By Tom O’Halloran
Chipping, I’ve always been fascinated by this topic. Artificially altering the rock with drill, chisel or glue to create holds and movement that didn’t naturally exist. People’s threshold of what constitutes chipping, varies as wildly as political position. Where you ethically etch your line in the stone is not a conversation for now however. The fact is, it’s here and it’s created some stonker pieces of climbing.
Before you throw a 16mm drill bit at me, I’d like to get one thing straight. I’m a natural kinda guy. I don't like fake. What nature has provided us to be mesmerised, tormented, psyched and fulfilled by will never be surpassed. However, some folks across the years have taken it upon themselves to enhance or manipulate an experience. Is it a kin to an archaic, analog Virtual Reality?
Antoine le Ménestrel on his La Rose et le Vampire. P Unknown.
The birthplace of chipping, no one will ever know, though it certainly became commonplace during the 80’s. As climbers began using bolts to climb rock faces which weren’t protectable on natural gear.
If a climb has enough cracks, slots and features to be protected by nuts and hexes, it’s safe to assume there’s probably room to wriggle your fingers into something. With the introduction of bolts, the previously unprotectable ‘blank’ faces, began to be explored.
When there’s no cracks to jam your digits in, climbers become reliant on different features to get themselves up the wall. If a hold isn’t big enough or perhaps just non-existent, maybe the rock is paid a visit by Commander Hammer and Captain Chisel. Is this a lack of imagination from the route equipper? Impatience by lowering the route to their current level? Greed for stealing it from future generations? Or breathing life into the stone to create a classic? No matter the reason, it’s happened, is happening and will continue to.
Wolfgang Gullich, on ‘the move’ on La Rose. P Thomas Ballenberger
What intrigues me is where these routes or boulders sit in the context of history.
La Rose et le Vampire is perhaps one of the most famous sport climbs in the world. An overhung pocketed wall at Buoux in the South of France. It was the fourth route in the world graded 8b/31 and first climbed by Antoine Le Menestral in 1985. The description for the route reads ‘chipped, but chipped well.’
Thirty five years on, the route remains a prized ascent. Climbers travel from the other side of the world, spending thousands of dollars and countless hours training in the hope they can become a part of the routes history and list of ascentionists. It’s an artificially enhanced experience but gives purpose to those climbers and a memory they’ll have forever. La Rose only contains a few chipped holds to bring the line to life.
On the extreme end of the spectrum, we have Le Bronx, 34/8c+ climbed by Francois Petit in 1994. In a great little clip from 2016, top British climber, James Pearson, describes the route brilliantly. ‘A masterpiece, truly visionary, with only 3 natural holds out of 30.’ Yep, that’s right, only 10% of the holds on this climb existed before the equipper set his sights on the wall. There can’t be that many other routes rockin’ this kind of ratio. Regardless, plenty of top-level climbers have travelled to the crag to climb this route. It’s not a random French obscurity, it’s legendary history that continues to inspire.
I surely don’t need to go into all the positives of having climbing in your life; you know them as well as I do. However the purpose and excitement you feel when you’re frothing on your up coming trip or project is hard to overstate. It’s an all out froth fest. A lack of purpose is a huge factor in making people feel unhappy in life. If a chipped route provides you or someone else with purpose, does this justify the sin? Does the end justify the means?
I’ve watched a lot of hard climbing go down in my life. There’s an intensity the climbers have which you don’t see from others. It may be fun and laughs on the ground, but as soon as it’s go time, watch out. Beastmode engage, they’re here for business.
James Pearson adding a touch of the old with the new. Le Bronx. P Francisco Taranto
Once I was hanging at the crag and watching a group of climbers trying a route. The climb is a classic and at the time it was first done, represented the top level of difficulty. The ethical asterisk hovers at the end of the climb however, *it’s chipped. The climbers knew this was the case, but they were still there, chalking up their hands and giving it everything.
Watching the climbers sinking their teeth into the process looked no different to any other natural route. They were trying bloody hard to get to the top. A couple of them had already done multiple six-hour return trips from home to try and climb it. That’s not insignificant levels of motivation.
The asterisk is there though, hanging like a bad smell. When describing climbs, it generally doesn't take too many sentences to find out if something’s been enhanced. I’d argue there’s not a climber who wouldn’t prefer to have the natural experience. But to have nothing at all? You don’t know what you don’t know. But knowing what once was, is a tough pill to swallow.
All these climbs are now slices of history and considered ‘classics.’ But where do the modern, chipped routes sits? It’s pitchforks and burning at the stake these days. I wonder how will we view them in three decades. Will some rise above the rest to join the older classics or is it the context and point in time in which they were chipped, that allows the older routes discretions to be forgiven? Perhaps a few will make it through? Though the radically changing ethics and approaches we’ve seen shift in the past few years, may hold these new routes accountable. It’s hard to know without the crystal ball. To a degree I liken chipping to performance enhancing drugs. When you chip, you artificially advantage yourself to perform better against the challenge. It’s interesting when we look at sport; when the challenge is against another human, drugs enhance the level. When the challenge is against the inanimate, the inanimate is enhanced. There’s a need to conquer the here and now.
It’s also worth keeping in mind the context in which the routes were chipped. As I say earlier, it was entirely common practice in the 80s and 90’s. Some of this may have been as an attempt to enhance the climber’s chance of success and some due to necessity. Climbing gyms weren’t a thing back then, yet climbers still wanted to train. Why not find a blank section of cliff somewhere and tap in a few holds? Just a few routes for laps for you and the few others.
Thirty years later, modern climbers don’t seem to be able to empathise with climbers of the past. Poor/mainly chipped, is logged on their 8a.nu scorecard. Not knowing this was where the locals used to train, before a cultural shift in chipping ethics and early home walls.
I also think we need to keep in mind, with all these ‘discretions’ from the past, that climbing was an entirely different sport. Heck, no one was even calling it a sport back then. Climbing was only a few people, hanging out in the shadow of an obscure cliff, climbing routes their buddies had put up. There was no foretelling climbing was going to develop into the multimillion dollar, gym in every suburb, Olympic sport. It was you, Gary and Sally, hanging out each weekend.
Back to chipping though and lets spin things around for a minute. Rather than turning what wasn’t there, into what is. What about what was there and now isn’t. You following me? What happens when an existing natural route has a hold, break? An edge breaks off in the middle of the crux of a classic 26/7b+. There’s nothing left behind. What was once a classic and right of passage, is now gone. The steel is left hanging in the wall, a sad reminder of what was. Could you justify gluing that old edge back on? Or, could you entertain the idea of someone creating a new, replica hold where the old once hung? In not doing so, have we robbed every future generation of the experience you had? Now it’s up to someone to go up with a grinder and chop out the bolts of what was once one of the best in the land. That’s a sad day.
Yes, accepting how time and the world evolves is a part of moving through the years. Perhaps what makes something special was how fleetingly it was there and we need to come to terms with this. Acceptance is growth.
Having said that, I really don't want to live in a world where there’s no Punks in the Gym. Do you?
The ‘Birdbath’ hold on Punks in the Gym. There may not be a more famous hold in the land? No, it’s not been ‘chipped’ from nothing, just reinforcing what was once there. P Simon Madden
