HÖRST: You became well known for your amazing dynamic sequences; you were also the first climber to adopt the use of gymnastics chalk into climbing. Can you give a brief history of both?

GILL: As I've said, I began dynamics in the mid to latter fifties--against the querulous advice of traditionalists, who worshipped the concept of three-point suspension and abhorred lunging. It was a style that tied in remarkably well with the gymnastics I was learning, and I could see with great clarity that climbing technique and accomplishments could be improved dramatically; if not entirely by me, then at least I could point the way.

In the Tetons in the mid fifties I observed the guide, Dick Pownall, and a ranger named Emerson practicing climbing on what later became known as Cutfinger Rock. They patted their hands in the dry forest duff before trying to climb. As a fledgling gymnast I immediately put two and two together and began carrying a block of magnesium carbonate with me when I visited the rocks. Climbers from both coasts and some Europeans saw me using it in the Tetons and the word spread, I suppose.

HÖRST: Will you describe the process of doing efficient dynos? Did you train for these in the gym?

GILL: If you are a gymnast, dynamics are instinctive. I would practice occasionally on the women's uneven parallel bars, hanging in an L-position on the lower bar, then hopping to the upper bar with my hands only. The twenty-foot rope climb required a tremendous dynamic start from a seated L-position on the floor, with no boost from the legs. This helped on the rock.

On boulders, I would poise in a hang or on a set of holds beneath an overhang, stare for a moment at the terminal handhold, then look down, unfocused, and on a mental count of three pop up. Films show me looking again upward as I flew toward the handhold on top but this never really registered consciously.

HÖRST: Ironically, you also put up a few "no hands" boulder problems that many persons had difficulty ascending with their hands! What was the reason for the no-hands problems, a means of training footwork, or were they just for fun?

GILL: I wanted to cover a wide spectrum of bouldering and climbing difficulty, and the use of well-honed gymnastic balance appealed to me. I also wanted to test the limits of balance and footwork, isolated from a complete climbing experience. Once I did a simple fifth-class spire in Estes Park entirely no-hands. Royal descended Half Dome no-hands, I believe, so I wasn't alone in this peculiar pursuit. I was testing and pushing the frontiers of personal technique during this "Golden Age" of rock climbing. There were so many options then, and one could be at the leading edges with relatively modest preparation.

I don't think I would become a climber if I were a young man now--too much glitz and structure, too many peers, and the frontiers are well explored and very hard to approach. Too much of a social atmosphere, with its attendant pressures. What is freedom to a bird if it is in the middle of a flock?

HÖRST: What other practices did you employ to help improve your footwork, balance, and technique?

GILL: I did a lot of slack-wire/chain walking, as did Pat Ament, my old friend and fellow gymnast. I don't believe this has much of a positive carryover to climbing, for the balance is kinetic, not static. No-hands bouldering problems are excellent training for footwork.

HÖRST:Have you ever climbed on any of the indoor walls in CO?

GILL: Never. I climbed briefly on the wall at Guisely, England, with the developer in 1986 but I haven't cared to visit other walls. The atmosphere is a bit too formal for me these days, also a little too social. I can draw magic out of the rock in solitude, but designer climbing walls are merely technical apparatus. When I was much younger, I would improvise--climb inside gymnasiums, and on buildings--it was more fun than climbing would have been on surfaces specifically designed for the climber.

HÖRST: Finally, when it comes to balancing training and actual climbing time, what do you think are the ideal proportions?

GILL: In retrospect, if I had more opportunities to actually climb, rather than train, I might have gone a little bit further. I became a trifle too bulky with the special gymnastic abilities I developed. Ironically, I now weigh ten to twelve pounds less than I did twenty or thirty years ago, and the enhanced lightness compensates for the loss of muscular strength. I think, for bouldering particularly, the more time one spends on a variety of difficult rock problems, the better. On the other hand, training on simulated climbing moves or special apparatus can become an end in itself--much like a kata is to a martial artist. Thus unfolds the important aspect of climbing as ritual, pointing the way to unusual and pleasing experiences on the rock that are far removed from mainstream climbing.

HÖRST: Unlike many activities, climbing requires the integration of mental and physical powers. In Master Of Rock, you describe two unique performance states--one in which you are "saturated in kinesthetic awareness," the other a "hypnagogic" state. Can you explain these states, when they occur, or how they emerge?

GILL: Kinesthetic awareness can be experienced when, in excellent form, one does a wired sequence over fairly difficult rock. Ask an accomplished gymnast or dancer about the feeling of flow, the almost rapturous sensation of dynamic lightness. Actually, the level of difficulty does not need to be high, although when it is, levels of enjoyment do seem to be greater. This has some connection with the finding of one's natural path in Taoism. This is the flow I seek as a middle-aged option-soloer.

The hypnagogic state--that twilight zone between sleep and consciousness--is associated with what Carlos Casteneda describes as the Art of Dreaming. Surprisingly, for a work of fiction, the procedures as detailed in his Don Juan books work quite efficiently to place one in fully conscious alternate reality. Ten or so years ago I did a fair amount of experimentation along these lines and was eventually able to "awaken" in a climbing environment and "climb" with a truly ecstatic feeling of lightness and freedom. The trick, then, is to merge this reality with the one in which we normally function. I was able to accomplish this feat on several occasions while climbing easy to moderate, well-rehearsed routes on nearby granite towers.

