Let’s talk about fatherhood for a bit, how has that affected your outlook on climbing?

I had to learn to become much more patient and flexible, neither of which come easily for me. My brother Mike has two sons, so I benefited a lot by watching and learning from their experiences. You need to be extremely organized and maximize whatever time you have, but you appreciate the entire experience much more, which makes every success that much sweeter.

So how do you manage to juggle a job and family, and still climb at a level that most would consider pretty high?

I have a really awesome, supportive & accommodating wife. I wouldn’t be able to do it without her patience & generosity. She tolerates a lot of crappy weather, crags she hates, and whining from me. Last year she repeatedly forded Fourmile Creek while 6 months pregnant so I could climb Triage, and she post-holed through a foot of snow so I could climb at The Monastery in March. Before we were married she stood strapped to the base of The Totem Pole, literally getting pummeled by waves from the shark-infested Tasman Sea to belay me on The Free Route. She’s a real gamer.

Sounds like it! Tell us about your new route, Apogee Pending.

The route climbs probably the steepest, most consistently overhanging panel of stone at Shelf, so in that sense it’s relatively gymnastic and athletic. It begins with the only real bit of “typical” Shelf climbing, with ~10 feet of ticky-tacky moves on near vertical rock. The next section is completely anti-Shelf, with big holds and a huge dyno that, no matter how many times I did it, always made me apprehensive.  Then the major bummer on the wall, a huge flake with a 6” crack behind it that allows a no-hands rest.  If that flake ever falls off, the route would become ultra-classic and substantially harder I suspect.

The hardest moves come right off the flake, moving left to a beautiful section of pink & beige-swirled rock.  This stone has a lot of features but they are all sloping and small. The crux is a big crank to a positive but very shallow (half-pad) two-finger pocket that you latch open-handed then roll up into a crimp, which is regrettably rather tweaky. Then swing the feet over to a good foot and make a big rightwards stab into another 2-finger pocket. That move is probably the hardest move on the route, as it requires good finger strength and precise movement.

After another cruxy reach to a small hold, it’s just enduro pockets on some really cool, sculpted rock that climbs almost like tufa flowstone with slopey liebacks and pinches. You get one more bad shake, then the upper crux is a desperate reach to a hard-to-see crimp. It’s the sort of move you would never fall on off the dog, but when you’re pumped, the hold just seems so far away, it’s hard to get up the nerve to go for it. And admittedly, the bolting is somewhat “old-school”, as I tend to do things the Smith Rock way, since that’s where I “grew up” as a climber so-to-speak, so you’re looking at a decent fall if you blow that move.

So you bolted the line then?

Dan Durland installed an anchor above the wall some time in the late 80′s or early 90′s, according to his partner Darryl Roth. Apparently Darryl had a “turbo” drill rig which he lent to Dan, and while drilling these anchors the battery pack shorted and smoke started coming from the backpack containing the batteries (which Dan was wearing). Dan frantically rapped to the ground and resolved the matter, though unfortunately he never went back up to bolt the wall. I suspect that they never attempted the route for whatever reason, at least I didn’t see any evidence of previous climbers. I installed the other 6 bolts on the wall in mid-February, and sent it on March 13.

Do you think this will inspire other 5.14′s in the area, does the potential exist at Shelf?

It’s certainly inspired me! The entire process has been extremely rewarding, despite a lot of work, and I look forward to establishing more lines in the future.

A couple years ago there was a thread on MP about “No Hard Climbing at Shelf”, and at that time, I thought like most everyone else that the crag was tapped out, and really didn’t have the potential for hard lines due to the nature of the rock (too featured, not steep-enough, not tall enough). Darryl Roth joined the discussion and vehemently disagreed, describing this wall as an example of hard routes just waiting to be climbed. I pretty much dismissed it at the time, but kept it in the back of my mind.

In March of last year (2010) I exhausted all of the existing hard routes at Shelf, and out of sheer boredom, decided to try the open project “Wild Virus” at Cactus Cliff (now Carnage). I figured a route like that, on perhaps the single most popular cliff, in the single-most climber-populated state, would have been sent if it were possible. Much to my surprise, it was quite possible, and quite good as well. At that point my eyes were really opened to the potential at Shelf, and I started noticing all these features I had walked by many times.

There is no doubt in my mind that there is extensive potential for new hard routes at Shelf. I can think of at least 3 lines, two of which have some hardware installed, that will be in the 5.14 range. I think many of us, myself included, have a very narrow view of what a 5.14 route should look like, in terms of length, steepness and continuity, but if you consider what exists in Lander, the Frankenjura, or Margalef, there’s no reason Shelf couldn’t have many more 5.14 or harder routes, except perhaps for a lack of motivated developers.

Hard climbing on small holds isn’t really in fashion anymore, do you think it’ll see a repeat any time soon?

I totally agree, although really, the holds on Apogee Pending are generally pretty big for a route of this grade (with exception of the somewhat tweaky two-finger pockets in the crux). It’s certainly a lot more modern than any of the other hard routes at Shelf. However, I don’t expect it to be repeated any time soon, primarily due to its location. For whatever reason, people who climb at that level don’t fancy Shelf. Maybe if we changed the crag name to “The Razor” or something exciting like that the local honemasters would be less ashamed to climb there! There are certainly many climbers on the Front Range (and throughout CO) who would be able to climb it if they chose to.

On Mountain Project you reference the fact that certain features are off to “earn the grade.” Can you explain this a little further? Is this a pure line or is the difficulty a little contrived?

There’s a seam with intermittent pods that heads up and right from the top of the flake at mid-height.  It’s possible to climb this seam and skip the first crux. The moves this way are not trivial, but they are much easier. I suspect the route would be in the 13d range if climbed this way. I struggled a lot with what to do about this “problem”. The climbing is far, far superior (in terms of quality) to the left, and the moves happen to be harder. I suppose back in the golden age of sport climbing the solution would be to fill the seam with glue. I considered that option, but decided it was silly to punish the rock for the imperfections of the human ego (both mine, and that of future ascentionists). We’re all adults here, so why don’t we just pretend the seam is filled with glue, and spare the rock?

Inevitably, somebody will climb the route up the seam, and they will either claim the higher grade undeservedly, or they will down-grade it, and I’m OK with that. I’m confident in the grade the way I climbed it, and I wouldn’t be offended if future generations apply a slash grade to the route for climbing it different ways. Shelf is no stranger to contrived difficulty; it’s the nature of the rock, and ultimately the nature of sport climbing at large.

I think a little bit of contrivance is warranted for a good line like this, and there is plenty of precedent around the country. It’s possible to traverse right to Sunshine Dihedral at the 9th bolt on To Bolt or Not To Be, its possible to traverse around the arête at the 6th bolt of Darkness at Noon, its possible to climb into the big scoop on Huge for a no-hands rest just before the crux. These are all classic routes and we all agree to accept a bit of contrivance to keep them classic (and hard). I would say however, if your route is contrived, please spell out the contrivance so that others don’t have to guess at it, and can “repeat the feat” if they want to.

That is what I hoped to accomplish by explaining the way I climbed the route on MP, and that’s one of the great benefits of the internet age—it makes it a lot easier to share this sort of information with other climbers.

Any significance to the name Apogee Pending?

Yes. In space jargon, “apogee” means the point at which an orbiting object is furthest from the earth, so its like a peak or high point. The name is a reflection of my belief that we have yet to reach the apex of what is possible in climbing, be it on the world stage, at Shelf road in particular, or in my own career. I’d like to think Rob Candelaria was indeed wrong when he (allegedly) said there is “no hard climbing at Shelf Road.” Perhaps we just haven’t bolted the right lines yet.

What have you got your sights set on next, any other big projects in the works?

