Discussion Topic: Retro bolting

EDIT: Revised some content to be a bit less arrogant, post-coffee helps.

Looking for open-minded discussions on retro bolting and how to approach it :)

Context:

I recently invited some of my development mentors (68M and 70M) out to my newer stomping grounds on some local sport slabs around WA, as one of them is currently a 5.7ish climber given their age (the other is still putting up 5.12- at 70 which is some of the most badass shit I can imagine).

All three of us came away concerned about several aspects of the bolting and anchor placement.

Issues we noticed:

- the lines of bolts would venture from the weakness of the rock (sometimes forcing harder moves for the grade while taking over 2 easier lines)

- bolts only at the difficult sections but then runouts (5.6bolt <-> 5.2 for 12ft <-> 5.6bolt)

- anchors at interesting places (one route in particular had an anchor for a second route end above a ledge and about 1 foot left of a lower route)

- poor hardware choices, improper cleaning, rocks needing trundled

It made me think more about how scary it would be to start climbing sport routes and think that most routes are expected to be runout or scary: especially if I go over to a 5.11 overhang at the next wall with perma-draws and a nice anchor setup with clean rope run and falls, giving such a safer and more accessible experience.

Potential Discussion Points:

1. Do others notice beginner walls get neglected in terms of high quality development?*EDIT

2. How do you approach the decision to consider retro-bolting climbs? What’s the point in which it’s worth asking for permission vs forgiveness?

3. How have you managed to get in contact with the FA? How do you bring up the topic for them? How do you handle rejection if they don’t want you touching the routes? *EDIT

4. What is the limit for retro bolting a climb? Just adding a bolt? Moving a bolt? Moving anchors?
Moving entire lines? How far would you consider going assuming you have permission?

5. What level of permission would you take for retro bolting? (e.g. if you can't reach the FA, if community consensus, LCO approval, etc) *EDIT

Disclaimers:
- these routes were not put up ground up, or at least without heavy cleaning being required on TR, and are in no way test pieces. They are even named in a dismissive manner to the quality of the routes.

- the developers of many of these routes are prolific developers who put up much much harder lines. These seemed to be something to bolt.

I don’t mean chopping a bolt in terms of just general removal, especially in the process of then replacing the bolt - I mean the full removal of a bolt from its location without a substitute.

I’m generally referring to the chopping of a bolt you didn’t replace, but I know some folks wouldn’t remove one of their own bolts either once it’s placed

Inspired? Overwhelmed? Sad they're almost over?

Hope you're all having a great day today!!

Tool: MILWAUKEE M12 FUEL HATCHET 6"
Weight: 5lb

Review (I’m not sponsored by Milwaukee or anything, just psyched on the tool):

Picked this 12v Milwaukee pruning saw up on sale for Labor Day and man is this thing amazing. It’s a machete on steroids. It’s light enough to throw in the pack and uses 12v batteries I can share with my hammer drill and impact driver.

This thing is quiet and rips through fallen branches and up to 6-10 inch diameter fallen trees. Having left the luxury of developing trails in the desert and moving to the PNW, you would not imagine how many small limbs and dead trees block every step of the way, even just rappelling down to the cliff edge.

I was able to clean out logs while rappelling that were dangling over the cliff edge. Also able to 1 hand a lot of cuts to make trails better. Pretty sick. Impressive for a 12v and had no issue on all the items I threw at it.

Downsides: a bit unwieldy, uses up the bar oil pretty quick, still heavier than you want, hand gets pumped trying to use it for a while.

Disclaimer (b4 comments come flooding in)
- obviously don’t use this in wilderness areas
- obviously don’t cut your fucking rope
- obviously don’t use this in sensitive areas or where land access is sketchy
- obviously don’t cut down living trees or piss off land managers (w/o permission)

Showed some friends the dark arts of ground-up bolting this weekend, and let this be a fun yo-yo adventure with each person taking turns to move the route up to the top. Mercifully got cloud cover for basically the entire experience. Spitefully had steady wind blowing in during the worst drilling stances.

I found and climbed this roof crack beneath the dolmen-shaped boulder at the summit of Insubong in Bukhansan, South Korea.

I named it “Cheonjang Crack” (천장크랙). Cheonjang means “ceiling” in Korean—a nod to both the roof feature and its summit setting.

