Every year, the AAC bestows awards to climbing changemakers and celebrates their accomplishments at the AAC Gala. We’ll be announcing those award winners in mid July, but first, we wanted to give our listeners a sneak peak into the stories awaiting you, through diving into the life and personality of one awardee. We invited the alpinist and climber Kelly Cordes, who will be receiving the Pinnacle Award this year, onto the pod to celebrate his outstanding mountaineering and climbing achievements, and simply to ramble a bit and tell good stories. Though too humble to brag, Cordes is known for his bold ascents, including the Azeem Ridge on Great Trango Tower, a link-up on Cerro Torre, many first ascents in Peru and Alaska, as well as his “disaster style” and “suffer well” philosophy. With a 20-year lens, we have Cordes reflect on the Azeem Ridge story and tell it anew with all that he’s learned since then. We also spend some time talking about his writing life, including supporting editing the AAJ for 12 years, and co-writing the bestseller, The Push, with his close friend Tommy Caldwell. Dive in to get just a taste of Cordes’ story, and why he’s committed to suffering well.
The Prescription—Rappel Fatalities
This month, we recall a tragic accident from 2023 ANAC. While recalling this accident is disturbing, it’s important to understand that there were 14 published rappel accidents that year, eight of which resulted in fatalities. The trend shows no sign of abating. In the upcoming 2025 ANAC, our data tables record a total of 15 reported rappel incidents that involved 23 climbers and ended with five fatalities. It’s not all bad news. In the 2025 ANAC, we also feature an article with tips for improved rappel safety from John Godino of Alpinesavvy.com.
The west face of Tahquitz Rock was the scene of a tragic rappel accident in 2023 when two climbers fell to their deaths after an apparently solid rappel sling broke. Photo: Benjamin Crowell—Wikimedia.
Rappel Fatalities | Broken Anchor Sling
Tahquitz Rock, Riverside County, California
On Wednesday, September 28, 2022, Chelsea Walsh (33), a documentary filmmaker, and Gavin Escobar (31), an ex–Dallas Cowboys football player, died in a fall at Tahquitz Rock (Lily Rock). The Riverside Mountain Rescue Unit (RMRU) responded to the accident and later provided an in-depth analysis. They concluded that a degraded rappel sling caused the fatal fall of several hundred feet. This was one of two fatal accidents in 2022 due to a broken rappel-anchor sling.
RMRU reported that, around 8 a.m., Escobar and Walsh told another climbing party that they intended to climb Dave’s Deviation (3 pitches, 5.9). The weather appeared good, with only a few puffy clouds. At 10:30 a.m., a team on a route to the left, Super Pooper (5.10b), saw Escobar and Walsh near the top of their route. The weather was still good.
Fifteen to thirty minutes later, it began to rain. The team on Super Pooper began talking about retreating. By noon, the weather had gotten even worse. A team on Left Ski Track (5.6) had topped out and took shelter under a rock near the top of The Trough, a four-pitch 5.4. According to the RMRU report, by this time, “(the) weather has significantly deteriorated, with thunder and heavy rain and small hail. Members of both climbing parties were surprised at how quickly the storm intensified. Water was running down rock faces and soaked all climbing gear.”
Between noon and 12:15 p.m., the team on Super Pooper began to retreat. They heard a noise from the direction of Walsh and Escobar’s route and saw two falling climbers and a very large rock falling with them. The four climbers near the top of The Trough heard the same. No one heard rockfall before the sight and sounds of the fall. When RMRU arrived, they found Walsh and Escobar at the base of a gully below The Trough. The location of the bodies aligned with the fall line below a tree that was above the finish of Dave’s Deviation. Later investigation and video taken by Walsh confirmed the pair chose the tree—with an in situ rappel sling—as a bail point. The video also showed Escobar initiating the rappel and both climbers clipped into the single webbing loop. Both climbers appeared in good spirits and unhurried in making their rappel arrangements.
Above, we see the broken sling. At the time of the accident, this sun-bleached sling appeared darker/newer because it was wet from the rain storm that caused the climbers to rappel from this spot. Photo: James Eckhardt/RMRU.
The RMRU reported that the pair were found “wearing helmets, harnesses, and climbing shoes. Chelsea had a PAS girth-hitched through her harness with a locked screwgate at the far end, an unlocked screwgate clipped to an ATC, and an unlocked screwgate clipped to a hollow block. Chelsea was not connected to the rope or any anchor material. Gavin had a single-length sling girth-hitched to his harness’ tie-in points with an unlocked carabiner clipped to the sling and the belay loop. Additionally, an ATC was attached to his belay loop with a locked screwgate and both strands of the rope running through the ATC and through the screwgate. There was a four-to-five-foot loop of rope extending from the top of the ATC with two opposite and opposed wire-gate carabiners clipped to the rope. These carabiners were not connected to anything else. The rope had some sheath damage to the area around the ATC and significant sheath damage a few feet below the ATC, but there were no breaks present. Each end of the rope had a single figure 8 tied into it, one loose and one hand tight.”
The RMRU report summarizes, “As the storm moved in, the party reached the pine tree close to the first pitch of Upper Royal’s Arch and, given the conditions, decided to rappel. By the time they reached the pine tree, the webbing [around the tree] was wet, and as such, it would have been more difficult to ascertain the quality of the webbing without closely inspecting the knot and seeing the original color. They likely clipped into the webbing with their personal anchor systems. As the terrain below the pine tree is sloping, with only small areas to stand, it is likely they would have both been weighting the webbing. They then tied stopper knots into their rope, clipped it through the two wire-gates opposite and opposed, and dropped the ends. Gavin was first on rappel and descended a few feet before the webbing broke. As it was a single strand with no redundancy, both climbers fell. There was no evidence of rockfall hitting the tree or surrounding rock, and the webbing could not have been cut by a rock.
Video Analysis—Rappel Anchors
In this video, Jason Antin, IFMGA/AMGA Guide, gives some tips to avoid mistakes at the anchor:
Avoid rappelling from a single sling.
Avoid rappelling from an anchor made of old webbing.
White or gray nylon webbing is a red flag and needs closer inspection.
Beware of blotchy or faded webbing. Inspect the knot to try to spot an alternate (original) color inside. Try turning a sling over to look at its “under” side, against a tree or chockstone.
Carry a knotted sling or cordelette to back up anchors and a knife to cut away bad webbing and carry it out.
Credits: Pete Takeda, Editor of Accidents in North American Climbing, Jason Antin, IFMGA/AMGA guide; Producer: Shane Johnson and Sierra McGivney; Videographer: Foster Denney; Editor: Sierra McGivney; Location: Little Twin Owls, Lumpy Ridge, CO.
ANALYSIS
Rappelling from a single sling is not advisable. Nor is rappelling from an anchor comprised of old webbing. That said, most experienced climbers (the editors included) have at one time or another done both. Walsh and Escobar were very experienced and, based on their video, they felt in control of the situation. While the weather played a factor in their decision to retreat, it also indirectly played a role in the team’s decision to use the questionable rappel sling. The rain had made the sling appear in much better condition than it was. The RMRU report states, “The webbing felt old and stiff when dry, but when wetted, it felt significantly better and looked much less faded. It was gray/white…however, upon retrieval and closer inspection, it had originally been fluorescent green and was now fully faded from prolonged sun UV exposure.”
The RMRU report added that, “The unfaded color was visible in the knot, however it was very difficult to see without close inspection.” Any white or gray nylon webbing at an anchor is a red flag: Such webbing is sold, but it’s uncommon, and it suggests closer inspection. The same goes for any blotchiness (from fading) in the webbing. Inspecting the knot for soundness is a good step, for obvious reasons, but possibly spotting an alternate color inside the knot is also good reason to inspect it. Also, try turning a sling over to look at its “under” side, against a tree or chockstone. These days, sewn aramid-fiber slings are the norm. It is expensive to leave behind long looped runners as rappel anchors. To get around this problem, consider carrying a long knotted sling or cordelette that is better suited for backing up suspect anchors; a knife will be handy to cut the sling to length. This solution is inexpensive and reasonably light weight. (Sources: James Eckhardt, RMRU, and the Editors.)
These are images of the failed webbing rappel anchor from Tahquitz Rock. (A) Webbing as it was found on tree, with arrows indicating the two broken ends. (B) Image showing the full length of webbing retrieved with break and (C) close-up image of break. (D) Test 1: webbing broke at 2.54kN. (E) Test 2: webbing broke at knot at 3.56kN. Image also shows the original color (neon green) of the webbing. (F) Test 3: webbing broke at 3.2kN. Photos: RMRU.
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The Line: Coveted Chinese Wall Finally Climbed
The west face of Seerdengpu, a towering rocky summit of 5,592 meters in China’s Siguniang National Park, had been attempted at least a dozen times without success. Among others, West Virginia climber Pat Goodman tried six different lines during three separate expeditions. In 2024, a Chinese climber finally topped out on the 850-meter face, in his fourth year of attempts. Unable to secure a permit, he climbed alone and in secret in August 2024, completing only the second known ascent of the peak. Below is his story.
SEERDENGPU, WEST FACE
The west face of Seerdengpu (5,592m), approximately 850 meters high. Prior to 2024, the peak had only been climbed once, in 2010, by Americans Dylan Johnson and Chad Kellogg. The west face had been attempted at least a dozen times without success. Photo: Griff.
In 2015, when I first saw Seerdengpu (5,592m) from the west, I never thought that one day I would stand on the summit. The ca 850m west face was one of the great unclimbed walls of Siguniang National Park and had been attempted many times, notably by American Pat Goodman. In 2013, with Matt McCormick, he made unsuccessful attempts on three different lines, then later another attempt with Marcus Costa, and another, more toward the southwest, with David Sharratt. Costa made another attempt with Enzo Oddo. The face had also been tried by Russian, Australian, Polish, and Chinese teams. Loose terrain and objective danger appear to have been a common problem.
Until 2024, Seerdengpu had only one ascent. In 2010, Dylan Johnson and Chad Kellogg (both USA) climbed the northeast ridge (see note below). Prior to their ascent, four parties had attempted the north face.
I first tried the west face in August 2021 but chose a poor line and retreated after 80 meters. In 2022, I changed to the previously attempted line on the right side of the wall (the line attempted by Costa and Goodman, as well as the Russian and Chinese teams). I retreated after 350 meters. Over three weeks in July 2023, I only reached 200 meters up the same line. I returned in August 2024.
Unable to get an official permit, I had to work alone, as porters did not dare provide service. [Because of this, the author is using an alias.] I entered the valley several times as a tourist, each time carrying a 40-liter bag. In the end, I ferried a total of 75kg of equipment from the road in Shuangqiao Valley to my base camp at 4,500 meters.
French climber Enzo Oddo in the ice gully on the west face of Seerdengpu in January 2015. Oddo and Marcos Costa attempted a winter ascent, hoping to avoid the rockfall danger that plagued other attempts. The ice was excellent, but two-thirds of the face still involved hazardous rock climbing. The successful 2024 ascent followed the same gully in August. Photo: Marcos Costa.
After the initial 170 meters of the face, which is 5.7, the route enters a gully. It is always wet. Some previous attempts had failed due to the volume of water, and in 2015 Costa and Oddo tried this route in January, finding the gully nicely frozen but the rock above dangerously loose. They retreated from the Russian high point. I kept mostly in the bed of the narrow gully, which was wet and loose, but easier (5.8 C1+). I made my first portaledge camp at the top of the gully at around 5,100 meters.
On the first day above the portaledge, I climbed 80 meters at 5.9 C1+. When I rappelled to the ledge that evening, I found two holes in the fly, one of them large. A small bag on the ledge had also been hit and damaged. The next day, I climbed up left on loose but easy rock (5.6), found a site for my next camp, and spent all the following day moving my equipment to Camp 2 (5,250m).
On August 24, I aided a horizontal crack and took the only fall of the route. I retreated and took a different line, a corner with a thin crack that evolved into a chimney. It was a brilliant 60m pitch at 5.9+ C2. (I suspect it would go free at 5.11 or 5.11+.) Above this, I traversed left using all my 70m rope, then went back to the portaledge for the night. I found it difficult to sleep due to the cold, and perhaps the excitement of being close to the top.
On the 25th, I regained my high point and continued up at 5.8 C1+. That day I dropped an ascender, a Camalot, and a sling. I realized that I was losing concentration and needed to be more careful. That night, I didn’t get to sleep until 3 a.m. I was sick and cold. I left Camp 2 again at 8 a.m. on August 26—a total of 27 days since I first started ferrying loads from the road. I reached my high point at 11 a.m. and climbed for a further 150 meters to the top of the face. From there I walked 200 meters over ice and boulders to reach the highest point of the mountain, at 2:55 p.m., for its second ascent.
