CONNECT: The Next Generation of Crag Developers

The mentorship gap is a frequent topic of discussion in a lot of climbing circles, and the gap seems to be especially pronounced for climbers trying to get into crag and boulder development. In this episode, we dove into the joys of having too many mentors to count.


Long-time developer and AAC member Josh Pollock decided to collaborate with Jefferson County, in the Front Range of Colorado, to develop a beginner-friendly crag called the Narrow Gauge Slabs. For this project, sustainability and accessibility was a focus from the start, and Josh and other local developers designed a mentorship program that would coincide with developing the crag, to support climbers of traditionally marginalized backgrounds who want to equip themselves with knowledge and mentorship resources so that they could be developers and mentors in their own right. In this episode, we sat down with Lily Toyokura Hill and Ali Arfeen, two mentees in the program who have really taken this experience and run with it, stepping into leadership roles in the local climbing community. We cover what inspired them to become developers, perceptions of route development and who belongs, grading and individual bolting styles, and much more. The conversation with Lily, Ali, and Josh illuminates a lot about the power of mentorship and the complex considerations of developing in modern climbing.


The Prescription—Quickdraw Unclipped

Accessible, low-key, and enjoyable, Pilot Mountain State Park in North Carolina was the scene of a serious accident in March 2023. The mishap was a classic case of climbers doing all the right things yet still having an accident. Idawriter | Wiki Commons

Fall on Rock | Quickdraw Unclipped from Bolt Hanger

North Carolina, Pilot Mountain State Park

My climbing partner (31) and I, Alec Gilmore (29), went sport climbing at Pilot Mountain State Park in March 2023. I have ten years of climbing experience, and my partner has six, and we both take pride in our risk assessment and careful approach. The first route we planned to climb was occupied, so we found a nearby route that neither of us had previously tried. We incorrectly identified the route as a 5.7. The route was actually Goodness Gracious (5.10a). I quickly realized the route was harder, but I had previously led up to 5.11 here, so I went on and clipped three bolts and then hung to work out the crux. It involved throwing a high heel hook and manteling onto an awkward bulge.

This photo, taken immediately after Gilmore fell, shows the alpine quickdraw that came unclipped from a bolt hanger. Alec Gilmore 

I got partially over the bulge and needed to make one more move but couldn't find a good handhold. I ended up falling off. Instead of stopping, I hit the ground after falling 20 feet. Both feet landed on a flat rock step on the main hiking trail. My belayer took up enough slack so that the rope started to catch right as my feet hit. After lying on the ground, overcoming the initial shock and pain, I realized that the alpine quickdraw that I had clipped into the third bolt was still clipped to the rope. Somehow as I was wrestling with the move, it had come unclipped from the hanger. I was wearing a helmet, but fortunately I did not hit my head or back during the fall.

Park staffers were alerted by a nearby climber, and in about 30 to 45 minutes a team of park employees, other climbers, and volunteers arrived and loaded me onto a transport basket. For the next hour and a half, they carried me back up to the summit, where an ambulance was waiting. At one point they rigged a rope and hauled me up a steep hill to shorten the journey. At the hospital, X-rays showed I had fractured both heel bones. One of the fractures was bad enough to require surgery, and I received a plate and four screws.

ANALYSIS

The first mistake we made was not being sure of what route we were climbing. We had recently been trying routes we hadn't previously climbed. The route I fell from was on my to-do list, but the plan was to warm up with an easier route.

The second mistake was the positioning of the carabiner on the bolt hanger. I knew that it was possible for a carabiner to unclip from a bolt hanger if it's pulled up against the wall in a certain way. I try to keep the spine of the carabiner pointed in the direction I'm climbing. When I was clipping the third bolt, I thought I would climb toward the left side of the bulge. The line turned out to go right. Somehow, as I wrestled with the move, the quickdraw came unclipped.

It’s an unsettling thought, but carabiners can, on rare occasions, unclip from bolt hangers. When the bolt is clipped from right to left and the hanger angles down to the right, tension on the quickdraw can raise the carabiner and lever the gate open. Foster Denney 


Editor’s Note:  This is a classic case of fellow climbers doing all the right things yet still having an accident.

Though rare, carabiners can come unclipped from bolt hangers. A few things to consider: The hanger-clipping-end carabiner should be loose in the sling, never held by a rubber keeper. Both carabiners on a quickdraw should be oriented with the gates facing the same direction. As Alec mentions, quickdraws should be clipped so the gates are oriented away from the direction of travel. 

 The direction in which one clips also can be a factor in certain cases. Clipping the opposite direction from the angle of the carabiner hole will minimize the possibility of the carabiner levering against the hanger and unclipping. Almost all plate-style bolt hangers have the clipping section on the left side of the hanger. So, the ideal clipping direction would be from left to right. Other factors (like the ones mentioned above) may be more important in a given situation, but when you have a choice, this is the preferred method.

For even more security, a safer play is to flip the gate so it opens downwards. Better yet, if the clip is critical, e.g. before or after a runout, use a locking carabiner on the hanger end of the quickdraw.

 (Source: Alec Gilmore and the Editors.)


The Prescription—Video Series

Under some circumstances, quickdraws can unclip themselves. Pete Takeda, editor of Accidents in North American Climbing, and IFMGA/AMGA guide Jason Antin are back to show you that clipping bolts isn’t always as simple as it seems. Dive in to get the accident analysis informing these takeaways, and some quick tips on how to mitigate risk when clipping bolt hangers.

Credits:
Pete Takeda, Editor of Accidents in North American Climbing, and Jason Antin @jasonantin, IFMGA/AMGA Certified Mountain Guide; Producer: Shane Johnson; Cinematographer or Videographer: Foster Denney; Editor: Sierra McGivney; Location: Accessibility Crag, Clear Creek Canyon, CO; Presenting Sponsor: Rocky Talkie @rockytalkies.


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AAC's 2024 Impact Report

At the AAC, we believe in the power of climbing to change lives. We are driven by the potential to support every climber that we can, to use the AAC’s expertise and legacy to deliver resources that climbers can lean on—that’s why we are so proud of this Impact Report. Each grant recipient we inspired, each lodging guest we launched into adventure, each climber who has learned how to climb a little more safely, is what drives our work.

How does it all break down?

Here’s how we’ve met the needs of the AAC community this year.


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Feeling inspired? Support this work!

An Update on the AAC's Craggin' Classic Series and Hueco Rock Rodeo

PC: Hunter Johnson, @shinyshinysilver

The American Alpine Club will no longer host the Craggin’ Classic Series or the Hueco Rock Rodeo. We’re thrilled with the impact these events have had over the years and the ways they connected the climbing community. At the same time, we’re inspired by our new Strategic Plan and are confident that we are equipped to deliver even greater impact for climbers with this plan guiding the AAC’s activities for the next three years.

PC: Hunter Johnson

The AAC ran the Craggin’ Classic Series for 13 years, and we're proud of the positive impact those events had on climbers and communities over that time. Nina Williams, AAC Board President, first connected with the Club through the Craggin’ series, and she is not alone. It is certainly true the Craggin’s were a party with a heart, and they truly epitomized bringing the community together over a passion for climbing. Across the 13 years of this series, we estimate that we've served over 30,000 attendees and nearly 8,000 clinic participants. Those same participants have given back to the local crags that host these events with well over 10,000 stewardship hours.

Additionally, the AAC hosted the Hueco Rock Rodeo event for over a decade, and we're proud to have played a role in responsibly introducing thousands of climbers from around the globe to this amazing landscape and world-class bouldering destination. The Rodeo focused on encouraging climbers to challenge themselves through friendly competition while fostering a strong sense of community. It was also an important vehicle to introduce many climbers to the ethics of respecting a fragile landscape and the Indigenous communities that share this land. We’re excited to continue to be a conduit for responsible climbing in Hueco through our iconic lodging facility, the Hueco Rock Ranch. 

We look forward to continuing to serve our members, engage local communities, and celebrate climbing through both new and existing initiatives. Please visit this page to learn more about the recently adopted AAC Strategic Plan.



EDUCATE: The Forgotten Stonemaster

We are so excited to have longtime AAC member Rick Accomazzo on the podcast to chat about his new book “Tobin, the Stonemasters, and Me, 1970-1980.” This book is part memoir of Rick’s own early climbing career, part revealing biography of Tobin Sorenson, the forgotten Stonemaster who was an incredible all-arounder; and part a distillation of a decade of climbing culture. With these three threads, the book weaves together many untold climbing stories from an iconic, pivotal decade, from “before climbing lost its innocence,” as John Long says in his forward to the book. Listen to the episode to hear some key stories from the book and learn about the ten-year process of putting it together.

