The American Alpine Club Announces 2025 Cutting Edge Grant Winners

PC: Nelson Neirinck

March 2025

The American Alpine Club and Black Diamond Equipment are pleased to announce the 2025 Cutting Edge Grant recipients. The Cutting Edge Grant continues the Club's 120-year tradition by funding individuals planning expeditions to remote areas featuring unexplored mountain ranges, unclimbed peaks, difficult new routes, first-free ascents, or similar world-class pursuits. Five teams have been awarded a total of $25,000 for this cycle, with objectives featuring a low-impact style and leave-no-trace mentality looked upon with favor. Black Diamond Equipment is a proud sponsor of the Cutting Edge Grant and a key partner in supporting cutting-edge alpinism.

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Kishtwar Shivling. 2023. PC: Vitaliy Musiyenko

Vitaliy Musiyenko will be awarded $6,000 to attempt a new route on the southwest aspect of Kishtwar Shivling (6,000m), located in the Indian Himalayas. The mountain's main summit has only been reached once; the east summit was climbed in 2014, and the east pillar was climbed in 2015. Vitaliy Musiyenko will be attempting the route with Sean McLane. If they have enough time and energy in the tank, they hope to attempt another, unclimbed mountain with a similar altitude in the area.

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Michael Hutchins

Michael Hutchins will be awarded $6,000 to attempt the southwest face of Rimo lll (7233m), an unclimbed 1600m face in the eastern Karakoram of India. Hutchins and Chris Wright discovered this objective because Wright caught a glimpse of the Rimo peaks after an expedition in 2012. Stefano Ragazzo will join them on their expedition. The team of three are all mountain guides with extensive climbing experience: Ragazzo recently rope-soloed Eternal Flame on Nameless Tower in Pakistan; Wright received the Piolet d'Or in 2020 for his team's ascent of Link Sar; and Hutchins has climbed six of seven major peaks in the Fitz Roy massif.

Stefano Ragazzo

Chris Wright

 The SW Face of Rimo III

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Tad McCrea. PC: Tad McCrea

Tad McCrea will be awarded $4,000 to attempt the southeast pillar of Latok lll (6,949 meters) from the Choktoi Glacier. Latok III has never been climbed from the Choktoi glacier but was summited from the west face in 2011. The expedition team will include Jon Giffin and Thomas Huber. The three climbers attempted the proposed route in 2024 but had to descend before bad weather moved in.

The Team: Thomas Huber, Tad McCrea, and Jon Griffin atop Cerro Chalten (Fitz Roy) 2024. PC: Tad McCrea

Thomas Huber. PC: Tad McCrea

Jon Griffin. PC: Tad McCrea

Latok III from Choktoi. PC: Tad McCrea

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Zach Lovell. PC: Carrie Mueller

Zach Lovell will be awarded $4,000 to attempt a new route on Dorje Lhakpa (6966m), located in the Jugal Himal, about 55 kilometers northeast of Kathmandu. Japhy Dhungana and Joseph Hobby will join Lovell on this expedition, which will involve over 1,000 meters of technical climbing from 5900 to 6900 meters. Dhungana and Lovell did their first new route in the alpine together in Nepal several years ago and are looking forward to another adventure in Dhungana's home country. Hobby and Lovell have also spent countless days climbing and skiing together, from the contiguous U.S. to Alaska. Lovell is honored to call both of them some of his closest friends and looks forward to spending time together as a team of three.

Japhy Dhungana. PC: Cary Jobe

Joseph Hobby. PC: Millet

Dorje Lhakpa overview. PC: Nikonphotog

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Ethan Berman negotiating a short mixed step low down on Ultar Sar in 2024. PC: Maarten van Haeren

Ethan Berman will be awarded $5,000 to attempt the southeast "hidden" pillar of Ultar Sar (7388 m), located in the Karakoram Range of Pakistan. The route is a striking 3000m line, with the lower half of the route consisting of 1500m of steep snow and ice climbing with a couple of mixed steps, and the upper half consisting of a 1500m stunning rock pillar that cuts a line through the sky all the way to the summit. Maarten van Haeren, Sebastian Pelletti, and Berman attempted the route in the spring of 2024, reaching a hanging glacier at 6000m before turning around due to dangerous snow conditions. They made three attempts total, each time climbing a bit higher while learning how to move safely through the complexities of the route. They are fired up to return to Pakistan with the support of the Cutting Edge Grant and hope to apply all that they learned last year to increase their chances of success.

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Sebastian Pelletti stops to admire Ultar Sar (7388m) while approaching the base of the mountain. PC: Ethan Berman

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Maarten van Haeren (left) and Sebastian Pelletti in a snow couloir on Ultar Sar during their attempt in 2024. PC: Ethan Berman

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Ethan Berman swinging his legs to keep blood flowing to the toes while at a crevasse bivy while acclimatizing in Pakistan in 2024. PC: Maarten van Haeren

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Back to front: Ethan, Maarten, and Sebastian test their custom 3-man sleeping bag made by Grade VII Equipment. PC: Nathan Kukathas

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Applications for the Cutting Edge Grant are accepted each year from October 1 through November 30.

Contact:

Berkeley Anderson, Foundation and Grants Coordinator: banderson@americanalpineclub.org

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Your Quarterly Message From AAC Leadership

Originally published in Guidebook XIII

Dear AAC Members,

Thank you for taking the time to dive into this second edition of the AAC’s quarterly Guidebook. A lot of things are changing at the AAC, and we are energized by the new opportunities that these changes afford. We are re-envisioning our measurable impact and excited to further support our members in a way only the AAC can.

AAC Board President Nina Williams nearing the end of her quest up The Air Up There (V7) in Bishop, California. Photo by AAC member Eric Fallecker.

This Guidebook is just that—your guide to the work that you make possible through your membership. When you read these stories— from celebrating volunteers like Maurice Chen, who is bringing our much-beloved Accidents in North American Climbing to international audiences (which you can read about in “Found in Translation”), or the shattering finding of member Eric Gilbertson that Rainier’s summit is shrinking ( in “The Height of Mountains”), to all the world-class climbing you can find at our cozy lodging facility at the New River Gorge, as well as the profound impact our grants program has on our members (as seen in “Sea to Summit” and “Life: An Objective Hazard”)—you’re seeing the AAC’s mission at work: the advancement of knowledge, inspiration, and advocacy.

While we’re excited to share these stories with you, there is also a lot going on behind the scenes that hasn’t made it into a full-fledged story yet. Many of these happenings you can find highlighted in our “AAC Updates” section that follows. As we kick off this new year, we are also excited about ongoing projects that will shape the future of the AAC, like developing a new website, which will make it easier for our members to take advantage of their benefits.

Finally, I want to take a moment to celebrate the impressive advocacy success that the AAC helped make possible at the end of 2024. The unanimous passage of the EXPLORE Act is a historic moment for recreationists, and as law, it will significantly expand access to our nation’s public lands and protect climbing in our beloved Wilderness areas. In December, the National Park Service also announced that they are discontinuing their proposed fixed anchor guidance; the AAC thanks the NPS for sensing the need to reevaluate the proposed regulations and looks forward to collaborating with them in the future on fixed anchor guidance. Looking forward, we are equipped to adapt our tactics to future challenges in order to advocate for the needs of our members, and all climbers.

At the AAC, we’re pulled together by our passion for climbing, and that passion is woven throughout these pages. Our expansive grants, affordable lodging, significant research findings, impactful advocacy work, and more are only possible because of your membership, donations, and commitment to climbing.

Nina Williams

AAC Board President

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AAC Updates

Operations and Governance

• We recently signed a one-year lease agreement to remain in the American Mountaineering Center, and the team worked to relocate offices within the building in November of 2024.

• We are thrilled to welcome Melanie Hood, John Lee, Howard Lukens, and Peter Walle to the AAC Board of Directors!

Lodging

• We’re excited to announce the renewal of our partnership with Grand Teton National Park, ensuring the Grand Teton Climbers’ Ranch continues to provide affordable lodging and a welcoming base camp for climbers and outdoor enthusiasts in the Tetons.

• We’re also pleased to have secured a ten-year operating agreement extension for the Gunks Campground from the Palisades Interstate Park Commission, in partnership with the Mohonk Preserve.

Advocacy

• In partnership with Yosemite Conservancy and the Yosemite National Park climbing rangers, we recently released Vertical Wild: The Wilderness Climbing Experience on El Cap. This film highlights a wilderness climbing experience on El Cap and details the history of how climbing in Yosemite National Park originally became designated Wilderness. Watch it and learn more at americanalpineclub.org/yosemite.

• The AAC advocacy team and our partners at the AMGA and Access Fund spent the first week of December meeting legislative staffers to discuss potential vehicles for passage of the EXPLORE Act. Thanks to the multi-year effort of our team and the work of our many partners, the EXPLORE Act passed and was signed into law! This is a historic recreation package and a major win for climbers.

• Congratulations to AAC representative JoAnne Carilli-Stevenson, who has been named Chair of the recently created UIAA World Ice Climbing Board. In addition to supporting the 2024–2025 UIAA Ice Climbing World Tour, the board is tasked with helping progress the sport in the areas of event management, rules and regulations, the training of officials, developing the sport for the Olympic Games, and more.

Education

• We have continued collecting oral history interviews for our Legacy Series, interviewing climbing icons Renny Jackson, Bill Briggs, Alan Watts, Jim Karn, Greg Lowe, and Mark Wilford. Our Legacy Series film about Jamie Logan premiered at the Kendal Mountain Festival, and you can watch it on the AAC’s YouTube page.

• The AAC Library and American Mountaineering Museum were closed effective September 20. Since then, we have secured all assets and are working to identify long-term solutions for this one-of- a-kind resource. Library staff are focusing on inventory and cataloging. Some materials will be relocated to the University of Denver’s off-site storage facility, while others remain on-site for greater attention from Library staff. We continue to prioritize serving our members through book circulation and research support.

• Watch for our new videos from The Prescription, our monthly delivery of digital content from Accidents in North American Climbing. With these videos, we’re dramatically expanding the reach and impact of this critical educational resource.

• We’ve reenvisioned our beloved podcast, The Cutting Edge. The revamped format leverages the AAC Library, AAJ archives, and Legacy Series interviews to bring cutting-edge ascents to life and put them in historical context in a way only the AAC can achieve.

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Sea to Summit

Bristol Bay to Mendenhall Towers

By Sierra McGivney

Photos by Jessica Anaruk

Originally published in Guidebook XIII

Jessica Anaruk and Micah Tedeschi spent the short summer season of Alaska on separate drift boats for sockeye salmon. Their days were long and filled with hours of manual labor, setting the net on the ocean and picking fish. It was not uncommon for Anaruk to work 16 hours and get around three to four hours of sleep most nights—her captain was an aggressive fisher. But at the end of their season, they were trading in their XTRATUF boots for climbing shoes and, powered by the AAC’s Catalyst Grant, heading to the big walls of the Mendenhall Towers, seven granite towers that rise high above the surrounding Mendenhall Glacier in southeast Alaska.

Anaruk and Tedeschi met while living in Durango, Colorado. A 24-hour car ride to El Potrero Chico, Mexico, with mutual friends solidified their friendship. After a week and a half of climbing on limestone in the desert, the origins of this expedition were born. Tedeschi was intrigued by Anaruk’s experience of commercial fishing in Alaska. Their conversations poured like concrete, solidifying when spoken. They would spend the upcoming summer fishing and then go on a climbing trip afterward. A unique pairing of sea and land.

“My goal throughout my life is to get to know different parts of Alaska, and [in] this season in my life, the mountains of Southeast Alaska are drawing me in. I intend to create a relationship with this part of Alaska that I admire deeply,” wrote Jessica Anaruk in her grant application.

A few summers ago, Anaruk was interning in southeast Alaska. She spent a lot of time on the water gazing at the surrounding mountains, dreaming of climbing on the tall peaks. Her passion for Alaska’s fierce oceans and grand mountains is a deep fire that runs through her.

“I think it’s fun to go to all these different places and to see the vast difference of the mountains ... and just to get to know it more and connect to the land,” said Anaruk.

They embarked on a training trip to the Black Canyon of the Gunnison in May of 2024. Since they would encounter unfamiliar terrain in Alaska, they chose The Scenic Cruise (1,700’, 13 pitches, 5.10d), a route that was longer and more challenging than the routes they planned to climb on the Mendenhall Towers.

After that, their summer at sea began, and there was no climbing in sight.

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Photo by Jessica Anaruk.

Growing up in Akiachak and Anchorage, Alaska, as well as in Oregon, Jessica Anaruk was always on the water. Jessica is Yup’ik from the Akiachak community. Every summer, she and her family returned to their fish camp on a slough of the Kuskokwim River to subsistence fish for salmon, fishing for personal, family, and community consumption.

“Returning to commercial fish[ing] is a way I’m able to express this part of myself while also making an income. I learn something new about the land, the work itself, as well as myself every time I return,” said Anaruk.

In contrast, sometimes climbing feels like being alone at sea. “Being an Indigenous woman in climbing is definitely not something I see very often,” reflected Anaruk.

They fished almost every tide, twice a day. Bristol Bay is home to six major pristine water systems and 31 federally recognized tribes, including the Central Yup’ik, Alutiiq/ Sugpiaq, and Dena’ina. The bay is divided into five management districts; each opens and closes to fishing for periods of time. This allows salmon to lay eggs upriver, repopulat- ing and continuing to thrive so fishing remains sustainable. The district Tedeschi was fishing in would open for 12 hours and then close for another 12 hours, allowing more time to rest and relax.

In contrast, Anaruk’s captain and district allowed for more aggressive fishing. It wasn’t uncommon for Anaruk to work 16-hour days picking and setting the net. Despite the exhausting labor, the early-morning sunrises, the two-hour-long sunsets, and seeing bears roaming the beach keep Anaruk coming back.

“What sustains me is how it continually connects me to my culture, the land, salmon, and people,” said Anaruk.

Physically, commercial fishing doesn’t translate much into climbing beyond picking fish out of the net, which requires hand strength. But the mental aspect prepares you for long, arduous ascents on big walls. During unpredictable weather, the sky spits rain sideways, soaking the boat’s inhabitants while they scramble around picking and setting the net, adapting to any and all conditions.

“You are fishing for long periods of time, and it’s cold, and you’re tired, so I feel like that translates well, on the wall, [where] you’re also tired and cold but also trying to have a good attitude,” said Anaruk.

The long days of midnight sun on the ocean began to shorten, and on August 5, 2024, they walked into the helicopter outfitter. Fifteen minutes after loading the helicopter, they were on the Mendenhall Glacier.

“I think it’s the closest thing to teleportation that exists,” said Tedeschi.

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Photo by Jessica Anaruk.

The helicopter dropped them off at the base of the fifth tower, and their first objective was the South Buttress (1,200’, 10 pitches, IV 5.10a) on the third tower, about a half mile to the west. This was Tedeschi’s first time on a glacier, and Anaruk had limited glacier travel experience. So the Extra Tough Salmon Sisters—their new nickname, inspired by the classic Alaskan boots with fish and octopuses printed on the inside—sat down and got to work on their own glacier travel school. Tedeschi strapped microspikes to his sneakers, the only other shoes he had, since he had come straight from Bristol Bay. Like many expeditions, the pair soon found themselves well aware of the depth of knowledge they didn’t possess. They quickly dove into filling the gap by watching YouTube videos on glacier travel and practicing mock rescue drills.

