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The Red River Gorge Climbers Coalition (RRGCC) is a group of selfless climbers that have banded together with a common obsession: to preserve what they feel is the greatest climbing area on earth. In 2004 they purchased the rights to the Pendergrass-Murray Recreational Preserve, creating one of the first climbing areas owned by climbers. But with every great gift comes its price.

This holy land of sport climbing has indentured the RRGCC to a yearly mortgage of $29,000. To the average dirtbagging climber, $29,000 seems unfathomable, and the notion of this much money in one place could immediately send one into an epileptic fit. Thus, Petzl’s decision to organize its annual RocTrip around the Red River Gorge’s Rocktoberfest , an event to help raise this mindboggling mortgage, was a boon for these boondocked climbers. Petzl rallied their pro athletes with a summoning to raise “as much money as humanly possible.” It was time to get these pretty boy, training fanatics to the Gorge where they could actually do something meaningful for once instead of ruthlessly pushing bright Lycra and perfecting the French Blow.

Since I’ve been a climber for awhile, I’ve managed to surmise that climbing is an activity done by oneself (minus the suckered belayer) for oneself. So as I sat on the plane to Boondocksville, Kentucky, I was obsessing over how Petzl had managed to con so many of their self-absorbed rock princesses to come out for such a good cause. I assumed these climbers had their own selfish pursuits at the heart of their attendance. It must have taken the empty promises of numerous photographers, sponsorship swag, and adoring fans to inflame the climber ego and propel these rock snots to attend. These competitive climbers probably came on the notion that they would be the first to execute unclimbed routes, affording them un-hindered gloating privileges for weeks to come. But as the event began and hot, sticky temps rose to the high 80s with 100% humidity, I decided that maybe boldering.com’s horrendous flame wars and spray-a-thons didn’t hold as much truth about climbers as I had believed. Perhaps these climbers weren’t suffering for nothing, but were sweating for a good cause in good ole App-uh-latch-uh. But then again, this skeptic was well read on the adverse affects of being strong, so I knew maybe not.

Using my own brand of Southern charm and make-you-feel-bad-about-yourself good looks, I swindled my way into the high-rollers cabin. Yes, pro climbers get perks that raise them slightly above the average dirtbag, but that doesn’t mean they’ll be happy about it. I was prepared for the hissy fits and pouting parties when these prissies didn’t get their way. These pros need either excessive beauty sleep or excessive partying in order to get any sleep. A few grounded folk like photographer Keith Ladzindski, who’s masterful eye for composition and light doesn’t do squat to get him up 12b, made the pro-princes’ bitch-quests almost bearable. He nearly convinced the 8a cronies, who run the Facebook of climbing sites, to add a point system for jumaring, something Keith has to do to get to the top of any route hard route to shoot photos but is a joke to real climbers. “You know I’ve jugged some of the hardest routes in the world to get photos. Corey Rich doesn’t have shit on this,” Ladzinski joked one night over pizza and Ale 8.

Luckily most of these pity parties ended when the climbing began, and the RocTrip had two main climbing events set up to raise money. One was Flash Rally competition which proved to be the most nerve racking. Competitors had to raise money by trying to get to the top of each route without falling on their first and only go. Though this may sound like an easy task to some, it only takes one look at the impressive, massively steep and tall Motherlode crag to see that it mercilessly delivers a sadistic pump to any who scale it. Large jugs lead out an impressive 80-foot cave, and beating your pump is the name of the game. I, unfortunately, am not the most well-versed at this style, and often start Lamaze-style breathing half way up the route, which is quickly followed by actually birthing screams towards the top. As I approached my first flash test piece, I prayed the Petzl athlete coordinator would continue to ignore my existence as he had up until this day. Because even though he didn’t assume I was any Emily Harrington or Martina Cufar (Petzl’s poster girls), he did know that over the past two days I had consumed more beer and pizza than the two of them combined. In most sports this would earn me a purple heart, but in the land of slim-fast gulping waifs, excessive caloric consumers are pariahs on the level with baby killers. If I wanted to prove my (self-)worth to the climbing status quo of the week, I had better send. And since I like to eat, I did.

Of course my floundering display of rock grappling wasn’t the main party attraction (though even some old school bad-asses like Lynn Hill looked pretty amused at one point). Emily Harrington completed the women’s first Petzl bounty route, which earned the foundation a $1,000 donation in her name. She nabbed the first female ascent of Ultra Perm 13d, which she managed to pull off in one day even after Liv Sansoz’s incessant short-ropeing and bad beta. (That competitive bitch!) Mickael Fuselier was the first to complete the men’s bounty route, proving his dieting and training regimes were far superior than the other Euros. The route, Fifty Words for Pump, which up until then had been an unclimbed project, was rating 14b/c, and tagged on another grand to the fund in Fuselier’s name. Of course, some climbers couldn’t shy away from challenges that didn’t earn the Gorge any money, but did cause a scene for the hundreds of spectators that came to watch the pros do what they do best. In a Canada versa US challenge, Canadian Sean McColl nabbed an impressive flash of Thanatopsis, a 14b which he sent after snagging American wonder kid Daniel Wood’s beta.

After tons of nonstop climbing, screaming, and bulging biceps, these top climbers dropped their diets for a day, but grabbed their laxatives (just in case their training-conscious got the best of them) and partied down to celebrate the fact that after all was said and done a total of $30,000 was raised, covering the entire mortgage for 2008. (Yes, now we can plan our trips for next fall!) Music ensued with dancing, early inebriation of the top climbers, and experimental consumption of brave new amounts Kentucky moonshine. Local rapper Odub took the stage to bash on any climbers I’ve managed to miss; and later DJ Lafouche was joined by athlete/musician Said Belhaj to enlighten the South with some euro style techno and deep fried drum and bass.

The next day those climbers with enough self control from the night before and enough psych left from the week before, decided to head back out for a last day of pumpilious jug hauling in the area they helped save. Their focus once again shifted back to egotistic projects and self-obsession about skin quality and proper heal-toe placements. But in the end can we really blame them? If over-training and self-absorption take the same amount of dedication it took to preserve one of America’s best climbing areas for another year, then maybe all the non-profits out there can learn a lesson or two about what it really takes to get the job done.