Colorado Gold

Old classics and new finds in Colorado's South Platte

Déjà vu—or, what do they call it the third time? Once again, the forecast is 40 and sunny—perfect. It’s January, and all my friends are skiing, save for one. Craig has given up a third powder day to help me slay this goliath of a crack, a 300-foot, four-pitch, offwidth squeeze that leaves my inner thighs so sore I can’t walk right for a week after an attempt. Even so, I can’t leave it alone. Establishing a new route on Cynical Pinnacle, one of the most iconic formations in Colorado, is a dream come true. Located a mere 150 feet right of Wunsch’s Dihedral, this obvious line has been pointedly ignored by climbers for decades. Someone had to do it. I’ve been defeated twice before by lack of gear, but this time I’ve called up seven different friends, borrowed the single Big Bro each one owns, and amassed an arsenal.

Beyond the first belay lies a mystery, as a massive offwidth roof blocks any view of the terrain ahead. I work my way into the roof and immediately feel a strange combination of claustrophobia and exposure, chest wedged firmly in an A-framed crack, legs kicking in space 100 feet off the ground. Too big to fit through the constriction, I wrestle outward, legs thrashing like helicopter rotors. I eke over the lip and finally stab a welcome foot edge. It snaps. My body lurches downward, but I wedge tight; slowly I regain the lost inches and sketch through, part from tenacity, part from fear of falling out of the roof onto the single Big Bro I’d left for pro, which I kicked burro-style on my way past. I carry on through the offwidth above and collapse on a ledge, heaving with exhaustion. Two wide and strenuous pitches later, we top out and name our new route in honor of all the climbers who have walked past it: Don’t Fear the Boogie Man (5.11c).

Not everyone will be up for a four-pitch wide crack like The Boogie Man, but this new line shares some features with hundreds of other unclimbed lines in Colorado’s sprawling South Platte region: It is clean, on bomber rock, is appallingly obvious, and was begging for a first ascent. Three- and four-star routes, from 30 feet to 1,300 feet, 5.8 to 5.14, await in quantity.

Why such incomplete development, so close to Colorado’s Front Range cities, after almost 90 years of climber exploration in the South Platte? First, the region is huge—600 square miles of craggy foothills just southwest of Denver and northwest of Colorado Springs—and just too spread out for any one group to dominate. Climbers from Colorado Springs largely developed crags in the south, including Turkey Rocks, Big Rock Candy Mountain, and Sheeprock. Meanwhile, Denverites (and the occasional Boulder climber) primarily climbed in the north, at crags like the Cynical Pinnacle, the Dome, and the Bucksnort Slabs.

As a result, the Platte has always lacked a unified climbing scene. The region spawned a few die-hards that might be considered “locals” in the 1970s and ’80s, but most of them have long since moved on or quit climbing altogether. For nearly 20 years, route development stagnated, with only the occasional first ascent—or so it seemed. Many Platte developers kept their activities secret. Slowly the ethos has changed, with information finally making it to the climbing websites and a new guidebook about to be published. Almost overnight, entire crags have exploded onto the scene.