Wall Street aka Potash Road.

Although *Kyle Copeland, the main instigator and driving force behind developing Wall Street, is a friend of the family and a climber whom we regard with the utmost respect, we still have his crag at the top of the list.

Moab, Utah.
Adventure capital of the intermountain west. Discovered, revered, exploited and abused. This dusty trailer town acts as a magnet to the cool, the enlightened, the honed and the clueless. Every branch of recreation that's hip is represented here.
Multiplicities of possibilities as the late Bill Turk often exclaimed in furor.

The possibility that lacked, however, in the late eighties was accesible, abundant face and crack climbing that didn't require a hula skirt of cams all the same size. Enter the ever keen Kyle and that stretch of river road leading to the busy potash mine. The Navajo sandstone here was steep, featured, reasonably bedded, and had basically zero approach.

Every route Kyle and friends did here was put up in impeccable style, cleaned and, if needed, bolted on lead, yet the protection is adequate on most lines. After a couple of dozen routes were ascended a humble set of photo copies was displayed on the counter at Rim Cyclery. You can only imagine what happened next.

The floodgates opened. Within weeks there were more weekend warriors at the Potash Road than idle mountain bikes on Main Street. Nobody seem to notice that except for a few notable exceptions the routes weren't that great, nor very durable.

Navajo is not Wingate. It's dusty, weak and inadequately varnished. It doesn't hold up well to overuse. The face climbs, with their initial sharp edges turned into a sea of insecure slopers covered in sand. Cracks fared only a little better, but there aren't that many here. What you got was the convenience of cragging with the worst of classic desert climbing: Sand pouring out of the cracks, crumbling rock, questionable pro, insecure holds. This is the name of the game in the south west, but here it is practised without the essential ingredients of solitude, adventure and commitment that makes the experience complete and enjoyable.

Add to this the mining trucks, barreling down the road every minute at 60+ mph, literally a few feet from the walls.

***

*Tragically, Kyle has been stricken with Crone's Disease, a debilitating illness that has kept him from the rocks for almost a decade. Please send some good energy his way.

Owens River Gorge

Climbing here one blustery March day in 2001 was the catalyst that prompted us to sell our cosy house and leave job, friends and Bishop behind, in search of better climbing.

A place that can force one to such radical actions must be worthy of the title Worst Crag # 2. Again, just like Wall Street, the crowds don't appear to agree with us. It almost seems blasphemic to talk negatively about something so popular as the ORG.

Off course it could have something to do with the fact that 99% of the climbs in the Gorge are in the genre of sport climbing, an activity we occasionally partake in, but that never really motivate us much. However, that's not the whole story. Some of the bolts-only areas can actually be a fine experience for a dedicated trad climber. Gorge du Verdon is one. Here you got awesome scenery, tons of exposure and a somewhat interesting history. Not bad. Have spend many memorable weeks clipping bolts in Verdon.

And then you have the Generic Sport Crag. The worst of the species. Where you will find too many routes with too little character. Southern France in particular is littered with them. Grey limestone, grid bolted by hired hands so the little village at the base can get some revenue from visiting climbers. Boring, similar looking climbs from which you don't remember a single move a day later.

The ORG has become a Generic Sport Crag. The good and awesome lines are crowded in by hundreds of meaningless routes on every expanse of rock over 40'. Quantity over quality is always the rule at the Generic Sport Crag. Why hike 15 min to do one outstanding classic when there's 8 faceless, bland routes right here?

Owens is a grey place. There's acres of grey volcanic rock, framed in by dusty, grey gullies and scree slopes. Here and there are derelict grey buildings left over by the Los Angeles Department of Water and Power, who still owns all the land. The lack of color is quite noticeable, even when the cottonwoods lining the reservoir fed river leaf out in the spring. It gives it an industrial feel, a business like place where you go to get things done, in an orderly and effective way. All the neatly bolted routes on uniform rock aids in this perception.

And so does the ORG Hand Hold. This 2-4 finger horisontal incut is an Owens trademark. This is how you ascend these walls. Its everywhere and it's all there is. Learn how to use it and you can climb any route of your grade. Try that at JT. Just because you flashed Solid Gold's dime edges, doesn't mean the commiting moves on North Overhang will be a cruiser. Or vice versa.

When they first started climbing here, the Los Angeles DWP had other plans for the water so the river didn't even flow. Imagine that.