Origin Story
The dirtbagdad: genesis and gestation
Profile. Avatar. Screen name. Handle.
Digital identities. We all have them. Sometimes they are semi-auto-generative, particularly in outmoded systems: johnsmith1873, mildredt32, monkeyboy18. Or they’re constrained by mysterious programatic limitations such as numbers or types of characters. In contemporary spaces we are aware of these restrictions—if they still persist at all—and tend to be adept at crafting noms de digital that resemble our actual names or other identities we desire to put out there.
Over the past couple of decades, I’ve been known in many venues as this: dirtbagdad. I’m long past the phase of life where I’d wanted to project mystery and an esoteric presence. I’ve long known that dirtbagdad is cryptic to many. And because of that, I’ve wanted to let others know what I’m trying to signal by it.
So here is my origin story of dirtbagdad.
First, a clarification on what it’s not. dirtbagdad is an amalgamation of two words: “dirtbag” and “dad.” Some may have read it as having something to do with the soil associated with the ancient Persian city… that is not my intent. There is also a connotation of a dirtbag as an undesirable character (think associates of Tony Soprano). That is also not my purpose.
Instead, the name begins with my identity as a long time rock climber. The concept of the dirtbag life (and yes, it’s way of existing) may be familiar if you know the stories of early era climbing legends (such as Warren Harding, Yvon Chinouard, John Long, or Lynn Hill) as well as the generation that more or less immediately followed (e.g., Steph Davis, Dean Potter, Beth Rodden, or Alex Honnold). There are uncounted others of varying levels of renown who embody the dirtbag life (or “dirtbagging” as it’s often known). This culture is firmly rooted in the vast lore of Yosemite Valley's historic Camp 4 (though it’s not limited to that locale by any means).
In this climber culture, a dirtbag is someone who lives to climb. Material possessions, steady work, domicile permanence, and other trappings of so-called "civilized" domestication are minimized to support the simple living that accompanies being outdoors and climbing. It’s a life of scrounging for the essential physical elements of human subsistence: shelter, drink, and food. Yet there’s a method to this madness: it’s to provide a foundational existence by which one can maximize the ineffable wholeness of dancing gracefully over stone, ingesting rhythmic measures of the most essential element for Homo sapiens: breath.
I gained an awareness of this “traditional” dirtbag life when my oldest was but a toddler (she’s 35 now). My attraction toward it continued and grew through the birth of my next three kids. With those three, my primary occupation was as a full-time dad over the next decade and a half. It’s a role I will always hold… that can never end… nor would I want it to. Raising young kids meant it would have been unrealistic (based on the practical realities of our lives) to pick up and live out of a vehicle. Yet, a core essence of my being is as an errant soul, wandering about on journeys of both outer and inner discovery. Even with my kids, the level of connection with the land that one could know as a dirtbag still beckoned, often enticingly so.
Instead, during these years, the concept of the "dirtbag dad” slowly evolved. It's a way of knowing an unencumbered freedom while also swimming upstream in the midst of the 24/7 life that accompanies child-rearing. It’s a way of living that beautifully manic life in a childlike manner, unencumbered by disproportionate material possessions and ambitions. It's about stopping and seeing the world through the eyes of kids of all ages. It’s about scrounging—full-time dads aren’t typically earning the big bucks—in order to enable and outfit briefer road trips than other dirtbags; yet, they still were veritable road trips. It’s about slowing down and finding presence. It’s about creating a legacy around sharing the joys and challenges (and everything in between) that accompany the outdoor world. And it’s about nurturing notions of connection to that world within my kids.
My kids are no longer very young. They’re now travelling on their own formative paths ranging from adolescence to midlife. The need to watch over them minute to minute and hour by hour is no longer necessary. They are making their ways toward becoming independent, functional, and self-sufficient (mostly) adults. They are learning how to advocate for themselves and seek help when they are unable to weather the storms and unpredicted terrain of their own journeys.
All of which just may be allowing me to slowly accomplish what I call a "reverse dirtbag shift." I recall an Enormocast episode featuring a conversation with contemporary climber Mikey Schaefer in which he contemplated moving from the constantly itinerant dirtbag life to one with more place permanence: owning a home and raising a family. And that’s an OK choice.
For me, I began as a climber who had kids and a home that predated my climbing life. Those choices long anchored me in time and place, yet those anchors, while comfortably familiar, no longer serve me; nor do they provide service to those for whom I love and care. And here I stand, having embarked on a new journey by which I deliberately, both out of necessity and desire, have had to traverse light years: Here I stand, gazing beyond those graceful and meditative treadmills of domestication, an unbroken and unbound spirit seeking new journeys, on the lookout for the sublime crystalline presences that lie amongst the myriad tiny moments of each day.
“Keep on keepin’ on” and “see you down the road.”
Note
This essay is based on a post (September 19, 2020) in which Bonnie “Carrot Bowl” Weeks shared her “origin” story and solicited others’. Thanks to her for the inspiration and motivation to finally write this.
Have you listened to Blake Boles' new podcast, Dirtbag Rich? Based on this post, I bet you'd really enjoy it!
Eric, So interesting. My initial thought about the name was of the Tony Soprano variety, haha. But I knew that would not be true of you, so I'm glad to have read this and learned something about that unique world you inhabited!