Fathers and Sons as Climbing Partners

[catbirdseat]

I've seen a few TRs about fathers and sons climbing together. It would be cool if some of you could tell us about climbing with your dad or son (or perhaps Mother/Daughter partners, although I'd suspect that would be less common). My dad never climbed, but we did do a backpacking trip together that was pretty special. We also did a lot of sailboat racing together. Got any good stories?

[cracked]

Stuart N Ridge. Innumerable trips to Smith, with both my mother and father. Bunch of choss heaps in OR. Many, many hours in the gym over the past three years.

[catbirdseat]

I remember Tomcat telling me he climbed quite a bit with his dad. I think AlpineK used to climb with his dad. Winter's buddy Tom had his son and daughter along on Guye Peak.

[Billygoat]

I climb with my son. He just turned seven. Mostly bouldering and top roping. No big adventures yet. We enjoy getting out together.

[catbirdseat]

I've noticed that a lot of guys climb with their kids when they are little, but they turn into teens and get really busy with college and then careers. But some of them come back and climb together with their pop again and that's so cool. Reminds me of a Mark Twain saying. To paraphrase:

"When I was seventeen, I couldn't believe what a stupid son of a gun my old man was. When I was twenty, I couldn't believe how much he had learned in only three years."

[Billygoat]

well said...

[Fairweather]

 

My son and I on "Donohoe Peak" in the Wrangell Mountains a few years ago. (That's Blackburn in the distance.) He's 14 now, and goes on a few trips with me each year. For me, these trips are the pinnacle of my mountain life.

[marylou]

My daddy was a most excellent backpacker/Mr. Off Trail Guy. Forestry student, lifetime log scaler, up high/steep crappy scree guy, no ropes. Dad was/is not a "climber", just a guy loking for an elegant line and/or a good adventure.

 

Which probably explains my habits, neither good backpacking/hiking TR fodder, nor climbing TR fodder. Just Chosscades brushy loose fun stuff, with no unusual or extraordinary objective ever.

 

Something in between hiking and climbing, not appreciated by either. The pictures of me, at maybe age seven, are pretty good.

 

But in the end:

 

 

[klenke]

CBS said Twight said, "When I was seventeen, I couldn't believe what a stupid son of a gun my old man was. When I was twenty, I couldn't believe how much he had learned in only three years."

...except I doubt good 'ol foulmouthed Twight used the words "son of a gun." Probably used the f-word there.

[adventuregal]

I can't wait to take my dad climbing!!! Finally a sport that I know more about than he does... He still kicks my ass at skiing and windsurfing...

[catbirdseat]

Twain, not Twight, you twat. Yeah, I know you were just making a joke.

[DPS]

My daughter and I started climbing together when she was 5. By age 10 she was completely at ease on longer multi-pitch trad routes and could lead on pre-placed gear. She developed a fluid crack technique that combined with her flexibility and small hands allowed her to easily climb thin cracks and pin scars I had no hopes of getting up. Photographers loved to shoot her and she reveled in the attention. By 13 she was sick of the whole thing and a blow up at Index ended our climbing trips.

[minx]

i climbed with my dad from the time i was old enough to totter up the trail until i went to college. all easy alpine stuff. he didn't have the stomach to watch me climb anything particularly difficult. i still cherish those moments as some of the best in my life. nothing like standing on a summit w/dad to his credit, i enjoyed climbing with him but we didn't do it so much that it interferred with me having a healthy dose of other kid activities and friends. when i became competitive in another sport at age 10, he even learned that and competed as an amateur dad.

 

my son climbs alot of easy alpine routes with me. he's turning into an enjoyable partner. i try to pick things that will challenge him in some way but never scare him. when he gets tired and cranky i go for a blend of humor and bribery. he's climbed all the peaks near alpental. most recently we had a nice scramble up the class 3 route on red moutain. he has climbed many peaks in the olympics. even a long 15 mile day when he was only 5. i've let him hike up to the muir hut w/me and had to gently tell him that i wouldn't let him climb rainier yet. climbing with him has been such a great experience. it's given him so much confidence and me so much respect for what he can do all by himself.

 

when it comes to roping up, that's always his call. some days he doesn't feel like it, some days he does. i always bring shoes and a harness. if he doesn't want to climb he can play in the dirt.

