about

Who knows when a person actually starts climbing. For me it was in my grandfather's backyard. There was a monster-sized boulder that made this nine year old's eyes wide with fear and wonder as I conquered that beast, then proceeded to burn my cousins with every form of eliminate imaginable. "Do it using only those these holds... now those... that foot's off... go up the rock without hands...", etc. Then came two and three day hikes with the dog in the foothills of the Appalachian Mountains, followed by late teenage years in the Rockies with sneakers and ridgerunning. By the time I made it to California, I never considered myself a climber because I had yet to tie into a rope like those strange guys in lycra were doing.

Then in May of 1988, I met a crusty old climber who heard I had a fear of heights. Looking for a young gun, Crusty convinced me to go cilmbing with him at Tahquitz on a 1,000 foot route ("whodunit" 5.9). Several rope lengths up, in my swami belt (four loops of two inch webbing around the waist and no leg loops) and oversized Nike's, he handed me these funky wedges of metal with threadbare kevlar rope holding them on the ends and sent me off on lead with the encouraging words of, "you'll use these when you are scared."

Instead of being scared, the sharp end woke me up like a religious experience. Adrenaline and excitement combined and without any falls, we dragged our way to the top with enough time to stop by and climb a 500 foot 5.7 afterwards. Three weeks later, I bought a pair of used Fire climbing shoes with just a hint of sticky rubber on their soles and immediately felt like a god. Every greasy smear was suddenly a foothold, and thin edges became built in steps up the rock.

Like most who experience this, I wanted to climb every day. Crusty wasn't in the mood and since I didn't know anyone else who could afford climbing gear, I went back to Tahquitz by myself and soon found myslf going up the 5.7 without a rope. That was it, I was hooked.

All these years later, not a whole lot has changed. Well, maybe a little....

First, I married my best friend and twelve years later, still call my wife "my best friend". Next, I was lucky enough to maintain jobs that allowed me to climb almost as often as I wished. First as a film maker/writer with hints of success, then as the owner of a website company when people were still figuring out what e-mail was. When my daughter was born, I sold the website company and went to law school to continue my lifelong passion in creating and producing films. It was during law school that I created and produced a series of climbing videos that still sit on random shelves today and upon graduation, instead of a three month climbing tour of the states as originally planned, found myself running business affairs for Harvey Entertainment, which produced "Casper, the Friendly Ghost," and "Richie Rich." The company was sold shortly after and I thought I could finally have my three month climbing vacation, but once again, opportunity knocked. My former boss and a close friend gave me an offer I couldn't refuse, the chance to run our own production company with another successful entrepreneur.

Our first film was "Cabin Fever", among others. Thanks in part to that, and a continued writing/directing career, the moment had finally arrived. I told my wife that I really wanted to finally take that cimbing vacation. She just smiled and sent me on my way. Her only comment was that I should take pictures this time.

Ever since that first freedom without a rope, I never stopped. As time went on, I found myself becoming more comfortable as my abilities - both in quantity and quality - grew. In this process, I found myself repeatedly at the same places on the same great climbs and created various ropeless circuits in a lot of places. These routes range in style and difficulty, but provide me a sense of freedom from the confusion of day-to-day life as well as being a constant reminder of how fun climbing can be. Unfortunately, repeating these enough times has created plenty of witnesses, making my personal pursuits, public.

And that's when the proverbial shit hit the fan.

Suddenly, people I didn't know became critical "friends" wanting to save my life, others would hang at the base of climbs waiting for me to solo the hardest stuff around on command, and whispers in campgrounds around the world generated rumors of inhuman proportions. Now I've managed to do a couple things that turn some heads, and yes, the "stupid summer stunts" and " Mojo Club" are real, but all the actual reports are merely the beginnings to larger dreams. That being said, people will still gossip and facts will become skewed. That's what prompted this website - to let people at least know the facts. Opinions are what they are.

Everyone likes to play voyeur and critique. If you solo and talk about it, you are doing it for ego. If you never talked about it and are suddenly discovered, you are underqualified. It's a lose/lose proposition for those that are unwilling to stand up to those that scream so loudly. And that's what this is about, stepping up to those who blather on endlessly.

Part history, part spray, part humor, and part slander, this site is for those that wish to know more about what other's term "insanity", "ego-driven", and just plain "stupid". It's obviously a sport with few participants, because like big wave riding, training happens every day in hopes for those rare moments when the stars line up and genuine moments of purity occur. The only competition is yourself in this game of life. And once in a while, someone touches the imagination and sparks the dream. That's what this is, my dream.

As for the three month climbing trip? A few years and counting....So mill about, spray, slander and most of all -enjoy, I certainly have.

And remember, never say "Take!"

Michael Reardon