Can We Use Less Chalk?

from previous page

cross. What was I thinking? Of course there were trees and brush along the creek. The men pushed through like bull elephants, if you can imagine elephants in the Northwest. My head was the height of the tangle of saplings, face-whacking saplings. Three weeks later I still carry a bruise across my cheek.

We looked for a place to cross, but the rocks were moss covered and the creek too wide to jump. It was not a sweet gurgling brook. It was a torrent, rushing over and among the boulders on each side. The fast-flowing water may have been only a foot or two deep, but it clearly had power. We came to an old fallen tree across the creek, a log moss covered and possibly rotten, about 18 inches wide. The three of us stood looking at it. The rushing water was visible through a split at the near end, and getting off at the other side appeared tricky.

After staring at the log for a period of time, I said, “I can cross that on my hands and knees.” To my surprise the men said they would traverse on hands and knees, too. I paused halfway, crossing on the emerald green moss to admire the white water rushing under me.

Then there was more discussion on how to find the road, and again I left the decision to the men. I noticed how for many years I led the hikes, making the decisions, and now I was able to “just go along.” It was time for the youngsters to take over.

We saw terrain I had never seen, I managed to stay upright bush-whacking, and we eventually found the road, an easy return downhill to the trailhead and car. Another adventure to add to the many in our years of hiking together!

CAN WE USE LESS CHALK?

by Ali Gray

Climbers, I have a question for you. What do you notice when you visit a popular climbing destination like Smith Rock? The incredible natural beauty all around you? The amazing cliffs just asking to be scaled? The tiny climbers high on the walls, ascending the route you want to try later?

Yes, I notice those things, too. But I also notice rock covered with white ...something. I've passed hikers on the trail wondering what that white stuff is—bird droppings, maybe? Now, we all know that white stuff is chalk, built up by thousands of climbers over days and years. Routes that receive less rain in the already arid central Oregon climate can hold chalk for seasons, and some of it never seems to go away.

I'm guilty as charged, suffering from sweaty hands and using an overabundance of chalk when I climb. That said, I've also noticed and been slightly annoyed that Smith Rock, a place celebrated for its natural beauty, has plentiful white, human-made blemishes all over its rock faces. Part of me attributes these to the stamps of a fantastic sport, like ski tracks on a mountain. But unlike ski tracks, which get erased by the next snow or the spring sun, climbing chalk in high enough quantities can over time degrade the rock, visually and physically. It also seems somewhat out of place with the Leave No Trace ethic most of us embrace in the outdoors.

This chalk-on-rock issue recently came to my attention when I read an announcement that climbing chalk and chalk substitutes were banned in Garden of the Gods Park this past March. This popular climbing destination near Colorado Springs features striking red rock, not dissimilar from Smith. The reason for the ban? To preserve the natural beauty of the rock formations. Until reading this, I hadn’t thought that the chalk at Smith is, or should be, an issue the climbing community should address. But maybe the time has come.

So, I pose you a question, fellow climbers. Can you use less chalk when you climb outside? Maybe rather than automatically chalking up every handful of moves out of nervousness (me), use it when and where you actually need the extra grip. Aim for a fine coat of chalk, not a thick, caked-on layer—this will help your climbing anyway. Or, use a chalk substitute such as a non-marking Metolius Eco Ball or Liquid Grip. There are even companies like Climbing Addicts and PurChalk making gray and red chalk. Another option is tying a small rag to your harness to dry your hands.

There's no question places like Smith are a climber's paradise, but they're not only for climbers. Let's do our best to leave less (or better yet, no) trace, and leave these places intact for everyone.