There’s nothing in the short term that I’m dead set on. There are a few things here and there that I’d like to check out and see where it goes from there. I’m interested in several more projects at Shelf but its getting to be too warm, so they will have to wait till next year.

Anything else?

I’d like to add a big THANK YOU to Darryl Roth for motivating me to do this route. The process has been one of the highlights of my climbing career.

Awesome, thanks Mark!

Tell me about the new toilet at Supercrack/Donnelly/BotB, where did that come from?

The toilet was paid for by Friends of Indian Creek and a host of generous sponsors who should be mentioned. They are the Access Fund, Connie Kemmerer, Michael, Julie, and Hayden Kennedy, Lightner Foundation of Wyoming, Black Diamond Equipment, Outdoor Research, Jackson Hole Mountain Guides, Wild Country/Excalibur, Bureau of Land Management, Sharp End Publishing, Pagan Mountaineering, and Gearheads.

Originally we wanted a composting toilet near the Bridger Jack Campsites, but for a number of reasons we had to move away from that. The most important was that doing the maintenance on the unit was not possible given the road (the truck can’t get there). When the BLM decided to go forward with their parking lot at Supercrack last spring, we decided that location would be the best place for the toilet. The sponsors agreed. The thing is already getting a lot of use.

You guys recently elected a new board, who are the new members?

We have a new board of psyched people: Me (Prez), Ralph Ferrara (Treasurer), Chris Kalous from Carbondale, Stephen Smith from Durango, Brad Barlage from SLC, Jeanine Saia from Moab, Josh Gross from Boulder, and Noah Bigwood from SLC.

What are the most pressing issues at the moment?

We have a number of issues we need to work on in the Creek. Camping is always an issue, as human waste is the BLM’s single biggest “problem” with the climbers. There are thousands of climber-days in the Creek and that popularity is our sport’s worst enemy. So, we are working with the BLM to make sure camping stays something like it has been, as everyone loves the wild nature of it.

We also have to work with them on the parking issue at Scarface. The highway department and the BLM have a serious problem with cars being parked along 211. No one wants to see an accident and it is a skinny road. So, something is going to have to be worked out, as it’s perhaps the second most popular crag there.

What’s the latest on the new campsites at Creek Pasture? I’ve heard there was going to be a toilet, is that true?

No toilet but the FOIC will probably, depending on funding, have the usual porta-potties out there in the spring. The sites are being designated either this week or next… I haven’t gotten a report yet from the BLM.

It appears you guys have broadened your scope to include the climbing around Moab, can you tell me about that decision?

Last year the board voted to expand the scope of the Friends of Indian Creek. Very few climbers come to the desert ONLY for Indian Creek. So, Friends of Indian Creek is going to begin to work with the land managers in the greater Moab area. There is a lot going on and its a daunting task. We have two national parks, another sector of the BLM, and the Forest service, as well as a few private land holders and, well, UDOT (the highway department) to work with. However, there is no other group in the region to do it and someone needs to speak up for climbers rights. The most immediate issue is the Resource Management Plan that will be put forth from Arches National Park. We will need a serious letter writing campaign to make sure our interests are best met. Even if you don’t like climbing in Arches, this is important. The Park Service manages Arches from the same offices that it does Canyonlands, so any plan from Arches is the most likely plan for the other park to adopt in the future.

How can climbers get involved and help out?

The Friends of Indian Creek exists because of the popularity of the area. We are trying to mitigate the effects of that popularity in a positive way for the environment and for climbers, and we can only do it with the support of the people who come to the region. Climbers can help a lot in the next year by becoming a member of the Access Fund and designating that you wish to be a member of the Friends of Indian Creek. We are going to start a dual membership program with the A.F. It will help us to maintain the wag bag program, keep the toilets in place, and other programs we are trying to do with land managers in the area.

Also, Friends of Indian Creek has a brand spanking new Facebook page where you can get the latest news and updates. Head on over there and “like” us.

A friend and I recently replaced several anchors on Independence Pass, thanks to some gear from the American Safe Climbing Association (ASCA). One bolt was particularly terrifying, and it felt good to upgrade some popular routes so that folks can continue to safely enjoy them for many years to come. The work was time consuming, and it got me thinking about a guy I met, through a mutual friend, who has replaced an incredible amount of crappy anchors. In fact, if you’ve spent any time climbing around Moab, chances are you’ve lowered or rappelled off an anchor that was replaced by Sam Lightner, Jr. He and his crew have been tirelessly at work, upgrading the old mank scattered across the desert, from Castleton to Wall Street. I recently caught up with him to find out more about what he’s been up to, how he got into it, and what else he enjoys in the desert.

It seems your name has become synonymous with anchor replacement in the Moab area, how long have you been replacing anchors for?

I actually did my first anchor replacement at Vedauwoo in like 1987. That was on Fall Wall, the bolts were buttonheads with Leeper hangers from the early 70’s or late 60’s. Since then I guess I have replaced stuff in the Tetons, City of Rocks, areas around Banff, and of course Thailand.

How did you get started?

I just noticed it needed to be done, and did it. I think that’s how any act of philanthropy gets started. In the desert I can usually count on the fact that the anchors need some updating. Even people adding bolts to anchors are usually not using ½ inch stainless and chain (instead of webbing). Thailand was a big deal to get going, the scale of what needed to be done required getting a lot of other climbers involved. The desert is pretty simple, but it’s grunt work. You do have to lug the steel a long ways.

Where does the hardware come from? ASCA? ARI?

I’ve been working with Chris MacNamara and Greg Barnes at the ASCA. They started doing this a long time ago in Yosemite and have since branched all over the place. They handle most of the donations going to Thailand as well. I generally buy the chain and links myself, and get the stainless bolts and the hangers from the ASCA.

What are some of the most memorable/worst anchors you’ve replaced?

I’ve had a number of desert anchors pull out with my hands. The banged in angles are kinda funny. Sometimes they look bad and are hard as hell to get out, then other times the pin is deep in what appears to be a perfect hole and they pop out with one yank. They always make a ringing sound if you tap them. Old desert hands often carry hammers so they can tap the pins, if they hear a ring they assume its solid. But the ring happens on the worst of pins too. I think this is because the iron rusts pretty fast on the pin. The rust and sand make a weak bond to the rock… its enough to give it that ring, but not enough to hold us.

It’s a funny thing, sometimes the bolts and pins are solid, but other times they are really bad… usually they are pretty bad. You can’t tell until you begin to yank them. Since I am generally using longer lasting and beefier stuff than was originally there, I just replace almost everything I come across (when I’m carrying the gear).

Were there any that came out so easily it made you sick that people were using them?

It’s actually pretty amazing that many of the anchors in Arches were holding. The top of Zenyatta Entrada was a joke… they just came right out. Most people think the Fishers are the worst rock, but that bad stuff is just on the surface, under it there is often good stone. But the Entrada is usually really soft. In Wingate, I once had a 5 piece Rawl bolt pull out with one yank. That was on The Cauldrons in Hell Roaring Canyon. It was a 3/8″ too. Everything in the desert really needs to be half inch or bigger.

In Thailand, I’ve broken a number of bolts. On one route I clipped a draw to the anchor and then leaned off it to talk to the belayer… it snapped. Your approach to sport climbing changes after you break a bolt, you never really completely trust them again.

You’ve replaced anchors on 69 desert towers, that’s a ton of crap to haul up with you. Did you hire a small army to help you get all that stuff to the base of those routes?

Well, if I was climbing with a partner I often gave them more of the gear or both ropes. However, for the most part, I try to be the one to carry the bolts and chains and drill. I realize this is my thing and I really don’t’ want to force it down anyone else’s throat. That said, most friends like that I’m doing it and ask what they can do to help… sometimes they change their minds when they feel the weight though.

