New and Experienced Climbers over 50 #42
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Lori, while my work is but a drop in the bucket if compared to some of my peers, some folks here, I have done first ascents from sport routes to big walls. I spent a lot of time thinking about new routes, new possibilities, dreaming, planning, scheming, thinking about how it might go, worrying, oh girl, the anxiety of committing, over and over and over, till I wore my anxiety like a coat of prickly armor. Why? I asked myself over and over, why? Why do this? I've been hurt doing it, too; badly and more than once. Recoveries got harder, went slower, had longer lasting consequences. As I aged and matured (somewhat), of course my motives for continuing changed too. None of us are static. Here is the fundamental question I began to ask myself - why do you do it? I realized that over the course of my life, when asked, my answers were coming from the lips of others. I was repeating what I'd read, what I'd heard, what had been said around me. They were reasons, but were they mine? Truly? Is it all about legacy? Is it the thrill of seeing my name in a guidebook, some clever route name, me beaming with pride at my accomplishment? You see, while I would have sworn it wasn't the case, well, at times, it was the case. But of course there were other reasons too. Adventure. Working the white spaces on the edge of maps. Going up some dihedral no other climber had ever laid eyes on, much less climbed it. The feeling, that feeling, oh my god, of being a rock astronaut adrift along with Major Tom, beyond all horizons, beyond all help. And it was craft too, the construction of a good sport route, and then sending it; very satisfying all by itself. Finding some rock in the woods, realizing it hadn't been touched, then, maybe weeks months or ever years later, actually touching it, climbing it, and walking away. I came to understand it was the experience I was chasing, not the routes, not the numbers, not the guidebook entries, not the respect of my peers, and not for posterity. It was the doing that counted. It's important to say I did not come to climbing in an area with a rich history and large numbers of climbers like JT or Yosemite. More crowded areas come with more reasons, more chances to step on the toes of others. I love telling stories about these experiences. But I also prefer to remain somewhat, reluctant, to share the details, to call attention to the location, to encourage others to go there and try it. I'm sure there are many reasons in the soup of my ego for that too, but the core of it, in most cases, is to preserve something; not the route, but the experience of exploring, finding, doing, in a vacuum, out in the wild lands. With a map, pictures, topos and written instructions, that experience I seek is impossible to find; impossible. And yet it would be that very experience I would most want to share. So by telling no one, or really, a very very small circle of friends, I am inviting others to go find their own mysteries. In our world of instant communications and god-like AI that can find my spots from a single picture in some cases, the chances for true white space adventure are still there but they are receding. We seem to want to map out every last detail like some Mandelbrot malfunction, digging ever deeper into the move by move minutia of every last climb in the world. I felt and still feel, that in large measure, this very human need to map out everything could kill the very thing I love most about climbing. It's not an all or nothing proposition, imo. I would decide on a route by route basis, whether this belonged in the public sphere, or not. In some cases I'm still mulling it over. This was a lot of words to get to my punchline: Sometimes the best gift of all, is nothing but an invitation, by way of story, to go out there and find our own adventures. This was a big "letting-go" for me. I tried and still try, to let go of the need to publish, the need for recognition, the urge for competition, the need to possess. All those things are part and parcel to being human, and they certainly influenced me. And finally I realized it was all just me, getting older and finding ways to let go of something I thought was mine when in fact it belonged to everyone else, all along. |
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philip bonewrote: Oh crap, I forgot in my earlier comments about XXX and that one cliff at Table Mountain. What a travesty; he can be a horse's ass in so many ways. |
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Good morning Cherokee. Nice post (as always). Of course, you and I have had this conversation. More than once. And we've proven that yes, "oil" and "water" can mix as (I think) we've always remained respectful and friendly about all these types of issues even though we disagree pretty basically about whether and how to keep track of what routes are what and what's new. You know, history. Some of us are somewhat compulsive about that stuff (OK, more than somewhat). As of last summer I've started getting questions about those areas near the curves. Young climbers poking about. I've been pretty opaque in my answers (I don't have much information to not be opaque with!). If others are going to re-discover the area and do "second first ascents" there, could we at least keep your crews' names for the various rock formations (if not the routes themselves)? What about the few climbs there that include bolts and have thus obviously been climbed before? Should we let others find them and give them random names? I'd sure like to save some of your history. |
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Brad, I love you man. Always have. I respect your climbing. And I love your guidebooks and your policy of trying every route in those books. That's another sort of experience and weirdly, a white-space. I imagine a lot of your 2nd ascents are much like firsts, in feel. Anyway, I owe you a visit to one of these places. Let's make it happen this summer, my friend (while I still can). |
