Throwback Thursday #9- Confessions Of A Climbing Addict
This edition of our slightly-neglected Throwback Thursday series is from The Climber #55 (Autumn, 2006). Like many of the gems in this series it is from the Last Pitch column—a space on the last page of the magazine for reflective, satirical, whimsical or outright controversial pieces. This iteration of the column was penned by the irreplaceable Shaun Barnett, who sadly passed away from brain cancer in 2024.
Like other abuses, the climbing addict started perfectly innocently. A day climb on Ruapehu or Rolleston, a few weekend trips to Nelson Lakes or Arthur’s Pass, and maybe—once a year at most—a longer journey to Pioneer Hut. Bad sadly, this person did not know how or when to stop. Increasingly they sought the mountains at every opportunity, filling most weekends, and even using their entire annual leave to venture forth. Some have even been known to abandon good careers in accounting or beekeeping to become semi-professional ‘adventurers’. Perhaps most tragically of all, the addiction started to affect their home life. Symptoms of climbing addiction include such abnormal behaviour as poring over guidebooks, hording past Climber mags and even collecting old ice axes. Unlike substance abuse, including those of drug and alcohol dependency, the climbing addict suffers from a little-discussed form of addiction technically called ‘substrate abuse’. They are obsessed with landforms: cirques, couloirs, arêtes and U-shaped valleys. Some modern junkies will now even salivate over a simple boulder. Just bagging the occasional peak is not enough for the climbing addict; they always want to visit new peaks, explore obscure valleys and conquer virgin routes.
Warning Signs
Some will dismiss their addiction lightly; reciting clichéd platitudes like ‘we’re off over the yonder ridge’, ‘because it’s there’ or even ‘to get close to nature.’ In chronic cases the addict may even have a misty look in their eyes, an inability to concentrate on urban life, and may hero worship people like Sir Edmund Hillary and Sir Graeme Dingle. Names like ‘Aspiring’ and ‘Tutoko’ slip off their tongues frequently, and in the worst cases, addicts will dribble incoherencies like ‘South Face of Douglas’ or ‘La Perouse from the Cook River’. Non-addicted climbers can learn to watch for warning signs in their companions. Perhaps the most obvious is the astonishing trait of planning the next trip while still actually on the current climb. Other signs are refusal to acknowledge a knee injury caused by over use.
Bringing the Addiction Home
As with substance abusers, the substrate abuser often brings the most suffering on their loved ones or flatmates. Arriving home with their breath smelling of dehydrated meals, unkempt and dirty. Male mountain junkies will often be unshaven. So will some female addicts. In the first mild stages of the disease, addicts will wash as soon as they get home, and even apply cologne or perfume to disguise the smell. But as the disease progresses into truly hopeless cases, the climbing junkie will arrive home, and proceed to bore their friends and family senseless with obviously exaggerated tales of daring dynos, protection-less pitches, and mountain vistas. No attempt will be made to wash, and while the addict waxes lyrical, the poor neglected family or flatmates must suffer the unbearable reek of smelly polypropylene. The addict, of course, has long since grown numb to the stench and does not notice. They may even leave smelly socks in a bucket for days on end. At first, the climbing addict simply does not recognise they have a problem and will vehemently deny their condition. Later comes more surreptitious behaviour, such as hiding and hording of climbing paraphernalia. The partner or flatmates of the addict will find, hidden away in little-used drawers and cupboards, many abandoned items. A pair of moraine-scuffed plastic boots here, an old Torre pack there, a cracked karabiner in the underwear drawer. Later, the addict does not make any attempt to hide their problem, and climbing equipment can quite literally, take over the house. The garage is filled with old climbing ropes (‘will be good as a tow rope’), ripped parkas (‘it’s got sentimental value’), snow-stakes (‘might be good as a spade for the garden’), abandoned stoves (‘I just need a new part for it’).
The Hidden Role of Gear Manufacturers
Naturally in the age of the free market economy, gear manufacturers completely deny the existence of climbing addiction yet at the same time ruthlessly exploit it. Every year they produce glossy new brochures with enticing pictures and new season colours and styles. What was the domain of two or three companies has now proliferated into a whole host of outdoor manufacturers, both local and overseas. While this may seem innocent enough to the layperson, a quick glance around even traditionally suit-dominated cities like Wellington show that an increasing number of urban dwellers are now wearing outdoor apparel. Down jackets, Gore-Tex and merino wool tops have permeated every aspect of urban life, and it can only be a matter of time before the addiction becomes more widespread. Shamefully, some of this gear is made right here in New Zealand, although happily this is becoming increasingly uncommon.
The Threat to Innocent Children
In its most severe and depraved form, the climbing addict may even entice their children out into the wilds. Before they can even walk, some of these kids are dragged into the hills in specially made carry packs. Later the addict will purchase little pairs of climbing boots and a brightly coloured harness for their child. There seems little hope for these children, cruelly wrenched from a life of television and the X-box for the sick world of fresh air, nature and exercise. Even sadder, some of these children may have excelled at competitive individual sports, only to have this denied and instead replaced with a non-competitive climbing environment where co-operation is considered ‘beneficial’. In this way, one addict can quite easily start a cycle of abuse that may span generations.
Government Denial
The present government seems intent to ignore the issue altogether, and rumours have it that Prime Minister Helen Clark secretly indulges in much outdoor recreation herself. New Zealand’s own Alpine Club should acknowledge its blatant role in creating junkies too; by offering introductory courses, producing guidebooks and running mountaineering camps, the club has arguably created whole generations of new addicts over more than a century. The Department of Conservation must share some of the blame too; by servicing thousands of kilometres of tracks and nearly one thousand backcountry huts they merely provide temptation for climbers to get firmly addicted. Increasingly, overseas tourists are flocking to indulge in backcountry revelry, and unfortunately some of them too leave the country as addicts.
Rehabilitation
Organisations like Alcoholics Anonymous simply do not exist for climbing addicts, and the substrate abuser lives in a world where the general public is ignorant of his or her plight. Blame is not the answer, many of these addicts were once normal people, and can become so again. The Internet may offer a slight glimmer of hope. People are spending more and more time at their computer, and thus the climbing addict may make the slow and painful transition back to urban life. This adjustment is not easy; at first the sight of concrete and urban sprawl may upset them, and they may rave about conservation and bemoan ‘the consumer-driven society.’
Cold Turkey
Neither is cold turkey likely to bring about desired results; a better approach lies with weaning the climbing junkie off slowly. Encourage them to read The Climber as a substitute for actually leaving town. A garage clean up may result in strong protest, but it’s best to throw out all that old gear to create an environment where the addict will not be constantly tempted. Ironically, strictly controlled and limited climbing may actually reverse some of the damage. Wellington’s Titahi Bay is well known as a place that has cured many of their climbing tendencies. Likewise the rock of Mt Darwin in Aoraki Mt Cook National Park has similarly put many a potential addict off. Such places must be chosen carefully, and should have the right quantities of crumbly rock, bad weather and huts without mattresses. Therapists should be aware, however, that some degenerate climbers will actually learn to enjoy these conditions. Total rehabilitation is rare, but fortunately for the modern climbing addict, mountains throughout the world are becoming increasingly over-developed and over-commercialised. With more development such as chairlifts, mining, roading and gondolas we can look forward to substrate abuse being a burden of the past.
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In the twenty years since this piece was originally published, climbing addiction has become a near epidemic and New Zealand Alpine Climb takes this issue very seriously. If you, a friend, or family member is suffering from climbing addiction, we've set up this hotline where you can seek help: 0800 SEND IT