A Route By Any Other Name

I have to admit, there’s a trend in climbing these days that is really getting under my skin. No, it’s not boomboxes at the cliff or permadraws, it’s referring to climbs by their grade instead of their name. Statements like “Want to do that 10c over there,” or “How’s that 12a?” Why can’t we just call a route by its name, or maybe describe it, like, did you check out the climb with that rad tufa pinch cross through sequence on it? But we are lazy, so we talk in grade speak.

Personally, I think this detracts from the experience for a couple of reasons. For one, route names are often creative expressions of the first ascentionist, and can be funny, descriptive, tell a story, etc. Bottom Feeder was a jab at the people coming to Rifle who didn’t put up routes. Down with Disease was put up while the developer dealt with a bout of Lyme disease. And so it goes. But I also think this trend reflects a deeper problem, that we are constantly measuring our progress by the grades we climb, which is a somewhat flawed system.

Gauging our progress in this manner would really only be useful if grades were universal, which they are not. Someone might be able to climb a 5.11 at one cliff, but only 5.10 at another, and maybe only 5.9 at yet another. A 5.8 climber at the Gunks, for example, would find themselves capable of many easy 5.10 sport routes in other places.  Even indoors, where all factors are controllable, grades vary from facility to facility. Some intentionally sandbag, so it feels easier when you go outside. Others try to provide an accurate indoor portrayal of outside difficulty. Even in the one venue where grades could be universal, they are not, giving us little consistency outside of localized regions.

And then you add in the fact that routes are different for everyone. I’m tall and can reach the next jug easily, so it’s 5.8. My wife is short and there are no intermediates in between, so it’s solid 5.10. Or we’re at Indian Creek, where 5.10 for me is 5.11 for small hands, and 5.11 for me is 5.10 for those with small hands. Now, I’ll admit that grades are nice to give you a general idea of what to expect, but when you’ve been climbing awhile, you know generally what a certain level of climbing will feel like. For example, I know what 5.10 effort feels like, regardless of whether it’s called 5.10 or 5.8.

Also, I think there can be a lot of baggage attached to a grade. You know what you SHOULD be able to climb, so if it’s harder you might be really apprehensive about trying it, and if it’s easier and feels hard, you might be disappointed with your performance. When I lead climbing trips for a local high school, especially to a place like Indian Creek, we don’t tell them what they’ve been climbing on until the end of the trip. Some are surprised by how hard they climbed, others by how easy a route was they fell off. But in the end, they are free to enjoy the moment, without attaching any significance to a random and arbitrary grade.

This is how I would love to approach climbing, as unrealistic as it might be. Go out, find something that inspires me, and have at it, regardless of what the grade is. Do it for the fun of climbing, attempt to climb it in the best style that I can, as the grade is, in the end, not giving me anything compared to the movement and aesthetic beauty I’ll find waiting for me.