Along the way, they met Clay, Sam, and Brandon, another group of climbers on the glacier. They warned the Extra Tough Salmon Sisters that the bergschrund at the base of the South Buttress was a bit sketchy. They had just climbed the South Buttress and had broken some of the ice at the base, so conditions were questionable.

This didn’t faze them. The next day, to mitigate the risk, Tedeschi started off by climbing a 5.9 to the left of the main route, and connected it to the first pitch of the South Buttress. The two enjoyed a day of stellar climbing on granite in the Alaskan alpine.

The higher up the two climbed, the better the rock quality was. As expected in the Alaskan alpine, the lower pitches had a fair bit of loose, muddy rock. Not all pitches were 5.10; they ranged from 4th-class terrain to 5.10, so some pitches were more exciting than others. Anaruk loved pitch seven; it was exhilarating for her to be so high up on the tower on a challenging pitch. Tedeschi worked his way through a steep headwall with a splitter crack on one of the last pitches.

Photo by Jessica Anaruk.

“Those upper headwall pitches were absolutely bullet rock, really exposed and just really incredible climbing,” said Tedeschi.

There is no topo for the South Buttress, and the main beta for the route is a limited description on Mountain Project. They spent several hours searching for the 5th-class route to the summit, and once they had found it and summited, they began a very involved series of rappels. By the time they were back on the Mendenhall Glacier, the sun was setting, and they had been en route for 16 hours.

That night, they sat in their tent discussing whether they should do another route tomorrow, and deal with getting only five hours of sleep. They would have to start ahead of another group and be down in time to be picked up by their helicopter.

They heard the other group getting ready in the morning and kicked it into high gear. They packed up camp and hopped on the Solva Buttress (1000’, 10 pitches, IV 5.8). The first section proved scrambly, flowy, and more relaxed than the day before. Halfway through the climb, Tedeschi pulled out gummy worms. A smile spread across Anaruk’s face, despite being worn down and tired. It was the perfect surprise. The day was spent having good conversations, laughing, and moving through fun and easy terrain.

From the summit, the Extra Tough Salmon Sisters looked out at endless glaciers with granite peaks sticking out and the ocean not too far away. Once back on the glacier, they enjoyed Modelos and a charcuterie board while waiting for the helicopter. A deep sense of satisfaction settled in.

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Support This Work—AAC Grants

Today, with up to $100,000 in annual grant awards, the Club continues to support these endeavors and is proud to stand behind the individuals and their projects which seek the betterment of the climbing community and climbing landscapes.

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Photos by Jessica Anaruk.

Alpine climbing is not something Anaruk’s family and community think about. This trip transcended climbing for Anaruk. It was a way to show her family and community that you can make anything happen. Challenging expeditions inspire Anaruk to keep pushing herself.

Anaruk would love to connect with other Indigenous women in the climbing space and usher in more representation within the climbing community. Even though she is not from southeast Alaska, she believes connecting to and protecting the land is extremely valuable, especially doing so through an Indigenous lens. She also believes that climbers should consider consulting the area’s Indigenous communities when making decisions that impact the land they are climbing on.

Tedeschi’s reflection was interwoven with Anaruk’s. Most of Tedeschi’s climbing partners look like him. Anaruk is a skilled, competent climbing partner who brings a different lived experience from Tedeschi.

“I found it to be a cool outlet to express myself too because I am queer, and it’s not something I talk about often within the climbing community. I’m straight passing, so it’s just not a conversation I ever have with my male climbing partners. It was cool to be on the glacier with Jess and just be ourselves,” said Tedeschi.

They brought nail polish and painted their nails on the glacier. It was simple, but they felt they could be unabashedly themselves. They met three women on the Mendenhall Glacier— Keisha, Kaitlin, and Bailey, who had each climbed there many times before—in addition to another women’s team.

“There were more women on the glacier than men that day, and it was cool changing what is considered the norm in these spaces,” said Tedeschi.

Two all-women teams, Tedeschi, a queer man, and Anaruk, an Indigenous woman, were the majority on the glacier, a space that historically hasn’t been full of people like them. For Anaruk and Tedeschi, it was deeply impactful for their expedition to be part of the change they want to see in the climbing community.

It was a trip about reveling: reveling in the endless days Tedeschi and Anaruk spent on Alaska’s ocean, and how those days cascaded into sunsets on top of rock towers and poured into long nights filled with dancing colors.

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Found in Translation

One Man’s Vision to Widen the Collective Knowledge of a Small Island’s Climbing Community

By Holly Yu Tung Chen 

Photos by Shao Ping Weng

Originally published in Guidebook XIII

Across the Pacific, on the small island of Taiwan, climber Maurice Chen received an email from Dougald MacDonald, the Executive Editor of the American Alpine Club. It was July 2024, and the summer air hung as heavy as mist. Attached to the email was a large document: the full version of the 2024 Accidents in North American Climbing (ANAC). Chen called his two colleagues at the Taiwan Outdoor Climbers’ Coalition (TOCC), Matt Robertson and Ta Chi Wang. Together, they began their meticulous work—marking pages, circling terms, and discussing any accident relevant to Taiwanese climbing in obsessive detail. The task ahead would be long and tedious.

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Zy Li on Captain Ahab, Music Hall. Photo by Shao Ping Weng.

Taiwan is an island shaped like a yam, floating between the South and East China Seas. It sits in the shadow of two superpowers, one threatening to occupy it and another half-heartedly protecting it. A young island by geological standards, it was formed by the collision of two tectonic plates. The island is 89 miles wide and 250 miles long, with its eastern half stitched to its western half by a spine of mountain ranges. Among these ranges are 151 peaks taller than 10,000 feet, with the tallest, Jade Mountain, standing just shy of 13,000 feet. Taiwan is a land of sea and sky.

The island’s diverse climate shifts from coastal tide pools to alpine tundra and back to tide pools in less than a hundred miles. Thanks to these rich natural landscapes, the Taiwanese have always embraced outdoor activities such as hiking, mountaineering, diving, biking, surfing, and climbing.

The first mountaineering clubs of Taiwan were formed as early as 1905. Chen and Robertson belonged to Taiwan’s third generation of climbers, Wang to the second. The first generation of Taiwanese climbers were born during the Japanese occupation, and were early-century mountaineers, tackling the many tall peaks with traditional expedition and siege-style strategies.

Mountaineering and hiking gained mainstream attention when a list of a hundred notable mountains was published in 1972, aptly named “Taiwan’s Hundred Mountains.” The serious Taiwanese mountaineer aspired to climb all hundred.

By the late 1970s, mountaineering boots were the go-to climbing shoe, but tales of the Stonemasters had floated across the Pacific. Wang remembers reading an issue of Climbing Magazine that his friends and brought back from the States, but without the internet, information passed slowly. The climbing scene lagged behind the Americans and Europeans by about half a decade. Gradually, Taiwanese climbers began distinguishing rock climbing from mountaineering.

When Chen began climbing in the 1990s, free climbing—primarily trad climbing—was already widespread. By the time Robertson arrived in Taiwan in 2002, sport climbing had just begun to gain traction. In the mid-2010s, the indoor climbing scene boomed, and the number of gyms tripled. Due to the limited real estate in the maze-like Taiwanese cities, most of these facilities were bouldering gyms, which gave rise to the fourth generation of Taiwanese climbers, predominantly boulderers.

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Support Our Work—Accidents in North American Climbing

Published annually since 1948, Accidents in North American Climbing documents the year’s most significant and teachable climbing accidents. Get it annually as an AAC member.

Each membership is critical to the AAC’s work: advocating for climbing access and natural landscapes, offering essential knowledge to the climbing community, and supporting our members with our rescue benefit, discounts, grants and more. 

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Scenery of Long Dong. Photo by Shao Ping Weng.

Chen and Robertson met at Long Dong (meaning “Dragon’s Cave”), a seacliff climbing area on the northern end of the island.

Climbers have compared Long Dong with the Shawangunks in New York or Clear Creek Canyon in Colorado, but Wang waves away those comparisons—it cannot be compared because the serenity of home is an incomparable experience. Seacliffs rise out of the Pacific and waves crash behind the belayer, requiring not only knowledge of the rocks but knowledge of the tides. The lines are short and stout, punchy, getting the grade in less than 50 feet in most places.

This was before the first climbing gym in Taiwan had opened, and the pair collaborated to publish the second bilingual edition of Rock Climbing Taiwan: Sport Climbing & Trad at Long Dong. Robertson had recently ejected from the corporate sphere, trading in neatly pressed suits for a harness and patched-up pants. Chen, enamored with climbing and wishing to contribute to the community, lent Robertson his background in graphic design. Wang, a prolific and early developer of Long Dong, contributed his extensive knowledge of the area’s history, first ascents, and geology to the book.

Around then, Robertson told Chen about the yearly publication of accident reports by the American Alpine Club. Chen was intrigued. Climbing, being an inherently dangerous sport, had its share of accidents in Taiwan, but these incidents were typically managed by individual climbing clubs and were rarely made publicly available. Taiwanese climbers were also conservative about accident details, out of fear of embarrassing the climber or causing further grief to their families. In the age of rapid information sharing and the internet, rumors of accidents frequently made rounds on online climbing forums as people speculated and analyzed the limited information they had. It often devolved into a muddle of misinformation.

According to the TOCC’s records, there have been two fatalities, three severe injuries, and several minor injuries between 2009 and 2020. Chen knew that many climbing accidents are preventable, but only if people can learn from past mistakes. Having read each year’s accident reports cover to cover, Chen began taking stock of how accidents happen and tried to implement prevention measures in his home climbing area of Long Dong. The unique safety problem at Long Dong lies in the interaction between sea salt, containing chloride ions, and steel. Combined with moisture, it significantly speeds up rusting, and several serious accidents have happened as a result of bolt failure. The social trails along the cliffs also present a safety hazard, as gym climbers transitioning to outdoor climbing are less apt at navigating exposed and complicated terrain.

In the decades since Robertson began climbing at Long Dong, two significant rebolting efforts have removed most expansion bolts and glue-ins that are a decade or older, and replaced them. Taiwanese climbers learned from climbers in southern Thailand, another place with abundant seaside climbing, that titanium is the only long term solution for safe seaside bolts. The most recent rebolting effort in 2011, spearheaded by both individual climbers and community donations, replaced dangerous bolts with titanium glue-ins or SS 306s, installed bolted anchors on popular trad routes to prevent walk-off accidents, and pull-tested any remaining old bolts to ensure their integrity. Yet rebolting was only part of the safety equation. In the 2024 ANAC, they pored over an alarming report on a carabiner cutting a climber’s rope and shared their thoughts with their community.

The trio worried over misinformation being passed around online, and the lack of an authoritative voice to manage accident reports. Chen wanted the Taiwanese climbing community to have readily available information on accident reports so they could learn from them, analyze them, and use the information to research climbing areas and prepare for hazards. The TOCC has an accidents database for climbers to self-report. They collected 19 reports between 2009 and 2020. But self-reporting has its limitations. Both Chen and Wang express concern over the cultural reluctance to talk about climbing accidents, particularly those involving a fatality or serious injury. The topic is avoided not only out of respect but also due to superstitions that discussing death may invite bad luck or misfortune. Close-calls often go unreported, sometimes because climbers think it may be too trivial, other times because climbers are embarrassed by human error.

To cross that hurdle, Chen theorized, he wanted an example of accident reports that are meticulously documented and freely available. So he turned to the Club.

ANAC had seen translations in the past, notably to Spanish in 2021 and to Simplified Chinese in 2022 by notable Chinese climber and translator Zhou Peng. Chen knew it would be a daunting task.

Two months and several hundred hours of labor later, Chen finished a Traditional Chinese translation of ANAC. The TOCC posted the document on their website, free to download.

Chen says he will continue to translate ANAC next year, and wishes to continue in the years after. Chen, like many AAC volunteers who give their time, skills, and energy to causes they believe in, is often working in challenging environments or with limited resources. Downplaying the sacrifice of his own time, Chen instead emphasizes the rewarding aspects and intrinsic joy of giving in volunteer work. This translation will serve the Taiwanese climbing community for years to come, and may serve as a catalyst to climbers embracing the idea that hard topics like accidents warrant discussion and analysis.

Before there can be a Taiwan climbing accident report, Chen knew he needed to share existing data of how meticulously documented accident reports can add to the collective knowledge of a community.

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Photo by Shao Ping Weng.

The mountains and hillsides of Taiwan are green year-round. At Long Dong, you turn north and you see the sea, you turn south and you see sweeping swaths of green hillside. The subtropical mountainsides of Taiwan are always lush with camphor laurels, peeling elms, banyans, sugar palms, and charcoal trees, a mess of jungle, undulating waves from the foothills all the way to the top. Not a speck of anything else but green and blue.

The trio of friends say Taiwan calls you home. Wang specifically remembers climbing in Yosemite, marveling over the big walls and seas of granite, but in the back of his mind, he still thought about the seacliffs of Long Dong, and the mountains of Taiwan. They stand together on the cliffs overlooking Long Dong Bay, racked up and ready to climb, marveling over how they’ll never get sick of the view.

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CONNECT: Remembering Charlie Through an Epic on Mt. Whitney

In this episode, we’re sitting down with AAC member David Corvi to talk about his Live Your Dream grant experience—a beautiful day that turned into a 24 hour epic on Mt. Whitney in September of 2024. Getting off route, climbing through pockets of ice and show, and getting lost on the descent were only some of what the team experienced that day.

Because there is another layer of complexity to this story, a mental load that added a unique weight to that experience. David’s trip to Whitney was also in memory of his stillborn son, Charlie. In the episode, David shares about his family’s experience with infant and child loss, how climbing and other forms of outdoor adventures have helped him process his grief and continue to parent Charlie even though he is gone, and likewise he reflects on how physical challenges, like half marathons and the Whitney trip, are a way to honor the life Charlie won’t ever get to experience. Dive into this episode to hear about your classic alpine day gone wrong, and just one way that grief and loss can be processed in the mountains.

David and his wife with Charlie.

David and his Whitney expedition partners Dan and Brian.

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Episode Resources:

Apply to the Live Your Dream Grant (Opening March 1st, 2025)

Charles Martin Corvi Fund Website

How to Buy the Book: “Dear Charlie...Letters to My Son: A Father's Journey of Loss, Grief, and Remembrance”

Deep Survival by Laurence Gonzalez

Resources On Infant or Child Loss:

Healthy Birthday (Stillbirth Prevention Advocates)

Star Legacy Foundation

Now I Lay Me Down to Sleep

The Line: News From the Cascades to the Karakoram

Binocular view of the crux fourth pitch of Borrowed Time on the west face of Sloan Peak. Photo: Michael Telstad.

SLOAN PEAK, BORROWED TIME

The west face of Sloan Peak, about 20 kilometers southwest of Glacier Peak in Washington’s North Cascades, has seen a flurry of winter climbing in the past five years. But one obvious plum remained: a direct route up the center of the face, with an intimidating crux pitch leading past steep rock to a hanging dagger. In January, Northwest climbers Justin Sackett and Michael Telstad picked that plum, climbing nearly 2,000 feet up the west face in a long day. We’re sharing Telstad’s report for AAJ 2025 here.

