Heart of Gold

I saw an IG post this week (@megoneill10) with this line:

“I'm an energetic, magical person. And when something uncomfortable lands in my life I don't just survive it - I alchemize it.”

“Alchemize it”

The Alchemist 

“To change by alchemy : transmute”

That’s the definition of “alchemize.” 

“Alchemy” is defined as such: “a medieval chemical science and speculative philosophy aiming to achieve the transmutation of the base metals into gold, the discovery of a universal cure for disease, and the discovery of a means of indefinitely prolonging life.” 

And also: “a power or process that changes or transforms something in a mysterious or impressive way.”

These past couple of years have involved me trying to impressively change my life. The impressively part isn’t the important bit. That’s not the goal. But I feel like if I make the changes I want to make then it will be noteworthy. 

Anyway, the whole process of improving my situation has led me back to bouldering and bouldering development. I’ve rearranged my life in such a way that it’s possible and desirable again. In that sense I am the alchemist. 

My life is really good right now. The changes have allowed me the mental and emotional space to approach bouldering as a discipline again. Specifically bouldering development. 

All those ages ago when I was prolifically developing pebble wrasslin’ around home I had begun to see it as an almost religious rite. I went to the stones to commune with the infinite. To celebrate being alive and awake to the world around me. I still had hope for the future laced through with a shrinking naïveté that I was normal and the built world was a good place with a few problems. 

I’ve taken some hard ground falls since then. I discovered I am neurodivergent. At 32 years old I made the discovery that I have ADHD. My academics struggles were almost finished at that point. It seemed too little, too late. And not early enough for me to factor it in to my career planning. Or life planning. So I became a Planner. What irony.

I failed in my first effort at a professional career. Ran tuck-tail home when the edges started to crumble. 

Then there was the marriage and the aftermath. It could have been worse, but it was not good. I managed to keep my house. I managed to keep my kids. I lost dignity. I lost years. I lost confidence. I lost my good health. I lost my energy and my passion. I stopped planning and keeping life lists. I lost my way. 

So I turned to the kind of alchemy I knew well: introspection. I went deep into the darkness of my own soul to find the answers. What I found didn’t shock me. 

I’m relearning my old patterns—the ones that served me well. I’m finding my space in the world again. I’m rediscovering old emotions and thought streams. I finally feel like the person I was before all the darkness; the person I thought had died. 

It turns out—it seems—as if he was just dormant, hiding within himself and protecting what was most important. So I have alchemized myself to turn a leaden heart back to gold. 

This blunt arete I’ve been working the last week is an apt candidate for the problem name of “The Alchemist.” I’ve borrowed it from the Paolo Coelho novel obviously, and it hit hard when I read it, but really it’s been the process I’ve been going through since July of 2024. 

That’s when I started making real changes in my life. I solo backpacked Rough Trail, and then went on to the Pine Mountain Trail. I changed relationships. I changed jobs. I went to Wyoming and solo climbed Cloud Peak and then bagged a slew of state highpoints on the way home. Then I went to New England and had the best road trip of my life. And I’m now with the person I should have always been with. That’s a whole story unto itself. 

All of those changes alone would constitute a successful transmutation from trash into gold. For me, the physical expression of all of this is to go out, visualize a line up the rock, and then make my body flow and conform with the canvas nature has provided. To commune with stone. To justify myself in the world. 

I have not sent this line yet. I know I can. I know I will. 

First photo showed original beta
In this one I was trying a more
straight-on approach

Blu-eyed Boulder Gai

I sent Blue Eye Samurai. I got home from work last night but hadn’t planned to boulder. But conditions were perfect, so I asked Jay to go. We took two pads and our shoes and chalk bags. 

She tried Better Call Saul, and I should have gotten on it again, but instead I threw the pads down under that prow. No day but today. 

Two pads gave me confidence, and it got a boost when Jay moved the pads for me as I moved out the prow. I sent it first try. I didn’t cut feet. 

It’s funny; the crux of the route was the 5.3 exit slab move above a twelve foot 5.9 overhanging prow. It’s not hard; it’s just high.

It was the perfect mix of steep and slab, hands and feet, comfort and tension. Yeah. Perfect. 

I couldn’t stop thinking about that line. I looked at that five or six years ago and saw the possibility. I didn’t really think I’d ever do it. And here I am. Author of a classic. 

It’s the perfect bouldering story: Long lost problem. Rediscovered. Delayed return. Pondered. Doubt. Then I cleaned it. Then I cleaned it some more. Put hands on it. I might just do it. Threw a pad down. Swung such cool moves. Enough to know it would go. Squatter in my blotter. Not in dread but in drive. All came together. Spotter Jay. Temps were fine. My energy was high. Stoke followed. 

Hands to stone, feet placed, and I flowed upward. Controlled reaches. Confident pulls. Gunksian position. Finally onto the shelf. I did it!

