Gift ideas for the Dirtbag who has nothing

It’s almost Christmas, which means it’s almost time to over-indulge in various novelty meats and argue with your half-pissed, vaguely racist relatives. But before such festivities, you must purchase gifts. Gift-giving is an important Western tradition and a keystone of the national economy, so if you don’t do it, you’re a communist sympathiser and liable to federal surveillance and possible deportation.

Christmas is a time to remind the people in your life that you care about them, even if some of those people live in a cluttered Toyota Hiace at Mt York or an earwig-infested tarp ghetto at The Pines. There are many gift ideas for “the person who has eveything”, but what do you get for the Dirtbag who has nothing, not even the desire for material goods nor the physical ability to store them? Fear not, for these infinitely helpful gift ideas will help show your love through the only method our society knows – the expenditure of currency.

A Hot Shower
Personal hygiene is not a particularly high priority in the Dirtbag Hierarchy of Needs, so there is a fair chance that your friend or relative is a little on the nose. A hot shower at the local truckstop, hotel or laundromat might seem like a strange gift, but it is essentially the Dirtbag equivalent of a luxury day spa package. If they will consent to it, why not treat your Dirtbag to a light trim at the local barber or pet groomer, as they probably look like Bigfoot on meth.

Fresh Fruit and Vegetables
After months of living off basic carbohydrates, tinned beans and expired Aldi Toblerones, your Dirtbag is almost certainly entering the early stages of scurvy. You can help arrest further deterioration with a timely delivery of citrus, kiwifruit and tomatoes.

A Roll of Duct Tape
Nothing elevates the social standing of a Dirtbag faster than the liberal application of duct tape to a disintegrating jacket. For best results, utilise an incongruous colour scheme – black tape simply won’t cut the mustard for a black jacket, so go for white, silver, or one of those utterly repugnant novelty patterns as pictured.

Enough said.

A New T-Shirt
Recent studies confirm that the optimum Dirtbag wardrobe (for lack of a better word) consists of no greater than three T-shirts. The first is for formal occasions, the second is for general climbing use, and the third is demoted to offwidth and chimney applications. This third item is therefore subject to infrequent but severe abuse and must be replaced once devoid of structural integrity. Just as tadpoles turn into frogs, caterpillars transform into butterflies, and millennials move out of the family home in their mid-30’s, new T-shirts are an important and beautiful phase in the Dirtbag lifecycle.

A Flight to Hobart
Let’s face it – climbing during the summer months is often unpleasant in New South Wales and Victoria, and borderline suicidal in Queensland. This December, why not give the gift of friction with a mercy flight to Tasmania. If the cost of this gift is prohibitive, 5 to 10kgs of Metolius Superchalk might prove a suitable alternative.

A Sleeping Bag Wash
Washing a down sleeping bag is a difficult and lengthy task, and as a result, most users tend to forego it entirely. This means that many sleeping bags house microbes that are potentially harmful and frequently unknown to science. Extreme caution should be employed when attempting to transport a used sleeping bag, as contagions have been known to spread rapidly and without cure. For best results, consult our comprehensive guide on sleeping bag care and maintenance.

An Intervention
All of these gifts are perhaps delaying an inevitable question – what is your Dirtbag doing with their life? As an upstanding citizen, you have a moral obligation to coax them out of the eternal damnation of Dirtbagdom and back to the righteous path of Normal Life. Everybody deserves the chance to enjoy such blissful opportunities as superannuation, funeral insurance and crippling credit card and/or mortgage debt.

Ryan Siacci, Esq.
December 2019

  1. Well written. I am too old to be a dirtbag, nowadays they call me a “minimalist”, but I agree with the post. Even if some of the above items can be easily stolen without too much trouble.such fruits and t-shirts.

  2. I am too old to be one of the fortunate ones also, but admit my eyes brimful with wistful tears hearing stories of the endless adventure, pouring timelessly through the lives of the blessed few. out is a sad fact that my greatest realistic wish this Christmas is for a powerful vacuum cleaner, preferably robotic or hang charging and reed thin. Of course with a half decent mobile home it would be totally redundant , so I’ll keep saving my pennies for that.

    So grateful for my own excerpts of the song that goes forever, when my kids are a little older I still may yet disappear into the Himalayas with just a dirty blanket and a pair of la sportivas. If I take a phone too I’ll see you on Instagram.

    Thanks for the great posts, look forward to more and maybe a shared adventure next time my shoes bring me home.

    1. Matt, I remember climbing Sideshow Bob: you had no shoes and helmet but a handy 70m rope and a pair of denim. It was fun placing cams between death blocks…

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