One thing I’ve noticed about humans is that they love to name things. Since rock climbers are sort of human, too, they also engage in this phenomenon of giving everything a name.
It shouldn’t be a big surprise. Most recreations give their equipment, participants, locations and actions goofy, descriptive or clever names that require explanations to folks out of the loop.
One common name for a typical belay device — that piece of equipment that catches a falling climber attached to a rope — is called an ATC. ATC stands for “air traffic controller.”
Names in the newish Teddy Bear Cove climbing area near American Falls have a mostly classic rock theme. Some kooky names of climbing routes around eastern Idaho include Seeking Sleazy Squeezes, Mr. Hanky, Who Killed Kenny and Make Love Not Warcraft. Sometimes you have to climb a route because the name is so funky. Other times you may avoid it because of the name. Like the route named “Clip Me Deadly.” I climbed that route and thought I was going to fall and hurt myself trying to clip the next bolt hanger.
Last week I was climbing with my sweetheart and friends at an area called The Playground in the Blackfoot River canyon. This wall has been established for decades and has several fun routes worth climbing over and over again. (One is named Cure for the Hangover — a route that goes under a huge overhanging rock.)
While we were climbing, my friend Billy was up the canyon a few hundred yards at a wall called Boot Camp Wall. He was busy bolting a new route and adding new routes to the climbs already there. He and a friend started bolting routes on the wall when they discovered its potential a couple of years ago. They named the wall Boot Camp because Billy’s son was at the time going through military boot camp.
Bolting sport climbing routes was a new thing (and controversial) with the traditional “place-your-own-protection-as-you-climb” crowd in the United States in the mid 1980s. About that time a French climber came to eastern Oregon’s Smith Rock State Park and bolted hangers onto a nearly blank wall that was impossible to protect traditionally and showed North Americans how things were being done in Europe. The name of the route captured climbers’ imagination: To Bolt or Not To Be.
Since those days, sport climbing around the world has become the most popular form of rock climbing. To Bolt or Not to Be is still mega hard (5.14a/b) and not often repeated because the rock texture resembles an asphalt street turned vertical.
Naming rock climbing routes, similar to naming mountain bike trails or classic races, has become a thing usually done by the first ascensionist.
After Billy was done bolting his new route, he showed up at The Playground where we were climbing and asked me if I wanted an “FA?” (first ascent).
“I think it’s a pretty easy 5.8,” he said. “And you’ll get to name it.”
Up until this time, the only thing I think I’ve helped name was my children (and they’ve never forgiven me for that).
So, trusting that Billy’s bolts would hold should I happen to slip and fall (in climber lingo: “take a whipper”), I launched off on his new route. The route was a bit easier than his other routes on the Boot Camp wall.
“I thought it would go at 5.8,” he said of the difficulty rating.
“You could make a case for it being 5.7,” I said. “But 5.8 works.” There was a spot or two where you had to puzzle it out a bit.
“So what do you want to name it?” Billy asked. “It should have a military theme since it’s the Boot Camp Wall.”
I thought of my grandfather who served in World War II and him telling me of recruits getting extra “KP duty” when they were in trouble with the officers. KP stood for kitchen police and meant you would be tasked with cleaning dishes and peeling potatoes for the whole barracks.
“How about ‘Stuck on KP duty’?” I asked Billy.
He approved.
Other names at the Boot Camp Wall include: Buzz Cut, Boots, Lock n’ Load and The Reaper.
I’m not sure if the name I gave the route will inspire folks to climb it, but since it’s still new and still dirty in spots, it could use some cleaning.
Jerry Painter is a longtime East Idaho journalist and outdoorsman.