Speaking of towers, I heard you recently climbed your 100th desert tower, that’s a pretty big milestone that most people never even dream of reaching. When did you start climbing towers?

I first went to Indian Creek in 1987, but I didn’t get into the tower thing for at least another 10 years. Some time in the late 90’s I did Moses as my first.

Most folks are happy to repeat the handful of well traveled routes out there, why keep going all the way to 100?

My approach to climbing has been composed of a series of objectives. Certain crack routes in the 80’s, then a series of grades in sport climbing through the 90’s, various ice climbs that I saw as showing improvement, and in the desert I just focused on 100 towers. It was just a way for me to have an objective and feel like I was progressing in climbing. If you climb 100 towers, you probably know how to deal with soft rock pretty well, and that was the progression.

There are probably twenty or so people who have done 100 towers now, and they all have their own idea of what actually is a tower. Crusher Bartlett and I consider it a 5th class or aid class to an obvious summit on the Colorado plateau. My idea of an “obvious summit” is a bit like defining porn… you can’t always describe it perfectly, but you know it when you see it. For me, buttes, like The Rectory, count as towers. Brad Brandewie however keeps his list super strict… he won’t count it unless it’s a tiny summit. No buttes.

What were some of your favorites?

I’d have to say Moses was cool, as was Zeus… Zeus has great climbing that keeps you focused all the way to a tiny summit. I did a bunch of them solo and that always makes them memorable. You get lots of time to think when you solo climb. I really enjoyed soloing the Kingfisher and the Organ, but the best were probably Echo Pinnacle and Aeolean Tower in the Tusher Canyon area. They stand out for the silence of the desert and the feeling of being alone, not the actual movement over rock.

What were the worst/least favorites? Scariest?

Aimee Barnes and I attempted to do The Witch a few years ago. I fell and yanked four pieces out of what appeared to be a very solid crack. It was a big fall and I broke my ankle, tore up some cartilage too. We approached from lower Hell Roaring Canyon, so I then had to hike out on the ankle. That wasn’t much fun. I went back and did the route earlier this year with Josh Gross and it is a great tower… just a scary way to get started with it.

I dropped my drill off Disappearing Angel… shattered it. I guess the thing just came unclipped. That was a sucky day.

But the worst tower… I”d have to say this thing Josh and I did in Day Canyon. I think we called it Oobleck. It was a nice summit, but the rock was terrible.

I heard 12 of them were first ascents, any hidden classics that people should go repeat?

Well, no. There are still classics to be had out there, but you gotta get further off the beaten path than I regularly go. I will say this; I was amazed that some of those towers, even if they didn’t have classic climbing on them, had not been ascended. I mean, this most recent one, The Pillbox, is about the most obvious tower in the desert.

The great thing about the new towers is you always get a unique view into one of the most beautiful places in the world. Every one of them provides just a little different angle on things.

You’ve traveled and climbed all over the world, why call Moab home?

I live there for the adventure. Right out my door I can get to remote area’s that few people ever get to see. I got into climbing because it always gave that sense that you were exploring… sometimes the world, sometimes yourself. You can find that real quick in the Utah desert.

Anything else?

I think all climbers need to be aware that we have a coming national disaster with anchors and bolts. For a couple generations we have been using non-stainless steel for our anchors… that’s not good. Everyone doing any new route or rebolting should be putting out the extra cash, and it does cost a lot, for stainless. Twenty years may seem a long time from now, but it comes faster than you expect… it rolls by and one day you are thinking, “Man, I put those bolts in a long time ago… I bet the inside on those threads is pretty rusty.” I can guarantee you it is… and its not safe. We need to start fixing it now. Its not only a problem for our health, but also access: the easiest way for a land manager to deal with dangerous bolts is to just close an area.

Also, if you put routes up in the desert, please use chain and quicklinks rather than webbing. The webbing fades and weakens in the sun real fast and non climbers have begun to complain about it being unsightly. Painted chain hides real well. It costs more, but in the long run you will be more proud of the route you established.

ClimbingNarc.com is arguably the most popular climbing blog out there, with a loyal following that goes into depression when the site goes down for the weekend. I recently caught up with Brian Runnells, the Climbing Narc himself, to talk about the site and being a climber in the Midwest.

When did ClimbingNarc.com get started?

The site started 3 years ago during one of my frequent breaks from climbing due to injury.  One day I came up with a name, opened a blogspot account and started posting.

How has it evolved over the course of those 3 years?

I probably do fewer posts about myself than I used to, otherwise my main focus of drawing people’s attention to whatever is happening in the world of climbing has largely stayed the same.

Do you find it hard to balance keeping fresh content on the site with other commitments?

Yeah, this is probably the most difficult aspect of running the site.  I would like to be able to devote more time to developing ideas and stories but for obvious reasons the site has to take a backseat to things like work and family time.

You cover a lot of breaking news, how do you stay on top of the latest and greatest?

I’ve been reading as many different sources of climbing information as I could for a number of years now, and the increased popularity of blogs and RSS readers was like giving me steroids.  I’m constantly checking for updates that might be of interest to my readers.

Switching gears a bit, what’s your favorite climbing discipline?

Despite the fact that I injure myself with alarming frequency while doing it, bouldering will always be my favorite thing to do.  In the past few years I’ve tried to branch out into trad climbing but there’s no substitute for pulling hard on the smaller rocks.

How would you describe life as a climber in the Midwest?

Frustrating.  While there are some decent spots to climb locally (2 hours away), the better areas (RRG, HP40, etc) are at least 8-12 hours away.

What are some of the good local spots and what are they like?

Local is a relative term when the nearest crag is 2 hours away, but the best local area is without a doubt Devil’s Lake.  ‘The Lake’ is an old school area sort of like the Gunks or Seneca Rocks.  There are no bolts and everything is done using traditional gear.  To me toproping is kind of boring, but for classic trad climbing on vertical, almost frictionless, quartzite the Lake is great.  There are some pretty fun boulder problems scattered around the park as well, although the vertical style of the problems is not really my favorite.

How’s the climbing scene/community there?

I’ve been climbing at the same gym for over 10 years now so there is a really fun scene there.  Outdoors the scene is quite a bit more fragmented.  Most of the people at my gym prefer making the drive down south for their weekend trips so there isn’t a real strong scene at a local place like Devil’s Lake.  On any given weekend I would be much more likely to see people from my area down at the Red than at the Lake.

How did you get started climbing in such a vertically challenged part of the country?

My interest in climbing began after I read Into Thin Air for a High School English class.  Since the tallest mountains around here are trash heaps I figured I’d give rock climbing a try.  I was really terrible at first but for some reason I stuck with it.

From what I gather your wife climbs as well? Did you meet through climbing?

No, we actually dated for a number of years before I was able to convince her to try climbing.  Despite suffering a couple major injuries already she stuck with it.  Being able to travel and climb with her has been great.

Any big trips or goals for the coming year?

Nothing too major.  Since I never know when my next injury is going to happen I’ve sort of stopped making long range plans when it comes to climbing.  It’s a bit cliché, but I really just try to live in the moment when it comes to climbing.  After years of obsessing over future plans and dreams this new approach has served me well the past couple of years.  It’s helped make them the most enjoyable of my climbing career despite not climbing as much as I would have liked.

Great, thanks Brian!

Be sure to put ClimbingNarc.com in your feed reader!

Dave Pegg enjoying high quality stone at Rodellar, Spain.

Wolverine Publishing has become known for high quality guidebooks to climbing areas across the country, including our very own Rifle Mountain Park & Western Colorado Rock Climbs. We caught up with Dave Pegg, the man behind the madness, to find out how the company has grown, what the future holds for guidebooks, and what makes him tick as a climber. Enjoy.

To start out, where are you from originally?

The North of England. I grew up in Leeds then lived in Sheffield before I moved to the States. Leeds and Sheffield are big industrial cities and close to lots of great climbing.

