Gypsy Kitchen: Brittany Griffith

The Samburu goat herder broke a branch from a cedar tree, near the basecamp where Brittany Griffith and three other American climbers were staying. The Americans had come to establish what ended up becoming 100 Percent Not Losing (IV 5.13; 1,400 feet), on the southeast face of Kenya’s Mount Olowoke. Griffith stirred a pot of jambalaya, red beans, and rice for her partners and the herder. Unsatisfied with her cutlery, she communicated to the tribesman and fixer that she needed a spatula, using hand gestures, laughter, and her three words of Swahili. The goat herder took a piece of cedar, whittled it down, and then presented the petite “gypsy” with a carved spoon, one that she still to prepare meals at her home in Salt Lake City, Utah. For Griffith, traveling, climbing, and cooking have allowed her to connect with people the world over.

Brittany working Fall of Man (5.13b) at the VRG.

The 5’3” Brittany Anne Griffith, or “BAG,” has been ubiquitous on the world climbing circuit for the past two decades. Now 48, she’s climbed 5.12 in over 50 countries, including Algeria, Korea, and Cuba. From sending Smith Rock’s Oxygen (5.13b) and The Backbone (5.13a), to the 120-foot crack Trail of Tears, a 5.13b in Lake Powell, Utah, to freeing Moonlight Buttress (V 5.12d) in Zion National Park, to her first ascents of 10 Pounds of Tequila (VI 5.12+) in Venezuela, Battling Begonias (V 5.12) in Yemen, and Cracker Pterodactyl 5000 (V 5.10) in Oman, Griffith is one of the most well-traveled adventure climbers in the world. Many would consider Griffith a renaissance woman not only for her climbing ability but also her black belt in tae-kwon do, competitive mountain-biking career, and, most importantly, her culinary skills. Griffith’s self-described “Gypsy Kitchen” cooking style involves using available ingredients to produce food that brings together people across different cultures.

Brittany going for the ride on Fall of Man aka Fall of BAG

“I was outside as much as I could be,” says Griffith of her childhood in Ames, Iowa, an agricultural town of 50,000 people 20 miles north of Des Moines. The oldest of four siblings, Griffith grew up independent. Her mom, a nurse, remarried three times, and Griffith often babysat her younger siblings. When Griffith was six, her mom bought her an Easy-Bake Oven; Griffith cooked the seven pre-packaged meals in a week and from there started making her own recipes. At age 12, she prepared the family’s Thanksgiving turkey. Griffith and her adolescent friends would trek through the cornfields to their Bridge to Terabithia–style camp next to the Skunk River where they would build cooking fires. In high school, Griffith played basketball and softball, and ran track. Later, in college, she earned a black belt in tae-kwon do—and caught the travel bug. While studying at Iowa State University in Ames, Griffith studied abroad in London, England. “That was mind-blowing,” says Griffith, who traveled to eight different European countries in four months. Initially, Griffith felt overwhelmed. She washed her hair in the sink to avoid interactions at the communal bathrooms in youth hostels. But by the end of the trip, she became comfortable. “I knew that I wanted to travel. I just didn’t know how I would do it,” she recalls. “I’m super intimidated by anything different.”

In 1994, after college, Griffith’s then boyfriend asked if she wanted to go on a climbing road trip. She’d never been climbing but the idea of travelling appealed to her. On the drive from Iowa to Vedauwoo, Griffith read John Long’s book How to Rock Climb! She learned to tie a figure-8 and equalize an anchor before ever touching rock. She climbed in Poudre Canyon, Colorado, the City of Rocks, Idaho, and Little Cottonwood Canyon, Utah before ending up in Bend, Oregon. Low on money, Griffith worked at a gymnastics gym in Bend, teaching tae-kwon do. When her boyfriend wanted to buy a house and stay in Bend, Griffith hit the road.

For the next few years, Griffith followed the 1990s sport-climbing circuit, going to Rifle, Smith Rock, the Virgin River Gorge, and Buoux, France. In 2001, she spent a year racing downhill mountain bikes at a professional level, ranking twelfth with the National Off Road Biking Association and racing a couple world cups. To her mind, she was better at biking than climbing. “I’m not a very talented climber,” Griffith says. “I’m brave and like adventure. That’s really the only thing.” While Griffith certainly doesn’t have the strongest fingers, her courage and passion make her an exceptionally talented climber, going up on leads where others would back down. In 2016, she and I worked the notoriously runout Fall of Man at the Virgin River Gorge. Where I toproped, she climbed above the bolts, taking enormous falls, always going for it.

Despite her aptitude at mountain biking, Griffith returned to climbing. She painted houses. She babysat. She worked odd jobs, living out of an RV with her then boyfriend, Joe Brooks. “I just wanted to work so I could pay for the next tank of gas in the RV or the next flight to Paris,” she says.

During that period, she went to Outdoor Retailer where she met representatives at Five Ten. She transitioned into helping build trade-show booths and driving Five Ten’s rental truck to the trade show—her first industry jobs. “I never had the approach of ‘What can you do for me?’ It was always ‘What can I do for you?’” says Griffith. That attitude helped her transition to work with Patagonia, where, since 1999, she has helped produce the Rhythm climbing line and worked as an event coordinator, visual merchandiser, catalogue copywriter, and product tester.  

When she broke up with Brooks, she bought a car for $500 in the Smith Rock parking lot from a German. She dropped off the climber at the airport and made new curtains for the 1985 Ford station wagon, her home base for the next few years.

