It might be no surprise to learn that rock climbers are pretty comfortable with a lack of footing. Rock walls often spare only a few centimeters of surface for athletes to place their toes, if that. But climbers are used to such dearth. They can handle it. By utilizing clear and effective communication, athletes can work together to conquer any problem a cliff might throw at them.
What climbers can’t work around is losing their precious climbing spots, or crags, to private landowners or government entities.
Outdoor rock climbing in Arkansas has historically occurred on a mix of private and public land. Many of the state’s climbing hotspots, like Sam’s Throne and Lincoln Lake, could have gone away forever if those in control decided to kick recreationalists out. Many climbers have taken it upon themselves to use the same communication skills they developed while climbing to instate protections for their beloved crags.
Recently, the Arkansas Climbers Coalition and the Access Fund updated official state rules and regulations to protect climbing on public land and wrote conservation and recreation easements to solidify the sport’s place in some private spaces.
A conservation easement is a voluntary, legal agreement that permanently limits the uses of the land in order to protect its conservation values. They often include permitting recreational activities like biking and climbing.
However, every crag in the state doesn’t follow the same story. Jamestown Crag, north of Batesville, is such an example of a place created through compromise and a shared love of the outdoors.
“Yeah, I mean, Jamestown was always a place that you know, as, as young adults, we were, I guess, trespassing.”
That’s Landon Downing. He’s one of the Nomads:
“Just a group of friends, outdoor enthusiasts that kind of have a common passion for adventure, outdoor recreation, really as a whole. But also stewardship programming and conservation initiatives.”
The Nomads include Downing, along with the Christopher brothers: Nathan, Aaron and Kyle, and Luke Reed.
Downing said they’ve worked as a team to be the guardians of the crag for nearly a decade, but the Jamestown story begins long before that. Downing said renegade climbers named the area after nearby Jamestown Mountain nearly fifty years ago.
"There was a guy out there as early as, like, the 70s, I guess, a guy named Mark Moblie. And I'm sure there were some others. But Mark Moblie had been out there, really kind of spearheading the renegade operation for years. Bolting and just, you know, had had a bunch of sport routes already bolted. So he was kind of integral once the purchase happened."
The purchase he’s referring to happened in 2013.
“The Green Bay packaging owned the land that was and is the area of Jamestown crag.”
That’s a pulp and paper company based out of Wisconsin. They own swaths of land across the country for growing trees to then cut down and use to make paper.
"They've planted loblolly pines throughout the state for decades, and Independence County area, they have several 1000 acres. And when they came in the area in about 2011-12 to do a clear cut of some fields that they haven't tended to, you know, in decades. They're like, 'Holy crap. There's a huge liability here with climbing going on.' Some of their workers, you know, probably phoned back and said, you know, 'Hey boss, there's people out here climbing,' and so their kind of status quo was to work with the Game and Fish on some of the lands that they may, you know, be maybe letting sit for a long time and work with them to have like some kind of control like in a WMA since like a wildlife management area, right? And so Game and Fish, if you'll look on maps of the property like Game and Fish owns a lot of the area around Jamestown crag, but Green Bay packaging owns the vast majority. Anyhow, they kind of went up and told Game and Fish to really patrol the area, to keep the gate locked, not let anybody else in there.”
Climbing on private land without permission creates multiple problems. For one, if a climber falls and hurts themselves, the landowner could be held responsible. More importantly, being on land that is not yours without permission is illegal. Climbers could face criminal penalties for trespassing, including fines and even jail time.
But the Nomads weren’t just going to give up their favorite climbing spot. “Why should we?” they thought. The sandstone bluff line rises up to 90 feet and holds a wide variety of climbing routes, making it one of the most diverse and unique crags in the state. So, the Christopher brothers started reaching out to Green Bay Packaging to work out a deal.
"So kind of how that all came about: Kyle, the younger brother, and myself, we were both at Lyon College at the time. And then kind of Kyle getting help with the outdoor program leader there at Lyon College. His name was Scott Dirksen. It's kind of a collaborative effort, but they ended up just getting a hold of the right people at Green Bay and kind of just tell him telling the story. From a college perspective, I've got two other brothers. I wasn't in the equation at all at that point in time. So you know, from a college perspective, you got to have two other brothers, the three of them, you know, we're willing to make the investment if Green Bay would be willing to section off at least the bluff line from their property. And, you know, the desire was just to maintain access for generations to come, you know, like, we recognize the liability that was on Green Bay kind of operating that, that that area and for them, they, they had to keep the gates locked and keep it shut off. So, you know, 'Hey, we're local, we're kind of into this sport, we love outdoor recreation, we love the community that it brings in and think that we can, you know, manage that sustainably and, and be good stewards.'"
The Nomads wanted to impress upon the company that this was not a business venture: They weren’t looking to make money. They just wanted to open up the crag to other climbers and preserve the area’s scenic beauty.
"Those guys at Green Bay kind of just heard the brothers out and understood that there's believed and really heard the vision and believe that it was going to be a good deal. And maybe there might have been a little trepidation, but nonetheless, they sent out a guy with a backpack GPS, and again, they just clear-cut this property so they're refreshed fire breaks and all kind of bulldozed around the edge of the property. And they pretty much walked the edge of those fire breaks all the way around the top side of the bluff and then down the crag, you know, in towards the creek below and sectioned off several acres that had to go back and look at the actually owned acreage and can follow up with details on that with you. And that was like the first initial purchase. They're like, 'Hey, we want to know, you've got a gate, you got the road coming back in here, you know, the gate and stuff is still ours, the land around us is still ours, but you're you know for all your climbing and whatever you want at the campsite area you know y'all can y'all can have this land for X amount of dollars.'"
Fast forward a few years, and Jamestown Crag has become a destination for climbers across the South and Midwest. The Nomads were able to link up with veteran climbers of the area like Moblie and expose themselves to every climbable route the area has to offer.
Volunteers have further developed the land to include parking, primitive campsites and sustainable hiking trails linking the sites to the cliffline. They even have an annual climbing competition called “King of the Crag.”
Downing said the amenities are free to use. The only funding comes from the competition, the Nomads themselves, and a small bucket nailed to a tree labeled, “Suggested donation: three to camp, five to climb.”
"We've only in the last couple of years had social media in our local community, like even the City Chamber, we really haven't leaned on them to publicize it or push it as like a county entity or county asset. Again, it's privately owned, but in large part, that was almost our method of sustainability and maintenance to like let those that know, know, and let that community that is like a Leave No Trace community, that is like a love nature community, let them share it with others and bring others, and you know, the community has just kind of grown organically, so that said, you know, it's always just been a labor of love from us from The Nomads you know, again the Christopher brothers the three of them have been active in a mortgage and literally paid for the property you know, and then everything outside of that has been you know the sweat and everything else from friends and from them and the little bit of money that comes in every year from the King of the Crag goes right back to bolting equipment."
Though they weren’t sure where they’d land, Downing said the Nomad’s honesty and passion led them down the right path. By clearly communicating their wishes to Green Bay Packaging, the Christopher brothers were able to gain their trust and protect an area that would grow into a rendezvous for climbers across the country.
For more information about Jamestown, the Nomads and the greater Batesville area, visit jamestowncrag.com.