How long have you been living in Western Colorado and what brought you here?

I’ve lived on the Western Slope for 11 years. I came to the States in the winter of 96/97 to visit my girlfriend. She was a physical therapist in Sheffield and had gotten a visa that allowed her to work in Albuquerque, New Mexico, for a year. I was only going to stay for a few weeks but after leaving rain-soaked Sheffield for sunny New Mexico I didn’t want to go back. I spent a lot of time in Hueco Tanks and had some fun adventures border-hopping to Juarez to renew my visa and extend my stay. Just as I was about to go back to Sheffield, Climbing Magazine offered me a job in Carbondale. Michael Kennedy [then owner of Climbing] was awesome: he sponsored me for a working visa and green card. If it wasn’t for Michael, I wouldn’t be here. It still freaks me out to think I came here for a short vacation. Today I’m a U.S. citizen. This is my home.

Where do you spend most of your time climbing locally?

Rifle. Is there anywhere else to climb on the Western Slope?

Seriously, every year I make resolution to climb less in Rifle and more in other places, and every year I break it. It doesn’t help that the canyon is only 20 minutes from my home in Silt. I’ve done my share of bouldering and trad climbing but as I’ve gotten older I’ve gravitated toward sport climbing. (I wrecked my knee and ankles bouldering and I’ve become too much of a coward to enjoy anything more than very mellow trad climbing.) I like picking a project that’s at the limit of my abilities, pushing myself physically, and figuring out “weak-person’s” sequences. Rifle is perfect for that. It’s also home to a fun and supportive community of climbers. So many of my friends climb there that going to Rifle is a major part of my social life.

Main Elk and The Fortress of Solitude are two more of my favorite local crags. I used to live at the end of Main Elk Creek and could walk to both crags from home. I think Main Elk is the most beautiful valley in the area. Plus I love putting up new routes, and there are lots of them to do out there. I’m looking forward to climbing at The Creek and The Fortress this winter.

What was the first guidebook you wrote?

I wrote a guide to Kilnsey, my favorite crag in England. It appeared as a chapter in a guidebook called “Yorkshire Limestone.” Unfortunately, the book title didn’t stand out well against the cover photograph. People probably thought the book was about a man called “Ykshi mesto” who wore Lycra tights.

How did Wolverine Publishing start?

I left my job at Climbing in 2001. Fiona and I bought a piece of land in Main Elk Creek and built a house — we pounded the nails, did everything ourselves. When we were working on the house we saw a wolverine. Pound for pound, wolverines are the fiercest predators on the planet — a 30-pound wolverine can take down a moose and will fight a black bear. They are also extremely rare, so seeing one seemed like an omen. Our first book was the “Western Sloper” climbing guide to Rifle and the Western Slope. It was pretty primitive but it got us started.

You now feature guidebooks on everything from paddling to horseback riding, how has it evolved to the point its at today?

Everything we’ve done so far has come from the contacts we have in the climbing community or the reputation of our climbing guidebooks. Evan Stafford, one of the authors of our kayaking guidebook “Whitewater of The Southern Rockies,” is a climber. He saw our “Hueco Tanks” guidebook and contacted us because he thought there was an opportunity to create a color book of similar quality for kayakers. Other times we’ll have an idea for a book and use our contacts in the climbing world to find an author. That’s how we teamed up with Neil Beidleman for the “The Aspen Ski and Snowboard Guide.”

Today, if there’s a sport or activity that people do outside and are passionate about, we’ll consider publishing a guidebook for it. The passion is important. If you publish a $30 guidebook packed with color photographs of people jogging, no one will buy it.

We’re also interested in publishing other types of outdoor books. It was fun to work Chris Davenport and Art Burroughs on their book “Ski The 14ers” — we’d love to do more hard cover coffee-table books. We’re also looking at the possibility of publishing some mountain literature.

You have really pushed the format of high quality color guidebooks, what caused you to head in that direction?

I think if you are going to do something you might as well do it well. We’ve tried to focus on the biggest and best climbing areas: the Red River Gorge, Bishop, Hueco Tanks, Smith Rock, and so on. The thinking is if you produce guidebooks to popular areas you can sell enough copies to print them in color and spend the time to make sure they are well researched, well written, and well designed. I also think by working on iconic areas you can produce a book that people will buy as a source of inspiration and a celebration of the great climbing in those areas, not just because they want route beta. People have told me they’ve bought two copies of some of our guidebooks — one for the crag and one to put on their coffee table at home. That’s the best compliment I can imagine because it sums up what we are trying to do.

Some people think sites like Mountain Project will replace guidebooks. I don’t agree, but what do you see as the future of climbing guidebooks given all the free information available online?

Websites like Mountain Project are great if you want to research a specific route or small cliff, but not very convenient if you want information about bigger areas. Our new Boulder Canyon guidebook covers more than 1500 routes; it would cost you more in ink or toner to print that information from the internet than it would to buy the book. Plus you’d be lugging a five-pound binder with you to the crag.

I’m sure we’ll soon start seeing guidebook apps for smartphones and other hand-held devices. We’re currently working on a guidebook app, but other than that it will be to a major U.S. climbing area and present information in a different, more interactive way than a traditional guidebook I’m not at liberty to tell you much more right now.

Even if apps take off I still think there will be a market for print guidebooks. Digital media is very good at organizing and presenting data, but if you are passionate about a sport — like climbers and kayakers and backcountry skiers are passionate — you want more than just data, especially when it comes to the iconic areas. Bigger, better books that really capture the flavor of the best areas. That’s the future of print guidebooks.

Any cool new books in the works that you can tell us about?

We’re almost finished with a new comprehensive color climbing guidebook to the New River Gorge. It also includes Summersville Lake and the Gauley and Meadow rivers. The book is packed with great photographs and text you’ll want to read. The author Mike Williams has done a brilliant job capturing the rich history and colorful personalities of the climbing scene at The New. This book is going to be our “flagship” guidebook. Hopefully it take it to the next level! Here’s a sample from the history section of the book.

Anything else?

If you have Adobe In Design skills and would like to pick up freelance work you can do at home or on the road, contact me through our website at www.wolverinepublishing.com.

Aside from his full time job as senior editor at Rock & Ice, Andrew Bisharat just authored a new book about sport climbing. He’s also a very talented climber, though he’d never admit it. So I recently took the time to found out more about the book, and what else makes Andrew tick. Grab a cup of coffee and enjoy.

Tell us a little about the book you just authored, where did the inspiration for that come from?

The book is called Sport Climbing: From Top Rope to Redpoint, Techniques For Climbing Success, or otherwise known by the handy and easy-to-remember acronym: SCFTRTRTFCS. It is being published by the Mountaineers, the group that prints Freedom of the Hills. SCFTRTRTFCS is joining the Mountaineers Outdoor Expert Series–those how-to books with the distinctive red cover.

The inspiration for the book was an honest desire to try to help people improve as free climbers and enjoy the sport more. Also, I think that sport climbing has become so specialized compared to other climbing disciplines, but from what I have seen, nothing has been written that really addresses those differences. For example, one book on sport climbing has a chapter on free soloing!

I spent the first half of my climbing career trad climbing in places like the Gunks, Yosemite, New Hampshire, etc. Sport climbing was only something I did if it was raining or I had a hangover. I approached sport climbs like they were less significant trad climbs–a mistake that, in retrospect, stifled my abilities. Sport climbing demands that a climber take a different approach–know different belay and ropework techniques, use different gear, and most of all, possess a different mentality. I wanted to capture these elements and present them to the climbing community in, hopefully, an easy-to-read yet still in-depth format.