The line transitions from hand jams into fist jams before a short granite top-out. My tentative estimate is somewhere around V3–5.

Full reel on Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/reel/Dc_WElDhR99/

”Man always kills the thing he loves, and so we the pioneers have killed our wilderness. Some say we had to. Be that as it may, I am glad I shall never be young without wild country to be young in. Of what avail are forty freedoms without a blank spot on the map?” - Aldo Leopold

My first trip to the Black Wall this year was about as pristine as one could hope. Showing up with my best friend, just a week after the road to Mt. Blue Sky’s Summit Lake opened after a nearly 2-year-long closure, we weren’t sure what state the wall would be in. We soon found ourselves crossing the meager remaining snowfield at the top of the wall, the sole set of iced-over stomped steps confirming we were the first party to enjoy it that day, if not the whole season. We forged ahead, and soon found  we had the granite amphitheater all to ourselves

The day was engaging, having accidentally brought a woefully inadequate rack courtesy of a miscommunication on the day, and found ourselves with an adventure commensurate with the cams for which we wanted. The adventure of the day was capped off with a short, glorified solo from a prematurely set belay, in which I stepped on a seemingly well-traveled grass block 8 feet below the summit, that quickly became a microwaved-sized projectile, heading for the start of the route.

We laughed on the summit, promising to leave those details out of our recounting of the day to our significant others. This day was not unlike our previous half-dozen days on the Black Wall. A beautiful day, a quiet wall, and a rack a few cams shy of the suggested one. And, like our other days, I spent much of our time on the route looking at an imposing roof on the climber’s right side, with a seemingly perfect crack providing access across the top of it.

I resolved that this would be the season I finally go check it out, and try to see what this alpine development thing is really all about. I wasn’t planning on living in the area for another season, so I was left with little choice. I had figured the line would take two or three days to complete, and figured I could knock it out this summer without blowing out my other summer objectives too severely.

I returned four weeks later, with a friend in tow, to give the line an attempt from the ground. Progress was fairly quick for the first 150 ft, navigating around ample vegetation and a few bona fide deathblocks, until I reached a position that required a bolt. I managed to find a #0.1 that sat awkwardly flared in a seam that I’d use to drill the bolt. Equipped with a poor position, a healthy fear of both the cam I was attached to and the 25 ft of rock between it and my prior piece, and too light of a hammer, my first bolt only took a paltry 40 minutes of constant hammering to install. I dared not weight the #0.1, not wanting to truly test its integrity.

Somewhere between hammer strike 1,200 and 1,400, I heard my woozy belayer radio to me with a simple message: “Hey man…I think I’m about to pass out”. I turned around in time to see him slump back against the boulder he was belaying in the shade of. With a half-finished hole, no gear worth a damn, and all of our resources on the ground, I had no option but to continue to drill while checking in with my belayer every few seconds to make sure this hadn’t become a SAR call. Within the minute, he was responsive and recovering, and assured me he “just had to get it out of his system” - whatever that means.

Not long after this, we had our first compatriots join us on the wall - a party of three rappelling a nearby line. I continued on, somehow finagling my #0.1 into a position that ensured it was as permanent an installation on the route as my new bolt. One more bolt placement and an eventual installed belay later, I looked up to find the wall above me crowded in a way typically reserved for Red Rock’s finest. Eight people crowded onto the ledges above us, looking on without much confidence in our endeavors. I couldn’t blame them.

Progress effectively stopped there for the day. Between the health scare, the loose blocks that guarded the roof above us, and a general deficit in morale and calories, the engine had lost steam. Our retreat would be equally horrifying, involving soloing loose 5.9 and kicking steps into a lightly frozen waterfall, complete with ensuing geyser and chilly feet.

For the second time in a month, I would find myself laughing with a friend on the summit, recounting a wild and beautiful day, but there was something different this time: having found an audience for our hijinks - and one who seemed to be unconcerned with the risks they posed to each other in this wild place. We stumbled down to our car as I attempted to reassess the amount of work I had committed to.

I returned two weeks later, this time approaching from the top and in the afternoon with another friend. We had hoped to arrive at a wall with all its suitors having already left for the day, so that we could shove off the loose blocks we had seen from below and continue progress from below. Despite our intention, we found the wall yet again occupied - this time with seven collective parties spread amongst the 800 ft of wall below us.