We’d also like to congratulate Rick for his book being longlisted for the Banff Mountain Literature Award! Dive into the episode to get your dose of forgotten climbing history. You can grab your own copy at stonemasterbooks.com


The Line: Exploring Africa’s Stunning Granite Domes

In AAJ 2024, we highlighted new climbs in Angola spearheaded by American climber Nathan Cahill, along with local developers—see Cahill’s story here. The pace of exploration on the beautiful rock of this southwest African country has not slowed. This past summer, a Spanish quintet visited the province of Cuanza Sul and climbed seven new routes on six different granite domes. Here is the story they‘ve prepared for the 2025 AAJ.

CONDA AREA, FIRST ASCENTS OF HUGE DOMES

Top: Climbing Bon Día Boa Noite on Hande. Establishing the 420-meter 7a was the highlight of the July 2024 trip, said Manu Ponce. Bottom: The topo for Bon Día Boa Noite. (Manu Ponce Collection)

During July 2024, our team of five Spaniards—Miguel A. Díaz, Alex Gonzalez, Indi Gutierrez, Jaume Peiró, and me, Manu Ponce—traveled to Angola in search of big walls. Having many options to explore, we decided to start in the Conda region of Cuanza Sul province, around eight hours south of Luanda, the capital. Once in Conda, we headed about ten kilometers south to the village of Cumbira Segundo.

We knew from past reports that we would find big walls, but the reality far exceeded what we imagined. Amid the lush jungles surrounding the small village of Cumbira Segundo were enormous granite domes, between 200 and 400 meters tall. Some of these had been climbed before, but many had not.

In this type of adventure, the easiest aspect is often the climbing itself, and this was true here, as the dense vegetation full of wild animals—many of them very poisonous—required us to open paths to the walls with extreme care. Taking turns, we chopped through the jungle with machetes meter by meter until we reached our starting points.

Once on the wall, we were in our element, though temperatures were scorching: between 20°C and 25°C, with almost 100 percent humidity. These were truly tropical conditions. We tried to choose walls in the shade, although this wasn’t always possible.

We climbed everything ground-up, using bolts as sparingly as possible, though some of the walls had very little opportunity for removable protection. Most of our routes involved technical slab climbing, with few cracks, poor handholds, and friction-dependent footwork. This meant that, at the end of the day, you would end up with your head mentally fried.

We had several wild moments during the expedition: falls of more than ten meters with a drill included, scorpions as big as your hand defending their nest as you climbed, and running into black mambas on the nightly return to camp. Despite this, if asked if we would return, we would all answer without hesitation: Sim, claro!

In total, we opened seven routes on six different peaks, two of which had never been summited before. This totaled around 2,000 meters of climbing, all of which made us sweat meter by meter. The seven routes were: 

●      Bon Día Boa Noite (420m climbing distance, 7a) on Hande.

●      Peluchitos (380m, 7b) on Hande.

●      Vuelta al Armario por Festivos (350m, 6b+) on Cunduvile.

Top, from left to right: Indi Gutierrez, Chilean Lucho Birkner of Climbing for a Reason, Manu Ponce, and Miguel A. Díaz on the summit after the first ascent of Leca via Raices (200m, 6c). The dome Hande rises behind. Bottom: The topo for Raices. (Manu Ponce Collection)

●      Quero verte Vocé (100m, 6a+) on Wende, first ascent of the formation.

●      Raices (200m, 6c) on Leca, first ascent of the formation.

●      Os Mulatos (130m, 6c+), the first climbing route on Cawanji. The formation can be ascended by hiking via another route.

●      Fumaca Densa (115m, 7b) on Nhenje.

We received much valuable help from Nathan Cahill of  Climb Angola, and Lucho Birkner and Javiera Ayala from the nonprofit Climbing for a Reason. The local community, specifically all the children with which the latter organization works, helped us from the moment we got up each day until we returned in the evening through the dense vegetation. A very humble community opened its arms to us without asking for anything in return.

A group of women from Cumbira Segundo. The Angolan village is surrounded by many large granite domes. (Manu Ponce Collection)

We are particularly grateful for the work Climbing for a Reason is doing in this place. It has given life and a lot of hope to a large part of the town’s population: the children. Due to the incredible climbing and potential for route development, we are sure this place soon will be visited by people from all over the world. Climbing for a Reason is helping prepare and teach the inhabitants what can be done in their “garden.”

In all, we are very happy with what we have achieved, and more importantly with the experience we had with the people of Cumbira Segundo. Our weeks were full of learning, and we came to feel comfortable in a wild terrain full of surprises.

Manu Ponce, Spain


CUTTING EDGE PODCAST: NEW HOST, MORE VOICES

The Cutting Edge podcast returns for its seventh season this week, with a new host and deeper dives into first ascents and iconic climbing locations around the world. Hosting the show is filmmaker and podcaster Jim Aikman, creator of the AAC’s “Legacy Series,” featuring interviews with climbing legends from the Club’s deep vault of oral history.

As it has for the past six years, the podcast will continue to center on a recent cutting-edge ascent. Each month, Jim also will explore the climbing history and significance of the peak or range we’re visiting, drawing on the expertise of the American Alpine Journal team, as well as other climbers past and present.

Up first: Mt. Dickey in Alaska’s Great Gorge of the Ruth Glacier. British climber Tom Livingstone talks about his brand-new route up the south face, and you’ll also hear from AAJ Editor Dougald MacDonald, Ruth Gorge climber and filmmaker Freddie Wilkinson, and an archival interview from the late David Roberts, who was first to climb Dickey’s mile-high walls, half a century ago.

We asked Jim Aikman for a few thoughts on taking over as host of the podcast:

1. What’s your number one goal in taking the reins of The Cutting Edge?

Well, this is a beloved show with a great following, so the first goal is to continue delivering for the core audience. Beyond that, I'll be bringing a documentary style to the storytelling, where interviews still drive the show but I'll dig more into the history and larger context through research, voiceover, thematic richness, and more expert voices. The ultimate goal is to create a compelling narrative that explores the depth and meaning of a new climb, its setting, history—and what it adds to the limitless evolution of the sport.

2. Why should the average climber care about cutting-edge climbs?

I think this gets to the essence of climbing and what makes it interesting to me as a storyteller. Climbing is still so new, and it really shines on the extreme end of the learning curve. Startling stuff is happening all the time, and will continue to, because we are still exploring what we're capable of as a species interacting with the natural world. That comes through better training practices, technical innovation, and sheer boldness, playing out in venues with the highest stakes, yet with perhaps intangible rewards. I’ve heard answers to the question “why climb?” from many of climbing's greatest luminaries, and the answers are as philosophical as they are bewildering, and that just draws me in. Obviously I'm not alone in that, as we've watched climbing stories and figures finally break into the mainstream in recent years.

3. You obviously love climbing history. What draws you to the stories and people from climbing’s past?

I’ve been telling climbing stories since 2007, starting with Sender Films and the Reel Rock crew, followed by 15 years of short and feature-length documentaries on the sport. Then there’s the VIP interview series, which I've been capturing for the AAC with Jim McCarthy and Tom Hornbein (who we lost last year, RIP) since 2012. We have more than 75 interviews telling the oral history of American climbing, and we're still going strong. I think history is fascinating in general, but climbing is just this incredible spectrum of personalities and motivations, all playing out in the last couple of generations. I mean, how crazy is it that Americans reached the highest point on Earth only six years before we put people on the moon? And now we have this progression of strength and technique that makes the sport incredible to track as a purely athletic pursuit. I'm a fan of other sports as well, but there's really nothing like 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].

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The Prescription: Cams and Magical Thinking—October 2024

Cams might not be as bomber as you think. We are stoked to kick off our Prescription video series by unpacking some magical thinking around cams. This video series will give you greater detail and visual insight into the accidents analyzed in our monthly Prescription newsletters. Featuring Accidents in North American Climbing Editor Pete Takeda, and IFMGA/AMGA Mountain Guide Jason Antin, these bite-sized lessons will get you thinking about how this accident analysis applies to you and your climbing.

For Rocktober we have two accidents that represent a larger trend we noticed in 2023. This trend involves: 1) Placing an inadequate number of protection pieces and 2) Poorly placed camming protection.

Lead Fall on Rock | Cam Pulled Out

Smith Rock State Park, Morning Glory Wall

The crux section of Lion’s Chair Start (5.10c/d R) at Smith Rock. The larger red circle marks the bolt that Genereux was attempting to clip, prior to falling to the ground. The smaller red circle marks the location of the 0.4 cam that pulled out when he fell. Photo: Garrett Genereux.