 

climb with your kids!

[erik]

i took bob to donner summit one day. he doesn't talk shit about climbing anymore.

 

we started up some easier stuff at first to get him comfortable and learning some fo thetechniques required. built his ego up a bit made him think climbing was easy...then we moved to a steeper fist crack and then a finger crack. he was soooo wasted after climbing those two short routes that he went to bed when we got home.

 

 

[catbirdseat]

What is Bob's relationship to you?

[erik]

he's bob

 

 

[sketchfest]

Climbing with my son has been a slow process. I tried to introduce him to the sport about 8 years ago, (he was 8 then) but he could take it or leave, he just didn't show any real desire. At that point, I backed off and let him do his own thing, occasionally taking him to the gym or getting him outside to the local crag.

 

Then about a year and a half ago, he decided that instead of doing any school sanctioned sports, he would try out for the junior rock climbing team at our gym and he dove into the sport with great enthusiasm. Since then his abilities and confidence have improved to the point that I thought he was ready for his first multi-pitch, (Moscow 5.6) not a hard route, but nice exposure and a fantastic experience for us both, he's still talking about it. I can't wait till next spring/summer when I can introduce him to some more remote climbs, until then, it's back to the gym.

 

[David_Parker]

In 1993 for a retirement present, I guided my 63 year old Dad up Mt Rainier. He had only really hiked up mountains in New England and in the Adirondaks a few times. For him it was a huge sense of accomplishment and he was simultaneously elated and humbled. He wrote a long TR which I read from time to time. For me it was awesome because I gave him an experience he will remember for the rest of his life instead of something material. He still talks about it and has a really nice photo of Rainier in his house in Maine. My brother from Utah joined us so he was actually climbing with 2 of 3 sons. A few years later we attempted the Grand Teton, this time with all 3 sons. Unfortunately the OS route was too icy and we only made it to the upper saddle. I've tried to convince him we should attempt the Matterhorn but so far he has balked.

 

I hope my son drags my ass up stuff when I get old! Still, I have a bet with him as to when he will become a better skiier than I. He can be so cocky sometimes, then I remind him he has to learn to telemark for it to count!

[klenke]

catbirdseat said:

Twain, not Twight, you twat. Yeah, I know you were just making a joke.

Doh! I missed that one. Hey, cut me some slack (and don't call me a hmmdffffesdafd), it was nigh bed time when I made that last post.

 

If it was Twain in which you spoke, then he probably used the N-word there.

My gaffe sort of reminds me of another Twain quote: "The difference between the right word and the almost right word is the difference between lightning and the lightning bug."

[catbirdseat]

Here's a story about me and my dad, although not about climbing. We raced his 37 foot sailboat from Newport to Ensenada. The wind blew so hard it was a fast race and we didn't need to run the engine to charge the batteries. Finally tried to start the engine as we approached the finish line and it wouldn't turn over. Water had sucked back in through the exhaust from the following seas and into the cylinders. Even with the compression release, the diesel wouldn't turn over.

 

We managed to sail into the harbor and drop the hook under sail like in the old days. Went into shore to find we had taken first in class. My Dad was so excited. I've never in my life seen him so elated.

 

We partied all day on shore and forgot about the engine. After the trophy ceremony, the rest of the crew jumped on the bus and off they went, leaving my dad and I to figure out what to do about the boat.

 

We took one of those crazy water taxis back to Cat's Paw and pondered what we should do as the other boat left the harbor for home. A neighboring boater explained we had to pull the injectors to get the water out. My dad doesn't touch engines, but I was willing to give it a try.

 

I got the injectors out, but it turned out there were some metal rings that I could get a hold of, left in the sockets. We put a towel over the engine and cranked it and the water shot out with the rings. One of them went missing, and I couldn't find it anywhere. I poured a jigger of motor oil into each cylinder to protect them and cranked again.

 

Well, we at least had protected the engine from destruction, but didn't have it to use. It was getting dark now and probably the smart thing would have been to hit the bunks, but that's not what we did. We caught a tow out of the harbor until the wind came up and then cast off under sail.

 

It's something like 70 miles from Ensenada to San Diego where we figured we could find a Yanmar mechanic. Of course the wind was 20 knots on the nose. We went with a reefed main and a full 140% genoa and pounded into it, tacking back and forth hour after hour. The only dry place in the cockpit was either under the dodger or on the high side near the rail. We took turns steering through the night and arrived in San Diego in the afternoon of the next day.

