What is a boulder?

"What is that?"

That's how the question is always put when you're standing next to a problem, ready for a go, and someone unfamiliar with the area walks up.

"What is that? It looks fun."

"Well, it's a fucking rock you idiot."

Nah, I don't really say that. But I admit, I've thought it before. Why? Because of what the question means, superficially and kind of more generally, culturally if you will, for climbing.

Of course, as we all know, "What is that?", means, "What is the grade of that climb?" And, you know, what's wrong with that question? I mean, you're in a new area, you're interested in maximizing your time, getting on stuff that suits your ability, having fun and not wasting your time or bruising your ego the color of purple.

Well, I'll tell you what might be wrong with that question, or if not "wrong," then at least consequential in a way that I think sucks for everyone, most significantly, for the asker. It turns rocks and rock climbs and boulder problems into a bunch of numbers. And it turns climbers into a bunch of cock-thumping chumps whose single pitiful appreciation for a rock climb or boulder problem is the possible higher social rank doing that climb will put you in. That's it. That's what climbing is reduced to: the size of the patch of silver hair on your back and the length of your monkey dong dragging over the topouts.

So the question, "What is that?", drives me crazy because it's a sad signal that the existence of the boulder is its grade, and the climber asking me is a cock-thumping chump with no capacity to see a beautiful line, an interesting and pleasurable series of movements, curious geology, unique handholds, or even just be interested in the climb's name.

Which is actually how I usually evade the reduction of rocks and rock climbing to Vgrade penis measurement metaphors and answer the query with the climb's name.

"What is that?"

"I think it's called My Passive Aggressive Deflection. It's a beautiful line isn't it?"