I think sport climbing still suffers from a misconception that it’s fluffy, easy to do, and not worthy. I also realize that some people may think an entire how-to book on sport climbing is overkill, like a DVD series on changing a lightbulb. This has always struck me as odd because, according to the numbers, more people sport climb than anything else, so why the lack of love? Also, I see sport climbing as having the brightest future of any discipline. We’re only scratching the surface of what’s possible. I’m hoping that a more serious and in-depth treatment will bring some legitimacy and respect to this discipline–it certainly deserves it. It’s one of the reasons I included a rich history chapter at the beginning of the book.

Was this your first published book? What were the best and worst parts about writing it?

This was my first published book. The best part of writing it was that it was such a drastic and welcome departure from the usual stuff I write for Rock and Ice. I needed to totally shift mental gears. I remember after I sent the first 20 percent of the book in to my editor Kate for review, she basically said, “Dude,  you need to turn down the jargon and the energy. No one knows what ‘beta,’ ‘send’ or ‘kneebar’ means.”

I live, eat, breathe and shit climbing all day, every day. All of my friends are climbers. Up until this book, I wouldn’t have thought twice about saying, “I one-hung the proj from the bat-hang rest to the chains with the new beta.” Escaping that mindset opened my eyes, ears and heart quite a bit. I find myself editing articles for Rock and Ice differently now as well–just being more thoughtful and aware about the ways I can help make this sport seem more inclusive.

The worst part of the book was that I basically had four months to write 65,000 words and shoot/solicit over 150 images … in addition to the work of my regular job. I’d wake up every day at 6 am, write until I had to go to work, then write/edit at work all day, and then, go home and write more. My blood pressure was really high during this time period. I had to miss my favorite holiday, Halloween, last year because I was writing about belay techniques. I was going to dress up as a Swiss beer fraulein with fake breasts and make people do shots out of my boobies.

What’s the main thing you hope people get from reading the book?

How sport climbing can be the best way to improve your free-climbing abilities. And that, above all, it’s just rock climbing. It’s meant to be fun.

How much further do you think sport climbing grades/standards can be pushed?

Put it this way: This weekend, I saw a 5-year-old in the gym in Boulder running laps on 5.10s. He was back-stepping, matching feet, and otherwise exhibiting flawless technique. Aside from a few people like Chris Lindner, we’re still awaiting for the emergence of an entire generation of people who have been rock climbing since birth. Without exaggeration, in fewer than 20 years, I believe that 5.15 is going to be a warm-up, and that 5.14 will be the new 5.12–the grade that “average” people can work toward and attain.

Guys like Dave Graham and Daniel Woods are sending their hardest routes in 10 or 15 tries. In other words, they’re hardly pushing themselves. I takes me that long to redpoint the crag warm-up, and I’ve taken over two years and countless tries to do a single route. The climbing community and sponsors are still impressed with 5.14d and 5.15a redpoints, and so many top climbers are content with only climbing at that level. When someone comes along with Chris Sharma’s belief in himself, Dave Graham’s genetics and technique, and Wolfgang Gullich’s dedication to training, then things will be pushed closer to the limit of what’s possible. It sounds like Adam Ondra may be the guy who possesses this rare cocktail.

What do you think is an attainable grade for the average climber with a full time job and average genetics?

I started climbing at the Gunks. My first route was Horseman, a 5.5. It was absolutely terrifying and gripping, but also instantly consuming. My initial introduction to this sport was that 5.5 is hard. I remember working up to “5.5+”–that special brand of grade only found at the Gunks–and then, when I felt comfortable, I got on “5.6-” … Even to this day, the words “5.9+” make me feel unhinged. I know that for most people, 5.12, 5.11 and even 5.10 may be a lifetime goal. I  totally relate to that feeling because that is my background too.

However, I honestly believe that it is realistic for an average person to do 5.13+ or 5.14. I think your question underscores an important misconception about how hard routes are achieved: that climbing hard is more about good genes and having lots of free time. To me, these are easy excuses we make for ourselves and they miss the point. Think about it: genes can’t be changed, so focusing on them as a reason you won’t or can’t succeed is a way of giving up before you even start.

I have terrible genes, and I sometimes work 50+ hours a week. Despite these circumstances, I’ve managed to climb better and harder each year. I’ve literally had to work through every single grade I’ve ever got on, from 5.5+ to 5.13+.

In my experience, having the right mentality, staying positive, addressing weaknesses in your climbing, addressing imbalances in your health and your life, surrounding yourself with a community that cherishes difficult climbing and improvement, and effectively and efficiently using your time on the rock can take you further than you can imagine. We all have limitations–like so called “bad” genes or a time-consuming job–imposed on us. The key is to focus on seeing all the ways you can expand your powers, not focus on how they are being restricted.

You spend a lot of your time climbing at Rifle, what’s the big draw for you?

The climbing is addictive, but honestly, I couldn’t ask for a better community of quirky, funny and intelligent people to surround myself with every weekend. No matter what happens, or how well I am climbing on any given day, I always have fun out there. The Rifle locals are my friends, mentors and drinking partners and I love ‘em.

What’s your favorite route there?

Right now it’s Living in Fear, probably because it’s the project I’m currently falling on. The climb is chipped, but it’s beautifully chipped. The moves are really fun, and extremely non-injurious–there are no small holds or tweaky moves. If you can climb V4 you can do this route. It just gets you in shape and it makes everything else feel easier. After I send Living, I plan to climb on it every day until I can warm up on it like everyone else out there.

Are there any other local crags you enjoy?

Yes! As you know, we live in an area with so much geological diversity. I love Independence Pass granite and the tweaky cobbled pebble matrix of the Redstone crags. For some reason, those Redstone crags don’t see a lot of traffic, which doesn’t make sense to me. It has the most unique climbs in the Valley.

I just got to check out the Gash and the Narrows this summer. I think Jeff Jackson’s route Slice of Death is one of the best 5.12′s in the valley, and Matt Samet’s Red Faction is an absolutely brilliant hidden gem.

It seems like you pursue sport climbing more than any other discipline.

Sport climbing started out for me as a way to get stronger for trad climbing, as a way to learn to hold on till the end of the pitch and place gear more easily. I always told myself that once I climbed 5.13, I’d start plugging pro again, but aside from the occasional outing, it hasn’t happened yet. I’m not sure why sport climbing has so consumed me. Maybe it’s because I feel like I’m finally starting to “get it.” Maybe it’s because I’ve sprained my ankles so many times and it now hurts to torque them into cracks.

Do you ever dabble in other styles?

The thing that I love about climbing most of all is how varied it is. I’ve spent a lot of time trad climbing, aid climbing, big wall climbing, bouldering, deep water soloing, ice climbing, alpine climbing and mixed climbing. I find each one fulfilling, and I feel pretty fortunate to feel comfortable enough to be able to dabble in all those mediums.

Do you have a favorite trad route?

To me, trad climbing is less about the movement and the free climbing and more about the position and the experience. My favorite trad routes are the ones with memorable moments, like when my friend James and I climbed Journey Home in the Black Canyon. We had already done another route on another wall that morning, and we didn’t start JH until 6 in the afternoon. This is how routes go with James. He sees no reason why we shouldn’t be able to do, say, the Finger of Fate before the sun goes down, or why you’d want to take a bottle of water with you on a 1,000 foot climb in the desert. Anyway, on JH, we actually got benighted this time around, and tried sleeping back to back on a little ledge before we realized how cold, dehydrated and hungry we were. So we kept moving and eventually topped out at 1 am or something. It was so much fun. That said, there are a few routes that I’ve repeated a bunch of times and will always make a point of going and doing when I’m in the area: Moratorium into the East Butt of El Cap, Directissima at the Gunks, and the Whitney Gilman ridge on Cannon, but only in winter conditions because 5.7 in Koflachs is just that much fun.

What about ice climbing?