The west face of Sloan Peak (7,835’) has been at the forefront of my mind for about as long as I’ve been winter climbing. Despite numerous attempts, the main face was unclimbed to the summit in winter until 2022, with the completion of Superalpine (IV WI3/4, Legallo-Roy). In 2023, the Merrill-Minton (a.k.a. The Sloan Slither, 1,600’, IV WI4+) climbed partway up the center of the face, then moved rightward to join Superalpine. A previous winter line on Sloan Peak, Full Moon Fever (IV AI4 R 5.8, Downey-Hinkley-Hogan, 2011), started on the west face then angled up the northern shoulder.

Directly above the point where the Merrill-Minton cuts right to easier ground, a large hanging dagger is guarded by gently overhanging, compact gneiss. Known as one of the biggest unpicked plums in the North Cascades, the direct line past the dagger was going to get climbed sooner or later—it was just a question of by whom and in what style. When a perfect weather window arrived in the forecast, I convinced Justin Sackett to drive up from Portland for an attempt.

The west face of Sloan Peak showing the line of Borrowed Time, climbed in January 2025. The climbers followed the Merrill-Minton Route (2023) up to the middle of the big rock band, then continued straight up where the Merrill-Minton veered right. Photo: John Scurlock.

Early on January 19, 2025, we stepped away from the car and into the rainforest. We reached the base of the route at first light. Following the Merrill-Minton for the first three pitches, we encountered climbing up to WI5 R—a far cry from the moderate ice reported on the first ascent. Below the dagger, we took a short break and got ready for an adventure. I’d chosen to leave the bolt kit behind. This route deserved an honest attempt on natural gear before being sieged.

No bolts on this mixed pitch: Michael Telstad zigzags up overhanging gneiss on the fourth pitch of Borrowed Time, the M7 crux of the route. Photo: Justin Sackett.

After traversing back and forth a few times, I chose my line to the ice and started up. The rock on this portion of the wall is highly featured but compact and fractured. Just about every seam that might take gear was packed full of frozen moss; finding decent protection was a slow, agonizing process. A steep crux near the end of the pitch held potential for a huge fall, but an improbable no-hands rest allowed me just enough of a reprieve to get good gear.

On the summit. Photo: Justin Sackett.

Justin joined me in the sun above the dagger, and we continued up a pitch of perfect blue water ice to snow slopes. Rather than finish via the standard scramble route, we opted for an obvious corner system above us. Reminiscent of Shaken Not Stirred on the Mooses Tooth in Alaska, this narrow slot held steps of water ice broken by sections of steep snow—the ideal finish to an excellent climb.

Arriving on the windless summit around 3:45 p.m., we took a short break and began our descent along the southeast shelf. After what felt like an eternity of steep downclimbing, we post-holed back to the cars, arriving a bit after 8 pm. Our direct new route is called Borrowed Time (1,900’, IV WI5 M7). 

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RESCUE ON SLOAN PEAK

In a sad footnote to the Sloan Peak story, a climber was severely injured in a long fall on the mountain about a week after the ascent reported above, apparently attempting one of the initial pitches on either this line or the Merrill-Minton route. The climber was pulled from the face in a dramatic helicopter mission—the five-minute video from Snohomish County Sheriff’s Office is a remarkable window into such rescues. We wish the climber well in his recovery.

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The third bivouac on the north pillar of Yashkuk Sar I. Photo courtesy of Dane Steadman.

YASHKUK SAR FIRST ASCENT

Crashhhhh! rang through the perfectly still night. To say this woke up August Franzen, Cody Winckler, and me would be a lie. How could we sleep? We were camped below the biggest objective of our lives, on our first trip to Pakistan, alone in the Yashkuk Yaz Valley aside from our two cooks and liaison officer back at base camp, surrounded by the most beautiful, terrifying, inspiring, and chaotic mountains we’d ever seen. Now, on the glacier beneath Yashkuk Sar I (6,667m), about a mile past our advanced base camp, I poked my head out the tent door to see a gargantuan avalanche roaring down the peak’s north wall, its powder cloud billowing toward us.

“Should we run?” asked August.

That’s the start of the article Dane Steadman has written for AAJ 2025. The new AAJ will be mailed to AAC members in September, but you can hear Dane talk about this climb right now in the latest Cutting Edge podcast. Along with Dane’s interview, you’ll hear alpinists Kelly Cordes and Graham Zimmerman, plus AAJ editor Dougald MacDonald, sharing their insights on this climb and the unique challenges and attractions of climbing in the Karakoram.

The 2024 Yashkuk Sar I expedition was supported by a Cutting Edge grant from the American Alpine Club.

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The Line is the newsletter of the American Alpine Journal (AAJ), emailed to more than 80,000 climbers each month. Find the archive of past editions here. Interested in supporting this publication? Contact Heidi McDowell for opportunities. Got a potential story for the AAJ? Email us: aaj@americanalpineclub.org.

Your Guide to Climbing at The New River Gorge

The World Class Climbing You Need to Check Out in 2025

By Sierra McGivney

Originally published in Guidebook XIII

If you haven’t logged some ascents on West Virginia stone, that’s a gap in your climbing resume that you should rectify immediately. You won’t regret making the trek to climb on the New’s tiered roofs and bouldery, sequency walls. The New River Gorge (NRG) is one of the few truly world-class destinations in the U.S., and a trip to visit in 2025 would be an easy way to ensure your climbing year is filled with unbelievable climbing— the kind that has you yelling, “WOW I LOVE ROCK CLIMBING” halfway up the wall.

STYLES OF THE NRG:

technical, bouldery, puzzle solving, high steps, big pulls, powerful movement

The NRG boasts miles of challenging climbing on ironclad Nuttall sandstone cliffs. Many routes overlook the stunning New River Gorge, or you can travel deep into the vibrant West Virginia forest and find hidden cliffs with stellar routes. The rock is composed of 98% quartz—some even claim it’s harder than Yosemite granite. With over 3,000 established routes, the NRG has almost every type of climbing: run-out and well-bolted, slab, overhangs, cracks, techy vertical faces, corners, arêtes, trad and sport climbing, and bouldering. Technical small holds, long reaches, big moves, and old-school bolting leave many shaking in their climbing shoes. You’ll never get bored if you love finding a sequence of moves that unlocks a climb. And you’ll never feel better than when you push through the mental challenge and pull off the move.

“It’s a humbling place to climb, so you have to be willing to be humbled a lot,” said Jane Kilgour, the Community & Guest Services Manager at the AAC New River Gorge Campground.

Liz Haas on Black Rider (a.k.a. Pocket Route) (5.13a). Land of the Shawnee, Yuchi, and Moneton peoples. Photo by AAC member Jan Novak.

The caliber of climbs makes every fall and try-hard scream worthwhile.

“[The New River Gorge] is the kind of place where people come for a week, and they end up staying for three months and then moving around their plans for the year so they can return again next season,” said Kilgour.

The best advice for visiting the New: chase stars, not grades. The quality of lines and routes is why climbers can’t get enough of the NRG.

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Each membership is critical to the AAC’s work: advocating for climbing access and natural landscapes, offering essential knowledge to the climbing community through our accident analysis and documentation of cutting edge climbing, and supporting our members with our rescue benefit, discounts, grants and more. 

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A Brief History of New River Gorge Climbing

Magdalena Gromadzka on Tattoo (5.12a). Photo by AAC member Jan Novak.

The New River Gorge National Park is on the land of the Cherokee and Shawnee, among other tribes. We acknowledge their past, present, and future connection to the land. To learn more, visit the Sandstone Visitor Center on your trip.

In the 1970s, West Virginia locals began developing the New River Gorge, focusing on what would become the Bridge Area before the NRG Bridge was completed in 1977. Classics like Chockstone (5.9), Jaws (5.9), and Tree Route (5.10) were climbed in the Bridge Buttress area and graded initially as 5.7. Locals continued to put up more routes, moving on to the Junkyard Wall.

Whispers of amazing climbing at the New River Gorge spread, and the 1980s brought a new wave of climbers who pushed grades and technical difficulties in the area. Rapscallion’s Blues (5.10c), Leave It to Jesus (5.11c), and Incredarete (5.12c) were put up, and with every season, more climbing areas were discovered. In the late ‘80s, sport climbing and Lynn Hill came to the New. Eric Horst put up the first 5.13 in the New, Diamond Life, and Lynn clinched the first ascent of the Greatest Show on Earth (5.13a), setting a new standard for women in the New River Gorge.

Hard sport climbing ruled the early 1990s. The late Brian McCray put up difficult lines on overhanging walls, including the first 5.14a, Proper Soul. Development plateaued in the late ‘90s, as the NPS acquired most of the climbing cliffs, and a power drill ban was enacted in 1998. Currently, the NPS accepts permit applications for new routes. In the 2010s, many 5.14s were bolted and sent, including Trebuchet (5.14b), Coal Train (5.14a), and Mono Loco (5.14a) by guidebook author Mike Williams. Hoax of Clocks (5.14a) was the first route to be bolted legally under the current NPS climbing management plan after the New officially became a national park in December 2020. New routes like Jonathan Siegrist’s Full Metal Brisket (5.15a) continue to be put up alongside classics at popular crags to this day.

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New River Gorge Beta

Photo by AAC member Jan Novak.

Getting There

• Driving: The NRG is located in south-central West Virginia near Fayetteville.

• Flying: Fly into Charleston, West Virginia, and drive about 90 minutes to the NRG. A car is essential at the NRG, where crags, lodging, and grocery stores are spread out.

Season

The New can be climbed year-round and has great warm and cold-weather crags.

The best seasons are fall and spring.

• Fall: It is possible to climb at any crag during this season by chasing sun or shade.

• Spring: Longer days, higher humidity.

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Book Your Stay

If you’re climbing in the New River Gorge, stay in the heart of the national park at the AAC’s New River Gorge Campground, within walking distance of popular climbing crags and hiking trails.

Reservations are required, and same-day reservations must be made by 11 a.m. on the day of arrival. Reservations open March 1, 2025.

The campground offers three types of accommodations: private tent sites, vehicle camping parking spots/sites, and communal camping spots.

No RVs, trailers, or vehicles over 20 feet. Pets are welcome but must be leashed.
Prices are as follows: Member / Non-Member

• Private tent site: $24 / $32

• Communal camping: $10 / $14

• Vehicle sites: $16 / $20

AAC’s New River Gorge Campground season runs from the end of March to early December.

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Emmeline Wang on Legacy (5.11a). AAC member Jan Nova

Notes on Climbing Ethics

• Stick-clipping the first bolt is expected. On some climbs, the first bolt is 20 feet off the ground.

• Always lower (instead of rappelling) from the anchors on single-pitch climbs when possible. New River Alliance of Climbers (NRAC) is active in the area and replaces bad anchors.

• Fixed or project draws within the national park are illegal, and placing fixed protection is by permit only.

• Most NRG crags are within the New River Gorge National Park and Preserve, so all NPS rules apply when climbing there—especially the seven principles of Leave No Trace.

• Grocery Stores

  • Swiftwater General Store, Lansing

  • Walmart Supercenter, Fayetteville

  • Kroger, Fayetteville

• Rest Day Fun

  • Hike Endless Wall Trail, a 3.2-mile loop in the New River Gorge National Park and Preserve.

  • Check out over 60 miles of mountain biking trails in the New River Gorge National Park and Preserve.

  • Raft the New River or the Gauley River.

  • Kayak, stand-up paddleboard, or swim at Summersville Lake.

  • On a rainy day, head over to Rangefinder Coffee in Fayetteville.

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Photo by AAC member Jan Novack.

Climbs You Need to Check Out

Now that you’ve packed, prepared, and researched, the looming question of what to climb still stands. We’ve highlighted a number of climbs you don’t want to miss with help from our New River Gorge Campground staff.

Warning: There are plenty more classics not listed here. You might leave wanting to come back for more.

A Forgotten Classic

• Bicycle Club 5.11d: Not necessarily “for- gotten,” but often overlooked compared to its neighbor, Sancho Belige (5.11c), this is a high-quality route.

Six Must-Climb Routes up to 5.9+

• Ferrovieri 5.7 Sport

• Hippie Dreams 5.7 Sport

• Mrs. Field’s Follies 5.8 Sport

• Two Bag Face 5.9 Trad

• Four Sheets to the Wind 5.9+ Trad

• Flight of the Gumby 5.9+ Sport

Ten Must-Climb Trad Climbs

• Harder Than 5.9

• Black and Tan 5.10a

• Hyperactive 5.10a

• Burning Calves 5.10b

• Rapscallion’s Blues 5.10c

• Fairtracer 5.10d

• Stuck in Another Dimension 5.11a

• Mellifluus 5.11a

• Leave It to Jesus 5.11c

• The Beckoning 5.12a

Ten Must-Climb Sport Climbs Harder Than 5.9

• The Rico Suave Arête 5.10a

• The Decameron 5.10b

• Legacy 5.11a

• Satisfaction Guaranteed 5.11a/b

• Porter for Recorder 5.11d

• Psycho Wrangler 5.12a

• Concertina 5.12a

• Thunderstruck 5.12b

• Welcome to Conditioning 5.12d (“Indisputable Proof that God is a Climber.” —Mike Williams)

• Blood Raid 5.13a

Ten Classic Boulder Problems

• Gymnastic Fantastic V2

• Perfect World V2

• Way of the Gun V4

• Gundercling V4

• Loki V5

• Sunshine Arête V5

• The MacGuffin V5

• West Virginia Hot Pocket V6

• There’s No I in Illiterate V6/7

• 1,2 Punch V7

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Life: An Objective Hazard

Zach Clanton’s Climbing Grief Fund Story

by Hannah Provost

Photos by AAC member Zach Clanton

Originally published in Guidebook XIII

I.

Zach Clanton was the photographer, so he was the last one to drop into the couloir. Sitting on the cornice as he strapped his board on, his camera tucked away now, his partners far below him and safe out of the avalanche track, he took a moment and looked at the skyline. He soaked in the jagged peaks, the snow and rock, the blue of the sky. And he said hello to his dead friends.

In the thin mountain air, as he was about to revel in the breathlessness of fast turns and the thrill of skating on a knife’s edge of danger, they were close by—the ones he’d lost to avalanches. Dave and Alecs. Liz and Brook. The people he had turned to for girlfriend advice, for sharing climbing and splitboarding joy. The people who had witnessed his successes and failures. Too many to name. Lost to the great allure, yet ever-present danger, of the big mountains.

Zach had always been the more conservative one in his friend group and among his big mountain splitboard partners. Still, year after year, he played the tricky game of pushing his snowboarding to epic places.

Zach is part of a disappearing breed of true dirtbags. Since 2012, he has lived inside for a total of ten months, otherwise based out of his Honda Element and later a truck camper, migrating from Alaska to Mexico as the seasons dictated. When he turned 30, something snapped. Maybe he lost his patience with the weather-waiting in Alaska. Maybe he just got burnt out on snowboarding after spending his entire life dedicated to the craft. Maybe he was fried from the danger of navigating avalanche terrain so often. Regardless, he decided to take a step back from splitboarding and fully dedicate his time to climbing, something that felt more controllable, less volatile. With rock climbing, he believed he would be able to get overhead snow and ice hazards out of his life. He was done playing that game.