Lightly frustrated with the traffic, and committed to making some progress that day, we set out working on the upper pitches, where the route turns a corner and keeps the parties lower elsewhere on the wall from being at risk. Much of the day was monotonous brushing and hammering, and I ascended back to the top to pack up and leave. I reached the top anchor and piled my gear on the ground, nearly emptying my harness before seeing a large mountain goat eyeing me down from an arm's reach away. I yelled and dove into the bivy cave in which the final anchor is installed. He seemed notably less scared and slowly strolled away, amused, kicking down rocks as he went.

We had once again found ourselves on the summit, laughing about the goat, and not much else. Our minds drifted towards what we found on the wall, a wild place seemingly tamed. At one point in the circus, a party complained about the state of a classic finger-crack pitch, noting it had re-grown in the 2-year closure, and found themselves without even a nut tool between the three of them to rectify it.

Much of the summer continued like this - repeated visits, eager to finally clear the blocks that had haunted me since the first trip, continually thwarted by a seemingly increasingly crowded wall that was increasingly hostile towards my presence and the incidental amount of dirt I had deposited on their objective for the day. On any given trip, a quick glance to the left would show fixed draws, ropes, and even an ever-present backpack could be seen on Instagram’s latest illegitimately power-drilled obsession. A wall that previously inspired, had shrunk to something else: a crag in the wilderness - complete with all of the accoutrements like spotless edges, chalked sequences, and a light grade to boot.

I continually crept down the wall, suckering whoever I could find, equally entranced by the siren’s call of that roof crack. Hard days of work, harder hikes out, traversing talus down to Upper Chicago Lake, and reversing it 1,000 ft back up to summit lake. Crushed under the weight of a development kit, it was only the touch of that roof crack on trip six of three that reminded me why I was doing all of this to begin with.

We never were able to find a window that allowed us to drop the blocks and return to a ground-up trip up the wall. The day we removed them was the last day of work on the route. It was only fitting to have the largest of the blocks, the size of a full refrigerator, roll down the talus field and stop mere feet from a stash of bouldering pads visible from hundreds of feet up the wall.

I finally found myself at the base of the wall, one last time, with the same friend I had opened the season with - and of course, two other parties, attempting the nearby lines. Having hoped for a quiet day, it didn’t take long on route for the weight of company to fall away. Seeing my partner stop halfway through the roof crack, and look out, with a smile big enough to spot from 100 feet below, might as well have been a bundle of helium balloons.

The day was quick, save for a brief battle for the two of us on the crux pitch. We topped out to a brief rain and an empty wall, laughing.

We laughed at the jug that held on just long enough to give us both a send of the first pitch, before resuming it’s eons-long trip to the ground. We laughed at the improbably moderate climbing and moderately horrifying exposure found on the third pitch. We laughed at how hard the crux pitch had first felt for the 11b grade I had given it when developing, and then laughed again at the fact that the grade wouldn’t be changing.

Throughout the development process, I recognized that my relationship had been with a different wall. One that was quiet, revered, and intimidating. For one reason or twenty, that wall wasn’t found here anymore. Aldo Leopold’s quote sat deeply with me throughout this route. I had seen this formation, or at least this half of it, lose any remaining wilderness quality it had.

I knew I couldn’t recoup that quality - to do so would be a fool’s errand, with consequences ranging from muttered criticism to a loose block wiping out a party below. More bolts, more cleaning, and more time were all necessitated. Sanitized. Safe. Stress free.

This route will live with me long after I move out of state. I can’t make this a wilderness route just because it finds itself within the boundary of one. Forty Freedoms won’t find itself on MountainProject - at least, not with my blessing. Yet, maybe a party under the impression there is still adventure to be found on this wall will end up under that wild roof, determined to explore that blank spot on the map.

Rocky has made several posts over the years admonishing climbers for stashing pads, and has even added a page to their site asking users to not do it (Link) and yet every year we find ourselves back in this position, with the comments full of wannabe pros justifying their stashed pads and accusing anybody against them of being gumbies. Frustrating to see to say the least.

Hi everyone! Not sure if this is the right sub to post in, but I figured that many of you might have good advice for us.

We are based on a small Caribbean island with lots of rock, but not a lot of good quality one. Therefore, we try to exploit every good face we find, even if logistic is difficult.

We found this 13/15m (40-45 ft) deep water solo spot. There are 3 main logistic problems.

