10 April 4 - 10, 2024 dallasobserver.com DALLAS OBSERVER Classified | MusiC | dish | Culture | unfair Park | Contents rock climbing], it’s just crazy,” Mariana says. The next step for United Rocks is bolstering their competition team. They have had a couple competitions already, with just three kids competing so far. Not every kid is going to be able to compete. Most of them are just there for the fun and community at Sunday practices. But for the higher-level kids, competition can be a great way to earn accolades. USA Climbing, the governing body over the climbing competi- tions, has a category for para- climbers with physical disabilities, such as amputees, but no special category for climbers with IDD. “That’s one of the things we’re working on, to add that category.” Special Olympics doesn’t offer climbing at all, something the Steelsmiths want to introduce. United Rocks has had a profound impact on their son, Jake. “He’s loved all over the place, and he goes into practices, and everybody knows him. Everybody knows who he is, and he just hugs everybody.” Seeing Jake accepted in the community while developing his rock climbing skills has been an emotional experience for Mariana, who worried Jake would lack the opportunities Gabriel had. On this day at Dyno-Rock, Jake decided not to climb. His focus was fastened to the shredded rub- ber mulch that makes up the soft ground below the walls. “Everybody hates it, but the kids love it,” Mariana had whis- pered to me about the floor. “If you get in there, once you get out, your hands will be all black, and every- thing is black.” Jake’s not fussy about the mess. What 6-year-old is? He shovels the rubber into a big bucket and laughs. “Do you like to shovel, Jake?” “Yes!” A big smile paints his face. 60 Minutes recently aired a segment on a climbing camp in the Austrian Alps that is helping grieving Ukrainian widows and their children who have lost fa- thers in the war recover their in- ner strength by overcoming physical challenges. Led by Na- than Schmidt, a lieutenant colo- nel in the U.S. Marine Corps Reserve, the retreat teaches com- munity, courage and responsibil- ity. “When you’re on the rope,” he said, “you’re responsible for those that are on the rope with you. When they’re weak, you pull them up.” Brian echoed a similar senti- ment. “This sport has to have com- munity behind it, because it takes two people to do it, minimum.” It seems there’s something spe- cial about the rock-climbing com- munity that makes this work. Every person I know who rock climbs is always trying to get me to come try. Something about the sport hooks people in, making them want to share the experience with others. Recreational climbers tend to be more conscientious than other athletes, according to one study. Climbing is not just an activity, but a badge worn by those with similar values. “That kind of community in- volvement, it’s not our normal way of being here in this country,” Brian says. “We don’t operate that way.” “Holy moly,” Mariana inter- rupts, walking up to Brian and me and noticing the full page of notes on my pad. “Is he burning your ear already?” “I’m trying not to cry every time I say something,” Brian responds. ‘Get on the Wall’ B rian doesn’t stop at getting kids to climb. He wants parents on the wall. He points to Zaid’s father, Sami Kilani, who is watching his son from a bench. “He’s afraid of heights. He’s shy and not thoroughly interested. I will have him climbing though. The reason I’ll have him climbing is because if parents climb, the kids will follow.” Zaid, who is 8 years old with low-spectrum autism and atten- tion struggles, has tried other sports such as karate, soccer, bas- ketball and swimming, but he hasn’t engaged with any of them. Zaid goes up and down the wall just fine. He likes the shapes and colors of the holds. But his real passion lies in the chalk. “Chalk!” Zaid yells, running around the soft ground, clapping his hands to make a white cloud of the powder that helps climbers grip the holds. He imagines a mon- ster coming up from the ground through the rubber mulch whose only weakness is chalk. Chalk! “Chalk is for the wall, remem- ber?” volunteer Reed Clanton re- minds him. Reed feels he can see things in the kids that he went through in his own life, himself having ADHD and autism. He works well with Zaid, knowing when to push the kid and when to play along. Brian had already got- ten through to one father about climbing that same day. Jeff Miller was there with his son Simon for their first time at practice. Already, there Jeff was, donning climbing shoes for the first time ever and giving the wall a conservative ef- fort. “Didn’t get as high as Simon, I don’t think,” he says. “But as long as he gets into it, I’ll keep coming.” At the end of practice, Reed gets a commitment from Sami that he will try climbing next week. He writes it down on Zaid’s chart to make sure to hold him to his word. “That’s really huge,” says Brian. “I’ve been bugging him since day one to get up on the wall. If dad’s climbing, the son’s going to climb too. And he is not a climber.” “Make sure you’re encouraging him too!” adds Katie. Father-son climbing is a cor- nerstone for Greg Evans and his son Ian. Today, they find a red route to climb, the fourth easiest of the 11 color-denoted difficulty lev- els. Ian is a fast climber, barely looking down at his belaying dad as he “sends the route”: climber- speak for getting to the top. Greg and the Evans family weren’t climbers before United Rocks. “It’s now a family thing,” Greg says, who also climbs with his daughter, a student at UT Dal- las. The Evans are drawn to the community aspect of the sport. Sarah, Greg’s wife and Ian’s mom, is United Rocks’ gym manager and helps coordinate gym sched- ules and behind-the-scenes man- agement. Some days, Ian, who has au- tism, is very communicative about what he wants to do next and when he needs a break. But when he’s not, Greg can still read clues in his son’s body language. When Ian belays back down, he quickly grabs his Optimus Prime Transformers toy and goes to take a break on the couch. That means he’s done for now. The volunteer-climber rela- tionship is an important one that grows each week. If a kid takes to a volunteer, they’re going to look for them every time, Brian says. Volunteer coordinator Kevin Cuadrado pairs himself with Jonah (a different Jonah from the Shaff- stall son). They usually climb to- gether, and Kevin has seen a lot of growth from Jonah over the months. “He used to not even want to get on the wall,” says Kevin. Now, Jonah, a small 11-year-old with dark hair and an orange shirt, is tackling yellow routes, a step up from the beginner white routes. He climbs fast, like Ian, racing with conviction toward the top of the route. Sometimes he gives into the temptation of putting his foot on a different color, making the route easier. But mostly, he stays true. Jonah is a quiet kid but is com- fortable talking to Kevin after forming trust over time. If you ask Jonah if he likes climbing, he’ll shake his head yes. When Jonah is not in a talkative mood, Kevin picks up on nonverbal cues to see how things are going. Is he tired? Does he want to stop? Does he want to push himself today? “You have to try to figure out by the way that they’re acting if they’re not communicating.” On the other side Nathan Hunsinger Gabriel McCormick, 9, is congratulated on his completed climb by his father Mark (center) and volunteer Kirill Vostrikov (right). Unfair Park from p8
