PAFlete: Chris Wright

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nterview by Kevin Machtelinckx

As you grew up, was climbing on your radar at all? If not, what was? What did you think you wanted to do with your life? 

The short answer on this one is no—I had no idea what climbing was. I guess like the rest of the non-climbing public I may have been vaguely aware that it was a thing people did, but it wasn’t a thing anyone I knew did so when I discovered it I remember asking myself why nobody had told me, because I thought it was the most amazing thing I’d ever done. Growing up in Northeastern Pennsylvania I had an appreciation for outside in that I spent countless hours playing in some beautiful woods as a kid, skateboarded and snowboarded obsessively in high school, but I think by growing up where I did all I really knew was that I wanted to get out. I left Mountaintop, which is about as small as it sounds, when I went to college and, even though Manhattan wasn’t that far away physically, it felt like the opposite of a small town in the Poconos. I went to study film production and I thought I wanted to travel to make movies, but in the end I’ve sort of come to realize that what I really wanted was just to see the world, to share meaningful experiences with people, and to maybe work with those people to make some stories. So in a sense what I’m doing now isn’t all that far off.

Was there a moment or experience for you that made you think “Climbing/alpinism is what I want to do with my life”?

I can’t remember a single moment of inspiration so much as I can remember the feeling after just going out for the first time. I had a buddy in college who was a climber, and one day he just asked if I wanted to go rock climbing. I remember saying sure, not knowing anything about it and of course not knowing that the Gunks, where we were headed, was a world-class climbing area. I just remember asking what to wear. Al told me to wear normal clothes, but I somehow didn’t believe him and wore gym shorts. Anyway, I remember going out to Pete’s Kill and hiking like a half an hour to the top of the cliff and watching Al rig some ovals and webbing around a tree. We dropped the rope down, and not knowing how to rappel (or even that that was what we would have done if we’d had a clue), we walked all the way back around to the base. Then we’d top-rope these crazy steep routes and go swinging off the routes into the trees, laughing and I’m sure looking like complete idiots. Then of course we’d walk all the way back around, move the rope to a different tree and do it all again. And yet I don’t remember feeling self-conscious about it at all. I just remember thinking, “This is fun. I wish I’d known about this earlier, because damn, this is fun.” After that it was all over. As soon as I became aware that people went ice climbing I wanted to do it, and as soon as I saw what alpinists were I wanted to be one, and for me I think even when I was just learning for some reason I just assumed that the end goal was to go someplace to do big new routes. As my climbing progressed of course I found out that not everyone shared that vision, but I was lucky to learn from a lot of great folks and have awesome partners early on, to survive my own idiocy and here we are.

Photo: Lacey Gibbet

You are a self-described ‘avid first-ascensionist’. What advice do you have for those of us who aspire to similar dreams?

That’s a tough one, because on the one hand I want to tell people to just buy the ticket and go, and at the same time I can’t say that’s exactly what I did. As I said, I guess I always knew that I wanted to climb big things, but I think since I didn’t start until I was maybe 20 (I’m 34 now) I knew I had a lot to learn. I was just figuring it all out as I went along, and I was lucky to climb with folks who helped me hone the skills I needed, whether through big-walling in Yosemite, doing the same in winter, ice climbing, guiding - which of course hones your mountain sense by putting you out there so many days in a year, especially on days you don’t really want to go out, going on big (for us) alpine trips to the Rockies, and plugging into the incredible community of climbers and guides who called Bend home at that time. Through those connections it felt like I put in enough time to be proficient in most disciplines, and I just happened to meet a local hardman named Mark Deffenbaugh—who I think will end up being remembered as prolific in our little Oregon climbing community; you’ll see his name on new routes all over, from Ozone to Beacon to Smith and a million other little-known spots in Central Oregon—and become buddies with him at just the right time in my life. He and I are still friends, but honestly I say I didn’t just buy the ticket and go because it was Mark that not only opened my eyes to the possibilities, but took me under his wing and taught me the craft of new routing. He taught me everything from how to see a line to how to place a bolt, and he taught me an appreciation for the craft of opening routes. Going out with him I started doing new, mostly small rock routes at home in Oregon, but it helped me to see the way and I took that with me to the mountains. So I guess what I’m trying to say is that I want to encourage anyone with the skill and motivation to just get out there and do it, but I also know that part of the community, and the kind of mentorship you just can’t really experience without engaging with people who can help you see the big picture.

Sometimes you just need someone to help point you in the right direction, you know? Then it’s up to you, and you really do just have to go do it. You’re probably going to go screw it all up at some point in the process of learning some of the lessons that just have to come the hard way, but that’s kind of just how it is. Failure is a part of doing big things, but you still have to go out there and fail, and hopefully it’s going to make you stronger, make you and your partners closer, and get you that much closer to your dreams. On that note, I’d love to offer whatever help I can to anyone who wants it. I’m at least good at getting excited. Best piece of advice I can give actually is one that Mark gave me years ago, which is that you’ll never try harder than you will on your own routes. I didn’t get it at the time, and maybe it’s not the same for everybody, but it’s true for me. I’ll walk away from your god-awful scary hard route that took years to do as soon as I decide the holds are too small or that it’s too cold. I’m not going to kill myself for a hard repeat. But if it’s new, if it’s my god-awful scary sufferfest, then I’m all in.

Photo: Graham Zimmerman

On your site, you talk about food, beer, and coffee a lot. I think many of us can relate. When you’re in the mountains, how much do you think about those things? 

I’m terrible and always thinking about food. Graham and I have found we’re polar opposites in that regard. He makes this absolutely foul, but nutritionally ace brown powdered mix I’ve dubbed “techno-sludge” and could basically live off it in the mountains. I’m lusting after cheeseburgers, and will literally read food articles in the NY Times while I’m in basecamp. I don’t know why I torture myself I guess, but needless to say we take obscene amounts of chocolate and cheese and sausages (Olympic Provisions if possible) and try to do the best we can. At some point even a six-week old unrefrigerated Babybel seems like a treat, but I’m always craving something. I’d take a cheeseburger right now if you had one.

We all have important figures in our lives that support us (or don’t) in these activities that we choose to engage in. Can you talk a little bit about who those figures are for you and why they are important with regards to the decisions that you make? 

I’ve always felt really supported by my friends, my family and especially my partners. I know my parents worry and don’t really get it, but they still try their best to be supportive. I have the most amazing friends though, and even if they’re not climbers they’re people who aren’t afraid to go for it, and so they get it and they’re with me. With my climbing partners I just make sure to go out with people I love and with whom I see eye to eye. It’s a fine line encouraging someone to hang it all out there and give everything they’ve got, yet to do it mindfully and carefully, but somehow that’s what we do. That’s what you want in your climbing partners, someone who pushes you, but also pushes you to make good decisions and come home safely. To me that’s going to equal success in the long game.

Ok... I have to ask. What is your go-to beer in summer? Winter?

I’m a total beer dork, so I can’t peg it to just one, no matter what the season. What I can say is that I always take my Oregon beer snobbery with me, for good or ill, and we brew good beers in all seasons. Funny thing though is that when I’m here for a while sometimes I get burned out on all the hops and what sometimes feels like an arms race to make beer taste like pine trees, but after a few months away (especially in France), just gimme the pine trees and plug it into my veins. If I had to say though, I’d take a Boneyard RPM IPA or a Weihenstephaner Weissbier in summer, and in winter I’ll go for a Jubelale on Nitro at Deschutes, preferably on Monday so I can get a Local’s Night deal on a cheeseburger. With fries.

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