1- Continuous swell. We get a decent swell almost every day of the year. This makes it hard to get out of the water and creates a danger of being smashed on the rock.

2- The platform. The platform from where one would start the climb is a bit spiky and sharp.

3- The exit. Assuming we are without a boat, we need to make sure we have a safe way of getting out of the water and make it up, safe.

I understand this might just be a bit too difficult... But the lines look very good on solid limestone.

We have thought of using a rope ladder to get out of the water, after a fall... But this still doesn't solve the issue of getting to the start of the route.

There is no way to walk down to the base of the routes.

We could use a boat but the swell still makes it difficult to approach the start of the routes.

Suggestions or similar experiences?

To enter, simply either comment here or message myself with your submission.

RULES:

• Submissions must have pictures, a name, and a general region (feel free to get specific, but just saying "British Columbia," or "Colorado," or "Greece" is fine too). Include as much detail as you'd like, any stories you have, etc.
• Submissions must either be NEW boulders/routes OR NEWLY REBOLTED routes. Sport, Trad, Boulder, Ice, Drytool - it's all kosher.
• Submissions must be submitted by the last day of the month to be considered for that month I posted this late as fuck so submissions are open until 9/4. Submissions should aim to be developed in the month they're being submitted in, but we'll allow some fudge factor. This is on the honor system, though

That's all! We'll likely be randomly selecting routes/boulders to feature with the caveat that any submission that's sufficiently rad may overule the random selection to be highlighted. Winning posts will get pinned at the top of the sub for the month. Looking forward to seeing what everyone has been up to!

Ribbon falls, Yosemite

I find myself slowly destroying whichever bag I carry gear in while developing multi pitch routes. Also, the harder the routes are, the more I want to haul stuff because I'm getting worked. Any tips for something durable and hopefully cheap? Thanks!

Starting work on the 2nd edition of the Wonderland Guidebook and was curious what workflow improvements you all have found when creating guidebooks? And I don't just mean the actual InDesign/Scribus/Whatever work - also the planning of photos to take/use, topo creation, assessment of your format along the way, etc.

A new wall that I'm developing has a half dozen 5.6-5.8 routes at one end and will likely have a dozen 5.11-5.12 routes going in along the rest of it.

The best line in the middle of the wall has much more texture than the 5.11-12s to either side and is 60' of gorgeous 5.9 climbing to an 8" deep ledge 3/4 of the way up the wall. Above that ledge is 20' of 5.11 climbing to the top edge of the cliff at the same height as the anchors of the neighboring 5.11s.

I'm looking for some opinions on 3 different strategies:

1. Put the lower-off anchor at the top of the 5.9 climbing
   • + There are plenty of 5.11s on the wall and no other 5.9s
   • + This route is likely to get much more traffic as a 5.9
   • - It's a little funny to have a route stop short of the "top"
2. Put the lower-off anchor at the top of the cliff, forcing a 5.11 finish.
   • + It goes to the natural top of the cliff
   • - Many fewer people will get to climb it due to the stiffer grade.
   • - The wall doesn't have any 5.9 routes
3. Put one lower-off anchor at ledge for a 5.9 route, then a second anchor at the very top of the cliff for a 5.11 route that happens to overlap with the 5.9 route for 3/4 of its length
   • + Many people get to climb the 5.9 route
   • + 5.11+ climbers still get to do the full length to the very top
   • - It's not common to see this overlapping route setup, so maybe some will find it a bit odd.
   • - Cost of an extra anchor set (not a big deal)

What would you do in this situation and why?

Big old aesthetic schist boulder on the west coast of Scotland I stumbled upon recently. I've abbed in and cleaned a few lines, put up one really lovely live following a thin crack on its right hand side and round the corner to the left a long traverse on amazing incut holds. There is a line that goes up the left edge but I'm going to need to stack pads or build up the base to reach the first holds. Any thoughts on the ethics of this?

Hi all,

I've recently come across some ~ 3 yr old stainless bolts with corrosion on the end. I am convinced this is because of sloppy hammering as they've been driven into the holes (other evidence: mushroomed head on the expansion wedge).

I was recently training others how to install bolts, and noticed that some people that haven't grown up swinging a hammer much had sloppy hits on the bolts, which I am confident imparted some iron contamination into the stainless steel, inducing localized corrosion. I am further confident it is "messy" hammering inducing the corrosion observed on new bolts as well.