Even as Zach disentangled his life and career from risky descents, avalanches still haunted him. Things hit a boiling point in 2021, when Zach lost four friends in one season, two of whom were like brothers. As can be the case with severe trauma, the stress of his grief showed up in his body—manifesting as alopecia barbae. He knew grief counseling could help, but it all felt too removed from his life. Who would understand his dirtbag lifestyle? Who would understand how he was compelled to live out of his car, and disappear into the wilderness whenever possible?

He grappled with his grief for years, unsure how to move forward. When, by chance, he listened to the Enormocast episode featuring Lincoln Stoller, a grief therapist who’s part of the AAC’s Climbing Grief Fund network and an adventurer in his own right—someone who had climbed with Fred Beckey and Galen Rowell, some of Zach’s climbing idols—a door seemed to crack open, a door leading toward resiliency, and letting go. He applied to the Climbing Grief Grant, and in 2024 he was able to start seeing Lincoln for grief counseling. He would start to see all of his close calls, memories, and losses in a new light.

Photo by AAC member Zach Clanton

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II.

With his big mountain snowboarding days behind him, Zach turned to developing new routes for creativity and the indescribable pleasure of moving across rock that no one had climbed before. With a blank canvas, he felt like he was significantly mitigating and controlling any danger. There was limited objective hazard on the 1,500-foot limestone wall of La Gloria, a gorgeous pillar west of El Salto, Mexico, where he had created a multi-pitch classic called Rezando with his friend Dave in early 2020. Dave and Zach had become brothers in the process of creating Rezando, having both been snowboarders who were taking the winter off to rock climb. On La Gloria, it felt like the biggest trouble you could get into was fighting off the coatimundi, the dexterous ringtail racoon-like creatures that would steal their gear and snacks.

After free climbing all but two pitches of Rezando in February of 2020, when high winds and frigid temperatures drove them off the mountain, Zach was obsessed with the idea of going back and doing the first free ascent. He had more to give, and he wasn’t going to loosen his vise grip on that mountain. Besides, there was much more potential for future lines.

Dave Henkel on the bivy ledge atop pitch eight during the first ascent of Rezando. PC: Zach Clanton

But Dave decided to stay in Whistler that next winter, and died in an avalanche as Zach was in the process of bolting what would become the route Guerreras. After hearing the news, Zach alternated between being paralyzed by grief and manically bolting the route alone.

In a world where his friends seemed to be dropping like flies around him, at least he could control this.

Until the fire.

It was the end of the season, and his friend Tony had come to La Gloria to give seven-hour belays while Zach finished bolting the pitches of Guerreras ground-up. Just as they touched down after three bivvies and a successful summit, Tony spotted a wildfire roaring in their direction. Zach, his mind untrained on how fast forest fires can move, was inclined to shrug it off as less of an emergency than it really was. Wildfire wasn’t on the list of dangers he’d considered. But the fire was moving fast, ripping toward them, and it was the look on Tony’s face that convinced Zach to run for it.

In retrospect, Zach would likely not have made it off that mountain if it weren’t for Tony. He estimates they had 20 minutes to spare, and would have died of smoke inhalation if they had stayed any longer. When they returned the next winter, thousands of dollars of abandoned gear had disintegrated. The fire had singed Zach’s hopes of redemption—of honoring Dave with this route and busying his mind with a first ascent—to ash. It would only be years later, and through a lot of internal work, that Zach would learn that his vise grip on La Gloria was holding him back. He would open up the first ascent opportunity to others, and start to think of it as a gift only he could give, rather than a loss.

But in the moment, in 2021, this disaster was a crushing defeat among many. With the wildfire, the randomness of death and life started to settle in for Zach. There was only so much he could control. Life itself felt like an objective hazard.

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III.

In January 2022, amid getting the burnt trash off the mountain and continuing his free attempts on Guerreras, Zach took a job as part of the film crew for the National Geographic show First Alaskans—a distraction from the depths of his grief. Already obsessed with all things Alaskan, he found that there was something unique and special about documenting Indigenous people in Alaska as they passed on traditional knowledge to the next generation. But on a shoot in Allakaket, a village in the southern Brooks Range, his plan for distraction disintegrated.

In the Athabascan tradition, trapping your first wolverine as a teenager is a rite of passage. Zach and the camera crew followed an Indigenous man and his two sons who had trapped a wolverine and were preparing to kill and process the animal. In all of his time spent splitboarding and climbing in these massive glaciated mountains that he loved so much, Zach had seen his fair share of wolverines— often the only wildlife to be found in these barren, icy landscapes. As he peered through the camera lens, he was reminded of the time he had wound through the Ruth Gorge, following wolverine tracks to avoid crevasses, or that time on a mountain pass, suddenly being charged by a wolverine galloping toward him. His own special relationship with these awkward, big-pawed creatures flooded into his mind. What am I doing here, documenting this? Was it even right to allow such beautiful, free creatures to be hunted in this way? he wondered.

The wolverine was stuck in a trap, clinging to a little tree. Every branch that the wolverine could reach she had gnawed away, and there were bite marks on the limbs of the wolverine where she’d attempted to chew her own arm off. Now, that chaos and desperation were in the past. The wolverine was just sitting, calm as can be, looking into the eyes of the humans around her. It felt like the wolverine was peering into Zach’s soul. He could sense that the wolverine knew she would die soon, that she had come to accept it. It was something about the hollowness of her stare.

He couldn’t help but think that the wolverine was just like all his friends who had died in the mountains, that there had to have been a moment when they realized they were going to be dead—a moment of pure loneliness in which they stared death in the face. It was the loneliest and most devastating way to go, and as the wolverine clung to the tree with its battered, huge, human-like paws, he saw the faces of his friends.

When would be the unmarked day on the calendar for me? He was overwhelmed by the question. What came next was a turning point.

With reverence and ceremony, the father led his sons through skinning the wolverine, and then the process of giving the wolverine back to the wild. They built a pyre, cutting the joints of the animal, and burning it, letting the smoke take the animal’s spirit back to where it came from, where the wolverine would tell the other animals that she had been treated right in her death. This would lead to a moose showing itself next week, the father told his sons, and other future food and resources for the tribe.

As Zach watched the smoke meander into the sky through the camera lens, the cycle of loss and life started to feel like it made a little more sense.

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IV.

After a few sessions with Lincoln Stoller in the summer of 2024, funded by the Climbing Grief Fund Grant, Zach Clanton wasn’t just invested in processing and healing his grief—he was invested in the idea of building his own resiliency, of letting go in order to move forward.

On his next big expedition, he found that he had an extra tool in his toolbox that made all the difference.

They had found their objective by combing through information about old Fred Beckey ascents. A bush plane reconnaissance mission into the least mapped areas of southeast Alaska confirmed that this peak, near what they would call Rodeo Glacier, had epic potential. Over the years, with changing temperatures and conditions, what was once gnarly icefalls had turned into a clean granite face taller than El Cap, with a pyramid peak the size of La Gloria on top. A couple of years back, they had received an AAC Cutting Edge Grant to pursue this objective, but a last-minute injury had foiled their plans. This unnamed peak continued to lurk in the back of Zach’s mind, and he was finally ready to put some work in.

As Zach and James started off up this ocean of granite, everything was moving 100 miles per hour. Sleep deprived and totally strung out, they dashed through pitch after pitch, but soon, higher on the mountain, Zach started feeling a crushing weight in his chest, a welling of rage that was taking over his body and making it impossible to climb. He was following James to the next belay, and scaring the shit out of himself, unable to calm his body enough to pull over a lip. This was well within his abilities. What was happening? How come he couldn’t trust his body when he needed it most?

At the belay, Zach broke down. He was suddenly feeling terrified and helpless in this ocean of granite, with the unknown hovering above him. They had stood on the shore, determined to go as far into the unknown sea of rock as they could, while still coming back. When would be the breaking point? Could they trust themselves not to go too far?

Hesitantly at first, Zach spoke his thoughts, but he quickly found that James, who had similar experiences of losing friends in the mountains, understood what he was going through. As they talked through their exhaustion and fear and uncertainty, they recognized in each other the humbling experience of being uprooted by grief, and also the ability to process and keep going. They made the decision to keep climbing until sunset, swapping leads as needed. Zach was inspired, knowing how shattered he had felt, and yet still able to reach deep within to push through. With the resiliency tools he had worked on with Lincoln, this experience didn’t feel so debilitating.

Yet resilience also requires knowing when to say no, when something is too much. After a long, uncomfortable bivy halfway up a 5,000-foot rock climb, the two decided to start the long day of rappels, wary of a closing weather window.

Zach Clanton and his dog, Gustaf Peyote Clanton, at Widebird. “He [Gustaf] is a distinguished gentleman.” Photo by Holly Buehler

Back safely on the glacier, the two climbing partners realized it was their friend Reese’s death day. Taking a whiskey shot, and pouring one out for Reese, they parted ways—James to his tent for a nap, and Zach to roam the glacier.

The experience of oneness he found, roaming that desolate landscape, he compares to a powerful psychedelic experience. It was a snowball of grief, trauma, resilience, meditation, the connection he felt with the friends still here and those gone. It was like standing atop the mountain before he dropped into the spine, and the veil between this world and those who were gone was a little less opaque. He felt a little piece of himself—one that wanted a sense of certainty—loosen a little. The only way he was going to move forward was to let go.

He wasn’t fixed. Death wouldn’t disappear. Those friends were gone, and the rift they left behind would still be there. But he was ready to charge into the mountains again, and find the best they had to offer.

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The Climbing Grief Fund (CGF) connects individuals to effective mental health professionals and resources and evolves the conversation around grief and trauma in the climbing, alpinism, and ski mountaineering community. CGF acts as a resource hub to equip the mental health of our climbing community.

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The Height of Mountains

Findings from the AAC Research Grant

by Hannah Provost

Artwork By Jill Pelto

Originally published in Guidebook XIII

Eric Gilbertson was on the summit of Rainier. Or was he? With the differential GPS set up in front of him, he hopped from foot to foot—it was cold up there, but he was also anxious to confirm his suspicions by applying a more rigorous measuring process to the changes he could see with the naked eye. Funded by the AAC Research Grant, he had used an Abney level to measure the relative heights of Columbia Crest, the traditional icecap summit of Rainier where he stood now, as compared to the actual highest point in the summit area—the southwest edge of the crater rim, which was a rock outcrop.

Based on the Abney level, Columbia Crest was distinctly shorter than the southwest rim. With calculations spinning in his head, he noticed the unmistakably dirtier, more trampled quality of Columbia Crest, the way dirt and rocks seemed to muddle the pure snow dome, bringing a wilted quality to the landscape, especially compared to what he could remember seeing in old photographs of Rainier’s summit. He would have to wait to process the data from the differential GPS to be sure exactly by how much the summit had changed. Yet more than the relief of seeing his hypothesis likely confirmed, a bigger question loomed: Were mountains, which so many consider the stalwart indicator of the unmoving, the unchanging, the steady, actually shrinking? And what would it mean if they were?

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Eric Gilbertson is a man of many lists and projects. Each of his projects coalesces around peakbagging, and now surveying. The idea to research the current heights of the five remaining icecap peaks in the Lower 48, which includes Rainier, started when Mt. St. Helens eroded off the top 100 highest peaks of Washington list. Gilbertson had discovered that St. Helens had been steadily eroding by four inches each year since 1989, and because of that, St. Helens had technically fallen off the top 100 list around 2021. As an exacting, rigorous person who prizes accuracy above all in his life’s work, Gilbertson was intrigued—were there more discrepancy in the heights of the other top 100 Washington mountains? If his goal was to do all the hundred highest, and be the first to do them all in winter no less, he wanted to do it right.

Before fact-checking the hundred highest list, before measuring the status of the five historical icecap peaks of the Lower 48, Eric and his brother Matthew had been pursuing what they called “The Country High Points Project.” Though the brothers are each respected alpinists in their own right, with several technical first ascents and inclusions in the American Alpine Journal to Eric’s name, they are peakbaggers at heart. Which is why they conceived of the project to get to the highest point of every country in the world, as defined by UN members and observer states, plus Antarctica. Thus, there are 196 highpoints on their list. So far, Eric has gotten to the highest point of 144 countries and Matthew has ticked 97.

Eric says he sees the project as a framework for creating opportunities for really interesting adventures. “[It] kind of requires every kind of skill set you can imagine. It definitely requires high-altitude mountaineering, like K2 is on there and Everest, but it also requires jungle bushwhacking in the Caribbean or hiking through the desert in Chad. There is so much red tape you have to get through—like in West Africa there are so many police checkpoints so you have to navigate those—so many languages you have to speak, logistics to make it interesting, and the other interesting aspect is [sometimes we don’t know which] is the highest mountain, so in comes the survey equipment.”

Decrease in Glacier Mass Balance, by artist Jill Pelto, the daughter of glaciologist Dr. Mauri Pelto. Jill Pelto integrates scientific data into her artwork to capture the impacts of climate change on our wild landscapes.

When, in 2018, the brothers determined the highest point in Saudi Arabia had actually been misunderstood all along, Eric became particularly interested in exactness and discovery, and how these elements added an interesting complexity to getting to the great heights of the world. A lot more was unknown than one might first imagine, given our information-overload culture. Not knowing if the mountain you were climbing was even the highest point in the country added a challenge that seemed to surpass even first ascenting.

Yet Eric is not always flitting across to the farthest reaches of the world. As an associate teaching professor at Seattle University, he is rooted a good portion of the year, so he is constantly finding ways to feed his passion for discovery and peakbagging right in his backyard. First with adjusting the accuracy of the hundred highest list, and then with his research on icecap peaks, Eric had discovered that even in one of the most mapped countries in the world, a lot more was unknown, and even the known was changing.

There have been five icecap peaks in the Lower 48 in the last century, according to the collective mountaineering knowledge that Eric Gilbertson consulted: Mt. Rainier, Eldorado Peak, East Fury, Liberty Cap, and Colfax Peak—all in Washington state. According to Eric’s research, Mt. Baker has had a rock summit since the 1930s, and therefore was no longer on the list for consideration. For Eric’s purposes, an icecap peak has permanent ice or snow on its summit throughout the year, never melting down to rock. Until now, glaciologists and others studying the cryosphere, or Earth’s ice in all its forms, have not agreed upon a specific term for mountains with snow or ice at their summits, though the term “icecap summit” or “icecap peak” has been used colloquially throughout the world. Eric’s findings—that these summits are dramatically changing— have brought a new importance to being able to name and articulate what exactly is happening on the world’s icy summits.

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Though the scientific importance of icecap peaks has been largely understudied until now, the cultural importance of mountains covered in ice has been profound for climbers and mountaineers. In the past, combatting snow and ice when climbing was a prized indicator of skill and proficiency, a symbol of a “true” alpinist or climber. In fact, when the AAC still required applications for membership, a memo from the 1926 bylaws indicated that the requirement for membership hinged upon “not the mere attainment of height by walking, but rather the ascent of peaks or the traverse of passes and glaciers well above the snowline of the district and presenting technical difficulties.” Mark Carey, a multidisciplinary researcher who studies the societal dimensions of climate change, has illuminated the current fascination with and fixation on glaciers in our current discussions about climate. He argues that glaciers have become prominent as climate imagery not because of the “specific consequences of melting glaciers or the scientific data emerging from ice cores,” but rather because glaciers have many cultural associations that they have gained over the centuries, which have multiplied their significance. Glaciers have been variously seen as terrifying and vast, gorgeous and mysterious, as hubs for science, as important challenges of mountaineering, as something to conquer, and as a symbol of wilderness. Though not glaciers properly, these same cultural touch points seem to apply to icecap summits. More was at stake in Eric’s research than just changing a few numbers on a map.

