarity of questions, and the climbing destinations listed. This

assessment resulted in the addition of several climbing destinations, particularly

bouldering areas, as the climbers felt that the original list was biased towards

traditional–style climbing destinations. The final questionnaire (see Appendix C) was

administered throughout the fall, but primarily the Rocktoberfest, held October 7-9,

yielded the vast majority of respondents (Figures 4 and 5).

The Rocktoberfest is an annual festival, started in 2000, by the RRGCC to

fundraise for support of the coalition and, in particular, its land purchases.

Rocktoberfest hosts a number of climbing gear and clothing companies, along with a

climbing competition, technique clinics, film showing, and other activities. The

festival in 2011 attracted over 1000 climbers. Although most climbers camp at the

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festival grounds, they spend the morning and afternoon hours at the crag or in

clinics. Therefore festival activities began in the evenings. As a result, I experienced

a number of unanticipated limitations to questionnaire solicitation. Climbers were

only available for participation in the evening hours. Yet, once the sun set it was

difficult to see in the dark in order to complete the questionnaire. So only a few hours

of the day were available for questionnaire solicitation.

Figure 4 - Rocktoberfest 2011. Photograph by author.

A purposive sampling method was used, therefore all participants had to be

rock climbers to participate in this study. This was a fairly straightforward

assessment in locations such as Rocktoberfest and Miguel’s Pizza, which are

frequented by a majority of rock climbers. Very few individuals approached in

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regards to participating in this study were non-climbers. In fact, only five people

stated that they were not rock climbers, but accompanying a friend, partner, or they

worked as an industry representative. A total of 148 questionnaires were completed,

with a 90% response rate. Overall, participants were very positive about participating

in the study, with frequent comments about how much they enjoy traveling to rock

climb and that they would like to keep a questionnaire to have a comprehensive

checklist of the best climbing areas in the States. In fact, several individuals sought

me out to complete the questionnaire, as they had heard from other climbers about

the project. As one climber noted, “I want to see how I measure up to other dirtbags.”

Figure 5 - Rocktoberfest 2011. Photograph by author.

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After questionnaire solicitation was complete and data were coded, a series

of factors were used to distinguish lifestyle climbers from the larger rock climbing

population. Some observational data obtained during the questionnaire process,

including conversations with individuals, helped to indicate full-time climbers. For

example, a couple of individuals noted living out of their van or vehicle and climbing

for a number of years, and therefore some had difficulty answering the question of

their current residence and/or occupation. Other indicators used post-questionnaire

completion included hours per week spent climbing and frequency of travel in order

to climb, in combination with responses to current residence and occupation. Of the

148 questionnaires obtained in this study, 27 represent lifestyle climbers.

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CHAPTER FIVE: RESULTS AND DISCUSSION Drawing on ethnographic data of the lifestyle climber community from Red River

Gorge, Kentucky as well as the online forums of Rockclimbing.com, and other

regional sites and climbing media, this chapter examines this subculture within the

rock climbing community. To begin, the cultural identity of “dirtbag” is interrogated,

highlighting changes over time in the climbing community, current contestations and

perceptions, as well as its use as both a noun and a verb. Next, questionnaire data

regarding travel patterns of the general rock climbing community and lifestyle

climbers are compared. While lifestyle climbers and leisure climbers exhibit similar

travel patterns, the frequency of destination visits suggests one characteristic of

intra-community division. The community dynamics of rock climbers are further

explored in the following section. Not only do rock climbers divide across categories

of climbing style, region, dedication, and generation there is further division among

lifestyle climbers, with examples of exclusive actions, inclusive rituals, and

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territorialization practices provided. Finally, by examining the motivations, goals, and

experiences of lifestyle climbers, individual subjectivities are revealed.

What is a dirtbag?

Lifestyle travel, as a typology, has been developed from several travel

modes, most notably the drifter and the backpacker, as well as lifestyle migration

(Cohen, 2010a; 2010b; 2011). It is a term used to describe the transition from

tourism to travel as a way of life. It is differentiated from its predecessors by longer

time spans, years and even decades, and the lack of aimless wandering (Cohen,

2010a; 2010b; 2011). However, unlike lifestyle migrants, lifestyle travelers do not

settle down in a single location.

Lifestyle climbers are most closely related to the concept of lifestyle travel,

with similarly long journeys framed by well-developed, yet flexible, itineraries, and as

a result they express similarities with several travel phenomena, including

backpacking, drifting, and tramping, as well as pilgrimage, nature religions, and

spiritual journeys. Moreover, the small population of lifestyle climbers has developed

a strong sense of identity from this pursuit, both individually and collectively.

Although “lifestyle climber” is an appropriately descriptive term for this endeavor, it is

only used in academics and was not observed being used among active lifestyle

climbers. Instead, they use a series of self-imposed identifiers, most commonly

“dirtbag”, as descriptive of their minimalist lifestyles as well as its long history in this

sport community (see Taylor, 2010), but also the terms “lifer” and “full-timer”,

suggesting their commitment, “vanner”, which describes the most common mode of

housing and travel, and even “hustler”, as a way to denote their enterprising spirit.

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In Craig Stevens’ article, “Confessions of a Dirtbag” in Dead Point Magazine,

the author writes of this lifestyle and social group:

A funny thing happens to a person when they find themselves stuck in the elements with no food, no water, and no cash. Whether it’s natural instinct that takes over, progressive de-evolution, or a mixture of both, something inside all of us emerges in times of desperation and proves that no matter how long and dark the tunnel may be, there’s always a light at the end. Sometimes the end just happens to be tucked away beneath stale bread and moldy oranges. This is the point at which everyday climbing bums transcend into a new social ranking altogether. Dirtbags. (2010, p. 46, emphasis added)

Despite his melodramatic tone, the author goes on to explain how one can

manage to feed oneself on only a few dollars a week, how inessential daily or even

hot showers and other modern creature comforts are, and the fruits of undertaking

such a minimalist lifestyle. But what remains unspoken in his confessions is the

voluntary nature of this very self-induced poverty. Dirtbags choose this lifestyle,

rather than being pushed into it as a result of economic circumstance. In fact, the

majority come from middle- and upper-class families and have given up significant

educational and career opportunities to pursue rock climbing full-time. According to

another peripatetic climber, “Dirtbag to me has always meant a sacrifice in life’s

luxuries to maintain an intense climbing schedule. [...] Poverty is most certainly

required, why else would you live like that?” Moreover, Stevens notes that the

number of “individuals taking favor to the idea of calling home wherever you decide

to lay your head is growing”, as dirtbagging, he asserts, “is not based on a need to

alienate oneself from society, but instead a passion to seek out new experiences

that force us to live completely in the moment, and through that, achieve an entirely

new level of appreciation for the simplest pleasures” (2010, p. 49).

Rockclimbing.com contains numerous conversational threads that directly

address the question of “what is a dirtbag?” within the rock climbing community; in

addition, this issue is also frequently raised in the middle of other threads pertaining

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to the strategy of dirtbagging. A strong correspondence was observed in these forum

posts to definitions provided by active lifestyle climbers during interviews and

conversations. Although one online user declares, “you can take the dirtbag out of

the climber, but you can't take the climber out of the dirtbag” (T14P29), the desire for

more focused and frequent rock climbing is unspoken for the most part on the online

forum, while in interviews with lifestyle climbers this was mentioned as the most

important definitional component and motivational factor. This suggests that among

the online community of Rockclimbing.com the common bond of rock climbing is

obvious, it does not need to be elaborated upon; however, in interviews with an

outsider to the community this baseline is more clearly defined. As a result, these

climbers offered a number of related definitions of a “dirtbag”.

A dirtbag to me is someone that lives cheap, kind of dirty, and above all else into climbing. It takes precedence, number one, whatever they have to do to be climbing they do, whether that's dumpster diving, or hitching rides, or wearing dirty clothes forever, this, that and the next thing. (Mike)

I would say I am a dirtbag. To me, I mean, that's kind of a negative word for some people. For me, it’s just choosing another way of life. I mean, you don't really have a house. You are either living in your van, your tent, on the ground, wherever. And you might not shower everyday and you must live more simple and outside. That would define it for me, a dirtbag. And more than likely you are going to do outdoor activities and be climbing, hiking, kayaking, and whatever. But, yeah, living outside and simply. (Elouise)

There’s a lot of deep-rooted sentiment with that word in the climbing community. To me, I’d say a dirtbag is just someone who lets the act of the climbing dictate their life. I don’t know that there’s any real prerequisite for being a dirtbag, definitely it comes with a financial stigma. But I don’t really think that's all that important. Someone who believes in rock climbing, it’s not something they’re doing recreationally. It is recreating, but it can be approached in a lot of different ways. And most of the dirtbags are out there because climbing means something to them, they believe in it and they believe it’s going to do something to them. I’d go a step further and say they don’t even believe in it because then that sounds sort of faith-based. They know it, they’ve seen it make a change in their life and they keep pursuing that. (Kevin)

While each lifestyle climber indicated strong personal similarities to their

definition of a dirtbag, with the majority self-identifying as such, a strong minority was

not comfortable with the label.

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I definitely try and live cheaply and on a budget. But I’m not willing to eat Ramen, and I like to eat good food. I’m not willing to sacrifice some of those things. […] I just don’t think I’m quite cheap enough to be considered a dirtbag. [...] I’m living behind a pizza shop in an RV, but if I didn’t climb I would not be here. There's no way. (Heather)

I certainly wouldn't call myself a dirtbag. I wouldn’t call myself a working professional, as well. I make pizza for nine months out of the year and travel. (Mike)

Likewise, Susan was uncomfortable identifying herself as a dirtbag. Moreover, she

explained that the term can be both a noun and a verb, so while she is “dirtbagging”,

she is not a “dirtbag”. For her this a temporary endeavor, whereas “real dirtbags”

have committed to this lifestyle for the long-term, and “they are proud of their dirtbag-

ness, they pride themselves on it”.

Taylor’s history of American rock climbing traces the contentious nature of

this term, arguing, “Dirtbags was a hopelessly subjective term that could serve as

epithet or badge of honor” (2010, p. 218). So while several lifestyle climbers noted

that there is a strong division in the rock climbing community regarding dirtbagging,

and many offered reasons for why they felt some do not support this as a lifestyle

and/or a strategy, this was most strongly observed on the online forums. On

Rockclimbing.com there was a fairly even divide between those who support lifestyle

climbing and those who do not. In particular, opponents argue that dirtbags do not

fulfill their societal obligations (T2P20, T2P45, T3P14), as they do not uphold their

“personal responsibility” (T2P38, T2P47) as “productive members of society” (T2P1).

As stated by these climbers:

When you take on the dirtbag life style [sic] you are rejecting your obligations to soceity [sic] while simultaneously benefiting from other's. (T2P131)

Your "total freedom" is contingent upon living parasitically on the peripheries of the most exploitative, destructive, and selfish culture in the history of humanity. The obscene wealth of this country is what makes doing so possible in the first place. (T2P47)

You should take the next step and just get on welfare like all the rest of the parasites who feed off of everyone else. Every climber wants to climb all day and not work but that’s not how it works. (T3P25)

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However, while others long for the opportunity, they note financial constraints

(T6P10, T6P28, T32P3) and family responsibilities (T6P5, T6P32, T6P53) that keep

them at home and only climbing for leisure.

I'd do it if I didn't have children. Without hesitating. (T6P3)

Anyone can go get a job and ‘contribute to society’; it takes a real man/woman to embrace the ideals of freedom and sacrifice the comforts of financial gain. (T2P16)

Every day that I continue to work the 40-40 plan [40 hours a week for 40 years], the draw of the dirtbag gets stronger and stronger. (T6P21)

I am feeling pretty much like I'm missing out on the best traveling years of my life to work. (T8P24)

For those who identify themselves as dirtbags, they speak of the title with

pride. A dirtbag “is someone who lives a very frugal existence to maintain their

rockclimbing lifestyle, keeping the sport pure and from being corrupted by money.”

(T3P28) Therefore, to be a dirtbag, for however short or long a time, takes a certain

attitude or mind-set, argues those who take up the lifestyle (T3P24, T16P27,

T43P9).

Part of being a ‘dirtbag’ is the ability to figure your way through your adventure. (T26P3)

If money and material possessions are important to you, this life is not for you. (T6P46)

Truth is, there is a huge difference between what is needed and what is desired. We often confuse these things. (T2P44)

life = short, time = limited, climbing = freedom [...] frightening how many lives are lived without risking things for freeing experiences. climbing is in my world freeing. but sacrifices must be made – money, material wealth. (T2P105)

Moreover, they described it as a “way of life” (T2P93, T11P28, T18P10)

accompanied by strong community bonds (T2P24, T20P25, T21P11).

there are communities of like minded people to hang out with (T6P45)

they reject loyalty to the needs of a larger society in the name of loyalty to the much smaller society that holds an obvious place for them. (T2P109)

Considering the multiple factors by which these climbers define a “dirtbag”,

and “dirtbagging”, there exist a number of similarities with other travel modes. The

strong community networks, the presence of well-defined circuits of destinations,

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and the use of this identity as social capital suggest backpacking as a common

typology (see Riley, 1988; Shaffer, 2004; O’Reilly, 2006). However, the longer time

spans common to lifestyle climbing, usually years rather than weeks or months, is

more akin to drifting, and with that also comes a minimalist lifestyle and highly

flexible itinerary (Cohen, 1973; 1979; Theroux, 1975; Riley, 1988). In addition, many

drifters note social rebellion or political protest as a catalyst for their traveling

(Cohen, 1973; 1979) and likewise most dirtbags describe a disconnect between

themselves and contemporary, capitalist society, which is discussed in more detailed

below. Tramping and drifting are very closely related travel modes (Cohen, 1973).

With tramping, however, decisions to travel are most related to the need for work

(Adler, 1985). Lifestyle climbers are driven to new destinations for a specific purpose

- rock climbing – they do not wander aimlessly.

To be discussed in more detail below are the experiences that come from

lifestyle climbing, which suggest strong ties to pilgrimage and spiritual journeys as

well. Although rock climbing is a recreational activity, all lifestyle climbers interviewed

in this study and the majority of climbers posting on online forums described it as a

deeply meaningful endeavor. For most, rock climbing is existential, for some it is

meditation-like, and for others climbing is spiritual. Moreover, lifestyle climbers

emphasized the continuous journey of their pursuit over the individual destinations.

Pilgrimage, as a journey between sites of spiritual significance during which strong,

temporary community bonds are forged, therefore strongly parallels this pursuit (see

Turner, 1973).

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Travel patterns

Online forums and conversations with climbers suggest lifestyle climbers are

a subculture of the larger rock climbing community, particularly in terms of dedication

and sacrifice for the sport. An examination of travel patterns supports this distinction

as well. Taylor’s (2010) history explains that Yosemite climbers of the 1950s were

the first to make climbing a lifestyle, finding ways to financially support a full-time

pursuit of the sport. With a desire to climb year-round came the necessity for travel

and, as a result, some the first “circuits” were born as they traversed the West Coast

following the climbing season. This remains the most prominent climbing circuit of

today, with its destinations among the most discussed on Rockclimbing.com. And

while this study took place in Kentucky, these lifestyle climbers are well aware of and

do frequent such destinations.

The Red is now the new, awesome place to be in October. And the West Coast circuit during the winter, where I guess it goes, Squamish [British Columbia] to Smith [Oregon] to Yosemite [California] to Bishop [California] to possibly Tahoe [California] to Red Rocks [Nevada] to Hueco [Texas] to Tahquitz [California] or whatever and then right back up the coast again. [...] I guess the west coast circuit is probably the one that is the most ingrained in the dirtbag, like, migration pattern. (Susan)

To understand the travel patterns of lifestyle climbers, in relation to the

general climbing population, questionnaire participants were solicited throughout the

fall months of 2011 in the Red River Gorge area. A total of 148 questionnaires were

completed and analyzed. Lifestyle climbers were distinguished from the population

by a series of measures, including observational and conversational data, as well as

questionnaire information regarding hours per week spent climbing and frequency of

travel in order to climb, in combination with responses to current residence and

occupation questions. This resulted in 27 lifestyle climbers among the 148 surveyed

rock climbers. The travel data of these two populations were then mapped in terms

of frequencies of visitation (Figures 6 and 7). Thus, the maps show that the general

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travel pattern is quite similar across the rock climbing population sampled. For those

who spend time in The Red in the fall months, whether a leisure climber or a lifestyle

climber, the nearby destinations of the New River Gorge, West Virginia, and

Chattanooga, Tennessee are most popular. Following this, the Shawangunk

Mountains of New York; Boulder, Colorado; Hueco Tanks, Texas; and Las Vegas

area of Nevada are also often visited for climbing. The primary distinguishing factor

in travel behavior of lifestyle climbers from the general population of climbers is the

frequencies with which these destinations are visited, with lifestyle climbers

indicating a greater travel repertoire.

Lifestyle climbers, as a result of their hypermobile lifestyles, follow travel

circuits. These circuits, however, are not set itineraries but informed by a series of

factors, seasonality, climbing style, regional preferences, and individual

circumstances. So while some travel to the same destinations each year, others are

more flexible, with only a couple of specific destinations determined and are open to

adding different destinations to their itineraries. And although the majority of lifestyle

climbers maintain a domestic circuit, a few are international.

Last couple of years, my schedule has been The Red all [fall] season, go to Squamish [British Columbia] in the summer for at least month, I fly usually cause it’s just too far, too expensive. After Thanksgiving I usually move to Chattanooga [Tennessee] for December, then to Hueco Tanks [Texas] for January, February. That’s been my schedule the last couple of years. (Carl)

I am leaving here after Thanksgiving and I’ll be going to Bishop, California for a month, then I’ll go to Hueco, Texas for two months. Then probably back here for the spring. (Heather)

I was spending from spring to summertime in U.S., then I was going back to France and what I've been doing is going to Thailand in wintertime, then Greece, Kalymnos, in March, then coming back. That is kind of my circuit now. (Elouise)

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Figure 6 (Map by Todd Lindley)

Figure 7 (Map by Todd Lindley)

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Therefore, in comparing these two maps, while the pattern of destinations is

the same, the frequencies are quite different among these groups. It is this

frequency of visitation, with repeat trips to similar destinations that establish a

community among this subculture. For those who follow a more rigid circuit, year

after year, Susan explains,

You’ll see the same people at every single place, every campground you’ll be with those people for the entire winter just cause you guys are going to go to the same place when the weather turns bad.

And while the community is more dynamic for those who are more keen to

change up their itineraries, there still exists a strong familiarity.

It’s a small number of people in this country that are out there climbing full-time. [...] Folks, guys and girls you see out there day in, day out, you know, over the course of years and years and years is pretty small. Who knows, probably a hundred? So you get to know them. They’re the folks you’re going to see in Hueco [Texas] in the winter. They’re the folks that are going to be in Tuolumne [California] in the summer, the Valley [Yosemite, California] in spring. There’s all these little pockets and some of them have cycles, but some hole up in certain areas more than others. (Kevin)

While lifestyle climbers do exhibit similarities with communitas, the

spontaneous, temporary communities that occur during pilgrimage (Turner, 1973)

and tourism (Wang, 1999), there are also significant differences. These lifestyle

climber communities are made manifest in the destinations they frequent; yet, they

do not disintegrate once one moves on to the next location. As these itinerant

climbers explain, this community is spread across these destinations, so that some

follow the same circuits maintaining strong ties as they travel. Others are more

whimsical in their travel patterns, but they nevertheless encounter familiar faces.

Jack, for example, told a story of happenstance in which he ran into someone he

knew from The Red while he was climbing in France.

This understanding of community as spatially diffuse, yet strong in the places

climbers converge lends support to the way in which mobilities studies approaches

place and globalization. For lifestyle climbers, place is not shaped by long-term

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settlement of a location, but is a result of repeated encounters with space and the

performance of rock climbing and community. Rather than increased mobility and

globalization resulting in “placelessness”, as Relph (1976) feared, place is a network

of connectivity, performed through the collective gatherings when individual’s travel

circuits overlap. As a result of such postmodern encounters with place, Massey

(1995) argues place is better understood as “throwntogetherness”.

Many destinations, particularly the most visited, develop reputations for the

communities they foster. These are known as “scenes” among the climbing

community, with each having a distinct personality.

Most places I can’t get comfortable in less than two weeks. So two weeks to get used to it, then anything beyond that you get some things done. Then, also, you just get a sense of the area and what it has to offer. If you’re climbing in Spain, it’s going to be a lot mellower, nobody is going to get to the cliff until 1:00, after five cups of cappuccino or espresso. In an alpine climbing area, you’re in Tuolumne, everybody's up before the sun so they can start that hike to get in. And those are all good, they have a different vibe. So, yeah, I want to be there for a while. (Kevin)

In fact, a recent climbing film, The Scene (2011), follows some of the world’s

top climbers as they travel between four renowned destinations – Moab, Utah;

Boulder, Colorado; Innsbruck, Austria, and Catalunya, Spain – illustrating not only

different climbing styles that develop out of the geology of a region, but the cultural

variation of the local populations (climbers and not). This variation, as Kevin

explains, influences one’s climbing style for that particular location, but also builds

their skills overall, more importantly it exercises problem-solving abilities, making

one a more diverse climber.

Analysis of questionnaire data also suggests the need for future research.

While the rock climbing community is dispersed across the country, and even the

world, surveys were conducted at just one location – Red River Gorge, Kentucky. As

a result, there is a strong regionality to the travel patterns, with nearby areas in West

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Virginia and Tennessee as prominent as the most popular climbing destinations in

the country, such as Boulder, Colorado; Hueco Tanks, Texas, and Las Vegas,

Nevada, and more frequented than some of the destinations central to the west

coast circuits discussed so intensely on online forums – Yosemite and Joshua Tree,

California, for example. Therefore, future research to survey climbers at a series of

destinations, such as Yosemite to access the West Coast circuit, Boulder for the

Colorado climbers, Hueco Tanks to include the bouldering demographic, and the

Shawangunk Mountains in New York as an East Coast destination, would allow for

the examination of the relations among regionality, climbing style, and travel

behavior influences.

Community dynamics and structure

Lifestyle climbers are a subculture of the rock climbing community. And while

their travel patterns, particularly the breadth of the destinations they have visited, are

one characteristic that distinguishes them within the larger climbing community,

there are also a number of other intra-community and subcultural dynamics that

make lifestyle climbers distinct.

Intra-community divisions

Cohen (1985, p. 12) argues that community is “a relational idea”, signifying

simultaneously similarity and difference, yet perforated with symbolic boundaries and

variations of hierarchy. Overall, the rock climbing community is riddled with issues of

contestation that divide it in numerous ways, from climbing style and ethic to region

of origin and level of experience, as outlined in the history of the sport in Chapter

Two (see also Williams and Donnelly, 1985; Kiewa, 2002; Taylor, 2010). These

divisions are as old as the sport itself. And, as with all communities, individuals may

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have ties to various subcultures and identities (Cohen, 1985; Stebbens, 1997), in

this case related to climbing style, region, and dedication and sacrifices.

Subcultures, argues Stebbens (1997, p. 351), are “derivatives of some larger

referential culture [and] can be said to consist of special norms, beliefs, values,

attitudes, language, technologies, and patterns of behavior, [and] often have a

distinct history.” Dirtbags, therefore, are just one subculture of the climbing

community that can trace their origins back to distinct moments of division and

declaration. Taylor (2010) suggests dirtbags evolved out of a generation of 1950s

Beatnik climbers who established the ideal of climbing as a lifestyle. This “climbing

lifestyle” began at Camp 4 in Yosemite Valley, but in the 1960s it began to spread to

other climbing areas. Among these early devotees arose legends in the rock

climbing community as the limits of what was considered un-climbable were pushed

beyond anyone’s imagination. At the same time, what Taylor (2010) terms the

“strategy” of dirtbagging was being perfected – dumpster diving, sneaking showers,

bumming rides, and developing a circuit – all in an effort to maintain full-time rock

climbing. Accordingly, Taylor writes, “ dirtbags were Brahmins and Untouchables all

in one” (2010, p. 214). Therefore, with the statement of identity, “I am a dirtbag”, one

is not only proclaiming a sense of self and a protest against societal norms, they are

also placing themselves within a subculture of like-minded individuals that has a long

history of social rebellion and intense rock climbing.

These intra-community divisions are experienced in a number of ways, from

actions to material manifestations. James, for example, describes the multiple forms

of accommodations one may witness at a climbing destination, which he correlates

with subcultural identities within the larger rock climbing community.

