Rock Smithing Climbers Are Making Their Mark On Oregon’s Smith Rock

The revolution is over. The late 1980s boom in sport climbing and the ensuing controversies in the tribal rock climbing community are essentially finished.

The gold and amber volcanic columns at Smith Rock, just northeast of Redmond, Ore., are still standing and still speckled with climbers like flies on honey-coated stones. Though some of the methods and personalities have changed, Smith Rock remains world-renowned for sport climbing.

“Smith Rock State Park will forever be known as America’s first sport climbing area,” said park ranger Doug Crispin.

“We kind of lost our ‘top of the heap’ status in the early ‘90s,” Crispin said. “Now, every summer there’s a new sport place that opens up, but we’ve maintained that grandfather image. It’s climber-friendly; people feel comfortable here.”

So what exactly is sport climbing?

Instead of rock climbers wedging nuts or expanding cams into cracks to secure safety ropes as they slowly scale up a rock, sport climbers rappel down from the top of a rock, power-drilling bolts for their ropes as they go.

At the same time, climbers can practice moves on a certain part of the climb that might be difficult while going up - all the while safely suspended from a secured rope from the top of the rock.

By this method, their ropes are slung to the rock about every six feet, ensuring that falls will never be too far. In the more traditional crack climbing, protection takes a long time to put in place and there aren’t always suitable cracks in which to place it, so there might be runs of 30 feet between rope-stops.

The extra safety allows for more daring moves on the face of the rock, but with less risk involved and less skill and experience required to be on the rock, period.

To some purists, the so-called shortcut of sport climbing takes the satisfaction as well as the adventure out of the sport.

When the sport climbing boom happened, many regulars feared that Smith Rock would be taken over by those wooed by slick advertisements, movies and music videos that played up the muscle-ripped sex appeal of the sport.

“There’s no doubt about it,” Crispin said. “The bolts led directly to it being available to the mainstream public. People can just grab a small amount of gear and get at it.”

Smith Rock is populated by both beginners and intermediates, as well as veterans who want a quick, hassle-free climb.

“There’s always been quite a few beginner climbers,” said Wade Hanel of Eugene. “But it’s hard to tell the beginners from the experts sometimes. These days everybody’s got the same equipment.”

Besides being the birthplace of sport climbing, one could say Smith Rock was born to the task.

According to Madras native Alan Watts - the so-called father of sport climbing and the author of the definitive guide book to Smith Rock climbs - the area has seen the use of pitons (pins hammered into cracks) as protection since the first recorded ascent in 1935.

In 1960, just months before the area was declared a state park, the sheer and overhanging column known as “Monkey Face” was conquered by a team “aid-climbing” to the top - using bolted straps as a ladder up the face.

The sound of the sport climbing boom at Smith Rock was heard ‘round the world in 1986 when French extreme climber J.B. Tribout tackled the world’s highest rated climb at the time, a top-bolted nightmare he dubbed “To Bolt or Not to Be.”

The route’s name implied the obvious - such a climb could never have been made “the old-fashioned” way, from the ground up.

“That was like breaking the four-minute mile in track and field,” Crispin said.

As bolting became more prevalent, especially on bald faces of rock, there was concern for the damage and visibility that the bolts, hangers and nylon safety slings caused.

“I’m a supporter of drill bans and other restrictions where appropriate,” Crispin said. “What’s acceptable at Smith Rock is not necessarily so at every park throughout the land.”

Even at Smith, where bolts are accepted, climbers have started to use camouflaged bolts and hangers that are hard to see except up close. Climbers have also started removing slings and other aids that stand out like drying laundry on the side of a rock. On a typical Monday, at the base of the Smith Rock crags, one can listen to a jumble of languages from around the world.

A survey of license plates in the parking lot shows crag rats from Colorado to Connecticut make a pilgrimage to pit their skills against such routes as “Scarface,” a finger-numbing, forearm-torching test of strength and guts. Only a handful of climbers in the world can ascend this strenuous route.

The crumbly sandy-red rock lacks the hardness of granite, but makes up for it in diversity. The 17- to 19-million-year-old welded rhyolite boasts a variety of texture and holds ranging from tiny flakes, knobs and cracks to giant wacos and water pockets.