The AAC Research Grant set Eric up to do a rigorous exploration into this question. Eric used both a differential GPS and an Abney level, and also cross-referenced all historical data he could find about the elevations of these peaks. In surveys done in 1956 using a theodolite and an Abney level, and in 1988 and 1998 using a differential GPS, Rainier’s height was found to be basically the same. Eric’s 2024 measurements were conducted in a way that created methodological consistency with these previous surveys. Eric found that four of the five historical icecap peaks have melted by 20–30 feet in the last 20–70 years, and that three of the five are in fact no longer icecap peaks, because they no longer have permanent ice on their summits. As Eric reported: “Mt Rainier melted 21.8ft, Eldorado Peak melted 20ft, and East Fury melted 30ft. All three now have rock summits. Liberty Cap melted 26.3ft but is still an icecap peak. Colfax is maintaining a steady elevation and is still an icecap peak.” After the relief of being right came the sense of loss.

Rainier had shrunk. This iconic mountain is melting. It seems a devastating revelation, and not just to climbers. It might even be a more tangible and understandable visual than the far more obscure and far-away-feeling imagery of glaciers retreating in the Arctic and polar bears stranded on collapsing sea ice. And then, of course, there is also the totality of realizing that four of the five historical icecap peaks have all shrunk, and by similar amounts. Now, Eric feels driven to dig into the much more complicated question of why.

40 Years in the north Cascades. The top surface of the mountain glacier is a line graph that depicts the decreasing mass balance of North Cascade glaciers in Washington state from 1984-2022. By Jill Pelto

According to Dr. Mauri Pelto, a glaciologist of four decades and the Director of the North Cascade Glacier Climate Project, Eric’s findings are consistent with the melting found across monitored glaciers in the region: “Global warming has caused the widespread thinning of mountain glaciers, including at their highest elevations, not just here [in the Cascades], but across all mountain ranges. Cascade summits are locations where the wind limits the deposition of snow, making the few remaining icy locations vulnerable to increased summer melting. In the North Cascades we have observed an annual ~1% volume loss over 41 years. This melt has caused glacier retreat, but also has been exposing new rock areas all the way to the top of the glaciers.”

The fact that these very visible parts of the cryosphere are dramatically changing is also not surprising when contextualized by the grand scope of climate research. According to the National Snow and Ice Data Center, “the cryosphere is an especially sensitive indicator of climate change. ... Between 1979 and 2016, Earth lost 87,000 square kilometers (33,000 square miles) of sea ice, an area about the size of Lake Superior, per year on average. The extent of the cryosphere matters because its bright white surface reflects sunlight, cooling the planet. Changes in the area and location of snow and ice can alter air temperatures, change sea levels, and even affect ocean currents worldwide.” Even though the sheer volume of ice lost on Rainier and the other three previously icecap summits seems inconsequential in comparison to this average worldwide sea ice loss, it means that the impacts that glaciologists have been seeing across the world are a little closer to home than we might like to believe. In the grand scheme of climate science, the summits of these peaks might only be unique to a climber’s mind.

For many experts in this field, Eric’s findings ring true on an intuitive level. But to drill down even more specifically on the mechanism behind Eric’s findings, Eric has teamed up with Dr. Scott Hotaling, a specialist on high mountain ecosystems and how these ecosystems are being affected by climate change, and together they are working on an academic paper that will pair temperature data with Eric’s elevation surveys. Perhaps this paper will explain the tantalizing question of why Colfax Peak is an outlier.

Of course, as devastating and evocative an image as it might be, there are also political and legal implications to changing those tiny numbers etched next to the summits on your map. National parks, including Rainier, are beholden to USGS topographical surveys for the elevations they report. Eric’s findings are essentially moot in the eyes of the NPS until the USGS replicates them. But as Mike Tischler, the Director of the USGS National Geospatial Program, has reported, the USGS does not currently collect or maintain point elevations of summits.

Tischler reports: “Historically, point elevations of prominent peaks were printed on topographic maps, with the source of the elevation being manual survey. The most recent USGS example of this is a 1996 update of a topographic map originally produced in 1971, based on a field verification in 1971.” Though the USGS is actively conducting surveys using lidar technology to offer 3D elevation data for the U.S. topography, a specific spot elevation value is not official, nor does it represent a precisely measured value for something like a summit. As the USGS warns on their website, the data found by this method might not be the most accurate for alpine landscapes, as “differences between these elevations [manually surveyed elevations vs. lidar data] might exist for features such as mountain peaks or summits, and where the local relief is significant.”

And who would expect mountains to change heights anyway, even if most alpinists know that the mountains seem alive? For now, the USGS seems uninterested in verifying Eric’s findings. But even with this challenge making it difficult for Eric’s research to be widely implemented, Eric is unfazed. This hiccup is just another logistical challenge to navigate as he seeks, with absolute determination, exactness in his climbing goals. Certainly, whatever his next project, Eric Gilbertson will be shaking things up a bit and challenging what climbers, and everyone, knew about the height of mountains.

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EDUCATE: Climbing Gear Innovations, Then and Now

This episode is for the gear nerds out there. The climbing world loves to reminisce on some of climbing’s great inventions of the past, but what’s happening in gear innovation right now? We put together some brief interviews with innovators past and present, to dive into tinkering in the climbing world, then and now.

We’ll start with an excerpt from Yvon Chouinard’s "Legacy Series" interview to hear him reflect on revolutionizing the ice axe. Next, we’ll take a massive leap forward into present-day sport climbing tactics, and chat with Will McNeill, of HangDog Climbing, whose ultralight clip-up device is becoming all the rage in the world of sport projecting. Next, we’ll chat with Brent Barghahn, of Avant Climbing Innovations, about squeaking out the last bit of efficiency for rope soloing systems and hard trad climbing. Then, we’ll take a step back in time again, and chat with Jack Tackle about the late John Middendorf’s legacy in innovating the A5 portaledge, to set us up for our last conversation, a discussion with Nathan Kukathas of Grade 7 Equipment. Nathan is known for inventing the G7 Pod, which many say has been one of the biggest innovations for alpine climbing in years.

Through it all, we’ll talk about inspiration, what it takes to innovate in the climbing gear space, what could be next for climbing gear, and lots and lots about textiles, 3-D printing, and climbing harder.

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Episode Resources:

HangDog Climbing (Clip-up Device)

Avant Climbing Innovations (Top-Rope Solo Lanyard and Flip-Stops)

Grade 7 Equipment (G7 Pod)

John Middendorf’s Gear History Website

The Cutting Edge Podcast: Jannu North Face

The Prescription—Top-Rope Solo

Angel Wings in Sequoia National Park. Valkyrie (V 5.11+) climbs the sunlit buttress to the right of the highest summit in this image. Photo: Brandon Thau

In this month’s Prescription, an expert climber made two crucial errors in her rope ascension/top-rope solo system. She fortunately escaped with relatively minor injuries.

This accident was featured in the 2024 Accidents in North American Climbing.

Top-Rope Solo Fall | Device Jammed By Sling

Sequoia National Park, Angel Wings

Valkyrie takes the spectacular red line shown above. Clark’s accident occurred on the slab at the bottom of the climb. Photo: Brandon Thau

On October 8, 2023 Whitney Clark was ascending a fixed rope at the start of Valkyrie (17 pitches, 5.11+) when her single ascension device was jammed by a sling. She fell 30 feet to the ground.

Clark wrote to ANAC:

“We woke at around 6 a.m. and made our way to the fixed line from the day before. The days were short and we had many pitches to do. My partner, Luka Krajnc, went first, using a Grigri to jug and then transitioning to climbing. About 40 feet up, he clove-hitched the rope to a bolt. I then started jugging with a single Micro Traxion. Thirty feet up, I leaned back on the rope. My body weight wasn’t supported because the sling around my neck [part of the top-rope solo setup] got sucked into the device and caught in the teeth of the Traxion. The rope was sliding against the sling. I hadn’t tied a backup knot.”

Clark attempted to wrap the rope around her leg. But her rope was new, thin, and slippery. She wrote, “I grabbed the rope and slowly started sliding down. Eventually the rope burn was too painful and I let go. I hit the ground, landed on my feet, and fell backward. I struck my lower back and then my head. I was wearing a helmet. Because the ground was angled, some of the force was dissipated, though I landed six inches from a large rock spike.

“I never lost consciousness but was in a bit of shock. Luka rappelled down and did a spinal exam. He got me comfortable, and I sat there for a while. I had pain in my back and my left ankle. I used my inReach to call for a rescue while Luka retrieved our stuff. I started crawling and butt-scooting to where a heli could reach me. I would have loved to have self-rescued, but it’s a 16-mile hike out. It took about 2.5 hours of crawling to make it to a flat place. Four hours later, a helicopter airlifted me to the Visalia Level III trauma center.”

 Whitney Clark’s progress-capture device failed when the as-yet-unused retention sling got stuck in the device as she was ascending. It is common practice to use a sling and an elastic connection to hold the progress-capture device upright as one climbs along a fixed rope. Photo: Luka Krajnc

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The Prescription—Video Analysis

Top-rope soloing is becoming increasingly popular. In this video, Pete Takeda, Editor of Accidents in North American Climbing, and IFMGA/AMGA guide Jason Antin are back to provide an accident analysis and give you some quick tips on how to mitigate risk when top-rope soloing.

Top-rope soloing is an integral part of modern climbing. Currently, only one device (the El Mudo) is designed and commercially available for top-rope (and lead) soloing. There are many ways to configure these systems and we’ve demonstrated one possible solution here.

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ANALYSIS

Solo top-roping allows a climber to self-belay when no partner is available, for a team to work on individual sections of a route without the need for a belayer, or for two climbers to move simultaneously, as in this situation. The errors Clark made were using only one device to safeguard her progress and not tying a backup knot.

“I was jugging by pulling on the rope, syncing up the slack, and sitting back,” Clark said. “The route was meandering and the fixed line didn’t allow me to readily climb, so I decided to jug straight up the initial blank slab. The sling around my neck was going to hold the Traxion upright [allowing the rope to feed freely] once I started climbing. I haven’t done any top-rope soloing since the accident. I probably will at some point, but I will definitely use two devices. This was the first time I only used a single progress-capture device.”  (Source: Whitney Clark.)

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Keenan Griscom is Doing Everything Your Parents Tell You Not To Do

Keenan Griscom giving it his all during the 2023/2024 competition season. Photo courtesy of the UIAA

Every year, ice climbers flock to the Ouray Ice Festival to test their skills on the human made ice flows in the park. A select few test their skills on the ice climbing competition wall. Routes are created that include ice, rock, and plywood in the Scottish Gullies section of the ice park. 

The American Alpine Club sat down with USA ice climbing competitor Keenan Griscom. Griscom was rocking a North Face leopard-print 1996 retro Nuptse puffer and Y2K gray wrap-around sunglasses, as chill as the ice around us. We chatted about growing up competing in ice climbing competitions, his new link up Tommy's X (5.14b) in Clear Creek Canyon's Nomad’s Cave, and his experimental competition headspace. The experiment succeeded clearly, since Griscom took home the gold in the Ouray men's lead finals the next day. 

AAC: You were the youngest American to win the Ouray Elite Mixed Climbing Competition at age 16. When did you start climbing? How did you get into competitive ice climbing?

Keenan Griscom: My dad actually started me ice climbing when I was four or five here in Ouray. So I've had tools for a long time. And then through Marcus Garcia, [I] found the competition scene and got hooked. I was doing rock comps, and the community in the ice climbing comps was just, so, so good and supportive and friendly, so, as someone who's already into competing, starting the ice comps is just like, oh, this is it. This is a cool spot to be in.

AAC: What was it like competing at such a young age?

KG: I don't know, I've been competing since I was nine. It was somewhat second nature. I've always wanted to give it [my] all in the comps. And Ouray was really special because when I started, there weren't any age categories. It was just the open format, and anyone could sign up. So if you were in, you're competing with everyone. My first two seasons, I didn't place particularly well. But it was so cool to be competing with people like Will Gadd and Ryan Vachon and all these epic mixed-climbers and alpinists who I looked up to. 

AAC: What drew you to continue doing competition ice climbing while you fell away from competition bouldering and rock climbing? 

KG: I stopped competing in rock comps mainly because the scene isn't as welcoming. There's a lot more toxic competitive nature there, and a lot of people get really worked up and will take other people down to get a better result. There's not really any of that in the ice climbing crew. Ice climbing comps are really fun. I'm going to stick with that. But I've been rock climbing outside nonstop. 

AAC: On that note, I noticed you put up an alternative finish to Tommy's Hard Route (5.13d)—Tommy's X (5.14b). What is the relationship between route development and ice climbing? How do those two things relate, if at all for you?

KG: They don't relate a ton since I haven't really done much development for ice or mixed. I've gotten a lot of help from mentors like Marcus, who I met through ice climbing, to teach me development ethics. That route, specifically, it's in a cave near my house, and there's a lot of link ups. I didn't put in any new bolts [for Tommy's X] it was just a new line that hadn't been done yet.

AAC: And what inspired you to do that?

KG: Tommy's Hard Route (5.13d) is an old school natural line in a cave that's almost all manufactured. There is this really, really big dead point crux that I always thought was super, super interesting. Then it's over. You do this really gnarly dead point, and it's jugs to the chains. Which is nice, but more sustained climbing is more my style. There's this other route called Predator X (5.13a/b) that comes in from the left and finishes basically directly above that dead point. And one day, I was wondering if I could link those up, and then it'd be like a perfectly straight line of bolts through the wall. Yeah, it ended up being a really interesting crux sequence after the initial crux. 

AAC: That's awesome. You also boulder, can you tell me a little bit more about that?

KG: Yeah, I grew up almost exclusively sport climbing, and then started to do a little bit of bouldering through friends and kind of got hooked on it, because it’s a little bit easier. You can go out and solo sesh a lot of stuff in Clear Creek Canyon near the crib. I took that and ran with it. I've been doing more bouldering than sport lately, and that's currently what I'm probably most excited about, pushing bouldering grades.

AAC: Do you have a preference between sport climbing, bouldering, ice climbing, ice climbing competition, and mixed climbing?

Keenan Griscom is all about staying chill, captured during the 2023/2024 competition season.

KG: Really hard to say. I might put bouldering at the top, but then it's a massive tie for second. Ice climbing comps are unbeatable. There's no other scene that's as fun and welcoming, and the movement is so dynamic. You just don't get the same movement on rock. It's a really fun change of pace. With actual ice and mixed I'd really like to get into doing some more big things and exploratory multi-pitch in [Rocky Mountain National Park]. But I've definitely been more focused on competition and rock climbing lately.

AAC: What does training look like for you?

KG: It depends. This year has been more casual—been working on a lot of power, strength, and technique. Last season was a pretty full-on training block. I basically trained from August through December, like super structured for the World Cup tour, and it ended up panning out really well.

