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
Featured
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
Featured
CLIMB: Kai Lightner Talks BTS of Death of Villains
Photo Credit: Gareth Leah
In this episode, we sit down with Kai Lightner to chat about his Reel Rock film, Death of Villains. Kai gives us a behind the scenes look at how the film came to be, some of the key themes of the film and how challenging it was to be so vulnerable about subjects like eating disorders and rediscovering how to climb in his growing body, and the big fight, believing that he could meet his childhood dreams of climbing 5.15. We also talk about redpoint strategies, injury, the partners who have shaped him, and what he’s discovered recently about climbing, even after 20 years in the sport!
Prescription—Knee Stuck in Crack
Wild as it may seem, every year we publish at least one report of a climber getting their knee stuck in an offwidth crack. Sound crazy? It happened to Martin Boysen on Trango Tower and more recently Jason Kruk on Boogie Till You Puke.
Queen Victoria Spire in Sedona, Arizona, was the scene of a stuck knee incident in 2023. Photos by Xander Ashburn | Wikimedia.
The final section of the second pitch of the Regular Route (III, 5.7) on Queen Victoria Spire. This four-inch crack trapped a climber on her first outdoor climb. Photo: Chris Thornley/Climbing Magazine
Knee Stuck in Crack
Sedona, Queen Victoria Spire
On January 8, Climber 1 (female, 25) got her knee stuck in a wide crack on the Regular Route (3 pitches, 5.7) on Queen Victoria Spire in Sedona. Climber 1 was following four friends on her first outdoor climb when she attempted an “alpine knee” while pulling onto a ledge on the second pitch.
An “alpine knee” is when you place that joint on top of a high hold and use it for progress, instead of a foot. Rather than helping her onto the ledge, Climber 1’s knee slipped into a four-inch-wide crack, where it wedged and became stuck. Others in her party tried pouring water over her knee in an attempt to free it but were unsuccessful.
At 5:15 p.m., the Coconino County Sheriff’s department was contacted to perform a rescue. By 8 p.m., the SAR team had arrived. It took over an hour to free the climber from the crack, and by then the climber was exhibiting signs of mild hypothermia (they had started climbing at 12:30 p.m.). The climbing party was airlifted off the spire. The stuck climber was not injured and refused treatment.
ANALYSIS
The climbers in this scenario did “everything right,” according to the SAR team. They tried to free their partner, and failing that, they initiated a rescue. Many relatively easy routes have awkward sections or styles of climbing that may seem above the technical grade when first encountered outdoors. Care should be taken when making a move where a slip or fall could result in injury or entrapment. It took about four hours to free this climber, and temperatures at the crag dropped to around 30°F. Consider worst-case scenarios when preparing for a climb, as unexpected events could result in prolonged exposure to the elements.
(Source: Dan Apodaca.)
Video Analysis
If getting your knee stuck in an offwidth is so common, what do we do if it happens? In the video analysis, ANAC editor Pete Takeda provides some tips on how to prepare for this kind of worst-case scenario when rock climbing.
Credits: Pete Takeda, Editor of Accidents in North American Climbing, and Hannah Provost, Content Director; Producer: Shane Johnson and Sierra McGivney @Sierra_McGivney; Videographer: Foster Denney @fosterdoodle_; Editor: Sierra McGivney @Sierra_McGivney; Location: Cob Rock, Boulder Canyon, CO
Similar Accidents—Accidents in North American Climbing
2022 | Leg Stuck in Crack
California, Joshua Tree National Park Left Horse Area2019 | Stranded—Knee Stuck in Wide Crack
Minnesota, Sandstone, Robinson Park2014 | Stranded—Knee Jammed in Crack
Wyoming, Vedauwoo, Easy Jam2009 | Stranded—Inability to Remove Anatomical Protection
California, Yosemite Valley, Bishops Terrace2006 | Stranded—Leg Stuck in Crack
British Columbia, Purcell Mountains Bugagoo Spire, Kain Route
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The American Alpine Club Announces 2025 Cutting Edge Grant Winners
PC: Nelson Neirinck
March 2025
The American Alpine Club and Black Diamond Equipment are pleased to announce the 2025 Cutting Edge Grant recipients. The Cutting Edge Grant continues the Club's 120-year tradition by funding individuals planning expeditions to remote areas featuring unexplored mountain ranges, unclimbed peaks, difficult new routes, first-free ascents, or similar world-class pursuits. Five teams have been awarded a total of $25,000 for this cycle, with objectives featuring a low-impact style and leave-no-trace mentality looked upon with favor. Black Diamond Equipment is a proud sponsor of the Cutting Edge Grant and a key partner in supporting cutting-edge alpinism.