I am the wizard of slab. Upward I dance. Pause at the 5.3 crux twenty feet off the ground. Grab the ridge and heave over. Blue Eye Samurai.

I dabbled in creating images in Copilot until I realized
how detrimental creating AI imagery is. These are relics... 

Surf Slade

At 4:02pm, I set my cruise at 82 mph. It’s strategic. Traffic on I-64 out of Lexington was lighter than usual. Fayette County spring break is a needed respite. I was pleasantly surprised to find the access road gate open at North Fork. I pulled up on the reins and took the shot.

That’s where all the traffic ended up. I avoided Stanton and Slade both with my little exit maneuver but ended up passing half a dozen cars coming out of the western realm on North Fork. And more heading out later. GPS mapping is ruining my outdoor experiences. 

My goal was to improve and possible attempt the marquee line on the Samurai Boulder. Mainly it needed the remainder of loose detritus and dead leaves swiped off the upper slab. That went pretty quickly. Then I threw my old worn out pad under the line and shoved my gnarled old feet into brand new shoes. Old wine in new wineskins and all…

I surprised myself on my first attempt of Blue Eye Samurai by getting all the way to the move that transitions from overhanging to the upper slab.  I wanted a second crash pad or a spotter. I’m sure I can do the move. 

It’s going to be a classic moderate highball boulder problem. I foresee it being the common starting point when people start visiting Boulder City. 

I FAed three other easy problems. One was the obvious line in the uphill side of the Outskirts Boulder. It’s the first (and large) boulder on the center approach. Just below Broken Window Boulder. Called it Tourist Traffic. Wonder why?

I did two problems on Samurai after attempting Blue Eye. I did the obvious easy scramble on the left side of the south face. I called it Electric Balalaika in reference to the movie “Six String Samurai.” And to wrap up a good quick session I sent the slab problem to the left of the southwest arete. I called it Surfing in Siberia. It’s hard V0 or maybe V1. The moves are fun and once I clean it up it should be a pretty good problem. 

I’ve slipped back into the life I’ve pined for all these years. I’m living the life I want. At least in the kind of balance I can accept. I’d rather have more free time, but I’m stealing as much as I can and maintaining equilibrium. 

Saul Goodman Boulder from the top of Samurai Boulder

I’m feeling the same kind of drive and motivation and excitement as I did when I was full-on developing Lower Small Wall, Area 51, and Muscle Beach. It’s satisfying to identify, clean, develop, and tick off line after line after line. And not only for the climbs but also for the trails and top outs and bases. I have considerably more experience trail building and doing rock work. I envision a fully developed area that will draw people to boulder there. 

I know I’ve said this before, but I've realized bouldering is my creative urge and creative outlet. It's looking at a piece of rock and envisioning how I can move over it. It’s crafting a line, naming it, creating some kind of history to go with it. The documentation through photos and writing about the experiences enhances it even more. Maybe I’ll be the only person who ever enjoys my art, but it is my art. 

Righteous Dinero Brothers

I slipped out of Lexington an hour early from work. I didn’t rush and ended up at the pull off about the same time as if I had left at my normal time and stood on the gas pedal all the way. Tourist traffic. 

I changed clothes in the drivers seat. It’s warm again, so I go into the woods wearing only a pair of shorts. Trying to maximize my sun exposure early in the year. I poked my contacts in. 

No one around despite the hordes. I laid into the approach, one foot in front of the other, climbing the slope, rounding the undeveloped Outskirts Boulder. Pausing at the Broken Window Boulder to consider giving SimCity Planner another go. Decided to stick to the plan. 

I trudged up the distinct deer trail, found a nice approach line through the rubble above the limestone band, and dropped my stuff under the imposing southeast corner of the Samurai Boulder. The sun hid about the time I reached the CBD of Boulder City. 

First I clambered up on the Saul Goodman Boulder swept the leaves and sticks off. Mainly I’m trying to get ahead of any poison ivy that still wants to bud out. But there was no poison ivy on top of Goodman. 

Dropped a rope down the south face of Samurai. Snipped some rhodo and birch twigs. Swept off piles of leaves and dirt caught on ledges. It’s going to be epic. Kept looking over at the east face of Goodman—that distinct pillar feature on the top two thirds of the slab. The sun was dipping low. Other than walking out in the dark nothing compelled me to leave. 

So I threw brushes at the face—at that line. It took some time but I got it all cleaned up. I set the ladder aside—strapped my phone to it for video in fact—and dragged my crash pad over and plopped it at the base. Jammed my feet into climbing shoes (gonna need a resole soon), dipped my fingers in my chalk bag, and stepped up to the boulder. 

With a false start the problem went down as I expected it to. The moves were straightforward. The holds are all there. It’s high enough I didn’t want to blow the top out but not so tall as to melt my heart. I called it Better Call Saul. ‘S like a V1. Maybe. I don’t know grades anymore. Now I’m stoked to pull down the lines.