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Please edit out the name ^^ |
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Thoroughly enjoying this conversation. The only “truly” consistent observation I’ve made over my years of climbing is that all climbers seem to be subject to the ”effect” of what we collectively describe as “gravity.” I love all of it. |
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Li Huwrote: I appreciate your posts about your training and climbing. Thanks, and please keep them coming. |
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Wow …. Some great responses right here! Li, WF, Phylp, Daniel, Ed, Randy, OLH, Tom, Rich, Apogee, Emil, Jim, Kris, MM, Jay, Nick, Tim K, Cherokee, Bryan’s, Philip, Brad. Thanks all for your $.02 I appreciate peoples frank answers to questions about Climbing Ethics. Brad, Philip Thank you for the information you share. I was looking forward to visiting the Pinnacles this week, but my usual partner-who has a job- decided to blow me off and instead took his GF for a week at a Mountain Cabin. Such is life. Looking to visit Sonora Pass this year as well. Later all |
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Here’s an excerpt from my book Advanced Rock Climbing, published in 2018. Although it’s an instructional book, I included this for historical context to the chapter on sport climbing: “A “sport climb,” by strict definition, is a climb that consists entirely of fixed hardware for protection and for the anchor. To lead a sport climb, you’ll only need quickdraws, slings, and carabiners. Usually the fixed hardware consists of reliable bolts, although in rare cases they’re supplemented by a fixed piton or two. The modern standard has evolved to a minimum of ⅜-inch-diameter stainless steel for bolts, although most bolt replacers now use ½-inch diameter as the evolving standard. In general, most sport climbs don’t have dangerously runout sections, but there are exceptions. On harder climbs this can be a section where you simply can’t let go long enough to clip a bolt, or a section of easier climbing relative to the grade of the crux. The term “sport climb” wasn’t heard in the United States until the 1980s. Before that, through the 1970s and into the early 1980s, a “ground-up” ethic prevailed at many traditional climbing areas in the United States, like Yosemite, Tahquitz and Suicide Rocks, and Joshua Tree, California, and Eldorado Canyon, Colorado. First ascents were done without preview, and bolts were drilled on the lead, often from precarious stances. As far back as 1972, visionary climber Doug Robinson wrote: “But every climb is not for every climber; the ultimate climbs are not democratic. The fortunate climbs protect themselves by being unprotectable and remain a challenge that can be solved only by boldness and commitment backed solidly by technique.” But as techniques progressed, climbers were drawn to steeper and blanker faces, where it was impossible to let go with both hands to hand-drill and place a bolt. The use of hooks for aid made it possible to drill bolts on the lead, ground up, on these steeper routes. The zenith of the ground-up era was undoubtedly John Bachar’s lead of the Bachar-Yerian route (5.11c R) in Yosemite in summer 1981, which follows a vertical water streak studded with knobs leading up the intimidating 400-foot west face of Tuolumne Meadow’s Medlicott Dome. Bachar risked 100-foot falls venturing into unknown terrain. To this day the route has become a test piece for elite face climbers wising to test both physical and psychological limits. But there haven’t been many takers—in almost forty years the route has seen only a couple dozen ascents. In Europe, sport climbing was well established in France by the 1980s, principally due to the nature of the rock: overhanging limestone riddled with finger pockets but devoid of crack systems. For free climbing to progress, top-down rappel bolted routes seemed the next logical progression of the sport, and French free climbers soon eclipsed Americans constrained by traditional ground-up ethics. Alan Watts is widely credited with establishing the first US sport climbs at Smith Rocks, Oregon. In 1983 Watts climbed Watts Tot’s (5.12b) up a vertical, nearly featureless face, and Chain Reaction (5.12c) up a spectacular, overhanging arête, ushering in an era that would change American rock climbing forever. In his Smith Rock State Park guidebook Watts writes about Chain Reaction: “With that one ascent all the pieces fell into place, and it became obvious what we had to do. If something as outrageous as Chain Reaction went free, then almost everything would go. All the elements were there—featured rock, rappel bolting, cleaning, hangdogging, lots of free time, sufficient technical skills, and no opposition. The final point was key. I wasn’t pursuing my style to revolt against the established norms in climbing. All I was trying to do was tick another route off my list. And I was using the most efficient process that I could devise to do that. I might not have been a rebel, but I didn’t give a damn about doing things exactly how they’d been done before. I truly believed that I had found a better way to push limits of difficulty.” Smith Rock State Park quickly became a US sport climbing mecca, and today the park boasts more than 1,800 sport routes. Soon, sport climbs were sprouting up everywhere, but in the 1980s and early 1990s at traditional climbing areas like Yosemite and Joshua Tree, top-down rappel-bolted sport climbs weren’t widely accepted. An era that can only be termed “bolt wars” ensued as staunch traditionalists chopped rappel-placed bolts as fast as they went up. In 1985, after returning from a climbing trip to France, where he witnessed the evolution of French sport climbing, a young and talented upstart by the name of