AAC: It definitely did, you received the overall World Cup lead medal in silver, last year. What about competition ice climbing sparks inspiration or joy for you?

KG: Initially, it's like basically everything your parents tell you not to do. You get to jump around with blades on your feet and in your hands and take massive falls in the air. Honestly, on the World Cup scene, it's all a massive party. Everyone's a big family. I find the movement really fun. It's really physical. So you get to actively try hard while you're doing it, which is a good feeling. Honestly, it's the community, like the scene is so fun. That's a large part of why I'm here.

AAC: Who do you think you are as an ice climbing competitor? 

KG: I'd like to say Keenan is just a climber who wants to do it all. In ice climbing comps, I'd like to be seen as someone who's really focused on doing as well as they can. But I've done some coaching in Boulder at the Ice Coop, and for me to, like, not feel the stress of the competition, I tend to try and help everyone; making sure everyone else is doing good helps me a lot with not worrying about how it's gonna go. So I guess I would like to be seen as someone who's a wealth of knowledge to come and get help from. But at the same time, I'll put my headphones in and lock in for the warm-ups.

AAC: Who are you outside of climbing?

KG: Outside of climbing, I'm trying to be an artist. I'm wrapping up my Arts Associate right now. I'm a little unsure of what I'm doing afterwards, but I'll figure it out.

AAC: What mediums do you work in?

KG: Fashion and then dry mediums, so, charcoal and graphite.

AAC: What do you hope to get out of this 2025 season?

KG: I'm really excited to go into it with a casual mental space. I'm trying to just put it all on the line during the competitions. I haven't done as much training and prep for this season. I'm trying to play around with different approaches to the competition headspace. Instead of treating it as a competition, I want to treat it as redpointing a project. The goal is not to get a certain placement, or even do well in the comp. The goal is to top the routes. At a world cup level that almost always means winning. It's not like I want to win to top the route, I just want to top. Topping is the main objective. 

AAC: What has been the most pivotal moment in your climbing career?

KG: In competition climbing, it was definitely my last season as a U16. I won that year's Youth World Cup. The whole prep I was focused on winning, and when I won, it wasn’t very fulfilling. I felt pretty hollow. That drastically changed how I approached my whole preparation and training. I think that was a massively positive moment. 

[For] rock climbing it's really hard to say. I think potentially [when I stopped] competition rock climbing, because I grew up doing camping trips to Indian Creek and Vedauwoo and following leads all the time. And taking a step away from the competition rock was really nice and refreshing to go back to the routes and try really hard on rock without any external things happening. 

AAC: If you could be any climb, what would it be and why?

KG: I have two lines in mind. Biographie (9a+/515+) in Céüse, France, because it is the most beautifully perfect chunk of rock I have ever seen. It just looks so incredible—proper dream line. Or Off the Wagon (V14), that V14 in Switzerland. The beta on that thing is the definition of swagger. It's so cool.

AAC: Could you elaborate on that, and leave us with some climbing beta humming around in our heads?

KG: Yeah, the history of that boulder is pretty sweet. Dave Graham and Chris Sharma tried it forever ago, and it's this massive right hand dead point for this first move and then you do a campus row sequence. And that's it. It's a two move V14. It's smash, hold, campus, done. It's in this beautiful little meadow valley in Switzerland, and you start on a wagon. It's a really cool chunk of rock. It's like a perfectly flat 45 degree panel.

Just one podium among many. Keenan Griscom celebrating his bronze medal in the 2024 Champagny Continental Open. Photo courtesy of the UIAA

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For the Ouray Competition men's results, click here, and for the women's results, click here. The Ice Climbing competition scene returns to Colorado for the World Cup in Longmont on Feb. 22-23. Watch Team USA compete this February, or learn more about getting involved here. 

Want more ice climbing content? Check out A Little Extra Spice: Stories from the World of Competition Ice Climbing

The Line: Exploring Zanskar

“In recent years, the peaks of Zanskar have seen increasing popularity with mountaineering expeditions. Despite this, there are still plenty of unclimbed summits from 5,500m to 6,500m….”

That’s the start of a report for AAJ 2025 from Matic “Matija” Jošt from Slovenia, who has completed four exploratory expeditions to Zanskar, in the southwest of Ladakh, India, in the last decade. Jošt’s detailed, photo-rich trip reports have prompted a lot of recent activity (including three additional reports in the upcoming AAJ). Below, we offer highlights from Jošt’s latest exploration, plus a brief Q&A with the man himself.

The view from around 5,200 meters above the Chhogo Tokpo. At left is the south summit of T16, climbed in 2016 by Cosmin Andron and Cristina Pogacean from Romania. The main summit of T16, climbed in 2024 and named Skarma Mindruk Ri, is hidden to the left. At right is unclimbed T13 (6,436m). Photo by Matic Jošt.

Chhogo Tokpo, Four First Ascents

“Uroš Cigljar, Tilen Cmok, Boštjan Dečman, Nejc Škrablin, Tomaž Žerovnik, and I arrived on July 7 at base camp in the Chhogo Tokpo, the eastern branch of the Haptal Tokpo. [Tokpo is a word for “valley” in this area of India.] While several parties had visited adjacent valleys and climbed a few peaks on the watershed ridges with the Chhogo, the only reported climbing expedition to visit the Chhogo valley was an Indian-Romanian team in 2016 that climbed one peak and attempted another (AAJ 2017).

“A very complex 6,431m mountain known as T16 was our main objective. [Peaks above various Zanskar valleys were numbered by Kimikazu Sakamoto, whose teams made exploratory expeditions in Zanskar from 2009 to 2016; Sakamoto published the first climber-friendly topographical sketches of these mountains.] The lower south summit was climbed by Romanians Cosmin Andron and Cristina Pogacean in 2016, but the easiest approach to the main top appeared to lie up the south slopes above the Khapang Glacier, east of the Chhogo valley. The big riddle was finding a suitable passage from the Chhogo to the Khapang, and we decided to devote part of our acclimatization to solving this problem.

The final ascent to Skarma Mindruk Ri (6,431m), the peak formerly known as T16. Photo by Matic Jošt.

“Aiming for a col on the ridge south of T16, we hiked up a side glacier, passing the route climbed by the Romanians, and climbed a 300m west-facing gully (300m, D+ 60° M3) to reach the col (5,836m). From there, it would be easy to descend to the gentle Khapang Glacier and traverse over to T16’s main peak.

“The whole team returned to the col camp on the 14th, and the next day, in perfect weather, we climbed south-facing slopes above the Khapang Glacier and along the east ridge to the summit of T16 (600m, D+ 60°). Our expedition had been organized by a club from the Slovenian town Šentjur, so we named our route Šentjurka (900m, D+). We later encouraged people in the nearest village, Tungri, to suggest a name for the peak, and they came up with Skarma Mindruk Ri. (Skarma is “star,” and Mindruk is a specific star in the constellation of Pleiades.) Maybe the name will catch on.”

Boštjan Dečman and Nejc Škrablin on the upper Khapang Glacier. The col they crossed to reach the glacier is just left of Škrablin. The huge rock fin behind leads to unclimbed T13 (6,436m). In back on the left is unclimbed Peak T11 (6,177m). Photo by Matic Jošt.

Later in this expedition, Jošt and Žerovnik crossed a different col to reach the Korlomshe Tokpo, where a British team in 2015 had attempted what they called a “Matterhorn-like peak.” The Slovenians climbed the east face and south slopes to reach the 6,130m summit. “We named the route Charlatan De Balkan (500m, D+ 60° ice) after an album by a popular Slovenian group,” Jošt writes. “As the peak was absolutely nothing like the famous Swiss mountain, we named it Antimatterhorn.”

Team members also attempted the west face of unclimbed Peak 5,435m, close to base camp, and made the first ascent rock tower east of camp, which was dubbed Ibex (5,321m).

Below the east face of the Antimatterhorn (6,130m). Photo by Tomaž Žerovnik.

By July 24, most of the party had left base camp. “Although I’ve been climbing around 45 years, I don’t have much experience with soloing, but I decided to try the north face of T9 (6,107m), which I had seen from the Antimatterhorn approach,” Jošt writes in his report. “I left base camp at 1 a.m. on the 25th, carrying two axes but no rope. The north face became icier and brittle the higher I climbed, but at 8:30 a.m. I reached the west ridge. The upper section of this ridge was rockier, but in one hour I was standing on the summit.” Uncomfortable with downclimbing the north face he had ascended, he headed down a couloir on the southwest face to a neighboring glacier, traversing the mountain, and made it back to base camp by 3 p.m.

“The locals suggested the name Spao Ri for the peak. It means “brave mountain.” I named the route Old and Abandoned (700m, TD II/III 75° ice). Why? Because I’m not young anymore.”

Jošt’s comprehensive report from the 2024 expedition, including some general notes on climbing in Zanskar, will be available at the AAJ website later this year. To see a copy sooner, email aaj@americanalpineclub.org.

—Matic Jošt, Slovenia

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Four Questions

Matic Jošt, 55, first appeared in the AAJ in 1996 as a member of a Slovenian expedition to Gasherbrum I. His expeditions have taken him to high mountains throughout Asia, as well as climbs in Peru.  

Jošt climbing the north face of Planja in the Julian Alps of Slovenia. Photo by in Matjaž Dušič.

Q. Where do you live in Slovenia and what do you do for work there?

A. At the moment, I mostly live close to Celje in the central part of Slovenia. I am a self-employed engineer. In 2021, I applied for the IFMGA guide course and probably will finish this summer. So, last year I earned some money as an aspirant guide, too. I also sometimes do rope access work.

Q. What is it about Zanskar that keeps luring you back? 

A. Easy logistics and some unexplored areas, nice local people. The mountains are not so high, and I can find easily something that fits my ambitions. It is not too expensive, and I can afford it. And after all, I am quite familiar with the geography of the region. 

Q. Are there issues with climbing there?

A. The lack of quality maps in the area has partly been mitigated by navigation applications, but there is still confusion regarding peak names and, over the years, a general lack of systematic recording of activity. The IMF (Indian Mountaineering Federation) has a list of open peaks that includes geographical coordinates and altitudes, but they simply number the peaks; very few mountains on the list have names.

I also think the IMF expedition policy for foreigners and their system based on “peak permissions” is out of date and quite inappropriate for such areas as Zanskar and other mountain ranges north of the main Himalayan divide. A more suitable management model would set boundaries within which climbers could choose any peaks they want to attempt.

Q. Other than your trips to India, what have been your favorite international expeditions? And where is your favorite place to climb at home?

A. All of my expeditions are my favorite. I am happy that from all the expeditions which I have participated in, we all came home alive. We have had some close escapes, accidents, and injuries, but we had luck. At home I really like Ojstrica (in the eastern Kannik Alps). It has nice north face above Logarska dolina (valley) to climb in summer, and nice southern slopes for skiing in winter. I also sport climb as much as I can to keep my fitness. 

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The Line is the newsletter of the American Alpine Journal (AAJ), emailed to more than 80,000 climbers each month. Find the archive of past editions here. Interested in supporting this publication? Contact Heidi McDowell for opportunities. Got a potential story for the AAJ? Email us: aaj@americanalpineclub.org.

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The Prescription—January

Photo by AAC Member Merrick Ales

It’s bouldering season in Hueco Tanks, Texas. While most consider bouldering relatively safe, it is perhaps the most accident- and injury-plagued facet of climbing. This month we bring you an accident that took place in 2024 on a famous John Sherman highball called See Spot Run.  

This accident will be featured in the 2025 Accidents in North American Climbing.

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Bouldering Fall | Poor Pad Placement

Hueco Tanks State Park, North Mountain

Hueco Tanks is a world-class climbing area known for its outstanding bouldering. It’s also known for having more than its fair share of spicy highball problems. Photo: Pete Takeda.

On January 22, I (Pete Korpics, 35) was attempting to climb a long-standing project of mine called See Spot Run (V6). I was well aware of the risks involved and that it would require ample padding. 

During previous sessions, I had placed six or more pads in a wide area including the back of the fall zone. Six pads or more is ideal, but I was admittedly negligent on the day of the accident, as I felt I’d complete the route and was excited to do it. I also felt that the pad number and pad placement—five total and not as wide as prior attempts—was adequate, given the presence of two spotters. I felt very strong getting to the crux. After pulling through the crux, I got very pumped, lost momentum, and hesitated. We all know that moment when you feel uncertain about the next move. In those moments we tell ourselves, “Do it anyway.” Sometimes this works, but often it doesn’t. In this case, I fell. 

I fell from roughly 15 feet up, with quite a bit of force. My spotters were hesitant to put their bodies in harm’s way. I had told them that, above the crux, staying clear was the best thing to do. Having two people injured is worse than one. 

Due to the momentum of the fall and the poor pad placement, my left foot hit the rock and right foot hit the pad. I severely sprained my ankle. It was probably not helpful that it has in the past received the same injury.  

Pete Korpics on an early attempt on See Spot Run. He recalls, “I was very familiar with this famous and dangerous route, as I’d been attempting it for several years.” Photo: Pete Takeda.

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ANALYSIS 

Bouldering is inherently dangerous, and highball problems particularly so. Besides being a four-star John Sherman classic, See Spot Run is a notorious ankle breaker. It is 25 feet tall and described on Mountainproject.com as “one of the more notorious highball problems at Hueco.”

During the same season that Korpics had his accident, other falls from the route caused multiple ankle sprains.

Keep ‘Em On The Pad!

On highballs, the impact forces of a falling climber can be equally hazardous to the spotter. The general rule for highballs (and all bouldering for that matter) is to ensure that the falling climber lands on the pads and stays on the pads after impact. Spotting might look less like controlling and guiding the fall, and more like giving the falling climber a shove to keep them on the pads. The spotter(s) should also protect the head and neck from striking bare ground, rocks, etc.

Korpics wrote to ANAC: ”Preventable action would have included better pad placement and more pads. We could have used thinner pads to cover gaps between pads. This accident may also have been prevented by assertive spotting, and a strong shove from one of the spotters would have landed me on the pads. That possibility was negated because I had instructed my spotters to stand clear if I fell from above the crux.

“Confidence should not lead to complacency,” he continued. “I’d been climbing a lot and climbing well, including numerous highballs prior to the accident, so I’d let my guard down. I do not blame the spotters, as I had given them specific instructions. I had placed the pads, I chose to climb despite knowing more pads would be better, and the injury was my fault.”

(Sources: Pete Korpics, Mountainproject.com, and the Editors.)

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Celebrating AAC Member Bill Atkinson's 100th Birthday

Provided by Holley Atkinson.

Climbing is a powerful force that connects us. Even when climbing takes a backseat in our lives, we are still connected to the people we have partnered with, the places we have climbed, and the impact we have had.

Today, we celebrate the 100th birthday of one of our members, Bill Atkinson. Bill started climbing in the Shawangunks in the late 50's and joined the American Alpine Club in 1978. He was the New England Section Chair and was awarded the Angelo Heilprin Citation Award in 2006 for exemplary service to the Club. He is one of our oldest members and has been a member of the American Alpine Club for 47 years.

Happiest centennial to you, Bill!

