if a fall occurs, making head injuries likely without a helmet. Bolts can be manky (old and deteriorating), compromising their strength and security. In addition, some first-ascent parties fail to space bolts close enough to protect the leader safely at all points on the route, resulting in the rare but occasional runout sport route.
GROWING PAINS
Recent Changes
Like other changes in climbing history, the emergence in the 1980s of sport climbing did not occur overnight. Trends that laid the groundwork for this new method were in the works years before, mostly in Europe but also on a more covert level in the U.S. (see Appendix 3).
Once sport climbing caught on, conspicuous changes occurred rapidly within the sport, as well as in the climbing industry. First, the continuous-move difficulty ceiling was broken as talented, visionary sport pioneers used new tactics to establish routes previously considered unclimbable. New bolted climbing areas developed seemingly overnight, and ratings everywhere shot skyward. Then, a plethora of specialized gear and apparel erupted on the outdoor retail market to arm and outfit sport climbers. Of course, the indoor-climbing concept spread like wildfire, inspiring mainstream interest and an eventual dissolution of climbing’s former daredevil reputation. Eventually, these changes helped to launch the sport of climbing into the largest popularity explosion in its history.
Resistance & Ethical Debates
Changes within the sport were initially met with heated debates by two predominant factions whose voices have accompanied almost every new development in the sport since the early 1900s. The first group was made up of climbers who wholeheartedly embraced new technologies and methods as a way to push the sport’s standards and complete more difficult routes. The second included those who consider themselves purists, seeking aesthetics in a “less is more” adventure. Some of the latter believe that the less they rely on technology, the more valuable their experience will be. Some free climbers of this faction suggest that if climbers can’t succeed on a route without bringing the difficulty level down to their ability, perhaps they should climb something easier. Doug Robinson describes this principle elegantly in A Night on the Ground: A Day in the Open:
Technology is imposed on the land, but technique means conforming to the landscape. They work in opposite directions, one forcing a passage while the other discovers it. The goal of developing technique is to conform to the most improbable landscape by means of the greatest degree of skill and boldness supported by the least equipment.2
A fierce volley of ethical accusations and criticism ensued for several years over establishing routes on rappel, specifically, and sport-climbing tactics in general. Traditionalists were paranoid that the rap-bolters’ enthusiasm might transform their favorite walls into a grid of bolts, attracting swarms of people to otherwise quiet and serene crags. Sport aficionados complained that traditionalist dinosaurs, clinging to outdated methods, prevented the sport from moving forward. Trad climbers accused sport climbers of diminishing the value of achievement within the sport; sport pioneers and their young, talented protégés defended new tactics by thumbing their noses at old-schoolers with every new 5.13 they established. These heated debates were fueled by extreme emotions, probably comparable to the notorious debates in Yosemite Valley regarding the reliance on bolts and the use of fixed ropes on big walls in the 1960s (see Appendix 4).
Around 1988 I recall feeling pressure to choose one style or the other. But with time, tempers softened and the tenor of the debates changed. Both factions slowly came to embrace the “to each his own” aphorism, probably realizing that the choices climbers were making had less to do with ethics than with style. As a result, rapbolted routes and sport-climbing tactics slowly became more and more accepted. Today most climbers tolerate and perhaps even enjoy both styles of free climbing.
Rock Climbing Today
Since the advent of sport climbing, the popularity of all facets of rock climbing has skyrocketed. According to a study conducted by the Outdoor Industry Association (OIA, formerly the Outdoor Recreation Coalition of America) with Leisure Trends and the Gallup organization, in 1998, 1.1 million people in the U.S. were climbing enthusiasts (those owning a harness and rope who went climbing more than six times that year). In 1999, 5.7 million people participated in the sport at least once during the year. In 2001, Gallup and Leisure Trends began tracking climbers who specifically climbed with a rope and harness on natural rock surface outdoors. Participation in this category of climbing (which excludes bouldering and indoor climbing) remained consistent between 2001 and 2005 at around 5 million participants. While virtually no scientific studies were conducted prior to these dates for comparison purposes, longtime climbers know that these figures reflect a tremendous increase.
Now that you have a clear picture of what modern roped rock climbing looks like today, you’re ready to take a closer look at traditional lead climbing—its unique joys and challenges. In delving into the psyche of the traditional leader, Chapter 2 examines trad leading’s relationship to adventure, psychology, and personal ambition.
Chapter 2
Exploring the Traditional Lead Experience
A CLOSER LOOK
Traditional climbing is a complex and demanding endeavor spurring adventure, camaraderie, creativity, intuition, spontaneity, and commitment. It challenges you to be honest about your limitations and entices you by providing access to extraordinary places. It can be an extremely rewarding and joyous experience, or it can be a hair-raising joyride. It is always dangerous. Jeff Achey neatly summarizes the experience:
Key to the feeling [of traditional climbing] is invoking the spirit of mountain and crag, the inherent hazards and joys. As a trad climber you can’t be squeamish. You’ll be up on cliffs when it rains. You’ll use loose handholds. On a great day maybe you’ll get lost, cold, scared, and hungry. And when you make it back, a can of beans never tasted so good, and the campfire feels like the warm embrace of Mother Earth herself.3
Adventure
It’s obvious that the risks of trad leading far outweigh those of the sport lead. Why take the added risks? Adventure. But how do you define adventure in relation to climbing? When you set off on a traditional lead climb, you open the door to the unknown. This is the true embodiment of adventure at the crags. From the ground you may not be able to see the entire pitch. You may not know if an established anchor awaits you at the top or whether you need to conserve gear to build your own. How well you read the rock from the ground will determine whether you bring the right gear. You’ll rely on your topo map, as well as your own navigational skills and intuition to find your way upward. As you ascend, the route unfolds unexpectedly, one move at a time—each corner turned or bulge surmounted challenges you. If you run into trouble, you have little choice but to accept responsibility, get into action, and execute a solution. This is adventure.
Conversely, on sport turf you connect the dots up a line of pre-placed bolts with few surprises. In what is essentially a gymnastic exercise, you can see every bolt—even the anchors at the top. You know exactly how many quickdraws to bring. You know that your partner will lower you to the ground when you’re ready—whether it be at the anchors or when you’re simply too spent to make the next move. This may be fun, but it’s not adventure.
Commitment
The risk-taking inherent in trad leading keeps commitment levels high. On a sport lead, if you’re climbing poorly or the weather takes a turn for the worse, you can almost always retreat
