Sure, trekking pole grizzly skewering and au naturel icy river fording are fairly high-action pursuits, but most hikers don't get to swing with that kind of action. You're lucky to get hit in the head with a pinecone at worst. And without big numbers to enrich your story? Or cool words like the tres Francais "gaston" or "roto-pockets," you're pretty much sunk the moment you lace up your Sundowners.
Quois? Mais non, petit grimpeur! Climbers always get the year 'round parking permit, it's just that climbers' permits are rad and sexy and facilitative of big-number sending, whereas hiker permits only lead to more gay flatness and boring non-anchor-clipping blanditudinalitification.
Hiking is flat and gay and there's no numbers to chase.
Climbing is steep burly mono-pockets and sick dynos and sexy onsighting and whatnot, all tied together with big numbers and bigger spray.
True indeed.
How come you have heard of Hunter DFA? Did you actually read about something other than bolt clipping and plastic while rereading Hot Flashes on the can?
Hey, Mr. Canadabutt! Just 'cause Dr. Flash Amazing chooses to while away most of his climbing time clippin' bolts and chasin' grades doesn't mean he isn't enamored with the whole damned sport! So stick your snooty snob snipings up your Canadian candy cavern, you big insensitive lout!
Holy yarmulkas, those glasses make you look like a gentile, ya schmuck! You're probably sporting a 'Goy Toy' belt buckle like that shiksa Madonna! Oy vey!