I used to climb at Smith Rocks quite a bit. Living in Eastern Washington during the early years of my climbing, it was the closest destination area at seven hours away. In those early years I was stoked and I was strong, but I was not a good climber. I managed to do a couple bouldery 12s in the gullies, but it never occurred to me to climb in the lower gorge, as 5.10 on gear seemed impossible.
The last time I was at Smith was about 2003, and I was really curious what I would think of it after 20 years away. If I’m being really honest, I wasn’t that inspired. Back in the day, Smith felt big. It felt like a destination. Now, after traveling and climbing all over the country it felt like a chossy crag that just happened to be the best thing in central Oregon.
I didn’t take my feelings as a dis on Smith. Not at all. This is after all the place that birthed modern sport climbing in the United States, and for years held the hardest routes in the country. But I used to think of the place as intimidating, and I no longer do. It’s nice when the reality of a place can override the legend in your mind. It makes everything seem much more real.
The mission on this leg of the trip was to simply get in a lot of climbing, and get fit during our week in one of my old stomping grounds. Or, maybe I was tiptoeing back in those days. Jen got on the sharp end and led the hardest thing she’d done in a couple years. I led my hardest pitches of the trip, but I also bailed off an 11a that I just could not figure out, and I got Spartan kicked off the top of a 10d after messing up the beta and climbing myself into a trap.
And, of course, we took a quick lap up Monkey Face so Jen could check it out. The first time I did it, this tower was a massive undertaking, requiring every bit of technical knowledge I had. Two decades later, it was just a fun afternoon stroll down memory lane.
It was nice to get a little nostalgia and see Smith again. But after a quick fitness stop, I’m excited to head north toward granite.