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You can tell the weekenders that come down here, they have all that shiny new gear and the tent and therma-rest and the sleeping bag. Then the people who live in tents who have, you know, a real set up going on. They’ve got the bigger tents, they don’t have the little backpack-size, they got a shitty Wal-Mart tent cause it’s more comfortable to live in it. A pile of leaves is built up around there from the amount of time it’s been here. It’s all faded. You can see that. Then the people who have the van, that’s balling status. Living in out in the woods long enough to know that they want to be able to stand up on a rainy day. Look [pointing across the parking lot] that guy over there's got solar panels on his so he doesn’t kill his battery, you know. People take it to all kinds of levels. Then you have people like me, who’s got the car, the regular SUV, take out the back seats and throw a bed in it cause that’s better than a tent in the rain and it’s warmer at night. You’ve got some insulation; it’s a step up. Then you've got Sam over there [pointing in another direction], with a van. It’s a quality investment in the van and he’s got the tarp for the rain shelter, like a little shanty. But it’s enough. He’s got the stove in the back with the propane tank; he’s got a Coleman camp stove. That’s another thing you see, people modify their stove. They get away from the green camp stove bottles and they get the big tank, it’s cheaper and easier, and it still hooks up to your stove, and then you’ve got a full on kitchen in your house.

By spending even a small amount of time at a climbing campground, various

lifeways can be observed that are indicative of the needs of climbers (Figure 8).

James points out some differences, such as pack-size tents, which are small and

lightweight, but inadequate for long-term use, whereas the more committed climbers

strive for more comfortable and mobile accommodations, including modified SUVs

and vans to even RVs. While to an outsider of the rock climbing community such a

scene may illustrate the variation among climbers, that is “rock climber” still being

the prominent identification for this community, for insiders this is symbolic of greater

social divisions representing dedication to the sport, mobility, and therefore

proficiency. Cohen (1985, p. 20) explains, “the ‘commonality’ which is found in

community need not be uniformity. […] It is a commonality of forms (ways of

behaving) whose content (meanings) may vary considerably among its members.”

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Figure 8 - Variations in camping accommodations at Miguel's Pizza. Photograph by Bryan Boyd, used with permission.

Yet, James’ observation of Miguel’s parking lot and campground paints only a

contemporary portrait of the climbing community, which has changed dramatically

over recent decades, not only in The Red, but across the U.S., particularly in terms

of size, with individuals of multiple motivations, goals, and experiences moving into

the sport (Taylor, 2010). The ever-evolving climbing community, therefore, has

resulted in new subcultures and interactions. Lifestyle climbers, whose dedication to

the sport keeps individuals immersed in the community across destinations, are

particularly aware of these changes. In explaining what originally drew him to

lifestyle climbing, Carl describes finding the sport and its community when he was

rather young, only about 15 years old, at a time when he also felt a sense of isolation

from his high school peers and did not want to conform to social norms. The climbing

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community offered an alternative lifestyle, which he took up shortly after graduating.

Most importantly, the community he encountered was small, cohesive, and

enthusiastic. Being a “rock climber” initially offered Carl an identity and social capital,

but as he describes, this has changed with the increased popularity of the sport so

that now the “climber” identity is an empty signifier.

Initially I liked, obviously I liked the climbing itself. I like the activity. I also like the community. Back in the late 90s, and I’m sure before as well, especially around Kentucky and the Southeast, climbing wasn’t very mainstream. So it was a great way, at the age I was when I started climbing, for me to enjoy the feelings of nonconformity that you get when you’re that age. So it was like a perfect way for me to plug in. [...] I went to a very athletically oriented high school and I wasn’t too psyched on organized sports. So it was a nice way for me to find something that I was into, you know. Most climbers back then were not just people from the weekend, not just people who had climbed outside a couple of times, they were pretty hard core about it, pretty eccentric and interesting. So I was psyched about that. Ten years later, like these days, I feel like that’s the opposite. I feel climbers are way more mainstream now. Not super interesting people. I just don’t feel, I mean, that’s not a judgment on them, it’s just I don’t feel the community that I used to. It used to be, someone would say ‘I’m a climber’ and I’d immediately feel connected to that person. [...] In the beginning, the kind of people that were climbing when I started climbing, it wasn’t separable, the two were inseparable. Everyone that I knew that climbed, even if they had full-time jobs were committed to living in their car and doing that whole thing. So for me, it was like this whole great package that I got to walk into, you know. I don’t think that’s the case now. So for me, they were indistinguishable, that was what climbing was when I first started, to me. That’s what I was exposed to. So it was like, if you wanted to be taken seriously as a climber you need to take climbing seriously, and that usually involved living in a mobile way so that you can follow the season and then make tons of sacrifices for it.

The significance of a sense of community is a sentiment expressed by all

lifestyle climbers in this study. More specifically, the longer one has spent traveling

and rock climbing full-time the more s/he emphasized the importance of community.

Wang’s (1999) application of existential authenticity to travel experiences suggests

one dimension of authenticity results from interpersonal experiences is the formation

of communitas. He argues that tourists “are not merely searching for authenticity of

the Other [but] also search for the authenticity of, and between, themselves” (1999,

p. 364). As a result, he suggests tourists form communitas, similar to what Turner

observed among pilgrims. Turner (1973) theorized pilgrim communitas as

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spontaneously generated, temporary communities in which individuals, stripped of

socio-economic attributes are treated as equals and joined by common belief and

purpose. Lifestyle climbers illustrate some aspects of communitas, but the fact that

they are a subculture of the larger rock climbing community suggests that this is not

a spontaneous happening but one informed by hierarchy and perceptions of cultural

difference in terms of rock climbers versus non-climbers, as well as within the

climbing community (see Williams & Donnelly, 1985; Stebbens, 1997; Kiewa, 2002;

Cailly, 2006), especially in terms of the centrality of rock climbing in one’s life. As

Ness (2011, p. 78) notes, however, “the climbing community is not governed by any

single official organization [...] [but it] defines itself primarily through informal, regular

acts of performance and exchange.” In what follows, several examples of informal,

yet regular performances of community and subculture are highlighted.

Lifestyle climbers are the most dedicated to the sport, however, the majority

of the rock climbing community are leisure climbers who venture outdoors only on

the weekends and during vacations. And this segment of the community is growing.

This creates a very different perspective on the sport and therefore can result in

tension among the community and its subcultures. Cohen (1985, p. 34) suggests

egalitarianism is a myth of community life, “every community generates

multitudinous means of making evaluative distinctions among its members”. So while

Kevin describes rock climbing as “what dictates the pace of my life” and Carl notes

the importance of “taking climbing seriously”, such deep-seated sentiments are rare

among leisure climbers and this perception of dedication and sacrifice are points of

division. Although that is not to say that leisure climbers do not have profound

experiences while climbing, in fact the vast majority of climbers regardless of their

dedication describe being motivated to engage in the sport because of the intense

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experience they gain from the act of rock climbing. However, few leisure climbers

make the transition to pursuing the sport full-time. Therefore, lifestyle climbers

express a feeling of disconnect with many leisure climbers. Jack explained,

Most people here have jobs, have houses, have normal lives. They’re more weekend warriors, even though maybe they’re doing it for a month. [...] There’s a very tight community within this place, it’s overwhelmed by them, there’s a tight community inside the big community, you know what I mean.

Indeed, Miguel Ventura has expanded his accommodations several times

over since the opening of his pizza shop, from just a handful of parking spots in the

late 1980s to a large parking lot that can now hold over 100 vehicles with adjoining

campgrounds that can accommodate about 150 tents. While Miguel’s Pizza only

reaches its full capacity a few weekends of the year, the overall size of the climbing

community has grown and within that smaller subcultures form, as Jack described.

Nearly all lifestyle climbers lament this growth and increased popularity of The Red,

particularly because of the loss of a community feel. Kevin, like Carl above,

describes feelings of a loss of community.

For a lot people getting into it now, it’s not about the community. It’s more and more like the climbing community is not as personal. So the times I’m always going to remember are sitting around with one other to half dozen other people around a campground that are all there because you want to be there. It’s the shitty days where it’s rained all day, everything you own is wet, it’s the worst possible scenario for dirtbagging, but you’re all there together and there’s no place else you’d rather be. I felt like that at a specific time living at The Red, I was around a lot of folks who were like that. That’s what I miss now, it’s not there so much and that’s what I’m trying to come to terms with, countless nights.

Along with trying to meet the needs of a growing clientele Miguel has

expanded his accommodations, but also the amenities. In the mid-2000s he made

Wi-Fi available. The vast majority of climbers use this service and appreciate it for

their own needs, in fact, several lifestyle climbers have Internet-based jobs that

support their full-time climbing and travel. Nevertheless, they also point to it as a

reason the community feels less cohesive and social. Everyday at least one

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individual, but usually several, were observed using a laptop in the pizzeria, in the

basement social space, or at the outdoor picnic tables (Figure 9).

Figure 9 - Climber on computer at Miguel's Pizza. Photograph by Bryan Boyd, used with permission.

Stebbens (1997) suggests lifestyle is best observed in everyday actions. This

rather mundane aspect of everyday life – using a laptop – denotes significant

differences in the lifestyle manifestations of these highly dedicated climbers. In fact,

Miguel himself, despite the pride of watching his business grow, also noted a

diminishing sense of community with the increased use of telecommunications.

Now it’s more like they’re in front of their computers all day. They don’t even talk to each other anymore. Yeah, I don’t think there is a social life here anymore. They

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have a life somewhere else, in like Colorado they’re keeping up with. They’re not really here.

Thus Mike proposed creating an “unplugged” night once a week,

It was nice when the fire pit was out here, everyone had to walk by the fire and a bunch of people. You had to hang out. [...] I’m guilty as charged as well. I’ve spent a couple of nights, friends are out, hanging around, and I’m geeking out on the computer. It would be nice if we could shut the Internet off a couple nights a week. That'd be ok with me.

Among the most contentious topics, however, is the issue of commodification

of the sport. Outdoor and adventure sports are rapidly growing in popularity (Palmer,

2002; Varley, 2006) and rock climbing is no exception. New climbers are introduced

to the sport through television, film, and online media, and the growth of the climbing

gym market, in particular, offers a way to experience the sport close to home. Taylor

(2010) states the number of active indoor climbers rose from just about 150,000 in

1990 to 7.6 million by 2004. Yet, one of the most frequently noted observations by

lifestyle climbers is the increasing numbers of people climbing outdoors. The Red

River Gorge, however, may experience this influx of climbers at a greater rate than

some other destinations, as its reputation as one of the best sport climbing areas in

the world is spreading rapidly. Indeed, the number of climbing magazines featuring

The Red has increased tremendously over the last decade. As a result, Kevin

describes some of his negative experiences and the changing dynamics of the larger

rock climbing community, which result in greater feelings of subcultural separation

and isolation.

The climbing community is always going to be in a constant state of flux, it’s always changing. The biggest thing I see right now is just sheer numbers; there’s just more people accessing climbing in every way imaginable. The gyms are more crowded, the boulders are crowded, the mountains are crowded, the crags are more crowded, period. [...] Busy weekends it used to be everybody just camped at Miguel’s, now they’re spreading out [...] and all the cabins are booked. It’s less personal, which just comes with numbers. [...] There’s just not enough time to educate the masses. It’s just not going to happen. So you have people, when you see folks doing things unsafe the community tends to turn their eyes and leave, as opposed to approaching that person and helping. A big part of that is climbers are more and more entitled too, they have more information at their fingertips, they can learn in the

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gym, they learn in a book, they can YouTube how to belay with a Gri-gri 5000 or whatever. They feel like they know how to do it, and so most of the climbers I feel like I approach come off as a little more defensive than they used to be. [...] Folks want to use the area, but they don’t want to give anything back. And these are all just classic clichés, but it just comes from the numbers.

Carl observes similar changes and relates this to the greater popularity of the sport

in popular media.

The more mainstream climbing gets, the more gyms open, which I don’t think the climbing gyms are that big of an issue. I worked at climbing gyms for a long time. [...] I feel like there’s an industry pushing climbing into the mainstream. They’re pushing their athletes to be very mainstream and they’re also kind of building these images of these athletes around how difficult they climb, which to me is really a bad way to go about it, because it becomes more of a popularity contest. [...] So I think just like any other mainstream sport, once you create these images of these athletes in all sponsored-out gear, doing the hardest thing, rolling around like rock stars. [...] I think that is why there’s so many people climbing these days, and there’s so many people climbing who don’t have a basic understanding of basic climbing skills, like belaying, you know, basic gear, just very basic things. You know what I mean. I think also, it just makes everything so available, so accessible. With the click of a button, you can find out who is doing what, read a blog, do this, do that [...] I think also, when the industry puts people up on a pedestal who are climbing really hard, I think it creates tension between the general, whole, collective climbing community. Because then it’s just always to measure up to, or not feel good enough, or want to get up to this certain point.

Cohen (1985) contends that “inevitable conformity” is another myth in the

analysis of community life, so that the overemphasis of structure, form, or

appearance of a community can neglect the substance or meaning of behavior. The

rock climbing community, in general, is informed by various motivations and

experiences. These climbers pointed out a particularly strong source of community

change – popular media. Not only do commodification and increased accessibility

introduce climbing to a new market of consumers, in doing so they also change

community dynamics. As Kevin described, the information available at one’s

fingertips, particularly in regards to climbing gear and technique, has reduced the

need for the dissemination of information within the community. As a result, he has

found it to be a more confrontational experience when approaching another climber

over an issue of ethics or etiquette. The reduced access to climbing through

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established community networks suggests individuals have become more defensive

in their interactions, which leads to further subcultural isolation.

And Carl pointed to a change in attitude among newer climbers who engage

with representations of climbing in popular media as a “popularity contest”. Wheaton

and Beal (2003) also found in their study of subcultural media that novice and

intermediate participants are more likely to utilize media to inform their cultural

capital, whereas as the more senior participants are more critical of these

representations.

Many lifestyle climbers struggle with these issues, not only is their community

changing, they also express feelings of guilt for being a part of this process. Most

lifestyle climbers work odd jobs as they travel and many find temporary work as

guides for outdoor recreation companies, creating a personal dilemma as they are a

part of the increased access to climbing, yet they also have the opportunity to

educate these new climbers. Kevin explains,

There’s a moral dilemmas in it for me. At one point I was pretty sure I wanted to be a career guide. I like working with people. I like taking people climbing. I like showing people climbing. [...] But I also think climbing is being accessed by too many people [...] I think the number one reason why more people are doing it is that it’s more accessible. I’m definitely a big part of making climbing more accessible in the Red River Gorge. It’s hypocritical; I know it and I comment it on it on a regular basis. But right now it’s the simplest way for me to make a living and stay sane. I don’t mind doing it, a lot of times just have to look the other way and ignore the other side of what I know I may or may not be doing to The Gorge. Then I have my ways of justifying too. Saying, you know, a lot of these folks are going to get into climbing no matter what, so at least if I can see them even for a few hours, hopefully get some non-biased information across and help them be safe and contribute to the community even, maybe, at the very least be less of a liability to the community. So I justify it that way a lot. At the same rate, I probably take 50 kids a year rock climbing who wouldn’t go rock climbing if there wasn’t our guide service.

Likewise, Rick who works as an outdoor recreation industry representative

depends financially on the climbing community. So while a growing industry helps to

keep his job secure, he has mixed feelings about the larger crowds he encounters at

his favorite destinations. He depends financially on the commodification of rock

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climbing, yet does not participate in its consumption in this respect. Moreover, he

sees a distinct difference between himself and outdoor recreation consumers.

It’s their dream to be a dirtbag. Some people are like, ‘I’m saving up. Yeah, I’m going to take four months off and dirtbag it four months.’ And that’s their vacation. [...] [But] I’m not on vacation; I’m actually working.

With this declaration, he expresses a sentiment of many lifestyle climbers, a feeling

of misperception about their general lifestyle – a distinction between being on

vacation because they travel full-time and living minimally so that they can continue

to travel. More specifically, when Rick notes that he is “actually working”, he is not

referring to traveling as a sales representative but to rock climbing every day

possible, training, and staying focused on his climbing goals. This is similar to the

findings of Filho’s (2010) analysis regarding the leisure/work relationship of lifestyle

rafting guides in New Zealand for whom work and leisure are not separate but one

and the same, and furthermore inform their subcultural identity. Thus, lifestyle

climbers make a concerted effort to distinguish themselves from the general climbing

community.

Cohen (1985, p. 44) asserts, “as the structural bases of [a community]

boundary become blurred, so the symbolic bases are strengthened.” In other words,

lifestyle climbers employ a number of discursive, symbolic, and performative tactics

to distinguish themselves within the larger rock climbing community. While

observations of the climbing community in eastern Kentucky did reveal social

divisions, it was only after a considerable time at Miguel’s Pizza that they became

more apparent. As Kiewa (2002) notes, from the outside rock climbers may seem a

cohesive group, but internally the community has numerous rifts and subcultures,

from big wall climbers to boulders and weekend warriors to full-timers. Cohen (1985,

p. 74) explains, “In the public face, internal variety disappears or coalesces into a

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simple statement. In its private mode, differentiation, variety and complexity

proliferate.”

Figure 10 - Vans of lifestyle climbers, back corner of Miguel's Pizza parking lot. Photograph by author.

Within the climbing community these divisions are fluid, with individuals

finding common ground across a number of issues, as Kiewa (2002) summarizes, “if

the distinctions are blurred to insiders, from the outside they are quite invisible” (p.

150; see also Taylor, 2010). From the outside, they all look like “rock climbers” –

chalk dust on clothing, taped fingers and scraped hands, carrying packs weighed

down by gear – but inside the community divisions do exist. For example, the

lifestyle climbers who live out of their vehicles tend to park together at the back of

the parking lot, and similarly weekend climbers who travel together also camp

together (Figure 10). But this has as much to do with friends congregating as it does

with divisions materialized. More often lifestyle climbers employ avoidance tactics,

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and it takes time within the community to notice such actions. For example, it was

frequently observed that the full-timers would climb at less well-known areas on the

weekends and return to the more popular areas during the week when the crowds

subsided.

Such divisions in the rock climbing community, however, are more forthright

on the online forums of Rockclimbing.com where anonymity means individuals are

more likely to voice their opinions. Thus, this symbolic communication takes quite

literal forms on online forums (see Mautner, 2005; Altheide et al., 2008). Indeed,

perspectives on the role of dirtbags within the climbing community range from

derogatory remarks to outright praise. Several condemned the lifestyle as “over

romanticized”, as they argue that dirtbags do not fulfill their societal obligations as

“productive members of society”, and some even go so far as to equate a dirtbag

with a “parasite”. More substantive arguments, although less frequently discussed,

relate to issues of land access and the variety of climbing styles and lifestyles.

The dirtbag ideal was interesting and viable when there were only a handful of climbers and few land management policies. Perpetuating that lifestyle today only marginalizes our user group in the eyes of land managers and local communities. (T16P7)

Trying to perpetuate the dirtbag culture of of [sic] the past while ignoring the realities of today is irresponsible and only damages the perception of climbing to land users and local communities. (T16P9)

Overall what these climbers are attempting to address are the impacts of the

growth of the climbing community and, in particular, the effects of popular

conceptions of dirtbags on the acceptance of rock climbing in outdoor recreation

areas. They suggest that the common perception of lifestyle climbers as “dirtbags”,

while sometimes accurate and sometimes not, is of individuals who lie, cheat, and

steal in order to maintain a rock climbing-intense lifestyle. In doing so, some camp

illegally on privately owned land, preventing future access for climbers. Others cheat

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camping fees raising the rates, therefore, for everyone. And worse, some steal,

particularly food, which includes “dumpster diving”. However, the most noted is more

annoying than illegal – hovering around camping areas to “clean up” leftovers that

will be thrown away. While these techniques are frequently discussed on online

forums as successful “strategies”, for the most part they were not observed among

the lifestyle climbers at The Red. The most severe transgressions that were

observed included being late on monthly camping fees to Miguel’s Pizza and

hacking Wi-Fi at local motels and restaurants. Miguel Ventura’s greatest complaints

related to their frugal nature, which means they rarely buy pizza, but they also create

more trash than weekend campers.

I don’t mind the live-ins. I think they’re part of the personality. I just wish that they were more helpful. Participated more in the community and cleaning it up. That’s the only problem I ever have with them. I don’t care if they’re here all summer. But they need to participate, cause their two dollars [a day] doesn’t cover their mess.

While this research does not address perceptions of rock climbing or lifestyle

climbers from outside of the community, this line of inquiry suggests the great

disparity of interpretations of lifestyle climbing within the rock climbing community.

Communities are not uniform, but diverse. As such Cohen (1985, p. 20) explains,

‘the triumph of community is to so contain this variety that its inherent discordance

does not subvert the apparent coherence which is expressed by its boundaries.” As

a result, when a large, socially diverse community is threatened with change,

subcultural boundaries are elaborated, or “embellished”.

In an argument against dirtbagging, one online contributor wrote, “Being

thrifty and frugal is much more noble than leeching from society” (T34P87). This

climber is suggesting that dirtbagging is more akin to a leech or a parasite, only

taking from those around them and not supporting oneself. However, the lifestyle

climbers I observed were all extremely frugal and thrifty, and the ideal of being self-

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sufficient and living a minimalist lifestyle was most important. Jack explains some of

the different meanings of dirtbag:

What is a dirtbag?

Jack: I guess it would be, to sum it up in a few words, you could say, a climbing bum. Somebody whose goal is to live as cheap as possible, work as little as needed, so that you can climb as much as you can and travel as much as you can.

Have you ever considered yourself a dirtbag, or has anyone ever used that term with you?

Jack: I guess I wouldn’t consider myself that way. I think most other people would consider me that way before I consider myself.

Is that label a good or a bad thing?

Jack: I think it, like, displays some kind of like devotion or an extreme passion for what you do. But it also tends to mean, maybe, I’m lazy and I don’t want to do real things in the real world. It’s still being a bum.

Do you think it has different meanings within the rock climbing community and outside?

Jack: Yeah. I think that it’s, the term dirtbag in climbing, for the most part is, like, neutral or maybe like a positive thing or something you feel proud about. But I think that word in any other group of people or general population in the world would say that is kind of a derogatory.

This is perhaps the strongest argument made for the difference between lifestyle

climbers and leisure climbers. While frugality and a minimalist lifestyle are necessary

to maintain a constant pursuit of rock climbing, the intense passion for the sport is

the key factor of differentiation. As Rick argued, taking a few months to “dirtbag it”

may be someone’s idea of a vacation, but for full-time rock climbers, this is a

lifestyle, driven by a deep devotion to this sport, because, “they’ve seen it make a

change in their life” (Kevin).

So, just as lifestyle climbers lament misconceptions about what it means to

be a dirtbag and to live one’s life fully dedicated to rock climbing, they also work to

define who does not belong among this social group. In particular, inexperienced

climbers and those who are too competitive or place too much emphasis on

checking off the routes and destinations on their “tic list” are not included. For

example, novice climbers are teasingly referred to as “gumbies”. And, more

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specifically, “chuffers” are novice climbers who take excessive unrecognized risks,

putting themselves and others in danger in an effort to display their climbing skills.

Both are repeatedly made the punch lines of jokes and comical stories. This is most

common following a busy weekend and was most prominent following

Rocktoberfest. Such events bring a relatively large number of inexperienced

climbers to the region and therefore result in more encounters and potentially

dangerous situations. While stories about poor climbing ability and belaying

technique were told for several weeks following Rocktoberfest, more so were the

jokes. Particular favorites included the misuse of climbing jargon and slang terms.

For example, while route grades, such as 5.10 are pronounced “five ten”, several

lifestyle climbers compared the not so uncommon occurrences of hearing

pronunciations of 5.9 as “five point nine” and 5.13 as “five point one three” among

novice climbers. This illustrates Cohen’s (1985) “symbolic reversal” of boundaries

within a community. Community boundaries are relational, not absolute. The

parameters that define a community to outsiders can be turned inward to distinguish

subcultural divisions.

Likewise jokes were made regarding inexperienced climbers’ knowledge in

terms of the difficulty of route grades. One story involved meeting a group of first

time outdoor climbers who explained they wanted to try some 5.9s but the wall was

full, so they attempted a 5.13. An experience they described with surprise as, “really

hard”. This was a source of teasing at the social gathering of the evening because

5.13 is on the far end of the difficulty spectrum of ratings in rock climbing. Most

lifestyle climbers, because of their full-time dedication to the sport, climb at these

most advanced levels.

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In another story, climbers told of the events witnessed during Rocktoberfest

weekend, in which a climbing pair could have been very seriously, or even fatally,

injured. The boyfriend was belaying his girlfriend while she was climbing. She took a

sudden fall and the boyfriend’s poor belaying skills resulted in a slow reaction and

his girlfriend landing on her back on the ground. She luckily walked away from the

accident with only soreness and a couple of bruises, but she could have easily

broken her back or other bones. This incident was the source of mocking, not only

because his poor skills were so dangerous but even more was his reaction – a

complete lack of worry, indicating his lack of knowledge about rock climbing and its

risks. Following her fall he made jokes about the possibly of others witnessing

another “shock fall”. This phrase is not used in rock climbing jargon and so many

jokes were made as to what a “shock fall” could possibly mean.

