Climbing August/September 2018

In 1990, I shakily crimped my way up the micro-pockets on Touch Monkey (5.13a) at Cochiti Mesa, New Mexico. My climbing partner Randall Jett and I had cobbled together a guidebook for northern New Mexico and needed cover imagery, which the Albuquerque photographer Dave Benyak would snap. As Dave shot from the rim behind me, I led up in a tight pair of Asolo Runouts, a novice redpointer on my hardest lead yet. I made it to the crux, and with strength to spare just needed to make one last snatch. Instead, I yelled “Tension!”; I was scared of falling, of failing, of something. Still, Dave clicked away. “That was great, Matt!” he said while I dangled there, feeling like the world’s biggest loser. “I think we nailed it.” We nailed it?…

INBOX NO BOLTS! I concur with “Silence: A Tragedy” [climbing.com/unsentsilence]—whether the article is spoof or not, there is no place for bolts when there are good natural placements. Further, I agree that Adam Ondra, despite his amazing athleticism and dedication, is dumbing down the rock. Surely people who want to engage in pre-bolted lines, often with preset biners, have to be allowed to create these strange efforts. However, such hardware should not be placed where chockstones and/or even pitons allow for safe passage. There is inherent in the heritage of climbing an unspoken but pervasively recognized expectation of leaving the rock as unscathed as possible. This is to maintain a semblance of norms for how to honorably create and climb routes, but moreover to preserve the aesthetics of the rock. PETE YOUNG, VIA EMAIL F-BOMBS…

One at a time, the worshippers disappear into a 30-foot-deep chimney on the east face of a 130-foot granite spire in the Ugandan jungle, an hour north of the country’s capital, Kampala. Just inside, they kneel and pray to the rock god Kkungu, as have others over hundreds of years, part of the traditional religion of the Buganda people of central Uganda. The worshippers offer coffee beans, cowrie shells, and what’s known locally as “tonto,” a brew made partly from bananas. They believe the spirit can help them find husbands or wives, jobs or money, or heal them from sickness. “People who come want to get blessings,” says Sadiq Sebyala, who instructs worshippers at the spire. “They want to [have a] happy life.” But recently, Kkungu Spire has lured a different type…

In the past nine months, Yosemite Valley’s El Capitan has seen two accidents involving speed climbers, the Nose speed record broken three times, and two other deaths seemingly related to speed climbing. First, on October 11, 2017, Quinn Brett was paralyzed after a 100-footer while attempting the Nose in a day. On May 3, Hans Florine broke both legs when a nut popped and he hit a ledge on the Nose. On May 30, Alex Honnold and Tommy Caldwell climbed the Nose in 2:10:15, claiming a new record. On June 2, Jason Wells and Tim Klein died while speed climbing on the Freeblast portion of the Salathé Wall. And on June 4 and June 6, Honnold and Caldwell broke the Nose record twice more, clocking in at 2:01:53 and 1:58:07,…

Squeeze through the “Fat Man’s Misery,” a limestone crevice that tapers to eight inches, and you’ll be spit out at the base of Albany, New York’s, first crag: Thacher State Park. A rare sport area in a state mostly bereft of well-bolted climbs, Thacher may soon become one of the few large-scale Northeast sport destinations. In fact, until now, the state’s capital was only a great climber’s town if you liked driving: The Gunks are 75 miles south, and Keene Valley, the epicenter of Adirondack climbing, sits 120 miles north. In between, there is nothing but a few climbing gyms. On July 1, 2017, the cliffs at John Boyd Thacher State Park opened, giving climbers access to a 90-foot-tall escarpment of featured dark-gray limestone. The cliff houses more than 50 bolted…

Stop crying. That comes later. You’ve prepared for this. You’re ready. You’ve spent an hour placing cams and nuts on the ground, yanking on them, questioning if they’re good, and settling on, “I guess—probably?” You’ve read John Long’s Climbing Anchors, and in a no-stress environment can easily recall some of it. You’ve been “mentored” by that guy who carries everything he needs to build a 3-1 pulley on his harness while bouldering at the gym. You’ve prepared enough that it’s turned into procrastination. Suck it up and start leading. Here’s how: 1 RACK UP You’ll want a lot of gear on this 30-foot, roadside 5.4. Double cams from 00 to No. 4, plus offsets. Double nuts from 1–13. Double offset nuts 7–11. Tricams. Enough Hexes that the local rancher thinks his herd escaped.…