Climbing Devils Tower | Part 1

Devils Tower is such an ominous name for a 1,267 foot butte that rises out of the Wyoming plains that I was setting out to climb…

I hardly have any experience with rock climbing and the fact that the name is a mistaken translation of a Native American Indian name, which is actually something like Bear’s Lair, wasn’t much solace. But it wasn’t solace that I was looking for – it was growth. Growth that was a hop, skip and a jump past information to a lived experience that I’ll never forget. 

It was planned as a two day sprint. Day one was to be filled with training and practice in Custer State Park in South Dakota. We’d then travel 2 hours West to Devils Tower, Wyoming for the summit attempt. I wasn’t alone. My friend, Tony, founder of Minneapolis-based architecture and design firm STR8 Modern (also little-to-no experience climbing) was just crazy enough to say yes to joining. And we were guided by Sylvan Rocks climbing expert, Doug, who (if you’re up for an adventure like this I highly, highly recommend).

The plan was in place, the scene was set… here’s what I learned… 

Bigger goals translate into bigger gains.

From the first practice climb on, Tony and I would look at what we’d be climbing and almost in unison say: “No way!”. “There’s no way we can do that!” We’d be staring up at what looked like rock faces that nobody could climb, especially a couple of novices like us. Each and every time, we’d gear up, strap in and begin one hand-hold or foot placement at a time. Of course, Doug, our guide, kept us safe and coached us every step of the way. But the biggest reason we were successful with those seemingly “impossible” climbs was that they themselves were not the goal. Our goal was much, much bigger. And these were simply stepping stones. Having committed to a goal that was monumentally bigger than these difficult steps somehow called us forward, unleashing potential inside of each of us that we didn’t see prior (admittedly, Doug did and kept pushing us). If those practice climbs, as daunting as they were, were the goal, I doubt we would have completed them – at least at the pace we were going. Bigger goals simply translate into bigger, faster and more meaningful gains. 

Vision + presence = growth.

There seems to be two schools of thought out of there about how to advance your progress most effectively. One argues for moonshot goals that are sometimes beyond comprehension. The other posits that it’s all about small goals and small steps forward. I think they’re both right: it’s about big goals and small actions. The big vision of climbing Devils Tower was inspiring, exciting and a little daunting, considering how big it is that had us taking big steps forward. But when I was on the practice climbs I wasn’t thinking about that at all. It was just me and the granite that was in front of me. Looking down felt nerve-racking from a few hundred feet up. Looking up was intimidating, as I gazed upwards at how far I had to go. Thinking about the past, future or anything else was only distracting me from what I had to do. Accepting, being present, and focusing in on where I was gave me the peace and presence to make one more move up the rock. And then one more. And one more. Those big visions move you into position to grow big. And hyper-presence gives you the ability to take that next forwarding move. 

We advance through imperfections.

Much of the climbing we were doing was what’s called crack climbing. Using the negative space of cracks in the rock to insert a hand, foot or finger and then flexing that appendage to essentially wedge it into place and pull or push yourself up the rockface. If it sounds uncomfortable, it’s not.

It’s downright painful.

But with an otherwise sheer granite surface, it was quite literally the only way up. If you’ve read my book, you already know that I’m a recovering perfectionist. It was on these practice climbs where I realized in a new way how important imperfections are. Imperfections actually aren’t in your way, they are the way. Whether it’s something about yourself, others, or the world at large that seems to be a problematic crack…each of us can acknowledge the crack, move into it, expand into it and before we know it – that crack, that imperfection, becomes the way. 

Perspective without experience is flawed.

Nearly everything in the park looked “impossible” to climb. Every single rockface we set out to climb at first seemed too tall, too sheer, too vertical, too something to be feasible to climb. But as a novice, that perspective was based on…. Nothing. At least nothing really relevant to what I set out to do. It was entirely built on what I had already done in the past: next to nothing. And as real as that perspective seemed to me – and believe me, it was visceral – it just wasn’t valid. We had someone that we all need on our team if we’re going to grow, a mentor. Someone with expertise (having climbed everything we were climbing himself and training countless others) to assess us, our capacity and the rocks which stood before us with a perspective based on real experience. Not ungrounded beliefs and fears. But on real experience having walked the walk (or better said, climbed the climb). If we don’t possess or source real and grounded experience with what we’re setting out to do… whatever perspective we have is very likely flawed and probably holding you back. 

You have to check out some more of the pictures of these crazy ascents we did on my Instagram. I never thought I was even a little scared of heights until I’m a few hundred feet up clinging to an outcrop the size of a penny. Even looking back at some of the pictures gives me flashbacks of vertigo! As wild as some of the shots might look – I assure you that the experience of being in those positions was even more wild.   

This was just day one, training day.

My biggest lesson of the trip wouldn’t come until the next day.

After a powerful, moving and mind-blowing time in Custer State Park, we paused for a moment to take it all in – and just sat staring at the beautiful wilderness for a few moments. We gathered ourselves, gathered our equipment and set off on a nearly two-hour drive for the main event – I’ll tell you about it next week – the Devils Tower climb.