Brittany running some laps on the flared section of the crux pitch on Moonlight Buttress (5.12d)

In 2013, Griffith, Andrew Burr, and her then husband Jonathan Thesenga traveled to the Socotra Islands off Yemen. Here, Griffith made one of her proudest first ascents, Battling Begonias (V 5.12), in the Haggier Mountains. Often on trips, her partners had led the charge. But on this trip, Griffith felt more compelled to take the reins after spending two days amidst the political unrest of Saana. “You feel like someone could just grab you, and no one would ever know or care or do anything about it,” she says. When the team had left Saana, they’d hired a fisherman to take them deep-water soloing. After they finished climbing, the fisherman sold his catch to another vessel. The other vessel’s fishermen didn’t like being photographed by Burr and started firing shots. The fisherman jumped on Griffith to protect her. “Nothing in climbing could scare me more,” she recalls. So, at the base of the rock, she told her partners, “Let’s do it.” At the crux corner, three pitches up, her partners shied way from the lead. Griffith grabbed the rack and led the team up a continuous 5.12 finger-crack dihedral, a 5.11 double-crack pitch, and then a runout 5.10 pitch to the top. “I just wanted to feel not scared,” Griffith says. She found comfort on the rock. Her ability to not only climb well and get the rope up anything but to deal with stressful situations make her an ideal climbing partner.

“She’s my favorite international climbing partner,” says Kate Rutherford, who met Griffith in Yangshuo, China, during a 2008 climbing festival. The pair has climbed across the world, entering in the Croatian International Climber Festival’s Big Wall Speed Climbing contest, where they raced up a 130-meter limestone 5.10 in 12 minutes. They established 100 Percent Not Losing together with Thesenga and Eric Bissel, and have climbed domestically on The Venturi Effect (V 5.12c) on the Sierra’s Incredible Hulk. While establishing Ten Pounds of Tequila, with Rutherford, Thesenga, and Mikey Schaefer, Griffith brought 10 pounds of tequila to Venezuela so the team could drink Gatorhitas cocktails (tequila and Gatorade) with freshly scavenged citrus fruits. It was a welcome treat while they labored to establish their 1,100-foot route up Acopan Tepui over eight days. Earlier this year, the two traveled to Torres Del Paine to climb. However, rain forced them to hide in the Japanese Camp. For Rutherford, Griffith’s cooking made the grim weather bearable. “She can make ramen and tuna taste gourmet,” Rutherford says. While rain and snow pounded the mountains, Griffith made coconut sardine Thai stew served over rice, garnished with the fresh mint and oregano she’d packed in.

“She takes whatever is available and makes a dish out of it,” Salt Lake city climber Steve Maisch says. “You’ll have a bunch of random things, leftovers from the previous night and a can of something, and she’ll make a good meal out of it,” During a 2016 summer trip to Rocklands, Griffith prepped an English Breakfast of eggs, beans, and bacon for Maisch and the other boulderers she was staying with. At night, they ate steak and stuffed gem squash, which she’s since started growing in her backyard. “It’s a genuine way for me to express emotion,” says Griffith of cooking for her fellow climbers. “It’s a way I can care for people.” Perhaps it goes back to looking after her younger siblings in Iowa.

“Climbing is everything: it’s my job, it’s my exercise, it’s my community, it’s my lifestyle,” says Griffith. “But food is my passion.” While many climbers want to tick harder grades, Griffith’s goals include putting together a “Gypsy Kitchen” cookbook. So far she has a few chaptes, and is writing a hundred words a day. Her writing explores the relationship between climbing, traveling, cooking, and how people connect. “You can cook an onion and a potato with someone and have a meaningful experience,” she says.

Brittany of the crux pitch of Moonlight Buttress (5.12d)

In 2011, Griffith traveled to Zion National Park to free Moonlight Buttress. Unfortunately, her partner caught food poisoning. I’d been trying the route as well, and Griffith texted me. The next morning, Griffith stripped to her underwear and I followed her across the Virgin River to the route. On the crux pitch, while liebacking, I whipped with the rope behind my leg and fell upside down, biting my lip hard enough to bleed.

“You got it,” Griffith said, encouraging me to try again. I fired the pitch next go and Griffith followed cleanly. Higher, we reached a ledge where she told me about her life in Iowa, her climbing, and her passion for adventure. She then fired through a pitch of 5.12 ring locks, wrapping up the difficulties. We soon stood on the summit. After our first day of climbing together, Griffith and I went to Springdale, just outside the park, and drank margaritas. She assured me that she made better ones at home.

 Over the next six years, I would stop by Griffith’s house to bake a pie for a trade-show party or do a tabata workout next to her garden. Within five minutes of arriving, I’d be lifting her orange tree onto a skateboard to move it outside, or julienning carrots or grilling meatballs for a catering event, which she does a half-dozen times a year. Once, I even offered to mow her lawn—but then I broke the mower. Living out of my car at the time, I felt concerned about the cost of repairs. Griffith shrugged off the damages and made me a sandwich. It was incredible: Two pieces of freshly cooked bread (she learned how to bake bread in the sand in Algeria), deli meat, and fresh vegetables from her garden. A simple sandwich, but full of goodness and flavor. While the fresh, high-quality ingredients helped, it was Griffith’s preparation that made the sandwich special. As she says, “When I cook for someone, it’s always with affection.”

First published in Climbing 356