STARTING HOLD - #33 > OCTOBER 2009

GIVING THANKS

AREA DEVELOPERS, WE SALUTE YOU //

Ah, fall, my favorite time of year. Many poets and writers equate fall with old age, decay, and the inevitable slide towards death (winter). For us climbers, though, it’s more like spring, a time of energy and new life — ‘tis the season, as they say.

It’s these mornings, in the months of Send-tember and Rock-tober, that I’m excited to open the door, rope and draws slung rakishly over my shoulder, and get a face full of the chilled, dry air — the kind of air that lets you stick to previously un-stick-to-able slopers, whisks the sweat from your brow before you’re back on the ground, and at times carries the sharp smell of burning leaves. (Sadly, I’m not as excited as I could be, since I recently popped a ligament in my knee while bouldering . . . in the gym, no less! But still, I’m excited.) And if there’s one thing I want you all to remember this season, while you’re out there pulling down, it’s that those climbs and areas didn’t just spring up by themselves. That’s right! Climbing spots like Bishop, the Gunks, the Virgin River Gorge, Rocky Mountain National Park, etc. were the product of wandering climbers with vision, grit, and a taste for adventure. In fact, this issue’s dedicated to those brave developers — those who make a habit of finding blank stone and creating climbs.

Sport areas, especially, require serious elbow grease, time, and money (all those bolts, hangers, and drill bits aren’t free!) to develop. Just ask Luke Kretschmar, who found a supersteep limestone crag, Victoria Canyon, just miles from his home in Rapid City, South Dakota. He tells the tale of bolting the massive overhangs in “Steeped in South Dakota,” p. 58. But then again, finding and cleaning boulders is no picnic, either, especially in the humid-in-thesummer/ frozen-in-the-winter, private-property/ public-property checkerboard that is the eastern United States. In our interview with the New York boulder hunter, John “Kootsy” Kuphal (“The Koots is Loose,” p.44), we get some tips for finding good stone. And what about the eight areas Jonathan Siegrist and Andy Mann hit on their 2,000-mile climbing roadtrip this summer (“The Onsight,” p.52)? Each spot had its first ascentionists.

The point being, someone had to do it first. For the trains to run, someone put down the rails; to know it’s safe to eat raspberries, someone took a risk and tried one; and to find out you shouldn’t wipe with poison ivy, some poor sap took the fall for us all. So when you’re having the best session of your life on that super-classic problem, stop and give thanks to those who stalked through the woods — probably for days without success, lugging pads, brushes, and a dream — until finally they saw that chunk of rock and knew it was good. And if you’re that sort who isn’t content with climbing where others have climbed before, our hats off to you and your obsession with the new — it makes all our climbing lives easier.

Now that I’m (temporarily) out of climbing commission, maybe I’ll take this time to Google Earth my surroundings and go for a little hike — you never know what you’ll find out here in the foothills of Colorado, especially now that the leaves are thinning. Happy hunting!