Inhabitants of the backwoods of New England are well known for their staunch libertarian streak. Tucked among the wrinkled countryside of hills and lakes one finds hippie farmers practicing subsistence farming, redneck locals out for late evening beer-and-rally sessions, and well-to-do gentry from Massachusetts constructing their dream habitations. The glue that holds our communities together rests on a single guiding principle of government: don’t tell other people what to do.
One day last spring it was discovered that several anchor stations at Cathedral Ledge’s popular north end practice slabs had been removed. Furthermore, the party responsible had left behind an unsightly mess of bent studs and battered hangers. The rock surrounding this carnage was chipped from visible hammer blows, and – most alarmingly – a two word warning was scrapped into the rock at the base of the crag, just to the right of the start of Henry Barber’s famed route Recluse: “NO BOLTS”. An immediate reprisal was mounted by several local guides, who re-installed the bolts within twenty-four hours of their violent departure. These new fixtures were promptly bludgeoned as well.
North Conway’s climbing community has always enjoyed a feisty ethical discourse. Bolts are periodically added and removed from the cliff. When the action gets too hot, disputes are settled in the true New England tradition with a town meeting. But say what you will about chopping bolts, there seemed to be little rationale for doing such a bad job of it. Past choppers have been good enough neighbors to fully remove the hanger and stud, taking care not to damage the surrounding rock. A few pebbles and a speck of glue later, and the hole was never there. But this was different. This was a crime of passion. And an inability to understand the other side of the argument often leads to a more violent reaction against it.
A likely perpetrator, well known on the local coffee shop circuit, was identified. Indeed, this individual readily implicated himself in a string of self-damaging and baffling posts on an area internet site. Tensions mounted. A few leftist firebrands suggested a second wave of retaliation bolting, several conservative commentators called for this to be the start of a general cliff-wide cleansing of retro-bolts. Most sensible-minded folk merely rolled their eyes and waited for cooler heads to prevail. Perhaps we just all needed to sit down and work this one out. Regretfully, there was no attempt at holding a local forum, nor was there any attempt to open a dialogue with the perpetrator.
A small group of offended locals did take action, however, and the incident was quietly brought to the attention of State authorities. A case was built, and by summer’s end, misdemeanor charges were filed against the perp for committing acts of “vandalism” within a state park. In an interesting twist, these developments were kept quiet from the general community. The majority of climbers in the Mount Washington Valley never knew that their local climbing ethic was about to be decided by a county judge down in Ossipee. The defendant waited quietly for his date with justice, and when it came, the swift arm of the law delivered a 360 dollar fine upon him.
And suddenly the vandal enjoyed a stunning change of fortune. Word finally got out, almost overnight. His status in the local community went from amateur hack to celebrated martyr. A collection was taken up. Those who had been against the bolts contributed. Those who had been in favor of replacing the bolts contributed. All sides were suddenly united in their belief in the right to self-government. 17 individuals committed twenty dollars each, reducing the vandal’s loss to an equal twenty dollar share. Local consensus may tolerate the odd bolt chopping, but it certainly does not abide the odd tattle tail.
It’s early January now as I write this, and I’m still not sure exactly what kind of statement the vandal was trying to make by chopping those bolts, nor do I know if anyone’s bothered to replace them yet. Nor do I really care. It’s ice climbing season now, and hey, live free or die.
Originally published in Alpinist Magazine.
This entry was posted
on Wednesday, May 6th, 2009 at 10:57 am and is filed under Commentary.
You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed.
The Politics of Chopping
Inhabitants of the backwoods of New England are well known for their staunch libertarian streak. Tucked among the wrinkled countryside of hills and lakes one finds hippie farmers practicing subsistence farming, redneck locals out for late evening beer-and-rally sessions, and well-to-do gentry from Massachusetts constructing their dream habitations. The glue that holds our communities together rests on a single guiding principle of government: don’t tell other people what to do.
One day last spring it was discovered that several anchor stations at Cathedral Ledge’s popular north end practice slabs had been removed. Furthermore, the party responsible had left behind an unsightly mess of bent studs and battered hangers. The rock surrounding this carnage was chipped from visible hammer blows, and – most alarmingly – a two word warning was scrapped into the rock at the base of the crag, just to the right of the start of Henry Barber’s famed route Recluse: “NO BOLTS”. An immediate reprisal was mounted by several local guides, who re-installed the bolts within twenty-four hours of their violent departure. These new fixtures were promptly bludgeoned as well.
North Conway’s climbing community has always enjoyed a feisty ethical discourse. Bolts are periodically added and removed from the cliff. When the action gets too hot, disputes are settled in the true New England tradition with a town meeting. But say what you will about chopping bolts, there seemed to be little rationale for doing such a bad job of it. Past choppers have been good enough neighbors to fully remove the hanger and stud, taking care not to damage the surrounding rock. A few pebbles and a speck of glue later, and the hole was never there. But this was different. This was a crime of passion. And an inability to understand the other side of the argument often leads to a more violent reaction against it.
A likely perpetrator, well known on the local coffee shop circuit, was identified. Indeed, this individual readily implicated himself in a string of self-damaging and baffling posts on an area internet site. Tensions mounted. A few leftist firebrands suggested a second wave of retaliation bolting, several conservative commentators called for this to be the start of a general cliff-wide cleansing of retro-bolts. Most sensible-minded folk merely rolled their eyes and waited for cooler heads to prevail. Perhaps we just all needed to sit down and work this one out. Regretfully, there was no attempt at holding a local forum, nor was there any attempt to open a dialogue with the perpetrator.
A small group of offended locals did take action, however, and the incident was quietly brought to the attention of State authorities. A case was built, and by summer’s end, misdemeanor charges were filed against the perp for committing acts of “vandalism” within a state park. In an interesting twist, these developments were kept quiet from the general community. The majority of climbers in the Mount Washington Valley never knew that their local climbing ethic was about to be decided by a county judge down in Ossipee. The defendant waited quietly for his date with justice, and when it came, the swift arm of the law delivered a 360 dollar fine upon him.
And suddenly the vandal enjoyed a stunning change of fortune. Word finally got out, almost overnight. His status in the local community went from amateur hack to celebrated martyr. A collection was taken up. Those who had been against the bolts contributed. Those who had been in favor of replacing the bolts contributed. All sides were suddenly united in their belief in the right to self-government. 17 individuals committed twenty dollars each, reducing the vandal’s loss to an equal twenty dollar share. Local consensus may tolerate the odd bolt chopping, but it certainly does not abide the odd tattle tail.
It’s early January now as I write this, and I’m still not sure exactly what kind of statement the vandal was trying to make by chopping those bolts, nor do I know if anyone’s bothered to replace them yet. Nor do I really care. It’s ice climbing season now, and hey, live free or die.
Originally published in Alpinist Magazine.