Garrett Genereux submitted the following report to ANAC:

At the end of a great day of climbing on May 15, my partner Lance (30) and I, Garrett Genereux (34), decided to do one last route on our way out of the main area. We stopped at Lion’s Chair Start (5.10c/d R). As usual, no one was on it despite the routes on both sides being busy. I had been on the route several times before.

I didn't realize how tired I was until on the route. I was trying to conserve energy by not placing too much pro. I was about one body length above my first two pieces of gear and placed a 0.4 cam. My belayer asked if it was a good placement. I assured him that it was fine and kept moving. As I approached the first bolt, where the crack pinches down, I became very fatigued and started getting scared. I wanted to clip the bolt as fast as I could. I was able to hang the draw at my farthest reach. Then I pulled up rope to make the clip. As I inched the rope closer to the lower carabiner, my left foot greased off and I fell.

There was a ton of rope in the system, and when I heard the 0.4 plink out of the crack, I knew I was going to the ground. My left foot briefly hit and then I landed on my butt. I lost my breath and made some guttural noises trying to get it back. I lay supine. My ankle hurt and my lower back was pretty tight, but I had full sensation and movement below. I even remember feeling like I needed to pee while lying there and took that as a good sign.

The folks nearby were able to clean up the lower pieces and someone with the longest stick clip I've ever seen, snagged the draw off the bolt. Someone let me borrow their camp chair. I was able to slip off my climbing shoes. My left ankle was dark in color and already beginning to swell, but I could bear weight and felt that we didn’t need a crew to carry me out.

My partner carried the gear and I used my stick clip as a walking stick as we hiked to the road. My ankle was just a soft-tissue injury, and my back had compression fractures at T12, L1, and L2. Two months later, I was back climbing and feeling well. Since then I have even gotten back on the same route. I sewed it up with 11 pieces rather than three.

ANALYSIS

Simply put, I did not place enough protection. In the first 15 feet, I only placed three pieces: a nut and a cam protecting the start and then the 0.4 cam that pulled. Also, I could have climbed a bit higher to a better hold and clipped the bolt with the same amount of rope in the system as I had when I fell. I also should have checked in with myself mentally and physically. While it is not the most difficult route, it does take focus and it gets an R rating in the newest guide. (Source: Garrett Genereux.)


Leader Fall on Rock | Protection Pulled Out

Lander, Sinks Canyon, Sandstone Buttress

Gunky (5.8) is a popular route in Sinks Canyon that protects well with hexes and nuts. Familiarity with passive gear and more cam-placing skills might have helped prevent an accident that occurred in July 2023. The high X marks where Taylor fell, and the low X marks where he landed. Photo: Joe M.

On the morning of July 10, Mac Taylor (25) fell on the first pitch of Gunky (2 pitches, 5.8). He wrote the following account for ANAC:

“Two friends and I hiked to the base of Gunky (5.8) at the Sandstone Buttress. I was new to the area. We hiked with gear on our harnesses while carrying ropes and a bag with water and extra gear. I decided to lead the first pitch, despite being told that there was a scary roof section. Part of the reason I chose to lead it was that I already had most of the gear racked on my harness. On the route, I placed a large nut and a number 1 Camalot. I then clipped a bolt and placed a 0.75 Camalot in a shallow slot deep in the crack that I was climbing. 

“Halfway up the pitch, I rested and placed a number 2 Camalot deep in an offwidth-sized crack. I laybacked the crack and got established below the roof. From there, I struggled to find comfortable holds. I was about 10 feet above my last piece.

“I decided to backtrack. My belayer was pulling in slack while I downclimbed. About five feet above my last piece, I fell. My hands slipped first, and my feet were still on the wall. I flipped upside down and pulled two pieces. The number 2 was a good placement, but it was placed straight in the crack, not oriented in the direction of the fall. It levered out and tweaked the cam lobes. The 0.75 just pulled out. I was caught by the bolt after falling 30 feet. My belayer was yanked up then dropped back to the ground as the last piece pulled. This resulted in bruising on their elbows and lower back. I split my lip, sprained my ankle, and cut up my left forearm, with heavy bruising on the right side of my abdomen from my harness.  

“I had stopped right before hitting a ledge. I was lowered to our belay stance, a very large ledge above a slabby wall. My belayer ran down to the car to grab my first-aid kit while I lay on the ground. In the parking lot was an AMGA guide who was also a Wilderness Emergency Medical Technician (WEMT). Rather than navigate the entire approach, the guide lowered me down the slabby wall. I walked out with the help of my friends, and we went to the emergency room. I was given a stirrup and crutches for my ankle, and I got stitches in my lip. I had no internal injuries.”

ANALYSIS

Taylor wrote, “I think the two biggest factors were my overconfidence and my poor gear placements. I had been warned the route had a scary section, and it was the hardest trad climb I would have done up to that time. I definitely should have let a friend lead this pitch while I took the second, less scary pitch. I also really thought I had placed some good pieces on the climb. I should go back and practice my placements more and get some critical feedback from someone more experienced.” (Source: Mac Taylor.)


Editor’s Note: Cams vs. Nuts

In the 2024 ANAC, there were 13 accidents caused or aggravated by pulled protection. All of them involved a failed cam placement. Whether placed by a novice or professional climber, none of the pulled protection was a nut, hex, or other passive gear.

In my own climbing career, I’ve been as guilty as anyone when it came to magical thinking around cams. When I got my hands on a set of rigid Friends (the first commercially viable spring-loaded camming devices) they were like fast food—quick and convenient. The subconscious belief was that devices of such expense and complexity must have had hidden powers. In some cases, cams outperformed our expectations. But we were to discover that also like fast food, cams came with hidden health risks. I’d often find myself placing a marginal cam, even when there was an obvious and solid nut placement staring me in the face. On several occasions, a poorly runnered cam fell out below my feet, creating a unexpected runout. Another time while I belayed, my partner fell, snapping the shaft of a poorly placed Friend. After these incidents I embarked on a trad curriculum that saw me using only passive gear for a good part of an entire season.

While not as sexy as a rack of the latest cams, a set of hexes, nuts, and Tricams provides light, simple, and intuitive protection. Though cams are often “easier” to place and frequently cover a wide size range, they are also intricate and fussy gadgets that require advanced skill to properly set and assess. As Taylor notes above, simply not orienting the stem in the direction of loading can cause an otherwise good placement to lever out. It is good to remember that although cams will sometimes hold in flares, soft rock, choss, and in shallow placements, sometimes they don’t. And due to a multitude of unseen factors inherent to their mechanism of action, cams can even fail in perfect looking placements.

—Pete Takeda, ANAC Editor


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AAC's Strategic Plan—2025-2027

Photo by AAC member Jeremiah Watt

What follows is the AAC’s Strategic Plan leading up to the organization’s 125th anniversary. Our plan is rooted in our core belief that climbing can change lives and ignite a passion and sense of meaning within its practitioners. With the power of climbing in mind, we are dedicated to facilitating this passion and supporting climbers as they seek their most fulfilling relationship with climbing.

Vision

A community of thriving climbers.

Mission

Provide climbers with resources that advance knowledge, inspiration, and advocacy.

Values

• Adventure

• Inspiration

• Curiosity

• Inclusion

• Commitment


Photo by AAC member Kylie Fly

Pillars

Empower Members

The AAC is committed to providing the tools, resources, and support necessary for climbers to thrive and excel in their pursuits. At each opportunity that we engage with our members, we’ll create a culture of empowerment for climbers of all backgrounds and skill levels to live their dreams.

Inspire Through Storytelling

The AAC has a powerful history of inspiring and uniting climbers through storytelling. We

will deepen our investment in these stories that evoke emotions, spark curiosity, and fuel imagination, encouraging climbers to pursue dreams, push limits, and connect with the natural world.

Advocate for Our Members and the Places We Climb

The AAC is committed to conserving climbing areas, mitigating impacts on nature, and advocating for members’ rights. Through advocacy, policy, and partnerships, we will continue to activate our members to protect the places they climb.


Photo by AAC member Calder Davey

Strategic Priorities

Enhance Member Experience

We prioritize personalized interactions and know that top-tier benefits are key to enhancing member satisfaction and loyalty. We will go beyond transactions, striving to build lasting connections by addressing members’ holistic needs.

Prioritize Collaboration and Partnerships

The AAC recognizes the power of collective action in protecting climbers and their cherished climbing destinations and will focus on seeking collaborative partnerships and promoting cross-sector collaboration.

Focus on Organizational Sustainability

We will align our efforts with key strategies that drive growth, ensure stability, and foster sustainability. Our focus areas include: developing skilled and engaged staff, ensuring long-term financial stability, modernizing infrastructure, enhancing risk management and compliance, and increasing environmental sustainability.

