RMF Member Submission: Connecticut Climbing in the 70s - Part Three
Connecticut Climbing in the 70s - Part Three
Written by Mike Heintz, August 2023
It was sometime back in the early 70's that Yosemite legend (and personal hero of mine), Royal Robbins came to Connecticut. When he visited Ragged Mountain during his stay he was heard to exclaim with a smile, "This is real crag climbing!" and then went on to compare it to climbing in the UK.
I guess that's about the most perfect way to describe Connecticut as any I can think of. Climbers may be more apt to climb here because they live here rather than vice versa, but it's always been more than just a bunch of local cliffs out in the woods to practice on. And while some of the lesser crags sometimes suffer from an annoying tendency of having one or two really good climbs, a hand full worth doing since you're already there, and the remainder best forgotten, it is on the whole a great place to climb. Typically, the rock is steep, sustained, often strenuous, and difficult to protect. Perhaps most significant of all, it's hard to figure sequences out. It's a rare route that you can stand on the ground, look up and piece together the correct moves ahead of time. Same goes for protection. What looks like a good placement often isn't, and conversely, surprise placements seem to pop out of nowhere.
The result of this phenomena, and maybe you've already discovered this for yourself, is that Connecticut climbers typically perform well on the road. They have a tendency to adapt quickly to other areas and rock types.
When those of us who were active during the 70's set out to test ourselves at some of the better known climbing areas around the country, we were surprised at how well we measured up. Places like Eldorado Canyon seemed especially easy to adapt to. The rock felt similar to what we were used to, and often less sustained. Connecticut is a great training ground.
Casey Newman, Eldorado Canyon. Photo by Tony Trocchi.
Connecticut climbers during the 70’s made annual pilgrimages to both Eldorado and Yosemite. Here Casey is seen on the classic Yellow Spur (5.9). Casey loved Eldorado so much he eventually moved there, where he lives to this day.
Obviously Ragged Mountain has more than one or two good lines, many more in fact. For the first few years during the 70's, climbing in Connecticut meant climbing at Ragged pretty much exclusively. There had been sporadic visits to some of the outlying crags, East Peak and Pinnacle Rock in particular, but Ragged was where it was at. A general awakening took place however, around 1974, when we all suddenly looked up and took notice of the vast potential which existed in the form of the many other cliffs all around us.
The name Ken Nichols will forever incite debate and controversy within the Connecticut climbing community, but Ken deserves credit, more than anyone else, for changing our attitudes about these outlying cliffs. In 1974, he wrote a supplement to the existing Ragged guide. Though this little green pamphlet featured only a few additions to the established cliffs, it included several new crags, mostly around the East side. Though none of these new areas would play a big role in the future development of Connecticut climbing, they changed our thinking about exploring elsewhere.
There is a popular misconception that Ken led the charge so to speak, the rest of us following in his footsteps. While it is true he was one of the earliest to recognize the potential of these other destinations, several teams explored and developed independently. When Ken announced his intention to begin working on a new guide, one which would include all the traprock ridges of central Connecticut, he became the repository of new route information, thus becoming a central figure. Connecticut was somewhat unique in that it had no central hub or meeting place, like New Paltz in the Gunks, or North Conway at Cathedral Ledge. The traditional practice of maintaining a notebook at some frequented location where anyone could view and add entries, wasn't practical in this diffused community. This inconvenient situation was the origin of the dominant position Ken attained and held for years. Until the guidebook was published in 1982, you had to go through him to be in the loop.
Various Connecticut Rock Climbing guides through the years. Photo by Codey Foster, RMF Board Member.
That's not to say we didn't sometimes all climb together. There was less animosity during that period than in later years. Often times many of us, Ken included, all gathered at the same crag to climb.
And so began a sort of "Climbers Manifest Destiny", with several teams seeking out and exploiting the many outlying crags, from Plainville to Meriden. We climbed literally hundreds of new routes in just a few years. Sometimes everyone would gather at the same newly discovered destination and systematically climb every line on it, believing we were leaving nothing behind, but often proven wrong later.
We uncovered many classics, but also a lot of very unremarkable lines, best relegated to obscurity. British expat Paul Ross, having over 1000 first ascents to his credit, once said to me, "I'd rather climb a shitty new route, than repeat a good one." Despite that sentiment, or perhaps because of it, Paul has the FA of some of the finest routes in the Northeast; Vertigo, Labyrinth Wall, The Prow, to name a few. His willingness to take a chance on the unknown is what it took to uncover these gems.
Girdle Traverses were all the rage for a while, and many of Connecticut's crags have one or two. The Small Cliff at Ragged actually has four! A high and a low, in both directions. Pinnacle Rock has two, one in each direction, which were both established simultaneously, the two parties passing each other en-route. It's one way to extract a multi-pitch route out of a small crag. Actually, it's a shame nobody seems interested in them anymore. Traverses require specialized skills, and a hyper-awareness of protection considerations for the second. In fact, on several girdles the crux pitch is more challenging to second than to lead. It's just as well though. Today's cliffs are more crowded. A party traversing sideways on a busy day would be pretty annoying, I suppose.
Also popular for a while was ascending as many routes in a day as possible. It began as a way to train for big wall routes in places like Yosemite, then became a game in itself. At Ragged, one team eventually did every reasonably protected route on the Main Cliff in one day, something like 40 pitches of climbing. The key was to have a fixed rappel descent, and to throw the rope off the top after every climb instead of coiling it. I don't remember when that was done now, but hopefully it wasn't on a busy weekend.
Connecticut also has a tradition for boldness. History has a tendency to remember the most difficult routes, but often fails to pay homage to the scariest ones, routes which were huge psychological achievements, though they might have been slightly less difficult. This element of boldness has always been an important facet of climbing here. It is only natural that as standards advance, yesterday's test pieces become tomorrow's trade routes. Long after ascending routes such as Dol Guldur and Scheherazade become commonplace, routes like Harry Brielman's Netherlands, or Bob Clark's Jessica, will remain as frightening to lead as they ever were. This important aspect, inherent to climbing here, is another reason Connecticut climbers have always performed well visiting other areas.
Kim Smith, Unconquerable Crack (5.9), Ragged Mountain, 1978. Photo by David Stone.
This photo first appeared on the cover of an IME catalog. It shows Kim leading the Ragged Mountain 5.9 classic, Unconquerable Crack. Though well-protected, the route is quite sustained. More than one climber has taken a huge whipper above the crux because they were too pumped to stop and place protection. John Dowd (who was active during the Streibert/Reppy era of the 60’s) once told me that Unconquerable originally had the reputation of only being climbable by those who could do 100 pull-ups. Good thing it’s not true, as I’ve never been able to do more than 10.
Mike Heintz was very active climbing throughout the 70's and 80's. He has over a hundred first ascents, and first free ascents, here in Connecticut, and several more throughout New England and New York. He briefly ran a climbing school here in the late 70's, after guiding for IME up in North Conway. He is a retired engineer, currently residing in Bellingham, WA with his wife Kristina, where he spends his time designing tiny houses and drinking martinis. He still gets out to the crags occasionally, but climbs now like the old man that he has become. Hiking, especially long distance walks in the UK, is his current passion.