climbing gym – Aaron Gerry

From Helsinki to Mexico City: A Long Way to Open a Climbing Gym

Helsinki is 6,125 miles from Mexico City. Yet for Finnish climbers, Ben Koponen and Juha Kurikka, it wasn’t too far to open their dream gym.

Even if Ben had never been to the country before.

They arrived in Mexico City in the summer of 2017, not really knowing what to expect.

From Roots in Finland

Ben likes emerging climbing communities, apparently.

He grew up in Finland during the rapid rise of the sport in the early 2000s, learning on the hard granite of Nummi, just outside of Helsinki, at Falkberget, and farther afield. Finland won’t be mistaken for cliff-laden destinations like France or Spain—most of the country tops out under 656′ tall—but that hasn’t stopped locals from seeking out the best of what’s around. Or from becoming some of the top in the world, like Nalle Hukkataival, one of the strongest boulderers today.

Bouldering exploded onto the scene with the discovery of Vaasa in 2000. The boreal forests which cover roughly 75% of the land, offer enchanting solitude and barely touched bouldering potential. This is the environment that Ben grew up in: The thrill of finding undiscovered places, the dedication to develop something new, and the ruggedness to endure long winters (though I’m told the climbing season makes the wait worth it).

Perhaps there’s something about the eagerness to get outdoors post-hibernation that’s blossomed a strong climbing culture. Ben estimates there’s about 120,000 in the country whose total population is one-quarter the size of Mexico City.

(If you’re interested, you can watch the documentary, “Cold Rock,” to learn more about the history of climbing in Finland).

As climbing gained in popularity, so did the demand for indoor options.

*From dust to dyno. Photo courtesy of RockSolid.*

The First Time Around

Today, there are eight climbing gyms in Helsinki, or about one for every 8,100 citizens.

Ben ran a gym in 2011 when things were on the upswing. But he and his partner were a bit early.

“It was growing, but not that fast and my partner lost interest. So we decided to close it down,” says Ben. “But I was always telling my friends, ‘Some day I’m going to open another one.’”

What About Mexico?

Juha was looking for a change and proposed the idea: “What about a climbing gym? And what about in Mexico?,” recalls Ben.

“I thought about it for two seconds… Let’s go!,” he says, laughing.

Ben had never been to Mexico before, but Juha had spent 6 months there in 2015, then went on a two week fact finding mission in early 2017.

“We wanted to know: What is there? Is there any potential? Is this just a crazy idea?,” Ben jokes.

Upon Juha’s return to Finland, an unfortunate snowmobiling accident resulted in 3 bed-ridden months with a broken leg. Turns out an exercise in immobility is a good opportunity to hatch a business plan.

They were on the move to Mexico City later that summer, crutches and all.

*A ray of light portends what’s to come in an old dusty print house. Photo courtesy of RockSolid.*

Sprinting to Stop

“The nice thing about Mexico is if I want to open a book store, I can get it up and running a week later. That’s basically what we did here: I rented the space from a friend, ordered about 1,000 books, built the shelfs, and put up a small sign on the window.”

That was how it was described to me by El Jefe at Librería La Comezón in Querétaro. I heard other iterations thereof, from opening a pizza shop to starting a crash pad company. You can basically just start, and move things along quickly.

That wasn’t the case with RockSolid.

“We didn’t know anything about the city,” begins Ben. “The first thing we did was to print a whole bedroom wall-sized map. We marked all the schools, the Metro lines, bus lines, etc. to get the idea of what the city was about.”

They started searching uptown around Polanco then moved south. Sometimes they’d show up to a listing found online to find nothing resembling the pictures. Other times the location just didn’t work. Eventually, they uncovered an old printing factory that had gone defunct 6 years earlier.

Legal work took four months. Wood they had pre-bought for the buildout had been sold to another customer, so they had to wait for new timber to be cut and dried. And then construction took longer than expected.

“Eight months of building and before that, one year of planning and finding a place,” says Ben.

“We opened RockSolid on July 6, 2019,” he declares, beaming.

It was the biggest gym in the country at the time.

