Classic Crack

Classic Crack just sounded so cool you had to do it. The short practice route on Eight Mile Rock, just up the Icicle Creek Road, was not many miles from Castle Rock. Easily top-roped, a popular hangout for climbers who wanted to practice hand jamming. The fundamental technique involved inserting your hand into the crack and wedging it tight by some combination of twisting or contortion so that you could put weight on it as you climbed up. Classic Crack angled up to the left from the ground before straightening up. That introduced additional difficulty with balancing issues added to the equation. We practice climbed the awkward crack with both hand and foot jams.

The best way to do it was not by drawing on physical strength but with technique and finesse, and that’s why the practice was so valuable. If you were able to make several consecutive ascents and feel in control and rhythmically flowing upward, you had then added another technique skill to your quiver. And would soon be ready to handle such cracks on longer, more committed routes with confidence.

Both a test piece and a milestone with a meaningful rite of passage, Classic Crack challenged us all. The scene was much like you might expect of a small gathering at any demonstration of skill. Each climber, in turn, would approach the crack, hands taped, pause for a moment, and enter the crack looking to solve the puzzle. Waiting climbers would observe and evaluate, noting both skilled and fumbling moves. A gathering place to meet other members of the climbing community, we took turns belaying each other. It felt like family.

This is a brief excerpt from ‘To Climb a Rock,’ an early story in my recently released memoir. Banquet of the Infinite is now available as an eBook on Amazon, Barnes & Noble, and Kobo.