The Black Dog

Five first-person riffs on the dark side of the climber mind

Last year, when I pitched the idea of a depression/ obsession-themed issue to our publisher, he balked. “We need to give people something to read,” he said. “Not a reason to jump out the window.” He had a point. I climb, you climb — we climb — to escape pain, loss, illness, and stress. Climbing is an out, and it’s a great one at that. But you have to return home at the end of the day, and home is where the head is. And even on the best days, pushing doubt, fear, and anxiety from your skull can be cruxier than any lead.

Here, we’ve gathered five essays linked by a common thread: dark manifestations of the climber mind. Why? The reason is twofold. Firstly, it’s because I think many climbers face these issues, but cowed by the cacophony of the dirtbag-chic, free-wheelin’ climbing community, silence themselves. (This seems to be status quo especially with depression, a condition carrying the stigma of malingering and contagion.) Secondly, I think darkness and climbing can be flip sides of a coin. I won’t try to explain, and maybe this is one of those truths that blurs when stared at head on. In any case, five writers — Kenneth Long, Fitz Cahall, Majka Burhardt, myself, and Chad Shepard — have given it a go. As you’ll see, three of these stories also feature free soloing. It seems when things grow black, the rope, for better or worse, is often left behind. Draw your own conclusions.