Close-up view of the first ascent of the west face of Seerdengpu. The wall is about 850 meters high, and the climbing distance of the route totaled about 1,200 meters. Photo: Griff.
Unfortunately, just 50 meters before reaching the summit, a loose boulder fell onto my left foot and broke a toe. As I started back down, it began to rain. Four hours of rappelling through rain and sleet took me back to the portaledge. My foot was painful and didn’t look good, so I decided I should get off the mountain the next day and called friends to let them know.
On the 27th, I threw some gear and the portaledge off the wall and rappelled from 11:30 a.m. to 5:30 p.m., reaching base camp that day. A few days later I was in a Beijing hospital, having an operation on my toe. My friends later collected my gear from base camp.
I named the route Wild Child. It has around 1,200 meters of climbing up to 5.9+ C2. I did not carry a bolt kit, but there are five bolts in the initial gully, all installed by a 2014 Chinese team for rappel anchors. Higher, there is one bolt at Camp 1, thought to have been installed by the Russian team.
—Ma Fang, China
Editor’s Note: Because he climbed without a permit, the author of this report used a pseudonym for his AAJ story.
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SEERDENGPU: THE FIRST ASCENT
Seerdengpu from the north, with the line of the first ascent by the northeast ridge (mostly hidden). The "nose", unsuccessfully attempted by several teams, divides shadow and sunlight. The west face, climbed in 2024 for the mountain’s second ascent, is partially in view to the right. Photo: Dylan Johnson.
American climbers Dylan Johnson and Chad Kellogg made the first ascent of Seerdengpu in 2010, two years after climbing a new route up nearby Siguniang. On their third attempt in 2010, the pair climbed the northeast ridge of Seerdengpu in a 34-hour round-trip push from their high camp. It was Johnson’s third summit in the Qionglai Mountains and Kellogg’s seventh. Tragically, Kellogg died less than four years later in a rockfall accident in Patagonia. Johnson’s report about the Seerdengpu climb appeared in AAJ 2011: Read it here.
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The Line is the newsletter of the American Alpine Journal (AAJ), powered by Arc’teryx, with additional support from Mountain Project by onX. The line is emailed to more than 80,000 climbers each month. Find the archive of past editions here. Got a potential story for the AAJ? Email the editors at [email protected].
2025 Climbing Accident Trends: What the Data Tells Us
It’s that time of year again–the AAC has invited the editor of Accidents in North American Climbing, Pete Takeda, to hop on the pod to chat about emerging trends in climbing accidents. This year, we’re also delighted to have a conversation with Dr. Valerie Karr, a professor at UMASS who has stepped in to help us with a massive data analysis project. Valerie used grounded theory analysis to parse through 20 years of accidents data—picking out patterns in how human behavior contributes to accidents. We discuss some examples like risk normalization, the mentor trap, and attitudes around fixed gear. Dive into the podcast to hear about her findings and learn more about the case studies that stuck out to the editors this year.
Guidebook XIV—Policy Spotlight
Photo by AAC member Kennedy Carey.
EXPLORE—An Act and The Act
By AAC Advocacy Director Byron Harvison
Photos by AAC member Kennedy Carey
Act
1. A thing done; a deed.
2. A written ordinance of Congress, or another legislative body; a statute.
3. A main division of a play, ballet, or opera.
Drama
1. A play for theater, radio, or television.
2. An enticing, emotional, or unexpected series of events or set of circumstances.
EXPLORE, in the waning days of the 118th Congress, met every definition of the words “drama” and “act” as it made its way into becoming law. As I sat at my computer watching Senator Joe Manchin ask for unanimous consent of the bill on the Senate floor, it was not lost on me that years of work, by hundreds of organizations, teetered on the edge of achievement. And it passed in a most glorious fashion. But let me back up just a bit...
Act 1, Scene 1
Not too long ago, in early December of 2024, the AAC policy team traveled to Washington, DC, and met up with the Access Fund and American Mountain Guides Association (AMGA). The mission was clear—examine and pursue all avenues to get the EXPLORE Act passed. At that time, attachment to the National Defense Authorization Act (NDAA) was still on the table, as was the possibility of being bundled in with the Continuing Resolution (CR) to keep the government funded. Additionally, there was the less probable route of the bill going “stand-alone” for a unanimous consent vote on the Senate floor, but we sensed that there wasn’t enough floor time, especially given the need to end the lame-duck session of Congress, and the condition that a unanimous consent vote had to actually be unanimous without a single dissenting vote.
Photo by AAC member Kennedy Carey.
It was an all-hands-on-deck moment for recreation-based organizations—Outdoor Alliance, Outdoor Recreation Roundtable, Surfrider, The Mountaineers, IMBA, Outdoor Industry Association, organizations representing hunting and fishing interests and RV interests, and many, many more orgs, all working simultaneously in an effort to see this historic recreation bill package passed.
Our small team focused a lot of effort on speaking with the bipartisan group of 16 senators that submitted a joint letter to the Secretaries of Agriculture and the Interior expressing the appropriateness of fixed anchors in Wilderness and wanting a report on the status of the agencies’ respective proposed fixed anchor regulations. The Protecting America’s Rock Climbing (PARC) Act, a component of the EXPLORE Act that serves to recognize recreational climbing (including the use, placement, and maintenance of fixed anchors) as an appropriate use within the National Wilderness Preservation System, further emphasized the intent of those senators, and of Congress more broadly, to preserve the historical and well-precedented practice of fixed anchor utilization in Wilderness.
Scene 2
It is no secret that the waning days of the 118th Congress were fairly chaotic. Characterized by the forthcoming change of administrations, few clear “unified” priorities, and the pending departure of several longtime members of Congress, the landscape was hard to navigate. We left DC understanding the potential pathways to passage of EXPLORE, but still not certain which vehicle would get it across the finish line. The following week we saw it miss the cut for the NDAA Manager’s Amendment and concentrated on advocating for its inclusion in the CR. As the days drew closer to a potential government shutdown, we came to understand that the CR was likely going to be relatively tight compared to previous iterations, and would probably not allow for bills such as EXPLORE to ride on it. The CR was out for us. That is when we heard that Senator Joe Manchin (I-WV) was considering introducing EXPLORE as a stand-alone bill.
Photo by AAC member Kennedy Carey.
This was INCREDIBLE news. However, we had some concerns as we knew that the Senate was working off of the House-passed version, which had been passed via unanimous consent (UC) in April of 2024, stewarded by Rep. Bruce Westerman (R-AR). We understood that the Senate wanted the House to address some issues in the bill, but that would require the bill to be sent back to the House for consideration and a vote...which would require time. And there wasn’t any.
On the morning of December 19, we heard that Senator Manchin was planning to introduce the House version of EXPLORE on the Senate floor for a UC vote. For those tuning into the live broadcast, we had no idea what time the possible introduction would occur. It was observable that Senator Manchin was talking to a group of senators and then left the floor. A few hours later Senator Manchin appeared and presented the EXPLORE Act for consideration via a UC vote. During his introduction, he emphasized that the EXPLORE Act was “...something that we all agree on” and that “the House and Senate are in agreement,” and that there were some changes that needed to be made but could be accomplished during the next Congress. Now keep in mind, in order to pass via UC there cannot be a single vote of dissent.
Scene 3
After Senator Manchin teed the bill up for a vote, Senator Ted Cruz (R-TX) stepped up to the podium. He began by reserving his right to object until the end of his speech. This is to say that no one knew whether he would be objecting and opposing the UC of EXPLORE or allowing it to pass. He spoke to his TAKE IT DOWN Act, which is a bill seeking to protect victims of deepfake pornography. The years of work on all the bills associated with EXPLORE hung in the balance—all the work on SOAR, BOLT, VIP, and Recreation Not Red Tape, on the precipice of passage. You can imagine all the breaths that were being held while Senator Cruz spoke.
“I do not object.”
Those words, spoken as a favor to retiring Senator Manchin and Rep. Westerman, provided true theater drama that we are generally accustomed to watching in a much different environment. The historic EXPLORE Act was passed, via unanimous consent through the Senate, and was on its way to the president. On January 4, 2025, President Biden signed the EXPLORE Act into law, and it became Public Law Number 118-234.
Act 1, Scene 3, complete.
Act 2
As EXPLORE was being teed up for a vote in the Senate, the National Park Service quietly announced that it was withdrawing its proposed fixed anchor guidance. This gesture suggests a new window of opportunity for climbing organizations, as well as other interested recreation and search and rescue organizations, to work in collaboration with land agencies to develop sound fixed anchor policies that reflect the direction of Congress and their passing of the PARC Act.
The AAC Policy Team and the Executive Director have visited DC over the last two months, working carefully with our partner organizations in these quickly evolving times to support the implementation of EXPLORE, discuss impacts on our public lands as a result of the federal reductions in force, and address other issues.
Stay tuned on the AAC’s digital platforms to learn more about the status of public lands policies, and how they impact, or may impact, climbers.
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Guidebook XIV—An Interview with Dougald MacDonald
Photo by AAC staff Foster Denney.
How would you describe the scope of the work that goes into making the American Alpine Journal (AAJ)?
Dougald MacDonald: Producing the AA J is a year-round effort that involves literally hundreds of people. The actual “staff” of the AAJ (who are all part-timers and volunteers) includes more than 15 people, and each year we work with roughly 300 individual climbers and photographers to share their stories.
The book goes to press in late April, so the peak of the cycle is in March and April. But the work on the following year’s edition starts immediately, plus we prepare and upload online stories all year round. AND we produce The Cutting Edge podcast and the monthly Line newsletter.
What’s the history of the AAJ? How has it changed over the years?
DM: The AAJ is coming up on its 100th birthday, and unsurprisingly it has changed quite a lot over the years. It started out as much more of a Club publication, telling the stories of AAC members’ adventures. In the 1950s, with the rise of Himalayan climbing, the book started to become much more international. But it was really Ad Carter—who edited the AAJ for 35 years, starting in the 1960s—who created the wide-ranging, international publication it is today. We no longer focus mostly on the activities of AAC members—though we’re very happy to tell those stories when we can—but instead try to document all significant long routes and mountain exploration anywhere in the world, by climbers from every country.
For both the AAJ and Accidents in North American Climbing (ANAC), the most significant changes of the last 10 to 15 years have been 1) the introduction of color photography throughout both books and 2) the launch of the searchable online database of every AAJ and ANAC article ever published.
Dougald questing off in Lumpy Ridge, Rocky Mountain National Park, CO. Land of the Cheyenne people. Photo by AAC member and former AAJ senior editor Kelly Cordes.
What’s an example of a unique challenge the editors have to deal with when making the AAJ?
DM: One challenge is that we come out so long after many of the climbs actually happened. So, readers may have seen something about any given climb several times, in news reports and social media posts and even video productions. But the AAJ has never been in the breaking news business. Instead, we aim to provide perspective and context. Perspective in that we don’t have any vested interest that might slant a story one way or another, and context on the history and geography that helps readers really understand the significance of a climb, how it relates to what’s been done before, and what other opportunities might be out there. Another big challenge is language barriers, since we work with people from all over the world. We’re fortunate to work in English, which so many people around the world use these days. We also use skilled translators for some stories, and online translation tools have improved dramatically in recent years. But there’s still a lot of back-and-forth with authors to ensure we’re getting everything just right.
What’s an example report that was really exciting for you to edit from the last few years?
DM: For me, personally, the coolest stories are the ones that teach me about an area of the world—or a moment in climbing history—that I knew nothing about before starting to work on a story. In the upcoming book, for example, we have stories about winter climbing in Greece (who knew?) and a mountain range in Venezuela that’s gorgeous and has peaks over 16,000 feet. Unfortunately, that range is rapidly losing its snow cover and its small glaciers. AAJ senior editor Lindsay Griffin, who is editing the story, did some cool climbs in the range in 1985, and the difference between his photos and those from today is shocking.
Are there any big differences in process between making the AAJ and ANAC?
DM: The biggest differences are just the scale and scope of the two books: The AAJ is a nearly 400-page book that tries to cover the entire world, and ANAC averages 128 pages and focuses on North America. There’s also a sense of starting from scratch on lots of AAJ reports, since the mountain or area in question may be entirely unfamiliar to the editor handling a story, whereas most of the accident types are all too familiar. Still, there’s always something new to learn in both books, and that makes the work very interesting and rewarding.
What emotions are you wrestling with when you ultimately send off this book to the printer?