*An international crew gathers for a Reel Rock showing. Photo courtesy of RockSolid.*

A New Home

“I’m really happy to be a part of the community here in Mexico,” shares Ben, reflecting on the opening of the gym and of his time so far. “I felt home from the moment I came.”

They’re just in the beginning, not even a year in since opening. But Ben seems pleased with the progress.

“It’s been good. Super long and rough journey, but it was all worth it.” Just like winters in Finland.

My First Climbing Comp: The Substance Matches the Hype at adidas’ Ticket to Rockstars Brooklyn

Climbing

Past a skate shop and bulky shirtless crossfitters, and opposite an axe throwing bar, sits a climbing gym in the old Daily News garage in Brooklyn.

Amateur climbers were gathered to compete in the adidas Ticket to Rockstars event. Many, like myself, were there for their first ever competition, while the crusher few were vying to win entrance to the Finals in Stuttgart, Germany, and the chance to compete against pros.

For the intro price of $25, I signed up for some cheap thrills, swag, and this story. Considering the notoriety of World Cup comps and the upcoming Olympics, I wanted to see what the hell this was all about.

Would the experience live up to the hype?

…

It was 2pm on a hot and hazy Saturday, the sun is radiant and the blacktop is radiating heat. Children in green shirts are spilling out into the street chattering with the enthusiasm of a sugar high. Heavy baselines boom from the open doors of the stucco entrance that reads, “THE NEWS – BROOKLYN ~~GARAGE~~ BOULDERS.”

Inside, the chalky air rises in convection flumes and settles in back quarters and on black mats. Friendly faces check me in, while pint-sized competitors and families with cameras gather around for the award ceremony in the background.

“The prize for the top female… well, uhh, girl,” the announcer pauses. “The top finisher in the girl’s Kids Jam category is Tessa Huang who flashed nearly every problem!”

Cheers give way to pounding music, which pulses through the speakers thrashing my eardrums. I’m surprised you can’t see sound waves in the thick mist that hangs like humid air over a seaside beach. It’s like preparing for a night in a hostel with a loud snorer; “Gonna be a long one,” I think to myself.

“The Open Jam starts in 10 minutes,” the MC hollers over the sound system.

I dash outside for free ice cream: Strawberry jam crumble in a cone. Ice cream before a competition, you say? I was prepared to do whatever it takes to win. Just kidding. Damn do I like ice cream.

*Let the games begin. Photo by the author.*

“Welcome to the first ever adidas Rockstars event here in New York City,” the MC declares without exclamation points. “We’re going to go over the rules then let you get to the fun.”

Logistics are confirmed, scoring clarified, and a count is given.

“3, 2, 1. Go!”

Cheers amass and the mass disperses in the way a drop of soap slowly spreads across the top of a bowl of water.

Despite the sludgy speed, the stoke is high and volume higher.

A woman behind me starts on problem #6, a slightly more than vertical jug-haul on green holds. She makes a few moves, tentatively, trying various body positions, and falls.

Lines queue up quickly around low grades and where others already are. It was a peak into human psychology: People were attracted to the manageable and the masses.

…

I walk through the central corridor under the Brooklyn Bridge facsimile to the back left corner where there is a nook with easy problems. A booming speaker and the only meaningful fan in the place complement the space.

Climbers cruise a slightly overhanging moderate comprised of downward facing pinches on sloping feet, pink holds. The feeling I always get in a new gym washes over me: “I wonder if I’m gonna eat shit on these?” As if all of a sudden I’ll forget how to climb and any technical ability beyond flopping will escape me.

After watching a train of people repeating the same refrain, I jump on and flash the problem in similar effect. “Okay, this is manageable,” I assure myself.

Turning away from the nook unveils the cave. It is comprised of an upward slanting roof covered in hard problems and a flowy jug-haul on an arete. The movements look fun so I wait in line for the yellow moderate.

There are big cheers for top outs and proud parents phone-filming their daughter. She starts strong but the transition out from under the roof proves difficult for her feet. She tries—fights once, twice, three times to kick her legs up—but falls in the end and returns to the line for round 2.

