Harald Roeker does the FA of Jagun (V13/14) at Parkplatzwand in the Allgau.
Harald Roeker does the FA of Jagun (V13/14) at Parkplatzwand in the Allgau.
Imagine this: climbing is your passion,
your life, your raison d’être, so much so, in
fact, that you leave a lucrative electrical-engineering
job to make guidebooks. And
then, to ensure those guidebooks’ accuracy,
you maintain yourself as a ripped physical
specimen so you can climb (and establish)
routes across the entire grade spectrum, up
to 5.14b/c (Walk of Life, Allgäu) and V13/14
(Feuerwalze, Schwäbische Alb). This is the
case with Harald Röker, 39, a German lifer
now living in the crag-dense Allgäu.
With his brother Uli, the congenial
Röker runs the GEBRO Verlag publishing
house (est. 2005), which has produced 11
guides (16 editions) to Euro destinations: the
Frankenjura (first English-language books);
bouldering in Tinos, Greece; the first-ever
bouldering guide to the Alps, covering about
32 areas in northern Italy; and southern
Germany’s Allgäu, with its 26 bouldering areas
and sandstone/limestone/conglomerate
sport crags. Röker established at least 500
boulder problems around Allgäu while writing
his book, a big jump from the sub-100 routes
previously there. “Doing new problems and
making the guidebook for them,” says Röker.
“Life could be worse.”
When did you get into climbing?
Around 1977. My brother Uli was fascinated by climbers at the Reußenstein at Schwäbische Alb,
so he bought a 30-meter rope and some pegs,
then started to climb with self-made rope ladders
at the clay quarry near our house. Once a
year, our parents took us to the Wental crags
at the Schwäbische Alb, and we climbed the
rock towers with mostly self-made material,
like nuts made from wooden slats and harnesses
made of slings.
How did the guidebook business
come about? In 2001, I had surgery for a dislocated left
shoulder. All went well with the operation, [and
afterward] I quit my job for at least half a year
to climb. I was bouldering a lot in the Alps, and
made topos for myself. I moved to Allgäu, and
many people asked for info on the Alps bouldering,
so the idea was born to make a guidebook:
the Blocheart. My brother quit his job then, too.
In the past, he’d made topos for the Frankenjura
just for fun, but everyone said, “Hey, you should
make topos!” And so it was that we founded
GEBRO Verlag.
What attracts you to writing guidebooks?
The more areas published, the fewer people will
be in any one area. The challenge is to write the
books really well. When someone wants to enjoy
his rare holiday days, he should not spend those
days searching for the crags!
Tell me about your unending motivation
for new climbs. Doing a new route or problem is always
special—a bit like Christopher Columbus in
miniature. One really inspiring thing was the
first ascent of a 7a problem on a Tinos boulder,
overhanging on all sides and not one easy way
up. When I stood on top, I think I was the first
human on the stone ever. Not really important,
I know, but somehow a strong feeling.
It can also be a lot of work, no?
Sure. Last year, I developed a conglomerate
crag here in Allgäu, steep with big roofs. The
rock is very, very smooth and pocketed, so
you have to use glue-in [bolts]. On one climb,
it took me about three days to bolt, one day
to clean the loose rock and dirt, and one
more day to clean each hold and climb the
route. I was in the harness fi ve to eight hours
a day.
You’ve repeated blocs like Atomic Playboy (V12) in Fontainebleau. Do you keep
a scorecard?
This system of scorecards destroys a bit of
sport climbing’s spirit, destroys a bit the honesty
in the world. Climbing for me is the rock
and nature, solving problems that nature has
put up. A scorecard is so far away from all that
is climbing for me.
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