I can drift easily, even today, in that direction while climbing--but it takes a large measure of solitude. That is one reason why, during the warm summer months, I travel to isolated desert mountains, domes of golden granite, where it is unlikely I will meet anyone. Difficulty, by itself, has become relatively immaterial, and climbs that are too serious restrict me from entering these zones. Option-soloing allows the right amount of potential variety to find and follow my path.

HÖRST: In Master Of Rock you also mention a possible state of "telekinesis"!

GILL: The word "telekinesis" arose in an old interview when I had finished a bottle of wine, following a large spaghetti dinner! What I was getting at is the transcendent lightness an accomplished climber feels on occasion, and how easy it is to wonder if one really is that light. Is there psychic phenomena generated in the execution of some moves? Fun to speculate, but I suspect it's all in one's head.

HÖRST: I believe that a positive mental state (even a smile) has the ability to energize, and that it may often be the determining factor in whether one succeeds or fails. What are your thoughts on this subject? Is "belief the Mother of reality"?

GILL: You are entirely correct. Also, "belief is the Mother of (alternate) realities."

HÖRST: How far can belief and desire take a climber?

GILL: Into some rather unusual "zones," as well as being requirements for spectacular technical feats in normal reality, I suspect.

HÖRST: I know you've commented that "vanity is a cardinal sin for climbers." What is the role of ego in climbing?

GILL: A strong, resilient ego is required for survival (and that's what we're talking about) on some desperate climbs. This muscular ego, that grows with success, can create a few problems from time to time in normal life, however!

HÖRST: What is the best approach for attempting an unclimbed boulder or route?

GILL: Experimenting with various techniques with little regard to getting up the route the first try or being sensitive to the number of tries it takes. The latter has never been a concern of mine, although I have had friends who worship excessively at this altar. What is most important to me is doing the route well and smoothly--to milk the desperation out of the climb to as great a degree as possible. Also, have you ever noticed how an appallingly barren rock surface actually, physically changes if you return to it two or three times? There must be alternate realities, parallel universes, in play here that I've never managed to control!

HÖRST: Some climbers approach a route as if to go to war. Is this the most productive approach, or should a climber work with the rock? Is gravity a friend or foe?

GILL: I have never perceived myself as involved in a battle with nature. To find the patterns of flow is more my approach. This is a matter of tempering the ego. (I have become blasphemously exercised from time to time, however, as my old bouldering companions will attest--so there is a non-trivial void between theory and practice!) Try to maintain a sense of humor when climbing.

HÖRST: How do you view the future of the sport? Is level of difficulty open-ended or are we approaching human limits? Will the greatest barriers in the future be mental or physical?

GILL: Which branch of the sport? Bouldering or Sport Climbing? Some other hybrids may emerge, too. It's up to the young to speculate and experiment--that's what I did 35 years ago. . .

I expect we've reached a gently rising plateau of difficulty, where harder individual moves will most frequently be facilitated by unusual anatomy. Seen in this way, the very concept of "difficult" undergoes subtle changes. Perhaps some new and novel twist on dynamics will be discovered. I used to speculate about a "double dynamic" sequence, where one uses the momentum of the first dynamic move to propel one's self into the beginning of a second dynamic move. I experimented on the rock, but the time wasn't ripe for such a bizarre accomplishment. The basics of dynamics had yet to be established.

{"the transcendent lightness an accomplished climber feels on occasion . . . it is easy to wonder if one really is that light"}

Putting together longer and longer sequences in the area of Sport Climbing--both on constructed walls and natural rock--will present a continuing challenge, I suspect. When difficulty levels stabilize, risk is added to the formula. The psychological challenge will be just as great as the physical. On the other hand, new technical devices may appear that will be quickly adopted and will change the structure of the sport in an instant. Fiberglass vaulting poles over bamboo. Sticky rubber shoes. Perhaps a hand mitt comparable to modern sticky footgear will become available and become a standard accessory after a leading climber starts using it. Then the paradigm of the evolving sport changes. Read the classic Games Climbers Play by Tajada-Flores.

HÖRST: What does the future hold for John Gill?

GILL: My underlying drive is a continuing and perhaps instinctive love of climbing--the euphoric feeling of controlled upward motion. I wax dangerously poetic when I contemplate this basic predisposition. When I was younger, I would climb anything. I still will. Recently, I visited my elderly mother in Alabama and spent two sessions climbing up and down the 60-foot steel towers used by the football coaches at the University of Alabama. What younger climbers would be caught doing something so trivial? No challenge, merely vertical motion and a touch of exposure.

Beyond this primordial instinct, the second feature of the sport that motivates me to keep going is exploration. The urge to explore something new is satisfying in the modest mathematical research I do, as well as in my climbing. Perhaps, this is another reason I don't care for artificial climbing walls.

Then comes the difficulty, the dynamics, the advanced technique, (perhaps the risk and the commitment), etc. That's what motivates many climbers, and what compelled me to do some of my harder routes. But, of course, I would have missed any number of ecstatic experiences had this been the sole focus of my climbing career.  

* Return to Gill Interview - Part 1 *