The rock climbing community is large and incredibly diverse, thus there are

efforts by lifestyle climbers and leisure climbers alike to distinguish among

themselves at the rock face, as well as online. This is done by labeling and mocking

as a way of “othering”. Moreover, actions, particularly avoidance tactics create

spatial separation at the crag and in the campgrounds (see also Cailly, 2006).

What’s more, lifestyle climbers also differentiate within their subculture through

perceptions of dedication and experience.

Subcultural divisions

While a “community may lack formal structures or leadership […] it will have

means of attributing status and prestige”, argues Cohen (1985, p. 33). Lifestyle

climbers further distinguish among themselves using a number of parameters, most

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notably commitment to rock climbing and the lifestyle, travel and climbing

experience, and proficiency, among others. Taylor (2010) explains,

Part of why climbers climbed, even in Yosemite, was to mark themselves via some astonishingly bourgeois principles. And therein lay a paradox. The entire development of American sport was a ‘quest for subcommunities.’ Climbing drew some athletes for the same reason baseball, bicycling, fly fishing, and surfing drew others, and complex social systems emerged in each sport. Dirtbags were one manifestation of a ‘climbing lifestyle’ with its own hierarchies. (p. 202)

The amount of time one has spent living on the road is a frequently

mentioned characteristic that exhibits not only one’s level of experience and

proficiency but, more importantly, one’s degree of dedication. In attempts to estimate

the size of the population of lifestyle climbers, I would ask individuals about their

observations of the community. Despite the large disparity in estimates, from 100 to

over 1000, in each instance individuals would indicate distinct parameters. The

following conversation between two lifestyle climbers illustrates this:

How many people do you think are doing this, traveling and climbing full-time?

Jack: I have no idea. Maybe, full-on, in the van, 24/7, I would say 200-500 people. I would be way surprised if it was less than 200 or 250 and I’d be really surprised if it was over 500. I know that’s probably a broad range. It’s hard to tell, there’s a lot of people that you meet and you just don’t know.

Jack to Byron: How many do you know who are hardcore vanners?

Byron: I don’t know. Used to be the standard.

Used to be?

Byron: I mean a long time ago you probably could sit down and like figure it out, and be like well, [acting like he is counting on his fingers] you know what I mean, there would have been like 50 guys or something. But I would think for real deal, 24/7 in the van, I was guessing maybe a couple hundred or 250.

Jack: Yeah, maybe full-time in the van, that’s probably a better estimate. It’s hard to get a census of something like that. Who hasn’t had a residence in fucking five years and are climbers?

Carl indicated more specific examples of the difficulty of determining who can

be considered a dirtbag, as well as the subcultural dynamics that vary from person to

person, along with personal prejudices.

I could name off the people that to me are actually doing it, probably on two hands. [...] but I don’t know, I have such a limited perspective. I’m sure there are tons, maybe a thousand, or something like that. It’s also hard to, like, see that van with

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Petzl [a popular climbing brand] sticker over there. Is that dude living in his car? How long has he been living in his car? You know what I mean. So I don’t know, it gets into some personal history [...] I would say if you’re from Colorado and spend most of your time climbing in Colorado, you automatically exclude yourself from that circle, but I have some prejudice to people from Colorado. I would think that no one from Ohio is really doing that, at least in my experience here. I don’t know, it’s hard to say, I feel like it’s a, you kind of have to have established yourself for quite some time to be considered in that group. There’s probably like 20 people here at The Red now living in their car, [but] they’ve only been climbing two or three years. For me they wouldn’t fall into that category. Who knows? I feel it’s super easy to stay psyched for the first couple years you’re climbing because you get good so quick. But then the lifers come out. Once you’ve been in it long enough, to be like ‘oh, I haven’t sent anything in like a year and I’m still doing it.’ Once you hit that three or four-year plateau, if you can commit and still do it through that, maybe you belong in that group.

Thus, for Carl, among the most important variables for inclusion in this

subculture is the amount of time one has been traveling and climbing, with the longer

time span signifying a greater degree of commitment and the “lifers” being most

dedicated. This echoes his sentiments in regard to divisions within the larger

climbing community when he began dirtbagging, and those ideals which have

framed his perspectives since – “if you wanted to be taken seriously as a climber you

need to take climbing seriously”. This subcultural contestation is not new among

dirtbags. Taylor (2010, p. 217) observes, “[s]oon, dirtbags of the 1970s would grouse

about dirtbags of the 1990s.” Or as Cohen (1985, p. 91) suggests, the community

“form can persist while the content undergoes significant transformation.” For

example, Carl’s first introduction to lifestyle climbers came in the 1990s and he

describes significant changes in the collective identity since that period. Each new

generation brings new perspectives, in particular the perceived necessities and limits

of a minimalist lifestyle. So while climbers are concerned about commodification

changing the sport, as a whole, they point to affluence and an increased standard of

living as most responsible for the changes among this subculture. In fact, several

lifestyle climbers, when asked, “What is a dirtbag?”, answered that dirtbags do not

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exist anymore. Rick’s response was common among the more veteran lifestyle

climbers. Yet, he, nevertheless, does identify himself as a dirtbag.

I think dirtbags are dead. I don’t think they exist anymore. To be honest with you, I haven’t eaten out of a dumpster lately. I ate out of a dumpster in like 96 or 97 in Squamish [British Columbia] cause I really had no money. I don’t think it exists anymore. I think there’s opportunities and there’s ways to make money in the sport.

This suggests the cultural capital of the “dirtbag” as an identity is changing

among the rock climbing community. Whereas dirtbagging was originally an

individual and highly exclusive identity, characterized by a strong dedication to both

rock climbing and a life on the road, it grew in popularity in the 1980s and 90s

signifying a collective, highly social community that maintains close connections

despite its mobility (Taylor, 2010). Increasing global communications technology

facilitates these changes, which are also illustrated by the growing presence of self-

identified dirtbags on online community forums, such as Rockclimbing.com, as well

as an increase in the number personal weblogs. Yet, mobile lifestyles have become

easier, requiring less self-sufficiency, risk, and sacrifice. In fact, mobility is

commonplace for many in the developed, and developing, worlds. This is echoed in

Iurato’s (2008) Urban Climber article, “The Death of the Dirtbag”, in which the author

writes,

There was a time when living like a dirtbag was the only way for a climber. […] Day in and day out they mastered moving over stone using all that was available to them, which wasn’t much at all. It’s not like that anymore. Today, thanks in part to the efforts of those very same dirtbagging lifers, the rest of us can push the boundaries of what’s possible with more than just the bare essentials […] It goes to show that it’s more fun to go with the right tools than to go without, especially in a sport where safety is the first concern. In a sense, the creations of the one-time dirtbaggers are pushing dirtbaggerkind to extinction. (p. 16-17)

Kevin, who also identifies as a dirtbag, draws similar conclusions, with

particular notice of rising standards of living and the greater availability of

telecommunications:

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There are no more dirtbags. We are on the cusp [...] There’s no tarp setups at Miguel’s anymore, there’s only airport shuttle buses and RVs. The folks who have been living there for a while, that’s what their living in, right or wrong, it’s just changing. That’s not just the specific crew at The Red, I don’t think, that’s everybody. Rifle, [Colorado] these past few weeks, it’s all vans, it’s RVs, it’s that sort stuff. Living out of your cheap station wagon and the tent just doesn’t, it’s not happening. It’s all moving up in the standard of living. So maybe, by my definition of dirtbag, that I said climbing is dictating your pace of life, so by that definition, that doesn’t negate them as being dirtbags, the definition’s just evolving and is changing. There’s less sitting around the campfire and talking about climbing and having a good time and there’s more time with your nose buried in your MacBook Pro trying to scam the nearest wireless.

The prevalence of laptops, smartphones and use of social media is highly

contested in this subculture, just as it is within the larger rock climbing community.

As discussed above, the increased use of laptops, in particular, has been pointed

out as both reason for and symptom of a less personal sense of community. So

while their use is increasing, it is despised by some. These global technologies help

to maintain communication among this community, as well as make life on the road

easier through navigation and map services, and many of the more recent lifestyle

climbers have Internet-based jobs that support their full-time travel. However, for

older generations of lifestyle climbers the use of laptops, smartphones, and social

media also indicate social dependency and a lack of self-sufficiency and dedication.

Dirtbags of the 1960s, 70s, and 80s experienced a much greater degree of isolation,

and even alienation, from society as well as the climbing community (Taylor, 2010).

Kevin, who has been dirtbagging for 10 years, observed,

It used to be you didn’t need to keep in touch. ‘I’ll see you, when I see you, man.’ [...] But now, to be honest, as lame as it is, this Facebook phenomenon is a wonderful thing. It consolidates everything right there.

Observations of this subculture revealed that everyone had some form of

telecommunications technology; a few had just the minimum of a basic cellphone

(phone, texting, and voicemail services only), while many had smartphones and/or a

laptop. Several lifestyle climbers maintain a high-end laptop from which they perform

Internet-based jobs, including a writer, a copyeditor, a webpage designer, a graphic

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designer, a photographer, and a sales representative. Moreover, the use of such

technologies corresponds with the number of years one has been dirtbagging, as the

younger lifestyle climbers use their laptops and smartphones with greater frequency.

In fact, whereas Jack has been traveling and climbing for six years, he explained

purchasing his first cellphone only three years ago, yet Heather who has been living

this lifestyle for two years, has both an iPhone and MacBook Pro from which she

works as a webpage designer. This suggests the overall changes to this subculture,

as the newer members enter the community more accustomed to the comforts of

global communications technologies and the wide-availability of internet services

their use will grow and will likely become more accepted necessities of this

minimalist lifestyle. So while the lifestyle climber “form” continues, its “content” is

ever-evolving and its symbolic boundaries within the rock climbing community

remain as they are relational to leisure climbers, not absolute (see Cohen, 1985).

In choosing the climbing lifestyle, dirtbags are not just saying something

about themselves as individuals, but they are placing themselves in an historical

lineage of rock climbers. So while there is a strong, common goal to climb better and

experience more difficult routes, there is also a hierarchy, informed by notions of

dedication, level of experience, and climbing ability. Dedication, as discussed above,

is measured in years of full-time rock climbing. Climbing experience is judged by

both the number of years one has been active in the sport and the amount of travel

one has undertaken, resulting in knowledge of a number of climbing destinations and

practice with a variety of rock types. An extensive travel repertoire is, therefore,

respected among the community. As such, lifestyle climbers have intense

discussions of where to spend the next season, during which they plan out potential

travel routes. Moreover, many identify personal circuits of frequented climbing

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destinations, as discussed above. Because these climbers meet up with friends from

across the U.S. at various locations, their sense of community is strengthened.

Elouise describes,

I've been running in to the same people traveling in the same circuit.

Similarly, Jack told a story of literally running into someone he knew in France.

I walked out of a bathroom in a campground in France and literally bumped into this dude. I was like, ‘oh sorry’ and looked up and it was like some guy from Canada and I was like ‘I know you man’, and he’s like ‘yeah, you lived in The Red’. So yeah, climbing’s becoming huge, but the people that are kind of monkeys and do it full-time and travel a lot, those people you’re going to see and recognize.

While the majority does travel throughout the year, spending only a few

weeks to months in one location, a minority of lifestyle climbers travels less

frequently. In The Red, for example, only a couple of climbers will spend the entire

year in the region, taking maybe one or two short trips in the most inclement winter

and summer months. This is possible in eastern Kentucky. While the winters are

cold, with frequent snow and ice, and summers can be very hot and humid, climbing

is still possible. However, the majority of lifestyle climbers not only enjoys the

traveling aspect of this lifestyle but finds it necessary, mentally and physically.

I think that’s what makes it fun, going other places, being humbled on different things you’re not used to and trying different climbing. (Mike)

I used to say [travel is] one of the most important aspects. I guess it depends which term were focused more on, the dirtbag or the climbing end of it. I think you can definitely be in The Red here and there’s locals who don’t seem too psyched to move around that much. They really like this area and there’s nothing wrong with that sense of almost loyalty to your home area, that pride in your home destination. I think you can have the travel while still having the pride with the home area, but to me it was really important to be a traveling rock climber. I wanted to go as many areas as I can. It’s still what drives me the most. I want to get out there, see as many new areas, new rock, new people. People go about their climbing differently and it makes you a better rock climber. That’s important to me. But I think most dirtbags need to travel, too. It keeps you sane. If you are literally living in a campground, in the same place for months and months and months out of the year; it starts to drive you nuts. But it is good to post up in an area. If you really want to get to know an area and climb at that area well, you need to spend the time there. You can’t get that in a couple of weeks. You haven’t even learned the medium yet. But then the community gets stronger if you spend more time in an area. You’ve been there three months, six months, here at The Red a lot of people spend nine months out of the year here, leave for the winter and come back and do it nine months again. You start to see those folks, then you get the community. So I think it’s a balance between

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staying sane, which is facilitated by the traveling, but still having the sense of your home area too. (Kevin)

While many noted their love for rock climbing is a result of its personal,

individual nature, in which one is not on a team and does not compete with others,

the climbing abilities and accomplishments of fellow climbers do act as motivators to

stay fit and as inspiration to push one’s limits (see also Williams & Donnelly, 1985).

So, for those who have been climbing full-time, they explained that it is important to

learn how to deal with feelings of competitiveness.

For me, [rock climbing is] probably everything, except competitive against another human being. For me, that kind of kills it. [...] I get more psyched to see someone send something that I do, than to send it myself. I am super psyched to see someone else, and that’s just like part of the experience. That’s what part of a climbing day is, especially with sport climbing, you’re climbing with more than one person. It’s nice to see, I don’t get tweaked really when people crush my project. I’ve been climbing long enough to have that happen so many times, that it’s just like, it doesn’t come to a surprise when a ten year old girl flashes my problem, at all. I’m pretty used to it by now. [...] But it’s never competitive. Not that I don’t have those feelings of like, ‘oh, I wish, like, whatever ... he’s doing better than me today’, but I've been climbing long enough to know where that road leads. And it just makes climbing sour to me, so I just don’t pay those thoughts too much attention and don’t act on them really. (Carl)

Diana, likewise, draws distinct lines of friendship when competition and

rankings come into the sport.

If people need to rate me based on my climbing ability, then I don’t really want to be friends with them anyway. [...] Certain people are climbing for certain reasons, like climbing for numbers and for that kind of recognition. That’s not what we're in it for. We're generally not going to be hanging around with them people. [...] In this community it just creates these levels, so it’s never really one consistent feeling. You’re not enjoying it at that point, you’re just trying to put a little check mark next to a number.

Therefore, those who do get competitive or are self-depreciating for not

reaching their goals for the season tend to be teased. For example, when Elizabeth

flashed a route Mike had been working on all summer, he got so frustrated that he

left the crag and would not talk to anyone for a couple of days. While this frustration

was directed more at himself than anyone, he still became the butt of jokes around

Miguel’s Pizza. Overall, the community of lifestyle climbers is intolerant of

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competitiveness, but even worse is when climbers “spray”, or brag, about their

accomplishments.

Despite emphasis by lifestyle climbers that climbing should not be

competitive, most maintain 8a memberships that track their progress. 8a.nu is a

website with an international member base of more than 40,000 climbers who use it

as a scorecard/log book. It is a Europe-based website named for the French grading

system in which 8a was once the toughest grade climbed (equivalent to 5.13b in the

YDS). While 8a was one of the first and most popular websites that allowed climbers

to track their progress, others have also emerged, including such a function on

Rockclimbing.com, Mountainproject.com, and more recently Sendage.com which

also has a social media component, as it links into Facebook and Twitter accounts.

Yet, these websites function as more than log books by adding, and sometimes,

encouraging competition by assigning points to specific routes and the manner in

which one ascends them (on-sight, flash, redpoint). These websites make it appear

as though the top climbers are continually vying for first place, which may or may not

be the case in terms of individuals’ climbing motivations.

So while lifestyle climbers interviewed lamented competition, in fact many

mentioned their frustration with websites like 8a specifically, many also maintain their

membership and update their logbook on such websites. What makes these sites

particularly contentious, however, is the inaccuracy of some personal profiles. One

conversation, for example, focused on a climber who had watched a route being

climbed, then attempted it herself while also receiving “beta” (information about the

route and individual holds) as she climbed it. Yet, she recorded this as an “on-sight”,

which receives the greatest number of points, when in fact she “flashed” the route.

As a result she moved up in the 8a rankings, inciting frustration for those who had

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witnessed the climb and the resulting change in positions on 8a. They saw this a

misrepresentation of a rather difficult climb, and therefore a lack of respect for the

climbing experience and rock climbing community.

Lifestyle climbers repeatedly expressed the individual nature of climbing.

While the community is important and one does need a climbing partner, climbing is

first and foremost a personal endeavor in which one only really competes with

oneself. For Rick, the only real competition is between himself and gravity.

It’s a pursuit of something that’s extremely personal. It’s something that, it’s very, very ... I can’t really explain it in terms of words. ... whether you’re climbing 5.9 trad climbs or your going after the top, hardest sport routes in the world, I think it’s something that's extremely personal. And I think the top climbers in the world, the people who excel at this the most are people who have actually forgotten about chasing grades [...] But I do think, even if you’re not competing against your next-door neighbor, or the guy beside you, I think you’re still competing against clipping the anchor; you’re competing against the final goal, right. [...] I think we have a competition between gravity – our asses and the ground all-day, everyday.

That is not to say lifestyle climbers are not aware of their progress, especially with

websites like 8a. In fact, many expressed frequently assessing their abilities and

questioning if the time and dedication they put into rock climbing, as opposed to

other opportunities, are worth it. Allen, for example, describes both the social

pressure of success and, inversely, the climbing community. While he wants tangible

measures of experiences in order to relate to his partner and family, his lists of

projects are a source of teasing by other climbers.

I take a lot of flack from a lot of people about being motivated to send things and being motivated to finish projects. But this whole thing, this traveling lifestyle came to be because I started going outside [of the climbing gym] more and getting exciting about certain climbs or certain projects, nationally and internationally, and made it a number one priority to get to them to try to finish them. So my whole thing is I’m traveling around trying to do something. My dad owns a successful business and my girlfriend is a PhD student so they both have ways of measuring their successes, financially or academically. My whole thing is if I can measure the amount of fun I’m having by the amount of things I’m actually completing, it’s almost like it’s not a waste. It’s almost a way to show other people, like look at this, this is sweet. I know it’s not really cool in this community, but I think it’s fucking rad. I like having lists and finishing lists, it motivates me. I’m goal oriented.

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While these more individual motivations and experiences are discussed more

below, in terms of subcultural dynamics it was observed that competition should be

kept within oneself. When it surfaces, as competitiveness against others or flaunting

one’s accomplishments, individuals are singled out, and usually teased, as a way of

expressing dislike and lack of acceptance of this behavior. These feelings are

inherently there for all climbers, but as Carl expressed, one must learn to deal with

them constructively, for personal, mental well-being and the cohesiveness of the

community.

Mechanisms of community cohesion – communication, practices, and rituals

Lifestyle, Stebbens (1997, p. 350) contends, is “a distinctive set of shared

patterns of tangible behavior that is organized around a set of coherent interests or

social conditions or both, that is explained and justified by a set of related values,

attitudes, and orientations and that, under certain conditions, becomes the basis for

a separate, common social identity.” The rock climbers interviewed in this study have

made a lifestyle commitment to this sport and, as such, collectively share an attitude

and set of values for which rock climbing is central. So while they are all “climbers”,

generally, their lifestyle dedication informs their subcultural community identity.

Cohen (1985, p. 15) argues that community is, “the sense of a primacy of

belonging […]. It is the arena in which people acquire their most fundamental and

most substantial experience of social life outside of the confines of home.” Thus,

communities use a number of “symbolic devices” to establish and maintain the public

and private faces of its boundaries (Cohen, 1985). The strongest source of

community cohesion among lifestyle climbers is an intense dedication to rock

climbing. While nearly every climber, from novice to professional, describes a unique

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experience in the moments of ascent, lifestyle climbers express an even greater

appreciation for the sport. In fact, it guides the way they live their lives. As Heather

explains,

I think it’s sort of a lifestyle. I’m living behind a pizza shop in an RV, but if I didn’t climb I would NOT be here. There's no way. I would not live in a car, or RV, or tent in the backwoods of Kentucky. There’s no way, if I didn’t climb. I’m not just here because I love the lifestyle of, like, living in a campground.

And Kevin elaborates on these points,

I’d say a dirtbag is just someone who lets the act of the climbing dictate their life. [...] Someone who believes in rock climbing, it’s not something they’re doing recreationally. It is recreating, but it can be approached in a lot of different ways. And most of the dirtbags are out there because climbing means something to them, they believe in it and they believe it’s going to do something to them. I’d go a step further and say they don’t even believe in it because then that sounds sort of faith-based. They know it, they’ve seen it make a change in their life and they keep pursuing that. Somebody who is making their decisions based on rock climbing. They’re not here, if we are talking about The Red specifically, they’re not here for the social scene and they’re not here because of Miguel’s, they’re here for the climbing. And all that other stuff exists as a byproduct.

Varley’s (2011) study of sea kayakers finds that the liminoid experiences of

that sport form the basis for kayaking “neo-tribes” (Maffesoli, 1996), or what are

more akin to Dionysiac thiasos, he argues. “Ritualistic, emotional, ecstatic

communities (neo-tribes) are created as a response to the flatness of alienating and

disenchanting life” (Varley, 2011, p. 95). For lifestyle climbers, community is about

the climbing and the climbing experience. Carl explained that what bonds this

subculture of the rock climbing community is a “respect for other people's

experience, and for the specialness of what it can be out there sometimes.”

Because this high degree of reverence is upheld as of the greatest

importance for acceptance as a lifestyle climber, this community exhibits a great

variety of national and regional origins, political viewpoints, religious affiliations, and

education levels. That is, if one appreciates rock climbing enough to allow it to guide

their life choices and attitude, then they are accepted into the community. As Cailly’s

(2006) study of the “tribes” within the rock climbing community observes, this

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subculture is participatory-based and governed by informal hierarchical structures.

Cailly argues that such a rock climbing tribe,

uses very little symbolic violence, organises no rites of entry, and shows no desire to control borders or exclude others. The group subscribes more to a logic of participative integration, whereby it will welcome anyone who, in accordance with his [or her] own wishes, agrees to adhere to the values of the group (2006, p. 40).

And Wheaton (2004, p. 4) argues more generally that lifestyle sport subcultures are

“fundamentally about ‘doing it’, about taking part” and participating in the

appropriated subcultural spaces. While this study has observed some symbolic

boundaries, exclusionary actions, and territorialization practice, lifestyle climbers are

a rather open community. However, one must maintain a physical presence in the

community to exhibit these values and participate in community rituals. This is

particularly true where a minimalist lifestyle extends beyond a financial necessity to a

mechanism of community cohesion, as it brings the climbers following similar circuits

to the same campgrounds where they also organize their days of climbing and rest

together. Despite the fact that this is a highly mobile community in which individuals

may only see one another for a few weeks out the year, that time spent together is

important. Kevin describes the community cohesion that spans across destinations

and grows to include new lifestyle climbers,

Yeah, you see the same folks out there doing the same thing. Usually friendly with one another, and that’s usually your climbing partners, who you’re going to be psyched on. Living the similar lifestyle, anything from helping you fix your breaks […] to free dinners to rides.

In fact, Susan explains, farewells are rare among lifestyle climbers, as it is expected

that climbers will see each other again.

I guess, with dirtbags, when you say good-bye to each other, it doesn’t really mean anything. I’m used to saying goodbye and being like, ‘oh, big hug, we're never going to see each other again or it’s going to be so long’. And it never is. It ends up not being a really long time until you see each other again anyway, because you’re all in the same circuit. You’re all chasing the good weather or the country where the best, new, interesting climbing over the winter is. Yeah, nobody really, like, dwells on, like, the whole goodbye thing in this community, because everybody’s always around.

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You say goodbye to somebody, they're like I’m sure I’ll see you in the next year or so, whatever.

Although Kevin notes that the other climbers one meets are most likely to

become climbing partners while staying in an area, he does not elaborate on the

cautious process of assessing their ability and skill before undertaking a day of

climbing with a new partner. Among lifestyle climbers are some of the most guarded

and safety-oriented rock climbers. They place the most respect in proper technique.

