Kurt Smith: A Lifetime of First Ascents and Access for Climbers
Kurt is known around Rock Mill as the Shoe Demo-Guy. Once a year, he makes the trek from the New River Gorge, where he lives, to Akron, to give us 21st-century climbers the opportunity to try the latest styles and maybe leave the gym with a shiny new pair of climbing shoes.
While Kurt measures our feet in millimeters and helps us make the painstaking choice between the Defy and Elektra, it’s soon apparent that his knowledge of climbing extends beyond toe boxes and velcro.
Hidden underneath layers of humility and an old-school approach is a bit of a climbing legend. In fact, Kurt has been a fixture in the climbing world for more than four decades, since the ‘70s, when, growing up in Lake Tahoe, Kurt found a fascination with the big walls of Yosemite that quickly overpowered his fear of heights.
Since that time, he has put up thousands of routes and played a significant role in shaping modern climbing. We’re lucky to have his imprint here at Rock Mill, and even luckier that he agreed to share some stories with us for the second Rock Mill Beta Night this month.
Here is a transcript from his talk on Jan. 22.
Before there ever were foam pads and modern gear, bouldering was a different game. The ground was your landing, and falling wasn’t really an option. Climbs were committing, and safety gear was rudimentary. In Tuolumne Meadows in Yosemite, for example, we climbed high boulders with dirt landings, knowing that sometimes the rock could break. You had to be ready to handle whatever happened.
In 1984, I did the second ascent of a problem called The Woodward in Yosemite Valley. A British climber had put it up, and at around 35 feet tall, it was serious business. By today’s standards, it’d probably go at V5. I climbed up and down that thing countless times before I finally committed to sending it.
Then there was <a class="highlighted-link">Midnight Lightning</a>. When it was established in 1977, it was considered the hardest boulder problem in the world. For seven years, no one could repeat it. All the top climbers of the era tried and failed. I started working on it in the spring, throwing myself at it day after day, plummeting on every move. By the fall, I was getting stronger, and at the end of the season, I managed the fourth ascent.
Climbing in those days demanded full commitment. Whether you wanted to send a 5.11 or a 5.9, you just had to go for it. There was no <a class="highlighted-link">hang-dogging</a> and no taking. Harnesses were barely a thing; climbers would tie a piece of webbing around their waist, rig up some leg loops, and make do. <a class="highlighted-link">Friends</a> - the first <a class="highlighted-link">camming</a> devices - had just been invented. The gear was really only there to stop you from dying; it wasn’t a tool to help you climb. If you fell, you lowered back to the ground and started over.
I never stuck to just one style of climbing. <a class="highlighted-link">Free soloing</a> was just part of our everyday climbing before Alex Honnold made it famous. You just got comfortable moving without a rope. Winters meant ice climbing, which was a total no-fall sport back then. <a class="highlighted-link">Big wall climbing</a> also quickly became a passion, and I got used to being off the ground for days at a time. One of my biggest goals was to <a class="highlighted-link">Free climb</a> something hard on El Cap. In the mid-‘90s, we attempted the Muir Wall. We spent three months working the route, including 30 nights sleeping on the wall (13 of those on our final push). Living up there, completely committed to the climb, was an unforgettable experience. I have since climbed El Cap 13 times.
But my true love has always been <a class="highlighted-link">first ascents</a>. The first one I got to be part of was in 1982, watching friends from Colorado hand-drill bolts on a new line. They showed me how, and I drilled my first four bolts. That moment changed everything. From then on, I saw rock differently. You have to see the route before it exists; there are no color-coded holds, no markers, no beta. It’s just vision and rock. Even now, when I drive past cliffs or visit new areas I’m always envisioning potential lines.
That process—hanging on hooks, pulling up the drill, figuring out bolt spacing—felt natural to me. It could take days or even a week to bolt a new line, then more time to clean it, scrub it and start working on it. It was during this time that I fell in love with El Potrero Chico in Mexico, where the walls are 2,000+ feet tall. I spent six winters there, bolting long, multi-pitch routes, including a 15-pitch, 5.12+ called El Sendero Luminoso.
In the early ‘90s, climbing gyms and competitions started taking off. I competed for three years as part of the U.S. Climbing Team, which ingrained in me a “first-try” mentality. Eventually, I began developing and bolting sport routes. We were some of the early developers of Rifle, which became one of the most well-known sport climbing areas in Colorado. For three years, we had the canyon to ourselves, bolting routes from the ground up.
In the early 2000s, I made a big shift. I was deep in debt, tired of being broke and ready for something new. And so I moved east to become a sales rep. The New River Gorge felt like the perfect place where I could still have whole climbing days to myself while also maintaining a “real job” and start a family.
I’ve been incredibly lucky to find something I’m passionate about—something that’s given me unforgettable memories, lifelong friends, and a career in the outdoor industry.
EDITOR’S NOTE: For the past 20 years, Kurt has lived in the <a class="highlighted-link">New River Gorge</a>, where he runs Top Gun Sales, a sales agency representing brands like Sterling Rope, Evolv, Nemo Equipment, BioLite, Wild Country, LifeStraw, and Salewa.
He continues to spend much of his time developing new routes, always seeking the best lines – regardless of the grade. With over 500 first ascents in areas like Yosemite, Joshua Tree, Clear Creek Canyon, Rifle, and El Potrero Chico, his influence can be found across many iconic climbing destinations. Along the way, he also competed on the National and World Cup circuit, earning a national title and ranking in the top 20 worldwide in the early ‘90s.
Beyond climbing itself, Kurt has been deeply involved in access and conservation efforts. Through his work with the <a class="highlighted-link">Access Fund</a>, he has helped protect climbing areas, ensuring that future generations can enjoy them. His <a class="highlighted-link">Kickin’ Access Tour</a> raised over $100,000 and brought in more than 3,000 new Access Fund members. His efforts led to a three-year term on the Access Fund’s Board of Directors, where he worked to keep climbing areas open and sustainable.
Outside of climbing, his biggest source of pride is his family—his wife, Pei Lee Ren, and their 10-year-old son, Elliott.
FUN FACTS:
- Pairs of Evolv shoes sold at demos: Over 10,000
- Climbers who have tried Evolv shoes at his demos: 43,251 (and counting!)