DM: One word: relief! But also a lot of pride for what we accomplish.
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The American Alpine Journal and Accidents in North American Climbing are more than publications—they are the home to essential climbing knowledge. The AAJ is the sport’s definitive collection of cutting-edge climbing reports, and Accidents is the most in-depth accident analysis available to the climbing community. These publications are some of our most treasured member resources, and YOU make them possible!
By joining Friends of the AAJ and Accidents, you ensure these essential educational tools continue to inform and inspire climbers everywhere.
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Guidebook XIV—Member Spotlight
Photo courtesy of the Grunsfeld Collection.
No Mountain High Enough
The Intersections between Space Travel and High-Altitude Mountaineering
Member Spotlight: Dr. John Grunsfeld, Astronaut
By Hannah Provost
Spacewalking outside the Hubble Space Telescope, John Grunsfeld wasn’t that much closer to the stars than when he was back on the surface of Earth, but it certainly felt that way. The sensation of spacewalking, of constantly being in freefall, but orbiting Earth fast enough that it felt like weightlessness, was more of a thrill than terrifying. Looking out to the vaster universe, seeing the moon in its proximity, the giant body of the sun, stole his breath away. Grunsfeld was experiencing a sense of exploration that very few humans get to. It was deeply moving, a sensation he also got in the high glaciated ranges when he’d look around and be surrounded by crevasses and granite walls of rock and ice. Throughout his life, he couldn’t help but seek out the most inhospitable places on the planet, and even beyond.
You might think that there is nothing similar between climbing and spacewalking. But when you ask John Grunsfeld, former astronaut and NASA Chief Scientist—and an AAC member since 1996—about the similarities, the connections are potent.
The focus required of spacewalking and climbing is very much the same, Grunsfeld says. Just like you can’t perform at your best on the moves of a climb high above the ground without intense focus on the next move and the currents of balance in your body, so, too, suited up in the 300-pound spacesuit, with 4.3 pounds per square inch of oxygen, and 11 layers of protective cloth insulation, you still have to be careful not to bump the space shuttle, station, or telescope as you go about the work of repairing and updating such technology—the job of the mission in the first place. Outside the astronaut’s suit is a vacuum, and Grunsfeld is not shy about the stakes. “Humans survive seconds when vacuum-exposed,” he says. With such high risks, it’s a shame that the AAC rescue benefit doesn’t work in space.
Not only is spacewalking, like climbing, inherently dangerous, it also requires intense focus, and it can be a lot like redpointing. Grunsfeld reflects that “it’s very highly scripted. Every task that you’re going to do is laid out long before we go to space. We practice extensively.” In Grunsfeld’s three missions to the Hubble Space Telescope, his spacewalks were a race against the clock—the battery life and limited oxygen that the suit supplied versus the many highly technical tasks he had to perform to update the Hubble instruments and repair various electronic systems. It’s about flow, focus, and execution—skills and a sequence of moves that he had practiced again and again on Earth before coming to space. Similarly, tether management is critical. Body positioning, and not getting tangled in the tether, is important in order to not break something—say, kick a radiator and cause a leak that destroys Hubble and his fellow astronauts inside. But to Grunsfeld, the risk is worth it. The Hubble Space Telescope is “the world’s most significant scientific instrument and worth billions of dollars. Thousands of people are counting on that work.”
Indeed, perhaps a little more is at stake than a send or a summit.
Grunsfeld climbing at Devil’s Lake, WI. Land of the Myaamia and Peoria people. Photo by AAC member Tom Loeff.
Growing up in Chicago, Grunsfeld’s mind first alighted on the world of science and adventure through the National Geographic magazines he devoured, and a school project that had an outsized effect. Grunsfeld’s peers were assigned to write a brief biography of people like George Washington and Babe Ruth. Rather than these more familiar figures, Grunsfeld was assigned to research the life of Enrico Fermi—a nuclear physicist who was instrumental in the Manhattan Project, the creator of the world’s first artificial nuclear reactor, and a lifelong mountaineer. Suddenly, science and the alpine seemed deeply intertwined.
Grunsfeld started climbing as a teenager, top-roping in Devil’s Lake, back when the cutting edge of gear innovation meant climbing by wrapping the rope around your waist and tying it with a bowline. Attending a NOLS trip to the Wind River Range and further expanding on his rope and survivor skills truly cemented his love of climbing in wild spaces. Throughout the years, climbing was a steady beat in his life, a resource for joy. He would climb in Lumpy Ridge, the Sierra, the White Mountains of New Hampshire, Tahquitz, Peru, Bolivia, and many other places with his wife, Carol, his daughter, and close friends like Tom Loeff, another AAC member.
If climbing was a steady beat, his fascination with space and astrophysics would be a starburst. At first, his application to become a NASA astronaut was denied, but in 1992, Grunsfeld joined the NASA Astronaut Corps. It would shape the rest of his life’s work. Between 1995 and 2009, Grunsfeld completed five space shuttle flights, three of which were to the Hubble Space Telescope—which many consider to be one of the most impactful scientific tools of modernity, because of how its 24/7 explorations of space have informed astronomy. On these missions, Grunsfeld performed eight spacewalks to service and upgrade Hubble’s instruments and infrastructure. Over the course of his career, he has also served as the Associate Administrator for Science at NASA and the Chief Scientist at NASA Headquarters in Washington, DC. His own research is in the field of planetary science and the search for life beyond Earth.
Grunsfeld [left] and team on the summit of Denali (Mt. McKinley), Denali National Park, AK. Photo provided by Grunsfeld Collection.
But in 1999, even with two space missions under his belt, Grunsfeld couldn’t get the pull of high-altitude mountaineering out of his mind. He has an affinity for the adventure of exploring some of the most adverse places humans have ever explored. He was ready for his next great adventure. He wanted to climb Denali (Mt. McKinley).
Many aspects of Grunsfeld’s Denali saga are familiar. Various trips resulted in unsuccessful summit attempts: from a rope team he didn’t fully trust, to eight days at the 17,000-foot high camp with bad weather. On his 2000 attempt, he was followed around by cameras for a PBS special that never came to fruition, and he attempted an experiment about core temperatures in high-altitude terrain using NASA technology. Ultimately the expedition came back empty-handed—without a summit and with a faulty premise for their measurements of core temperature. When he returned in 2004 with a team of NASA colleagues, Grunsfeld was able to stand atop Denali and take in the jagged peaks all around him.
The connections between climbing and space travel aren’t limited to the physical demand, focus, and calm required. Both activities are inherently dangerous, and nobody participating in either of these activities has been left unscathed. Just like how many climbers have had a friend or an acquaintance experience a significant climbing accident, Grunsfeld knew the true danger of space travel. In 2003 while Grunsfeld was still in Houston, one of the most tragic space shuttle disasters in American space history occurred. On reentry into the atmosphere, the space shuttle Columbia experienced a catastrophic failure over East Texas. According to NASA’s website, the catastrophic failure was “due to a breach that occurred during launch when falling foam from the External Tank struck the Reinforced Carbon Carbon panels on the underside of the left wing.” Grunsfeld was the field lead for crew recovery—picking up the pieces of the disaster so as to bring the bodies of the lost crew members home. It’s no wonder that in other parts of his life and in his climbing, he is deeply committed to safety and disseminating as much climbing knowledge as possible about safety concerns.
After the Columbia disaster, Grunsfeld was often asked why he would consider going back to space when the risks were so high. On his final flight to the Hubble Space Telescope in 2009, Grunsfeld reports, there was a 62% probability that he and his team would come back alive. Those aren’t the most inspiring mathematical odds. But as a crew, and for the agency NASA, it was critical to update the technology on the Hubble Space Telescope at that time. He reflects: “It may seem crazy to fly with those odds, but in fact my earlier missions were much more risky, we just didn’t know it at the time.” In comparison, risk assessment in the mountains is considerably more individualized.
Space exploration and mountaineering also have a distinct investment in monitoring the state of our natural landscapes and environment. From space, it’s a lot easier to see how fragile and small Earth is, in the grand scheme of things. It’s also easier to see the changing climate and its impact across the planet. Putting on his scientist hat, Grunsfeld tried to capture the significance of space observations to climate research, saying, “Most of what we know about our changing climate is now from space observations, because we get to see the whole Earth all the time, and you really have to look at sea level not as a local phenomenon, but [look at] how does it change over a whole Earth for a variety of different reasons.”
From sea level rise to vanishing bodies of water, Grunsfeld has seen some dramatic changes to Earth’s surface from the first time he was in space, in 1995, to his last time in 2009. With his decades of exploration in the mountains, he’s also seen glaciers and once permanent snowfields disappear. You can tell from the passion in his voice that Grunsfeld has a keen awareness of what’s at stake as the climate changes—he’s seen it happening already.
In addition to bringing Grunsfeld to incredible places, climbing also brought him into close connection with incredible people. Grunsfeld had originally met the famous photographer, and fellow AAC member, Brad Washburn through AAC annual meetings and at Boston’s Museum of Science, where Washburn was the director for many years. Their friendship would result in two incredibly rare moments for climbing, photography, and space exploration.
Photo provided by the Grunsfeld Collection.
Washburn, the raspy-voiced photographer who was excellent at pulling off the unbelievable, was working on a documentary recreating the famous journey of the explorer Ernest Shackleton when he called up Grunsfeld for a favor. For the film crew to cross the mountainous, cold, and deeply unfriendly landscape of South Georgia just like Shackleton did in 1916 was still an incredibly unlikely feat. Luckily, Grunsfeld had what you might call “pull.”
“I was able to get space shuttle photography from a classified DOD shuttle flight which flew over South Georgia and made these huge prints for Brad,” Grunsfeld says—ultimately giving Washburn and his team the information they needed to safely traverse this rugged terrain.
But that wasn’t the end of Grunsfeld and Washburn’s story. Grunsfeld was attempting Aconcagua in 2007 when Barbara Washburn called to share the news that her husband had passed away. When Grunsfeld landed back in the States and was able to connect with Barbara on the phone, he offered to do something to honor his relationship with Washburn. His 2009 space mission was coming up, and he could take something of Washburn’s along. In the end, Grunsfeld brought Washburn’s camera from the famous Lucania expedition on his last flight to the Hubble Space Telescope. The 80-year-old camera (at the time) was used to take photographs from Hubble, including an image of the Hubble Space Telescope with Earth’s rim in the background, as seen on the back cover of this Guidebook. Washburn’s camera and the prints of the photos that Grunsfeld took remain as some of the AAC Library’s most fascinating holdings in the climbing archives.
But in fact, Grunsfeld’s (and Washburn’s) story isn’t the first to connect the vastly different fields of astrophysics and mountaineering. Lyman Spitzer, a longtime AAC member and supporter of the Club, and a prolific mountaineer, is credited for the idea that led to the Hubble Space Telescope. It almost makes Grunsfeld’s life’s work seem written in the stars.
Surprisingly, Grunsfeld reflects that there is little time for fear in space travel. Take launch, for example. The astronauts in the space shuttle are sitting on “four and half million pounds of explosive fuel,” says Grunsfeld, ticking down the seconds until they are launched into space. The launch mechanics are so powerful that within eight and a half minutes, the shuttle is traveling 17,500 miles per hour, orbiting Earth. Grunsfeld recalls that on his first mission, sitting in the flight deck of space shuttle Endeavor, at 30 seconds to launch, he heard the final instructions over the intercom: Close your visor, turn your oxygen on, and have a good flight. Was this the point he was supposed to get scared? There was no turning back, no getting off, no stopping the ride. So he didn’t let fear in. There was no use for it. And at the same time, there was so much awe that despite the risk, he felt deeply alive. It was a lot like the calm that comes with executing in the face of danger when climbing or in the mountains. In the face of danger, utter clarity.
With the focus and body awareness and rehearsal, the firsthand witnessing of our changing climate and its impacts, the risks involved and the utter sense of awe, space-walking and climbing are not as different as they might at first seem. And for Grunsfeld, one adventure could fuel another. In his downtime floating within Hubble, one of his favorite activities used to be looking back down on Earth, using a camera with a long lens to zoom in on various alpine regions—and scout the next mountain to climb.
The Yosemite Big Wall Permit System: Impact and Logistics
Nico Favresse, Yosemite, US, Alien Finish 12b, Rostrum. PC: Jan Novak.
Climbers and other visitors who plan on entering Yosemite National Park between 6 a.m. and 2 p.m. from June 15 thru August 15, 2025, or during Memorial and Labor Day weekends, will require reservations. Visitors holding a Half Dome or wilderness permit, in-park camping or lodging reservations, or entering on a regional or tour bus will be exempt from reservation requirements. Reservations will be available on Recreation.gov beginning on May 6, 2025 at 8 a.m. PDT, with additional reservations becoming available 7 days prior to any arrival date. Reservations will cost $2, and each visitor will be allowed to make two entry reservations per three-day period.