Because a climber places their safety in the hands of their belayer, one’s expertise

with this technique is essential to safe climbing, especially when one is pushing

his/her limits. Therefore, it is not uncommon for members of this subculture to forego

a day of climbing if they do not feel assured of their potential partner’s abilities. This

is not to suggest that leisure climbers are more willing to take such risks, but as full-

time rock climbers with years of experience, they are more likely to fully understand

all of the potential risks and read the signs of poor technique that leisure or novice

climbers may miss. Thus, while all climbers put a great amount of trust in their

climbing partner, lifestyle climbers are aware of this on a day-to-day basis. And,

unfortunately, are more likely to have witnessed poor technique or lack of judgment

result in serious injury or death. Overall, the longer one has been traveling and rock

climbing, the more s/he expressed the importance of a sense of community and

deeply held trust, with some referring to their lifestyle climber friends as family. Carl

and Elouise described how this sense of community influences their choices of

climbing destinations:

So part of the reason I go to Hueco [Texas] every year is because I have people that I’ve known for a super long time that do the same thing. So it’s like a family reunion. That’s what I like about it, the climbing and the relationships that I’ve formed. I don’t know that many people who don’t climb, I mean, it’s my whole life. I’ve been climbing longer than I haven’t. I can’t imagine, you know, not doing it. It’s just like an integral thing for me. (Carl)

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I can't make a distinction between my life and climbing, I mean, it’s like all together. It’s been driving me all over the world. I don't know, it’s like a link, a bond with people as well because the climbing community is really tight, which is nice. (Elouise)

The factors of recurrent participation, trust, and family-like bonds suggest a

stronger community than the spontaneous and temporary communitas of pilgrimage

(Turner, 1973) or tourism (Wang, 1999). Lifestyle climbers describe lifelong

relationships, extending across generations. In fact, many explained that when they

began full-time rock climbing it was mentor-based. Mentorships not only pass down

knowledge, skills, etiquette, and ethics, but they are a form of entrance rite and

therefore strengthen community ties by establishing multiple levels of trust. These

climbers, in particular, elaborated on this community structure:

I definitely came from a climbing scenario where it was more mentorship-based. There was the stewards of climbers, there was the folks who were interested in taking the new climber under their wing, showing them the ropes, everybody's safe, and it all works out well and this knowledge trickles down. That’s just not the case now. (Kevin)

When I started climbing I was at The Red every waking second that I wasn’t at school. So it was nice. I liked the climbing community that I came into then, as far as like their ethics and their respect for other people's experience, and for the specialness of what it can be out there sometimes. So I felt super lucky to have like some pretty old school dudes to learn from. [...] The people were out there doing these amazing things and finding these amazing areas, and wanted no recognition whatsoever, went out of their way to not receive recognition and not make a big deal out of it. I thought that was really cool. Kind of what got me pretty hooked, was a combination of the climbing, the community and the time; the era of climbing then was awesome. It was more intimate, with the areas and with the people. (Carl)

Community rites and rituals confirm and strengthen social identity, and,

therefore, are “important means through which people experience community”

(Cohen, 1985, p. 50). While shared values, particularly a deep respect for climbing,

is the most important aspect of community cohesion, there are also a number of

rituals worth noting. While some may be banal, daily practices, others are more

symbolic. For example, almost all conversation revolves around rock climbing, from

reciting the moves of routes climbed and discussions of which routes to try next to

where to spend the next season and recently discovered areas to new gear, climbing

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videos, and magazines. There are regular discussions of which crags to climb at the

next day or two. These can sometimes be more negotiations than discussions, as

each climber is working to ascend their own project routes, usually at different crags.

One negotiation involved Elizabeth who was close to completing a route at the

Mother Lode and was excited to return for another lap, whereas Kevin wanted to get

on a route at The Dark Side. Neither wanted to compromise for the next day’s

destination. Several others wanted to climb as a group that day, but no one had a

particular preference between these crags. Eventually Carl asserted he would rather

climb at The Dark Side as well, so it was agreed that they would climb there the

following day and the Mother Lode later in the week. While this seems a rather anti-

climatic event, it is representative of the daily practices of negotiation in which it is

important that everyone gets to work on their own individual projects.

For those who have not made arrangements for the next day’s climbing,

mornings begin with a survey of Miguel’s (Figure 11). Questions of “where are you

climbing today?”, “what routes are you getting on today?”, and “mind if I tag along?”

can be heard across the campground and parking lot. A parallel series of

conversations take place in the evenings. Everyone returns to Miguel’s dirty, covered

in chalk dust, and with hands scraped and taped. Dinner is either ordered from the

pizzeria or prepared on camping stoves and trips to “the beer trailer” are made as

groups gather to discuss the day’s climbing. There are also special events for which

groups go out together, such as live music at one of the local establishments; for

example, on Tuesday evenings a local bluegrass band plays at The Hitchin’ Post, a

grocery and deli, and following late night parties groups will go to a favorite

restaurant – Bruen’s Café – for breakfast (Figure 12).

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Figure 11 - Packing for the day's climbing. Photograph by Bryan Boyd, used with permission.

\ Figure 12 – Local bluegrass music at The Hitchin' Post. Photograph by author.

(Climbers gathered near the band, local residents seated)

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There are regular rituals for inclement weather. If it is too hot, humid, rainy, or

cold climbers will carpool to the climbing gym in Lexington to spend the day.

Likewise, rest days are usually spent relaxing around Miguel’s, reading a book or the

latest climbing magazine, watching a movie on a laptop, sometimes going to the

local drive-in, or going “bushwhacking”, that is exploring new regions for potential

climbing. But, lifestyle climbers have strict budgets. Therefore, rest days, inclement

weather, and special occasions offer only limited options for recreation and leisure.

Because there is little to occupy one’s time when not climbing, these activities are

seen as simply ways to pass the time, rest, heal, or wait for the weather to improve

so that they can resume climbing. Thus, Kevin explains that after 10 years of

dirtbagging, finding other activities he enjoys has been essential to his mental well-

being, particularly in the times when he cannot climb.

So keep finding ways to keep yourself stimulated and challenged. You have to stay stimulated or you’ll just go crazy. [...] For me, for a while I was just so psyched to climb that there didn’t need to be anything else. I'd climb 30 days on, it didn’t matter, rain, sun, hot, whatever. That novelty has worn off a little bit, so now I need a little bit more. Just finding other things I’m psyched on other than climbing. Riding my bikes, riding on the road bike, that’s even kind of done with the weight management goals of climbing. But it just gives me other things to focus on. Just trying to stay healthy, train, take my climbing even more seriously, change how you’re going about your climbing, new styles of climbing. Always something new, getting outside the comfort zone. But primarily just having other things going on in your life, outside rock climbing to keep your mind off it. And that’s important for different people. Some people can think about nothing but rock climbing all the time. But that may change a few years down the road, after you’re in the game for a couple of years.

While these daily practices and rituals are a part of living the life of a full-time

rock climber, with a limited budget usually in a somewhat isolated location, there are

also rituals of greater symbolic value that are more rarely practiced. Nothing of this

caliber was witnessed during my time in the Red River Gorge; however, my long

time association with the community can be drawn on to provide an example,

supported by an investigation of the forums at Redriverclimbing.com. In 2008, two

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young lifestyle climbers died in a climbing accident in The Red. Ben Strohmeier and

Laura Fletcher were loved members of this community and as word spread of their

deaths, rumors also began to circulate as to the details of the accident. The following

message was posted on Redriverclimbing.com by Dario Ventura, son of Miguel

Ventura and respected in the local community.

climbers of the red, I hate to bring the news from miguels. The two passed at global village around monday. Ben left Miguels monday with Laura. Their plan was to climb white-out and lower to the ledge to climb " The Man Behind the Curtain". Tuesday afternoon Jordan and Kobes drove by the parking lot and realized Ben's car was still there. Worried for their friend, they hiked up to the wall. They found Ben and Laura dead at the base of the cliff. They quickly ran down and called 911. At the scene Ben had Laura on belay and she was tied in. Ben was farther down the hill than her. Today Dan and I rapped in from the top to discover what happened. It appears that they climbed "white-out" and then lowered to the ledge half way up the wall. This ledge is the belay for the 11a "Man behind the Curtain". From what we could tell, they decided not to climb it........there was no chalk.... The anchors on the ledge were two rusty bolts with webbing run through them. At the ledge we found the webbing was broken. On the ground we had found a rap ring with blood on it. They must have put the rope through the rap ring and started lowering Laura. The webbing broke, pulling Ben with her. There was no gear on the anchors, so we think he went in direct to the sling that he was lowering her with. The webbing was completely white. Where the webbing was against the bolt there was a faint color of its original color, dark purple. We assume they didn't notice the poor condition of the webbing. Please keep your opinions on what happened to your self.....this is what we think happened. a funeral has not been set.........thanks climbers. Dario Ventura

Following this post, the thread was locked by the website administrator, and a

new thread was started as a memorial to Ben and Laura where photographs, favorite

memories, and words of love and mourning were posted. A few days following the

accident, a gathering was held at the base of the crag, Ben’s family attended,

Miguel's Pizza was closed, and a memorial carving by Miguel was placed at the site.

A funeral donation fund was established on Redriverclimbing.com and at Miguel’s

Pizza to help support the families’ expenses. They received over $2000 in donations.

In a performance of both mourning and respect for the sport, the route from which

Ben and Laura fell was climbed in the weeks after the accident. Rather than ascribe

negative connotations to this space, it is a testament to the individual nature of this

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sport and the personal experience of climbing that this route was climbed. One

climber explained, “after something like that, yeah, the route must be climbed. It’s

important.” This ritual also signifies the strength of the community, remembrance of

Ben and Laura, and mourning of their loss by continuing to engage with the sport

that meant so much to them.

Within the community rituals of remembrance also included dividing up of

their gear so that everyone who cared for Ben and Laura could carry on a piece of

them, and so the gear that facilitated the sport they loved would continue to be used.

In fact, a pair of Ben’s shoes is still used by one of the climbers interviewed. Later

that year obituaries appeared in the magazine Rock & Ice written by their Red River

Gorge friends. More recently, in 2011, two memorial routes were established, named

simply Ben and Laura. The two routes are next to one another and join together at a

mid-way point. Their deaths were a particular shock to this community, but these

rituals of remembrance are performed, in variations, whenever the climbing

community experiences such a loss. These rituals reinforce group cohesion;

moreover, rituals are an important means of experiencing community (Cohen, 1985).

While this is a hypermobile and frequently dispersed community, such rituals and

objects of remembrance cohere lifestyle climbers (Stebbens, 1997).

While the rituals highlighted so far emphasize subcultural cohesion of lifestyle

climbers, there are also yearly rituals of community gathering that reinforce a more

general rock climber identity and The Red as a climbing place – Rocktoberfest, Red

River Reunion, and Johnny and Alex Trail Day. The Rocktoberfest celebration marks

the beginning of the optimal climbing season in The Red. Climbers come from

across the country and many lifestyle climbers stay for the fall season. This is the

largest event, as the number of sponsors on each of the posters illustrate (Figure

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13). Rocktoberfest requires registration (with fee) and includes gear vendors (with

discounts), live music, technique clinics (each with a separate nominal fee), and

competitions for prizes. Rocktoberfest attracts over 1000 climbers each year and

proceeds from the event benefit the Climbers’ Coalition.

Figure 13 - Rocktoberfest (2011) and Red River Reunion (2012) Posters

This event emphasizes the cohesion of the larger rock climbing community. In

the public spaces of Rocktoberfest, the internal divisions of the climbing community

are minimized, although they quickly resurface outside its boundaries and after the

event. Climbers of all styles and levels of experience and dedication attend. In fact,

there was a greater percentage of first year climbers observed at Rocktoberfest than

on any other weekend at Miguel’s Pizza. Thus, Wheaton and Beal (2003) suggest,

such events offer the opportunity for the accumulation of social capital that is most

appealing to novice participants.

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Miguel’s Pizza then closes in late November, opening again in late March.

The Red River Reunion celebrates the return of good climbing weather and the re-

opening of Miguel’s with a social gathering. This is a much smaller gathering and

rather informal, compared to Rocktoberfest, with several hundred, mostly regional

climbers and lifestyle climbers attending. While Rocktoberfest emphasizes the “rock

climber” identity more broadly, The Reunion narrows down this community to those

with local connections to The Red as place. Following The Reunion, it is then

common for large crowds to stay at Miguel’s through May, but as the humidity of

Appalachian summer sets in many travel west and fewer weekend warriors visit.

The Johnny and Alex Trail Day is quite different from Rocktoberfest and The

Reunion, as it is both a memorial event and focused on infrastructure management.

John Bronaugh is a legend in the Red River Gorge community. He published one of

the first climbing guidebooks to the region and his passion for and dedication to

developing routes and trails was unmatched. He was a member of the Red River

Gorge Climbers’ Coalition and fundamental in the purchase of their largest property -

Pendergrass-Murray Recreational Preserve. Bronaugh died of a heart attack while

climbing in The Red in August of 2004, later that year his step-son, Alex Yeakley,

passed away from injuries sustained in a car accident. The trail day event, which

takes place in August annually, began in 2005. Climbers gather at the Pendergrass-

Murray Recreational Preserve and spend the day building and repairing trails. The

day ends with a prepared meal and live music in the evening. This event attracts

between 50 and 100 participants, mostly local and regional climbers. Thus, it

emphasizes the local subculture of the rock climbing community, and in so doing

also illustrates territorialization practices of the rock climbing community.

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Territorialization practices

While Mellor (2001) observes a significant regionality in rock types and

therefore climbing styles and identities in his guide to American Rock and Taylor

(2010) focuses on the history of climbing as born of the Yosemite Valley, Cailly

(2006) explores the more specific territorialization practices associated with climbing

“neo-communities”. Examining the climbing area of Claret, France, Cailly (2006, p.

35) explains, “the activity of rock climbing has produced a neo-community type of

social organisation whose members share a coherent set of emotions, values and

standards that provide a cornerstone of the group’s identity, and which restrict

access by outsiders and perpetuate the idea of ‘one’s own private community’”.

Through the establishment of a neo-community, or what Kiewa (2002) refers to as a

“neo-tribe”, the author observes a series of spatial and symbolic practices that result

in the “quasi privatization of a public space”. These authors highlight the transition

from symbolic to physical boundaries of community (Cohen, 1985). As illustrated in

the above discussion, the shared values, emotions and standards of lifestyle

climbers are essential mechanisms of community cohesion, despite the group’s

hypermobility and dispersion. Yet, they also exhibit a number of territorialization

practices. While these practices, to be discussed in detail below, were only observed

in the Red River Gorge of Kentucky, based on interviews, conversations, and online

data it is believed that similar practices take place across climbing destinations,

particularly those most visited. What’s more, the territorialization practices by rock

climbers are not without contestation by the local, non-climbing population. Cohen

(1985, p. 109) argues that there is tension when the physical and structural

boundaries that distinguish communities are blurred, as “its occupants own sense of

self is felt to be debased and defaced.” Such an analysis of community dynamics

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can be seen where climbers carve out recreational spaces and the physical

boundaries of the local community and rock climbers meet (Figure 14).

Figure 14 - Pendergrass-Murray Recreational Preserve, a RRGCC property, a target of vandalism. Photograph by Bryan Boyd, used with permission.

Lifestyle climbers described The Red and Miguel’s Pizza, as particularly

special within the rock climbing community. At most destinations climbers camp in

small, dispersed campgrounds, only a few offer an area for larger crowds to

congregate and socialize. As such, Miguel’s becomes a sense of home for lifestyle

climbers, a place where the majority of climbers camp, thereby facilitating morning

discussions of where to climb for the day, a place to reconvene in the evenings to

discuss the day’s climbing, and a place to gather and socialize on rest days or rainy

days. Elouise explains that a great climbing destination is about more than the

quality of the rock.

I fell in love with the Red. [...] I always say what brought me to Kentucky is the climbing and what keeps me in Kentucky is the people. [...] You have to make

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bonds, make friends, because you don't climb by yourself. You’re always at least two people, so when you travel by yourself you have to find the good community.

Likewise, Bill Ramsey (2007, p. 11), climber and philosophy professor, writes

of The Red,

The collection of dedicated climbers and colorful characters who climb here offer kinship that is both welcome and welcoming. [...] The one word that best describes the people here is ‘generosity’ … the hospitality of Miguel’s … the magnanimous efforts of route developers … the devotion to access of the RRGCC and private holdings.

This translates to a sense of pride at The Red, as well. Along with those

climbers who live in the Red River Gorge area permanently, the lifestyle climbers

who repeatedly spend months of the year here also consider themselves locals.

Moreover, collectively these “local” climbers advocate being ambassadors of the

climbing community. Mike explains that this is an important aspect of the climbing

community, as something that binds this spatially diffuse subculture.

It’s nice to go to other places, meet other locals there. Most locals are always, really ambassadors to other people from other places. [...] When new people show up here, you introduce yourself, this place. Be an ambassador. It’s nice when people extend the same hand to you, to help you out. Dario [Miguel’s son] does a really good job here. Super nice to anyone who comes here. Anytime he goes anywhere he's always telling people about this place and when they show up, he always just extends an open hand, anything, shirt off his back to anyone who needs it, and, because of that, I think the community's a beautiful thing with climbers.

Kevin, who began climbing in eastern Kentucky 15 years ago, describes his

feelings of localness at The Red and how that sense of identity and pride in one’s

home climbing area extends across destinations.

When I travel, most people know that I’m a Red River local. They know that because they traveled to The Red. They’ve seen me here; they know this is my home area. Then when I go see them, usually they’re psyched to show me their home area, like we’re psyched to share this area. That’s how it works.

It is the local climbers, those who live in eastern Kentucky as well as the

lifestyle climbers who spend several months of the year here, who are most active in

community organizations and activities, further strengthening local community bonds

and identities. In particular, trail days take place throughout the year, but are most

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common in the spring and fall months. A trail day is dedicated to building or repairing

trail infrastructure. These events are volunteer-based. A trail day begins early in the

morning with leaders organizing individuals into groups who will work on specific

tasks associated with trail needs, for example building a new trail involves cutting

down vegetation to form a path, stump removal, leveling of the trail, bracing slopes

to reduce erosion, building footbridges, and so on. The event lasts all day, with a

dinner gathering in the evening. This strengthens community bonds in a number of

ways. Firstly, by working on the infrastructure essential to maintaining their home

climbing area, individuals are physically building these destinations. Secondly, this

work is done as a group, building a trail alone or in a small group takes days to

weeks, whereas, working together completes the task more efficiently, with everyone

playing an important role. Thirdly, climbers are volunteering their time. The

properties that host trail days are either community-owned, through the Red River

Gorge Climbers’ Coalition, or privately owned to maintain climbers’ access. The

RRGCC and private owners rarely have the funds to pay crews to maintain trails;

therefore climbers donate their time and energy to maintain these areas, giving back

to their home climbing area. Finally, the day ends with a social gathering, which

includes dinner and drinks, also donated by a community member, sometimes the

property-owner. The day’s hard work is appreciated, and the evening spent together

afterwards reinforces who is a “local” member of this community.

Therefore it is not surprising that many of the “local” lifestyle climbers

expressed a sense of ownership of The Red. In fact, many of them do have some

claims to “ownership” in that they have discovered new areas, cleaned rock faces

opening them up to climbers, as well as bolted and named routes. While landowners

have the final say in the development of rock faces, it is usually the bolter of the

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individual route who maintains ownership of it in guidebooks and must be

approached if any changes need to be made in terms of bolt placement or repairs. In

fact, some climbers use these opportunities to their advantage in order to minimize

outsider visitation. For example, some routes have been given rather vulgar names,

including Rectal Exorcism, Stool Sample, Sex Show, and Pocket Pussy, in efforts to

minimize outsiders. While the name of the route may have nothing to do with the

actual rock face, some sponsored groups, including gear companies and guiding

services, will avoid these areas rather than have to print or recite such route names.

This is an example of the community’s public space reshaped into “quasi-private”

space through specific subcultural practices (Cailly, 2006), as well as the

establishment of subcultural symbolic boundaries.

Nevertheless, as the reputation of excellent sport climbing in The Red grows,

more outsiders will visit. This has created a dilemma for local climbers. Not only are

they concerned about sustainability, in terms of trail capacity, the impacts of more

people and dogs under the cliffs, and crowd management, as some areas have

already been closed due to their overuse and degradation of the natural

environment, some also discussed creating a more official ethical standard. Carl

explained that when the community was smaller, it was more obvious to new

members when they were not following a common, yet unspoken, ethic and etiquette

at the crag. Now, as the numbers of climbers coming to The Red increases annually,

the “locals” are lost in the crowd, so to speak. Community conformity and uniformity

have decreased as the number of climbers in the area has increased (see Cohen,

1985). They can no longer set the standard through their actions alone, as they are

no longer the majority. In fact, they are very much in the minority during the peak

months of the spring and fall.

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What’s difficult is that, like, back in the day the local climbing community was super obvious, you know what I mean. If you came here, you were exposed to the local climbing community, you were the minority, the locals were the majority. It’s not that case now, hardly anywhere, it’s way more, like, dissolved, it’s way more diluted. Where there was two locals for every visiting climbers, now there’s ten visiting climbers for every local.

Therefore, incidents of conflict have arisen, products of trying to voice

disapproval for what he refers to as “obliviousness” among the larger crowds of new

rock climbers. From confrontations regarding poor, unsafe technique and a lack of

etiquette in terms of playing loud music or having unfriendly dogs at the crags to the

removal of equipment from routes, forcing more “personal responsibility”. Thus, Carl

advocates establishing a more transparent ethic for The Red. He wants to reify the

symbolic boundaries of this subculture, particularly in regards to ethics and etiquette,

to correspond with physical boundaries of The Red.

We need to step it up and establish an ethic we can be proud of at The Red, and not have it be so ... The Red’s just kind of a gimmicky place these days. I think that we can do a little bit to lessen that [...] I don’t really remember people getting hurt back in the day, like, on a regular basis. I think there’s been like six people deck at The Lode this fall. That’s just a, it’s directly correlated to the skill level of the average climber at the cliff these days. I think that if we can put a little bit more responsibility, personal responsibility back in the hands of the climbers, then that’s good for everybody.

How the climbing community should go about developing and implementing

such a standard of practice is more difficult, however. As the climbing community

continues to grow, issues of conflict will arise more frequently. This suggests the

RRGCC will need to take more of a public relations role in the community. At the

moment their main goals are to obtain and maintain access to climbing areas in The

Red. However, formal discussions are becoming more frequent within the local

community as issues of conflict arise. While Carl argues that the community needs

to “establish an ethic”, the RRGCC may be the best community organization to host

debates and forge a common set of ethics and corresponding etiquette. Moreover,

they may prove to be the most appropriate forum to disseminate such guidelines,

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through online media and physical postings at climbing areas. Of course, problems

will arise even within the local community as to the proper etiquette and suitable set

of ethics. While one may find a greater degree of common ground among the local

climbers than the larger rock climbing community, there are still deep rifts indicative

of preferred climbing style, generation, dedication to the sport, and permanency in

the region. Such actions may, in fact, result in stronger declarations of subcultural

identities over community identity (see Cohen, 1985).

Motivations, goals, and experiences

Lifestyle climbers illustrate the intra-community dynamics that divide the

larger rock climbing community in numerous ways, as their dedication to the sport

and lifestyle results in active territorialization and identification practices. However,

lifestyle climbers also exhibit subcultural dynamics that cohere the community in

some regards, as well as further divide it in others. Thus, just as the broader rock

climbing community is not uniform, neither are lifestyle climbers. In what follows, the

individual nature of the motivations, goals, and experiences of lifestyle climbing are

examined.

Rock climbing – sport, game, or practice

A common perspective among lifestyle climbers is a deep love and reverence

for rock climbing, as discussed above in terms of group cohesion; it is also the

primary motivation for taking up this lifestyle. As a result of the deeply personal

experiences of climbing and its centrality in their lives, many lifestyle climbers

question whether rock climbing is a sport and suggest it is more of a practice or a

game. Indeed, this argument is not new. Inherent to most definitions of sport is an

element of competition (see Robinson, 2008), and as a result several scholars have

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also raised the issue as to whether climbing is technically a sport. Of course, there

are distinct climbing competitions, which usually take place in climbing gyms.

Hamilton (1979, p. 285), however, argues that climbing is best conceived as a game

– “rock climbing is a game focused on a very definite achievement: the ascent, in

specified style, of specific routes on a cliff.” Tejada-Flores (1967) article “Games

climbers play” introduces a hierarchical analysis of climbing games from the form

with the most rules but least jeopardy to the least number of rules but highest degree

of jeopardy (bouldering, crag, continuous, big-wall, alpine, super-alpine, and

expedition). Thus, Williams and Donnelly (1985, p. 3) argue that rock climbing is

play-like, as it is “constituted by an unmarked range of achievements which are

termed ascents.” In fact, Mortlock (1984) contends that play is the first stage of

adventure, in which an individual is operating below his/her capabilities, then

followed by adventure, frontier adventure, and misadventure (see also Varley, 2006).

More recently, Ness’ (2010) study of boulderers in Yosemite suggests climbing is a

practice, in that the climbing space is made through its encounter and performance

in both inscriptive and emergent ways.

