Golden Tears (WI4+), Dubois, Wyoming
Partway along the road between the sport climbing mecca of Lander and the big alpine routes in Grand Teton National Park, the hamlet of Dubois, Wyoming, offers up a variety of ice climbing objectives including the region’s classic, Golden Tears (aka Golden Tiers). Since the first ascent in 1984 by Michael Bailey, Greg Collins, and George Van Sickle, completing this 500-foot, three-pitch route has become a rite of passage for area ice climbers looking to step it up from single-pitch routes.
Captain Beyond (5.10c), Boulder, Colorado
Mickey Mouse Wall and the twin summits forming its namesake “ears” loom above the eastern ramparts of the Colorado Rockies. Outside the borders of Eldorado Canyon State Park, Mickey Mouse offers an array of stellar routes. The sandstone has fractured into cleaner vertical lines than nearby Eldorado, leaving splitters and dihedrals in place of face holds. But despite its being visible on the horizon, a mention of the wall is often met with blank stares. The crowds are kept down by the hour-long approach and by the cliff’s annual raptor closure. For those willing to make the trek, Mickey Mouse’s 500-foot south face holds a classic five-pitch trad route, Captain Beyond.
Rumor Has It (5.11b), Rifle Mountain Park, Colorado
The first sport climb ever redpointed at Rifle, Colorado, was not a bulging wall of seeping pockets or a blocky overhang overcome with kneebars—it was a vertical gray streak of funky laybacks and edges called Rumor Has It, which climbers today seem to either love or hate. The early history of this American sport climbing mecca is murky—several teams of climbers began exploring separate sectors of Rifle’s two-mile limestone canyon around the same time in the late 1980s—but there’s no question that Mark Tarrant was the first to recognize the area’s sport potential.
Kahl Wall (III 5.10-), Yamnuska, Canadian Rockies
Yamnuska's 1,000-foot white limestone fin looks like it could have been plucked from the eastern Alps and plunked down in the foothills of the Canadian Rockies. Just a few minutes’ drive from Canmore, the hub of Rockies climbing, Yam is Dolomitic in its easy accessibility, steepness, style of climbing (face and jagged cracks, with plenty of souvenir holds littering the ledges), and blend of fixed and place-your-own protection. Climbers have been exploring this storied cliff for 60 years, and among the 115 or so routes, Kahl Wall is a favorite for its variety, relatively clean rock, and good pro.
California Flake (III 5.9), Adirondacks, New York
With more than 30 rock routes and unrivaled scenery, Avalanche Lake is one of the most spectacular backcountry climbing destinations in the Adirondack Park. A two-hour approach through lush forest and along cold, clear streams will deposit you at the northern end of the lake, where sheer walls of anorthosite plunge to the water’s edge. This sublime pass is popular among hikers, and climbing has a long history at the lake. Fritz Wiessner climbed here in the 1940s, lending his name to one of many Wiessner routes in the Adirondacks. Nearly 100 years before that, Mt. Colden (4,714 feet) was first climbed from the lake via the Trap Dike (4th class, 2,000 feet), still a popular mountaineering objective.
Scarface (5.11b), Indian Creek, Utah
Certain climbs just beg for the hero shot: the crazy stem box of El Matador at Devils
Tower, for example, or the overhanging headwall of High Exposure at the Gunks, or
the wildly exposed sport climbs of Yosemite’s Killer Pillar. Spectacular position or unique
moves, a stunning backdrop, and—perhaps most important of all—easy access to prime
shooting positions combine for can’t-miss photos. Nearly every climber who does one of
these routes eventually posts the proof at Facebook or Flickr.
The Headache (II 5.10), Zion National Park, Utah
Zion National Park is best known for its sandstone big walls and long, committing free routes, such as Moonlight Buttress and Monkey Finger. But Zion also hosts many less intimidating free climbs that don’t require overnighting on a portaledge or freaking out on loose runouts. In 1975, Brian Smith and Dana Geary discovered and climbed the near-perfect three-pitch hand crack that became The Headache (II 5.10)—a climb that seems poorly named considering the excellent reviews it gets from the majority of climbers.
Davis-Holland to Lovin' Arms (5.10c), Index, Washington
If it's not quite big-wall free climbing, it’s the next best thing. It sure felt big to me when my first trip up Davis-Holland to Lovin’ Arms yielded close-up views of BASE jumpers and bald eagles, both taking flight as I tried my best not to. With a crux of well-protected 5.10 moves and a stunning position above the Central Cascades’ Skykomish Valley, this six-pitch line on Index’s Upper Town Wall provides even the weekend warrior with an unforgettable dose of exposure.
Pyscho-Path (5.9+), Big Gypsum Valley, Colorado
Most of the famous sandstone towers of the Colorado Plateau are in Utah, and most of them are 5.10 or harder. But deep in Big Gypsum Valley, in southwestern Colorado, there’s a seldom-climbed tower that goes at a modest 5.9+, yet holds one of the most exciting pitches in the desert. From some angles, Psycho Tower looks a bit like the Geico gecko standing up on its hind legs.
