A few years ago, while climbing at Mickey鈥檚 Beach, a coastal crag just outside San Francisco, Eliot Carlsen lost his grip and fell. He was halfway up Sex Porpoises, a popular 5.12c sport route that absorbs an almost constant salty spray from the Pacific, but he was roped up and thus left dangling 35 feet above the ground. He collected himself and started climbing an adjacent route called Squid Vicious (5.13a) back toward where he fell. Still connected to Sex Porpoises, Carlsen clipped a quick draw onto one of the Squid Vicious bolts to pull himself back up, but the moment he tugged on the rope the bolt pulled out of the rock.听
Carlsen peered down at the jagged ground below. 鈥淚f someone were to have been climbing on Squid Vicious that day or the next week, they would鈥檝e gotten hurt,鈥 Carlsen says. 鈥淭hey would鈥檝e crashed into the rocks probably. It would not have been pretty.鈥澨
Afterwards, Carlsen, a 34-year-old manager at climbing gym in San Francisco, phoned the man who first lead听the route in 1994, and who placed the bolt ten years earlier: Jim Thornburg. But he wasn鈥檛 calling to talk about its initial placement; he was calling to talk about its replacement. Thornburg, a 51-year-old photographer and lifelong Bay Area climber, has spent the past five years rebolting many of the most popular routes along the Northern California coast, at Mickey鈥檚 as well as Fisk Mill Cove and Dry Creek sea crags. The titanium and high-grade stainless-steel glue-in bolts Thornburg uses have revolutionized the rebolting process in coastal regions around the world, from the Bay Area to Greece to Thailand.
Rebolting is nothing new in climbing. A bulk of sport routes in the U.S. were put up in the late 1980s and 1990s and need maintenance from time to time. Bolts on inland climbing routes typically wear down over decades, and sometimes corrode. But routes near the ocean present a unique problem: the combination of salt and moisture accelerates deterioration of traditional stainless steel bolts. 鈥淲ith the number of years that have passed since these bolts first went in,鈥 Carlsen says, 鈥渨e鈥檙e getting to that critical juncture where they鈥檙e starting to corrode and get bad.鈥
鈥淲ith the number of years that have passed since these bolts first went in,鈥澨鼵arlsen听says, 鈥渨e鈥檙e getting to that critical juncture where they鈥檙e starting to corrode and get bad.鈥
Soon after Thornburg and others first came to realize that the original 304 grade stainless steel bolts they placed at Mickey鈥檚 Beach in the 1980s were inadequate, they replaced them with 316 grade steel in the early 1990s. (316 steel resists rust better in marine environments than听304 steel, but its lifespan听is just as unpredictable.) A handful of the new bolts failed within a decade, but what alarmed Thornburg was the fact that most showed no sign of weakness on the outside. The likely cause? Stress corrosion cracking (SCC), wherein听microscopic cracks in traditional steel wedge bolts expand due to moist, salty air infiltrating the hole in the rock. Eventually, the bolt听rots.听
After the first replacements were put in, a听friend of Thornburg鈥檚 ordered a batch of custom-made 316 grade U bolts that Thornburg听could epoxy听into the rock. Thornburg and three climbing buddies installed 50 glue-in bolts, which have now lasted 25 years without fail. Over the past five years, Thornburg and a handful of younger climbers he recruited to help鈥擲teven Roth, Casey Zak, Dave Stallard, and Conrad Frausto鈥攈ave put in ten-to-12-hour days replacing 200 additional bolts across Northern California. The process is听arduous: drill a five-inch hole in the rock; brush with a metal pipe cleaner; blow out the dust; repeat the last two steps; insert the bolt and glue it in tight.
鈥淚鈥檇 be completely destroyed at the end of those days,鈥 Thornburg says. 鈥淢y least favorite part was the smell. I鈥檓 a Berkeley healthfood nut, so dealing with that toxic glue all day was terrible.鈥
Thornburg funded much of the recent rebolting work himself, but the unique challenges presented by coastal corrosion worldwide have more financial support than ever. In Greece, where Kalymnos island鈥檚 2,700 bolted routes attract some 10,000 climbers each year, 52-year-old Aris Theodoropoulos is leading an effort to rebolt ten percent of the routes, or roughly 3,000 bolts. The European Union recently earmarked 150,000 Euros to pay for the bolts, thus protecting the country鈥檚 tourism interests. Theodoropoulos, a guidebook author who paid for early rebolting efforts with money he made from book sales, was only able to use about 50,000 of the EU鈥檚 allotted Euros due to bureaucracy costs, he says, but the benefit remains: 鈥淭hey鈥檙e helping us to have safer crags.鈥
In Thailand, which uses more glue-in titanium bolts for rebolting than anywhere in the world, the (ASCA) supplies bolts for a local organization called the Thaitanium Project to install. (Titanium is virtually immune to the corrosive effects of sea air and saltwater, both in general and in crevices, but is much more expensive.) ASCA director Greg Barnes estimates his organization has sent more than 3,000 bolts to Thailand over the years, as well as contributed roughly 110 steel and titanium bolts, plus glue, to the Northern California rebolting effort.
Regardless of what kind of metal is used, epoxy remains the key ingredient, transforming coastal crags from mine fields back to trustworthy sites. 鈥淚 would never put a bolt near the ocean that wasn鈥檛 a glue-in bolt again,鈥 Thornburg says.