Large Group at the Crag? Don’t Ruin it for the Rest of Us

Picture this: An open road through the mountains, taking the curves on a warm summer morning. Your open window lets in ponderosa-scented air as the cries of hawks and ravens carry over the breeze. Suddenly, a gang of Harley riders appears in the rearview mirror. Their glass-packed mufflers shatter the stillness. The motorcycles surround you like a river splitting around a boulder, forcing you to slow down, clench the wheel, and hold your lane till they’ve zoom by in their leather-clad dozens.

That’s precisely how I feel when a large, loud, un-self-aware group of climbers shows up at the crag or boulders—and now, even, the gym. Before you accuse me of being a get-off-my-lawn Boomer, let me make the point again in its most nuanced form: I’m not talking about encountering tons of people at a known popular crag like Smith Rock midday on a nice spring weekend. That’s like complaining about the Tokyo metro at rush hour. I’m talking about big posses that form through friend-group networking, social media, climbing clubs, or whatever, and arrive at a normally quiet crag or gym where people were already climbing.

I once encountered a big pack of climbers at Staunton State Park, Colorado. Even though my friend and I were the only other people in the Tan Corridor, they threw their packs right down on ours and started shout-bantering away while chomping apples in our faces. Then there were the climbers at Highlander Crag in Clear Creek Canyon, Colorado, who came up the hill in a pack train one morning. They threw their gear down on ours, before starting the two routes on either side of us. That day, it didn’t even matter that my buddy and I were the only other ones there and the crag has 31 other climbs. They were so loud, we were unable to exchange basic belay commands.

And the latest incident: A crew showed up at my local bouldering/boarding gym, The Campus, en masse and ignored the climbers already there. Backs turned to us, they grabbed random holds on the boards that were clearly in use, pulling on in street shoes as they shouted inanities across the gym (“Hey, Tony, how’s that crimper?”).

I realize that the sport has changed. It’s not just misanthropes, societal dropouts, and introverts anymore (I check all three boxes as a Gen X latchkey kid). And I understand that gyms and social media have shifted the conversation, as have the mores of the new generations. But I also think that self-awareness, common sense, and common courtesy make us all good stewards of the shared resource. If you don’t take the time to first read the room wherever you’re climbing, you run the risk of becoming the problem.

So, keep it in mind the next time you head out. Do you want to be a sports car passing that slower sedan up ahead on a mountain road quickly, quietly, and safely? Or would you rather be a loud Harley Hog, heedlessly disturbing everyone else’s day? Check yourself and your crew before you get to the crag—these places stay sacred as long as we treat them that way.

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