Rands is blasé about climbing controversies, especially those in Bishop, where she has lived for years. She says true climbers, trad or otherwise, focus on the rock rather than getting caught up in mud-flinging. But some worry that the ever-increasing traffic on area rocks will cause land managers to limit access. Others complain that outsiders are usurping their favorite bouldering haunts, once unpublicized. "People come to Bishop from all over the world to climb, and you'll hear a lot of different groups here say, 'Oooh, access this or access that,' " says Rands. "I don't see that anything's changed at all." She laughs at the notion that her buddy Mick Ryan, the author of guidebooks such as "The Bishop Bouldering Survival Guide," is to blame for a spike in the cost of living. Ryan, a 42-year-old British transplant who works with the regional Bureau of Land Management and Forest Service to minimize the environmental impacts of bouldering, has gotten some pointed reviews from the rock faithful. "Apparently some local climbers have had meetings about me," he says. "We've had eggs thrown at our windows…. People have shouted at me in public places, one sales assistant at a local climbing shop threatened not to stock my guidebooks, and one climber even threatened to let down my car tires." But Ryan, along with the BLM's Jim Jennings, who sits on the Bishop Chamber of Commerce's board of directors, has dual interests: protecting nature while cultivating the climbing scene. Jennings, a recreational planner for the BLM's field office, says that, overall, the climbing community has been quick to educate itself on the region's environmental idiosyncrasies, which include petroglyphs and a semi-primitive plateau area. The lingering trails of chalk on the rocks, which hikers and birders may complain about in other regions, seems to be a nonissue around Bishop, says Jennings. "Every outdoor recreational activity has impacts, whether it be off-highway vehicles or hiking. We look at it as just one of those impacts we have to deal with," he says. The BLM is currently exploring bouldering's effect on raptors and whether the birds are still using traditional areas or if climbers have displaced them in places. If a current study indicates that bouldering is harming the birds' habitat, the BLM and Forest Service will meet with climbers and propose solutions for cohabitation — particularly at the Happy Boulders and Sad Boulders areas where traffic is heaviest. Back in Texas, the calf-popping ways of Lizzy and Alexis Asher, multiplied by an increasing number of their peers, suggest that there are collisions ahead for the boulderers — from environmental to gravity-driven. As Lizzy "campuses" across another problem at McKinney Falls State Park, using only arm and upper-body strength, Alexis stands with arms up and feet firmly planted, ready to steer her sister toward the crash pad if need be. "I've got ya," she calls out. Lizzy eventually peels before topping out, but in a controlled way, landing square on the mat with both feet. But another time, farther up the rock, it might be different in a sport where injuries are as common as the chalk marks — usually ankle sprains and shoulder strains. The pull, says Lizzy, is as much about getting outside — and outside herself — as it is about knocking off problems. "I like those days where you get up early … because you're out there to climb and nothing else matters. You don't even think about what you're going to eat for dinner or what you packed for lunch. You just stay out all day, from when the park opens till when it closes at sunset." For Alexis too, bouldering provides a connection to natural rhythms. "It's so much about body movement, but you also have to be in tune with everything. I love the footwork. I mean, you do weird moves on the rock. It's almost like modern dance sometimes." On a vertical stage.

interesting article...

Big difference. I don't make friends easily and I'm very choosy about them.

ouch!