…

Scoring is straight forwardish. Three levels of difficulty: Blue (easy), Red (moderate), Black (hard). Each problem equates to a total number of points between 100-400, with harder sets worth more. Points are divided by the total number of people who complete the problem. For example, if 2 people finish a black worth 400, they each get 200 points. If 100 people do the same blue worth 100 points, each person gets 1 point. Most points gets a trip to Stuttgart. There are 40 problems total.

Thus proved one of the challenges of the event: 40 problems for 280 participants (or so the rumor went) meant a lot of waiting around.

“I didn’t know it was going to be this crowded,” demurred Victor He, who was supposed to be in the office until 4:30pm that day. He came down at the behest of his significant other, bicycling from Midtown.

“But I’m glad I came,” he says. “It’s a good environment to practice finding happiness in, which I’m being intentional about.”

…

I move towards the entrance to a cupcake shaped peninsula and try a harder piece, white holds.

The problem starts on crimps and is off-balance, with only the right leg on a sticky sloper. Then it goes into a falling lunge to a right hand pinch on a half moon while simultaneously latching on to a slippery football sized dihedral with the left. The next sequence was a left heel hook match to the left hand then a left hand reach up to an open palm crimp on the corner of a dihedral. Hold body tension and slowly bring your legs under, then right foot up and into the crescent, maintaining balance and grip on slippery hands the whole way.

I didn’t get this one. “Interesting,” I thought to myself.

The problems were lavished with what Laurent Laporte, the head route setter of adidas Rockstars, described as “funny.”

“What do you mean?,” I probe.

“We want people to smile while climbing,” he explains. “There are different styles, we try to incorporate some surprises, like no hands or unexpected movements.”

We look around and see plenty of smiles.

…

“Americans love lining up,” an Aussie mused to me before boarding the bus in Boston. Her observation played out accurately as the respect for queues was strong at the comp. On the plus side, it gave you ample rest.

*A tricky bastard. Photo by the author.*

After tiring of waiting for the white moderate, I proceeded to the back, returning near the fan and a problem that begins with a jump start, black holds.

Stepping up lands you on a peanut-sized undercling that you catch with your thumbs, holding tension on a right-footed pedestal and left-footed friction on a sloping dihedral. Steady yourself to officially start. The next moves were a traverse left on tricky slopers for feet to a downward angled dihedral you needed to match hands on. Leaning left and holding with your right hand, jump around the corner to a deep-pocketed sloper that required keeping your right hand on for compression while cutting feet.

“Fun setting today,” remarked Courtney Billig, who regularly climbs in New Jersey. “A lot of dynamic moves, which is not something I tend to try.”

…

About 2 hours in a few crushers arrived and make quick work of the cave problems. This includes Ray Hansen (who won the comp) and Téo Genecand (who took third).

The green set in the cave was a strongman contest. The problem starts low on overhung pinches and moved to a dead point two-finger pocket. This was followed by a shallow jug then a series of Tarzan-like swings through 3 two-finger pockets that required rotating one’s body 180 degrees. Climbers hung and swung their whole weight on two fingers at a time. This led to a toe-hook out from under the roof, then a hand match, finishing up with technical face climbing on small crimps. The problem was #38 (out of 40), making it one of the most challenging of the lot.

I tried working a pink in the mid-30s, what others called, “maybe a V9.” Not knowing the grades and in the light of competition, it was fun to jump on random problems that caught the eye.

“It’s a cool opportunity to see what comps are like,” noted Josh Greenwood, a coach at Brooklyn Boulders who was participating in the event. “What’s nice is it encourages people to try something new, different problems they might not normally do.”

Riley MacLeod, an editor at Kotaku, agreed. “I’ve only been climbing three months,” he starts. “But the woman who taught the intro class said ‘you should do it!,’ so I signed up. I almost turned around on the way here.” He continues, “I tend to wuss out near the top, but today, it only counts if you get to the top, so I’m going for it and completing the climb! This has definitely inspired me to push a little more.”

*I came. I saw. I faltered. Photo by the author.*

Nearing the end and with ears ringing like a steel drum, I call it a day.

My cheeks are sore and I realize I’ve been smiling the whole time. Seeing the participants enthusiastically try problems and cheer each other on lit me up, and is a reminder of how special the climbing community can be.