To be honest, I’ve somewhat lost interest in ice climbing since moving to Colorado. I started climbing ice in New Hampshire, and to me, this stuff out West just doesn’t compare. Colorado has some fantastic ice lines, but they’re all very similar in terms of the composition of the ice. It’s somehow drier, more uniform, and less variable. In the Northeast, you get such a variety of ice mediums that you never know what you’re going to get, even during a single pitch. I find that type of ice climbing much more interesting, adventurous and thought-provoking. Also, in Colorado, you can rock climb in the sun throughout the winter, which I’d always prefer. If you live in the Northeast in the winter, you don’t have a choice.

You’re the senior editor at Rock & Ice, how‘d you land that gig?

I spent three months doing an internship here, during which time I learned a lot from the dark genius Matt Samet (who now works at Climbing). Matt taught me everything I know and I have a lot of respect and admiration for everything he has accomplished as both a writer and especially as a climber. After the internship ended, I helped my friend make wine on a vineyard through the fall harvest season. Apparently, they missed me at the magazine because one day I got a call that a position opened up. I applied and they accepted me back. The people I work with are not just mentors and friends, but they’re now family. Jeff Jackson, Alison Osius, Duane Raleigh and everyone else. We help each other move, we dig each other’s cars out of snow banks, we take care of each other’s kids, etc. Rock and Ice is a pretty special place. I feel extremely lucky to be here and I try to never complain about how much work it can be.

It seems like you’ve built up a persona in the magazine that’s somewhat different (more controversial?) than who you are in person, care to elaborate on that?

Of course, I’m not actually like the sociopath that I sometimes portray myself to be in articles. All good writing must somehow illuminate an underlying truth. I sometimes try to arrive at that truth by being over the top or embellishing certain facts, but I do so very consciously. I think very carefully about each word I use and how it will be interpreted. Sometimes, I get that interpretation wrong, and I’ve gotten into trouble. Most of the time, however, people seem to be able to look past the zany persona and strong language–which I incorporate mostly to keep the pace fast and the writing entertaining–and see the point I’m trying to make. You can’t make a point if people stop reading halfway through the piece because they’re bored.

I hope my writing is a window into how my mind works. I think it is. I sometimes read my old articles, and it’s like listening to myself speak in my head, if that makes sense. I try not to put too much dressing on any of my thoughts, even the ugly ones, in order to keep things raw and honest. To me, the best writing takes confidence, and by that I mean having the confidence to hear the words that naturally appear in your head and put them down on the paper without passing through any filters that try to make your words sound like something else (Hemingway et al.).

The upshot to this, however, is that I’ve been told I’m much more boring and disappointing in person.

Anything else?

Double check your knot.

We hope to have a copy of Andrew’s new book soon, and we’re looking forward to learning a few things. Look for a review in the next couple weeks, although I guess that means I’m gonna have to go sport climbing to see if any of that stuff works…

Jeff Jackson on the first ascent of the Pink Wall, The Gash, near Redstone, CO. Photo by Chris Hunter.

How long have you been in the Roaring Fork Valley? What brought you here?

This is our fifth summer in the Valley. Hannah and I got married at the end of May in 2005, packed up the yurt and moved to Carbondale the next week. We were ready to start a family, which meant that I needed a “real” job. I’d been teaching climbing and yoga, and freelancing for about twenty years, so when Rock and Ice offered me the position of Editor, I jumped on it like a Mexican dog on a chicken taco. The timing was perfect. Hannah sent her resume to the Roaring Fork Waldorf School and was immediately hired as the special needs teacher. It all came together like it was meant to happen. Plus, I’d been friends with Duane Raleigh, the publisher, since 1980, and I’d been visiting Carbondale for years and years. I knew we’d like living in the valley. Sure enough, we love it here.

Do you miss anything about Texas?

Well, I am a Texan to the bone. I know that’s a liability in Colorocky, where Texans are viewed as the bastard children at the family picnic, but I grew up in the Lone Star State. I definitely miss the laid-back vibe of Austin. There’s a great, motivated climbing community, a thriving music scene, deep water soloing and world-class granite and limestone bouldering. Redstone is really unique, but I wish there were more blocs in the valley! Also, I can honestly say that in Austin I never heard the silly (to me) debates about ethics, style and quality that seem to preoccupy some Western Slopers.

What are your favorite local cliffs? Why?

I’m stoked on the Gash, a new area with overhanging granite cliffs. We have 12 routes up now. They’re pumpy, 30-meters long and tend to be mid to upper 5.12. The holds are generally big and comfortable. Perfect for mileage. Plus, the Gash is just seven miles from our house (12 miles from Carbondale), with a five-minute approach, so I can get up there after work. It’s shady and cool, and really unique, with an adventurous feel.

The Frying Pan area—the Skillet and Ruedi Wall—will always be a fave for me. I love the sandstone mixed finger cracks at the high crag. Routes like Whiskey River (5.11c), Steel Driver (5.11b) and Book of Rules (5.11d) take good pro and offer secluded, scenic climbing with intricate but bomber protection. I actually love the approach, too. Some folks will be horrified by the 45-minute, steeply uphill slog, but it keeps away the riff raff. Just kidding. I’ve actually never seen anyone else up there, despite the fact that the upper crag has about 50 routes of Eldo-quality mixed and sport climbing from 5.10 to 5.13b up to 200 feet tall. It was amazing and humbling to be able to develop a hidden gem like that.

You are more motivated about new routes than anyone I know. You always seem willing to go just a little bit further and try just a little bit harder to get it done. What drives you to put up new climbs? The Fame? The Glory?

Fame and glory are definitely a huge part of new routing for me. And women. And money.

Those things aside, I love the thrill of finding a new crag, figuring out how to get to the base, roughing in a trail and then visualizing climbs. The process of new routing is far more intimate than just climbing—or even projecting a hard sport route. Cleaning loose rock, brushing lichen and dirt off the holds, inventing a sequence up chalkless rock. It’s super fun and creative for me. I’ve been climbing since 1977. Back then there were no guidebooks and very few established routes. So early on I started to develop climbs. I got a taste of that unique, creative, exploratory process and just loved it.

Another question along the same lines, why spend all your time wrestling with choss when you could go climb some of the best sport routes in the country at Rifle, a mere hour away?

I’m old and weak, and Rifle kicks my ass.

I climbed a bunch at Rifle in the 90s and really loved it. And I also climbed almost exclusively in steep limestone caves in Texas for years and years. Plus, I did lots of multi-pitch limestone routes in Mexico, and developed bunches of limestone boulder problems.

Now I’m enjoying climbing granite and sandstone.

I suppose I could get in shape for steep limestone again, but the angles at Rifle require a lot of commitment. You have to climb there a ton to get fit for the style. I have a two-year-old son and my window for climbing is a half day on weekends, so options closer to home work better for me.

Finally, I’m into new routes. If you establish routes at Rifle, you know that it involves plenty of “choss-wrestling.” I think it’s a great place to climb, but it’s choss. The Frying Pan sandstone is actually far better quality stone.

As the editor at Rock & Ice, you’ve got your finger on the pulse of climbing, what do you see as the biggest issue facing climbers in the future?

As always, access issues are cropping up like brush fires around the country. A burgeoning issue involves wilderness advocates who want to limit access by enlarging wilderness parcels in the interest of “protecting” the land. In the past, climbers and wilderness advocates have worked together, but increasingly these guys are viewing climbers as adversaries. Keep in mind that the “wilderness” designation would outlaw motorized drilling, and once reclassified, it would make it impossible to maintain existing anchors in places like Independence Pass, for example. Spooky.

Many people would consider working at one of the mags a dream job, what’s your favorite thing about being there?

I love the fact that we’re all climbers, and that climbing is a part of the job. Gear testing is a very cool way to spend your day. Plus, my co-workers understand when I simply have to go send a project.