There are several themes to the arguments climbers enlist regarding whether

climbing is a sport, or something else. First is the idea of competition. All of the

lifestyle climbers interviewed for this study noted that climbing is not competitive for

them. While Rick and Allen explained they do “compete” with themselves, each

climber interviewed insisted that the rock climbing they perform is not a competition

between individuals. In fact, many dislike the increased media attention that is

resulting in more indoor competitions and more emphasis on outdoor climbing as a

“race for numbers” or “tic list”. Carl explains,

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I don’t think it’s a sport. I think that’s the miscommunication. I don’t think it should be competitive. I can see a place for competitive climbing comps, maybe that’s a sport, the indoor climbing aspect with the World Cups and all that stuff. But if that is a sport, I don’t consider the kind of climbing that I do as a sport. For me it’s like, you wouldn’t consider an artist doing art a sport. Not that my climbing is art, but it is more personal to me than just playing basketball or playing football.

Others focus entirely on the mental aspects, suggesting the physical

experience can be acquired through other activities. This was Anne’s argument.

While she noted the physical requirements necessary for climbing and improving her

abilities, it was entirely the mental experience that drives her. This suggests a

second theme; rock climbing is more of a game - “Climbing is like a game, like a

puzzle, you have to put it together”, she explained.

Yet, the fact that rock climbing is so “personal” for these lifestyle climbers is

perhaps the strongest argument against competiveness and climbing as a sport, as

both of these climbers describe it as more akin to meditation:

I’m not competitive, so I wouldn’t really consider it a sport for me. It’s more of a practice, a meditation; it’s a necessity in my life. If I don’t climb, I’m off. (Diana)

It’s a daily meditation. It’s like this drug that I am supposed to take. (Leslie)

Thus a third theme is that rock climbing is not a sport but a practice, requiring

deep mental focus, similar to meditation. Kevin describes his personal journey with

rock climbing and how his goals and experiences of it have changed.

Originally the point of climbing, I thought, it would be cool just to get on top of mountains, that was the idea, but that is really two-dimensional and mechanical, and not very much fun [...] It requires a lot of me both physically and more mentally, than other things. It doesn't feel like a sport to me. I’m into a lot of other sports and do a lot of other things, but you can’t really win at climbing. There’s a lot bigger mental aspect to it. A good day of surfing to me is more fun than a good day of climbing. But I would still rather have climbing be the main focus of what I’m doing. It just demands more of myself and the more the activity I’m pursuing demands of me, it just keeps me on the straight and narrow, I guess. [...] It feels like a practice, maybe a philosophical practice with physical applications. […] You have the mental factors that are brought about through a physical practice and that's kind of what climbing feels like to me. The physical part with the intent of bringing about a specific mental concept is kind of the idea. The Zen quote, punish your body to purify your mind, type of deal, it’s that sort idea.

Spiritual aspects of rock climbing are sometimes discussed on online forums,

as well as in climbing videos and magazines, and in particular among climbing

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clothing brands. On Rockclimbing.com four forum threads were started with an

interest in discussing the “spiritual” in climbing. One, for example, begins with the

question, “Is the enlightenment you get from conquering a mad problem more

spiritual or physical?” and continues with arguments about the connection of the

mind and body, as therefore a spiritual experience, and the distinctions between

enlightenment and spirituality. These climbers explained the personal, spiritual

experience of climbing as,

God is reason I climb...just as God is the reason I live. Climbing is an extension of knowing God for me....one way I experience God's love. (T54P14)

The point is gain something physically and spiritually. (T55P3)

This climber suggests a spiritual experience by equating travel for rock climbing to a

pilgrimage,

there is always time to get a way [sic] from the regular rigors of society and make a pilgrimage to the rocks (T2P130)

Such statements suggest Taylor’s (2010) book, Pilgrims of the Vertical, is aptly titled.

Rock climbing-associated companies especially highlight this potential

experience. In particular, Prana, a popular climbing clothing brand that also makes

yoga clothing draws connections between the two activities with their slogan – “born

from the experience”. They also use the slogan “breath, life, vitality of the spirit” to

describe their design aspirations, and thereby the resulting experience one should

have when using their products in these activities. Their catalogues feature climbers

and yogis in meditative poses or joyous moments, usually in a natural setting.

The climbing film Pilgrimage (2003), by BigUP Productions, also brings these

two activities together as it follows Chris Sharma, arguably the world’s best rock

climber and a couple of his friends to the boulder fields of Hampi, India. In this

landscape ancient Hindu temples sit among thousands of granite boulders. The film

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thus juxtaposes meditating holy men with meditation-like rock climbing. Moreover, it

builds a strong central narrative around one of the climbers, Katie Brown, who

was one of the world's most famous and accomplished rock climbers until she burnt out and quit climbing at the age of 19. Two years later, free from superstar expectations, she's begun to find joy in climbing once again. Like the Hindu pilgrims who flock to Hampi's temples, Brown has come to rediscover something sacred (http://www.bigupproductions.com, 2008).

Such representations of climbing suggest there is great potential for spiritual

experiences when one steps away from the monotony and constraints of everyday

life and pushes personal boundaries in a natural setting. Yet, there are more

arguments against spiritual experiences in rock climbing by online users than for it,

and moreover, only one of the lifestyle climbers interviewed, Rick, expressed a

spiritual experience while climbing.

Well, climbing has always been very, very spiritual for me, I guess. Of course, we joke about talking about the rock Gods, but I think it’s important to be in tune with what’s going on around you and I think a little of yoga does go a long way in terms of climbing performance too, but it’s also a mental thing. It’s all-calming. I don’t know what else to tell you. Everything's intertwined a little bit when it comes to climbing.

For the majority of lifestyle climbers who took part in this study, climbing is not

spiritual but rather existential. Nevertheless some, like Mike, were open to the

possibility of a spiritual experience.

I think if you’re looking to find that with rock climbing, you certainly can, part of like the personal journey ... maybe, say you’re trying something that's really difficult for you and you can get so invested physically, mentally and spiritually, it can do that. But I think for me, maybe not as much.

Others, such as Kevin, were contentiously against the notion of a spiritual

experience, suggesting that the faith that accompanies spiritualism actually becomes

a wedge between the individual and the experience of climbing.

As soon as you bring religion there has to be some faith involved and there’s nothing even remotely faith-based about rock climbing for me. You hear a lot about people talking about believing they can do something, or whatever. And I think that's just beating about the point; you either know you can do it or you can’t. That doesn’t rule out trying as hard as you can and putting a lot of yourself out there, and I’ve definitely gotten things done that I didn’t' think were possible and I’ve failed on things that should have been easy. But it’s not a religious thing.

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Despite these different experiences of rock climbing, for all of the lifestyle

climbers interviewed for this study, climbing is a deeply personal endeavor and not

competitive, and therefore not a sport. What it is, however, does not have a

consensus among this subculture. It is the primary factor guiding their lifestyle and

travel choices, as Kevin explained; it is what “dictates the pace of my life”. However,

when it came to explaining their lifestyle, while rock climbing is at its center, other

factors are also significant.

Existential authenticity

Dean MacCannell (1973; 1976; 1999) argued that tourists are motivated by a

desire for authentic experience; however, they are ultimately doomed to fail in this

quest because cultural commodification has resulted in only a “staged authenticity”.

He was drawing a connection between authentic experience and objective

epistemology. This, however, does not necessarily account for the emotions and

sensations that arise from doing tourism, which are informed by bodily feelings, a

sense of self, and intersubjective experiences (Wang, 1999). This is particularly

important when considering motivations for tourism based on activity, not on

sightseeing. Therefore, Wang (1999) suggests existential authenticity as an activity-

based approach to the concept in tourism studies. This is particularly applicable to

lifestyle climbers who are motivated by experience and for whom authenticity comes

not from viewing the cliff line, but in a multiplicity of performative ways, including

subjective sensations and intersubjective relationships on the rock face, in nature, at

campgrounds, and on the road. In this vein, Heywood (1994, p. 180) writes of the

“expressive possibilities” of engaging with “sport-lifestyle options” -

They are associated for participating individuals with a feeling that the activity is not just an enjoyable way of passing time, but is on the contrary capable of revealing things of importance about people – perhaps particularly the participants themselves

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– and the world. The activity is able to disclose more than we know already and will go on offering disclosure, a glimpse of inner depths, to committed individuals. The sport represents a dimension of experience in which the world appears vivid, poignant, tangible, fresh and illuminated, often to the considerable disadvantage of the other lifeworlds to which the individual belongs.

Considering these potentialities of a sport lifestyle, in particular lifestyle

climbing, Wang’s (1999) dimensions of existential authenticity for tourism, including

bodily feelings, liminality, and self-making are discussed. Wang’s interpersonal

existential authenticity as tourism communitas was examined above.

Bodily feelings. Some of the primary motivations for tourism include

recreation, relaxation, and rejuvenation, which place the body, and bodily feelings, at

the center of tourism experience (Veijola and Jokinen, 1994; Wang, 1999). Even

more so, the body is central to the experience of sport. Thus, the body is both

sensual and symbolic (Featherstone, Hepworth & Turner, 1991; Wellard, 2009).

While the body is the means of sensing and feeling, both physically and emotionally,

it is also a display of personal identity, including health, fitness, class, age, sexuality,

etc. (Bourdieu 1984; Featherstone, Hepworth & Turner, 1991; Wellard, 2009).

The climbing body, argues Lewis (2000, p. 59), “physicalizes or embodies a

set of ideas and practices that often belie the deep-rooted ambivalence held by

modernity towards the body and sensuous knowledge”; thus how one chooses to

make sense of the world is to exert an existential freedom. For the rock climber, he

argues, “direct experience [...] usurps the pre-eminence of cognitive apprehension”

(2000, p. 71). The participants in this study claimed the bodily experience is what

they enjoy about climbing, and in particular, the relationship between the mind and

body that is fostered with rock climbing. They thrive on the mental, emotional, and

physical challenges of scaling the natural rock face. This is in accordance with

Merleau-Ponty’s (2004) argument – experience exists between the mind and body.

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I like the challenge. I like to get on things that are really difficult for me and figure them out. (Heather)

As a climber, you use your body, and mind, and soul. (T3P45)

More than likely its the mind work with the body and the fact that you can push your limits and you get also to know yourself better, because you have to take skills, almost steps. Sometimes it makes it you grow, somehow, and so like, yeah, to know yourself better. (Elouise)

By dedicating themselves fully to the pursuit of this sport, and more

specifically this bodily experience, they encounter fewer of the alienating distractions

that are noted with conventional lifestyles. In fact, their bodies are at the forefront of

each experience. Thus, while Simmel (1997 [1950]) suggests life becomes easy in a

metropolis, “the individual has become a mere cog in an enormous organisation” (p.

184), to step away from such automation of choice and action makes life all the more

difficult, but offering the potential for existential authenticity (Lewis, 2000).

You really feel the weather when you’re on this sort of thing. The weather gets bad and you start to feel bad, when the weather gets good you start to feel great. So it’s a trade off, but right now the weather has been bad a little too much. (Dave)

I mean, every now and then you have those days, where it’s rainy and it’s shitty and everything you have is wet and it’s cold and it’s fucked. And you’re just like what the fuck am I doing living in the woods, man? I could be doing something with my life, I could be giving something back to society. But no, I’m going to live in my car and get rained on so I can go rock climbing tomorrow. But then when the sun comes out and the rock's dry and you do that first pitch and you remember why you're doing it. It’s really hard to explain to somebody that’s never been rock climbing why you’re doing it. Until you’ve been climbing, and I don’t mean in a gym, I mean actually rock climbing, on a cliff, with the exposure outside, you’re not going to understand it. (James)

Their days play out in the elements, from sleeping to cooking to climbing

(Figures 15 and 16). As a result, weather has a tremendous effect on individuals’

moods. While a single rainy day can be a bummer, severely limiting the number of

dry climbing areas to the most overhanging cliff lines, a series of rainy days can be

devastating.

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Figure 15 - A warm, spring afternoon. Photograph by Bryan Boyd, used with permission.

Figure 16 - A cool, damp morning. Photograph by Bryan Boyd, used with permission.

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Thus, prolonged inclement weather or an injury that prevents them from

frequent climbing results in irritability and even depression. For some, it is these

instances that raise self-doubt, make them most questionable of their decision to

climb full-time and reassess their current situation. For example, after a few

unexpected expenses crippled Kevin’s budget and a whole week of rain hit, he

declared he was quitting the lifestyle and looking for full-time work. But when he

secured some temporary work and the sun returned, he was back at the crag on a

regular basis.

As with most sports, there is an ideal body type associated with optimal

performance. Because the rock climber is continually lifting her/his weight against

the force of gravity, a lean but muscular body is ideal (Figure 17). This is not only

displayed in the numerous rock climbing videos and magazines, such as Rock and

Ice and Climbing, but also at the crag (see Erikson, 2005). Such appearances make

first impressions. Those who do not conform to such preconceptions are looked at

with speculation. However, those who perform well, despite their deviation from the

norm, are often praised and this becomes a source of friendly jokes. For example,

Robert is affectionately teased for his ability to “walk up to a route, beer gut hanging

out over his harness, and totally send that 5.12”.

For women, however, this results in a bit of a catch-22. Despite changes, rock

climbing remains a male dominated sport, and this disparity grows among lifestyle

climbers. Described by one of the female climbers in this study, “It’s still very much a

boy’s club.” Although some of the top climbers in the world are female, notably Lynn

Hill, Beth Rodden, Katie Brown, and Tori Allen, that does not translate to the crag.

Females are expected to underperform compared to their male climbing partners. As

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a result, when this does not happen, gender becomes associated with

accomplishment.

“Elizabeth is the only one who has sent that route, man or woman”, described

her boyfriend. Despite the fact that Elizabeth is one of the best climbers in The Red,

better than her boyfriend in fact, he still felt the need to qualify her success in relation

to her gender. This is a tactic employed not only by the men in the community, but

women likewise add such qualifiers to their climbing achievements. Thus, the bodily

experience for the female climber is also a highly gendered experience, particularly

off the rock face (see Erikson, 2005; Robinson, 2008; Chisholm, 2008; Dilley &

Scraton, 2010).

Moreover, when the skilled female climber develops a body that is especially

muscular, she is described as masculine. In describing such a person, one climber

noted, “Sarah, yeah, you know her. She’s got blonde hair and is built, you know, like

a dude.” Femininity and masculinity are at odds for the female climber. While the

rock may be gender-neutral, the “practice of rock climbing cultivates the body

towards a better configuration for climbing” (Lewis, 2000, p. 75). Thus, to be strong

enough to overcome the challenges of the rock face means foregoing some of bodily

aspects that fuel preconceptions of femininity (see Figure 17).

Chisholm’s (2008) feminist phenomenological study, “Climbing like a Girl”,

focuses on Lynn Hill illustrating that in a masculine dominated society, such as rock

climbing, gender becomes “background” – “the existential conditions of our situation

that we do not always recognize and that affect our ability to act regardless of our

intent” (p. 12, citing Merleau-Ponty, 1962). As a result, she argues, Hill “climbs

freely” by understanding her body “not as an object among objects but as an

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embodied intentionality” (2008, p. 17), embracing Merleau-Ponty’s (1962, p. 82)

argument, “the body is the vehicle for being in the world”.

Figure 17 - The female "climbing body". Tuna Town (5.12d), The Mother Lode, Red River Gorge, Kentucky. Photograph by Bryan Boyd, used with permission.

The lived experience of climbing is physically, mentally, and emotionally

embodied. The rock face is transformed from space to place through its

performance, shaping both the rock and the body. Rossiter (2007) argues that

climbing is a defacing – climbers leave residues of chalk, they “clean” the rock face

of plants and debris, and they intentionally and accidentally remove bits of rock.

However, Rossiter (2007, p. 298) also contends that climbing is an “animated

intercorporeality”, “climbing bodies must deface and […] the cliff simultaneously

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defaces them.” The climber’s interaction with the rock physically shapes the body,

from the practice of climbing as well as forceful encounters with the rock (Figures 18,

19, and 20). Muscles are strengthened, particularly in the arms, chest, and core

(Quaine, Vigouroux, & Martin, 2003), and skin is scratched, calloused, and scarred,

especially on the fingers from grabbing holds and hands and arms as a result of

jamming appendages into cracks. Many of the strongest climbers develop “climber’s

back”; a hunched or slouched posture that results from the overdevelopment of

chest and bicep muscles in relation to thorax muscles (Förster, Penka, Bösl,

Schöffle, 2008).

Figure 19 – Split fingertip. Photograph by Bryan Boyd, used with permission.

Figure 18 - Head injury from a fall. Photograph by Gregg Purnell, used with permission.

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Figure 19 - Climbing hands. Photograph by Joe Bookwalter, used with permission.

Liminality. Existential authenticity is commonly associated with liminality in

the tourism literature, as a distinct spatio-temporal experience from the everyday

(see Graburn, 1983; Wang, 1999; Kim & Jamal, 2007). That is, it is argued,

modernity imposes constraints on one’s behavior, appearance, and emotions, but

the liminality of tourism allows for a more spontaneous, free experience and,

therefore, an opportunity for expressing an authentic self. While the liminality of

travel becomes a way of life, lifestyle climbers experience numerous liminal

moments, from experiences on the rock, which many describe as “timeless”

moments of flow (Csikszentmihalyi, 1990) to their constant mobility. Csikszentmihalyi

(1990, p. 4) has developed a theory for the experience that results when peak skill is

met with peak challenge. He has termed this, “flow”, an optimal experience – a “state

in which people are so involved in an activity that nothing else seems to matter”. One

of the symptoms of “flow” is a feeling of timelessness during the activity. This is

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among the most common descriptions offered by climbers regarding their experience

on the rock face.

When you’re climbing you don’t have time to be thinking about anything else. It’s not that you don’t have time to think, but that there’s just, like, no time, no time when you are climbing. (Nicholas)

I guess a saying that goes with climbers; they say that they get into ‘the zone’. [...] It’s someplace where you lose yourself and you find yourself. [...] I like being far off the ground, away from everything, away from everyone, and when you’re climbing it’s just you, right. (Rick)

This experience is a primary motivation for climbers. Csikszentmihalyi (1990)

argues that this is a state of mind that results “when consciousness is harmoniously

ordered”, and when individuals “want to pursue whatever they are doing for its own

sake” (p. 6). This state of mind, combined with adrenaline rush, physical exertion,

and enjoyment of the outdoors produce a powerful drive in these climbers to

maintain their lifestyle. Yet, despite pursuing rock climbing full-time, a relatively small

portion of their day is actually occupied by the experience of “flow”. Few can

physically climb everyday as muscles, tendons, and skin must have periods of rest

and recovery. Therefore, many climbers have schedules, such as two days on, one

day off, to allow their bodies to recover. Moreover, when they are at the crag, only a

small amount of time is spent on the rock face. They might climb a sport route for 20

minutes or work the route for longer, but then need to rest, as well as belay their

climbing partner (Figure 21). As a result, the average full-time climber gets only a

few opportunities a day to experience flow.

Much of the rest of the day, however, is spent engaged in conversations

about climbing, such as which routes to take on as new projects. In particular, when

describing routes climbed they will usually rehearse the moves, verbally as well as

physically. Hands are thrown into the air as if reaching for a hold, and sometimes

grunts and moans are used to express the difficulty of the move. Ness (2011, p. 75)

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describes witnessing such a rehearsal – “they moved between linguistic and gestural

forms of representation with a fluency that indexed their combined extensive

practice”. These expressive moments allow climbers to recapture bits of that flow

experience and stay energized in their down time.

Figure 20 - Rock climbing. Photograph by Bryan Boyd, used with permission.

Liminality can also be experienced as a result of their hypermobility. When

choosing to climb full-time, these climbers are also choosing a life of travel.

Explained by one climber, “there’s nowhere that is great 12 months of the year, so if

you really want to climb all the time, it’s pretty important [to travel]”. This results in a

highly mobile lifestyle, with most climbers spending only a few weeks to months at a

single destination. Over time, this constant travel can result in a sense of

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placelessness (Relph, 1976) for some - “Basically, I haven't had a 'home' for two

years” (T29P1), while others relish this aspect of the lifestyle, as they do not like to

feel tied to a single place – “I like to be in situations, places that I am not

comfortable, like in new places”, described Jeff. Most of these itinerant climbers,

however, explained that they have adjusted to this mobility so that they feel at home

when climbing or when they are with other climbers. For those who have been

traveling and climbing for longer periods of time, and in particular, those who have

converted a van or live out of a RV, they have made this small space their home.

Elouise explained,

Home is just wherever I am. I’ve got my van. I’ve got my own space here, when I need to just be alone.

And Leah expressed similar sentiments,

It’s just been within the past year or two that I’ve realized there’s not like a geographical areas that are like home, so it’s been pretty easy to be like home is the back of my Toyota. I have everything I need with me and I can bring it wherever I want. And I am home in my body, instead of like, I have to be in a certain place. So traveling has felt pretty normal, pretty mellow.

As a result, several lifestyle climbers also mentioned the difficulty they now have

sleeping indoors.

Actually when I go home and I go to my parents’ house, you know where I go to bed at night? I go to bed in my truck. My parents have like eight bedrooms and I go to bed in my truck. Because it’s my space, it’s my apartment; it’s my home. And I sleep well. I close the doors and I feel most comfortable, I feel most happy living out of my truck. (Rick)

Thus, even in the liminality of a hypermobile lifestyle, these climbers find

ways to create their own spaces, even if it is just within a van or a tent. This supports

Cohen’s (2010) argument that lifestyle travelers illustrate a de-differentiation of

everyday life and tourist experience. Moreover, as Germann Molz (2008, p. 327)

argues, with increased mobility, “home becomes a signifier not only for the normative

stability of a particular place or for the transportable sentiments of comfort, security,

familiarity and control, but also for a way of being and belonging in the world as a

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whole”. It is not surprising, therefore, that the producers of the documentary 23 feet

(2011) chose to use the song “Home” by Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeros as

their theme song. This film, with the slogan “living simply to do what you love

outside”, meets up with minimalist, mobile outdoor enthusiasts across the United

States. From rock climbers to surfers to hikers, it highlights choosing a different

mode of life, comfort versus necessity, the difficulties of dirtbagging, striving to

embrace one’s core values, and making home along the way rather than a place to

return.

Sense of self. Because many individuals find their everyday roles

monotonous and therefore constraining to efforts of self-realization, Wang (1999, p.

363) argues self-making is “an implicit dimension underlying the motivation for

tourism, particularly for traveling off the beaten track.” By stepping away from

everyday roles, tourism offers not only relaxation and rejuvenation through which

one can re-approach the daily rigors, but more significantly it can provide the

structural break needed to reassess unsatisfactory lives and make changes (Cohen,

1979). While a love of rock climbing is the most frequently cited motivation for taking

up this lifestyle, observations of the forums at Rockclimbing.com and conversations

with lifestyle climbers reveal more personal motivations regarding a sense of self

that has become unrealized in everyday life. Encourages one former dirtbag, “You

can find out alot [sic] about yourself on the road, you just have to go and look”

(T6P33). Thus, the idea of lifestyle climbing offers great potential for the

(re)discovery of self, an essential component of existential authenticity (see also

Noy, 2004a, Shaffer, 2004; Cohen, 2010). Both online and in-person climbers

described taking up a mobile lifestyle as a way of seeking out a sense of self. By

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changing their everyday lives, particularly their work environment, they hoped to

(re)discover an authenticity of self.

I'm so looking forward to a simpler life. I'm only 26, but I feel 40. There is so much that I need to leave behind right now, so that I can focus on me. [...] I need to get to know myself, cause I've nearly forgotten who I am. I have been groomed into a corporate lemming, and nearly lost sight of what is TRULY important to me. (T8P32)

I like the freedom. I like being in shape. I like climbing. I feel complete. I was pretty lost before I started climbing; it saved me, in many ways. I don’t like driving several hours just for work, I don’t like being in a cubicle, to, like, be in there to work eight hours, 8 to 5, in an office. I did that for a while. It didn’t interest me and I didn’t have an appetite, for anything, really. I was like 20 pounds lighter, addicted to Adderall. (Anne)

As a result of refocusing their lives on traveling and rock climbing, many

described profound personal changes. Rick explained,

I think travel builds character. It builds moral standards. It builds capability to socialize and solve problems; that’s not taught in school.

James expressed similar sentiments, as he described that this lifestyle reveals one’s

true self, and sources of strength and endurance.

When you live in your van, it teaches you a lot about yourself. Regardless. It’s an experience. It’s different. You learn a lot about who you are, what you have, what you’re made of, what you’re willing to do for something, how far you are willing to go for it.

Elouise found she had changed so much during her travels that she felt she no

longer, literally, fit into society. Consequently, she saved her earnings over the

course of the following year and set off traveling again. She has been on the road

ever since, that was four years ago and she has no plans to stop.

