Lately I’ve been thinking a lot about rocks.
Not just any old rocks. A “special” rock. A rock with powers so extraordinary, its image so pleasing to the eye and aesthetically soothing to the soul, that to merely touch it is considered a criminal act, like the theft of the Sorcerer’s Stone.
But it wasn’t Harry Potter who crossed over to the dark side in the Utah desert outside of Moab two weeks ago. It was his professional rock climbing namesake, Dean Potter, who rankled the feathers of National Park Service rangers with his “free solo” ascent of what is presumably Utah’s most precious rock.
Just after sunrise on a Sunday, the real Potter, a part-time Moab resident and full-time rock climbing wizard, scaled the iconic Delicate Arch in nearby Arches National Park, posing long enough to take a few pictures along the way. For the record, he left only footprints.
Yet, despite adhering to that unofficial National Park maxim, Potter has drawn the ire of sandstone arch worshippers throughout the West, his actions condemned even by Boulder-based climbing activists such as the Access Fund and described in Utah newspapers as “indefensible.”
I’m taking it upon myself to defend him.
That anyone is actually offended by the notion of someone climbing a rock, using no more than his hands and feet, is a sad statement about man’s current place in the natural world. Delicate Arch is no religious icon. It isn’t designated as sacred ancestral land. It doesn’t weep or bleed on Good Friday. No, mostly it just sits around with all the other rocks around Moab getting hammered by wind, rain, sleet, hail, snow and sun for the better part of eternity. Birds land on it and, yes, occasionally even do their business upon it, just like they do on all those other rocks and arches out there in the desert.
Sure, it’s a pretty rock, pretty enough that they put its picture on license plates over in Utah. But let’s keep things in perspective here. It’s still a rock.
For some, the natural shape carved from those aforementioned elements separates Delicate Arch from so-called “ordinary” rocks. And while it’s true that such an unusual stone formation deserves its space within the national park, I get a little confused and can’t help but feel a little sorry for all those surrounding stones designated as runners-up in the boulder beauty pageant.
The day after the news broke of Potter’s climb, park superintendent Laura Joss told The Associated Press, “I’m very sorry to see someone do this to Utah’s most visible icon,” then rewrote the rules to prohibit climbing any “named” rocks in Arches. Meanwhile, just outside the invisible line separating Arches from the remainder of the rocks in Utah, people freely drive four-wheelers, mountain bikes and motorcycles across spectacular stone formations with names such as Gemini Bridges.
It’s important to remember that what Potter did to Utah’s most visible icon was essentially give it a big hug, wrapping his arms and legs around it and embracing his way to the top by means of natural handholds and footholds. He used no tools or anchors, left no physical scars, then lowered a string he carried in his pocket to retrieve a rope for his descent. For that – and the ensuing images that were captured – regulations were rewritten and Potter has been rebuked by the very community that once held him up as a hero. You’d think he stole its soul.
It’s true that not every rock needs to be climbed. In fact, very few rocks really need to be climbed. But they are. Big, symbolic rocks such as Mount Everest – the tallest one in the world – deep, yawning rocks such as those in the Grand Canyon, even scenic, artistic rocks, such as the Black Canyon’s Painted Wall or those made famous by Ansel Adams photographs in Yosemite National Park. Touching – and climbing – rocks qualifies among their many uses, right up there with throwing rocks, kicking rocks, chiseling rocks, and, yes, looking at and photographing rocks, which is the only thing the policy people at Arches would have you do.
While I can understand a fear of future climbers making a less pure attempt at scaling natural wonders such as Delicate Arch, the strict ban on embracing rocks au natural strikes me as the type of reactionary thinking that serves merely to further isolate man from nature, establishing it as something to be looked at but not touched. You might as well stay in your car and stare at license plates. Apparently all that’s left to do with rocks is think about them.
Staff writer Scott Willoughby can be reached at 303-820-1993 or swilloughby@denverpost.com.
