Just a box of Gear

This is a tale of boxes of hardware. They really are just objects. But they come with stories. In high school I discovered the art teacher John Wharton had done an early ascent on El Cap. When I bearded the somewhat grumpy New Englander he told me nothing of the ascent, and I can't find it so would love to know what/if it was. He offered or really gestured me towards a box of old pitons. It was not a big box. He indicated he's used that as much of his rack on the route, or that's what I gathered. It consisted of a couple of dozen pins and angles, most obviously pretty homemade. I used a few of the small chouinard angles and lost arrows over the years while mixed climbing, but most of it remains in that same small box, in my mother's basement, near the xc skis and tire chains. 

More recently I opened a box which had been sitting unidentified in one of my company's warehouses for a few years. I had seen the name on it before, Rolando Garibotti, but it was a German shipment to an address in Germany which had long since gone astray and I assumed it couldn't be the same person I was thinking of. This summer I opened it. It was a bunch of top-of-the line cams, some slings, daisy chains and a pair of pants, all from 2016, but as good as new with original tags and packaging. They were in fact for Rolo. I contacted his sponsor who could not help given the age of the order. I left a message at Pataclimb.com, Rolando's website, and heard back. He expressed cheerful surprise in the fact that someone out there was honest enough to try and repatriate him and his gear, which he thought long gone. 

As I age up the years and down the climbing grades, and spend time on more sensible pursuits with my child (flying drones, trail work, skiing), I am warmed by these touchpoints with elders of a tribe I am sometimes further from than I wish.