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Below, you'll find reflections from climbers celebrating Bill's incredible impact and character:

PC: Chris Vultaggio

Bill, your presence in our climbing world has been productive and prolific—and your life has been the same! Your postings have always been inspiring. Thanks for doing all of those. Some segments should be required before being granted membership in the AAC!

We never climbed together – except at the Annual AAC New England Section and some Annual Dinners. That is to say, climbing up to the bar. I'm fifteen years younger, so you were out there ahead of me. But I have you beat on one score! I climbed Mt. Sir Donald via the same route you took, but back in 1962. I was also in the Bugaboos that summer.

You'll be getting a lot of these postings, so I'll keep this short. Thanks again for all you've done for our world. Happy Century! Hang around for another 15 so you can help me celebrate mine.

–Jed Williamson

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Happy Birthday, Bill,

You are one very special person, a thoughtful, helpful climber with such an important history of climbing in New England. I respect you and your contributions to the AAC and climbing. Hats off to you, young man. I salute you for your many contributions.

Thank you, and special wishes every day.

Happy Birthday,

Bruce Franks

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Rick Merrit celebrates Bill's Birthday by remembering the times they connected through climbing…

Bill was a great section leader as I became more involved in the AAC. He worked hard to recruit and recognize new members through our section's formal dinners. I remember climbing with him on White Horse Ledge in North Conway when he was in his 80s. I also remember hiking with Bill and his friend Dee Molinar when the ABD was at Smith Rock.

Warm regards to Bill,

Rick Merritt

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I mainly know Bill through the AAC, specifically the New England chapter, which Bill energetically chaired for many years. We all looked forward to the wonderful black tie annual dinners held in the old Tufts mansion in Weston, MA, that he so carefully organized.

I always enjoyed listening to Bill's extraordinary life experiences, like when he served as a radar navigator in a B52 in the Pacific during WWII, or marveling at his many fascinating inventions and creations, like the beautiful chess boards he crafted and, of course, his amazing climbing career. Bill remained extremely active as a climber long after most of his peers retired, and I remember he climbed the Black Dike when he was 80, I think! That may have been the oldest ascent ever!

I've always appreciated Bill's kind, soft-spoken character and the interest he always showed in others. Bill is a true Renaissance man, and I feel fortunate to know him.

Happy 100th birthday, Bill!

What a milestone!

–Mark Richey

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The Line: Ascents for the Ages

Babsi Zangerl high on Free Rider during her first flash ascent of El Cap. Photo by Miya Tsudome for Highpoint Productions. 

BABSI ON FREE RIDER—THE PODCAST

Babsi Zangerl’s flash ascent of Free Rider on El Capitan in November—the first flash of any El Cap big-wall free route—was a highlight of the year in climbing. In the new Cutting Edge podcast, the 36-year-old Austrian climber describes her preparation, fears, and the intense effort of her no-falls ascent of the 5.13a wall. Plus, Alex Honnold, Josh Wharton, and AAJ editor Dougald MacDonald add personal perspective and context on Babsi’s historic Free Rider ascent. Listen to the new episode here!

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Yawash Sar I (6,258m) in far northern Pakistan. The round-trip from base camp took seven days. Photo: Janusz Majer.

FOWLER-SAUNDERS IN PAKISTAN

Two of the most accomplished and adventurous climbers of the modern era are Mick Fowler, a retired tax inspector for Great Britain’s revenue department, and Victor Saunders, a U.K. architect turned Chamonix mountain guide. The two completed their first major new route in Pakistan together 37 years ago. This past autumn, Fowler, now age 68, and Saunders, 74, completed another big new route: the first ascent of a 6,258-meter peak, also in Pakistan. Read on to learn more about both climbs.

YAWASH SAR I, FIRST ASCENT

Victor Saunders (left) and Mick Fowler in Pakistan. Photo by Mick Fowler.

In September 2024, Victor Saunders and I made the first ascent of Yawash Sar I (6,258m), a shapely peak at the head of the Koksil (a.k.a. Shop Dur) Glacier in the Ghujerab Mountains, very near the frontier with China. [In 2022, a British team made three attempts on the south face and southern ridges of Yawash Sar I, on the opposite side of the mountain. (See AAJ 2023.) No prior attempt from the Koksil Glacier, which drains to the northwest, has been reported.] 

Victor and I met in Islamabad on August 26, flew to Gilgit, spent a night in Karimabad, and arrived at Koksil (ca 4,000m), 12 kilometers west of Khunjerab Pass on the Karakoram Highway, on the 28th. Bad weather delayed us for a day, but on the 30th, after one day of walking, we established a base camp at around 4,600 meters on the highest grassy meadows below the Koksil Glacier.

You call this a retirement home? Fowler at the cramped first bivouac on Yawash Sar I. Photo by Victor Saunders.

The weather was unstable over the period from August 31 to September 9. However, we were able to make a reconnaissance of the approach to Yawash Sar and get good views of its north and northwest flanks. During this period, to aid acclimatization and get more views of Yawash Sar, we ascended Peak 5,636m, first climbed by a Polish-Italian team in 2011 (see AAJ 2012).

On September 10, we left base camp to attempt our main objective. That day we walked up the main Koksil Glacier to camp at a point below the 5,426m West Yawash Col. On the 11th we climbed through an icefall to gain the previously unvisited glacier basin between Yawash Sar I and Peak 6,072m.

The west-northwest face of Yawash Sar I has three groove/couloir lines. We climbed the central one. On September 12, we crossed the bergschrund and were pleased to find excellent conditions. Once established on the line, we climbed thin ice runnels to a bivouac at about 5,750m. There was a notable dearth of good bivouac sites, and we had to traverse about 35m out of the couloir to a point where we were able to fashion a ledge on a sharp rock crest. On the 13th, we climbed more thin ice streaks and mixed ground to meet the southwest ridge at about 6,050m. Here, we endured a very uncomfortable and windy sitting bivouac.

Saunders arriving at a belay on Yawash Sar I. The high summit on the left is unclimbed Peak 6,072m. Photo by Mick Fowler.

On the 14th the weather deteriorated, and it began to snow. We traversed left across a rock wall (where we’d been concerned we might be stopped) and gained the summit slopes, which we followed to the top, arriving at around 11 a.m. We stayed about five minutes and then rappelled all the way to the bottom of the face, reaching the glacier at about midnight on the same day. On the 15th and 16th, we returned to base camp.

The upper reaches of the Koksil Glacier had only been visited by one previous party, the Polish/Italian team noted above, and numerous possibilities for climbers remain.

— Mick Fowler, U.K.

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Much of the Golden Pillar of Spantik consisted of thin ice or powder snow over marble slabs, making for long runouts and very insecure climbing. Photo by Victor Saunders from AAJ 1988.

THE GOLDEN PILLAR OF SPANTIK

If the Piolets d’Or had existed at the time (they didn’t debut until 1992), Mick Fowler and Victor Saunders’ ascent of the Golden Pillar of Spantik (7,027m) in 1987 surely would have earned them a golden ice axe. Their six-day climb of the 2,100m northwest face was a landmark of late-’80s alpinism, with bold climbing in unstable weather on a stunning formation, followed by a nerve-wracking descent on uncharted terrain. Here’s an excerpt from Saunders’ article in AAJ 1988, describing day four of the climb:

Photo from AAJ 1988 by Victor Saunders.

“By midday, we reached a large flat ledge, the top of a giant jammed block. There we made tea and relaxed until it occurred to us to look up. We were completely surrounded by overhangs. Fowler led an aid pitch to gain the lowest of a series of ramps. The lower ramps led to a shield, which was the other area of uncertainty for us. From Base Camp there had appeared to be no line around this feature, but a hidden chimney revealed itself at the end of the ramp. Because it was blank-sided and there was no belay at the top, I had to belay Mick by wedging my body across the chimney and asking him not to fall.

“I do not remember having a more miserable bivouac than the one we had that night. We were benighted and there was no ledge, nor even the possibility of cutting one on the thin ice. We used the tent as a hanging bag, inside of which Mick spent the night in his harness, while I stood in my rucksack. It snowed all night.”

There’s much more to enjoy in this classic AAJ story: Read it here. To see the story in its original format, download the PDF (icon in upper right of the web page.)

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FOWLER AND SAUNDERS: FURTHER READING

Fowler and Saunders have published many articles and books, replete with wild adventures and Brit-style self-deprecating humor. For tales from Fowler’s early years, turn to his 1995 book Vertical Pleasure: The Secret Life of a Tax Man. Saunders’ 1990 book Elusive Summits (winner of Britain’s Boardman Tasker Prize) is probably his best. Both books describe the landmark Spantik ascent.

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The Line is the newsletter of the American Alpine Journal (AAJ), emailed to more than 80,000 climbers each month. Find the archive of past editions here. Interested in supporting this publication? Contact Heidi McDowell for opportunities. Got a potential story for the AAJ? Email us: aaj@americanalpineclub.org.

CLIMB: Behind the Scenes of the Cutting Edge Grant, with Jack Tackle

In this episode, we sit down with legend Jack Tackle to discuss all things cutting edge. We begin by diving into the many first ascents of Jack’s own alpinism career, his progress as a climber, and his deep history with the AAC. We cover the evolution of adventure grants in climbing, how the AAC’s Cutting Edge Grant got started, and why it’s the premiere climbing grant in today’s climbing scene. We also cover the last few years of successes that have come out of Cutting Edge Grant expeditions, a behind the scenes look at some of the considerations these alpinists face when pursuing such high-end objectives, and how Jack’s experience can shed light on the significance of these ascents. Plus, we cover some of the other AAC grants and how they meet the needs of climbers at all levels. 

We don’t cover the exact details of the expedition planning process, or how important it is for these expeditions to be respectful and cognizant of both local cultures and environmental issues, or what happens when things go disastrously wrong. That’s for another episode!

If you love following the cutting edge of climbing, or are considering applying to the Cutting Edge Grant yourself this year, or want to soak up Jack’s wisdom, this dive into the history and present of adventure grants is a fascinating look at the logistics it takes to pursue the cutting edge! 

You still have time to apply to the 2024 Cutting Edge Grant, presented by Black Diamond! Apply before midnight on Dec 31, 2024.

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Resources:

Apply to the Cutting Edge Grant

Learn More About Jack Tackle’s Legendary Alpine Climbing Career

Apply to Other AAC Grants

EXPLORE Act Passes and NPS Discontinues Fixed Anchor Proposal

Wrapping up after a long day of work. AAC Member Andy Cochrane.

It has been a momentous week for climbing policy, and we want to thank all of you who shared your voices with your legislators on these matters. The EXPLORE Act, which the AAC and its partners have been working on in some form or another for nearly 10 years, passed with unanimous consent, and is awaiting a presidential signature as we speak. Secondly, the National Park Service announced late Wednesday afternoon (December 18th) that they were discontinuing the development of their proposed fixed anchor guidance.

What does this mean for climbers?

The EXPLORE Act:

The EXPLORE Act, introduced by Rep Bruce Westerman (R-AR) and Rep Raul Grijalva (D-AZ), is a historic recreation package that has had widespread bipartisan support and support from outdoor recreationists of all stripes—including climbers, mountain bikers, hunters, anglers, and more. 

The most important elements of the EXPLORE Act for climbers are two-fold. 

First, EXPLORE includes the Protecting America’s Rock Climbing (PARC) Act, introduced by Rep. Joe Neguse (D-CO) and Rep John Curtis (R-UT). The PARC Act is intended to ensure safe and sustainable access to rock climbing in designated Wilderness areas. It requires federal agencies to recognize recreational climbing as an appropriate activity in accordance with the Wilderness Act of 1964, as well as recognizing that the placement, use, and maintenance of fixed anchors is appropriate. The act also ensures that a public comment period is made available prior to any final climbing management guidance being issued. Essentially, the PARC Act officially recognizes that the use of fixed anchors for climbing (and Search and Rescue operations) continues to be appropriate in Wilderness areas, provided it does not diminish the wilderness character of the area.

Second, EXPLORE includes the Simplifying Outdoor Access for Recreation Act (SOAR Act), which will increase accessibility to the outdoors by improving recreational permitting for outfitters and guides. How? By:

• Streamlining the process of issuing permits to guides and outfitters

• Make more recreation opportunities available by extending the term of temporary permits and creating a program for sharing unused guide days between permit holders.

• Reduce barriers to accessing public lands for school districts, city recreation departments, and university groups.

• Increase permit system transparency by directing the land management agencies to notify the public when new recreation permits are available and ensuring that agencies respond to permit requests in a timely manner.

• Reduce permit fees and costs for small businesses and organizations

• Help control liability insurance costs for permit holders by allowing them to use liability release forms with clients.

Additional elements of the EXPLORE Act include improving access to parks and public lands for veterans and people with disabilities by building additional accessible trails; the BOLT Act, which will create more long-distance biking trails; and the codification of FICOR and the Outdoor Recreation Legacy Partnership, which funds local parks and green spaces, and provides direct access to funding for tribes for developing green spaces.

AAC Member Andy Cochrane

AAC Executive Director Ben Gabriel synthesized this win, saying: “It has been such a privilege to work with all the outdoor recreation organizations, and legislators from both chambers and parties, to see the EXPLORE Act through. This historic recreation package will broadly serve the public, protect recreation resources, and provide for our gateway communities.”

As you might imagine, the AAC is thrilled with what this all means for public lands and accessibility to climbing across the United States! This win would not be possible without the combined efforts of our incredible partners, especially Outdoor Alliance, Access Fund, AMGA, and The Mountaineers. 

Fixed Anchor Policy:

The National Park Service announced on December 18th that they were discontinuing the development of their proposed fixed anchor guidance. The update said that, "Park leaders will continue to manage climbing activities in Wilderness on a park-by-park basis consistent with applicable law and policy, including the Wilderness Act." This announcement comes nearly a year after Park officials sought public comment on proposed regulations which suggested a new interpretation of installations as defined in the Wilderness Act. This new interpretation, which could have prohibited fixed anchors in Wilderness, was met with significant concern from climbers, climbing organizations, and other recreation enthusiasts, as well as search and rescue professionals, throughout the country.  

The AAC thanks the NPS for sensing the need to reevaluate the proposed regulations and looks forward to collaborating with them in the future on fixed anchor guidance.

The AAC, Access Fund, Mountaineers, and many other organizations, worked tirelessly to educate lawmakers on the potential impacts of prohibiting fixed anchors, which resulted in 14 Senators reaching out to the Secretaries of the Department of Interior and Department of Agriculture, requesting an update on the proposed regulations as well as emphasizing their disapproval of the interpretation of the Wilderness Act.

AAC Executive Director, Ben Gabriel, reflects: “We are thankful for the continued integrity and hard work of the NPS. Recognizing the balance of promoting recreation with the preservation of our natural resources, we look forward to working with NPS to develop sound policies that achieve both of these objectives.”

It is important to note that the United States Forest Service is continuing to consider their own proposed climbing management plan regarding fixed anchors in Wilderness areas, but their forthcoming decisions will be impacted by the PARC Act being signed into law. 