 

San Diego Yacht Club gave us a temporary place to berth for the week, since we both had to get back to work. My mom came down and gave us a ride home.

 

The next week, Dad went down by himself to meet the mechanic. They sent a flunky down to tell my dad it would be two weeks before the new parts could be ordered from Japan. "Ah nuts", my dad thought, "I'll give you twenty bucks if you can find that missing ring". The guy crawled around for about ten minutes and finally found the thing under a flange of the engine pan. The mechanic came down and reassembled the parts and the engine ran fine. I came down the next day we motored home with our big perpetual trophy in the forward berth.

 

I think that was about as much adventure as my dad had had since his days in the Army.

 

[salbrecher]

My dads not a climber but he's one heluva hiker and scrambler. He always took us out hiking and canoueing when we were really young. he took my brother and sister up to Garibaldi lake when my brother was 4 years old (made him walk the whole way with a pack). He tried to take me up the Black Tusk when I was 5 but I started crying at the base of the chimney because it was really blowing and my hands were cold . 2 years ago I went back up with him and he finally climbed it. This summer I took him up to Lake Lovely water for a week and climbed Alpha, Omega, Iota and Pelops. He's 55 and I can barely keep up with him (i'm 19). At the time of the trip he'd just finished the Kneeknacker (50km trail run with 7000ft elavation gain) for the 4th time and was in stellar shape. I'd just finished treeplanting for 3 months and was also pretty fit. It was pretty much 5 days of running up peaks really really fast. The best part of hiking with my Dad is seeing him still pushing his boundries at 55. Everytime i'd point and say "that's where we're going" he'd say things like (in a thick Austrian accent) "bloody hell Shtefan", "no bloody way Shtefan", or "You've GOT to be kidding Shtefan" yet each time we'd climb it he'd say "ya ya Shtefan it was not so bad" Funnest thing was teaching him to glissade. at first he was scared shitless but then he couldn't get going fast enough. Damn, this is making me homesick!

[lemon]

My father gave me a name, a good work ethic and a nearly unbearable sense of self-righteousness. Sometimes I hate myself. Thanks pops!

[Jens]

Dad was afraid of heights but would still belay me.

 

 

In my midteens I climbed Rainier with him and made fun of how slow he was going for most of the way. I'd sprint and then wait, sprint...then wait. After awhile though, the tables began to turn. He only seemed to get stronger as I got progressively more wasted. Never count dad out!

[mmcmurra]

My Dad got me into climbing, through his sister, who lives in Australia and does all things outdoorsy. I am still totally impressed by how much effort he put into teaching us to climb (in Texas, of all places) while learning himself -- and not killing us all in the process! I've had a blast taking him up routes at areas from Washington Pass to Exit 38, with him loving every minute of it and never complaining ... NEVER. The feeling of him trusting me completely, while I know it must be difficult for him to see me run it out or scramble ropeless over some exposed terrain, is hard to express in words.

Probably our most memorable climb was Right On (5.5, 3p) at Joshua Tree, which we turned into a 7-hour near-epic as he pushed his physical and psychological limits. What a great adventure. To say nothing of our other outdoor adventures, like our 2-day canoe trip down the Hoh with the water a little too rough, capsizing the canoe, my Dad barely catching his bottle of heart medicine before it floated away... Awesome.

 

Now, at 61, he climbs more than I do, leading routes at the gym during the week, and mtn. biking or climbing outdoors almost every weekend. I wish he wasn't all the way in Texas...

 

Missing him

Michael

 

P.S. I hope you all also find tremendous inspiration in the idea of climbing past 60. It makes the fact that I only climbed outside 3 times this summer not quite so depressing.

[Fairweather]

 

In addition to introducing my son to climbing, my brother and I also managed to get our dad up The Chilkoot Trail. He hadn't hiked in 40 years! We had planned this trip for some time when, out of the blue, dad announced that he was coming along too! He pretty much kicked ass. No blisters or complaints.

 

Sorry about another boring picture, but I really love this thread! That's dad and I just a few hundred yards south of the pass....1996.

 

 

ps: Don't say anything about the mountie attire. I am not, nor have I ever been a mountie.