Yosemite's iconic granite walls draw climbers, hikers, and outdoor recreationists from all over the world. Big wall climbers spend long days on El Cap and Half Dome above the valley floor, attempting free ascents or classic aid climbs. Due to the park's growing popularity, reservations and permit systems have been implemented. Climbing is no exception.
In 2021, Yosemite NPS began a two-year big wall permit system pilot program in hopes it would help climbing rangers understand patterns on the wall and minimize negative impacts on the landscape through education. In January 2023, the permit program became permanent, and now all climbers staying overnight on big walls are required to have a permit.
PC: Andrew Burr
As with everything in the climbing community, there has been a lot of discourse surrounding this, as seen on Reddit and Mountain Project threads over the past couple of years. Climbers speculated: Would the rangers be enforcing a quota? Would these permits be available 24/7, or would reservations need to be made in advance? Would climbers have to use the dreaded recreation.gov?
Through the permit system, big wall permits are free and available for climbers to self-register 24 hours a day, 7 days a week, near the El Capitan Bridge at a kiosk near the food lockers. There is no quota for routes.
In addition to timed permits, during peak hours (6 a.m. and 2 p.m. on Memorial Day weekend, any day between June 15 and August 15, or Labor Day weekend), climbers must make reservations to enter the park. This is a timed entry reservation that is also used at other parks, such as Zion National Park, Rocky Mountain National Park, and Arches National Park, allowing the park to regulate the influx of visitors.
There is no formal check-in with the rangers after climbing (or bailing). Yosemite climbing rangers and stewards use the information they gather from the permit system to update an Instagram account that reports on big wall traffic. The Instagram's daily posts include information for the number of people on popular climbs like Freerider/Salathe, Zodiac, and Regular Northwest Face of Half Dome.
"It is a work in progress, but we are trying to find a sustainable way to get that information out to climbers so that people can disperse from crowded routes if they want," said Yosemite Climbing Ranger Cameron King. The feedback the rangers have received on the account has been positive.
Below, we've created a guide to help you navigate your next Yosemite trip filled with all the fine print and details to minimize route finding off the wall.
How To Climb a Big Wall in Yosemite: A Checklist
PC: Andrew Burr.
How to Get Your Wilderness Big Wall Climbing Permit
Permits are free, and there is no quota. Climbers can self-register 24 hours per day, 7 days per week, at a kiosk near the food lockers near El Capitan Bridge.
You can pick up your permit the day before or the day of the start of your overnight climb. This allows for more in-person education opportunities but doesn't limit climbers to "office hours."
Up to eight people can be on a wilderness climbing permit.
There is some flexibility, so you're not locked in! If the trip leader, formation, route, and dates remain the same, and the maximum number of people specified on the permit is not exceeded, things can change last minute.
If the number of people on the permit changes, the trip leader is not required to change the permit, and it will still be valid.
The permit system is not held to a quota, so there is no need to fill out the permit for the maximum number of people if you are unsure about the number of climbers in your party. The rangers encourage folks to be as accurate as possible when filling out the permit.
You don't want to miss this: Climbers with a Wilderness Climbing Permit are eligible to spend one night before and one night after an overnight climb in an open backpacker's campground.
The cost is $8 per night (per person); reservations are not required.
Tent camping only, no sleeping in your car.
For 2025, White Wolf campground is closed, and Tuolumne Meadows is set to open in August.
The Fine Print from Yosemite NPS:
Except for the base of Half Dome, camping at the base of any Yosemite Valley Wall is prohibited. Camping on top of Half Dome is also prohibited. You must be at least one topo pitch above ground level before you can bivouac on the wall.
When camping in legal areas or at the base or summit of walls, select previously impacted sites or durable surfaces. Trampling vegetation is prohibited.
Fires are prohibited at the summit and base areas of all Yosemite Valley Walls (Half Dome, El Capitan, Washington Column, etc.)
Packing out your solid human waste from the wall is required. You must have an adequate container to carry your human waste from the wall. Once you have finished, you cannot leave your human waste (or container) unattended—dispose of waste properly in dumpsters (wag bags, etc.) or pit toilets (paper/waste only). Consider packing out urine from popular routes/bivy sites as well.
Carry out all trash. Water bottles are considered trash if left behind.
Proper food storage is mandatory. All food must be hung on the wall at least 50 feet above the base of the route in 5th class terrain (or Aid). Do not leave food unattended while shuttling loads for your climb. On the summit of walls, you can either: 1) Store your food in a bear resistant canister or 2.) Hang food at least 50 feet over the edge. Do not hang your food in trees. Report any bear incidents to the nearest ranger or by calling 209.372.0322.
You are not permitted to leave ropes unattended for over 24 hours. If you are "working" a route, remove ropes after you are finished for the day. Be considerate of other climbers, and refrain from fixing lines on popular routes. All fixed ropes and caches must be labeled with name, date, and contact information, and will be removed if left unlabeled or abandoned.
The use or possession of a motorized drill is prohibited.
The Iconic Camp Four and Other Camping Options:
Nick Sullens, and Will Barnes, lat minute prep before heading to the Captain., Yosemite NP. PC: Jeremiah Watt.
To stay at Camp Four during peak season, make a reservation: https://www.recreation.gov/camping/campgrounds/10004152
Outside of peak season (October 28, 2024 - April 14, 2025), the campground is first-come, first-serve.
You don't want to miss this: Climbers with a Wilderness Climbing Permit are eligible to spend one night before and one night after an overnight climb in an open backpacker's campground.
The cost is $8 per night (per person); reservations are not required.
Tent camping only, no sleeping in your car.
For 2025, White Wolf campground is closed, and Tuolumne Meadows is set to open in August.
In a calendar year, people can only stay for 30 nights in Yosemite National Park. From May 1 to September 15, the camping limit is 14 nights, and only seven nights can be in Yosemite Valley or Wawona.
AAC Inspiration:
From the AAC Library
Guidebooks:
To Stoke the Upcoming Adventure:
According to the National Park Service, more than 100 accidents occur in the park each year. Here are some select accidents to avoid from Accidents in North American Climbing:
AAC Podcasts for the Road Trip:
PROTECT: Amity Warme and a YOSAR Climbing Ranger Weigh In on The Yosemite Credo
CLIMB: Babsi Zangerl’s Secret to Her Exceptional Yosemite Resume
EDUCATE: Hazel Findlay on Yosemite, Magic Line, and the Theory of Flow
The Climber's Credo aims to provide the Yosemite climbing community and land managers with a tool to promote Yosemite's minimum-impact climbing ethics to protect the park's Wilderness and climbing culture.
Further questions?
PC: Andrew Burr
Find information on current conditions throughout the park here, and the forecast updated here.
Call a climbing ranger at (209) 354-2025 or email a ranger through the contact us form.
During the busy season, climbing rangers are available at the Ask-A-Ranger climber program at El Capitan Bridge from 12:30 p.m. to 4:30 p.m. for more in-depth big wall leave no trace and climbing technique advice, safety tips, and route condition information.
Looking for daily updates on Yosemite's big wall traffic?
Featured
Guidebook XIV—Rewind the Climb
David Hauthon on Directissima (5.9), The Trapps, Shawangunks, New York. Land of the Mohican and Munsee Lenape people. Photo by AAC member Francois Lebeau.
Setting the Standard
By the Editors
Before there were 8a.nu leaderboards and Mountain Project ticklists, before there were beta videos and newspaper articles for every cutting-edge ascent, there was a word-of-mouth understanding of who was setting the standard of the day.
Pushing the standard of climbing at the Gunks has proven to be key in the history of climbing in the United States, and any connoisseur of climbing history will know the names of Fritz Wiessner, Hans Kraus, Jim McCarthy, John Stannard, Steve Wunsch, and John Bragg—all AAC members by the way. But what often gets overlooked in the whispers of rowdy Vulgarian parties, naked climbing antics, and strict leader qualifications that swirl around Gunks history are the distinct contributions of women to Gunks climbing. A central figure in this story is the unique character Bonnie Prudden.
First, we must set the scene. Prudden was most active climbing in the Gunks in the late 1940s and early 1950s, when climbing on rock was done in sneakers with a hemp rope. Rather than boldness, a strict no-falls attitude pre-vailed, and good judgment was prized over achieving the next cutting-edge grade. Pitons and aid climbing were status quo, and without a priority on pushing the limits of the sport, the time period was considered non-competitive. While Wiessner, Kraus, Prudden, and others were climbing 5.7s (even occasionally 5.8), most climbers stuck to routes rated 5.2–5.4.
Climbing in the Gunks started with Fritz Wiessner, who went on a developing tear starting in 1935. He and Hans Kraus would be the leading developers of the area until the late 1950s, collectively establishing 56 of the 58 multi-pitch climbs put up in that period. In 30 of those first ascents, Prudden played a role, and she wasn’t just tagging along.
With competition on the back burner, the significance of leading was murky. Some of the climbers at the time proclaimed that there wasn’t a big difference between leading and following. However, the great tension and division that would characterize the Gunks’ history— between the Appalachian Mountain Club climbers (Appies) and the rebel Vulgarians that opposed their rules—came down to the question of regulating leading. The Appies, the dominant climbing force in the Gunks until the Vulgarians and other rabble-rousers splintered the scene in the 1960s, created a lead qualification system, determining who could lead at any given level. Alternatively, some climbers were designated as “unlimited leaders,” who didn’t need approval to lead specific routes.
Although they were painted as control freaks by the Vulgarians, the truth behind why the Appie crowd was so invested in regulating leading (and minimizing the risk inherent in climbing) was because they were keenly aware of the generosity of the Smileys, the landowners who looked the other way as climbers galavanted around on the excellent stone of the Trapps and Sky Top.
Bonnie Prudden was lucky enough to rise above all of the drama. As a close friend and frequent climbing partner of Hans Kraus’s (who was obviously an “unlimited leader,” being one of the first, and much-exalted, developers of the area), Prudden had frequent access to new, difficult climbs. In interviews with researcher Laura Waterman, Prudden relayed that in the early years, while climbing with her then husband, Dick Hirschland, she always led because of their significant weight difference. Later she took the lead simply because of her skill, tutored by Kraus and Wiessner.
Shelma Jun on Harvest Moon (5.11a). Photo by AAC member Chris Vultaggio.
Prudden took her first leader fall on the 5.6 Madame G (Madame Grunnebaum’s Wulst) and recalls catching a fall from Kraus only four times. At the time, 5.7 and 5.8 was the very top of the scale, and Prudden was keeping up—and sometimes showing off.
The story of the first ascent of Bonnie’s Roof, now free climbed at 5.9, is often held up as proof of Prudden’s talent, and rightfully so. But the gaps in the story and the fuzziness of Prudden’s memory of it might reveal more than the accomplishment itself.
On that day in 1952, Prudden thought the intimidating roof “looked like the bottom of a boat jutting out from the cliff,” as she wrote in an article about the climb in Alpinist 14, published in 2005.
Overhanging climbing was still a frontier to explore, but Kraus was a man on the hunt for exposure, rather than difficulty. It just so happened that the massive overlapping tiers of Bonnie’s Roof would provide both.
Prudden wrote about the first ascent: “I don’t remember who took what pitch since by then we were swinging leads. But I do remember quite well reaching the Roof’s nose. This airy feature was the reason for the climb. Getting to it had been one thing; getting over it would be something else.” The very fact that she couldn’t remember the precise order of leads indicates how commonplace this was for her—how comfortable she felt on the sharp end.
Kraus struggled for a long time to find a place for a piton over the roof, and ultimately backed down in a huff, ceding the lead to Prudden. As she started up on the sharp end to see if she could locate the next hold that Kraus could not, she quickly found a hole over the lip that would take gear, a massive positive jug that was hard to see from below. She nailed in the piton without weighting it, pulled over the lip with ease, and ultimately climbed the pitch with only one point of aid. It seems that she “floated it,” as we might say today. Rather than the giddy breathlessness one might imagine upon pulling a strenuous lip encounter and succeeding where Kraus could not, Prudden’s first ascent seemed to get a shrug of the shoulders. This was just the usual business, and her telling of it reveals just how blasé climbing at the top of the standard was for Prudden.
Carmen Magee on Tulip, (5.10a). Photo by AAC member Chris Vultaggio.
