Little Cottonwood Rock: Chickenhead Holiday

It’s hard to imagine Little Cottonwood Canyon largely unclimbed. Officially, that is, with gear. These days, if you’re in the right season and know where to go, it’s almost impossible to not spot at least a climber or two. Even if you don’t, you can see signs of their exploits painted on the rock: large swaths of stone dusted with chalk, prominent chalk ticks someone failed to brush off, maybe a forgotten piece of protection, if you crane your neck and strain your eyes.

There was a time, however, when modern rock climbing as we know it had not yet made its way to the Canyon. From time to time, I try to imagine what it would have looked like. What those first climbers would have seen. The butterfly-inducing excitement they would have felt. The kind that leaves you unable to sleep. Seeing the monolithic walls that rose from the ground, not even a trace of past ascensionists. Unclimbed, virgin rock. Not nearly as mind-shattering huge as somewhere like Yosemite, but inspiring in its own right. These climbers would be able to leave their mark on the history of the canyon. And it all began with a little two-pitch crack called Chickenhead Holiday.

Chickenhead Holiday is aptly named. Its namesake, the many chickenheads along the route, is what made it such an appealing proposition. While others have their own meanings for the word chickenhead—some more wholesome than others—us climbers know them as parts of the rock that protrude from the main wall, almost like a knob. These bits of rock make for great handholds, or a prime spot to wrap a sling. Some even say chickenheads hold better than drilled bolts, although I wouldn’t bet my life on it. Back then, the hardness of the Little Cottonwood rock made it difficult to hammer in pitons (the primary protection piece at the time), so other means of protection were needed until newer gear came along. So you can see what a treat the chickenheads would have been to these ambitious early climbers.

The year was 1961. It was an eventful time. Yuri Gagarin became the first human to orbit the Earth aboard the Vostok 1. JFK was inaugurated as the 35th president of the United States and established the Peace Corps.  Activists defied segregation laws in the Freedom Rides. The Beatles played their first show in Liverpool, and Princess Diana was born. Amidst all of this, two friends and members of the Alpenbock Climbing Club, Bob Stout and Ted Wilson, carved out their own small piece of history, climbing Chickenhead Holiday and becoming the first people to put up a documented climb in Little Cottonwood Canyon.

There aren’t many descriptive accounts of Stout and Wilson’s ascent, but one can imagine the two standing at the base of Chickenhead Holiday, gearing up and preparing themselves for the coming climb. Whether or not they knew the spark this would create, the climbing frenzy it would inspire. If I know anything about climbers, they were likely just cracking jokes and discussing what they would eat for lunch.

While Chickenhead Holiday is far from the hardest or most picturesque route in the Canyon today, its existence is a key piece of climbing history, at least in Little Cottonwood. Proving that climbing was possible in the Canyon, Stout and Wilson shook loose a rock that would later become a landslide, culminating in the more than 2,000 routes—and counting—now documented throughout Little Cottonwood. A humble start to a climbing scene that remains surprisingly under the radar, even to this day. Chickenhead Holiday is now a fantastic beginner route, graded at 5.6, where climbers new to “trad” rock climbing can cut their teeth in preparation for other amazing routes found throughout the canyon.

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