Never turning down a free beer, I cash in my drink ticket for an ale and kick back to watch competitors attempt their last climbs. There’s back slapping and hand clapping, high fiving and laughing, all in the name of camaraderie and fun.

“I like to compete with myself,” says Victor, “not other people.” “Which means you can celebrate everyone else instead of rooting against them,” I add. “Right,” he says.

I can see what the hype is all about now.

The Wall, Ukraine’s Most Modern Climbing Gym in Lviv

Climbing, Gym Reviews, Travel

In 2015, Stanislav “Stas” Kleshnov took his place on the podium, waved to the crowd, and walked away from competition climbing as the Ukrainian champion.

For 25 years, this had been his life. The competitive spirit is marked in his sharp-features and stern look, which cracks with an occasional smirk or glint in his eye. His determined expression offers clues of the hard work it took to rise from the 10 year old kid who was inspired the first time he saw the limestone cliffs over the Black Sea.

He knew then the sport was his escape from a life of mining or metallurgy, the likely paths for those from Donetsk.

Climbing offered a way to see Europe after the dissolution of the USSR, and it exposed him to the training resources and gyms in other countries. For years Ukraine had a strong showing in international competition, from Olga Shalagina (1st, boulder), Olena Ryepko (1st, speed), and Maksym Styenkovyy (2nd place, speed), claiming medals as World Champions in 2005 to multiple podium placements across the three disciplines (speed, boulder, lead) through the early 2010s. Danyil Boldyrev remains one of the best in speed, but the country has seen its position passed in the other disciplines by the likes of Japan, Slovenia, China, and others.

In the end, Stas was proud of the national team’s accomplishments, but disappointed in the state of things and where they were headed.

“The government just hasn’t invested in the sport like other countries. They didn’t build any modern gyms. They thought professional sportsmen would grow up in the private sector [at commercial gyms], but those gyms [here] aren’t designed for that. Ukraine is falling behind,” Stas demurs.

When he decided to hang up his boots, he wanted to leave a legacy beyond his medals. He used what he learned from international competition to open the country’s most modern climbing gym, The Wall, in Lviv, and to welcome others into the sport.

Stas says, “Before the modern gyms, you could only start climbing in a sports institute or in school. There was no other way: Only children’s school or a sports school. We make climbing more open.”

The Wall is taking an innovative approach borne out of necessity, some luck, and a rise in accessibility to the sport, such as climbing gear being more easily available and rising wages.

The Gym:

Stas flashed a smile and greeted me in English, a language he hadn’t had to use in months.

“Добрий день (dobryj den, ‘hello’),” I offered, and he showed me around the gym.

Tucked into the side of an office building, The Wall offers a unique model that is perfectly suited for the small, but growing climbing community in Lviv. At 210 sq. meters (689 sq. ft.), it is tiny by conventional standards, but it suggests a viable “micro” gym for corporate and residential buildings as climbing continues to increase in popularity.

In Lviv, this size works just fine given the cost constraints (rent can be as expensive as in Germany), shifting cultural acceptance around paying for sport, and the gradual but developing interest in climbing in Ukraine. Still, The Wall welcomed over 1,200 unique climbers last year, most of whom tried the sport for the first time.

The gym itself is bathed in light with floor to ceiling windows on three sides. The place is cozy without feeling cramped, and amazingly, it packs in over 50 routes up to 14 meters high. Given the strength of the instructors (many have competed on the national team), the setting is high quality, catering to the moderate range. There is a bouldering area with plenty of features to keep it interesting, and a workout space that doubles as a yoga room.

I spent August, 2018 in Lviv and this was my first dedicated time to top-roping. The instructors were personable and friendly, and were quick to offer encouragement in the form of yelling “давай-давай (davai davai, something like ‘let’s go!’)” at me.

It was a fantastic place to learn the ropes.

Amenities:

Yoga, hang boards, plyometric boxes, personal instruction, instructors who will happily belay you, changing room.

How to Get There:

Google Maps doesn’t show all the bus and tram options, so download the Eway app.

The 2 tram and the 29 bus will get you there.

Address:

Lviv, Geroiv UPA 72 housing 40, Technopark

Info:

A single day pass is between 100-120 UAH (~$3.80-$4.50), depending on what time of day you go, while a monthly pass is 1,700 UAH (~$64).

