Scaling Smith, One climber’s story of grit and granite

Rock Climbing Smith Rock State Park, Bend Oregon.

By the time Eileen rooks clipped into her first route at Smith Rock State Park, the morning sun was already lighting up the canyon walls like fire.

It’s wild. You see photos online, but when you’re standing under these cliffs, it’s a whole different level.

“You feel tiny—and that’s kind of the point,," she said.

Smith Rock, tucked in central Oregon’s high desert near Terrebonne, is known worldwide as one of the top outdoor climbing destinations. The park’s volcanic tuff and basalt cliffs draw climbers from across the globe, with more than 1,500 routes ranging from beginner-friendly to elite-level challenges.

Eileen, a 26-year-old climber from Seattle, made the six-hour drive for what she called her “reset weekend.” After months of indoor gym climbing, he wanted real rock—grit, sun, and all.

“Gym holds are cool, but they don’t fight back,” she said. “Here, the rock decides how your day’s gonna go.”

She started on a classic route, Five Gallon Buckets, a 5.8 climb famous for its big handholds and killer views.

It’s one of those climbs that’s fun from start to finish.

“You’re breathing hard, your arms are screaming, but you get to the top, look down over the Crooked River, and you just forget everything else.”

The park isn’t just for pros. It’s the birthplace of sport climbing in the United States, but there’s a mix of top-rope, trad, and bouldering options for all levels. The cliffs here rise up to 600 feet, and routes like Monkey Face—a 350-foot freestanding spire—offer some of the most iconic climbs in the country.

“I’m not ready for Monkey Face yet,” Eileen said. “That’s the dream climb. You see people hanging off that thing and think, ‘Okay, that’s another level.’ But it’s cool knowing it’s there. Gives you something to train for.”

By afternoon, the heat kicked up, and Eileen took a break by the river, dipping her hands in the cold water. Around her, climbers were scattered along the cliffs, their calls echoing across the canyon.

There’s this unspoken community out here.

“Everyone’s stoked for each other. Doesn’t matter if you’re sending a 5.7 or a 5.14—you’re part of it.”

As the day wrapped, the sun dropped low over the canyon, and the rock turned deep orange, Eileen sat at the base, dusty and tired.

“This place is humbling,” she said. “Every climb teaches you something—about balance, about patience, about not giving up when your fingers feel done. That’s what I love about it. You don’t just climb rock. You climb yourself.”