by D. Scott Borden, International Climbers’ Croquet Club Member (photos from the author’s collection)
In a very jolly mood, we skipped our way up to the start of Fine Jade, reaching the base moments before another party. They took one look at our backpacks and left. The rack was heavy and bursting out of it, among the many cams, were battered croquet mallets, faded balls and bent wickets. The other group could see we weren’t here just to climb—we were here to play.
The route delivered. Desert varnish, sun-warmed stone, that glorious final stretch to the summit block. We topped out with wind in our ears and dust in our teeth, grinning. Before water, before snacks, before even a summit photo, we set wickets into the crevice between boulders. Someone took the first swing. The game began, absurd and beautiful. Mallets raised like tools ready to go to work for the harvest, plastic balls clattering against summit stone, laughter echoing off the walls of Castle Valley. Beers at the campsite could wait, the true event had arrived- the international climbers’ croquet club was in full swing.
We gathered again—this time at Looking Glass Rock, North Carolina, a bachelor party with ropes, illicit substances, and a sense of malice. We climbed the airy west side. The groom-to-be helped carry the mallet in his harness like some medieval weapon. At the top, we set the course and took turns sending shots through wickets strategically placed between the roots and trees. If it wasn’t for the mushrooms, I’d say the game was gentlemanlike, but I’m not sure we were fully human. It was one of those rare games where nobody won and yet everybody did.
Winters commonly take us to the frozen landscape of southwest Colorado. At the base of waterfall ice parks, with puffy jackets zipped to the chin, we staked out a game between frozen logs and crevasses. Playing croquet in crampons is a delicate business—hard swings, snow that swallows your ball, and unpredictable terrain. But it works. It turns out an ice tool can be an excellent mallet and crampon points can do a fine job of holding an advisories ball while you “roquet” another player’s ball for additional strokes or strategic placement, sending them flying.
Back at Indian Creek, the Club gathered again. Pre-session coffee before the glorious sound of the ball rolling smoothly over red sand. The more ridiculous the terrain, the better. Afterwards we’d climb until our forearms screamed. Then at dark, with headlamps aglow, we’d play again. Music from a van stereo, someone just lit a wicket on fire (now officially prohibited). Someone else making up new rules on the spot. Everyone disagreeing and consensus coming together once an idea had gained momentum. Desert life is the best life and croquet brings us together to celebrate it.
The Club doesn’t live in one place. It isn’t defined by a region or a grade or a particular style of climbing. It lives wherever climbers remember that the shared absurdity of this experience is the real reason we’re out here. We are not curing cancer, we are curing loneliness.
We meet always and never. Our location is defined by a spontaneous game occurring at any moment at any given time.
The International Climbers’ Croquet Club exists in the spaces between summit and campfire. It’s a club, yes—but not in the traditional sense. There are no dues. No applications. No hierarchy. What we do have are mallets strapped to harnesses, wickets planted in our precious earth, and a deep commitment to play as a community that understands the climbing grades matter less than the people we spend our time with.
We carry croquet gear up mountains and through rivers. We play before the approach, mid-route when possible, and long after the last rappel. Our version of croquet is not something you’ve likely seen on lawns in the suburbs. Ours is woven into what it means to be a climber- improvised, joyful, and adapted to whatever terrain we find ourselves in. The game is constantly evolving, and that’s part of the point.
Some climbing skills are necessary. You’ll need enough sense and strength to reach the game field, whether that’s a summit or a ledge system. But there are no grade requirements, no performance metrics. You don’t even need to know how to play croquet—we’ll teach you.
This is a joke and completely serious. It’s an invitation to recalibrate your relationship with climbing, with community, and with yourself. In an age where everything is performance and showmanship, we offer something quietly radical: a place where joy matters more than grades, and absurdity is honored as a kind of truth.
If you are a subscriber to The Climbing Zine and reach out to us, we will send you an official International Climbers’ Croquet Club member’s card. Some rules (see below) are practical. Some are not. All of them are designed to keep the stoke high.
We are climbers who believe that the spaces between things—the rests, the conversations, the laughter—are where the deeper experiences often happen. We don’t take ourselves too seriously, but we take community seriously. We take joy seriously. We take the value of play seriously.
If that resonates with you, then welcome to the club.
Official House Rules: Climbers’ Croquet
As endorsed by the International Climbers’ Croquet Club
- Creative course design is encouraged:
- Build jumps, barriers, ramps, or absurd angles using moveable materials like rocks, sticks, or snow.
- Make it weird. Make it fun. Creativity > competition.
- Standard croquet rules apply:
- Take turns hitting your ball through a series of wickets in the correct order and direction.
- You can use the mallet however you want (ordinal hits, flicks, pushes, pool cue, etc.)
- Take one extra stroke for each wicket or stake hit.
- You may “roquet” (hit) another player’s ball for additional strokes or strategic placement.
- Last player to strike the final stake wins.
- Order of play is determined by the colors on the stakes- top color goes first and bottom goes last.
- No grooming of terrain allowed:
- Do not flatten, clear, or modify natural terrain to gain advantage.
- Play the course as it lies. Respect native vegetation and cryptobiotic soil.
- All obstacles must be removed after play:
- Leave No Trace is sacred. Every wicket, stake, log, and funky feature must be packed out or returned to its natural resting place.
- No lighting things on fire:
- Yes, this used to be a thing. No longer allowed.
- Respect the land and all life upon it:
- Do not disturb wildlife, trample sensitive areas, or disrespect cultural/historic landmarks.
- Disagreements are resolved by consensus:
- No referees. No egos. Laugh. Decide together.
- If consensus cannot be reached, RO-SHAM-BO.
- Croquet is secondary to safety:
- Don’t endanger yourself or others for a game. No swinging mallets while belaying, no cliff-edge wickets unless fully secured or balls falling off cliffs.
- No grade chasing, no gatekeeping:
- This game is for everyone who wants to play, regardless of climbing ability, croquet experience, or any other silly way we ‘other’ people.
- Play often, play lightly, play together:
- The real goal isn’t to win. It’s to connect, to laugh, to play as protest against the seriousness of life and the loneliness of individualism.
- Invent your own rules:
- The organic evolution of the game is inherent in its existence and purpose. Have fun.
D Scott Borden is a Senior Contributor to The Climbing Zine, and author of our climbing children’s book: Squeak Goes Climbing in Yosemite National Park.