Increase Brand Clarity and Visibility

The AAC will sharpen its brand and expand its national reach to stand out within the outdoor community. This effort aims to increase AAC’s visibility and connect better with climbers nationwide.

“This Must Be The Place…”: A Story from the Gunks

May Perez Climbing Arrow (5.8). Photo by Eric Ratkowski. 

By Marian (May) Perez

A place I look forward to getting to, another place I call home. I sometimes drive through local roads outside of New Paltz, most of the time I drive up the thruway from New Jersey to go upstate. Jamming to my favorite tunes on repeat with joy or crying my heartache away from emotional pains. Once I see the stretch of windy road on Rt 299, passing by the farms and artwork, the interesting sculpture at the four way stop that not only indicates I’m getting closer, but also prompts the first appearance of the massive being known as the Shawangunks. I pass through the AAC campground to reminisce and surprise my close friends, a safe place for me to exist. A place where I’ve lived in my car and woke up next to the being called the West Trapps. A place where you look into the distance and see tiny dots of color climbing up the wall like ants making their way with their daily discoveries. A place where if you listen deep enough, you can hear the echoes of folks letting their partners know “Off belay!”

At the sight of apple trees and the random billboard, my body wakes up. I know what I’m about to see and I know where I’m about to go. This must be the place, exit 18 to New Paltz, NY, home of the Shawangunk Mountains and home to me, where I want to be.

I drive through town with my windows down, taking in all the quirky things that make this place special. Making stops at my favorite gear shop, Rock and Snow, and grabbing the best coffee and tea in town at The Ridge Tea and Spice. I say hi to all my friends, grounding myself after a long drive and filling my heart cup knowing people care about me.

Vanessa and Hannah on Cascading Crystal Kaleidoscope (CCK) (5.8 PG13). Photo by May Perez.

I look up to spot the Dangler Roof. Close my eyes and daydream about sitting on the GT Ledge on Three Pines or Something Interesting, looking out in the valley trying to find the campground and all the land surrounding it, thinking about how small we humans actually are. We might not have the biggest mountains, but the feeling is the same I’ve had looking out into Yosemite Valley. The beauty of being surrounded by so much, and still so much to see. Or the privilege to be on a 9,000 ft long cliff in the middle of the day.

I open my eyes to find myself on the GT Ledge, realizing I’ve been present the whole time. It’s sunset and there’s still so much light on the cliff, except the darkness that hides in the trees below me. It might seem like we’ve been benighted, but the quartz conglomerate glows for us a bit longer to finish up Crystal Cascading Kaleidoscope (CCK) 5.7+, one of the wildest traverses of the grade. I follow my leader after they send and get ready to tip toe my way over to the big flake, trusting the polished feet and jamming my way up the #1 hand crack, up further to the crimpy ledge, back over to my partner, stoked to see me pull the last moves over the top of the cliff. We enjoy the last bit of light and share gratitude to the day and how we overcame what was presented to us, wild adventure no more than 400 ft below us. 

This must be the place, the place I like to call home, where I want to be. 


It’s not too late! Experience epic fall climbing at the Gunks and book your stay at the Gunks Campground in Gardiner, New York until November 10.

CLIMB: Undercover Crusher Connie Shang

On this episode of the Undercover Crusher series, we have Connie Shang on the podcast to talk about her recent send of Spyfiction, a 5.14c in Mt. Charleston, Nevada. We discuss her projecting process, how she’s leveled up over the years, how she got so strong without training, what counts as a crusher in today’s climbing world and especially for women’s climbing, and plateaus on the moonboard. She also talks about her unique perspective on climbing-work balance, that perhaps more of us should consider utilizing! Love to hear about hard climbing, but want to hear from someone who’s a little more relatable than the pros? The Undercover Crushers series is here for your inspiration! Dive in!


A Tribute to Michael Gardner

Michael Gardner astride the Infinite Spur on Sultana (Mt. Foraker) during a climb-and-ski adventure. Photo by Sam Hennessey. Originally published in AAJ 2022.

Michael Gardner 

1991-2024

We are deeply saddened by the death of Michael Gardner: a great alpinist and a vibrant life. 

Michael was on an expedition funded by the AAC’s Cutting Edge Grant, attempting the unclimbed north face of Jannu East in Nepal with his long time climbing partner Sam Hennessey, when he fell to his death on October 7th, 2024. We are grateful that Hennessey is safe after the incident. 

There have been so many tributes to Mike in the last few days that attest to his incredible empathy, enthusiasm, dedication to the craft of climbing, pure motivations and lack of ego. Indeed, his quiet pursuit of the mountains on his own terms means his legacy is not flashy, but found in traces and in the background—he was climbing and skiing for the sake of the craft, not for recognition. Yet he was repeatedly the preferred partner for Cutting Edge Grant recipients like Hennessey, and his name appeared again and again in the American Alpine Journal over the last few years, for his new routes, fast ascents of iconic faces, and creative ski alpinism.

Rather than listing his great ascents here, and reducing him to a list of accomplishments, we encourage all who knew him, all who were inspired by him, to dive into the AAJ stories that feature him—as a way to walk, for a brief moment, alongside him in the memories of some of his greatest life experiences in the mountains. The mountains called him back again and again, whether it was to put up a new rock route on Mt. Owens, Renny Take the Wheel (1,500’, 8 pitches, IV 5.11), or envision the first ascent of Hot Cars and Fast Women (850m, M6+) with Hennessey on Denali’s Ridge of No Return. Mike and Sam were also simply fast. Their second ascent of Light Traveler (M7) on the southwest face of Denali in 2018 was not only the fastest for this route at the time, but for any of the four routes generally considered to be most difficult on Denali’s south and southwest faces: the Denali Diamond, McCartney-Roberts, Light Traveler, and Slovak Direct. In 2022, they upped the ante when they joined up with Rob Smith to climb the Slovak Direct in 17 hours and 10 min. In next year’s 2025 AAJ, his more recent mountain adventures will live on, testifying to the kind of life he shaped for himself, including a new route on Mt. Hunter, a massive ski link-up in the Tetons, and a new route on the Grand Teton. 

Reading through these stories, you can see the creativity and quiet passion he brought to his climbing, and to his life. 

Describing his conflicted relationship to the mountains in an article for Alpinist in 2022, Mike writes how, when he climbs: “An indescribable awareness of place and peace takes hold. On the other hand, there are consequences to devoting yourself to the mountains. I know them intimately, and yet year after year, death after death, I continue to climb.”

We can’t know if Mike would have thought it was all worth it. All we can do is honor the incredible void his death has left behind. 

Our thoughts are with Michael’s family and climbing partners. 


Learning The Power of Low Expectations On A Rumney Classic

Route Profile: Stoned Temple Pilot, 5.12a, Rumney

By: Ryan DeLena

Stoned Temple Pilot (5.12a) at Prudential, Rumney, NH. Photo by AAC Lodging Director Allyssa Burnley.

It’s hard to find a route quite like Stoned Temple Pilot: a steep, beta intensive masterpiece hidden in Rumney’s Northwest Crags. And appropriately, it's hard to get people to want to walk to The Prudential crag. Most climbers flock to more classic crags, such as Main Cliff, Waimea, and Bonsai. However, if you can talk someone into trekking out there, you’ll most certainly secure a projecting buddy once they experience the epic kneebars, throws, and intricate boulder problems. 

I’ve always described the Rumney scene as a culture of beta. Often regarded as one of the most cryptic major sport climbing destinations, Rumney routes are rarely sent on raw power alone. Most climbs can feel a full grade harder until you know the trick to climbing them. The result is a really supportive projecting culture. Once you send, you become part of the crew that can now pass the beta down to the next inquiring aspirant. 

Before Stoned Temple Pilot, I was more of a trad climber. I was accustomed to the practice of climbing lots of different routes, and very slowly pushing my limit. Conversely, most people I met hanging out at Rumney had longer term projects they came back to every session. 

I first climbed Stoned Temple Pilot while project shopping for my first 5.12a. I was getting to that phase many of us enter in climbing, when the 5.11s start going faster than before and your friends encourage you to get on 12s. I’ve never considered myself much of a grade chaser, but 12a always represented a blockade for me. For years the idea that my body would be capable of that level of climbing seemed outlandish. Finally in spring of 2022, I decided it was time to find a route that inspired me and throw myself at it like never before. I tried a few different classic 12as, but Stoned was the one that captured my imagination.

Oh My Finish (5.11b/c) at Orange Crush, Rumney, NH. Photo by AAC Lodging Director Allyssa Burnley.

