Rediscovering the East: Laurentians and Adirondacks
Jerome St-Michel is a Québec-based trad climber focused on hard crack climbing and long-term projects across Eastern North America.
Introduction
After a few seasons focused out west, I spent this summer back home in the East, splitting my time between the Laurentians and the Adirondacks. I wanted to revisit the cliffs that shaped my early climbing years and to test myself on some old Quebec classics and new lines I’d never touched.
Laurentians
The first part of summer was all about the Laurentians. I spent long days at Mont King (Val-David) and other more obscure cliffs, repeating some of the harder trad routes in the region.
Hypothénuse (5.13+) had been in the back of my mind for a couple of seasons, a technical and bouldery finger crack that demands power, precision, and a good bit of humility. It climbs through a steep, leaning crack where jamming, heel hooking, and laybacking blend into a sequence that’s as physical as it is mental. Since I can’t place much gear on redpoint attempts, every try felt full-on. Finishing that one was eye-opening, definitely a milestone.
Then came Dommages Collatéraux (5.13), a short, explosive roof crack near St-Hippolyte, and not for climbers with scruples. The climbing is powerful and gymnastic, with tricky, squishy hand jams guarding the crux, but the route sits right in a swamp, with endless mosquitoes and mud everywhere. Definitely not the place to bring a brand-new rope. Luckily, the vibes were great, and I got to climb with two of my friends, Alex and Jean-Simon, both seasonal crushers.
Adirondacks
By mid-summer, I turned my attention south, across the border, to the Adirondacks, a region I hadn’t visited in almost six years. I didn’t realize how much I’d missed the raw texture of the anorthosite, the smell of pine, and the quiet, remote feel of the place.
I reconnected with the local community while climbing at The Spider’s Web, where I finished some of the best lines around: Black Widow, Lycanthropia (both 5.12+), and Zabba (5.13-). The routes are technical, exposed, and surprisingly varied, from perfect cracks to crimpy faces, and the crew down there made it all the more memorable. Camping at Chapel Pond Campground was awesome, and I got to hang out with locals like Matt, Vinny, Eliza, and Seb. Thanks to all of you for making my time there so special, for the conversations about climbing, life, food, and even politics.
Eventually, I found myself drawn to Moss Cliff, a wall I’d heard stories about for years but had never truly explored. I was lucky to team up with Peter Kamitses, who established most of the free routes on the famous Aid Wall, and have him show me around. Watching him work on his long-term project, a wild 5.14 crack system, was a masterclass in patience and vision.
I began projecting Fire in the Sky (5.13+), a 50-metre enduro pitch that climbs relentlessly through steep orange stone. With partners hard to find, I spent much of my time there learning to top-rope solo, dialing in rope systems and getting used to the intimidating exposure. The first few days were all about figuring out how to fix a static line properly and how to position myself so I could try moves in isolation; there was a lot of swinging through space. But with every session, I felt more comfortable, not just with the logistics, but with the wall itself.
That process—being alone on a massive, slick overhang, slowly unlocking moves and headspace—reminded me how much the geeky, problem-solving side of climbing fascinates me. It’s definitely as much about your mind as it is about strength.
Climbing with Peter also rekindled something I’ve been missing lately: mentorship. Learning from climbers with a couple decades of experience brings a perspective that’s hard to get otherwise. It’s grounding and inspiring at the same time.
By the time fall rolled in, my hands were a bit broken, my rope systems a bit smoother, and my respect for the East a lot deeper. I’m still hoping for a decent weather window to go back and try to finish Fire in the Sky.
Lasting Thought
The Laurentians and the Dacks both feel timeless; they are places that keep teaching you something new every season.
Big thanks to Ontario Resoles for providing me with great gear, and the opportunity to share this story!