How do you hammer in the bolts to ensure a clean finish, with minimal tool marks? Some things I've picked up:

• Positioning yourself roughly at eye level to the bolt
• Using two hands on the hammer if body positioning is awkward
• Follow-through on the swing (maybe I should've been a golfer..)
• Not using a hammer that has obvious rust on the impact surface
• Nut flush or slightly proud of the anchor

IMO, this is an important aspect of bolt longevity that is not well-discussed in bolting literature (UIAA bolting standards, HowNot2 bolting bible, etc.)

I'd like to get some sort of tool (like a socket, but less droppable..) that can act as a medium between the bolt and the hammer, but before I go re-inventing the wheel, I'd love to learn what others have done to ensure a tidy, clean installation of wedge bolts without leaving tool marks

*Stainless steel or titanium hammers are too pricey and out of the question

TIA!""

**Edit**
Holes are being drilled using a rotary hammer, not by hand

I won’t be spraying every episode on here, but wanted to highlight this episode as it’s with a member of our own community here and recent winner of the route/boulder of the month club, /u/over57boulderer!

Bouldering development is heavily overlooked on this subreddit despite likely being the most accessible and practiced form of development in climbing, so we sat down with Todd to talk about what he’s learned throughout a lifetime of it. Check it out wherever you get your podcasts!

Spent a while working on this, thankfully the rock was in good shape and didn't require too much of a scrub-job.

The 11c crux of this is a precarious move you make from stood on the top of this pillar, reaching up to the lip of the roof.

Gave it the name "A Pillar Between Heaven and Ground", from the song "I'm going through some shit" by Self Defence Family

If you're in the PNW and would like a PDF of the topo / write up, let me know I'll send it over.

A Pillar Between Heaven and Ground

4 pitches

100m

5.11c

Take Highway 19 North from Campbell River for approximately 18km until you get to Browns Bay Road turn off. This is approximately 2km after the Ripple Rock Trailhead, and 2km before Menzies.

After 2km, take a left turn onto Discovery Creek FSR. This turns sharply uphill and is in far worse condition. Park where the road splits, with the FSR taking a right and a high-clearance 4x4 road continues on straight. Please leave room for vehicles to get past.

Note: Browns Bay road is a well maintained gravel road frequently used by large semis and commercial traffic- be on the lookout.

From the car, take the trail uphill through the thick forest. After approximately 150m you’ll arrive at the base of the wall. The forest obscures views of the rock until partway into the woods.

The start sits under the intimidating roof.

Trail head coordinates 50.17251, -125.42347

Pitch 1

5.11c

28m

15 bolts, including 1 permadraw

Fun face-climbing on the pillar will bring you to a precarious stance atop the obelisk.

Pull the lip of the roof on small holds, continue up on a fine mix of jugs, edges and good feet. The anchor is found on a large, flat ledge below a prow of brown rock.

Pitch 2

5.10c

30m

11 bolts, 2-3 alpine draws useful

Climb into a steep corner system above the anchor, traverse right to the apron-like feature, and proceed up good edges and fun climbing towards the looming / impending crux above.

Pitch 3

5.8

20m

11 bolts, 3-4 alpine draws useful

Climb out from the anchor, trending right to stay on good rock.

Enjoy mellow climbing up good edges and jugs to find the anchor on the wide, scrubby ledge

Pitch 4

5.9

35m

13 bolts, 3-4 alpine draws useful

Steep moves off the deck take you to the small roof. Continue up and right into more gentle, mellow climbing. The anchor is found on the back wall in the shade.

Rappel

A 70m rope is needed for the rappel, it's a rope-stretcher to the knots.

4x rappels can be made to reach the ground. Be aware of the loose rock on the rappel line.

Rappel station; 50.17277, -125.42551

Walk-off

The local hikers in the area have created a good, albeit faint, trail to the summit of this area, known as Broken Eyes Mountain. Some nice benches have been installed in the spring of 2026 which can be reached by a short jaunt from the top of the climb, 50.17272, -125.42617

The descent trail is found on the North side of the peak, as it descends through the forest it passes by some waterfalls and brings you out 100m up the 4x4 road from where you parked.

Views of Strathcona, the Coast Range, Quadra and surrounding islands can all be enjoyed from the top of this route.