Ice climbers, like alpinists, have short memories. Come fall, the wet ropes, overburdened packs, and screaming barfies of the previous winter are long forgotten. As the Internet lights up with rumors of fresh ice, climbers start yearning for those first swings—or perhaps delicate taps—into glassy smears and dripping pillars. Early season ice climbing has its issues, though.
Take a look at some of the best hand-sized crack climbs across the country, from Nevada to West Virginia.
Climbers love to travel, but it can be annoying to visit a distant city solely for work or other reasons, thus interrupting your dedicated training schedule or weekend cragging plans. But don’t let non-climbing travel stop your fun. We tracked down 21 bouldering destinations within two hours of eight major cities—there’s no need to train inside an unfamiliar gym.
In recent years, bouldering has generated the most news on Mt. Evans. The striking granite blocs along the six-mile Chicago Creek basin and the jumbled apron of boulders above Lincoln Lake have seen an explosion of new routes. Roped climbers also have begun exploring Evans again after nearly two decades of relative stagnation. Two entirely new areas have been developed—the Tan Buttresses and Possibility Wall—at both ends of the difficulty spectrum.
Today, with countless steep sport climbing crags across the country, the art of delicate slab climbing on sweeping faces, with its emphasis on balance, smearing, and precise footwork, has somewhat lost its allure with the mainstream. So why risk a severe road rash by climbing slabs? Simple: it will make you a better climber.
Some climbers wait to attempt America’s greatest free routes until they’re good enough to do them in perfect style. But what if you are never that good? Purists would say you should stay off the climb—leave it for those who have the necessary strength and talent. I say go for it: Do your best to free climb, but don’t hang your head in shame if you pull on a piece or stand on a bolt.
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.
Those willing to put in the effort of a long approach will be rewarded with one of the biggest 5.8 routes in Rocky Mountain National Park—and a fraction of the climber traffic of many other Colorado alpine classics. Eight full pitches of alpine rock along a tilted ramp on the left side of the 1,000-foot east face will bring you to a short hike up the Hourglass Ridge to Alice’s summit, with one of the best views in the Park.
When it comes to camping, many climbers prefer a no-frills, quasi-wilderness experience, while others like their creature comforts. Whether you see sleeping under the stars as the best part of a climbing trip or a necessary evil, we've got you covered. We sifted through guidebooks, called park rangers, and solicited climbers to identify 10 (in no particular order) of the U.S. best drive-up climber campsites.
It was becoming a habit. Hoping to tick some routes before facing my abusive boss, I set out for a little before-work scramble in God's own playground, the Flatirons. The rising sun slanted through the pines as I approached the East Bench of the Third Flatiron.
No matter if it's for a hot date, for a meeting, for your girlfriend's period, or, in my case, in the season– "late"; is never good. Laboring halfway up a barren Colorado hillside in convulsive 100-degree July heat, I beg for mercy– and for shade.
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.
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