Prudden’s involvement in 30 first ascents, including several at the highest difficulty of the day, had her setting the standard of the time. But researcher and historian Laura Waterman has uncovered a weird quirk to Gunks climbing history that should be noted. Women were involved in over half of the FAs during the 1940s, but decreasingly so in later decades. For example, between 1960 and 1970, only 5% of first ascents involved women.
Indeed, many female climbers of the later decades note a cultural sentiment about the frailty of women regarding sports, as an AAC Legacy Series interview with Elaine Matthews, iconic Vulgarian during the 1960s and 1970s, reveals. According to Matthews and others, there was a perception that women and girls “might hurt their reproductive organs” if they ran or did other forms of athletics. Women would not be climbing at the top of the standard in the Gunks again until the late 1970s.
Funnily enough, though she had an outsized effect on early first ascents of multi-pitch Gunks classics, none of these climbs were included in her climbing résumé when Prudden (then going by her married name, Hirschland) applied for AAC membership. Though she was accepted as the 652nd member of the AAC in 1951 on the merit of the mountains she’d climbed, today her legacy is much more tied to first ascents like Bonnie’s Roof, Something Interesting, Oblique Twique, Hans Puss, and Dry Martini.
For the women who came after her, perhaps the shrug at the Bonnie’s Roof belay is more important than the first ascent.
The Gunks: A Climbing Timeline
The Time of the Appalachian Mountain Club or “Appies”
1935
European Fritz Wiessner discovers the Gunks’ climbing potential and begins opening up new routes in the 5.2–5.5 range.1940
Hans Kraus, another European climber, arrives in the Gunks. By 1950, Kraus and Wiessner would be responsible for putting up 56 of the 58 multi-pitch climbs in the Gunks. Twenty-three of the FAs went to Wiessner, 26 to Kraus, and seven to them both.1941
AAC members Kraus and Wiessner put up High Exposure (5.6), a Gunks classic.1945
The “Appies,” or members of the Appalachian Mountain Club, are regularly climbing at the Gunks on weekends. Due to safety concerns and fears of stepping on the toes of the private landowners, the Smileys, the Appies soon adopt a strict set of regulations, including requiring registration to come on climbing trips, designating rope teams and climbs, and creating restrictions on who is qualified to lead and at what level.
Bootleggers
Early 1950s
The Bootleggers, largely consisting of Kraus’s climbing circle of friends, sidestep the restrictions of the Appies and often climb the hardest routes of the time.1952
AAC member Bonnie Prudden leads the intimidating roof of what would become Bonnie’s Roof, with one point of aid, when her climbing partner, Kraus, can’t figure out the roof move (now climbed at 5.8+ or 5.9).1957
AAC member Jim McCarthy puts up the hardest rock climb in the Northeast with Yellow Belly (5.8 or 5.9), through a steep roof, ushering in a culture of pushing the standard.
The Vulgarians
1957
Art Gran splits with the Appies. The Vulgarians are born when he joins and mentors some college party kids who begin resisting the leader regulations upheld by the Appies.Late 1950s
Rich Goldstone and AAC member Dick Williams establish boulders now graded up to V6 and V7 in the Trapps, though bouldering is mostly considered a training tool at this time.1960
Jim McCarthy introduces the first solid 5.9 at the Gunks with his ascent of MF.
1967
AAC member John Stannard climbs the iconic Foops, ushering in 5.11 using repeated falls and rehearsal tactics.1970
The first Vulgarian Digest is published; “blame” goes to Joe Kelsey.
The Clean Climbing Era Begins
1972
The clean climbing movement, largely spearheaded by John Stannard in the region, overhauls the old ways.1973
Standard and AAC members Steve Wunsch and John Bragg usher in 5.12 while trying to free old aid lines. Of particular note are Kansas City (5.12-) and Open Cockpit (5.11+ PG13).1974
Wunsch frees Supercrack, probably the hardest climb in North America, possibly even the world, at the time.1977
Barbara Devine reestablishes the women’s standard (after an extensive lull), climbing Kansas City and desperate 5.11s like Open Cockpit, To Have or Have Not, and Wasp Stop, among others. In 1983 she does the first female ascent of Supercrack.
The Great Debate on Ethics and Style
1983
AAC member Lynn Hill makes a splash as one of four Gunks climbers to master Vandals, the Gunks’ first 5.13.1986
“The Great Debate” is held at an AAC member meeting, attended by many Gunks legends, fleshing out questions about rap-bolting, hangdogging, and other modern climbing tactics versus the traditional style of ground-up development and ascent.Late 1980s
AAC member Scott Franklin pushes Gunks standards to 5.14 with his ascent of Planet Claire, sometimes considered the world’s first traditional 5.14, despite the few bolts that protect the crux. Franklin also establishes modern testpieces like Survival of the Fittest (5.13a), which he later solos, and Cybernetic Wall (5.13d).
Resurgence of Bouldering
2006
The Mohonk Preserve and the American Alpine Club (alongside the New York State Office of Parks, Recreation, and Historic Preservation and the Palisades Interstate Park Commission) partner to create a campground within walking distance from some of the Gunks’ greatest crags.2023
William Moss establishes a 5.14d R at the Gunks with his first free ascent of Best Things in Life Are Free (BT).2024
Austin Hoyt puts up The Big Bad Wolf, the first V15 in the northeastern United States.
A huge thanks to Laura and Guy Waterman and Michael Wejchert, whose research and book Yankee Rock and Ice is the basis for much of this timeline.
Book Your Stay at the Gunks—AAC Lodging
The AAC’s lodging facilities are a launch pad for adventure and a hub for community. Experience this magical place for yourself by booking your stay at the Samuel F. Pryor III Gateway Campground today.
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Hand Holds: The Many Cruxes of Parenting and Climbing
In this episode we have Allyson Gunsallus on the podcast to talk about an under-discussed part of the climbing community—the joys and struggles of parenting and climbing. Allyson recently produced Hand Holds, an educational film series now free to watch on Youtube, which cover a range of topics, from shifting identities, logistical challenges, and new relationships to risk as a parent and climber. After all, a toddler waddling around at the crag isn’t just a cute climbing mascot—they can also be a seismic shift in a new parent’s relationship to climbing. The series features Becca and Tommy Caldwell, Beth Rodden, Chris Kalous and Steph Bergner, Kris Hampton, Jess and Jon Glassberg, Majka Burhardt, and Anna and Eddie Taylor. Hand Holds gets into the real (and messy) beta of negotiating life through climbing and parenting, and this episode gets a sneak peak of Allyson’s philosophies and personal experience behind the project.
The Line— Skiing the Tetons Enduro Traverse
Adam Fabrikant on Teewinot Mountain, the final peak of the Enduro Traverse. Immediately right is the north face of the Grand Teton; the snowy northeast side of Mt. Owen is at far right. Waaayyy in the distance, (B) marks the top of Buck Mountain, the first of the seven summits of the traverse. Photo: Michael Gardner.
In the evening of April 22, 2024, Teton guides Adam Fabrikant, Michael Gardner, and Brendan O’Neill started skinning up Death Canyon in Wyoming’s Teton Range, aiming for Buck Mountain, near the south end of the range. A little over 20 hours and seven peaks later, they skied off Teewinot Mountain and back to the valley floor to complete the Enduro Traverse—an unprecedented ski mountaineering adventure.
Adam’s story about the Enduro will be in AAJ 2025. We’re offering a condensed version here. You can read an extended story—replete with Adam’s history of Teton link-ups—at the AAJ website.
The Enduro Traverse linked Buck Mountain (far left) and Mt. Wister, continued over the South, Middle, and Grand Tetons (center), then finished over Mt. Owen and Teewinot Mountain (far right). Photo: Michael Gardner.
A 20-Hour Tour of the Tetons Skyline
In 1963, John Evans, Richard Long, and Allen Steck completed the Grand Traverse, a summertime traverse of ten Teton Range summits, from Nez Perce to Teewinot (the opposite direction of how this now-classic traverse is usually done today). In the 1965 AAJ, Steck wrote, “Any route or time of day is acceptable, however, only be sure to finish within 24 hours.” For the Enduro ski traverse of the Tetons that I envisioned, sub-24 hours was our sole metric, as Steck had laid it out for us.
For some years, I’ve been exploring Teton link-ups on skis with various partners, culminating with a day of skiing the Grand Teton, Mt. Owen, and Teewinot Mountain by some of their most technical routes. Sam Hennessey, Brendan O’Neill, and I pulled off this fine adventure in March 2023.
To me it seemed logical to bring all of our experiences together in a much longer traverse—to see how far we could go in under 24 hours. In the Alaska Range, I have enjoyed moving under the midnight sun for 24, 30, hell, even 64 hours—why not see how this would work back home? It gets darker in Wyoming in the spring than in Alaska, but we have headlamps.
The idea of the Enduro Traverse was to enchain the Teton skyline from Buck Mountain in the south to Teewinot, crossing over Mt. Wister, South Teton, Middle Teton, Grand Teton, and Mt. Owen along the way.
Michael Gardner heading up Death Canyon toward Buck Mountain, the first peak of the Enduro Traverse. Starting the tour at 6 p.m. on a warm April evening, the team opted for a "night naked" style, planning to travel throughout the night and carry only the bare minimum of clothing and equipment. Photo: Adam Fabrikant.
At 6 p.m. on April 22, with the day’s heat still in the air, Michael Gardner, Brendan O’Neill, and I started skinning up Death Canyon in wet, sloppy snow. Under an endless sunset, we climbed the east ridge of Buck Mountain (11,938’) and clicked in on top for our first descent at 9:15 p.m. (A full moon allowed us to complete all the climbs sans headlamps, but we did use the lamps for our descents.) We skied down Buck’s hyper-classic east face and used a piece of terrain called the Buckshot to drop into the South Fork of Avalanche Canyon.
The next climb was the South Headwall of Mt. Wister (11,490’), which flows into the upper east ridge. We reached Wister’s summit at 10:53 p.m. This was the lowest peak in our traverse, yet it packed a punch. The northeast face offered up some proper steep skiing—it felt engaging via headlamp—and deposited the three of us in the North Fork of Avalanche Canyon.
Our next ascent took us up the South Teton’s Amora Vida Couloir (much more fun to descend than ascend), and here we encountered our least efficient travel of the day, with heinous breakable crust and soggy snow engulfing our entire legs. From the top of the South Teton (12,514’), the descent by the Northwest Chute was fast and uneventful.
Now in Garnet Canyon’s South Fork, we began our climb up the Middle Teton’s Southwest Couloir, where efficient cramponing put us on the summit rather quickly. The descent down the east face into the Middle Teton Glacier route was harrowing on the refrozen undulating snow left by skiers who had descended in the warm days before us. But we were not there for the ski quality, rather the continuous movement.
From the North Fork of Garnet Canyon, we made quick work of the Ford-Stettner route, topping out the Grand Teton (13,770’) at 6 a.m., 12 hours into our journey. The sun was beginning to rise above the horizon, and it felt great to embrace its warmth again.
Skiing the upper east side of Mt. Owen, peak six of the tour, on the morning of April 23. Photo: Michael Gardner.
With a long block of daylight ahead, the three of us were confident as we descended the Ford-Stettner, with some thoughtful downclimbing in the Chevy Couloir, which is normally rappelled. (To save weight, we did not carry a rope and chose lines that would go without one.) We made our way into the Dike Snowfield and down to Glacier Gulch, where we donned crampons once again and slogged up the Koven Couloir, feeling the heat, as we carried minimal water. We continued up the east ridge and the Koven Chimney to the true summit of Owen (12,928’). After some downclimbing, we were sliding again, down Owen’s east ridge and into the Diagonal. From the Owen-Teewinot cirque, we began our final ascent, with rather benign climbing up the Northwest Couloir to the summit of Teewinot Mountain (12,325’).
After skiing Teewinot’s east face, we finished at the Taggart Lake trailhead in early afternoon, 20 hours and 12 minutes after starting, well within Steck’s 24-hour metric. In all, the Enduro Traverse covered 24 miles and roughly 19,000 to 20,000 feet of vertical gain. (GPS apps often don’t agree in the Tetons’ steep terrain.) A memorable day of walking across the Tetons’ skyline.
Michael Gardner snapped this selfie from the summit of Mt. Owen.
This would prove to be my last day in the high peaks with Michael Gardner, as he would lose his life in October 2024 on Jannu East in Nepal. I am grateful he happened to be home to join us for the day, as we etched our way across the slopes in the twilight. The Tetons were always Mike’s home mountains, and winter and summer he would use his creativity to draw new lines, whether on rock, ice, or snow. His inspiration lives on among the high crags of the range.