Phone number: +380 67 711 0496
(They are also responsive on Facebook Messenger)

Hours:
Monday-Friday: 3:00-9:00PM
Saturday, Sunday: 11:00AM-8:00PM

About Lviv:
Lviv is a fascinating city with a long and complicated history. It is on the western edge of Ukraine and is one of the cultural centers of the country. There is beautiful architecture from the Hapsburg days, vast parks throughout the city, and a lively tourist scene with many restaurants and bars.

Resources:

The Wall website
Facebook page

Enter the Void

Personal Narrative, Psychology, Reflection

I met a guy. He climbs for his daughter.

He’s an immigrant and has to leave the country in a month. His two years are up but his daughter will stay. A home divided.

For years he scrapped to come to America from the place where Europe and Asia meet–or separate, depending on your perspective. He felt it might provide a better opportunity for his kin. He’s still not sure.

His wife had studied in the U.S., even earned a green card at one point, and then relinquished it years ago. Circumstances. Something about not being able to afford to come back for the legal work. They tried to make it this time around, but the two years wasn’t enough.

I met a guy. He climbs for his daughter, and to grapple with the upcoming calculus: The subtraction of 3-1.

…

Haruki Murakami was asked about why he runs, because as a prolific writer he also has an avidity for marathons. Both are grueling endurance activities, it makes sense. Anywho, over the past few decades, on average, he has runs 6-miles-a-day-6-days-a-week. He turned his response into a book, but that’s not important.

This is: He says he runs to create a void. He runs to not think.

I can relate. These days, climbing is the only activity that cores out quietude in a muddled mental world. Running used to. Hiking has, on occasion. But climbing is the only tranquil place for me.

So what goes on when I climb? Nothing much beyond what’s in front of me. It is silence, deeply satisfying and desperately needed sometimes.

…

If life is like a narrative, sadness is a theme in mine.

Perhaps I’m prone to be low, to live with a mild depression. I don’t find it difficult to get out of bed or question my existence, but often my experience is tinged with the dour. The sadness is like a cat in a city alley, always sneaking around in the background.

I’m sure this is part of the human condition. I know from talking with people and seeing it in others. But so consistently? I’m not certain.

Climbing happens to bring joy, but at minimum it creates a space for the heart to catch its breath for a bit. Like the cool down after Murakami’s latest 6 miler.

…

The guy at the gym is quite a skilled climber. It’s like art, he dances.

We recognize beauty, probably evolved an eye for it. Its hard to explain but you know it when you see it—a symmetrical face, a flower backed by gilded rays—what I’m trying to say is, his climbing is beautiful. Fluid movements flow into each other like a waterfall in reverse. Struggle is non-existent, his toes float by without a sound. It’s like he bends space so that every motion lands exactly where it needs to be on a wall that comes to him. No wasted breath. No extra effort. The flight of a bird.

I call him The Dancer.

Another climber and I were talking about him, The Dancer. “I asked him, how long have you been here today?,” he tells me.

The Dancer replied, “4-5 hours.”

“Whoa, man, how many days a week do you climb?,” the man followed up.

“4-5 days,” The Dancer said.

The guy’s eyes are bright, and he speaks to me as if we’re sharing a secret, “Well I guess we know why he’s so good!” He’s practically winking at me.

I’m not sure the guy thought to ask, “Why do you climb so much?” Maybe he knows and didn’t know that I know, so we talked about facts and not whys.

I had spoken to The Dancer before and I did ask why. I learned of his need to create a void. But I touched on a sharp edge that left tender fingers.

“I need to go climb now, I’m starting to think about my daughter,” he said. His eyes were dim, glassy, with salted water damming at the edges.

“I’m sorry, man,” was all I could muster.

…

*Photo by* *Patrick Hendry* on *Unsplash*

It’s not about avoiding the pain in your life, per se, to seek these spaces of solace. But I can understand the need to go there to give your damned mind and heart a break.

The Dancer seems very much in touch with the realities of his situation. And he knows he uses climbing to grapple with the pain.

