I was born in a really small town of about eight hundred people along a winding river in the Texas Hill Country. My parents were from farming families of another era, born on either end of the Great Depression. My father attended a one-room school house with the curriculum in German until the State of Texas ruled that American kids had to school in English. I feel pretty lucky to have been raised by them, they are a link to another way of life that’s not so familiar to much of the States today.
My first exposure to climbing was through a National Geographic special featuring some grizzled hard men suffering up some city big wall in a faraway land. With a ridiculously dangerous setup of hardware store fasteners and army surplus, I free climbed and aided out huge cypress and oak tree limbs. I took many ridiculous ground falls. The impossibility and inaccessibility of climbing kept it from my mind for years. There was no internet then, on the far edge of a time when climbing was still trying to be a bit of a renegade pursuit, and info didn’t penetrate the Cattle Curtain of my tiny ranch town. Only after I moved to Colorado for my last two years of high school did I find climbing, and I dropped damn near everything else in my life at that moment. I started out climbing everything I could: ice, trad, sport, boulders, mountains... That’s one of the best things about climbing: if you get a little disenchanted with one kind, you can dig into another for awhile.
After a few years, I pared it down to bouldering, which for me encompasses all the bits of what I’m looking for in climbing: exploration, a Line, work, travel, investment, and growth. Bouldering is still my primary focus in climbing, but the pendulum is beginning to swing back again, and I'm looking up from the talus to alpine crags more and more. I’ve been fortunate enough to get to see some amazing places over the years, and to climb some really beautiful lines in areas that have grown on me to the point of feeling home whenever I return. The forests around Fontainebleau, the mountains of Switzerland, and the deserts of the American West have chewed me up, broken me down, and left me laughing in the weeds for almost twenty years, and I hope I get to carry on for as long as I live.