IFMGA guide Adam Fabrikant has been contributing to the AAJ since 2021, when he wrote about two first descents on Mt. Owen. In July 2024, he and longtime ski partners Billy Haas and Brendan O’Neill climbed and skied two 8,000-meter peaks, Gasherbrum I and II, in Pakistan.
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Guidebook XIV—Grant Spotlight
Photo by Charles Denton.
Ascending the Path
A Story from the Live Your Dream Grant
By Charles Denton
Photos by Charles Denton on land of the Yokuts people
We stared out at the treacherous somber surfaces, weathered by wind and storm. The mountains transformed in our minds, revealing an expanse impossible to comprehend. It is upon this sea of summits we desired to stand.
I was born in flatland central Wisconsin, and often biked with my childhood friend Devin Grdinic up the 1.56-billion-year-old, 1,924-foot prominent hill, Rib Mountain, located in our hometown. From the gouged rim of the hundred-foot quartzite quarry, we grew an affinity for mountains, dreaming of summits.
In our early 20s, ambitious and hell-bent, we drove from Minneapolis to Mt. Elbert in a day. Devin did the planning, and I went along. Knowing the importance of acclimatizing but lacking the time, we spent a night in the Never Summer Mountains. With a pound of venison strapped to my chest to prevent the blood from leaking in my bag, we set forth to high camp and shivered through the cold night. In the morning my appreciation of the mountains solidified as I opened the tent to the majestic view.
Over a cup of coffee at a wayside diner a few years later, Devin proposed another scheme—to tag Mt. Whitney, the tallest in the lower 48. Without hesitation, I said yes.
Photo by Charles Denton.
We descended into the smog of LAX and drove north to the Sierra Nevada. Finding residence in Mammoth Lakes, we improved our acclimatization period by visiting the ancient bristlecones of the White Mountains of California.
Parking late in the afternoon on October 7, 2008, we hit the Mt. Whitney Trail with heavy packs. Unbeknownst to us, our map remained in the back seat. We missed the creek crossing at Lower Boy Scout Lake and went off-trail, bushwhacking into the night. Panicked, we trudged over bush and boulders, reaching an icy ledge where my foot slipped and I hung by loosely fitted gloves. Devin instinctively reached with his hiking pole and hoisted me back up. Clearly, my intrepid aspirations were on a slippery slope.
Miraculously finding Upper Boy Scout camp in the dark, we shivered through the night with inadequate sleeping pads as winds battered our tent. In the warmth of the morning, we set off to climb the wrong mountain. Returning to camp, we planned one final attempt before we’d miss our flights. With little sleep, we set off before dawn, reaching Iceberg Lake as Whitney’s east face prominently glowed orange. At the base of the snow-filled Mountaineer’s Route gully, we realized we were a bit over our heads. With blistered feet and tired shoulders, we descended.
Over the next seven years, Devin and I summited Mt. Temple, Mt. Shasta, Mt. Baker, and Mt. Rainier together. In the years between doing Shasta and Baker, I was introduced to technical rock climbing by my close friend Ross Nueske, a serious square-jawed man who wore a mischievous plotting grin. Ross and I enjoyed climbing multi-pitch trad routes, but after a decade of rock climbing, something still felt unfinished. The memory of Whitney taunted me to return.
I purchased an entry permit for the summer of 2020.
While climbing at the North Shore of Minnesota that June, I received a message from Devin. He had been diagnosed with life-threatening leukemia. Complete devastation washed over everyone close to him. I recall sitting by Lake Superior, staring into the empty blue horizon, trying to process the news as waves lapped sorrowfully over the pebbled shore. Dreams of the future in jeopardy, one small dream being Whitney, the gravely worse one—losing my best friend. Life lingered in a fragile balance as we stayed in contact over Devin’s year-long struggle. Through multiple series of treatments that brought him to the brink of death, he ultimately survived, thanks to a miraculous bone-marrow transplant.
In 2023, I purchased another North Fork of Lone Pine entry pass. The new plan was for Ross and me to climb the East Buttress (1,000', 11 pitches, 5.7) on Mt.Whitney. Devin invited his older brother Marcel Grdinic, a chemistry teacher from Chicago, to join him in attempting the third-class Mountaineer's Route. Two months before the trip, I ruptured my right distal biceps tendon while bouldering. Orthopedic surgery was needed, followed by six months of nonuse: no climbing, no lifting, and the struggle to use my left hand for everything.
The trip still went on, albeit with a hiking-only itinerary. Clouds Rest, a famed trail in Yosemite National Park, gave everyone a magnificent view of the Valley.
During my residency of healing, my aspiration for Whitney magnified, growing more prominent in my mind. I applied for the 2024 American Alpine Club Live Your Dream Grant, seeking to achieve this dream. Awarded the grant one year later, Ross and I flew from St. Paul to Reno and met Devin at Lake Tahoe. I held my breath in anticipation for the next complication, as we attempted to complete this chapter in our lives.
Photo by Charles Denton.
Three days were spent acclimatizing above 6,000 feet. Ross and I climbed at Lover’s Leap, completing: Surrealistic Pillar (270', 3 pitches, 5.7), Corrugation Corner (300', 3 pitches, 5.7), and Bear’s Reach (400', 3 pitches, 5.7).
The following day we bouldered a little in the Middle Bliss area. Marcel flew in from Chicago, and the next morning our assembly of four overloaded a rental car, making the rearview mirror pointless, and drove to Mammoth Lakes.
Early Wednesday, we drove to the Lone Pine ranger station, checked in, and completed our packing list with WAG bags. Nothing stood in our way. A phenomenal three-day weather window was ahead.
Hitting the trail at 11:25 a.m. with abnormally warm temps, Ross and I split the gear. We were equipped with a single rack of Black Diamond 0.2–#3 cams, two sets of nuts, a set of tri-cams, a dozen 90cm alpine draws, six 120cm slings, and a 60m rope.
A few hours uphill and navigating the class 3 Ebersbacher Ledges, we took lunch at Lower Boy Scout Lake. Devin and I laughed, reflecting upon our youthful selves, noting exactly where we went astray many years ago. It felt like I was an echo of my past self. Memories of those moments bounced back off the walls around us.
At 4 p.m., we passed the treeline and headed up slabs toward Upper Boy Scout Lake. A mirrorlike lake sat cupped in a vast bowl of mountains, reflecting the blue skies and gray peaks. Fish prodded the calm surface, wrinkling the perfect image.
Photo by Charles Denton.
We filtered water from the lake, made camp before dark, and relaxed into our tents. Night temps felt irregularly high in the lower 40s. Devin slept under the stars while Ross and I, sharing a tent, kept the doors open, allowing a soft breeze inside.
I woke at 4:30 a.m. with little sleep, partially due to Ross’s crinkling sleeping pad, and attempted to wake Devin and Marcel. They gave us an auditory acknowledgment and would be following an hour behind. With headlamps we navigated the remaining 1,000 feet to Iceberg Lake, forever burned into my mind from the first trip. We walked with the rising sun casting fire-orange across Mt. Whitney’s east face, illuminating our route.
An hour behind schedule, Ross and I scrambled the third-class slog from Iceberg to the base of the route. After roping up, I took the odd pitches, and together we navigated the buttress as the landscape below sank farther away. Massive boulders and the lake below became small reference specks lost in the vast gray landscape.
I started the third pitch, a crystalline slab that wouldn’t take much gear, past a smashed old piton and over a few traversing ridges to a cold shaded belay spot. The next couple of pitches took nearly the entirety of the 60m rope, sparing three to five feet. Climbing the ridgeline and passing the massive Peewee rock formation revealed epic views on both sides as the exposure dropped further away. I saw two specks of color ascending the Mountaineer’s Route gully. With my LYD Grant–funded Rocky Talkies, I radioed to Devin and Marcel to check in. They were a third of the way up.
The thin air above 13,000 feet caused us to slow down, stopping to catch our breath even though the climbing was easy and enjoyable. Devin and Marcel reached the summit by 2 p.m. With a celebratory shout, Devin looked over the edge and waved to us three pitches below. Ross took the last push, trying to link pitches as we simul-climbed the meandering bit, but rope drag became strenuous over the puzzle-like terrain. He built an anchor and brought me to the last 5.8 hand-crack roof move. The last few pitches of the East Buttress can range from fourth class, if you go left, to 5.6–5.10, depending on the chosen direction.
We crested the ridge with fist bumps and smiles. After years of chasing the elusive aspiration, my heart filled with satisfaction, achieving what was started so long ago, with so many U-turns along the way. Standing in that sea of peaks, I attempted to memorize the brief moment I had and everything that led up to it.
Get Access to AAC Grants
AAC members are first and foremost connected through our passion for climbing. The AAC’s grants program awarded over $200k in 2023 and is designed to support all members in their climbing pursuits—whether they’re gunning for cutting edge first ascents or everyday climbers seeking out an adventure on their own terms. We also fund research grants, supporting scientific research expeditions that contribute valuable information to our understanding of the world’s mountain ecosystems.
Though Devin and I didn’t stand at 14,505 feet at the same moment, as he and Marcel had already started to descend, we each stood on the summit knowing what it took to be there, and that we accomplished the journey together. For all of us, it was a meaningful experience, and the summit felt more than just a physical place.
In the urgency of approaching night, Ross and I traversed the back side toward the notch and down the tumultuous scree of the Mountaineer’s Route. Two hours later we reached Iceberg Lake, where Devin and Marcel waited. We congratulated each other with a warm embrace and dusty smiles.
Back at camp, in the slow growth of darkness, under headlamps, I lay propped against a rock beside Devin, eating dinner. Slightly nauseous, I continued to sip water, staring at the star-filled sky, taking nibbles of couscous as we chatted. I felt the weight and length of our journey, the immense effort to finally return to this place together. In that moment, content after years of trying and struggle, and indeed with Devin’s survival now resolved, we reflected upon what brought us here, and how cherished it was to share.
In the morning, we broke camp and looked to the future of more dreams and peaks.
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The Prescription—Fatal Rockfall
Every year we publish several accounts of rockfall. What makes a few of these accidents so scary is the fact that several climbers have experienced this kind of accident just standing at the base of a crag.
Above 10,000 feet in elevation, Wizard’s Gate is typical of high altitude climbing areas in which sport climbs are being developed. While such areas may be easily accessible and bolt protected, an alpinist’s sense of mountain awareness is required to safely climb there. Photo: Bob Siegrist
Fatal Rockfall
Colorado, Twin Sisters Peak, Wizard’s Gate
On July 9, 2022, Anna Laila Leikvold (22) was preparing to climb at the Wizard’s Gate crag, south of Estes Park, when she was struck by a rock falling from above on a route called The Arrival (4 pitches, 5.11). Leikvold, who was wearing a helmet, was at the base of the cliff in a party of three when a football-sized rock dislodged by another climber struck her as she was fleeing from the base of the wall.
Bob Siegrist, a developer of this area and first ascensionist of The Arrival, wrote to ANAC, “I think the falling rock came from pitch two, but I did not talk with the climbers who were on the route and caused the rockfall. This speculation is based on talking with other climbers who were at the base and also my inspection of [the] route after the accident. Later, I discovered a spot on pitch two where a stone had broken off, matching the features of the suspect rock that was found at the bottom of the crag below where Anna was struck.”
Climbers called 911 and gathered to help Leikvold. Rescuers arrived with a litter, but she passed away before they reached the ambulance. Her evacuation was compounded by the rugged terrain and the lengthy hike to the road (the approach is a steep 30 to 45 minutes). Siegrist returned two weeks later and removed the bolts from the upper three pitches of the climb to prevent such an accident in the future.
The base of Wizard’s Gate, where people often congregate, was the site of a tragic rockfall fatality. The bolts on the route where the rockfall originated were later removed. Photo: Dougald MacDonald.
ANALYSIS
There are annual instances of rockfall injuries and fatalities suffered by climbers at the base of crags. With the growing popularity of multi-pitch sport routes—often extensions of existing single-pitch climbs—the need grows for caution on the ground and above. According to “Neale D” on Mountainproject.com, “There were over 20 of us climbing at or near Wizard’s Gate [that day], maybe the most some have experienced at this crag. Most importantly, though, probably in an effort to find something open to climb, several parties ventured up multi-pitch routes while others stuck to single-pitching below.”
With a shady aspect and an elevation of 10,000 feet, Wizard’s Gate is a popular high-country escape from Colorado’s summer heat. Kim Schwartz, who was at the Wizard’s Gate on the day of the accident, says, “It’s easy to treat an area like this as a sport crag, but it is an alpine environment with all the attendant hazards.”