The route begins with a jug haul through spongy rock, culminating with a double knee bar rest at a monumental hueco. Next comes a bulge, nothing too bouldery, but it saps your energy before the crux. A bad crimp allows you to set your feet and throw. If not for a common tick mark, you might assume you need to make a desperate upward stab into the fat undercling, which is certainly big enough to distract you from the key crimp right above the lip. One more committing move gets you to a sneaky corner rest. If not for meeting a local who showed me this rest, I might’ve abandoned this project a long time ago. As you exit the corner, all the holds seem to face weird directions, but some knee bar wizardry lets you cross to a jug otherwise just out of reach. Made it this far? It’s in the bag. 

As I started projecting Stoned Temple Pilot, I didn’t feel like things were going swimmingly whatsoever. On my first burn I did all the moves, then proceeded to never be able to do the top sequence again. I expected to climb the route better with each attempt, but each burn slowly whittled away my faith.

Optimism is something I struggled with a lot my whole life, and climbing forced that reality closer and closer to the surface. Finally I had to acknowledge that somewhere deep down, no matter what I accomplished, I still didn’t believe in myself. Coming back to this route multiple times, somehow getting worse with each burn, was easy evidence to justify the pessimism in my brain. 

Two things haunted me. The first: every time I tried to clip from the undercling, I struggled to reach it and pumped out. The second: ever since my project shopping burn, I had not been to the top of the route. Each time I reached the top crux, even after resting in the corner, I failed to recollect how I had climbed it on my first attempt. I would try different sequences that left me hanging on the permadraw over and over, until finally opting to lower. Good links aside, how was I supposed to bring optimism to this route, if I couldn’t clip the crux draw, or even top it out?

One day in June 2022, I discovered the complex relationship between embracing optimism, and letting go of expectations. My friend Mike, and Allyssa, who I had met that morning, walked up to Prudential Wall with me. I had very low expectations. I already had aided my way through a bouldery 11c and my forearms felt fried. The previous day I tried Stoned multiple times and got shut down at the clip in the big undercling. I’d been trying to reach above my head to fear-clip it, ultimately pumping out. 

Swedish Girls (5.10d) at Prudential Rumney, NH. Photo by AAC Lodging Director Allyssa Burnley.

As I pulled onto the wall this time, I already planned on falling. I looked down at Mike after the first clip and said, “Man, I wish I was climbing something that used different muscles than yesterday.” Despite the bad attitude, I continued climbing. I entered the double kneebar, this time getting my right hip into the pod and settling into the fetal position, then closing my eyes. This brought a deep sense of calm. I launched into the boulder problem, and stood up into the undercling. Knowing this was where I always fall, I thought to myself, “If I’m going to fall anyway, I should just go for the jug and take the mega whip.” To my surprise, I not only stuck the throw, but had a lot of energy left in my forearms to continue. By simply committing and waist clipping, rather than trying hopelessly to clip above my head from a power-sapping undercling, I completely changed the nature of the route.

I pulled up into the corner rest and stayed there for a long while. I still had not been to the top of the route since the first time I got on it. 

I tried to relax every muscle in my body other than my left leg, which held me firmly in the corner. Now with some skin in the game, and determined to send, I launched into the top crux. Completely tunneling into the unknown, I tried something I had not done before. I switched my right knee bar on a sharp horn with a left knee bar, getting my right foot on a seemingly unlikely chip, which gave me just enough height to cross to the big hold. 

My heart beating fast now, I clipped the last bolt, and pulled through the final moves audibly in disbelief.. I screamed with joy. Through the sneaky art of low expectations, I had proved my potential to myself. Climbing some elusive grade wasn’t about having Herculean strength, it was about mastering the sequence. 

I’ve since sent a number of 5.12s, and all of them started like Stoned Temple Pilot. They felt so unbelievably impossible, until one day they didn’t. I’d come back fresh, with refined beta, and flow through the sequence like butter, because knowing the way is far more efficient than trying to muscle through.

Black Mamba (5.11c) at Orange Crush, Rumney, NH. Photo by AAC Lodging Director Allyssa Burnley. 

Though my brain is awfully resistant to change, going through this projecting process a number of times now has helped me embrace optimism more in my life. It reminds me that the whole idea of optimism is believing what’s coming will be better, despite not having the evidence to prove it. If you have proof, you don’t actually need to believe in anything. The projecting process reminds me that things can still go my way, even if it feels like that’s impossible, and the act of believing is often the first step in changing impossible to possible.


Inspired to project a Rumney classic? Book your stay at the Rumney Rattlesnake campground today!

A Long and Winding Road: An Update on the EXPLORE Recreation Package

PC: Andrew Burr

By: Byron Harvison, AAC General Counsel and Advocacy Director

First ascents are usually full of surprises. That’s why we love doing them. It takes every bit of your skill and experience to navigate all the known and unknown challenges the route throws at you. Like a FA, the first-of-its-kind EXPLORE Act Recreation Package is presenting challenges and proving there is more work to put in.  

You may recall that the EXPLORE Act (Expanding Public Lands Outdoor Recreation Experiences) was unanimously passed in the House last April after being introduced by Representative Westerman (R-AR) and Representative Grijalva (D-AZ).  It contains several pieces of legislation deeply impacting recreation. The Simplifying Outdoor Access for Recreation Act (SOAR) has been a priority for the AAC and partner organizations such as the AMGA, Outdoor Alliance, and The Mountaineers for 10 years. It updates and streamlines recreational permitting for guides, making the outdoors more accessible.

EXPLORE also includes the Protecting America’s Rock Climbing Act (PARC), which the AAC and Access Fund have collaborated on extensively, that will help safeguard the historic use and maintenance of fixed anchors in Wilderness, and reaffirms the appropriateness of climbing on public lands.

Other elements in the package include the BOLT Act, making FICOR (the Federal Interagency Council on Outdoor Recreation) permanent as well as the Outdoor Recreation Legacy Partnership, Recreation Not Red Tape, and several pieces of legislation impacting outdoor infrastructure.  

During our most recent visit to DC in September, in conjunction with the celebration of Outdoor Alliance’s 10th Anniversary, we teamed up to urge Senators to find floor time to pass EXPLORE as a stand alone bill or to attach it to must-pass legislation such as the National Defense Authorization Act (NDAA). Unfortunately, EXPLORE did not make it into the NDAA’s Manager’s Amendment, which exhausts that route for passage.  

Congress has been preoccupied with funding the federal government, resulting in a (now typical) Continuing Resolution to fund the government at the current levels until December 20th. Given the dynamics of it being an election year and certain change of leadership, and the impacts of a lame duck session, it is quite difficult to predict exactly how EXPLORE may be able to pass this Congress.

One potential scenario is that it may be grouped in with a larger year-end lands package, which can be a good thing, but could be complicated given the varied political motivations of legislators post-election. With the strong bipartisan and bicameral support of EXPLORE we are hopeful that we can find a path to secure the passage of the recreation package this Congress regardless of the outcome of the election. 

One thing is for sure, there are no guarantees. Just as the summit is never guaranteed in climbing, no piece of legislation is a sure thing. We will continue to push forward and put the work in, one foot after another, and see it through.


Commit To Vote. Learn More Below.



CONNECT: Undercover Crusher Nathan Hadley

On this edition of the Undercover Crusher series, we have Rab athlete Nathan Hadley on the pod. We talk about what counts as “undercover,” and the reality of straddling the world of full-time work while being “pro.” We discuss the pressure to be obsessed with Yosemite, and maybe figuring out that performing in Yosemite is not the only place to make a name for yourself…as well as bolting and development ethics in Washington, sending the Canadian Trilogy, and the downsides and upsides of being a route setter. 

Jump into this episode to hear all this and more from crusher Nathan Hadley! 



CONNECT: Summiting Denali, Living the Dream

In this episode, we had Live Your Dream grant recipient John Thompson on the pod to tell us all about his trip to Denali! Our Live Your Dream grant is our most popular grant, and it’s powered by The North Face.

John’s LYD story is about feeling a sense of urgency–how now is the time to explore and pursue big adventures. A strong sense of carpe diem. After nearly a decade away from Denali, John returned, only to get caught up in helping with a rescue, and not getting to pursue his goal route because of weather conditions. We sat down with John to hear about his grant experience, the rescue he helped with, his journey falling away from climbing and coming back to it, how guiding shaped his climbing, and why it meant so much to be standing on the top of Denali once again.


The Line — Mark Westman’s Long Quest to Climb Mt. Russell

Mark Westman has been climbing in the Alaska Range for nearly three decades and was a Denali Mountaineering Ranger for ten years. He has attempted Mt. Russell, on the southwest edge of Denali National Park, three times by three different routes over 27 years. The third time was the charm, as he and Sam Hennessey raced to the summit in a single day in late April. It was only the ninth ascent of the 11,670-foot peak, and Westman believes the line they followed may be the most reliable way to reach this elusive summit.