Christian Griffith established the first sport climb in Eldorado Canyon, Colorado, Paris Girls (5.13a), which was summarily chopped. The bolts were reinstalled, and Griffith went on to establish Eldorado’s most difficult face routes at the time—Desdichado (5.13c), up a spectacular overhang, and Lakme (5.13b), up a stunning arête on Eldorado’s Redgarden Wall. While Eldorado Canyon, with its majority of traditional climbs, never became a sport climbing center, other Colorado areas like Boulder Canyon, Shelf Road, Clear Creek Canyon, and Rifle Mountain Park would become major sport climbing areas. In 1986 visiting French climber Jean-Baptiste Tribout established the first climb in America to be graded 5.14 with his redpoint of To Bolt or Not to Be (5.14a) at Smith Rocks. This served as a wake-up call for American rock climbers that the future for increasing standards of difficulty would be through sport climbing. While the bolt wars raged at traditional bastions like Joshua Tree and Yosemite Valley, isolated areas without traditional history were simultaneously being developed into popular sport climbing areas—places like Owens River Gorge and Clark Mountain in California, the Calico Hills of the Red Rocks in Nevada, Kentucky’s Red River Gorge, and the Rumney Cliffs of New Hampshire. By the mid-1990s climbing gyms began to sprout up in almost every major urban center in America. A new generation of climbers, who had learned on artificial walls, ventured outside, naturally drawn to sport climbing. This new generation largely eschewed scary runout traditional climbs and adopted a healthy appetite for well-protected, fun sport climbs. The bolt wars ended, and sport climbing was here to stay. The next controversy, which has continued to this day, is the retro-bolting of older traditional routes, adding bolts to make the routes safer for the masses. It will be up to the next generation to define the future of the sport, but it’s my hope that retro-bolting the Bachar Yerian route and routes like it will never happen.” |
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Lori, PRP is not going to heal a torn meniscus, but it is your money. If I made one suggestion, it would be to go to Kerlan-Jobe for your surgery. They had no trouble putting two new knees into my 74 year old body and they have the best surgeons and are the least likely to fuck it up. |
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Jan, my main climbing partner is facing a knee replacement. He was hoping to make it to -6 months to retirement but feels he isn't going to last that long. He's also afraid of the possible outcomes. And short word of wisdom I can pass along, given your experience? |
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Bob, that’s a great excerpt- this quote is especially apropos to the earlier part of this discussion about the ‘safety’ of some routes: As far back as 1972, visionary climber Doug Robinson wrote: “But every climb is not for every climber; the ultimate climbs are not democratic. The fortunate climbs protect themselves by being unprotectable and remain a challenge that can be solved only by boldness and commitment backed solidly by technique.” |
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I put up a route last fall: on sight, ground up, natural pro. Traditional yes? My companion feels it is too dangerous. He adds 2 bolts on TR with my bemused consent. Trad lite? |
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Good post Bob.
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Guy, are you saying that sport climbs are open to retro-bolting by community consent? See below: we are not on the same page. I don’t want to out this person. |
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philip bonewrote: Well from what I have experienced that would be a big yes. In Bishop at the China Wall a young person died falling while trying to clip bolt #3 …. It took about 3 days for locals to get to adding a bolt. At Willie after 3-4 broken ankles happened while trying to make an awkward clip - due to a hold breaking off- the boys wasted no time in fixing that one. No general outrage over adding bolts. I also think that there is a “time limit” - the farther in the past the more likely it is now “community property”. I have done exactly what you describe - adding the bolts immediately after the FA - on repel. After all you got the drill right there with you, why knott I see, by reading between the lines, that you folks face similar issues in your neck of the woods and have arrived at an understanding. So who is the culprit who you can’t mention? |
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Lori Milaswrote: That looks so beautiful, Lori. It makes me want to go to there. Sorry you're having so much trouble with your knees. I hope it works out. PS Nice post, Cherokee! |
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These examples raise the question to me...who is the 'community'? Is it defined after a polling of most all users of an area express their voice on the idea of retrobolting? Or a small group of motivated individuals who believe they are representing the 'community', without any true polling of most users? If there is a way to create the former, I could be convinced (though the tyranny of the majority always rubs me a little wrong), but it's the latter that seems to be the source of most route changes, without any real consensus, and saying they are acting on behalf of the 'community'. That really rubs me the wrong way. |
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dragonswrote: It is beautiful, dragons. I think you’d love it. It’s kind of a wonderland back there with its own unique plants and trees. Come stay with us and we can go explore! |
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We did a sauna this evening. Ice is finally out. Pond is beautiful and the water is just as cold as it was last week when covered in ice.. |