So in 2006 I took one year off and bought a round the world ticket with British Airways. I did 26 flights and five continents. It was the first time I was really traveling, and I was by myself. It was kind of like a jump in the ocean, you know. Really scary, but seemed like the best gift I could give myself. [...] Then I came back to my work and I was living with my mom and stepdad. I was trying to find my place. [...] I mean, you're so different from everything, traveling and, yeah, different. I was feeling kind of stuck in my, I don't know, my place. I was feeling out of place. I would say … my shape, it was different. So it was kind of like, you have put yourself back in that box, and that's it. But it was like I was round and I just didn't fit anymore, into the box. (Elouise)

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Over time, as a result of repeatedly facing moments of challenge, some

explained that a new sense of self and ability emerges. For Leslie self-sufficiency

and limiting her expectations of others as come along with her sense of self.

I think I've become more myself. I think I don’t have to have any of the expectations of other people, anymore. Having this lifestyle is more on me and what I am capable of. It’s not about being able to count on others, so I have to be patient, especially with myself.

Yet, as Steiner and Reisinger (2006, p. 303) remind us, “the existential self is

transient, not enduring, and not conforming to a type. It changes from moment to

moment.” So, along with re-assessing their lifestyle decisions in light of feelings of

guilt and doubt, these climbers also remind themselves of their existential

motivations.

I like the person that I am trying to be when I am socializing with other people and hanging out and doing all this kind of stuff. (Susan)

I almost feel like a jerk that I put those things first, like, they’re so important to me. But they are. You can’t help it. Such is life. But this is my body and this is my time and I’m going to do it the right way. (Allen)

Taylor argues the dirtbag evolved out of a generation of Beatnik climbers who

had “developed a novel philosophy, one that simultaneously honored tradition and

championed a countercultural quest for authentic experience” (2010, p. 133). As the

original “climbing bums”, they pursued a “vagabond life of cross-country climbing

and partying” (2010, p. 134). Yet, the dirtbags, who began to show up on the scene

in 1960s, he argues, were characterized by a “lack of any philosophical agenda. […]

It was recreation, pure and simple”, (2010, p. 197). This research, suggests,

however, it is not that “simple”, particularly when considered within a wider context of

mobility, or mobilities.

These itinerant rock climbers do exhibit a philosophical agenda, as they react

against what many see as consumerism and materialism. In particular, many believe

a minimalist lifestyle focused on climbing, as opposed to broader societal norms and

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constraints, offers the potential for authentic experiences. But to do this, they must

find a time and space away from their everyday lives and the road, that is, constant

mobility offers this. Moreover, a mobile community also exists, for which they have a

common bond – rock climbing.

Shaffer’s (2004) auto-ethnography of backpacking suggests a sense of

authenticity is created in performative ways, as well as in the narrative moments that

claim unique and original experience (see also Knudsen & Waade, 2010). While for

some it is but a short-term “strategy” to maximize engagement with the sport of rock

climbing and is thus one component of their social identity, for many others it is

performative of their values of rebellion against societal norms. For these more

dedicated climbers, who spend years living this mobile lifestyle, there are

expressions of frustration with what they see as consumerism and a lack of

appreciation for the moments of life, all of which motivates them to action. They

perform the antithesis of what they see as problematic societal norms by taking to

the road, dedicating themselves to rock climbing, and thereby living a minimalist

lifestyle with strong community bonds and the potential for authentic experiences. In

the space and time of the road, they discover aspects of themselves which had been

unrealized in everyday life, thus suggesting, similar to Noy’s (2004a, 2004b) and

Shaffer’s (2004) studies of backpackers, this time becomes more about the journey

than the destinations and as such can function as a transitional life phase or rite of

passage. Yet, for some lifestyle climbing transcends an episode or phase of life to

become simply a way of life.

A lifestyle, a strategy, or a transitional phase. Taylor (2010, p. 217) argues

that dirtbagging is “a strategy as much as a lifestyle […] Dirtbagging was a means, a

cul-de-sac of arrested development, and a reformulation of the culture wars.” While

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each of the climbers interviewed for this study were able to identify a number of

strategies they employ living this lifestyle, they all agreed this is a lifestyle choice.

That is, while rock climbing is the primary motivational factor for choosing this

lifestyle, they each suggested other motivations as well. Moreover, they describe the

sacrifices they have made, the unanticipated difficulties, and the personal changes

they have experienced. In doing so, some distinctions can be drawn in relation to the

temporal framing of this lifestyle choice, from a temporary to a lifelong pursuit.

The majority of lifestyle climbers described their decision to take up the sport

full-time as more of an evolution than a distinct moment. They described climbing

every weekend and vacation to taking month-long trips to spending a few months on

the road evolving into a permanent lifestyle. According to Jack,

It just kind of happened. I came down here [The Red] on a whim with a friend for a fall season and, I don’t know, I just never stopped doing it. I guess I just liked what I was doing.

Nevertheless, several identify distinct events that were catalysts to taking this new

approach to life. On Rockclimbing.com some of these moments included, a serious

car accident (T32P6), divorce (T6P15, T6P45), and “painful family changes” (T6P22)

that led them to want a new perspective on life, which necessitated a lifestyle

change.

More frequently, though, lifestyle climbers noted the desire to do something

different from the everyday or to take some personal time. Mike described finishing a

Bachelor’s degree and the need to take some time for himself.

I went to school, got a four-year degree in Finance. It was really boring, I really disliked like it. I just wanted to finish up school, say I had that piece, as a back up. And I knew I didn't really want to do finance, I didn't want to, like, go directly into the working world. I needed some time to blow off steam after, just like, slugging it out through school. I had such a hard time with school, [...] I told myself I'll do it for a year or two, blow off some steam, and figure out what's going on. And, now it’s been like three and a half years, still haven't figured out what's going on. I don't know if I've got much steam to blow off, anymore.

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Likewise, Heather explained that she originally thought she would only be

dirtbagging for a couple of years, and although she has passed that time span, she

thinks she is ready to settle down again. Thus, these individuals indicate that this is a

transitional phase in their lives. This is the general consensus on online forums as

well, and moreover, that such a phase should occur at a certain time in one’s life.

“Do it while you're young” (T31P7), advises one former dirtbag, and others agree this

is best pursued in the transitions of youth (T10P42, T20P22, T37P13). Accordingly,

many younger climbers assert plans to take such a trip after high school/ before

college (T6P43, T6P55, T6P70, T8P23) or after university (T6P46, T31P5, T43P1,

T10P21).

Do yourself a favor and go. Defer for a year or go after college but make sure you carve out some purely selfish road time for yourselves. (T6P35)

As a transitional phase, many described changes in their sense of self and

how they view and interact with others. Mike has become very mindful of his lifestyle

choice as he assesses whether to continue traveling and climbing or to settle down,

and so he reflects on this period in his life as a learning experience.

A lot more mature. [...] I’m a little more open-minded. [...]. I’ve also met a lot more people, so I think a little friendlier and outgoing, able to carry on conversations on just about anything. I’ve definitely changed since being here, for the better and the worse. [...] The glory days – just for having fun, being free, learning a ton. I’ve learned a whole lot about people, situations, and myself while being here. I’ve just learned a lot about life. It’s just, like, this learning stage.

Those who are former dirtbags reflect on this period fondly, particularly as a

period of happiness (T6P61, T10P36, T53P2). Similar to the “self-change” narratives

of backpackers recorded by Noy (2004a, 2004b), these lifestyle climbers gained a

new perspective on life which they attribute to this period. In particular, as they

describe realizations of their adaptability (T2P62, T46P1), and others note they have

come away with a better sense of balance in their lives (T10P37, T46P3, T46P4). It

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is a way to gain life experience (T6P45, T8P24, T31P12, T29P3), as they consider

their future reflections on lives lived and possible regrets.

It was dirt poor then, but happy. Hindsight is 20/20. (T8P32)

When I'm old and on my deathbed reflecting back on my life and any regrets, I know that I will not say, “I just wish I had spent more time at the office.”(T6P18)

I've learned one very important thing on this trip [...] and I think this is fundamentally what I sought out to prove to myself [...] I don't need any of these luxuries. (T29P15)

After dirtbagging for more than three years following university, Mike has

begun considering an end to this lifestyle. Because of his uncertainty he has started

applying for jobs that will utilize his Finance degree and lead to a career in the field,

but he remains unsure as to what he wants in his future.

I don’t think the lifestyle is getting boring and don’t think the climbing is getting boring. Sometimes you just need a change. And maybe that's why I ride the fence. Maybe I just need to go somewhere else and kind of do a lifestyle like this, and maybe I need to go just get a job.

And he is not alone, others also noted the difficulty of returning to a more

settled life after this extended period of travel, particularly turning to online forums for

advice (T10P1, T43P1, T46P3). The decision to return to a “normal” life seems to be

much more difficult than was the decision to take up this lifestyle. Their

apprehension for return suggests fears of falling back into old patterns of daily life

and a potential loss of authenticity. “Maybe there is a proverbial crossroads every

dirtbag must face: To join the rest of society or remain at large” (T10P14). Another

dirtbag writes a lengthy narrative of his transition out of a Silicon Valley lifestyle

through two years of dirtbagging and to his current situation at such a crossroads:

But funds got alarmingly low, and sitting out in the desert around J-Tree [Joshua Tree, California] just a couple of weeks ago I realized that I needed to go back. […] I need to get a job and return to whatever it is most people consider normal. […] The goal stopped being just to climb a lot. I wanted to avoid getting sucked into the whole consumer yuppie fuckhead lifestyle again. […] The thought of sitting in an office all day terrifies me. The thought of having actual responsibilities is mortifying. (T29P1)

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For Jessica, however, this “transitional” phase has become more discernible in

recent years.

I traveled through Europe and did a bunch of stuff in South America, and did it by myself. And I traveled the U.S. So I was like, yeah, you know I can move on to the next part of my life where I’m in a career and that kind of stuff.

Likewise, Carl, while he does not have any interest in transitioning out of this

lifestyle, describes some apprehensions about “normal” life. He has been dirtbagging

for seven years and explains that as a result of his simplified, minimalist lifestyle,

“hectic” daily schedules make him nervous.

I’m not as adapted to complicated human life as most people around me are. Being hardened to the busy-ness of life is a nice skill to have. It makes me, like, tweak out. I lose it.

A general social anxiety is not uncommon among lifestyle climbers, especially

those who consider themselves “lifers”. For those who have chosen an alternative

lifestyle and are committed to it for the long-term, social nervousness was indicated

as both a motivation for taking up a minimalist, mobile, independent lifestyle but also

the reasons they enjoy it and will continue. Thus, it is not surprising that Carl feels

most comfortable in his van, a space he has transformed through an extra layer of

insulation, built in bed, storage, and kitchen area. “I’ve just surrounded myself with

the most important, sentimental things.” It is a space that he has created and for

which he is responsible.

Even if I wasn’t a climber, this is my preferred lifestyle choice. […] I like, you know, cozy little spaces, like my van. I like to have all my stuff right there; I like the simplicity of it. I always felt like I missed my generation by a couple hundred years. So I can emulate that lifestyle in this van a little bit, with no running water, no electricity, well, limited electricity. Cooking, I can see my propane going down, I can see my water going down. It’s not like a non-renewable resource, I can, just, tell that I need to get some water. I feel like I’m more in touch with it, instead of just turning the faucet on or flicking the light on and getting a bill at the end of the month. Like, how much I use, how much I waste. I like the mobility and the freedom. I don’t do well with stress and with commitment, so it’s nice to be able to like change locations when I need to.

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Therefore the “lifers”, in particular, do not see this as a distinct time in their

lives, but simply their lifestyle. Elouise explains,

To me it’s not just, like, a transition, it’s a choice. And, it’s my life. I'm not on vacation. It’s my life so I'm going to try to stick with it as long as I can.

Their motivations also suggest a malaise with general society. For Elouise, she felt

that she did not have a place in society. The more she travels and simplifies her life,

the less she feels she has in common with non-lifestyle climbers. Rick expressed

similar sentiments,

So, I think I live like this because I just don’t ... I think I’m afraid to face the fact that we live in a horrible world. I mean I don’t watch the news, read the newspaper. [...] I think we don’t want anything to do with what's actually going on. We don’t want to support it and we don’t want to be reminded that there’s horrible, horrible things out there. We try to live our lives as cheap as possible and as fairly as possible and try to have as much fun as we can while we can.

Yet, for Kevin, attempts at rejoining society have always brought him back to life on

the road:

I don’t have a choice, you know. I’ve tried to go back to school, get a job. But I always end up back here. I always get drawn back into it.

Thus, the most dedicated of lifestyle climbers are not taking time out of their

lives for travel and rock climbing, but are choosing an alternative lifestyle. Leah and

Allen, in particular, emphasized this choice. They are more positive, speaking about

the opportunity to choose such a lifestyle and explained that it is actually

empowering.

I’ve never felt like there’s anything minimal about my life. I guess that’s just when you make that choice. Sure, a family of four living in a car is going to feel like that they’re sacrificing a lot, but being like, ‘ok, I chose to move into this truck. ’ […] We live in luxury even when we are in our cars, really. (Leah)

Being a minimalist, it’s almost sounds like your losing something. You’re choosing to find things through other means. (Allen)

Nevertheless, many lifestyle climbers identified a number of sacrifices they

have made to live this way. Nearly every one of the lifestyle climbers pointed to the

sacrifice of comforts, financial security, health, and time with family:

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Financial insecurity. Not knowing. I’m in a place now where, you know, I don’t have any health insurance. If I have a medical issue that needs to be taken care of, that’s going to be game changing. If I get hurt bad enough, all this comes crashing down. I can’t let that burden get passed on my folks, in any sort of way [...] I passed two stones without going to the doctor, you know, it’s not fun. (Kevin)

I don’t really have any savings or anything. [...] And I think maybe, personal health, some well-being can be a sacrifice, too. It’s not the healthiest way to live. I’ve been hurt and not been able to, like, I’ve had a few breaks, and set them myself. (Jack)

Some sacrifices have also included significant educational and career opportunities.

I’m an educator, so I’ve had to part ways with students and families that I love and that I’m really important to. (Diana)

Some big ones that come to mind, a college education. Chances are, could’ve had college paid for, if I’d kept going down that path. It would have been nice. [...] I was definitely on a path where I could have kept playing baseball in, pretty much, whatever capacity I wanted, could have played college baseball, was probably going to able to get drafted and probably make a pretty meager income to throw a baseball for a while. [...] Honestly, giving up the game of baseball was a big step. Before climbing, baseball was kind of that thing for me. But it had to go; baseball's a game. It doesn’t change what it means to me, but it’s different. That honestly was a sacrifice, at that point in time, it doesn’t seem like such a big deal now. But that was the biggest decision I made, was to not play baseball anymore to go rock climbing. (Kevin)

Others noted the desire, but great difficulty of finding a partner, having a

relationship, and starting a family. They explained the choice of living a minimalist

and mobile lifestyle or having a family, and the near impossibility of having both,

evidenced by the fact that only one family was observed living this lifestyle – a

mother and her daughter.

It’s kind of hard to, like, have a relationship sometimes. I think that’s a big one for me. You know, you meet someone you like and everyone’s always coming and going. They’re going back home and you’re traveling somewhere else and so it’s kind of hard to be together like that. (Jack)

Most of us are single; most of us don’t have kids. But some of us do want kids and some of us do want partners, but it’s very hard to find in this sort of area. (Rick)

As a result of making these choices and sacrifices, many expressed feelings

of guilt and doubt. Some have family pressure to conform to societal norms,

including having a full-time job and the financial security that comes with it, as well

as starting a family. The longer one has spent lifestyle climbing, however, the more

they claimed family support. Over time, they explained, their families have come to

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accept this as a lifestyle, but still hope that it will not be a lifelong endeavor. Kevin

illustrates this and also discusses some of the guilt and self-doubt that comes with

this lifestyle, particularly for the “lifers”. In particular, he notes a frequent questioning

of the self, whether they are climbing well enough, pushing themselves hard enough,

and making the best use of this time.

There’s a lot of pressure; breaking a lot of social norms in how you’re going about it. I don’t I have too much pressure from my family. I think I’ve beat them into submission with it. They’re used to at this point. I know a lot of folks I climb with and travel with, a lot of pressure from friends or family to conform a little more and do a more traditional lifestyle. So, that’s hard. And you do give up a lot. It’s not just running around in the woods and having a good time. It’s really hard. There’s things you want to do on a daily basis that I just can’t do. So you’re constantly weighing the pros and cons. Is what I get out of it worth living how I’m living right now? I think a lot of folks are on the fence. I think it’s a really fun thing for a lot of folks to do for a few years. But it doesn’t really stick. The lifers are something completely different. It’s just hard. Anybody who considers themselves a dirtbag probably deals with it at least a few times a year, if not on a daily basis. A lot of people have a lot of guilt for doing what they’re doing. That’s probably due to the background, that they feel like they shouldn’t be doing what they’re doing. They’re not climbing at a high enough level, or just because of their family pressures they should be doing something different. So it’s hard.

Jack, similarly, explains how over time the lifestyle can become more difficult,

causing questions of doubt to continually re-surface.

I think just like a lot of little things that wear on you. Like, when it’s rainy or when it’s cold. I kind of tell people, sometimes, it’s like every little thing is harder, whether it’s like getting up in the cold and getting dressed to go to work or whether it’s like making dinner when it’s raining out or whether, you know, brushing your teeth to a very small effect. Like everything you do kind of has, like, is just way different than being in a house and having that function. Sometimes your broke and shit is not going well and weather sucks and you’re not climbing, it’s just, ‘why the fuck am I doing this?’ [...] I don’t think I even thought about it then I started this lifestyle. But the more, the longer I do it the more those, like, tough moments, if you want to say it that way, is something that like maybe starts to wear on you a little bit more, you know what I mean. I mean, I’m not that old, but I've worked my body really hard for working and climbing, so it’s like, for me right now, getting out of bed and not being able to stand up in the van to get dressed and my fucking back hurting and my shit everywhere. I guess it’s the little things that just whittle away at you over time.

These topics were most observed in conversations among lifestyle climbers,

suggesting that discussing and managing feelings of guilt and doubt and the

difficulties of living this lifestyle together strengthen a sense of community for the

“lifers”. They also commented on a critical moment all climbers face, usually three to

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four years into this lifestyle, in which they begin to face these questions. As a result

they either leave the lifestyle, ending this transitional phase, or they commit to the

lifestyle more deeply. A couple of the lifestyle climbers interviewed seem to be at this

critical moment, unsure how to proceed. And, Kevin, in particular commented on

this,

I’ve seen them come and go. You can tell who’s not going to make it. They just don’t have the stuff. It’s just not in them, the drive.

Thus, for the “lifers” there is a respect for the dedication that comes with

lifestyle climbing, the daily endurance and commitment to rock climbing. One climber

writes, “Two months is a good road trip, two years is a good vacation, two decades

and you are living the dream" (T53P2). But many of the long-term lifestyle climbers I

encountered do not so much consider it a dream, but a serious commitment. Kevin,

in particular, explained that over time one can lose some enthusiasm for climbing, so

they must assess, again and again, whether they are making the most of the time

this lifestyle affords. Sometimes, he explained, he does not want to go climbing, but

it is his responsibility, his job, now that he has made this lifestyle commitment.

I want to wake up as many mornings as I can and know that I get to do exactly what I want to do. That doesn’t mean, that comes across like saying living like a dirtbag is all peaches and cream. There’s days I wake up that I do NOT want to go rock climbing, I just don’t want to do it, it’s like anything else. But I DO do it because I want the end result. If all the sudden I stop going climbing whenever I want, then it’s negating the purpose. You know what I mean? I’ve made these decisions to climb, if not, then I’m just freeloading, I guess, would be another word that to me comes with a more negative connotation. I want to climb. I want to see what my body will do if I put as much time and energy into as I can.

Yet, despite the fact that many of the “lifers” argue that they are pursuing a

long-term, if not lifelong, goal of lifestyle climbing they also hint at dreams of being

more settled, albeit not sedentary. While most of the long-term lifestyle climbers say

that they could live like this the rest of their lives, they do not like the idea of getting

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older and still living in a completely mobile way. But travel remains an important

aspect of their lives and their identities. Heather explained,

At some point I’d like to have more of a home base, but still travel maybe six months out of the year, instead of all year.

And Leah explained that even though she does not necessarily have a time

frame for how much longer she will be traveling and climbing full-time, (she is

currently in her sixth year on the road) she is certain that she does not want this to

be a lifelong endeavor.

I’ve never met anybody that’s been on the road for a super long time and actually really happy. Those 20-year veterans […] I just want to, I want to be done before I resent it. I’m definitely not hoping to spend my whole life on the road not doing anything, just to spend a lot more time rock climbing.

Again, future aspirations are based on a few life choices. While a love of rock

climbing and travel fuels their lifestyle choice, they also want a family and long-term

relationship at some point, and that seems at odds with their current situation.

Because there are other things that I do want, that I think are mutually exclusive. I like long-term relationships, I want to have a family, whether that means kids or not, I have no idea. But a lot of those things aren’t going to mesh well with dirtbagging. And I know I want those things and those are worth it for me. If something were to happen where I felt differently about that, simply living this lifestyle, yeah, I could do it for a long, long time. (Kevin)

I think at one point you come to realize, I guess some people call it a mid-life crisis or whatever it is in regular life, but I think you come to a point where you realize that time is sort of going by. I’m 34 and I don’t have a house, and I don’t have a real job and I don't have anything to fall back on. At one point what am I going to do? What am I going to do when 45 or 50, am I still going to be single, living in my truck at Miguel’s? I mean, put a bullet in my head, you know. So I don’t know. I think that’s one of the scary things, is the uncertain future. (Rick)

And relationships, like, I’ve been through it, it’s hard to find a partner. Eventually, I'd like to, not really settle down, but to have a family and have kids, that's a problem, I’d be totally tied down, but wanting to go from to place to place, but I don’t know how to do that. (Leslie)

So while pressure to conform to societal norms can bring about guilt, self doubt, and

frustration, the fact that many of the most committed lifestyle climbers eventually do

want something more in their lives – a family or long-term relationship – brings about

a great deal of uncertainty regarding their future aspirations. This suggests the

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temporal framing of this lifestyle choice has significant implications on experience.

For those who are enthusiastic about beginning this lifestyle, whether making plans

to live in a mobile way focused on rock climbing or they have just begun this pursuit,

they are optimistic of its potential. Some veterans describe the novice dirtbags as

“idealistic” or “romantic” as to the day-to-day experiences of lifestyle climbing.

Nevertheless, they also more clearly articulate their goals, particularly in relation to

self. This is especially the case for those who plan to make this only a temporary

lifestyle, to spend a couple of years dedicated to rock climbing before settling down,

going to university or starting a career. Likewise, those who are former dirtbags, that

is, they once lived a fully mobile life focused on climbing, are also optimistic. They

reflect on memories fondly, note important changes in their perceptions of

themselves, particularly in terms of independence and capabilities. And most

recommend taking such a time for oneself.

However, for those in the midst of this lifestyle there is less optimism. This is

because they are living it, day-to-day, including the challenges and

accomplishments. That is not to say that they are pessimistic about their lifestyle

choice, but in fact, are realistic. When asked explicitly, current lifestyle climbers were

able to identify as many aspects that they liked about the lifestyle, as they disliked.

This also points to the utility of performance theories when examining travel

experiences. Many of the difficulties they have encountered were not anticipated

prior to taking up this pursuit, and similarly many of the challenges will be

remembered fondly along side accomplishments. For the most part, current lifestyle

climbers had difficulty reflecting upon their day-to-day experiences, because they are

living them. When asked how they think they will remember this time in their lives,

most only answered generally that these times will be good memories. So while they

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could elaborate on the day-to-day hardships of a mobile lifestyle, they also love rock

climbing, the primary motivation for this pursuit, and the sense of community it

builds, so that they know they will have fond memories of this time. Kevin illustrates

this dialectic, between hardship and fond memories.

So the times I’m always going to remember are sitting around with one other to half dozen other people around a campground that are all there because you want to be there. It’s the shitty days where it’s rained all day, everything you own is wet, it’s the worse possible scenario for dirtbagging, but you’re all there together and there’s no place else you’d rather be.

Interestingly, Jack elaborated on this as well.