Kishtwar Shivling. 2023. PC: Vitaliy Musiyenko
Vitaliy Musiyenko will be awarded $6,000 to attempt a new route on the southwest aspect of Kishtwar Shivling (6,000m), located in the Indian Himalayas. The mountain's main summit has only been reached once; the east summit was climbed in 2014, and the east pillar was climbed in 2015. Vitaliy Musiyenko will be attempting the route with Sean McLane. If they have enough time and energy in the tank, they hope to attempt another, unclimbed mountain with a similar altitude in the area.
Michael Hutchins
Michael Hutchins will be awarded $6,000 to attempt the southwest face of Rimo lll (7233m), an unclimbed 1600m face in the eastern Karakoram of India. Hutchins and Chris Wright discovered this objective because Wright caught a glimpse of the Rimo peaks after an expedition in 2012. Stefano Ragazzo will join them on their expedition. The team of three are all mountain guides with extensive climbing experience: Ragazzo recently rope-soloed Eternal Flame on Nameless Tower in Pakistan; Wright received the Piolet d'Or in 2020 for his team's ascent of Link Sar; and Hutchins has climbed six of seven major peaks in the Fitz Roy massif.
Tad McCrea. PC: Tad McCrea
Tad McCrea will be awarded $4,000 to attempt the southeast pillar of Latok lll (6,949 meters) from the Choktoi Glacier. Latok III has never been climbed from the Choktoi glacier but was summited from the west face in 2011. The expedition team will include Jon Giffin and Thomas Huber. The three climbers attempted the proposed route in 2024 but had to descend before bad weather moved in.
Zach Lovell. PC: Carrie Mueller
Zach Lovell will be awarded $4,000 to attempt a new route on Dorje Lhakpa (6966m), located in the Jugal Himal, about 55 kilometers northeast of Kathmandu. Japhy Dhungana and Joseph Hobby will join Lovell on this expedition, which will involve over 1,000 meters of technical climbing from 5900 to 6900 meters. Dhungana and Lovell did their first new route in the alpine together in Nepal several years ago and are looking forward to another adventure in Dhungana's home country. Hobby and Lovell have also spent countless days climbing and skiing together, from the contiguous U.S. to Alaska. Lovell is honored to call both of them some of his closest friends and looks forward to spending time together as a team of three.
Ethan Berman negotiating a short mixed step low down on Ultar Sar in 2024. PC: Maarten van Haeren
Ethan Berman will be awarded $5,000 to attempt the southeast "hidden" pillar of Ultar Sar (7388 m), located in the Karakoram Range of Pakistan. The route is a striking 3000m line, with the lower half of the route consisting of 1500m of steep snow and ice climbing with a couple of mixed steps, and the upper half consisting of a 1500m stunning rock pillar that cuts a line through the sky all the way to the summit. Maarten van Haeren, Sebastian Pelletti, and Berman attempted the route in the spring of 2024, reaching a hanging glacier at 6000m before turning around due to dangerous snow conditions. They made three attempts total, each time climbing a bit higher while learning how to move safely through the complexities of the route. They are fired up to return to Pakistan with the support of the Cutting Edge Grant and hope to apply all that they learned last year to increase their chances of success.
Applications for the Cutting Edge Grant are accepted each year from October 1 through November 30.
Contact:
Berkeley Anderson, Foundation and Grants Coordinator: [email protected]
Presented by:
Featured
Your Quarterly Message From AAC Leadership
Sea to Summit
Found in Translation
CONNECT: Remembering Charlie Through an Epic on Mt. Whitney
In this episode, we’re sitting down with AAC member David Corvi to talk about his Live Your Dream grant experience—a beautiful day that turned into a 24 hour epic on Mt. Whitney in September of 2024. Getting off route, climbing through pockets of ice and show, and getting lost on the descent were only some of what the team experienced that day.
Because there is another layer of complexity to this story, a mental load that added a unique weight to that experience. David’s trip to Whitney was also in memory of his stillborn son, Charlie. In the episode, David shares about his family’s experience with infant and child loss, how climbing and other forms of outdoor adventures have helped him process his grief and continue to parent Charlie even though he is gone, and likewise he reflects on how physical challenges, like half marathons and the Whitney trip, are a way to honor the life Charlie won’t ever get to experience. Dive into this episode to hear about your classic alpine day gone wrong, and just one way that grief and loss can be processed in the mountains.
David and his wife with Charlie.
David and his Whitney expedition partners Dan and Brian.
Episode Resources:
Apply to the Live Your Dream Grant (Opening March 1st, 2025)
Charles Martin Corvi Fund Website
Deep Survival by Laurence Gonzalez
Resources On Infant or Child Loss:
Healthy Birthday (Stillbirth Prevention Advocates)
The Line: News From the Cascades to the Karakoram
Binocular view of the crux fourth pitch of Borrowed Time on the west face of Sloan Peak. Photo: Michael Telstad.