Thank you to our many partners for their part in this work. Below, a few of these partners reflect on the significance of the discontinuation of the NPS proposal to their organizations and the climbers they represent:

“The Mountaineers commends the Department of the Interior for withdrawing its proposal to restrict fixed anchors in Wilderness areas. This decision protects sustainable climbing and safe outdoor education, and strengthens the conservation movement to protect public lands. We’re grateful that our federal leaders listened to the voices of climbers, outdoor educators, conservation advocates, Washington State’s U.S. Senators Cantwell and Murray, and all those who value the intersection between human-powered recreation and conservation.” –Tom Vogl, CEO, The Mountaineers

Time for a base camp nap. AAC Member Andy Cochrane

“As climbers, fixed anchors are essential pieces of our safety system that allow us to safely and sustainably access vertical terrain. Without fixed anchors, many of the wildest and most inspiring places in America would become inaccessible to the public.” —Heather Thorne, Executive Director, Access Fund

“This is a meaningful step in the ongoing dialog between the climbing community and the regulatory agencies, NPS and NFS.  Protecting the Wilderness based on the fundamentals of clean climbing a la the Yosemite Climber's Credo is a needed collaboration with mutual goals. ‘United we stand!’”—Jerry Gallwas, YCA Board Chair

“I'm happy to see that wilderness climbing, in iconic locations and lesser-known crags, is protected thanks to the efforts of a broad coalition of passionate climbers and outdoor recreation allies. This decision ensures that climbers will continue to enjoy transformative experiences in these special areas while working toward balanced, long-term solutions that protect both wilderness and climbing access.”—Andrew Blann, Vice President, Arkansas Climber’s Coalition

The Prescription—Fall on Ice | Protection Pulled Out

Ice is a fickle medium that is hard to assess. This month we’re highlighting an accident report from ANAC 2023 involving a leader fall that was compounded by pulled protection. Though the climber was very experienced, this accident underlines that even as more people climb ice than ever before, it takes years of experience to accurately gauge conditions. Also, climate change is increasing the hazards of rockfall, avalanches, ice collapse, and generally warmer ice.

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Tim Thompson (circled in yellow) climbing on the Finger of Fate prior to his accident. The gray, bubbly, and unbonded ice in the lower section of the photo reflects the warm temperatures on the day prior. Dustin Lyons

Fall on Ice | Protection Pulled Out

Provo Canyon, Upper Provo Falls

Utah County Sheriff’s Search and Rescue was dispatched at 11:09 a.m. on December 26 to aid an ice climber who had fallen from the first pitch of Finger of Fate (3 pitches, WI4+) in Provo Canyon.

The climber, Tim Thompson (29), was nearing the end of the first pitch when ice sheared from under his left foot. He wrote to ANAC that he was “pushed forward into my ice tools and my relaxed grip caused me to fall.” Thompson’s uppermost screw pulled out of the ice, causing him to fall a total of 50 feet.

Utah County team members arrived and, with the help of the climbers already on scene, evaluated the ice conditions, established an equalized anchor with six screws at the base of the climb, and developed a plan to move the patient horizontally about 100 feet over steep, slippery terrain to a five-by-ten-foot ledge that was out of the rockfall and icefall area. Conditions were deteriorating, the ice was becoming less cohesive as temperatures rose, and rocks were starting to fall.

A Department of Public Safety (DPS) helicopter crew did a reconnaissance of the ledge and determined that it would be a suitable place for a hoist operation. The patient was then short-hauled from the ledge to a nearby parking lot, where an ambulance was waiting. He was airlifted to a hospital and assessed to have two broken vertebrae, a broken elbow, torn ligaments in an elbow, and a badly broken left wrist.

Tim Thompson after falling from the first pitch of Finger of Fate. Rescuers short-hauled him by helicopter to a waiting ambulance. Photo: Dustin Lyons.

ANALYSIS

Warm conditions make ice climbing hazardous. Recalls Thompson: “The weather was warm the day before. Temps overnight were about 28°F for almost 10 or 12 hours and were hovering around 31°F or 32°F while climbing. We felt confident that the ice had had enough time to heal, and that as long as we climbed quickly, we were in no danger.”

Running water, heat retained by the underlying rock, and even indirect solar radiation can prevent ice from refreezing. The warm temperatures also affected the quality of Thompson’s protection. He wrote to ANAC, “When I put in the last ice screw, the ice was really soft. Up until the last quarter of the route, the ice [had been] really healthy and the screw placements were really good. I got several really solid screws lower on the route, and the second-to-last one (the one that caught me) was in really bomber ice.”

Thompson did well to place extra gear that he might have dismissed as unnecessary. Before the final section of the pitch, he says, “I remember pulling onto the ice after a ledge rest and deciding to step back down and place a high screw. I knew that would be a lot of protection, as the last screw was just below my feet. But if I had not placed this screw, I would have hit the deck from almost 100 feet up. Things could have been a lot worse.”

Sources: Salt Lake County Sheriff’s Search and Rescue and Tim Thompson.

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The Prescription—Video Series

Warm conditions make ice climbing hazardous. Pete Takeda, editor of Accidents in North American Climbing, and IMGA/AMGA Guide Jason Antin are back to explain the hazards ice climbers face in warm conditions, such as protection pulling, poor tool placements, and shearing crampons.

Producers: Shane Johnson and Sierra McGivney; Videographer: Foster Denney; Editor: Sierra McGivney

Location: Silver Plume Falls, Silver Plume, CO

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A NOTE FROM THE EDITOR

Over time an ice climber learns to gauge conditions and most importantly, when to go for it and when to back off. This is a long and experience-based learning curve. The biggest lesson is: If it doesn’t feel right, don’t do it. Whether a novice or an experienced ice climber, don’t factor luck into your decision-making.

Utah guide Derek DeBruin’s flowchart is a handy tool to assess ice climbing decision-making on any given day:

This flowchart can assist in managing hazards by helping determine the stability of the ice, the effectiveness of ice screw protection, and the quality of ice tool placements. Downloadable versions are available here.

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Your contribution will significantly impact climbers—whether they are learning how to avoid accidents through our updated database, using research funding to analyze melting ice caps and the changing heights of iconic mountains, or pursuing first ascents around the world. Your gift makes these things possible.

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Guidebook XII—Member Spotlight

Josh Pollock “smedging” his way up Con Cuidado y Comunidad (5.6) at the Narrow Gauge Slabs. Land of the Ute and Cheyenne peoples. AAC Graphic Designer Foster Denney

Con Cuidado Y Communidad

By Sierra McGivney

Driving towards Highway 285, we pass strips of red rock cutting through the foothills of Morrison in Colorado’s Front Range, chasing the promise of new climbs. In the front seat, Josh Pollock describes the Narrow Gauge Slab, a new crag he has been developing in Jefferson County.

Pollock is the type of person who points out the ecology of the world around him. As the car weaves along the mid-elevation Ponderosa Pine forest, Pollock describes how we’ll see cute pin cushion cacti, black-chinned or broad-tailed hummingbirds, and Douglas-fir tussock moth caterpillars.

We pull into a three-level parking lot about seven miles down the Pine Valley Ranch Road. With no cell service and heavy packs, we set off along an old railroad trail toward the crag. Not even ten minutes into our walk, Pollock turns off, and we are greeted by a Jeffco trail crew building switchbacks to the crag.

As we approach the base of the Narrow Gauge Slab, Pollock picks up the dry soil. Fine granular rocks sit in the palm of his hand as he describes how this is the soil’s natural state because of Colorado’s alpine desert climate.

Photo by Anne Ludolph.

Unsurprisingly, Pollock was a high school teacher at the Rocky Mountain School of Expeditionary Learning in a past life; now, he is a freelance tutor and executive function coach. A Golden local and climbing developer, he has been working to develop the Narrow Gauge Slab since 2021.

Pollock first became interested in route development in 2011. He wasn’t climbing much then, instead focusing on raising his second child. Flipping through a climbing magazine one day, an article about route development caught his eye.

Between naps, diaper changes, and bottle-feeding cycles, he would go for quick trail runs in the foothills by his house in Golden. During his runs, Pollock noticed cliffs that weren’t in guidebooks or on Mountain Project. He began imagining how future climbers might experience and enjoy the rock.

“The routes I can produce for the community are moderate and adventurous but accessible,” said Pollock.

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Climbing in Clear Creek is a high-volume affair. Jeffco Open Space (JCOS), the land management department for Jefferson Country, started to recognize this during the five years from 2008 to 2013 when climbing in the area exploded. With such a high volume of all kinds of outdoor enthusiasts recreating in Jefferson County, including climbers, adverse impacts on the land followed, including increased erosion and propagation of noxious weeds. Previously, Jeffco Open Space took a more hands-off approach when it came to climbing. However, because their mission is to protect and preserve open space and parkland, they concluded the increased popularity of climbing in the area warranted more active management.

While Jeffco Open Space had a few climbers on staff, they quickly realized they were not qualified to make decisions surrounding fixed hardware and route development. They turned to the local climbing community.

In 2015, Pollock began developing routes at Tiers of Zion, a wooded crag overlooking Clear Creek Canyon in Golden. In 2016, Jeffco Open Space established the Fixed Hardware Review Committee (FHRC) with Pollock as one of its seven advisors—now eight. The FHRC provides expert analysis to Jeffco staff members regarding applications for installing or replacing fixed hardware in the area (including slacklining). As a formal collaborative effort between local climbers, route developers, and Jeffco land managers, it is one of the first of its kind in the country.

Eric Krause, the Visitor Relations Program Manager and Park Ranger with Jeffco Open Space, deals with literal and figurative fires weekly and is responsible for all climbing management guidelines. He sits in on meetings and speaks for Jeffco.

“I think really good communication between a landowner or land manager and the climbing community is imperative,” said Krause.

Since 2015, Jeffco Open Space has invested more than 1.5 million dollars to improve the access and sustainability of existing crags by stabilizing eroding base areas, building durable and designated access trails, supplying stainless steel hardware to replace aging bolts, supplying portable toilet bags to reduce human waste at crags, and rehabilitating unsustainable areas.

If new routes for an existing crag are submitted to the FHRC via their online form, it’s already an impacted area, so it’s more likely to be approved. During their quarterly meeting, each member of the FHRC reviews the submission and discusses whether the new route(s) is a worthwhile addition to climbing in Jefferson County. A route that might be denied is within the 5.7-5.10 range at a crag with limited parking and heavy trail erosion, because routes in that range tend to attract the highest volume of climbers.

“We don’t really want to be adding more sites that are just going to degrade, and we’d rather get in there ahead of time and build it out to where it’s sustainable to begin with,” said Krause.

If a new crag is submitted, this triggers an entirely different internal review process called the “New Crag Evaluation Criteria (NCEC),” overseen by Jeffco Open Space. Every individual on the JCOS internal climb- ing committee (comprised of staff from the Park Ranger, Trails, Natural Resources, Planning, Park Services, and Visitor Relations teams) independently rates the new crag based on various categories: potential access trails, environmental considerations, parking, traffic, community input, organizational capacity, visitor experience, and sanitation management. They then average all of the scores for the submitted crag, and its viability is discussed.

To combat the ever-growing need for accessible places for new climbers, families, guided parties, and folks looking for high-quality moderate climbing, Jeffco asked the FHRC and others if they could find a beginner-friendly new crag in the southern part of the county, where there are fewer climbing areas.

According to Krause, Pollock took this request to heart and started looking all over the county for a new crag. He struggled to find a place with adequate parking, access to bathrooms, and the ability to build new trails on stable ground. “Threading that needle is hard, and it took several years and maybe half a dozen possible locations to find one that worked,” said Pollock.

An open space staffer suggested he look at the area that is now the Narrow Gauge Slab.

When Pollock first walked along the base of what would become a major project in his life, the Narrow Gauge Slab, he felt compelled by the rock’s position, composure, and aesthetic. He began imagining routes to climb. The crack features broke the wall up into clean-looking panels.

For Pollock, unlocking the potential of a crag is an unanswered question until the last moment.

“There’s a great drama to it,” said Pollock.

He proposed the crag in 2021. The Narrow Gauge Slab would become the first crag approved under the NCEC framework.

“I think what I’m most excited about is that this whole endeavor has been collaborative and cooperative with Jeffco Open Space from the get-go,” said Pollock.

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Jeffco is constantly playing catch up with erosion damage in an arid climate like the Front Range. At the Narrow Gauge Slab, Jeffco had the opportunity to identify and implement adequate infrastructure for the area before route development began.

“In some ways [it is a] first of its kind experiment, with building a sustainable access trail and stabilizing belay pads on the base area and things like that before lots of user traffic shows up,” said Pollock. The Boulder Climbing Community, the AAC Denver Chapter, and Jeffco collaborated to stabilize and build out the area before the crag opened to the public.

According to Pollock, the crag does not have a theme. Since this crag has many developers, and sometimes multiple developers to any given climb, the route names have personal meaning to the developers or the circumstances of the route. But when you look closely, a kaleidoscope of meaning comes into view: collaboration.

His primary objective with the Narrow Gauge Slab was to develop a moderate and accessible crag, but the project evolved into something much more: mentoring climbers on route development. He reached out to different LCOs, such as Cruxing in Color, Brown Girls Climb Colorado, Escala, Latino Outdoors, and the AAC Denver Chapter, inviting members to participate in a mentorship program based on route development. In total, there are 16 mentees and five mentors, plus Pollock. Despite uncovering the crag, Pollock has barely put any hardware in.

Route development is a niche aspect of climbing that requires extensive resources and knowledge. Pollock wanted to invite new groups of climbers who might not consider themselves route developers but were interested in learning. He is pleased that the mentees have learned from this project and are developing new routes near the Front Range. Some mentees have been swallowed whole by the development bug. Lily Toyokura Hill is so enthused that she was recently appointed to the nearby Staunton Fixed Hardware Review Committee.

Photo by Anne Ludolph.

Hill and Ali Arfeen collaborated on Bonsai, a 5.7 climb featuring a tiny tree sticking out of the rock. Hill, who is shorter, and Arfeen, who is taller, would take Pollock’s kid’s sidewalk chalk and mark key holds they could reach, helping to determine where they would place bolts when they were developing the route’s first pitch.

To the left is Con Cuidado y Comunidad (With Care and Community), a three-pitch 5.6 put up by (P1) Sharon Yun and AAC employee Xavier Bravo, and (P2+3) Maureen Fitzpatrick and Cara Hubbell.

While Pollock racks up to lead Con Cuidado y Comunidad, Douglas-fir caterpillars inter- rupt our conversation. Pollock stops, pointing out the fuzzy horned creature on his bag. He describes how their population erupts every seven to ten years. His father was a biology teacher, and both of his children are fascinated by ecology.

On top of Con Cuidado y Comunidad, we picnic overlooking the epic landscape of the South Platte. Pollock explains how climbing at the Narrow Gauge Slab requires what he calls “smedging,” a mix of smearing and edging.

Climbs are littered with minuscule footholds and often require both smearing and edging to climb. Pollock prefers this type of movement: slow and thoughtful.

The last bolt for the Narrow Gauge Slab was drilled on August 19, just in time for opening day on the 24th. Pollock feels immense pride in the crag.

“It is really satisfying to share the crag with folks and give to the community,” said Pollock.

On these south-facing slabs, there are thirteen routes ranging from 5.4 to 5.9+, spread across the crag’s granite rock. You can listen to the babble of the South Platte River as you climb, breathing in the smell of fresh pine needles as you stand up on a tiny food hold. Don’t forget to look out for the Douglas-fir caterpillars inching their way across the rock as you clip the bolts.

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