What’s the worst thing about working for a mag?

Sitting on your ass all day staring at a computer screen is about as enervating as watching paint dry.

What are you most psyched about right now?

Being a papa. Everybody says that, but once you have a little rug rat tugging at your pants legs you understand that nothing is better than having a child. Not even climbing.

I know developing can sometimes being exciting, rapping in on a new line. Had any scary close calls?

I have had many close calls. Developing the Gash was particularly nightmarish. A few weeks ago I stranded myself on a double rope rappel, hanging 30 feet away from the wall, 150 feet above the canyon floor. I was alone and had one shoulder sling, one quickdraw and a tibloc. Very interesting problem, and totally sketch.

In developing new routes you’re constantly dealing with virgin terrain: loose rock, exposed positions, rope abrasion, critters and weather. Ironically, my closest call came on El Cap. I was doing the Nose for the third time and a party of Koreans knocked a massive block, the size of a cooler, off of Texas Flake. It passed so close that it ripped a hole in my down jacket.

But we’re always dodging bullets. Sometimes we don’t even realize how close we come to biting the big one. That’s just life. In climbing, you gotta be heads up, and doing new routes is particularly hazardous.

You teach a Yoga class in town. How did you get involved with Yoga? Do you feel it helps your climbing?

In 1989 an Iyengar Yoga instructor in Austin asked if he could trade climbing lessons for yoga lessons. I agreed, and we became close friends. We went on to do Half Dome together, and tons of climbs all over the country. I moved into a garage apartment behind his studio in 1998 and really went deeply into practice—getting up at 4 am for breath work and meditation, eating a vegetarian diet, and practicing asanas (poses) for 5 hours a day.

Then I built a yurt on some land I bought out side of Austin and did a 5 year retreat. No running water, bathing in the creek, composting my poop—full-on stinky yoga hippie heaven.

Of course, I was also totally into climbing—road tripping etc.

Yoga practice translates directly into better climbing. No doubt. Many of the poses correspond directly with climbing moves. Yoga will improve your focus, help you deal with anxiety and fear, and accelerate recovery. It’s awesome. I teach at True Nature in Carbondale …

You’re a relatively new father, how has parenthood changed your outlook on climbing?

Climbing is so directly tied to who I am as a human being that it remains a constant. I try to climb as much as possible and Hannah supports that desire.

On the other hand, before we had Kai I would do some hairball shit, like run out first ascents and solos and I’d sometimes privately think, “Today is a good day to die.” Weird, I know, but I really did have that thought sometimes. Now I really, really don’t want to die climbing. I want to get Kai through college. Then I’ll start doing stupid shit again.

I know you started getting into mixed climbing in the winter, what’s your experience with that been like?

Mixed climbing is absolutely terrifying. I have a ton of respect for local guys like Duane Raleigh and Ryan Jennings who are solid and skillful on the ice. I’m constantly scared and just waiting for my tools to shear and scoop out my eyeballs. That’s why I spend most of my time on a top rope.

Anything else?

I feel so lucky to be a part of this community. We live in a paradise. Thanks to Spirit for these gifts, this life. I hope to see you all on the rock soon. Peace up!

Another new route goes down.

Who were/are your biggest influences in climbing?

Mark Wilford, Duncan Ferguson, Jeff Lowe, Reinhold Messner, Layton Kor, and many others.  It’s highly likely a few of these guys climbed most of the routes in Redstone long before websites were around. That’s the best thing about “leave no trace.”

It’s 2009, does style matter anymore?

It certainly doesn’t feel like it.  I worry that the roots of our sport are being forgotten.  I grew up following, to some extent, the rules laid out by Jim Erickson in his early Boulder rock guide. If you haven’t read them you should.  That guy had style and stuck to it.  He held himself to higher standards than I was ever able to hold myself to but his beliefs gave me a foundation with which to form my own beliefs and morals regarding how I wanted to approach future ascents.

Now a days I believe bolting is a necessary evil but that wasn’t always the case. With much hesitation I will install bolts now but only when some criteria have been met.  I believe a climb is worth climbing only if it’s a visually natural line and I find it aesthetic.  I always start ground up and rarely rap in for a preview.  We usually give it numerous goes on natural pro if it seems possible and then only when confronted with multiple ground falls or high potential for broken bones will we decide on bolting. Even then I re-affirm it is a natural aesthetic line that others will enjoy and that natural pro is just not an option.  We have been able to find and complete many routes this way without the need to leave a trace of our passing.  I believe there is a lifetime more of them out there.  With luck and patience we find the conditions right, we come prepared, and if our balls are big enough we get it done.  If not, and it’s seemingly possible, we go home and come back another day.  It’s the fair way to do it.  Then everyone in the future has a chance to have the same experience.

That’s style I hope others debate even more than I do every time they approach a first ascent. Once a cliff is riddled with bolts on every inch of stone, the best lines and in some way the beauty of the cliff to a climber’s eye disappears forever. It’s nice to have routes to look forward to being skilled enough to complete in good style someday in the future.

I must say I’ve had a hard time this year seeing the Coal Creek lines get bolted that I’ve studied and waited for.  Waited to have the conditions, the skill, the timing and whatever else needed to complete them in good style.  Now, overnight they are rap attacked.  I understand that they may have never gone without bolts and they are safer now and a benefit to the masses but every time we bolt a line especially one with the possibility of having natural pro we take the dreams of future generations away.  Now don’t get me wrong. I think Coal Creek is as good a spot as any for the sort of climbs going in there and you’ll definitely see me out there climbing all the new lines.  I am appreciative… but I secretly dream that one day I’ll climb some of those lines natural and perhaps at that point I’ll politely ask the author to remove their bolts.  You have to admit there is something special about waiting for your skill to match the challenge and leaving the option for others to do the same.

With that all said I must confess that, like most, I am not as strong willed as Jim Erickson and I have given in to this new age at times in my own way.  We just finished a great 5 bolt line.  With this route I basically doubled the amount of bolts I’ve put in during my short existence.  It was fun taking whippers on bomber bolts and we felt like we were climbing the hardest routes of our lives physically, but I realize that perhaps the reason for my approach is that in some small way I will always worry that placing those bolts may not have been the right thing to do.

Best day of climbing, ever?

Is there such a thing? I often finish a day and feel it was the best of my life.  I sadly think I forget a lot of the good ones I’ve had.  Maybe that’s why it’s hard to pick one.  What if I’m forgetting one? Perhaps the most recent one would be last winter.  Or was that the winter before? Kevin and I had climbed the Talisman a few weekends before and started hatching this plan to climb three big routes in a day.  I guess we wanted to train for something or another and step it up a notch.  There are only so many routes down there so we decided on starting with the Talisman then Bridalveil and finishing with Ames Ice Hose. I always feel a day like this is a good test to see if I’m in shape enough for a fast (safe) day in Patagonia or any other place I’d like to visit.

What made the day was that we had no plan other than the line up and waking up in Carbondale at midnight or so, driving to the Talisman and skiing in.  We climbed the Talisman in three pitches, got down as the team behind us was starting and skied out. Then drove to Telluride, skied in, climbed Bridalveil in basically one pitch, hike off and skied out. Drove to Ames and had a meltdown.  Both exhausted, with darkness setting in and postholing in our future, we fought back and forth about going.  I finally forced us to have two Gu shots and hike at least to the Railroad grade to reassess. Once the Gu kicked in we were on our way.  Once at the climb I racked up and went to start up the first pitch.  I quickly realized I’d left my life support leashes in the car.  I could hang on forever with those but without them I was reduced to tears.  We renegotiated and since Kevin was feeling better he agreed to finish the climb if I could get us to the first belay. I fought harder than ever on that pitch. Then Coop, the bastard, decides to bust straight up on the steepest part of the last headwall instead of the typical relatively easy long leftward traverse.  I over-gripped the whole way. On the rappel I was worried I couldn’t hold the rope tight enough to brake.  We were so excited when we got back to the car we decide to drive home right then.  I don’t know exactly how long it took but I recall it being around 28hrs round trip from Bonedale.

