From a DIY Garage Build to a Twice-Weekly Climbing Ritual
By Marissa Neely & Collin Baker
No, “crack night” isn’t what you think. At Collin Baker’s house in San Diego, the only highs come from jamming fingers, fists, and sometimes entire arms into wooden seams on a homemade roof crack trainer. What started as a DIY project in his garage has grown into something much bigger — a twice-weekly gathering where friends push themselves physically, cheer each other on, and share a beer while swapping stories.
It’s a return to something rare these days: real people doing real things together, with no screen between them. And it’s proof that sometimes, the best way to climb higher is to build from the ground up. 
Old Friends, New Stoke Through Shared Suffering
I first met Collin when we were kids snowboarding at my home mountain, China Peak. We were about 12 or 13, adrenaline junkies who couldn’t get enough of chasing powder and pushing limits. Later, we ended up at snowboard camp at High Cascade, feeding off each other’s energy as we learned new tricks and celebrated sketchy landings.
Though we drifted geographically, we never lost touch. Social media kept us connected, cheering each other on with likes and the occasional “hell yeah” text. Years later, when I started climbing, it felt like déjà vu: there was Collin again, stoking the fire, sharing beta, and pulling me deeper into a new passion.
Just like snowboarding, climbing wasn’t just about the moves — it was about having someone who understood why the suffering and the send were equally worth celebrating.
Finding Climbing Later and Going All In
Collin didn’t grow up climbing, but the spark was lit in college. At San Diego State University in 2015, he spent hours grinding away in the cardio section of the gym — which, conveniently, was right next to the climbing wall. While his treadmill kept him sweating, it was the climbers who kept him curious.
“I watched people getting just as good of a workout as me — but they were laughing, solving problems, having fun,” he remembers. By January 2016, he signed up for a beginner climbing class and never looked back.
With an engineer’s mind and an athlete’s drive, Collin quickly grew roots in the climbing world. He joined the SDSU Climbing Club, exploring classics across the West: Joshua Tree, Bishop, Yosemite, Red Rock, Zion, Joe’s Valley. But his heart belongs to the Eastern Sierra, where he’s hauled 60-pound packs into the backcountry for long routes like the West Ridge of Mt. Conness — 1,500 feet of granite and one unforgettable night bushwhacking back to camp under the stars.
“Soloing with a thousand feet of air under your right ass cheek really gets the blood pumping,” he jokes. That mix of adventure, risk, and raw reward is what keeps him coming back.
Engineering a Roof Crack Trainer That Actually Works
The CrackHouse was born during the pandemic. Collin, ever the tinkerer, studied engineering at San Diego State and has the kind of brain that looks at a problem and thinks: I could build a better version of that. Inspired by Mary Eden (@tradprincess) and her lockdown training videos, he and his roommate Vishal designed a roof crack trainer in their garage in 2022.
The first version was simple, scrappy, and functional. Friends came over, got worked, and went home sore but stoked. But as Collin’s engineering instincts kicked in, the trainer evolved. In 2024 they stripped it down and rebuilt it with lateral supports to reduce sway, threaded rods for adjustability, and a modular design that allows them to swap crack widths every few months.
The result? A trainer that doesn’t just mimic outdoor cracks — it challenges climbers with custom sequences and evolving problems, making every session fresh.
Why Crack Night Became More Than Training
At first, it was just a handful of friends. But as word spread, “crack night” became something bigger: a ritual. Twice a week, the garage transforms into a climbing gym, a social club, and sometimes a comedy show. There’s chalk dust in the air, laughter between burns, and always a cold beer waiting when your forearms give out.
“My favorite part of crack night is the community,” Collin says. “The garage has become this reliable meeting ground — people come and go, but the vibe is always supportive, stoked, and a little ridiculous.”
The cast of characters is as diverse as the crack sizes: Pip, the musician with finger strength to match her guitar skills; Nicholas, founder of Climbing for the Community, whose big heart rivals his bear hugs; Billy, who moved across the country with nothing but a motorcycle and had never climbed until he stuck his mitts into the trainer. Each person brings their own flavor, and together they’ve built something bigger than just climbing.
In a world where most of our interactions happen behind a screen, gatherings like this feel revolutionary. No subscriptions, no notifications, no algorithms. Just friends sweating, laughing, and learning together. It’s proof that sports thrive when they’re shared — that keeping people grounded sometimes requires hanging them upside down on a wooden roof.
Real Community in a Chalky, Screen-Free Garage
After running twice-weekly for nearly two years, the CrackHouse is stacked with stories. But one stands out: the night Vishal sent the “1-2-3-4” project. Starting with the tiniest crack and working through every size up to heinous pony stacks, it’s 48 feet of pure misery and mastery. “Watching him finally link it all together was insane,” Collin says. “That’s the kind of thing that makes the garage erupt.”
The record still stands at 10 laps of perfect hands — 120 feet of inverted climbing that would leave most mortals wrecked for weeks.
Climbers often talk about community, but what Collin has built is the embodiment of it. For newcomers, it’s a safe space to get humbled, learn, and laugh at themselves. For veterans, it’s a place to push, train, and remember why they fell in love with climbing in the first place.
“The climbing community is absolutely kick-ass,” Collin says. “If you’re stoked, people will meet you there. Find folks who share your goals, and don’t be afraid to say hello. Climbers want to lift each other up — even if that means taping your wrists first.”
Advice & Final Beta
Collin’s advice to new climbers is simple: “Climb. Nothing else will teach you the body awareness you need. And when you plateau, don’t quit — change styles, change focus, keep it fun.”
His advice to the rest of us? Put down the phone, grab your friends, and build something tangible. “You don’t need a fancy gym or perfect conditions,” he says. “You just need people, a little creativity, and a willingness to suffer a bit together. That’s where the magic happens.”
So whether you’re a seasoned dirtbag or just crack-curious, the CrackHouse door is open. Follow along at @cbake9876 and @crackhouse_4970 — or better yet, grab some tape and a six-pack and join on a Thursday night.
Because sometimes the best antidote to a digital world is a chalky garage full of sweaty friends, doing something real.
