I have written on this theme before.
Data is observable, measurable information. Method is how that data is created. Narrative is the story around the data and the method.
This blog and the associated media has taken many forms over the year (e.g., a journal of exploits or a window in my thoughts and actions). The recent reincarnation is data-driven video, an objective record of what I climbed and where I climbed with universal standards (i.e., GPS coordinates). My method can be deduced. The blog has a light sprinkle of narrative.
You can (and should) pick the elements of interest and use for you. Leave the rest.
Nov 8, 2012
Nov 7, 2012
Sending Projects "23" & 22" 45 Area at Mt. Gretna, PA
These climbs are listed as projects, "23" and "22" (respectively), in the 45 Area from the "Governer Dick Bouldering Guide."
Thank you to Adam & West Chester, PA crew for pads, spots, and company.
GPS Corrindates:
Parking (N 40 14.267 W 76 27.554)
Boulder (N 40 14. 309 W 76 27.325)
Nov 3, 2012
Nov 1, 2012
There is no secret science
Science values openness. If you want to claim you are the first to do something, you have to publish it. You can pursue experiments on your own and never share the results. But when someone publishes the same results, the first public results "win."
In addition to just following the "rules" of science to "win", the world is a richer and more interesting place with more information.
There is much climbing can learn from science.
Oct 29, 2012
Sending problems next to "Tourette's Razor" at Bushwhack Rocks, MD
After removing vines and cleaning the holds, I sent a couple of problems around the corner from "Tourette's Razor". There is another, easier problem (not in video) to the left that starts sitting.
There are rumors that variations of these problems may have been done. It is a pity that person choose not to share that information publicly. Give my desire to open new problems, I would spend my limited time not rediscovering established problems.
GPS Coordinates:
Parking (N 39 30.559 W 77 28.835)
Leave fireroad (N 39 30.436 W 77 28.433)
Boulder (N 39 30.230 W 77 28.441)
Update:
The rumors have been confirmed.
That is a mighty fine addition to the area.
Oct 27, 2012
Saturday Syke
In Heaven It Is Always Autumn
"In Heaven It Is Always Autumn"
John Donne
In heaven it is always autumn. The leaves are always near
to falling there but never fall, and pairs of souls out walking
heaven's paths no longer feel the weight of years upon them.
Safe in heaven's calm, they take each other's arm,
the light shining through them, all joy and terror gone.
But we are far from heaven here, in a garden ragged and unkept
as Eden would be with the walls knocked down,
the paths littered
with the unswept leaves of many years, bright keepsakes
for children of the Fall. The light is gold, the sun pulling
the long shadow soul out of each thing, disclosing an outcome.
The last roses of the year nod their frail heads,
like listeners listening to all that's said, to ask,
What brought us here? What seed? What rain? What light?
What forced us upward through dark earth? What made us bloom?
What wind shall take us soon, sweeping the garden bare?
Their voiceless voices hang there, as ours might,
if we were roses, too. Their beds are blanketed with leaves,
tended by an absent gardener whose life is elsewhere.
It is the last of many last days. Is it enough?
To rest in this moment? To turn our faces to the sun?
To watch the lineaments of a world passing?
To feel the metal of a black iron chair, cool and eternal,
press against our skin? To apprehend a chill as clouds
pass overhead, turning us to shivering shade and shadow?
And then to be restored, small miracle, the sun
shining brightly
as before? We go on, you leading the way, a figure
leaning on a cane that leaves its mark on the earth.
My friend, you have led me farther than I have ever been.
To a garden in autumn. To a heaven of impermanence
where the final falling off is slow, a slow and radiant happening.
The light is gold. And while we're here, I think it must
be heaven.
John Donne
In heaven it is always autumn. The leaves are always near
to falling there but never fall, and pairs of souls out walking
heaven's paths no longer feel the weight of years upon them.
Safe in heaven's calm, they take each other's arm,
the light shining through them, all joy and terror gone.
But we are far from heaven here, in a garden ragged and unkept
as Eden would be with the walls knocked down,
the paths littered
with the unswept leaves of many years, bright keepsakes
for children of the Fall. The light is gold, the sun pulling
the long shadow soul out of each thing, disclosing an outcome.
The last roses of the year nod their frail heads,
like listeners listening to all that's said, to ask,
What brought us here? What seed? What rain? What light?
What forced us upward through dark earth? What made us bloom?
What wind shall take us soon, sweeping the garden bare?
Their voiceless voices hang there, as ours might,
if we were roses, too. Their beds are blanketed with leaves,
tended by an absent gardener whose life is elsewhere.
It is the last of many last days. Is it enough?
To rest in this moment? To turn our faces to the sun?
To watch the lineaments of a world passing?
To feel the metal of a black iron chair, cool and eternal,
press against our skin? To apprehend a chill as clouds
pass overhead, turning us to shivering shade and shadow?
And then to be restored, small miracle, the sun
shining brightly
as before? We go on, you leading the way, a figure
leaning on a cane that leaves its mark on the earth.
My friend, you have led me farther than I have ever been.
To a garden in autumn. To a heaven of impermanence
where the final falling off is slow, a slow and radiant happening.
The light is gold. And while we're here, I think it must
be heaven.
Oct 25, 2012
Prison Shanks, Inc
37signals has a concept - Sell Your By-products. There are many by-products of developing climbing: the joy of contribution, poison ivy rashes, and shivs.
The Climbing Lab proudly presents the first offering from Prison Shanks, Inc:
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