by Luke Mehall

The way of the dirtbag is a simple life: maximizing recreation while minimizing responsibility. Life as free as the wind; work as little as possible; and spend mucho time in the outdoors doing what you love. In my 20s I lived this lifestyle to the maximum: I’d wash dishes all summer in Crested Butte, and then move closer to the equator when winter rolled around to climb in places like El Potrero, Red Rocks or Joshua Tree.

It was fun while it lasted, but I always felt the yearning for something else. The bottom line was, other than forming elaborate strategies to avoid rangers busting me for camping over the 14-day limit, I was rarely using my brain. So I did what a lot of dirtbags do when they get tired of being poor: I got a real job.

Using the iPhone to check in with the fam on El Cap.

That lasted a few years until I wanted to live like a dirtbag again. I missed it. I wanted back in baby! So I became a born-again dirtbag, or a part-time dirtbag, a workbag, whatever you want to call it. I wanted to use my brain, work hard but still have a similar feeling of when I lived wild and free. Fortunately advances in technology allowed for the marriage of responsibility and irresponsibility; to do meaningful work these days, you often don’t have to clock in.

My last days of living the hardcore dirtbag lifestyle were in Joshua Tree, circa 2006. Many advances in technology were on their way, but most were out of reach for someone living at a low level of income. I made my phone calls on a pay phone and socially networked with Myspace (remember Myspace?) at the public library. It was 2006, but it easily could have been 1976, well sans Myspace.

Unbeknownst to me while I was basking in my dirtbagdom in Southern California, the great and late Steve Jobs was creating a world that would soon put tools in the hands of dirtbags such as myself. Before he was the CEO of the most valuable company in the world, Jobs was a minimalist hippie who studied Zen and took pilgrimages to India. He valued simplicity and intuition. As the computer revolution evolved, Jobs saw a future where the power of the media would be put in the hands of everyday people.

Of course Jobs wasn’t singlehandedly doing this, he was simply the most iconic figure to do it. Plus, Jobs is the easiest for me to relate to. He listened to Bob Dylan, valued a simple life and loved wild places. He was married in Yosemite, with a wedding cake made in the shape of Half Dome. Unlike Bill Gates, the other icon of computers, Steve Jobs seemed like one of my people.

When I think about my people, I ponder how many artists and athletes are living the dream. Photographers have always been a source of envy.

 

They travel the world, see beautiful places and record what they witness. Filmmakers work in a similar way, though the hours they work are certainly not enviable. The most savvy of writers also travel the globe and write about what they see. There is no doubt that modern computers and technology have made these jobs more accessible and have allowed for these folks to live with more freedom.

I’ve got a MacBook I bought used for $200, and with internet access, I can publish and promote my work for free from anywhere. I also have a hand-me-down iPhone from my Dad, and a digital camera that fits in my pocket. In just a few short years, I’ve gone from basically no technology to having everything I need at my fingertips, and I’ve only spent a few hundred dollars.

The ultimate expression of us outdoorsy folk is to say we’re “living the dream.” Sometimes the dream gets old, we miss the benefits of civilization and end up returning to the lifestyle we were running away from.

But now, all of a sudden, there is a new middle ground emerging, and it’s exciting to be a part of.

Next month, I’m planning on launching the fifth volume of The Climbing Zine, a publication I started with some like-minded climberfolk in the midst of this technological revolution. We’ve got writers from all over the country, some I know, and others I just connected with online. On April 20, we will publish an electronic version, and it will instantly be available across the world. Again, the investment has been within the means of someone living on a very modest budget, and incidentally I’ll be in a remote part of Mexico the day we launch.

In the morning, I envision I’ll wake up, find a coffeeshop that has Wi-Fi, do some double-checking that everything is correct, and with the click of a button instantly make the zine available to the rest of the world. After that I’ll go climbing on some Mexican limestone, and later in the evening attend a wedding of two dear friends. And if that is not living the dream, I don’t know what is.

Luke Mehall is the publisher of The Climbing Zine and the author of Climbing Out of Bed. More of his writing can be found at www.lukemehall.blogspot.com and www.climbingzine.com.