The Beta

As anyone who lays claim to the name “climber” who has done more than scramble up a 4th-class rock pile or pull on some plastic at a novelty birthday party knows, “to send” is a verb with far more flexibility than just the Fedexian interpretation. From east to west, from “allez!” to “venga!”, from encouraging your buddy up a route to shouting him through the crux with denouncements of “being a pussy” and threats of penalty slack, we motivate each other in different ways. We are inspired differently as well, some finding the strongest drive after a weak day of climbing, becoming determined to do better; some finding their psych from the diffuse of mutants as they brawl their way up impossible inclines.

But somehow, across all these cultures, styles, languages, and semantic crusades as to the true definition of “onsight,” the word “send” is almost wholly understood. It is a vague phrase in definition, being used synonymously with anything from “summit” to “hang-dog” to “redpoint,” yet philosophic in its use and understanding. A beginning climber struggling to make the top of his first 5.7 is congratulated at the bottom with “nice send” - the achievement of a personal best. A professional climber sashays her way up a beautiful warmup climb, enjoying every hold and angle, and finishes at the anchors with a feeling that she truly “sent” that climb. The definition of “send” is not bound by technical rules and jargon - it is buoyed by the feeling, the inner drive, the float we felt the first time we got on a wall and the everything-will-be-alright hum we felt looking out from the top of our first send.

To send is deeper than simply finishing a climb. You know when you’ve sent. It’s more than simply teching your way up a wall - it taps into that place we carry inside us like a quiet soap bubble. It both calms and enervates us, both drives us forward and forces us into the moment. To send is not to be just on a climb, but in it; not to be on the world, but of it. To find the joy, the challenge, the love and the passion, in every scenario, in every climb - this is the philosophy of the send.

Our climbing is fueled by a passion, a consuming drive within us, a passion that is the hallmark of any serious pursuit. The articles here may be about climbing on the surface, as a topic of journals and videos, but at its core it is about that passion. More, it is a project to tap into that core of inspiration and balance our psych, drive, and motivation, with the reason we are all outside in the first place: to connect with each other, with nature, and ultimately, with ourselves. The goal is to find the balance point between these - the single paradise centimeter where our love for climbing, for the world, each other, and ourselves, all intersect and coexist - that harmonious nirvana that we climbers simply call, “the gnar.”