Sam Hennessey scales the rime wall just below the summit of Mt. Russell. Photo by Mark Westman.

Mt. Russell, East Face and South Ridge

At 9:45 a.m. on April 27, Paul Roderick dropped Sam Hennessey and me on the upper Dall Glacier, directly beneath the nearly 6,000-foot-tall east face of Mt. Russell—our objective.  

We had in mind a rapid round trip. After quickly setting up a tent to stash food and bivouac gear, we departed half an hour after landing with light packs. We started up the left side of the east face, following the same line that Sam had climbed the previous spring with Courtney Kitchen and Lisa Van Sciver. On that attempt, they carried skis with the hope of descending off the summit. After 3,600 feet of snow and ice slopes, they reached the south ridge, which they found scoured down to unskiable hard ice. They retreated and skied back down to the Dall Glacier.

The route Sam and I followed on the east face steepened to 50° at about mid-height, and the snow we had been booting up gave way to sustained hard névé and occasional ice—much icier conditions than what Sam and partners had found at the same spot in 2023. We continued to a flat area at 9,600 feet, near the base of the upper south ridge of the mountain. Until this point, we had climbed unroped for most of the way.

The line of the Hennessey-Westman Route on the east face and south ridge of Mt. Russell. The first ascent (1962) reached the south ridge from the far side of the mountain. The direct south face and south ridge (2017) is at left, and the original east face (1989) and northeast ridge (1972) are on the right. Photo by Mark Westman.

The upper south ridge was the route followed by Mt. Russell’s first ascent team in 1962 (see AAJ 1963). They accessed it from the west side via an airplane landing on the Chedotlothna Glacier (which is no longer feasible because of glacial recession). This section of ridge was repeated by Dana Drummond and Freddie Wilkinson in 2017 after they pioneered a new route up the direct south face and south ridge of Russell (5,000’, AK Grade 4; see AAJ 2018).

A moderate section of the upper south ridge of Russell. Photo by Mark Westman.

From where we intersected the ridge, there were several tricky sections of traversing across 50° ice and knife-edge ridges. We used the rope for these parts, then continued unroped for several hundred feet, easily avoiding numerous crevasses. Just beneath the summit, we reached a near-vertical wall of rime ice, surrounded by fantastically rimed gargoyle formations that spoke to the ferocious winds that typically buffet this mountain. We belayed the short bulge of rime and minutes later became only the ninth team to reach the summit, just seven hours after leaving our landing site.

Nomenclature

The peak known today as Mt. Russell appears to have been called Todzolno' Hwdighelo' (literally “river mountain”) in the Upper Kuskokwim Athabascan language. This is according to a National Park Service–sponsored study of Indigenous place names written by James Kari, professor emeritus of linguistics at the University of Alaska. Today’s Mt. Russell was named for geologist Israel Cook Russell—one of founding members of the AAC. The California 14er Mt. Russell is also named for him.

There wasn’t a cloud in any direction and not a breath of wind. I had made storm-plagued attempts on Russell in two different decades, and there were many other seasons where I had partners and dates lined up but never left Talkeetna due to poor weather. It was truly gratifying to reach the top of this elusive summit.

Sam and I descended to the landing site in just four hours, making for an 11-hour round-trip climb and the mountain’s first one-day ascent. Paul picked us up the following morning.

While all of the terrain we followed had been climbed previously, the east face and south ridge had not been linked as a singular summit route. Having attempted the now very broken northeast ridge in 1997, and having climbed most of the Wilkinson-Drummond route in 2019, I feel confident the Hennessey-Westman (5,700’, UIAA V with 50° ice and 80°+ rime ice) is the fastest and most straightforward way to the summit of Mt. Russell. There is a perfectly flat bivouac site on the south ridge at approximately 9,600 feet, albeit very exposed to the wind. While the technical difficulties are modest, this route is sustained, serious, and committing.


Alaska Range Top Five

We asked Mark Westman, one of the most experienced modern climbers in Alaska, to name his five most memorable or personally important Alaska Range climbs. In chronological order, they are:

Mark Westman on the Infinite Spur of Sultana (Mt. Foraker) in 2001. Photo by Joe Puryear.

  • South Buttress (1954 Route), Denali, with the late Joe Puryear, April-May 1996. Significant for being my first time to reach the top of Denali, but also for being a month-long true wilderness adventure in total isolation on the mountain. It cemented my partnership with Joe for much bigger things that lay ahead.

  • Infinite Spur, Mt. Foraker, with Joe Puryear, June 2001. One of the most committing routes I ever did, and also the finest achievement I had with Joe after a decade-long climbing partnership that began when we were neophytes.

  • South Ridge of Mt. Hunter, with Forrest Murphy, June 2003. [It] had every sort of challenge one could expect in Alaska Range alpine climbing: difficult mixed and ice climbing, a serious icefall, a traverse of a high and massive mountain, extreme commitment, and, most of all, one of Alaska's most legendary corniced and knife-edged ridges (The Happy Cowboy), one of the most engaging mental exercises I have ever faced. 

  • The Warrior’s Way, Mt. Grosvenor, with Eamonn Walsh, April 2006. How often does one get to make the very first ascent of a big face (the direct east face) on the west side of the Ruth Gorge? This was the last of three new routes we did on the peak (which were also the second, third, and fourth overall ascents), and it takes a king line straight up the middle of the face. Best of all, although run-out in places, it is relatively safe, and although technical, it goes at an approachable grade and has been repeated twice. 

  • Denali Diamond, Denali, with Colin Haley, June 2007. This was a huge step up technically and stylistically for me, marking a multi-year transition from slower and heavier climbing to contemporary lighter and faster alpine-style techniques, with much credit to Colin for his youthful embrace of these methods. Managing this 8,000-foot-plus face in just 45 hours was a step well beyond what I would have imagined possible for myself many years earlier, and it was one of those rare climbs where literally everything goes as perfectly as you planned it back home in the living room.


A Place Among Giants

Lisa Roderick, Westman’s wife (and pilot Paul Roderick’s sister), was the base camp manager on the Kahiltna Glacier for more than two decades. (She attempted Russell with Westman and the late Joe Puryear in the late ’90s.) In early November, her memoir of nearly four years of cumulative time spent on the glacier, shepherding planes and climbers in and out of Denali base camp, will be published: A Place Among Giants: 22 Seasons at Denali Basecamp.


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].

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The Prescription—September

The following report describes an accident at Seneca Rocks, West Virginia. This is a longer form version of a report than what will be published in the 2024 Accidents in North American Climbing. If you are a Partner Level Member or above, Accidents will arrive in your mailbox any day.

The book is filled with examples of both good and bad luck—unfortunately, mainly the latter. This tragic accident occurred on the third pitch of a popular route at Seneca Rocks when a climber with three years of experience took an intentional leader fall. The rope was not running over an edge, his gear was in perfect working order, and his belayer made no mistakes. He expected a safe, albeit long fall. Instead, the rope was severed and he tragically fell to his death.

The third and final pitch of Simple J Malarkey climbs through the overlaps and triangular roofs seen here rising above and slightly left of the prominent cave. This pitch was the scene of a fatal rope-cutting accident (marked with a yellow X) in August 2023. Krzysztof Gorny


Fall On Rock | Carabiner Cut Rope

Monongahela National Forest, Seneca Rocks

Arthur Kearns, local guide and owner of The Gendarme Climbing Shop and the Seneca Rocks Climbing School, submitted the following report:

On August 5, a party of two started up Simple J Malarkey (3 pitches, 5.7). The top of the second pitch ends in a corner alcove with overhanging rock above. At the start of the third pitch, the leader, Danny Gerhart (24), placed a 0.75 Camalot just above the belay, before attempting to climb up and left. Gerhart encountered a wasp’s nest and stepped back down to the belay. He then stepped down and to the right on the ramp that ends the second pitch. This was the sequence most used by other climbers.

Gerhart was now about five feet away from the belay. He placed a second 0.75 Camalot before moving up and left to a second alcove, about eight feet above and to the right of the belay. Here, Gerhart placed a number 3 Camalot in a shallow, slightly flaring pocket. (This piece was found with both extended and non-extended alpine draws attached.) At this point, he removed the second 0.75 Camalot to prevent excessive rope drag. 

Gerhart attempted to move up and right from this stance, which is the most used sequence. This crux section requires the leader to move over a roof on a four-foot-high plaque of rock. Though protection is available, the leader cannot see it until they have committed to the crux, and even then, the placement is behind the climber and at waist level. The handholds here could be described as less than inspiring, as water drains onto them from above, adding a polished feel to the rock. Having found no gear, Gerhart stepped back down to the previous stance and discussed options with the belayer. By then, the sun was peeking over the top, making route-finding more difficult. The climbing team discussed options before Gerhart decided to move up and left.