For those climbing or rappelling above others, avoid loose rock, look for white chalk Xs marking unstable rocks, and be aware of how the rope might catch on sketchy blocks. Consider not climbing when others are below. For those below, wear a helmet while leading, belaying, or spectating. However, remember that in this case, a helmet did not save the individual’s life. Adapting an alpinist’s sense of mountain awareness can help prevent such accidents. Watch and listen for falling rock, and choose protected areas while belaying or waiting for your turn to climb. This is especially true if there are climbers above, after heavy rain or snow, and during windstorms.
A further lesson extends to route developers or first ascensionists. Pay heed to the numbers and demographics of climbers venturing into alpine and remote areas, many of whom have little experience in the risks inherent in such terrain. Consider the potential for both human-generated or natural rockfall before establishing new routes. This is especially true for multi-pitch routes extending above established climbs.
Video Analysis—Avoiding Rockfall
The base of a crag can be a hazardous place. In this video, Pete Takeda, Editor of Accidents in North American Climbing, gives some tips to avoid causing rockfall while climbing and avoid being hit while at the base of the crag.
Safety Tips for Wizard’s Gate & Similar Areas
The Arrival extended above a very popular single pitch cragging zone at Wizard’s Gate, site of the July 2022 rockfall fatality, on rock that deteriorated in quality above the first pitch. The bolts protecting the upper pitches were removed soon after the accident.
For climbing at Wizard’s Gate and similar areas, Siegrist has a few safety tips:
When arriving at an area like Wizard’s Gate, carefully assess where people are climbing and identify risky situations. Locate your gear and hangout spots in the safest areas available. If the crag is too busy, especially with inexperienced climbers, don’t hesitate to relocate to another area or another crag. Weekend days can be busy, so if you want to climb one of the multi-pitch routes, try to do so on days with few climbers below.
At Wizard’s Gate and similar crags, consider wearing a helmet and have a plan in mind if someone yells, “Rock!” Typically, I advise that you run to the wall, extend your arms over your head, and do not look up. Rockfall at Wizard’s Gate often originates from high up the wall, and stones falling from there often bounce off the wall before landing 10 to 30 feet from the base of the cliff.
Be aware of local resources if an accident occurs. At Wizard’s Gate, there is now an EMS kit and Stokes litter located about 300 feet below the base of the cliff. It has first responder contacts. I spearheaded the effort after the accident and am the current custodian.
(Sources: Bob Siegrist, Kim Schwartz, Kelly Cordes, and Mountainproject.com.)
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A Tribute to Virginia Boucher
Sal Marino, Janet Robertson, Dave Robertson, and Virginia Boucher in the Minarets, 1956. Courtesy of the American Alpine Club Library
Virginia Boucher
May 26, 1929 – March 9, 2025
It is with great appreciation that the American Alpine Club honors and celebrates the life of Virginia (Ginnie) Boucher—an unsung hero in the Club’s history.
Virginia Boucher climbing at the Garden of the Gods, 1948. Courtesy of the American Alpine Club Library
Virginia Boucher was the chair for the AAC Library Committee for a decade, and a driving force in introducing best practices to the AAC Library from the 1990s onward—including online access to the AAC’s library catalog, expansion of library staff, and implementing interlibrary loans in this highly niche space of mountaineering libraries and literature. Boucher was also instrumental in the physical move of the AAC Library from the AAC’s original Clubhouse in New York to its current location among the mountains of Golden, Colorado.
Boucher received the 2005 Angelo Heilprin Citation from the AAC for exemplary service to the Club, thanks to her transformational leadership at the AAC Library. Not only did her leadership bring the full force of library science to bear on this now world-renowned library and archive, but she also helped steward the acquisition of many pieces of the John M. Boyle Himalayan Collection and the Nicholas B. Clinch Collection, two keystone collections in the AAC’s current holdings.
In the notes announcing her award of the Heilprin Citation, the Award Committee shares some tidbits that suggest that Boucher wasn’t just the bookish type—she also had a flair for adventure. The committee notes that she and her husband, Stanley Boucher–a lifetime member of the AAC—were known for their unplanned night descents, and had a hilarious story about fighting off porcupines in the San Juans. She climbed the Grand Teton, Rainier, and many of Colorado’s mountains, and in her early years started off her climbing at the Garden of the Gods in Colorado Springs.
Sal Marino, Virginia Boucher, and Janet Robertson in the Minarets, 1956. Courtesy of the American Alpine Club Library
Boucher’s extensive impact as a volunteer for the AAC’s Library Committee was fueled by her love for the mountains and her calling as a librarian. But by the time she was serving on the committee, she had left climbing behind her. In her autobiography, she writes of this part of herself: “I know a number of those who have ‘summited’ Mount Everest…those who are addicted to boulders, and a few such as myself who climb [only] in our memories.”
But even so, climbing was a part of her history and identity, and after shepherding the AAC Library into the world-class institution it is today, she recalls how her volunteer involvement with the AAC Library brought her full-circle in her career: “I have drawn upon my special library experience…to give the best advice I can to this emerging and unique library… And finally, I have returned to my beginnings; I shelve books once again.”
Drowning at Altitude: A Nepal Rescue Story
In this episode, we talk to AAC member, alpinist, and ski mountaineer, Maddie Miller, about a Nepal trip gone wrong–what she hoped was going to be a level-up in her climbing career, turned into a medical evacuation. At 16,200 feet, Maddie started experiencing signs of the extremely life-threatening medical condition HAPE, or High Altitude Pulmonary Edema. Thankfully, she had the ability to call for a helicopter, and get emergency care–all covered by her AAC rescue benefit and medical expense coverage. We dive into her experience with the freaky feeling of gurgling lungs, what other people don’t realize about this extremely deadly medical diagnosis, and what it means to feel as fit as possible but still affected by altitude.
Prescription—High Altitude Cerebral Edema
Every year we publish several accounts of high altitude pulmonary edema and high altitude cerebral edema. While most of these incidents in North America occur in the Alaska Range, any terrain above 10,000 feet holds altitude hazards. Most cases are resolved by descending immediately upon the appearance of symptoms. But as you’ll read below, in the spring of 2023 on Denali, bad weather delayed a rescue helicopter, and by the time the climber was evacuated, it was too late.
Avalanche on Mt. Hunter in Denali National Park. Avalanche and high altitude illness are two proven environmental hazards in the high mountains. Photo by Dave Weber.
High Altitude Cerebral Edema | Ascending Too Fast
Denali, West Buttress Route
On May 30, 2023, an independent expedition at 14,200-foot camp notified rangers via radio that one member of their team, a 24-year-old Coloradan, had an altered mental status. The patient’s team stated that they had been dropped off by plane at base camp (7,200 feet) on May 27. Immediately upon landing, the team departed for the West Buttress Route, reaching 14,200-foot camp a day and a half later, on the evening of May 28. The team stated that upon reaching camp, all team members were feeling “OK.”
On the afternoon of May 30, teammates alerted NPS rangers that the Coloradan—after reportedly feeling “groggy” with a slight headache—began exhibiting severe symptoms of high altitude cerebral edema (HACE) and high altitude pulmonary edema (HAPE). A second team member was experiencing moderate symptoms of HAPE.
Weather conditions did not allow helicopter flights on the night of May 30. A team of NPS rangers and volunteer patrol members performed 18 hours of advanced life support on the unresponsive HACE/HAPE patient throughout the night, including treatment in a hyperbaric chamber, medications, supplemental oxygen, and mechanical breathing assistance. On the morning of May 31, the patient was evacuated by helicopter with an Air National Guard Pararescue Specialist from the 212th Rescue Unit serving as the medical attendant. The patient was flown to Talkeetna and transferred to a LifeMed air ambulance for advanced care. Unfortunately, the patient succumbed to the effects of HACE/HAPE in the hospital.
NPS rescue personnel and volunteers treat a HAPE/HACE patient at 14,200-foot camp on Denali. This portable and inflatable hyperbaric chamber is used to simulate emergent descent for severe cases of high altitude illness prior to evacuation or when descent is not possible. Photo by Menno Boermans.
ANALYSIS
As many do, this team made the assumption that living at a relatively high altitude (over 5,000 feet) and maintaining a high level of fitness would prepare them adequately for swift elevation gain. This is a severe example of the inaccuracies of this assumption. Living at altitude and having good fitness are not guaranteed to protect climbers against high altitude illness (HAI). The human body starts losing adaptations to altitude in a matter of days, which is often the amount of time that climbers spend traveling to Alaska to begin an expedition.
The Wilderness Medicine Society (WMS) recommends that, at elevations above 9,000 feet, climbers ascend no more than 1,650 feet (500 meters) to a new sleeping elevation each night. Additionally, for every 3,300 feet (1,000 meters) of elevation gain, the WMS recommends spending an extra day sleeping at a given elevation to further acclimatize.
The mountaineering rangers on Denali see many very fit climbers arriving to attempt a summit each season. Although fitness is an important factor in risk management and safe travel on the mountain, it can also make the recommended conservative ascent profile feel onerous. Unfortunately, a climber’s level of fitness has no correlation with whether or not they become stricken with HAI. Only a reasonable ascent profile and proper acclimatization will prevent climbers from becoming ill.
(Source: Denali Mountaineering Rangers.)
Denali rescue volunteer Dr. Andy Luks assesses a HAPE patient in the NPS medical tent at 14,200-foot camp. Photo by Menno Boermans.
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Ice Climbing Competition: A Team Sport
Catalina Shirley during finals at Longmont. PC: Sierra McGivney
Photos and Story by Sierra McGivney
The intense winter sun bore down on Longmont's Ice Climbing World Cup stage in Colorado on February 22-23. For the first time since 2019, the United States hosted a UIAA Ice Climbing World Cup. The USA Ice Climbing athletes showed off figure fours and nines (similar to a figure four, but the climber wraps their leg over the same arm instead of the opposite), epic dynos into hanging hoops, and celebrated wins with views of Long's Peak in the background.
The warm weather led to thin ice, and an ice pick punctured a pipe, destroying one of the speed climbing walls Saturday night during the speed finals. As a result the format was changed from duel climbing to single. USA Ice climbing athletes Sam Serra and Catalina Shirley podiumed in speed despite the challenging ice conditions. Shirley took silver in speed with a time of 13.64.
Serra won his first-ever UIAA Ice climbing medal at Longmont, taking the bronze with a time of 9.07. Making the podium in speed was a "soft" goal for Serra in the Longmont World Cup.
"It's just been a steady progress all season," said Serra.
Lindsay Levine at Longmont. PC: Sierra McGivney
During the France World Cup, which was held from January 29 through February 1, Serra's left hand slipped, and he stabbed his thigh with his ice tool, needing three stitches. The past three weeks leading up to Longmont he was mainly focused on recovering in time for the competition.
Thanks to the Longmont Climbing Collective building a competition wall for the World Cup, the USA Ice Climbing team has been able to train all season in Longmont. Serra ran a weekly speed training night every Monday.
"I think everyone saw a lot of progress, and it's really rewarding to see that pay off, and everyone is performing super well this weekend and in the past World Cups," said Serra.
Donned in glitter, Sam Castro, Joann Dyer, Jessica Perez, and Alex Rudow bring their own personal style to competing.
"Glitter really makes me send hard," said Jessica Perez with a laugh. This is her third season on the USA Ice Climbing Team. She saw athletes competing in the World Cup in Denver in 2019 and dove into competition ice climbing headfirst.
Although doused in the same glitter, the four athletes had different goals for their seasons.
Roz Reynolds at Longmont. PC: Sierra McGivney
"It was my first season, so honestly, my only goal was not having a false start for speed and not stabbing myself, which I was very happy about," said Sam Castro. She achieved her goals this season.
"My goal is to enjoy the process and see how far I can test and push my limits and climb with confidence," said Jessica Perez.
Each athlete competes individually on the wall, but the USA Ice Climbing team is so tight-knit and supportive that it's almost a team sport.
"[Ice climbing competition] is so supportive, too, and it's like such a niche sport, I think. And it's growing. It's cool to be a part of a growing community and see the youth get really into it," said Joann Dyer.
Alex Rudow said, "I try to be supportive. The community is already so supportive. I have mainly competed in team sports, and this is probably my first individual sport. But despite that, you spend like nine times out of ten cheering on your teammates. It's awesome to see just how supportive everyone is." This is Rudow's first season on the ice team.
In the competitive world, mindset is everything. Seasoned competitor Ryan McCauley made a big mindset change this season. She went into the season wanting to be more playful and present on the wall.