Nobody has enough money. You always want something else. I tell people about traveling abroad or taking trips, it’s like, if you’ve got a good opportunity, take it. I would have never gone to Europe or done that shit if I was waiting for the perfect time, you know. I didn’t have enough money to do it, I didn’t have the right shit to do it, I wasn’t fucking prepared, I didn’t know the language, but that’s part of the adventure of it. That’s what is really fun about traveling in those kind of situations. Those situations suck when they’re happening - you’re fucking stuck somewhere and missed some train, you’re out in the middle of nowhere, it’s cold, and you don’t where the fuck you’re at, you can’t understand people. It’s not fun when you’re doing it, but I guess it’s fun to just look back on it, on the little mini-epics you had, little adventures you had. You survived them. You know, some of the fucking worst things that have happened to me are some of the best stories I have, times I’ve gotten hurt climbing or times I had really gnarling epics somewhere, at the time, they’re fucking horrible. There’s nothing I’d rather do than not be there, but you know, you can look back and laugh at it and it’s always a good story.

Thus, for lifestyle climbers it is the moments of challenge, and subsequently

accomplishment or failure, that become most meaningful. More importantly, these

moments occur more in relation to the lifestyle aspects of full-time climbing, rather

than the rock climbing itself. In a Heideggerian (1996) sense, moments of challenge

represent potential “situations” to act with “resoluteness” and achieve “mineness”.

More broadly, Golomb (1995, p. 201) argues that authenticity “is best forged and

revealed in ‘boundary’ or extreme existential situations.” This illuminates some of the

differences between those short-term (one to four years) traveling climbers and the

long-term (five or more years) lifestyle climbers. Those who entered this lifestyle with

a time frame in mind, even if they have exceeded it, began with clearer goals, from

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travel to narrowing down future aspirations, there was an endpoint. Many entered

this lifestyle temporarily seeking out existential “situations” in an effort to discover a

sense of self, and thereby transition towards their future goals. Those who have

taken up this lifestyle permanently or over a longer period of time, however, exhibit a

different mindset. They recall seeking a different way of life or slowly assimilating,

without a clear, decisive moment of change. As a result, the longer-term lifestyle

climbers advocate a particular mindset or attitude to their lifestyle, not specific goals

related to travel or climbing. This suggests dirtbagging is both a lifestyle and a

strategy. The day-to-day lives of these climbers employ a number of dirtbagging

strategies in order to stretch budgets, optimize climbing time, and minimize hours of

work. However, it can also be a strategy in the existential sense, a means of finding

a sense of self, as it presents a climber with frequent challenges, or “situations”, as

well as tremendous amounts of leisure time. What’s more, dirtbagging can also be a

lifestyle, for those who commit to minimalist lifeways, independence, and self-

sufficiency. This latter perspective is best characterized by the work of Camus, as

interpreted by Golomb (1995, p. 174) – “In an effort to shape an authentic life in a

world of immanence, the way is the goal, for there is no goal at the end of the way.”

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CHAPTER SIX: CONCLUSIONS

This research has been informed by three objectives. First, and most broadly, this

research is aimed at understanding the social divisions and travel behavior within the

rock climbing community, with a focus on lifestyle climbers as a subculture. Second,

and more specifically, this project is concerned with investigating the motivations,

goals, and experiences of lifestyle climbers, as a subculture of the climbing

community and a distinct travel phenomenon. The third objective is theoretical in

nature – to interrogate the utility of discursive versus performative theories for

tourism studies, mobility studies, and cultural geography. In what follows each of

these objectives is explored in terms of the conclusions that can be drawn from

findings of this study. And, finally, some areas of potential future research are

elaborated.

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Community dynamics and travel behavior

Taylor’s (2010) history of American rock climbing provides a comprehensive

view of the social evolutions of the climbing community, from its European roots and

introduction to the American wilderness culture through the development of new

technologies following WWII that diversified the sport in numerous unforeseen ways.

The author, along with others, notably Williams and Donnelly (1985), Kiewa (2002),

and Cailly (2006), also investigates the multiple issues that divide this community

from within, including climbing style, ethics, and regionality. This research

contributes to these studies of the rock climbing community by focusing on the

contemporary manifestations of lifestyle climbing. While some of these climbers

identify with the “dirtbag” subculture that developed out of the 1950s Beatnik

generation, others, despite similar life ways, differentiate themselves. These

dedicated climbers illustrate the continual evolution of the rock climbing community,

particularly the roles that outside social forces play on personal motivations for

engaging with this sport as a lifestyle. While each individual climber indicated a deep

reverence for rock climbing, they also enumerated other motivations – social,

political, economic, and existential. This results in layered social divisions and

multiple community identities; for example, climbers were quick to point out the

differences among the weekenders, the locals, and the full-timers. Yet, Kiewa (2002)

explains that while these divisions are blurred within the community, they are

virtually invisible to outsiders. Thus, the identity of a “rock climber” has become an

empty signifier for many climbers, and especially lifestyle climbers. With increased

exposure in popular media, and as a result commodification of the sport, lifestyle

climbers make efforts to distance themselves from this overarching identity and

emphasize the lifestyle components of climbing (see also Wheaton & Beal, 2003).

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As Noy (2004b) and Shaffer (2004) have observed with backpackers and

mass tourists, lifestyle climbers are a particularly performative subculture of the

larger community as they engage exclusionary actions, avoidance tactics, and

territorialization practices. So while Cailly (2006) suggests rock climbers, in general,

form a participatory-based community, with few “rites of entry” or “symbolic violence

or borders”, lifestyle climbers are more exclusive. This suggests the importance of

collecting ethnographic data across multiple scales. While lifestyle climbers use

avoidance tactics and territorialization practices to reduce their encounters with

leisure climbers, various subcultural divisions can be observed at campgrounds

through spatial congregation and separation. These are examples of symbolic

borders within the climbing community, with very few instances of direct

confrontation observed at The Red. However, the online forums of

Rockclimbing.com present a much more contentious atmosphere. In fact, it is the

lifestyle climbers, or “dirtbags”, who become the more prominent targets of “symbolic

violence” in this medium. As Mautner (2005) contends, the Internet offers a space for

the articulation of social relationships and community representations that may not

be observable in person. So while lifestyle climbers use primarily symbolic actions to

communicate social division at The Red, the leisure climbers are more assertive on

online community forums.

An examination of travel behavior by rock climbers also reveals intra-

community dynamics. Travel behavior, that is frequent travel following the climbing

season, is a significant indicator of dedication to this sport. Questionnaire solicitation

of the rock climbing community in eastern Kentucky in the fall of 2011 illustrates that

while all climbers surveyed tend to visit similar locations and even exhibit similar

patterns of visitation, with nearby sites visited most frequently, lifestyle climbers have

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higher frequencies of visitation across all destinations, indicative of their continuous

travel lifestyle. What’s more, many of the lifestyle climbers interviewed, as well as

those on the online forums of Rockclimbing.com, described particular circuits of

destinations they follow throughout the year. Few circuits shared all of the same

destinations, rather most overlap at just one or two places throughout the year.

Yet despite the hypermobility and variations in travel itineraries that result in

spatial diffusion of individuals, lifestyle climbers emphasized the importance of

community. The members of this rock climbing “tribe” expressed a shared and

coherent “set of emotions, values and standards that provide a cornerstone of the

group's identity” (Cailly, 2006, p. 35). Nevertheless, lifestyle climbers do exhibit their

own hierarchies (Cohen, 1985; Taylor, 2010). Dedication to the sport, climbing

proficiency, self-sufficiency, and experience are the most respected characteristics,

while competitiveness and arrogance (or “spraying”) are not tolerated. However,

individuals do use the accomplishments of others as motivation to push their own

limits. Thus, shared values, standards, and the celebration of achievements, as well

as friendly teasing, work as mechanisms of group cohesion. Many lifestyle climbers

also described a mentorship-based entrance to the community, which further builds

relationships of trust and adds cohesion to the group’s values across space.

Moreover, the increasing prevalence of global communications technologies, though

an issue of contestation among lifestyle climbers, also fosters contact among

spatially distant individuals and is becoming more integrated into this community.

Therefore, while lifestyle climbers initially seemed to be a form of communitas of

tourism (Wang, 1999) and pilgrimage (Turner, 1973), this community is not a

temporary circumstance of travel mode. Although membership and congregation can

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be somewhat spontaneous at individual locations, this is a community that stretches

across travel distance and maintains cohesion through shared values and hierarchy.

Motivations and experiences

While most broadly this research examines the dynamics of the rock climbing

community, with particular attention to lifestyle climbers as a subculture, a second,

and more focused, objective concerns the individual motivations, goals, and

experiences of lifestyle climbers. And, as with understanding community dynamics,

investigating the individual subjectivities of lifestyle climbers illustrates the necessity

of employing ethnographic methods across community scales.

Existential authenticity

Rock climbing is most commonly considered a sport, more specifically an

“alternative” sport because of its individualized nature and an “extreme” sport

because of the greater risk associated with participation (Wheaton, 2007; Robinson,

2008). Lifestyle climbers, however, contest this categorization of rock climbing. A

basic definitional component of sport is competition, and these climbers assert that

while climbing can be made competitive, it is not inherently so. Because of the

deeply personal experiences that occur on the rock face, these climbers argued that

rock climbing is more akin to a practice or a game, as the mental obstacles are

equally important to the physical action. This suggests Merleau-Ponty’s (2004)

phenomenological approach is appropriate here – experience exists between the

mind and the body. And while some described a spiritual experience when climbing,

and even more do so on online forums, the majority of lifestyle climbers explained

existential experiences, in particular moments of “flow” (Csikzentmihalyi, 1990).

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Among the most significant findings of this research is that while lifestyle

climbers describe the powerfully existential experiences of climbing as a primary

motivation to take up a lifestyle dedicated to this sport, existential authenticity, that is

in terms of an authentic sense of self, comes more from the lifestyle experiences

than the rock climbing. Besides the desire for frequent engagement with rock

climbing, these lifestyle climbers noted existential motivations. Time for oneself,

particularly a transitional period between university and a career or following a

traumatic event, are examples of motivations for lifestyle climbers who have set out

on a temporary strategy of dirtbagging, with a goal of several years of travel and

climbing before settling down again. These lifestyle climbers, therefore, are most

closely related to backpackers (Shaffer, 2004; O’Reilly, 2006), gap-year tourists

(Noy, 2004a; 2004b), and long-term budget travelers (Riley, 1988). The most

committed individuals described seeking an entirely new lifestyle, and as a result

they are focused on long-term travel, rock climbing, and a minimalist lifestyle of

many years to decades, and for some a lifetime. Thus, these individuals most closely

related to the lifestyle travelers of Cohen’s work (2010a; 2010b; 2011), as they

exhibit “a de-differentiation of everyday life and tourist experiences” (2011, p. 1537).

Wang (1999) proposed the concept of existential authenticity as an activity-

based approach to overcome the limitations of object-oriented perspectives

(objective, constructive, postmodern) when applied to the tourist experience. In order

to understand the feelings, emotions, and sensations of tourism, as they affect the

authenticity of the self, existential authenticity engages the subjective. Yet,

development of this concept for tourism studies has been limited to Heideggerian

notions of the concept. Engaging Steiner and Reisinger’s (2006) Heideggerian

approach to existential authenticity does have much to offer, as this research finds

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support for Heidegger’s (1996) concepts of “”mineness”, “resoluteness”, and

“situation”. For these lifestyle climbers existential authenticity is transient and

momentary, a product of “situations” of challenge on the rock face, in nature, at

campsites, and on the road, whereby they encounter opportunities to act with

“resoluteness” and achieve “mineness”. Because this lifestyle results in more

frequent encounters with such situations, the longer one has been lifestyle climbing

the more they noted changes in a sense of self, especially in regards to feeling

comfortable in their own bodies, more confident and self-sufficient, and a part of

community.

Like much work on existential authenticity in tourism, such analysis runs the

risk of overlooking the role of real, physical places in this subjective experience.

Belhassen et al., (2008) argue that what has been obscured in this increasingly

subjective investigation of authenticity is “the influence of real physical places, with

shared, collectively authored meanings” which contextualize the “broader nexus of

socio-spatial relations surrounding the journey” (p. 668-669). Thus, it is argued that

place matters in the experience of existential authenticity. Moreover, place is the

foundation of the “situations” of existential potential. Golomb (1995, p. 201) asserts,

“Most accounts of authenticity are modelled on the aesthetic ideal of creativity:

spontaneous creation of one’s self and life. Yet no creativity is possible without the

social and cultural context that provides the raw material one uses.” Place is more

than a physical space, but shaped by cultural and social interactions, perceptions,

and subjective experiences. Thus, these climbers encounter existential situations in

distinct places – on the rock face, in nature, at campsites, and on the road.

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Place as encounters

Considering together the community dynamics, hypermobile travel behavior,

and existential experiences of lifestyle climbers calls into question notions of place.

Relph’s (1976) concept of “placelessness”, formulated on the Heideggerian notions

of authenticity and inauthenticity, suggests that increased mobility together with

‘mass culture’ diminish authentic relations to places. Augé (1995) embraces the

hypermobility of postmodernity; yet, in so doing he concedes to the idea of “non-

places”, characterized by transience, ephemerality, and fleeting culture. And,

likewise, Thrift (1996, p. 289) argues that in this “in-between” world place is

compromised, “permanently in a state of enunciation [...] always deferred [...] a world

of third order simulacra.” Simonsen (2008), however, is skeptical of these views,

instead reasoning that while mobility affects place, “the relationships between them

should be seen, not as one of erosion, but as a complex intertwining contributing to

the construction of both” (p. 14; see also Massey, 1994; Baerenholdt & Granas,

2008).

Lifestyle climbers have provided a useful case in which to investigate the

issues of mobility, non-representational theory, and place. While touristic

engagement with place is most commonly considered within a framework of the

tourist leaving home, touring destinations, and returning home, in the context of

lifestyle travel performative notions of place challenge the dichotomies of

home/away, work/leisure, and self/other. Lifestyle travel extends beyond the

accepted definitional boundaries of tourism, as these tourists have made traveling a

long-term pursuit, lasting years to decades, so that their travel experiences and

everyday become one and the same (Cohen 2011).

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So while Simonsen (2008) contends that the theoretical starting point of place

is specificity, in particular the spatiality and temporality of practices, she is not

suggesting that place is a bounded area or static container of experience and

meaning (see also Massey, 1994; 2005). Rather, “place is a specific conjunction of

social practices and social relations, it will consist of particular interweavings or

networks which have over time been constructed, consolidated, decayed, and

renewed” (2008, p. 16). A dynamic understanding of place, such as this, allows for

the possibility of meaningful connections at various scales and the potential of a

“global sense of place” (Massey, 1994). Despite its openness to global networks, the

dynamism of this approach, as opposed to a passive or static notion of place,

continues to offer the potential of authenticity, in the Heideggerian sense of “being-

in-the world”, albeit not as “dwelling” (Simonsen, 2008). Thus, it is argued that place

is established by lifestyle climbers as a result of, rather than despite, their mobility.

It is through the process of embodiment, in particular, that climbing

destinations become places for these lifestyle climbers. Drawing on the work of

Merleau-Ponty and Lefebvre, Simonsen (2008) argues that the concept of

embodiment is an essential operation of the constitution of place. Because Merleau-

Ponty’s existential phenomenology emphasizes lived experience, it suggests the

body is part of a pre-discursive social realm. In terms of relations with space and

time, Merleau-Ponty (2004) argued that human bodies are spatialities of position and

situation so that our bodies are not in space/time but inhabit it. Through bodily

performance, place is actively constructed as the current position of the ever-

changing world. So while bodies inhabit space, they also produce space. According

to Lefebvre (1991), there is “a material basis to the production of space consisting of

the spatial body that both is and has its space” (Simonsen, 2008, p. 18). Thus to

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conceive of the body as both “produced and as the production of space” also

suggests it is subject to the “determinants of that space” (1991, p. 195).

Embodiment, therefore, constitutes place as a result of the “lived experience” of

“inhabiting” space.

For lifestyle climbers, it is the act of rock climbing that constitutes place. What

is but a sublime rock face and the point of gazing for most becomes a space of

experience for rock climbers. Gazing upon a rock face, routes are seen through their

trained eyes and are put into action through the performance of climbing (Nettlefold

& Stratford, 1999; Taylor, 2006; 2010; Ness, 2011). What is inaccessible space to

many of us becomes place through its embodiment – hands and feet find the

appropriate holds to propel the climber upward and in so doing existential moments

of “timelessness” and “flow” are achieved.

At its foundation, the performance of climbing routes transforms the space of

the rock face into a climbing place. These climbing performances, while embodied

as lived experience, are also narrated. Much of a lifestyle climber’s day is spent off

the rock, engaged in conversation where they discuss what they climbed that day or

are going to climb the next. This includes recitation and rehearsal of portions or even

the entire route, from the starting holds, through the crux, to the anchors. Along with

verbal descriptions, they also physically perform parts of the routes, throwing their

hands in the direction of the moves they describe, accompanied by movements with

appropriate sounds – grunts, gasps, cheers. So while the act of climbing produces

places of intimate knowledge, sensation, and lived experience, through performing

these spaces the climbing body is also produced (see also Lewis, 2000). As Rossiter

(2007) explains, just as the climber can modify the rock and its surroundings, so too

can the rock shape the climber’s body. Through frequent interaction with climbing

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spaces, muscles are strengthened, especially in the arms, chest and core, and

fingers, hands, and forearms are scratched, calloused, and scarred from grabbing

holds and jamming appendages into cracks. Thus, Lewis (2000, p. 75) argues, “the

practice of rock climbing cultivates the body towards a better configuration for

climbing.” That is, climbing places are emotionally, socially, and physically

embodied.

Embodiment of place also occurs through emotional operations of space

(Simonsen, 2008). The social body, that is a body being with “other” bodies, is

affected by emotional operations of space, particularly in terms of power relations,

proximity, imaginary relations (friendly/strange), familiar bodies (sense of

community), and so on. “Emotional operations, then, can be the way in which places

live and are inscribed into our bodies in the form of general attunement, attachment

or familiarity, but they also constitute place through attitudes to the other in the form

of enthusiasm and joy or border anxiety, distancing, and construction of boundaries”

(Simonsen, 2008, p. 20). Together, these climbing bodies form a community and

their collective action shapes climbing places through a series of territorialization

practices. Through the establishment of a neo-community, or what Kiewa (2002)

refers to a “neo-tribe”, Cailly (2006) observes a series of spatial and symbolic

practices that result in the “quasi privatization of a public space”. Extending beyond

the rock face, climbers carve out territories where they perform community. For

example, along with those climbers who live in the Red River Gorge area

permanently, the lifestyle climbers who repeatedly spend months of the year here

also consider themselves “locals”, as they shape the region’s cultural reputation, as

well as the physical spaces of climbing through cleaning rock faces and participating

in trail days. Climbing places are embodied not only by individuals but by the

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community, and the most frequent destinations develop “scenes”, with reputations

known throughout the larger rock climbing community. Lifestyle climbers explained

that while one needs time with an area to learn the regional characteristics of the

rock, or the “medium”, this time also builds community bonds so that repeated visits

results in a “rooted sense”, despite only short durations.

These climbers do not spend weeks to months in a single destination for

the local culture or the natural scenery, but foremost for the quality of climbing it

offers and secondly for the community. Examination of the forums on

Rockclimbing.com reveals a nearly limitless number of combinations, as dozens of

climbers post their preferred circuits with very few overlapping at more than one or

two points. Nevertheless, these traveling rock climbers repeatedly tell stories of

encounters with familiar climbers in unexpected locations. And within the social

gatherings at these destinations, narratives about climbing experiences are

exchanged. Simonsen (2008) argues narrative is another constitutive operation of

place, as places are storied spaces. Just as travel narratives can act as cultural

capital within some backpacker communities (Noy, 2004a; 2004b), destination

narratives are exchanged in climbing conversations transforming spaces of potential

into storied places.

By grounding this study of lifestyle climbers in the Red River Gorge of

Kentucky, most climbers’ narratives of travel and rock climbing began at this

location. They described their last climbing destination and where they would be

going next. The Red was the pivotal, present point of their autobiographical

narratives. While these travel narratives are used as cultural capital among lifestyle

climbers, narratives of time spent in The Red are also used as social capital while at

this particular location. Thus, these destinations are points of encounters and

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community gathering, but it is the practice of rock climbing that constitutes these

spaces as places for this mobile community.

While Thrift (1999, p. 312) emphasizes the ephemerality of the relation

between increased mobility and place, suggesting place is best described as

“passings”, that is, “taking shape only in their passing”. This research is better

reflected by Tuan’s (1978, p.14) argument that “place is a pause in movement”.

Places, for these lifestyle climbers, are not mere “’passings’ that haunt us’ (Thrift,

1999, p. 312), but are the result of embodiment, from the performance of rock

climbing, community, and narration. Lifestyle climbers are dedicated to the full-time

pursuit of rock climbing, and as a result they spend much of their time traveling

between destinations. Nevertheless, they encounter place; in fact, they produce it.

Moreover, while Heideggerian notions of “authenticity” and “inauthenticity” are

at the heart of many concerns regarding a loss of place (see Relph, 1976; Auge,

1999), understanding place as encounters reaffirms the potential for authenticity. In

so doing, we move away from authenticity as “dwelling” and emphasize the

intersubjective, the relations of performances of place. As Crouch (2002, p. 214)

argues, the traveler “makes lay knowledge through a complexity of awareness that is

immediate, diffuse, and interactive [...] we ‘know’ places bodily and through an active

intersubjectivity.”

Discursive versus performative approaches

This research has been informed by both discursive and performative theories,

and therefore has utilized respective methodologies, in an effort to uncover the

limitations and complementarity of these two approaches.

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Discourse, according to Foucault, is a communicative action or device that

incorporates notions of power, genealogy, and truth. As such, discursive analytical

perspectives examine events, conversations, and representations as texts which can

be read, and therefore analyzed, so as to reveal their effects on the production,

communication, and circulation of social knowledge (Waitt, 2005). For this project,

discourse analysis was an important part of the investigation of community

dynamics. By comparing online forums of Rockclimbing.com and observational data

gathered in Red River Gorge, Kentucky, I was able to speak about the social

production of the “dirtbag” identity, the dynamics of the rock climbing community, in

general, and lifestyle climbers, specifically, and the role of the increased prevalence

of telecommunications on this mobile lifestyle. Moreover, discourse analysis offered

insight into the commodification of this sport and its experience, through magazines,

clothing brands, and film, especially regarding the spiritual experiences of rock

climbing.

While discourse analysis pairs well with qualitative analysis software, as it

lends itself to the use of keywords for coding representations (fieldnotes) of events

and transcriptions of interviews and online forums, I encountered limitations when

utilizing this perspective to understand the experiences of lifestyle climbers

individually and collectively. Therefore, performative methodologies were useful to

understand the daily lives of these climbers, in particular, the unrepresentable and

sometimes mundane moments of day-to-day life. Moreover, performance-based

theories, particularly non-representational theory, were essential to grasping the

landscape experiences of climbers, embodiment processes, and performances of

place. Yet, non-representational theory did not offer a framework for investigating

travel patterns and behaviors.

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As a result, I have found it most fruitful to combine both discursive and

performative perspectives to examine the motivations, behavior, and experiences of

lifestyle climbers. For example, while discourse analysis of online forums highlighted

the motivations of ambitious climbers as they wrote about preparations to take up

this mobile lifestyle, as well as reflections and memories by former “dirtbags”, there

was little online participation by current lifestyle climbers. What’s more, most

conversational threads began and ended years ago. They offered minimal insight

into those in the midst of this pursuit. As such, using performative methods allowed

me to engage with contemporary lifestyle climbers. This proved essential, as it

revealed discrepancies among the expectations, memories, and everyday lives of

these climbers. Likewise, online forums suggested a nearly vitriolic atmosphere

among the numerous subcultures that make up the larger climbing community, as

there seemed to be no reservation to use the harshest of language against one

another. On the ground, however, this was not the case. There was division,

contestation, and sometimes conflict. Most often avoidance tactics were used, and in

the instances of direct confrontation it was issue-based, not identity-based.

Although there are clearly instances in which discursive or performative

approaches alone would be appropriate, in studies that aim to uncover the social,

cultural, and experiential dynamics of travel phenomena, such as this, more than

one perspective is required. Furthermore, by pairing these analytical approaches, a

more nuanced understanding is gleaned, as they, in many ways, counter-balance

one another. That is, discursive and performative perspectives frequently call into

question the findings of the other, thus making for more robust conclusions.

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Future Research

As with most projects, this research has raised more questions than it has

answered. There are several lines of inquiry that been revealed in relation to the two

primary research objectives. Some of the more salient issues have been chosen for

elaboration here, but there are numerous ideas that could be developed from this

work.

First, this research suggests a deeper investigation of regionality within the

climbing community would be worthwhile. Analysis of the questionnaire data, in

particular, suggests the need for future research regarding the effects of regionality

and climbing preferences on travel behavior and patterns. Having focused on just

one location – Red River Gorge, Kentucky – a strong regionality to the travel

patterns, with nearby areas in West Virginia and Tennessee as prominent as the

most popular climbing destinations in the country, was evidenced. Therefore, future

research to survey climbers at a series of destinations, such as Yosemite to access

the West Coast circuit, Boulder for the Colorado climbers, Hueco Tanks to include

the bouldering demographic, and the Shawangunk Mountains in New York as an

East Coast destination, would allow for the examination of the relations among

regionality, climbing style, and travel behavior influences. Moreover, an examination

of the variation of climbing ethic by region would further develop our understanding

of rock climbing identities.