Climbing above the last piece and not finding additional protection, Gerhart called down to the belayer, informing them that he was going to take a deliberate fall (acknowledging it was “going to be a big one”). He then let go and fell around 12 feet before loading the rope. The belayer reported having enough time to take in two to four feet of slack before hearing a very loud “gunshot” as the rope exploded. The belayer never felt the falling climber load the belay, and Gerhart fell approximately 130 feet to the ground. 

While numerous climbing parties immediately responded to give aid, the fallen climber passed at the scene. 

Evidence points to the rope being cut by the rope-end carabiner (a Petzl Spirit) on the extended alpine draw attached to the number 3 Camalot. The carabiner remained attached to the fully extended alpine draw and was situated on a slabby portion of rock just below the Camalot. Fuzzy remains from the rope sheath were found inside the carabiner. No rope sheath material was found on any nearby rock edges or the slabby rock face. Photos from the accident scene show about seven feet of rope extending from the tie-in on Gerhart’s harness. Three to four feet of core was exposed where the rope cut. The individual core bundles were all severed at the same length; this indicates a definitive “cut” versus extended shredding over an edge.

 ANALYSIS

Kearns wrote the following analysis:

How the carabiner cut the rope is difficult to visualize. But here is my attempt to explain it. The rope leaving the belayer moved up through the first piece and past the slightly overhanging rock above. The overhang included a six-to-eight-inch-wide V-slot that likely inhibited the belay strand from moving laterally to the right. At the time of impact, the belay strand of the rope would have been lying on the slabby rock face above before entering the backside of the carabiner, which in turn was clipped to the extended draw on the number 3 Camalot. In the same way the load strand in an ATC Guide locks down on the belay strand, so did the leader’s end of the rope. It wrapped around the carabiner, crushing down on the belay strand and the rock below it, and thus focusing the entire load of the fall onto the small section of rope between Gerhart and the cam.

 

In this highly unusual accident, the carabiner on the rope-bearing end of an alpine quickdraw appears to have acted like a belay device configured in guide mode. The load-bearing/climber strand (on top) trapped the belay strand (on bottom, under the carabiner) between the carabiner and the rock. The rope was severed. No rock edge was involved in cutting the rope, and no rope sheath material was observed on the rock. Drawing by Foster Denney

 

In essence, Gerhart took a factor-two fall onto the carabiner. In fact, he may have achieved something greater than a factor-two fall, as the pinched rope effectively reduced the rope in the system to around six feet. I’ll leave it up to someone more qualified to calculate the force load of a climber falling an estimated 9 to 11 feet on around six feet of rope and all that energy being applied at the bend at the carabiner and onto the belay strand. Needless to say, it was enough to instantly sever the rope. 

One tragic fact: It’s quite possible that Gerhart’s extended sling may have perfectly positioned the carabiner at the time the piece was placed, but then tragically the carabiner shifted into the fateful position. Had the carabiner been just two inches to the left or right, it would no longer have been lying on rock but hanging in free space. Would extending the sling on the first piece Gerhart placed have changed the location of the carabiner in question at the time of impact? This is unknown, as the first piece was ultimately removed by the belayer before they rappelled to the ground, so we were not able to replicate exactly how the rope was running. 

Apart from the fact that Gerhart was slightly off route, this was, in my opinion, a freak accident. Two inches of movement in the carabiner could have made the difference between life and death.

(Source: Arthur Kearns, guide, Seneca Rocks Climbing School.)


Editor’s Note from Pete Takeda:

After hearing of this incident, I emailed Kearns—a very experienced local guide. Kearns climbed Simple J Malarkey the day after the accident with a fellow guide. Kearns came to the conclusion above, based on the pair’s observations, discussions with the belayer, and their intimate knowledge of the area and the route.

I also extensively interviewed and eventually went climbing with the belayer. I was assured that the rope was in good condition and had not been exposed to any compromising chemicals.

On @hownot2, Ryan Jenks posted his assessment and wrote, "After testing… it (the rope) seems normal and broke at an acceptable force."

The belayer also sent the intact section of rope to Ryan Jenks of HowNot2 for break testing. Jenks posted his assessment on Instagram. He felt that, “It’s unclear what happened. Be as safe as you can climbing but there are inherent risks. We lost one of the good ones..”

Finally, the belayer wrote to ANAC: “I think about the HowNot2 video where Ryan tested the rope (9.4mm) and how he showed an example of a (different) #3 Camalot that took a lot (an unknown amount) of force and was mangled. The number 3 Danny fell on looked in perfect condition after the accident. I don’t know how much force it would take to deform it (BD website says number 3’s have a 12kN strength), but Ryan implied in the video that if the rope broke due to force alone (in the video it broke at 10.86/11.33 kN) the cam should have deformed. I just think the rope MUST have cut or at least abraded somewhere right around the carabiner. Also, in that video the broken ends looked different than they did from the accident. In the video the core wasn’t sticking out or hiding way back in the sheath. After the accident my end of the rope had a few inches of empty sheath extending beyond the core.”

Note from Rob Chisnall, the ANAC Canada Editor:

Rob Chisnall is a climbing safety consultant and member of the American Academy of Forensic Sciences. He testifies in civil cases involving climbing accidents and also in criminal cases involving homicide, suicide, auto-erotic fatality, and other misadventures involving knots and ligatures. 

Chisnall reviewed Kearn’s report and wrote to ANAC that “the explanation is sound.” He further noted that:

  1. Ropes have been getting thinner, and lightweight carabiners no longer bear a round cross section. Stress-strain analyses have allowed manufacturers to eliminate unnecessary metal from carabiners, giving many carabiners a T or H cross section (sharper edges).  

  2. Sport ropes are now typically less than 10 mm in diameter, the one in question being 9.4 mm. So, whatever pinch point was created, the same force would have been applied to a much smaller surface area compared to decades ago. The carabiner might have momentarily resembled something akin to a blunt cutting edge. And maybe the rock surface at the pinch/cutting point was overtly convex, thus concentrating the force even more.

  3. I've observed people having problems when lowering off slabs, then onto vertical walls or past overhangs. In this case, the angle between the parts of the rope exiting the carabiner might have been reduced to zero, creating a pinch point.

  4. Judging from the description of the damaged rope, it appears the sheath cut first and shifted position, exposing the core strands, which then cut cleanly in one place—they probably instantaneously flattened out.

  5. Ropes [that] cut via lateral movement over a sharp edge do not go “BANG.” The belayer clearly recalled a very loud “gunshot” noise as the rope exploded. In less dramatic breakages, a rope pulled straight to failure usually makes a snapping sound, like an elastic band.


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American Mountaineering Center Update

Photo by AAC member Jon Glassberg

Since 1993, the AAC's office, library, and museum have been located in the American Mountaineering Center (AMC) in Golden, CO. Over the past few years, the AAC and Colorado Mountain Club have evaluated the AMC's future, including the option to sell the building that we have owned, managed, and occupied together. We are pleased to share that we sold the AMC building today, September 10, 2024. The AAC will continue to occupy the building while we work to envision a future location that will help us deliver on our mission and continue to serve our members and donors.

The AAC library and museum will close on September 20, 2024, to allow for cataloging and inventorying.

During this transitionary period, the library will cease new scanning requests, new research requests, and book sales. We remain committed to an inspiring future for the AAC library and mountaineering museum that honors the contributions of past donors and members and modernizes these critical resources for future generations.

We are proud to have partnered with the Colorado Mountain Club to steward this historic building in the heart of Golden for the past 30 years, and we firmly believe the new owner will continue to care for this important building in its next phase.

Lastly, we are grateful to the board of directors, led by Glenn Porzak, who dreamed of bringing the organization to Golden decades ago, and the members and donors who helped make that dream a reality. Your contributions, vision, and foresight brought us to this moment, which presents exciting future possibilities for the Club.

The Line: Global Ambition

Read how a professor of mechanical engineering at Seattle University solved a geographic mystery in Uzbekistan and made the first known ascent of that nation’s highest peak. (This same peak was also No. 141 in the professor’s quest to summit the high point of every country in the world.) Plus: attempting Everest, climbing Kangchenjunga, completing the “Seven ’Stans,” and becoming a Snow Leopard—just a few recent accomplishments in the very busy life of Eric Gilbertson.

Nearing the summit of Alpomish. Photo: Eric Gilbertson.

The following is adapted from a report by Eric Gilbertson for AAJ 2024.

