This is a story on the Black Diamond website about a unique style of bouldering.
“I turned the corner and saw two guys about my age, decked out in football helmets and shoulder pads, hockey gloves, Carhartt pants and wrestling shoes…Max sprinted toward the sloping slab face of a massive boulder; his thin wrestling shoes digging up bits of gravel with every powerful stride. Max launched on to the slab in a surprisingly athletic bound; his feet and legs pumped against the rock as his hockey-gloved hands scratched to assist.
… At that moment I could have introduced them to “proper” bouldering as I knew it, with advanced techniques, chalk, pads, magazines, V-grades, controversy, competition. As a seasoned boulderer of 13 years, I could have shown them how the sport was really supposed to be practiced. But why? How were my methods of bouldering better than theirs? My style more pure? Or how were anyone’s for that matter? How could I have possibly approached Max and Duane and told them that despite all their passion and raw energy their version of bouldering was incorrect? “Is that really my purpose as a climber?” I thought. No, it definitely was not.”
One time, when we were in the Black Hills climbing and it was raining, we went looking for these boulders. Maybe an hour west of Custer. Never could find them.