Ryan McCauley at Longmont. PC: Sierra McGivney
"I think that in the past, I've tended to be really rigid and structured with my training. I've told myself this narrative: I just want to train really hard and get really strong, and then it can be really playful during competition season. And then I get there, and I'm like, why doesn't this feel playful? It's because I've related to it for months in a militant way," said McCauley.
Her main goal for the Ouray competition was to be more present, and it paid off when she podiumed and took third place. For logistical and financial reasons, McCauley decided to focus on the three competitions in North America: Ouray, Longmont, and Edmonton. At Longmont, McCauley fell early in qualifiers. She sees it as a testament to the finickiness of dry tooling, saying, "shit can happen."
"I can't control the outcomes, so I might as well savor the parts of the process that are meaningful," said McCauley.
Keenan Griscom During Finals at Longmont. PC: Sierra McGivney
On Sunday, energy was high through the semi-finals and finals. The USA Ice Climbing Team put their all into the semi-finals. Athletes and ice tools flew through the air while the crowd cheered. USA Ice Climbing athlete Catalina Shirley took center stage, topping the semi-final route. Keenan Griscom made it to the rodeo board, a semi-horizontal rocking piece of plywood with tiny holds, and moved on to finals. The competition was fierce on the wall, with all eyes on Shirley and Griscom during finals. Shirley placed fourth, and Griscom placed seventh.
The USA Ice Climbing Team operates as a team, supporting and cheering each other on through wins and losses. Ice climbing competitions can be unpredictable, but the team is steadfast.
Highlights from the 24/25 USA Ice Climbing Season:
The USA Ice Climbing Team Adult Team highlights:
Speed gold in Cheongsong, Korea - Catalina Shirley
Lead bronze and speed silver in Champagny-en-Vanoise, France - Catalina Shirley
Speed bronze in Longmont, USA - Sam Serra
Speed silver in Longmont, USA - Catalina Shirley
Lead silver in Edmonton, CA - Catalina Shirley
Overall World Tour speed silver medal - Catalina Shirley
Adult North American Lead Championship highlights:
Gold—Keenan Griscom & Catalina Shirley
Silver—Noah Bergman & Ryan McCauley
Bronze—Tyler Howe & Lindsay Levine
USA Youth Team highlights:
U16 lead and speed silver World Championship medals - Mathias Olsen
U16 lead silver and speed bronze World Championship medals - Nina Mankouski
U18 lead gold World Championship medal - Zoe Schiffer
U18 lead silver World Championship medal - Shelby Holmes
U20 lead bronze World Championship medal - Maple Damien
U16 lead gold Continental Cup in Sunderland, UK - Conner Bailey
The USA Youth Team finished second at the Ouray, USA World Championships in team rankings
The USA Ice Climbing Team is supported by
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THIRTY BELOW: The Forgotten Story of the Denali Damsels
In this episode of the AAC podcast, we have adventure writer Cassidy Randall on to talk about her new book, "Thirty Below." Thirty Below is the gripping story of the Denali Damsels–a group of female adventurers who achieved the first all-women’s ascent of Denali, also known as Mt. McKinley, the tallest peak in North America.
Everyone told the “Denali Damsels,” that it couldn’t be done, that women were incapable of climbing mountains on their own. It was 1970. Men had walked on the moon; but women still had not stood on the highest points on Earth. But these six women were unwilling to be limited. They pushed past barriers in society at large, the climbing world, and their own bodies.
Following vibrant mountaineers with a lot of personality, like the stubborn Grace Hoemann and the brilliant chemist Arlene Blum, this book tells a rich tale of a community's set of limiting beliefs, and the women who dared to prove them wrong, despite disaster and risk on the expedition.
In the episode, Cassidy and the AAC dive into some of the experiences of these women that pushed them to achieve more and more in their mountaineering careers, the challenges of archival research, and capturing a climbing story that is too often forgotten.
The Line: Nepali Climbers Exploring Nepal's Mountains
Base camp below Khunjungar (the snowy peak on the right). Prakash Gurung and Pur Bahadur Gurung made the first ascent of Khunjungar in December 2023. Photo by Prakash Gurung.
A prominent trend in international climbing is the rise of local climbing communities and cultures around the world, not least in Nepal. As documented in Bernadette McDonald’s award-winning Alpine Rising book, Sherpas and other Nepali climbers, who long worked in the mountains only as skilled employees, now guide their own paying clients and, increasingly, go climbing for fun, with impressive results—the 2021 first winter ascent of K2 being the most dramatic example.
The 2025 AAJ will have our biggest Nepal section in many years—at least 38 pages of new routes and exploration—and one reason is the number of Nepali climbers exploring their local mountains, from the first ascent of 6,750-meter Khumjungar to success on the huge south-southwest ridge of Cho Oyu after more than 40 years of attempts.
Here, we’re sharing the story of a Nepali expedition to the remote and wild Kanjiroba Himal: Three 8,000-meter guides went on a post-work holiday adventure and succeeded on the first ascent of a 6,500-meter peak.
PATRASI, FIRST ASCENT
Climbers in the remote Chaudhabise Valley of western Nepal, en route to the first ascent of Patrasi. Photo: Pasang Rinzee Sherpa.
In the premonsoon season of 2024, Nepali guides Vinayak Jaya Malla, Pasang Kami Sherpa, and Pasang Rinzee Sherpa worked commercial expeditions to 8,000-meter peaks. After returning to Kathmandu, they enjoyed only a few days of rest before heading to Jumla in West Nepal, arriving on June 4. They were perfectly acclimatized for the adventure ahead: the first ascent of the highest summit of the Patrasi group, situated on the western rim of the Kanjiroba Sanctuary, a trip partially sponsored by the Mount Everest Foundation. None of the climbers had previously trekked or climbed in the area.
Along with four helpers from Kathmandu, the team drove to Pere (2,700m) on June 5. Adding a local guide and three porters, they then walked four hard days via the Chaudhabise Valley to a base camp at 5,050 meters below the west side of the Patrasi group. Day three involved crossing the Tang Tang Pass (4,950m) and descending to an overnight camp at 4,100 meters in the Changda Valley, where they met an encampment of local people gathering yarsagumba (caterpillar fungus) for traditional Tibetan and Chinese medicine.
At 8 a.m. on the 10th, they began their ascent of Patrasi. They first climbed a 200-meter snow couloir to reach the northwest ridge of Patrasi II (6,471m). After climbing 11 belayed pitches with rock to French 5a (around 5.8), and simul-climbing other sections, they reached 5,700 meters, where they were able to fashion a partial tent site. For safety, they slept that night in their harnesses.
Steep ground on day two of the first ascent of Patrasi I. Photo: Pasang Rinzee Sherpa.
The following morning, they left at 5 a.m. After another 11 pitches (up to M4) and a little simul-climbing, they arrived at 6,000 meters, where they decided to pitch their second camp at around 4 p.m. The climbing had been quite challenging, in cold and windy conditions with intermittent snow showers. The rock was poor, and there were many places where protection points were 10 to 15 meters apart.
At 4 a.m. on June 12, the three set out for a long summit push. Following the corniced ridge, then crossing a section of hard blue WI3, they reached the top of Patrasi II, descended a little to a snow slope, then headed up onto the left flank of the northeast ridge of Patrasi I. They reached the 6,521-meter summit at 4:35 p.m. in cloudy weather.
The route and bivouacs on the northwest ridge of Patrasi I, crossing over the summit of Patrasi II. Photo: Pasang Rinzee Sherpa.
The descent was long and tiring, with their muscles cramping toward the end of the day. Downclimbing and 15 long rappels (they climbed on 70-meter ropes) took them back to the 6,000-meter camp. It was 9:30 p.m., and they didn’t bother to cook, instead falling asleep very quickly.
On the 13th, it took the trio almost 11 hours to descend all the way to base camp. By the 17th, they were back in Jumla. All equipment and nondegradable waste was packed out, and they left only five snow stakes, 10 pitons, and some cord on the mountain.
Commenting on the trip, Pasang Kami Sherpa said, “This expedition added an interesting chapter to my mountaineering journey. It was in stark contrast to my experience on 8,000m peaks, where fixed rope, oxygen, well-stocked camps, and support systems are the norm. Here, we were on our own, a small team carrying only essential things, making our own decisions, and adapting to whatever the mountain presented us.”
For his part, Vinayak Jaya Malla said, “Let me tell you, for passionate mountaineers there’s nothing quite like the pure joy of alpine climbing in one of Nepal’s most remote areas. Far from human settlements and with no communication networks, one must be well prepared. Alpine-style climbing is a whole different game.”
—Lindsay Griffin, AAJ, with information from Vinayak Jaya Malla, Nepal
BE A FRIEND OF THE AAJ
Friends of the AAJ in the 2024 edition.
Love the AAJ? Consider supporting the 2025 edition with a donation—every donor of $250 or more can choose to be listed in the book as a “Friend of the AAJ.” Plus, these donors will receive a copy of our 2025 hardcover collector’s edition, signed by alpinist Jack Tackle. Of course, donations at any level are greatly appreciated.
To make a donation specifically for support of the 2025 AAJ, go to the “Donate” page at the AAC website, choose an amount, and select “American Alpine Journal” from the drop-down menu under “Apply Your Donation to a Specific Program.” The deadline for Friends of the AAJ members to be listed in the book and receive the limited-edition hardcover is April 15, 2025.
AAJ PHOTOS ARE BACK ONLINE
Good news for climbers and researchers: The AAC’s publications website has been repaired, and visitors can once again view all photos and captions posted with stories, and can enlarge photos with one click.
The AAC is working on an entirely new website, which will include the Club’s vast publications archive, slated to be launched this autumn. The site will have several upgrades, including new ways to search every article ever published in the AAJ or Accidents in North American Climbing.
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: [email protected].
The American Alpine Club Announces 2025 McNeill-Nott Winners
March 2025
The American Alpine Club (AAC) and Mountain Hardwear are excited to announce the 2025 McNeill-Nott recipients. With the untimely death of Sue Nott and her climbing partner Karen McNeill on Sultana (Mt. Foraker) in 2006, the AAC partnered with Mountain Hardwear to establish the McNeill-Nott Award in their memory. This award seeks to preserve the spirit of these two talented and courageous climbers by giving grants to amateur female climbers exploring new routes or unclimbed peaks with small teams.
Heather Smallpage
Heather Smallpage will receive $2,000 to attempt big wall and alpine-style first ascents in a little-climbed region of Baffin Island: Arviqtujuq Kangiqtua (formerly Eglinton Fjord). Natalie Afonina, Shira Biner, Char Tomlinson, and Kaylan Worsnop will all join the expedition, which will be almost entirely human-powered. The expedition team will travel over 250 km by skiing, climbing, packrafting, and walking. The team hopes that this expedition will not only inspire people to see what is possible for female and nonbinary alpinism but also emphasize how increasingly essential and joyous these spaces are in this sport and will tell a story that includes voices that are often quieted or left out of the climbing media.
Allie Oaks (left) and Angela VanWiemeersch (right).
Angela VanWiemeersch will receive $4,000 to attempt to establish a technical line in alpine style on a 5,000-meter peak in the Pamir Alai mountains of Kyrgyzstan. Allie Oaks will join VanWiemeersch on this expedition. Oaks and VanWiemeersch have been growing a long-distance partnership over the last four years and will be doing a training trip in the Canadian Rockies this April. This will be their first big expedition together.
PC: Robert Taylor
Brooke Maushund will receive $1,000 to attempt to climb and ski unclimbed peaks on the Southern Patagonian Icefield (Hielo Continental) with a primarily female team. Since avalanche forecasting in the U.S. during austral summers, Maushund was driven to extend her winters in the Southern Hemisphere. After spending close to four months skiing in Patagonia last year, starting to learn terrain, snowpacks, and weather patterns, she is excited to continue learning through exploratory skiing in this dynamic, wild environment.
Applications for the McNeill-Nott Award are accepted each year from October 1 through November 30.
Contact:
Berkeley Anderson, Foundation and Grants Coordinator: [email protected]
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About Mountain Hardwear
Mountain Hardwear, Inc., was founded in 1993 and is based in Richmond, CA. We exist to encourage and equip people to seek a wilder path in life. For 30 years, we’ve built essential equipment for climbers, mountaineers, and outdoor athletes and have supported expeditions on the world’s highest peaks. Relentless precision continues to inspire everything we do — our designers sweat every stitch and detail to continuously improve function, durability, and comfort. Mountain Hardwear is a wholly-owned subsidiary of Columbia Sportswear Company that distributes its products through specialty outdoor retailers in the United States and 34 countries worldwide. www.mountainhardwear.com
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