The great rocks are the cathedrals of our persuasion. Not that we honor pagan temples; but when we approach trad climbing with reverence for the medium, rather than girding for a chance to exert the “rights” and good sense of the conqueror, our experience becomes richer for the effort. We are no longer bullies of the environment, or vigilantes for the safety of mankind, but equals. In this way we discover a sacred belonging lost on the man who would impose his will, his fears, and his answers onto the landscape. Trad climbing is the adventure version of cat burgling. We sneak in, steal an experience, then fade back into the shadows. There’s no material evidence that we were ever “there.”