Oh yes, it's all free of charge, isn't it?

Italian original: "Oh yes it's all free of charge, isn't it?" – 14 January 2015

When the first sport crags appeared in Italy, nobody asked whether national, let alone international, coordination was needed. Sport climbing was closely tied to classic mountaineering, where the absence of written rules and obligations was at the root of the adventurous, exploratory spirit of a discipline that had little to do with sport in the classic sense. Mountaineering was something more. Mountaineering is still something more today. The objective risks, hard to calculate, and the setting in which it happens make it so different from a classic sport that it's extremely hard to associate it with anything other than pure outdoors.

But back to "sport" crags. I say "sport" meaning those equipped with fixed protection and described in guidebooks or web pages, even if many of them have nothing at all sporty about them in the classic sense. It's still the outdoors, but in a setting strongly shaped by the work done before opening it to the public. Certainly on low-altitude walls the number of objective dangers is reduced, but at many spots it's still significant. If we're talking about the local spots, essentially the Apennines and foothills around Fabriano, rockfall, natural or caused by other climbers nearby, is by far the number-one objective danger. Next comes the state of the protection, and finally the approach. That's my personal ranking. By objective dangers I mean the ones we can't control and are continuously exposed to while climbing.

On a windy day, or with big temperature swings, standing beneath a wall without a helmet is the best way to have a very close encounter with Saint Peter. A helmet should be the first "sport" purchase for local climbers.

In some ways the wild spirit of mountaineering has been preserved. You climb for free, without written rules and without coordination. In practice there are no informal conventions to follow, except not creating confusion or distraction. Plus there's still a crumb of healthy danger that helps keep a certain level of attention. Children, dogs and relatives are often the only source of friction and conflict between the virtual roped parties.

But the presumption about whether what you find there lives up to expectations is huge. It's hard to see where it comes from, since it's all free and nobody has ever been paid for any work; on the contrary, they've often put in time and money out of their own pocket. This attitude differs greatly from the "sport" it comes from. It's like demanding that the water in a swimming pool be at the ideal temperature for swimming, as much as the ice on the Eiger's north face should be for cramponing. No, guys, that's not right. There's an essential difference in the public here, and this is exactly where we can start to draw the line between mountaineering, climbing and all the other classic sports.

How many times have you heard: "That pitch is dirty! That pitch is badly bolted! The approach path is a disaster." Lines that will never come out of the mouth of even the least accomplished mountaineer, but which are often a topic of discussion for many performance-focused climbers. When a roped party finds a peg on a grade IV pitch, they're hugely relieved. When a sport climber finds a badly placed clip in a line of 12 bolts, he gets annoyed.

Without any pretence of lecturing, we conclude that "free and nice for everyone" doesn't exist, and that everyone can and must do their bit. Otherwise they can go and devote themselves to extreme TRAD. You don't need to own a drill to lend a hand. Bolting a route is less than 20% of the total work around it. If a pitch has a badly placed bolt, it should be reported through the official channels (forums, Facebook, black books and so on) and a discussion opened. If a path is in very bad condition, the situation should be formally reported. Be proactive. Less moaning and more action.

Ideally I'd like to hope that every climber and/or sport climber would champion the upkeep of the crags and paths they use. A unique environment, shared freely and without written rules.

From respect for others, managing dogs and noise in an orderly way, to respect for the place where you go and climb.

The crag is free and belongs to everyone, but the duty to keep it usable and clean also belongs to everyone. There are crags that look like enchanted gardens, and others where, between human excrement, flying toilet paper and invading vegetation, it feels like being in a wild latrine.

Every spring the regrowth fills the holds and footholds of the easy routes, as well as the paths. A pair of pruning shears or five minutes of cleaning is enough to fight it. Nature takes back its walls without giving priority to spaces useful for climbing. The wall is geologically alive and constantly sheds boulders and stones. Always look around you, and if you see plants with fresh scars and holes in the ground from recent impacts, talk about it with others. Compare opinions. Share what you've noticed.

Risk is an important part of our sport. It shouldn't be eliminated: that would be like killing the crumb of historical memory it has kept since its origins. It should be made as calculable and manageable as possible. Talking with others and maintaining the sites are obligations every crag user should accept. Be responsible and do your bit, from the stone or earth cleared from a hold or foothold to the twig cut back on the path. There are a thousand levels of commitment you can take on. If you stay at level 0 you may still be a sport climber, but as a person you're worth less than 0.