Dopey Duck (5.9), Shortoff Mountain, Linville Gorge, North Carolina
Deep in the North Carolina mountains stands a wall of immaculate quartzite. This prominent mile-long cliff, which reaches heights up to 450 feet, is Shortoff Mountain, and the classic Shortoff route is the sustained 5.9 Dopey Duck, a 350-foot, three-pitch jug route established in 1981 by the Royal Robbins of Linville Gorge—Tom Howard.
Black Dike (WI4 M3), Cannon Cliff, Franconia, New Hampshire
For 40 years, the mystique of New Hampshire’s classic Black Dike has endured. Yvon Chouinard called it a “black, filthy, horrendous icicle,” and New Englanders were shocked when John Bouchard soloed the first ascent in 1971. Originally graded WI5-, the three-pitch route’s difficulties have eased somewhat thanks to fatter ice conditions in recent years and modern equipment. But the reputation and attraction are so powerful that it sees eager aspirants heading up while orange leaves still color the trees and warm rock beckons in the sun nearby.
Snake Dike (III 5.7 R), Yosemite National Park, California
What makes a route classic? Is it the
runouts, the exposure, the quality of movement,
the folklore, or the stone itself? In the
case of Eric Beck, Jim Bridwell, and Chris
Fredericks’ 1965 route Snake Dike, on the
southwest face of Yosemite’s Half Dome, the
answer to all these questions is a resounding
“Yes!” making it a strong contender for the best 5.7 in the Valley, if not the world.
Skyline (5.8), City of Rocks National Reserve, Idaho
Rising from a surreal sea of granite domes, Morning Glory Spire stands proud at the heart of the City, calling out to climbers. Home to challenging routes like Brown Flake (5.10d), Power Tools (5.12c), and the 1960s Greg Lowe testpiece Crack of Doom (5.11c)—a spicy trad route that features face moves into a stellar crack—the spire also boasts one of the City’s most classic and aesthetic (read: popular) lines: Skyline.
Stanley-Burgner (III 5.9+, six pitches), Prusik Peak, the Enchantments, Washington
First climbed in 1968 by Ron Burgner and Fred Stanley — all free save two points of piton aid for Burgner (leading) — this south-facing, 600-foot route sits squarely inside the Stuart Range in Washington’s Central Cascades. Fred Beckey named the area between Icicle Creek and Ingalls Creek “Cashmere Crags,” and it has some of the range’s most classic alpinerock routes, only three hours from Seattle. Beckey’s 1962 ascent of Prusik Peak’s South Face (5.9) had impressed Stanley.
Bishop's Terrace (I 5.8), Church Bowl, Yosemite National Park, California
There's no shortage of splitter climbs in the granite crucible. Exhaustingly long, deadly committing, or outrageously difficult — you’ll find them all. But not all the lines are epic; some appeal more for their friendly flavor and grand aesthetics. One such route lies on the Valley’s northeast end, in the accessible Church Bowl: Bishop’s Terrace.
Coyote Tower (5.10c) Courthouse Butte, Arizona
Over the last decade, the Flagstaff photographer John Burcham
has amassed a neo-classic FFA quiver of adventure gems on Sedona,
Arizona’s best towers and cliffs. The “adventure” begins in town, with
gourmet dog-treat bakeries, alien-vortex jeep tours, and kitschy
galleries. The local stone is exciting, too.
The Daddy (III 5.6 or 5.8) Linville Gorge, NC
Adventure quartzite for well-seasoned and aspiring trad dads alike - Linville Gorge, the “Grand Canyon of the East,” is an adventure-cragger’s heaven in North Carolina’s remote Pisgah National Forest — 21 miles from the nearest town. The 14-mile, 2,000-foot-deep gneissic gorge has hundreds of routes from single- to multi-pitch.
Whodunit (5.9; eight pitches) Tahquitz Rock, California
A delectable mystery leads to a satisfying cliffhanger - As you rack up in the parking lot below Tahquitz Rock, it’s nearly impossible not to feel the history seeping out of every dignified crack and feature on the granite above. This is, after all, the embryonic loins, the Fertile Crescent, and the cradle of civilized (if you can call it that) American climbing all rolled into one.
EPINEPHRINE (IV 5.9) - Black Velvet Canyon, Red Rock National Conservation Area, Nevada
In 1978, Jorge Urioste bolted high on an airy extension what would later become Epinephrine to Joe Herbst and Tom Kaufman’s Original Route (5.9), on the Black Velvet Canyon’s eponymous wall. Then an insect bit him. While Urioste experienced an anaphylactic reaction, he and his wife, Joanne, rapped without delay and hurried to a Las Vegas ER.
Kor-Ingalls (III 5.9) - Castleton Tower, Castle Valley, Utah
The desert spire that helped launch a revolution - “I was startled there could be such a thing,” says Huntley Ingalls, the first climber to spot the 400-foot (now) desert icon Castleton Tower. It was 1956, and Ingalls had happened upon Castleton, the Fisher Towers, and the Six Shooters during a gravity survey for the United States Geological Survey. His other impression? “That Castleton was beautiful,” says Ingalls. “It struck me as a classic.”
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