SLOAN PEAK, BORROWED TIME
The west face of Sloan Peak, about 20 kilometers southwest of Glacier Peak in Washington’s North Cascades, has seen a flurry of winter climbing in the past five years. But one obvious plum remained: a direct route up the center of the face, with an intimidating crux pitch leading past steep rock to a hanging dagger. In January, Northwest climbers Justin Sackett and Michael Telstad picked that plum, climbing nearly 2,000 feet up the west face in a long day. We’re sharing Telstad’s report for AAJ 2025 here.
The west face of Sloan Peak (7,835’) has been at the forefront of my mind for about as long as I’ve been winter climbing. Despite numerous attempts, the main face was unclimbed to the summit in winter until 2022, with the completion of Superalpine (IV WI3/4, Legallo-Roy). In 2023, the Merrill-Minton (a.k.a. The Sloan Slither, 1,600’, IV WI4+) climbed partway up the center of the face, then moved rightward to join Superalpine. A previous winter line on Sloan Peak, Full Moon Fever (IV AI4 R 5.8, Downey-Hinkley-Hogan, 2011), started on the west face then angled up the northern shoulder.
Directly above the point where the Merrill-Minton cuts right to easier ground, a large hanging dagger is guarded by gently overhanging, compact gneiss. Known as one of the biggest unpicked plums in the North Cascades, the direct line past the dagger was going to get climbed sooner or later—it was just a question of by whom and in what style. When a perfect weather window arrived in the forecast, I convinced Justin Sackett to drive up from Portland for an attempt.
The west face of Sloan Peak showing the line of Borrowed Time, climbed in January 2025. The climbers followed the Merrill-Minton Route (2023) up to the middle of the big rock band, then continued straight up where the Merrill-Minton veered right. Photo: John Scurlock.
Early on January 19, 2025, we stepped away from the car and into the rainforest. We reached the base of the route at first light. Following the Merrill-Minton for the first three pitches, we encountered climbing up to WI5 R—a far cry from the moderate ice reported on the first ascent. Below the dagger, we took a short break and got ready for an adventure. I’d chosen to leave the bolt kit behind. This route deserved an honest attempt on natural gear before being sieged.
No bolts on this mixed pitch: Michael Telstad zigzags up overhanging gneiss on the fourth pitch of Borrowed Time, the M7 crux of the route. Photo: Justin Sackett.
After traversing back and forth a few times, I chose my line to the ice and started up. The rock on this portion of the wall is highly featured but compact and fractured. Just about every seam that might take gear was packed full of frozen moss; finding decent protection was a slow, agonizing process. A steep crux near the end of the pitch held potential for a huge fall, but an improbable no-hands rest allowed me just enough of a reprieve to get good gear.
On the summit. Photo: Justin Sackett.
Justin joined me in the sun above the dagger, and we continued up a pitch of perfect blue water ice to snow slopes. Rather than finish via the standard scramble route, we opted for an obvious corner system above us. Reminiscent of Shaken Not Stirred on the Mooses Tooth in Alaska, this narrow slot held steps of water ice broken by sections of steep snow—the ideal finish to an excellent climb.
Arriving on the windless summit around 3:45 p.m., we took a short break and began our descent along the southeast shelf. After what felt like an eternity of steep downclimbing, we post-holed back to the cars, arriving a bit after 8 pm. Our direct new route is called Borrowed Time (1,900’, IV WI5 M7).
RESCUE ON SLOAN PEAK
In a sad footnote to the Sloan Peak story, a climber was severely injured in a long fall on the mountain about a week after the ascent reported above, apparently attempting one of the initial pitches on either this line or the Merrill-Minton route. The climber was pulled from the face in a dramatic helicopter mission—the five-minute video from Snohomish County Sheriff’s Office is a remarkable window into such rescues. We wish the climber well in his recovery.
The third bivouac on the north pillar of Yashkuk Sar I. Photo courtesy of Dane Steadman.
YASHKUK SAR FIRST ASCENT
Crashhhhh! rang through the perfectly still night. To say this woke up August Franzen, Cody Winckler, and me would be a lie. How could we sleep? We were camped below the biggest objective of our lives, on our first trip to Pakistan, alone in the Yashkuk Yaz Valley aside from our two cooks and liaison officer back at base camp, surrounded by the most beautiful, terrifying, inspiring, and chaotic mountains we’d ever seen. Now, on the glacier beneath Yashkuk Sar I (6,667m), about a mile past our advanced base camp, I poked my head out the tent door to see a gargantuan avalanche roaring down the peak’s north wall, its powder cloud billowing toward us.
“Should we run?” asked August.
That’s the start of the article Dane Steadman has written for AAJ 2025. The new AAJ will be mailed to AAC members in September, but you can hear Dane talk about this climb right now in the latest Cutting Edge podcast. Along with Dane’s interview, you’ll hear alpinists Kelly Cordes and Graham Zimmerman, plus AAJ editor Dougald MacDonald, sharing their insights on this climb and the unique challenges and attractions of climbing in the Karakoram.
The 2024 Yashkuk Sar I expedition was supported by a Cutting Edge grant from the American Alpine Club.
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].
