My boyfriend and I were your typical young "urban climbers", more or less: living in Brooklyn, working in Manhattan, staying out too late on the weekends and trying to catch as many hours outdoors at the crag as we could. Nevertheless, we were never really that satisfied. One day, as we sat rehashing all the unpleasant details of our respective days (pushy commuters, long work hours, train problems, etc.), I had an idea: why didn’t we leave? Seriously, I asked, what were we working towards? Did we want to be New Yorkers? If not, then why tough it out in the city when the only thing we liked about it at that point was how close we were to the Gunks? After a long conversation (and nearly half a bottle of bourbon) we were convinced that greener pastures were calling us.
We decided to spend three months on the road, checking out the scenery, soaking in some Americana and hitting up some of the most classic climbing spots in the Southern United States. Over the course of a few crazy weeks, we packed up all of our earthly possessions and stashed them away, loaded up a pick-up truck and kissed our bewildered friends, family, and neurotic old city lives goodbye.
The New River Gorge Bridge, WV. Photo by Kevin Riley.
The New River Gorge Bridge, WV. Photo by Kevin Riley.
Our first real travel day took us on a winding (albeit unintentional) detour through the back woods and factory towns of North Carolina and Virginia to the New River Gorge, in Fayetteville, West Virginia. Unfortunately, the weather gods were not on our side for the beginning of the trip, and we arrived to the New shortly after a fresh blanket of snow — which, to our chagrin, had already begun dripping into slush by the time we hopped out of the truck.
Determined not to let the weather get in our way, we hiked straight out to the crag, with thick, sticky orange mud clinging to our ankles and calves in clumps. We managed to get one route in before the one relatively dry piece of rock we had found started dripping and darkness came on. Despite the poor weather, the New radiated a quiet, misty beauty all its own.
Kevin Riley bouldering some V-easies on the perfect, bulbous sandstone of the Stone Fort. Photo by Meredith Rike.
Kevin Riley bouldering some V-easies on the perfect, bulbous sandstone of the Stone Fort. Photo by Meredith Rike.
As we headed back into Fayetteville, a little road sign boasted that it was the, “Coolest Small Town,” in inconspicuous green and white signage. My first thought was that it was a pretty big claim for an admittedly small highway town in rural West Virginia. Yet, in many ways Fayetteville lived up to its reputation. The close-knit community of climbers and non-climbers alike were quick to welcome us into their businesses, their homes and their crags. Everywhere we went, people were ready with a smile and a few words of conversation — a characteristic that, as a Southerner myself (originally from South Carolina), I absolutely love.
And, although we have been trying our best to survive on tuna and beef jerky, our first night we splurged on what was possibly the best pizza I have ever sampled at Fayetteville’s own Pies and Pints. Seriously, if you are ever in town, do not miss a trip to this spot. The word ‘pizza’ does not even begin to encompass the deliciousness and creativeness of their pies, and they have a beer list to rival any spot.
Finally, a special thanks goes out to Maura and Gene Kistler of Waterstone Outdoors, who generously let us take over their firstborn’s bedroom for a few days. They were also nice enough to introduce us to their cool gang of local folks and let us mill about their house while we waited out the rain.
Meredith Rike in the Gunks, NY. Photo by Kevin Riley.
Meredith Rike in the Gunks, NY. Photo by Kevin Riley.
And rain it did, day after day after day…. So we became experts on hiking out in the rain, and our efforts were rewarded—we managed to find fun, dry routes to get on everyday. And when, on our last day in West Virginia, the sun finally did shine in all its splendor over the gorge, we were beside ourselves with excitement. Already taken with the natural beauty of the New in the rain, the sun only served to illuminate what we had been missing in the fog: miles and miles of colorful, soft sandstone walls (finally dry!), that your hands and feet just want to stick to, practically gravitate to. Around every bend we discovered more chimneys, roofs, corners, flakes and all sorts of features to play on. Plus, an Indiana Jones type system of ropes, ladders and natural hallways is in place to grant access from the rim down to the main wall, which makes the hike in all the more fun.
After five days, we left the New exhausted, but in high spirits and in sunshine. We pointed the truck south and drove through the late afternoon into the green hills of Tennessee.
Our first day in Tennessee we spent at the Stone Fort (aka Little Rock City), a nice cluster of sandstone boulders right outside of Chattanooga. As a relatively new climber, bouldering is good for me because it forces me to commit to moves I might not otherwise trust. Plus, the sun was shining and the walk in was casual, so it was a nice break from braving the elements at the New.
While at LRC we befriended a fellow refugee from New York City who had been traveling for a few months and showed us around the area. He said that he was training for Yosemite and had that lean, focused look of someone who has been climbing non-stop for quite some time. I couldn’t help thinking that maybe I will look like that after a few more weeks…Either way, I decided, if I am climbing half as well as that guy after this trip, I will be happy. We exchanged information and promised to send him a few good shots we took.
Next on the list: the T-wall and Horseshoe Canyon Ranch. Stay tuned for more reports from the road!
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