The climbing world, like any subculture, operates with a unique vocabulary, and it’s important that prospective climbers gain a firm grasp of this language before they embarrass themselves (or worse) at the crag. Words like “pitch,” “draw,” and “deck,” after all, will conjure up entirely different images at Camp 4 than they will in an architecture class. Of course, the aforementioned terms at least have some sort of meaning to the population at large; the aspiring climber will eventually have to distinguish between a number of otherwise incomprehensible labels (the Seussian pink point, red point, head point, and dead point come quickly to mind).
Jason enjoys leashless freedom on Genesis II -- Hyalite Canyon
The climber’s apprenticeship period will cover such subjects as Mallory’s highest position and the benefits of swinging leads, and advanced pupils might be able to show you which finger, hand, or fist size corresponds to which color of their preferred cams. Finally, once fluency is achieved, the enterprising youngster will be marked as a real member of the climbing community, free to enter into age-old debates about bolt-chopping and hold-chipping, the merits of the multi-pitch GriGri, and whether or not “crusty old sport climber” is, itself, a contradiction in terms.
Now, the point of this little sociology lesson is to introduce the expression that has defined my first month of climbing in Montana: sandbag.
A sandbag is, basically, when a climb is misrepresented to appear easier than it really is. For instance, imagine a route that most climbers of a similar ability would rate at 5.10. If the guidebook lists this route at 5.8, the climb is considered a sandbag. The term works in all sorts of scenarios.
Let’s say you’ve been dating someone for a few weeks, and she decides it’s time for you to meet her parents. If you show up to the Golden Corral and her mom and dad are surrounded by fifteen other relatives, you have just been sandbagged.
Remember that time your buddy called you to meet him at the bar, and your $10 cover bought you three hours deflecting abuse from his date’s friend while he and some cutie played kissy-face to the five-part harmony of the local *NSync tribute band? Dude owes you big for that total sandbag move.
If you’re a TV aficionado, check out “Intervention,” “Disaster Date,” or any show involving Chris Hansen. It’s a pretty safe bet that somebody will have been sandbagged by the end of the episode.
I've got that post-sandbag glow -- Lumpy Ridge, CO '08
Anyway, problems arise when climbers jump on routes that, according to the grade, appear to be at or below their lead level and discover, mid-pitch or post-fall, that they’ve gotten in over their heads. I can tell you from experience that this is an unfortunate circumstance. More than once, I’ve found myself paralyzed twenty feet above a questionable Tricam thinking, “5.9? Really?” Not good times.
You might be wondering to yourself, “but Justin, if enough people feel a route is harder than its listed grade, won’t they change it in subsequent guidebook editions?” That’s a great question, and it does happen from time to time. You’ll find, however, that locals become quite proud of the sandbag reputation; since guidebook authors are almost invariably devoted locals, those sandbagged grades are unlikely to change. It becomes a badge of honor for the regulars when out-of-towners come traveling to their local crag and get shut down on grades they’re used to cruising back home. The Bozeman rock guidebook, for instance, dedicates a full three pages to its status as a sandbagged area, and there seems to be no active effort to rectify the situation. The author simply advises that you become aware of the questionable grades and deal with them as they come.
Duly noted, I guess.
Rapping off of "Crypt Orchid" -- Hyalite Canyon
Highlights from this past week…
Got in three days at Hyalite. Most climbs are still forming up, which is frustrating but exciting. Hiked way back into the canyon for two rope-length 3+ – 4- routes in the Twin Falls area – hard, chippy ice down low gave way to perfect plastic sticks from the middle third to the top; I’ll be heading back there soon.
Other than that, the days were mostly recon missions with some short, easy sections of climbing. Jason has mentioned going back to the Sphinx; I could be convinced(?). It would be nice to find my ‘pons, but I keep remembering the old adage about history repeating itself. We’ll see.
In other news, Michelle got the Rock Band country track pack for the Wii, and I promptly served up a 96% singing “The Gambler” on medium (Serious Skills award — count it). It reminded me that I haven’t introduced myself to the Bozeman karaoke scene yet, so look forward to the first of those posts coming soon.
That’s about it here. Hope you enjoyed the climbing lingo lesson, and I’ll see you next week.
