I found a copy of Ascent with an article by Tom Higgins I read 30 years ago. It cost $2 at a thrift store in Placerville.
Here is an excerpt.
"I know the climb I just did seems ludicrous, Captain, but not all climbing is like this. Some of it is pure gymnastic delight in pristine places, such as certain routes over knobby granite in the high mountains of California. However, there is other climbing which, as with any strenuous adventure, makes you buzz with why, what, and where you are. You mapped the coast of California. The climber of a new route weaves like a vessel, watching heading, hoping for better rock sometimes keyed by color, white and pink being the most dangerous. As explorer, the climber is astonished and fascinated by a big mossy patch, a pocket of clicking, whirring bats, or a strong scent of foreign urines. And as climber, there is some kind of sensational ricochet in feeling fearful and stupid, then elated and accomplished at having navigated through yet another vertical assemblage of strange and untouched stones.
"Perhaps," I continue, " such climbing is a pleasure reserved for those a little jaded by the deluxe routes of great centers for the sport. Is it possible that the very grandeur of the best walls and consequent chain of ascents can cause one to turn away? Imagine, Vancouver a long and lovely flake of rock shaped like your boot there, seemingly glued high on a shimmering, 3000-foot granite cliff. And great roofs and towers, all eventually connected by a marvelous climbing roue. Do you see how even this might become dull from the doing? Where the elation, once so private, becomes so common, so implanted in a growing collective that the hearts becomes a little tired and sad from it all? It is then that we turn to darker jewels--elusive, out of fashion, even fragile--as if in search of anti-climbs."
