Rock Craft

Used up, rusty, old climbing toys

Without the hard work of many inspired climbers, climbing would not be a "sport". After nearly a decade of climbing, today marks the first route I have bolted on my own. In between work and rain, my last two weeks have been devoted to this task. The fact that it is new, that it is my own, and it can be whatever I want it to be, is very exciting.

My perception of route development has been glorified by climbing books and movies. The old stone masters established routes in all the most spectacular areas of the country, and made climbing what it is today. As pioneers of the sport, they hold a mythical status in my mind. Yet, dangling in my harness with legs numb from lack of circulation, and my hands vibrating from hammering, I began to understand why they did it. Not for glory or building the sport, they established routes for the same reasons I was alone hanging on some forgotten rock in the middle of the woods. I was bolting because I saw a line that I wanted to climb. The payoff is a single moment when I can connect all the moves, and see my vision become a reality. Regardless, of who will climb the route after me, I pour myself into this project so that I can play. That is the only reason needed.

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