What about StoneyFest, where did that come from?

Looking for love in all the wrong places.

I don’t know…Stoney days?  I sometimes wish the name were different but terms get started and then repeated so much that there can be no other name.  It fit with the Redstone name and someone or another just started repeating it.  Plus I live on “Indica” way.  Oh, did you mean the actual festival? The year I moved back to Carbondale I started scoping the cliffs.  Kevin soon came to visit and the rest is history.  We were tired of how crowded, popular and hacked up the Ouray Fest had made climbing down there that weekend.  We decided there was no better time to have solitude in our own little ice climbing heaven.  We decided to spend a few days every year testing how far our skills had progressed on perfectly virgin ice with the goal being that we climb something new (at least to us) every year.

Anything else?

I just finished looking at the topos of the new routes at Coal Creek and I’ve now climbed a couple.  They’re great and I really appreciate the effort those guys put into them but I wonder if all of those routes especially on what they call the Main Crag will form consistently and in the same place to allow the bolts to be used again.  I wonder how much the authors have watched each line over the years to determine this crucial fact.  Maybe they have.   I also get a bit heated when I show up and the cliffs are littered with ropes and draws and there are empty bolt holes everywhere.  I always find it’s lame to see routes that cross one another when you don’t know which bolt is on which route.  It re-affirms in my mind the merits of the ground up, natural line, wait till I’m ready and conditions are right, leave no trace approach.  If I had a say I ask to see fewer bolts (when natural pro is available) placed in the correct spot the first time and draws and ropes removed daily so as not to be eye soars all season.  It’s just courteous to the hundreds of none climbers that go up there every week if we don’t leave the place looking like a mining operation or attack on the cliffs.

I’m sure I might catch a ration of comments on this interview and so be it.  I’m alright with everyone else’s style.  I just want to make sure others are thinking about what their doing and let it to be known that there are still some of us out there trying as best we can to stick to the old ways even though it sometimes seems no one really cares anymore.

Ryan Jennings is a passionate climber who currently lives in Carbondale where he is within close striking distance for new routing missions to Redstone. Besides being a bad ass climber, he can help you with all your real estate needs!

What draws you to ice climbing?

Ryan Jennings on Banzai Pipeline.

It’s easier than rock climbing?  If you’ve done it for any time you know what I mean.  Really though I like the changing nature of it.  No climb is ever the same and you’re never guaranteed it will be in shape.  It requires a dedication to learning the habits of ice to succeed. It’s liquid to solid, never the same form one moment to the next.  You don’t get that with rock climbing.  For the most part a rock climb will always be there waiting for you in the same state.  An ice climb does not wait and instead I find myself waiting for it. It takes patience, luck, skill, timing, speed, and so much more.  But really like I said, it’s easier to hang off picks than it is fingers.

You’re always super psyched about the ice in Redstone, what’s the best thing about the climbing there?

The variety, uniqueness, beauty, the red cliffs and surrounding mountains.  It’s hard to name one thing.  I like the fact that no one else is around and I don’t worry there ever will be.  Even if there was there is so much ice in Redstone. To see it all you have to enjoy long posthole approaches up steep slopes to climbing on bad dirty rock.  Many a line has little or no pro and takes you to ice that’s on the verge of complete meltdown because it’s formed today and gone tomorrow.  To climb the more obscure routes you have to study them and patiently wait for conditions to be right.  Conditions are often only right for a few days a year. This fact alone keeps a large percentage of the climbs untouched when they do come in.  Now especially with the bolted lines at Coal Creek I suspect most folks will focus their attention there in the years to come. There are a lot of good lines there that have bolts and no approach and others to be done now that the style’s kosher.  Few will ever venture into the less accessible more natural climbs. There just don’t seem to be that many climbers out there doing ground up natural lines anymore, lines that require commitment to catch in condition, energy to get to and knowledge to escape from.  I’m not saying the talent isn’t here but either they’ve already done all the natural lines, they’re out there and I just don’t see or hear from them, or they just aren’t focusing their attention towards them.

What are your favorite local routes (or anywhere for that matter)?

Above and beyond all others is Deep Throat in Glenwood Canyon.  That is by far the sickest mixed route in Colorado or almost anywhere.  You won’t find any bolts on it.  It requires every skill you know and you’ll learn some new ones while you’re at it. Nightmare on Wolfstreet in Canada is top notch too but with bolts.  The Talisman and Bird Brain are both ones you’ll remember and pretty clean.  Locally, it’s all good.  The first pitch of Stoney Fest is classic hard ice that I don’t think anyone gets on, right off the road.  The Sopris backdrop on that one is spectacular.

Most memorable first ascents?

Scrapping up the first ascent of Dirt Pimp.

Watching Kevin climb the first pitch of the Longest Route was memorable.  I stood half way up a small ice flow filming the ascent and I remember worrying that I might pass out and fall from the adrenaline of watching.  I was scared as he worked his way up the crust covered vertical wall above his last piece, a pounded Spectre.  With every move the ice fell away from under each previous foot placement as he got farther from the few bad pieces below.  You could tell that it was just barely enough to hold body weight but he was committed and just kept going. I finally had to traverse a ledge above and lower a rope with a knot for him to clip as pro.  He then ran it out another 40ft to the top on more of the same. Fear Factor was much the same.  He basically soloed the top half of that one.  Other memorable ascents would be the last pitch of Stoney Fest (as we did it) and Dirt Pimp. Both were all natural on suspect dirty rotten rock. I love that.

Worst climbing accident?

Ruth Gorge, Alaska 2002.  We left our glacier camp to climb Shaken Not Stirred on the Moose’s Tooth and planned on returning later that day.  At sunrise we started up the route and it was slushy rotten conditions on the steep ice but we eventually made it to the col. We bailed on the final snow climb to the summit because we were weak, it was late, blah, blah.  We started rappelling around midnight and made it most of the way with no major issues. Hallucinating, 20 some hours in, I clipped a slung horn, at the bottom of a rap, 20 ft below a good crack I’d passed up.  We had two raps to go to cross the bergschrund.  I quickly noticed the horn looked more like a tire sized boulder frozen to a small ledge.  I clipped in and bounce tested it heavily.  I remember debating if it was just me or if it was moving.  Too tired to climb back up to the better crack I reasoned that someone else had rapped it and it held so it should hold us, right?  Kevin came down and reluctantly agreed, we pulled the rope above and I started down.  No backup.  About 15ft down I heard Kevin yell “Oh shit.” I fell backwards in the dark and started sliding. Something slammed me in the shoulder and I thought I’d just been stabbed by Kevin’s crampon.  Now I’m pretty sure it was the belay boulder. I had dreams about falling down a mountain before the trip and debated the merits of curling into a ball.   After a couple hundred feet I curled and immediately my foot caught the rock wall of the couloir sending me spinning off the rock wall below.  Airborne for some time, I thought the landing would tell the tale so I waited. We landed, bounced and slid another 500ft down the ice-chunk-littered avalanche cone. When we stopped I had a chunk out of my shoulder and my left foot was backwards.  Kevin was bruised and battered too and complained of a hurt knee but could walk.  The rescue is another story but I owe my life to the four guys camped above, Paul Roederick (the only pilot that could land there) and everyone else that helped.

Ryan Jennings is a passionate climber who currently lives in Carbondale where he is within close striking distance for new routing missions to Redstone. Besides being a bad ass climber, he can help you with all your real estate needs! Stay tuned for part 2!