After carrying around that weight all day, to be able to unshackle at the gym must feel like an Atlassian weight off the back. I imagine that’s why it looks like he floats right along.

…

Some days are dark and heavy, others we buoy like a butterfly.

Whether we move through the world in flight or on all fours, we do so with what we have, where we are, and with our own ways of coping.

For what it’s worth, I hope we are all so lucky to find a place of peace, if just for a few hours.

…

Feature photo by Dorothy Lin on Unsplash

Gravity Climbing Centre Dublin, Ireland: Where Climbers Meet

Climbing, Gym Reviews

At Dublin’s first public climbing gym, climbers meet, get married and have children. It’s that kind of place: Like the Cheers of climbing spots.

The gym, Gravity Climbing Centre, sits in an office park on the south-west side of Dublin, tucked in the back in an old warehouse. It is a large and square building, split down the middle, the other side housing the Church of God. With the high ceilings of Gravity, the communal gatherings, and euphoria-inducing rock alters one might wonder which space feels more spiritual.

But, before I made these observations, I had to get there.

“Why are there never signs?,” I wondered to myself, while peevishly looking this way and that.

On the walk from the tram, I had passed a woman in a bright yellow jumper. She was now coming down the sidewalk. “Excuse me, do you know where the gym is?,” I asked. She looked ready to quicken her pace, pretend to ignore me. But her fatal flaw was to make eye contact and she offered a quizzical smile.

“Sorry, what?” She said, turning her ear towards me.

“Do you know where the climbing gym is? Rock climbing?” I mimed reaching up towards holds, which probably looked rather like trying to vigorously ascend a ladder, or doggy paddling the air.

“Oh, it’s this way!,” she exclaimed, and we trotted off making small talk.

Turns out we were both getting back into climbing after a two month break, with mixed success in readjusting to the high life. Out front, two-story tall glass windows vibrated to upbeat indie music and unveiled a luminescent picture frame of athletic looking people athleting about on the walls.

She showed me where to check in then sidled up to a friend.

Vibe:

Superlative one: Community

“It’s hard to walk around Dublin without running into someone from Gravity,” Zoe, a climbing instructor manning the front desk, notes. She’s been there since it opened in 2010 (or was it 2011? She can’t remember), first as a member and now as staff.

“That seems like a good indicator for a strong community,” I offer.

The gym is deep, cavernous. Chalk dust hangs in the air and mixes with the fluorescent lights sparkling above. Conversation hums. There’s an energy about.

People smile, jokes fly (as do people performing dynos), and you can tell everyone is genuinely enjoying themselves.

“It’s sort of become a social space that’s beyond just a climbing wall. And there are groups that have formed here that have become more than just friends that climb together.”

“It’s definitely something more than what it is, somehow.”

“How so?,” I ask

Zoe takes a breath to think, “It’s pretty varied [the people], which is what I like about climbing; It’s an activity that brings everyone together rather than an identity, so you get all sorts who are just here to do the same thing: Climbing.”

And that leads to variety, unexpected emergent properties, marriage. Zoe would tell me how several couples have gotten hitched and are now having kids. I wondered if the happy duos finished their gym session then went next door to tie the knot, all giddy on endorphins and post-climb sugary protein bars.

Climbing:

Superlative two: Route-setting

Gravity’s website suggests, “It’s all about exceptionally good route-setting.” I’d agree.

The climbing is diverse, though it centers around crimps, edges, slopers, pinches and technical movements at the higher grades. It’s not heavy on dynos or acrobatic style. With that said, the routes are interesting and coax the brain into problem-solving mode. There is quite a bit of vertical wall space, along with a few caves and overhanging sections, which allows for diversity in style.

Zoe adds, “The setting is very good. That is something they’ve”—the owners—”always put special emphasis on.”

“Going from indoors to outdoors, people who have started here… [and who have transitioned to] outside, it’s remarkable to see how quickly they take to rock, and the technique. I think the style here translates well to climbing outdoors.”

“Do you think this is intentional?,” I inquire.

“The owners were climbers for years and years in Ireland, and I think they were very tapped into what the community needed and what they needed out of a gym. They’ve always consistently been able to make it a really nice atmosphere.”

It shows.