And from this, a second area of future research suggests a deeper

examination of the subcultural divisions. While this project has focused on the

individual subjectivities of lifestyle climbers, an analysis of these same data with an

eye to the demographics, including age, time climbing/traveling, and gender may be

useful to uncover structural drivers. Motivations, expectations, and reasons for

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leaving this lifestyle may be more thoroughly revealed in an investigation of

structural, as well as individual, forces on decision making. Likewise, turning to the

broader climbing community in relation to cyber-communities, further investigation of

the role of online forums in community building and maintenance, as well as

community divisions, would be quite interesting.

Third, while much of the work in tourism studies regarding the concept of

existential authenticity has utilized a Heideggerian perspective, this research

suggests other existentialists’ theories of the self and authenticity may be useful for

developing a more robust concept. Some initial thoughts on a few of the prominent

existentialists are offered in terms of lifestyle climbers’ experiences.

Golomb (1995) informs his understanding of existential authenticity by drawing

on the work of several philosophers, notably Kierkegaard, Nietzsche, Heidegger,

Sartre, and Camus. However, each of these existentialists focuses on different

aspects of the concept. Kierkegaard and Nietzsche, for example, argued that

authenticity is only found within the individual, away from society, whereas Sartre

contended that authenticity is in the intersubjective. Merleau-Ponty’s (2004)

phenomenological approach, as discussed above, has much to offer examinations of

the body in tourism, as well as sport (see for example Chisholm, 2008). And Camus,

while he does not self-identify as an existentialist, is grouped with them because of

his emphasis on an authentic mode of living.

The existential moments that add to an authentic self for lifestyle climbers are

not always enjoyable experiences; in fact, they are usually difficult and

uncomfortable, such as vehicle breakdowns, limited food budgets, and injury.

Therefore, many lifestyle climbers are continually reassessing their decision to live a

life dedicated to rock climbing. To Kierkegaard (1938, p. 15), however, too much

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self-reflection can lead to paralysis, “being without passion has lost all feeling for

enthusiasm and sincerity”. In other words, authenticity requires action and action

requires passion and sincerity. Kierkegaard, however, was explicitly referring to an

authentic faith, suggesting his philosophy is somewhat limiting when considering

lifestyle climbers collectively, particularly those who do not have a spiritual

experience while climbing. Nevertheless, Golomb (1995, p. 201) argues,

“[a]uthenticity calls for an ongoing life of significant actions. It is actions that shape

our authenticity.” Moreover, I would add, authenticity is performative (see also

Knudsen & Waade, 2010).

Nietzsche did not use the term “authenticity”, yet Golomb argues his concepts

of “complete immanence”, “truthfulness”, and “self-overcoming” should be added to

such discussions. Since for Nietzsche there is no “pre-established harmony”, no

“pure reason”, emphasis should be on the creation of a genuine self, through “self-

overcoming”. Becoming one’s true self is a perpetual movement of self-overcoming,

a pathos, with authenticity “a predicate not of character or the self, but merely of acts

and pathos. It describes acts but not constant essences” (Golomb, 1995, p. 82).

Thus, Nietzsche too indicates the performative of existential authenticity. Many

lifestyle climbers are performing the antithesis of what they see as problematic, or

inauthentic, societal norms by living minimalist lifestyles dedicated to a sport about

which they are passionate.

Camus, like Nietzsche, rejects transcendence and advocates acceptance and

affirmation of life. Moreover, he supports a performative notion of authenticity. “In an

effort to shape an authentic life in a world of immanence, the way is the goal, for

there is no goal at the end of the way” (Golomb, 1995, p. 174). This resonates with

the lifestyle climbers interviewed for this research as the more veteran climbers, in

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particular, argued that there is a mindset one must maintain to contently live this

lifestyle, characterized by freedom from constraining and overly specific travel and

climbing goals.

But unlike Nietzsche, Camus writes with more attention to authenticity within

society rather than despite it. “Only within the framework of human community is

authenticity viable. Self-overcoming and creation of one’s self can be performed with

others but not against them” (Golomb, 1995, p. 189). And, likewise, Golomb

suggests, “meaningful activity is only possible in the context of intersubjective

interaction, namely, within society” (1995, p.201), and for these climbers community

is an essential part of their lifestyle. Not only does a climber require a partner, but

this small and rather exclusive community offers climbers shared reverence for the

sport, values, standards, and support.

Sartre argued that authenticity is found in the intersubjective, and therefore

requires social interaction. “It is not in some hiding-place that we will discover

ourselves; it is on the road, in the town, in the midst of the crowd, a thing among

things, a man among men”, he states (2002, p.383). In fact, Sartre took up political

action to work against the structural incentives that he argued lead to acts of “bad

faith” between people, as he had come to believe, “only by action, by changing the

world, can the self be created” (Golomb, 1995, p. 140). And building from Nietzsche,

Sartre believed authentic states are instantaneous, not permanent, but experienced

as relations between individuals. So while earlier forms of lifestyle climbers did

experience a greater degree of social isolation, today’s lifestyle climbers embrace,

and many depend on, this spatially diffuse community as a source of collective

identity and belonging. As a result, many expressed the difficulty of returning to a

more settled life, in which they fear returning to inauthentic and alienating social

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norms, and therefore are working towards a career and livelihood that will allow them

to continue traveling and climbing frequently.

A fourth and final area of future research considers the complex of

experiences and explanations these climbers offered of rock climbing. Further

investigation of the variation of the definition of this activity would be worthwhile.

These climbers suggest rock climbing can be defined as a game, a practice, a

meditation, as well as spiritual. This, therefore, also raises questions as to notions of

sacred space and pilgrimage. In particular, the deeply personal experiences on the

rock face, the ritual practices by climbers, and their territorialization practices

suggest a sacredness to rock climbing places, even if there is not a spiritual

experience for each individual climber.

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APPENDIX A: MAP OF RED RIVER GORGE CLIMBING AREA

(Ellington, 2007; Used with permission.)

198

APPENDIX B: INTERVIEW QUESTIONS

1. How long have you been climbing? 2. What style of climbing do you prefer (traditional, sport, bouldering)?

- Do you engage in ice climbing or mountaineering? - Tell me about rock climbing. What do you like about climbing? - How long you think you will climb? - What other sports activities do you engage in?

3. Have you heard the term “dirtbag” used among climbers? - What is a dirtbag? - What makes a dirtbag unique in the community? - Is the title of dirtbag a good or bad label? - What are negative views of the dirtbag among other climbers? - Have you ever been called, or do you consider yourself, a dirtbag? - If not a dirtbag, what would you call this?

4. Why did you decide to start climbing full-time? 5. Would you describe this as a lifestyle, strategy, or something else? 6. What do you like best about this lifestyle? What do you like least? 7. How important is the element of travel to this pursuit?

- Did you travel frequently as a child, when you were younger? 8. What are some of the keys to being successful? 9. Do you think there is a network or circuit of friendly destinations?

- If so, do you follow this circuit? - Where do you travel throughout the year? Do you have favorite places for

different times of the year? - Who do you interact with when you travel – other climbers, other

travelers/dirtbags, locals? 10. How do you keep in touch with friends and family? 11. How long do you plan to travel and climb? 12. Do you think you are you a tourist? If not, how would you describe your travel

patterns? 13. Do you think you have changed over the course of your travels?

- If so, in what ways are you different? 14. How do you want to remember this time in your life? 15. What do you think about the changing gender dynamics of climbing?

- Why do you think there are fewer women climbing full-time?

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APPENDIX C: QUESTIONNAIRE Years climbing _______

Part 1: The following questions address some basic demographic and climbing style information. Gender: Male / Female Age _________ Occupation ____________________________ Highest level of education completed _________________________________________________ Hometown _________________________ Current Residence __________________________ Favorite Climbing Area _____________________________________________________________ Climbing Style: Traditional Sport Bouldering Other: ___________________________ What is the amount of time you spend climbing? __________hrs /week Have you ever travelled just to climb? Yes / No If yes, how frequently do you do this? _________________________________________________ What is your longest extended climbing trip? _________________________________________ Do your climbing trips ever include multiple destinations? Yes / No If yes, what was your most extensive trip? ______________________________________________ ________________________________________________________________________________ Have you ever made sacrifices in order to climb? Yes / No If yes, what is the most you have given up? ______________________________________________ _________________________________________________________________________________ Part 2: In this section, please indicate which of these areas you have climbed at, the style(s) of climbing you engaged in, and the general time period of your most recent visit.

SITE TIME PERIOD TRAD SPORT BOULDERING OTHER White Mts, NH

Adirondacks, NY

Shawangunks, NY

Seneca Rocks, WV

New River Gorge, WV

Stone Mountain, NC

Looking Glass, NC

Sandrock, AL

Chattanooga, TN

Ozark Mts, AR

The Needles, SD

Devil’s Tower, WY

Tetons, WY

Wind Rivers, WY

Vedauwoo, WY

Rocky Mountain NP, CO

Boulder, CO

200

Rifle, CO

Black Canyon, CO

Moab, UT

Salt Lake City, UT

Zion NP, UT

Sandia Peak, NM

Organ Mts, NM

Hueco Tanks, TX

Cochise Stronghold, AZ

Mount Lemmon, AZ

Superstition Mts, AZ

Granite Mountain, AZ

Paradise Forks, AZ

Virgin River Gorge, AZ

Las Vegas, NV

Tahquitz Rock, CA

Joshua Tree NP, CA

The Needles, CA

Mount Whitney, CA

Yosemite NP, CA

Tahoe, CA

Smith Rock, OR

Leavenworth, WA

North Cascades, WA

Sawtooths, ID

City of Rocks, ID

Other sites:

Other comments:

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APPENDIX D: DISSERTATION RESEARCH COMMITTEE

Chair: Daniel Knudsen, Professor, Department of Geography, Indiana University Committee: Dennis Conway, Professor Emeritus, Department of Geography, Indiana University Charles Greer, Associate Professor Emeritus, Department of Geography, Indiana University Dallen Timothy, Professor, School of Community Resources and Development, Arizona State University; Adjunct Professor, Department of Geography, Indiana University Minor representative: Edward Linenthal, Professor, Department of History; Adjunct Professor, American Studies and Department of Religious Studies, Landscape Studies PhD Minor Faculty, Indiana University

CURRICULUM VITAE

Education Ph.D. Candidate, Department of Geography, Indiana University Dissertation: On Lifestyle Climbers: An Examination of Rock Climbing Dedication, Community, and Travel Advisor: Dr. Daniel Knudsen 2008 M.A. Geography, Indiana University Thesis: Authenticity and Heritage Experience in a Symbolic Tourist Landscape: Spring Mill Pioneer Village Advisor: Dr. Charles Greer 2005 B.A. Indiana University, Majors: Biology, Geography Academic Employment Associate Instructor, Indiana University, Department of Geography, January 2006 – July 2012 Research Assistant, Dr. Daniel Knudsen, Indiana University, August 2005 – August 2006 FELLOWSHIPS, GRANTS, AWARDS AND RECOGNITION Fellowships 2011 Indiana University College of Arts and Sciences Dissertation Year

Research Fellowship ($18,000) 2009 Departmental Graduate Student Fellowship Award, Department of

Geography, Indiana University ($1000) 2007 Departmental Graduate Student Fellowship Award, Department of

Geography, Indiana University ($500) 2005 REU - Research Experience for Undergraduates Fellowship, Department of

Biology, Indiana University, summer term Grants 2012 Women in Science Program (WISP) Travel Grant – AAG Conference, New

York, NY ($300) 2012 Landscape Studies Travel Grant – AAG Conference, New York, NY -

“Authenticity and Tourism Studies: Place Matters” ($250) 2011 Graduate and Professional Student Organization (GPSO) Travel Grant –

Advancing the Social Science of Tourism Conference, University of Surrey, UK ($250)

2011 Landscape Studies Travel Grant – AAG Conference, Seattle, WA - “’Dirtbags’: Rock Climbing, Transience and Identity” ($250)

2010 Landscape Studies Travel Grant – AAG Conference, Washington, D.C. - “Authenticity and Aura: A Benjaminian Approach to Tourism Experience” ($250)

2009 Landscape Studies Travel Grant– AAG Conference, Las Vegas, NV - “Background to the Fore: The Prominence of the Prosaic in Touristic Experience of Place” ($250)

2008 Women in Science Program (WISP) Travel Grant – AAG conference, Boston, MA ($300)

Awards 2012 AAG – Recreation, Tourism and Sport (RTS) Student Paper

Competition, 1st Place – “Authenticity and Tourism Studies: Place Matters” ($150)

2010 Alumni Associate Instructor Teaching Award, Department of Geography, Indiana University ($1000)

2009 Stephen S. Visher Award - Outstanding Paper on Indiana, Department of Geography, Indiana University: “Authenticity and Heritage Experience in a Symbolic Tourist Landscape: Spring Mill Pioneer Village” ($500)

2007 – 2012 Chairman’s Graduate Student Recognition Award, Department of Geography, Indiana University

2006 Undergraduate Thomas F. Barton Award ($100), Department of Geography, Indiana University

RESEARCH, PUBLICATIONS AND PRESENTATIONS Refereed Publications Rickly-Boyd, J.M. (in review) Existential Authenticity: Place Matters. Tourism Geographies Rickly-Boyd, J.M. (in review) “It’s supposed to be 1863 but it’s really not”: Inside the Representation and Communication of History at Pioneer Heritage Site, International Journal of Heritage Studies Knudsen, D.C., Rickly-Boyd, J.M., and C.E. Greer (in review) Tourism Sites and the Projection of Power: The Case of Frederiksstaden in Copenhagen, Denmark, National Identities Rickly-Boyd, J.M. (In press) Lifestyle Climbing: Towards Existential Authenticity, Journal of Sport & Tourism, Special Issue: Experiencing Sport Tourism

Rickly-Boyd, J.M. (2012) “Through the magic of authentic reproduction”: Tourists’ perceptions of authenticity in a pioneer village, Journal of Heritage Tourism, 7(2): 127-144. Knudsen, D. C., & Rickly-Boyd, J. M. (2012). Tourism Sites as Semiotic Signs: A Critique. Annals of Tourism Research, 39(2), 1252-1254. Rickly-Boyd, J.M. (2012) Authenticity & Aura: A Benjaminian Approach, Annals of Tourism Research, 39(1): 269-289. Rickly-Boyd, J.M. (2010) The Tourist Narrative, Tourist Studies. 9(3): 259-280. Rickly-Boyd, J. M., & Metro-Roland, M. (2010). Background to the Fore: The Prosaic in Tourist Places. Annals of Tourism Research. 37(4): 1164-1180. Rickly-Boyd, J.M. (2009) Establishing Authenticity in a Tourist Landscape: Spring Mill Pioneer Village, Material Culture. 41(1): 1-16. Books Knudsen, D., Rickly-Boyd, J.M., Metro-Roland, M.M., and L.C. Braverman. (in progress) Tourism, Performance and Place: A Geographic Perspective. Ashgate. Chapters in Edited Volumes Rickly-Boyd, J.M. (submitted) “Dirtbags”: Mobility, Community and Rock Climbing as Performative of Identity. Lifestyle Mobilities and Corporealities. Duncan, T., Cohen, S., & Thulemark, M. (Eds.) Ashgate Publishers. Knudsen, D.C., Metro-Roland, M.M. and J.M. Rickly-Boyd (2012, in press) Landscape Studies and Tourism Research, Handbook of Landscape Research, Routledge. Knudsen, D.C., Rickly-Boyd, J.M. and M.M. Metro-Roland (2011) Landscape Perspectives on Tourism Geographies, New Perspectives in Tourism Geographies, Routledge. Greer, C., Donnelly, S., and J.M. Rickly (2008) Landscape Perspective for Tourism Studies, Landscape, Tourism, and Meaning. Knudsen, D., Metro-Roland, M., Soper, A.K., and Greer, C.E. (ed.), Aldershot, Hampshire: Ashgate. Yespembetova, A., Rickly, J.M. and L.C. Braverman (2008) Tourism as a Reconnection to the Neolithic Past: The Tamgaly Rock Paintings of Kazakhstan. Landscape, Tourism, and Meaning. Knudsen, D., Metro-Roland, M., Soper, A.K., and Greer, C.E. (ed.), Aldershot, Hampshire: Ashgate.

Other Publications Rickly-Boyd, J.M. (2011) Review: The Tourism Encounter: Fashioning Latin American Nations & Histories. Annals of Tourism Research. 38(3): 1208-1209. Papers at Professional Meetings Rickly-Boyd, J.M. and Knudsen, D.C. “Semiotics, Identity, Ideology, and Tourism Destination Marketing”, Paper presented at Travel and Tourism Research Association, June 17-19, 2012, Virginia Beach, VA. Rickly-Boyd, J.M. “Lifestyle Climbing: Place as Encounters”, Paper presented at the 6th Annual Landscape, Space and Place Graduate Student Conference in Landscape Studies, Indiana University, March 22-23, 2012. Rickly-Boyd, J.M. “Place Matters: Authenticity and Tourism Studies”, Paper presented at the 108th Annual Meeting of the Association of American Geographers. February 24-28, 2012, New York, New York. Rickly-Boyd, J.M. “Rock Climbing, Transience and Community: ‘Dirtbag’ as a Performance of Identity”, Paper presented at the IV International Critical Tourism Studies Conference, July 2-5, 2011. Cardiff School of Management, Wales. Rickly-Boyd, J.M. “Authenticity and Tourism Studies”, Paper presented at the Advancing the Social Science of Tourism Conference, June 28 – July 1, 2011. University of Surrey, UK. Knudsen, D.C. and J.M. Rickly-Boyd. “The Tourism Site as Sign”, Paper presented at Travel and Tourism Research Association, June 19-21, 2011, London, ON Canada – presenter Daniel C. Knudsen. Rickly-Boyd, J.M. “’Dirtbags’: Rock Climbing, Transience and Identity”, Paper presented at the 107th Annual Meeting of the Association of American Geographers, April 12-16, 2011, Seattle, Washington. Rickly-Boyd, J.M. “Authenticity and Aura: A Benjaminian Approach to Tourism Experience”, Paper presented at the 106th Annual Meeting of the Association of American Geographers, April 14-18, 2010, Washington, D.C. Knudsen, D.C., Rickly-Boyd, J.M. and M. M. Metro-Roland. “Landscape, Aesthetics, Mythology”, Paper Presented at the 99th Annual Meeting of the Society for the Advancement of Scandinavian Study, Madison, Wisconsin, April 30-May 2, 2009 – presenter Daniel C. Knudsen Rickly-Boyd, J.M. and M. M. Metro-Roland, “Background to the Fore: The Prominence of the Prosaic in Touristic Experience of Place”, Paper presented at the 105th Annual Meetings of the Association of American Geographers, March 22-27, 2009, Las Vegas, Nevada – presenter Jillian M. Rickly-Boyd

Hayes, J.J., Greer, C.E., Donnelly, S. and J.M. Rickly-Boyd, “Landscape and Complexity Theory” Paper presented at the 105th Annual Meetings of the Association of American Geographers, March 22-27, 2009, Las Vegas, Nevada – presenter James J. Hayes Rickly-Boyd, J.M., “The Tourist Narrative: At the Nexus of Spatial and Temporal Touristic Experience”, Paper presented at the Annual Meetings of the Association of American Geographers - West Lakes, - Indiana University, November, 13-15, 2008 Rickly, J.M., “Authenticity and Experience in a Tourist Landscape: Spring Mill Pioneer Village”, Paper presented at the 104th Annual Meetings of the Association of American Geographers, April 15-19, 2008, Boston, Massachusetts Rickly, J.M., “Authenticity and the Symbolic Tourist Landscape: Spring Mill Pioneer Village”, Paper presented at the 2nd Annual Landscape, Space and Place Graduate Student Conference in Landscape Studies - Indiana University. March, 20-21, 2008 Rickly, J.M., “Examining the Importance of Authenticity in a Tourist Landscape: Spring Mill Pioneer Village”, Session Chair, Paper presented at 6th Annual Hawaii International Conference on Arts and Humanities, January 11-14, 2008 Greer, C., Donnelly, S., Hayes, J.J. and J.M. Rickly. “Landscape as Embodied Energy: Ecosystem Perspectives on the Human-Environment Relationship” Paper presented at Emerging Energies, Emerging Landscapes: Revisioning the Past, Constructing the Future. European Science Foundation Exploratory Workshop. Paris, June 6 - 8, 2007- presenter Charles Greer Rickly, J.M., “Examining Authenticity and the Symbolic in a Tourist Landscape: Spring Mill Pioneer Village”, Paper presented at the 103rd Annual Meetings of the Association of American Geographers, April 17-20, 2007, San Francisco, California Greer, C., Donnelly, S. Hayes, J.J., and J.M. Rickly “Landscape as Embodied Energy” Paper presented at the 103rd Annual Meetings of the Association of American Geographers, April 17-20, 2007, San Francisco, California, Presenter Charles Greer. Donnelly, S., Greer, C., Hayes, J.J. and J.M. Rickly “Landscape as Embodied Energy” Paper presented at the1st Annual Graduate Student Conference in Landscape Studies, Indiana University - Bloomington, April 6, 2007- presenter Shanon Donnelly. Rickly, J.M., “Establishing Authenticity in a Tourist Landscape: Spring Mill Pioneer Village”, Paper presented at the1st Annual Landscape, Space and Place Graduate Student Conference in Landscape Studies, Indiana University, April 6, 2007

TEACHING Lead Instructor, Indiana University World Regional Geography – independent study, online course, School of Continuing Studies G120 – World Regional Geography G110 – Introduction to Human Geography G325 – Tourism Geography G380 – Cultural Geography Assistant Instructor G120 – World Regional Geography Guest Lecture G315 – Environmental Conservation, “The Landscape of Cahokia” G235 – Geographic Research Methods, “Questionnaire/Survey Development and Implementation” SERVICE Affiliations Association of American Geographers, 2006 - present AAG Specialty Groups: Cultural Geography; Landscape; Qualitative Methods; Recreation, Tourism and Sport Travel and Tourism Research Association, 2009 - present Indiana University Tourism Research Workshop, 2010 – present Peer Reviewer 2011 – present Annals of Tourism Research 2010 – present Journal of Heritage Tourism Conferences and Professional Meetings 2010 – 2012 AAG Specialty Group – Recreational, Sport and Tourism Graduate

Student Representative 2012 Landscape, Space and Place Graduate Student Conference in

Landscape Studies - Organizing Committee Member 2009 – 2011 Landscape, Space and Place Graduate Student Conference in

Landscape Studies - Organizing Committee Chair 2008 Landscape, Space and Place Graduate Student Conference in

Landscape Studies - Organizing Committee Member

Association of American Geographers – West Lakes Division, Indiana University, November 15-17, 2008, Volunteer - Registration booth

2007 Landscape, Space and Place Graduate Student Conference in Landscape Studies - Organizing Committee Member

Sessions 2011 AAG Annual Meeting – Seattle, WA, Sessions Organizer, Session

#11820 – Recreation, Sport and Identity; Session #12582 – Recreation, Sport and Identity

2010 AAG Annual Meeting – Washington, D.C., Session Organizer, Session #8696 - Theorizing Tourism I; Session #8727 - Theorizing Tourism II

2008 AAG Annual Meeting – Boston, MA, Panel Organizing Committee, “Perspectives on Landscape” HICAH - Hawaii International Conference on Arts and Humanities, Session Chair – Geography Session, January 12, 2008

2007 AAG Annual Meeting, San Francisco, California, Session Organizer, Session #3710 - “The Vernacular Becomes Symbolic, the Symbolic Becomes Nationscape”

Departmental 2010 – 2011 Geography Department Social Committee 2009 – 2011 Geography Department Graduate Student Representative 2008 – 2012 Geography Department Space Committee 2007 – 2008 Geography - Map Library Committee 2006 – 2007 Geography Department Colloquium Committee OTHER PROFESSIONAL WORK Consultation Film Research and Development Consultant – The Journey of the Beams, Producer – Bryan Boyd, WFYI Productions, 2011 Co-Producer and Tourism Consultant (in research and development) – The New Age Drifters: From Affluence to Appalachia, Producer – Bryan Boyd, Ninethings Productions, 2010 – present Consultation on tourist behavior and site preferences, Spring Mill Pioneer Village, Indiana Department of Natural Resources, Division of Parks and Services, 2007 Other Educational Testing Services, Advanced Placement Reader – Human Geography, 2010 – present