Alpomish:
The First Ascent

Until recently, it was widely accepted that a broad, rocky 4,643-meter mountain in the Gissar Range, on the Uzbekistan-Tajikistan border, was the highest peak in Uzbekistan. This was based on the 1981 Soviet topographic map, the most accurate and recent map of the area. (In recent times, some online sources have called this mountain Khazret Sultan, but this is incorrect.) While researching Peak 4,643, possibly first climbed by Soviets in the 1960s, I realized that a border peak about six kilometers to the south, known as Alpomish, was potentially taller than Peak 4,643. Andreas Frydensberg (Denmark) and I laid plans to carry a differential GPS unit and sight levels to both summits and determine which was higher.

Acclimatized from ascents of Pik Korzhenevsky (7,105m) and Pik Ismoil Somoni (Pik Communism, 7,495m) in Tajikistan, Andreas and I headed to the Uzbekistan border region, and on August 21 we started our approach from Sarytag village. We hiked southwest alongside the Dikondara River, cached a few days of food, and continued south over several glaciated 4,000-meter passes and many talus fields, around 23 kilometers in total. Our base camp was by an unnamed glacier below the steep east face of Alpomish.

The first known ascent of Alpomish, by the east face (5.8). The rock wall is about 400 meters high. Photo: Eric Gilbertson.

The four-spired peak loomed above camp with 400-meter granite faces on each spire. The southernmost spire looked to be the tallest, which I verified with sight levels.

On August 23, we hiked to the east face and scrambled up a big gully on scree until it was blocked by a huge chockstone. I led a rock face then traversed left delicately to reach the top of the chockstone. Above a waterfall in the gully, ice continued all the way up to the notch, and since we’d left our ice gear below, we climbed the rock wall and ridge crest to the left. Once on the gendarmed summit ridge, a final knife-edge brought us to the top.

Using the sight levels, I first verified that all the nearby spires of the peak were shorter—we were definitely on the highest point of Alpomish. I set up the differential GPS, but it had trouble acquiring satellites. So I pointed my sight levels toward Peak 4,643, and with each level measured 10min–20min angular declination looking down at the distant summit. Clearly it was lower. There were no anchors, cairns, or any sign of human passage anywhere on Alpomish, so it seemed very likely we had made the first ascent. Our measurements showed that Alpomish is 25 meters (+/-8 meters) higher than Peak 4,643, giving an elevation for Alpomish of around 4,668 meters.

Gilbertson and Frydensberg on the summit of Alpomish. Photo: Eric Gilbertson.

After rappelling and downclimbing, we staggered back into camp shortly before midnight. Our route was the Upper East Face (300m, 5.8).

To be absolutely certain about the relative elevations, I wanted to take measurements from the top of Peak 4,643, looking back to Alpomish, so the next day we retraced our route over the glaciated passes, picked up our food cache, and hiked to the base of Peak 4,643.

On August 25, we climbed the northeast ridge, with long stretches of 4th-class scrambling on a knife-edge and two pitches of 5.7. On the summit, I used sight levels to measure the angular inclination up to Alpomish. All six measurements showed that Alpomish is higher than Peak 4,643, making it the highest point in Uzbekistan.


Andreas Frydensberg on top of Noshaq, the 7,492-meter high point of Afghanistan, in July 2019, two years before the Taliban takeover of the country. Photo: Eric Gilbertson.

The Seven ’Stans

Breaking trail up massive Pobeda, the highest summit in Kyrgyzstan. Photo: Eric Gilbertson.

Eric Gilbertson and Andreas Frydensberg’s climb of Alpomish was part of a four-year effort to reach the highest point of all seven nations whose names end with “stan.” Most of these were very challenging mountaineering objectives.

In 2019, they climbed Noshaq (7,492m, Afghanistan). In 2021, they tagged the summits of Khan Tengri (7,010m, Kazakhstan) and Pobeda (7,439m, Kyrgyzstan). In 2022, it was K2 (8,611m, Pakistan), without supplementary oxygen. And in 2023 they climbed Ismoil Somoni (7,495m, Tajikistan), Ayrybaba (3,139m, Turkmenistan), and Alpomish (ca 4,668m, Uzbekistan). Gilbertson reported that Pobeda (via the Abalakov Route) was technically and physically the most difficult of the seven (technical climbing at high altitude with no fixed ropes, deep snow, serious objective and frostbite danger) and that Noshaq was logistically the toughest (landmines and kidnapping hazards).

EVEREST & KANGCHENJUNGA

As if climbing two 7,000-meter peaks in Asia last summer weren’t enough, Eric Gilbertson also made a strong attempt on Everest in May (reaching 8,500 meters without supplementary oxygen or personal Sherpa support). He then flew to Kangchenjunga and summited the world’s third-highest peak, thus ticking the high point of India on his list.

Gilbertson, along with his twin brother, Matthew, ultimately hope to reach the high point of every country in the world, a project that started in 2010. As of this month, Eric has climbed 143 of 196 the world’s high points. See the Country Highpoints website for his extensive trip reports.

Having climbed the five 7,000-meter peaks of the former Soviet Union, Gilbertson and Frydensberg applied to be named Snow Leopards, a great honor of Russian mountaineering. In November 2023, Gilbertson became the third American Snow Leopard (after William Garner and Randy Starrett in 1985) and Frydensberg the first Dane, but not without proving their case: The authorities argued that they had climbed the wrong summit of Pobeda. Gilbertson embarked on another geographic investigation and soon settled the matter. The results are documented in The True Summit Location of Peak Pobeda.


How Does He Do It?

How does a 38-year-old assistant professor have the free time and spare cash to complete so many international expeditions? Gilbertson explains:

”I'm a teaching professor at Seattle University. This means I get about three months off every summer for mountaineering, and also winter and spring breaks between quarters. Sometimes I can get permission to overload my teaching schedule in a few quarters and take another quarter off. This was important for a peak like Kangchenjunga, which needs to be climbed in spring.“ As graduate students, Gilbertson and his brother, Matthew, were invited to international engineering conferences, which they paired with climbs.

“I try to be as frugal as possible,” he said. “Most of the European country high points I climbed as part of long-distance bicycle tours, camping in the woods every night, so transportation and lodging were basically free. I generally don’t pay for guides unless required by law. I sign up for airline credit cards to get free flights.” Gilbertson and his partners also maximize their efficiency and success rate during expeditions by paying for custom, satellite-delivered weather forecasts from Denver meteorologist Chris Tomer.

For Everest, Gilbertson hired the relatively inexpensive Seven Summit Treks (SST) for logistics and base camp services, then he climbed on his own above BC and did not pay for oxygen service (the same way he climbed K2 in 2022). As he was shopping for a guiding service, he negotiated for a multi-summit and multi-climber discount.

As events turned out, SST required Gilbertson to hire a Sherpa and use oxygen for his rapid Kangchenjunga ascent after Everest. “It would cost another $11K…and I could just barely afford that if I zeroed out my bank account,” Gilbertson wrote in his trip report. “That would be cheaper than losing all the money I’d already invested and then paying more a future year to come back. So I reluctantly agreed.”


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 Prescription—August

A Parks Canada rescue helicopter responds to an accident on Mt. Louis on August 20, 2023 (Mt. Edith in the background). Mt. Louis is an iconic limestone tower and home to several popular multi-pitch rock climbs. Though some are moderate in grade, they all offer a Canadian Rockies–style adventure. Photo: Parks Canada

The following report describes an accident in the Canadian Rockies that will be published in the upcoming 2024 Accidents in North American Climbing. While reviewing last year’s accidents, a particularly improbable incident stood out. Almost exactly a year ago, a climber fell, unroped, from the fourth-pitch belay anchor of a 15-pitch climb. After tumbling 35 meters, he came to rest on a ledge three pitches above the ground, having suffered only minor injuries. One might attribute this incident to a form of benign intervention, a guidance bordering on the divine. Or it might have been simple good luck. Read on.


Fall From Anchor | Tether Clipped Incorrectly

Alberta, Banff National Park, Mt. Louis

At 5 a.m. on August 20, 2023, Alistair Hall (34) and I, Adam Laycock (33) started our approach to attempt the Gmoser Route of Mt. Louis. While this 15-pitch 5.9 has bolted anchors, it is also an old-school trad route that would push our limits for climbing on gear. Alistair was confident in his ability to lead the crux pitch. Although it was our first time on this mountain, we were both locals and familiar with the chossy nature of the Canadian Rockies. We did plenty of research and felt confident in the route and conditions that day.

Our ascent was slower than we had anticipated. By the time we reached the top of pitch six, it was midafternoon, and with ten pitches remaining, we decided to back off the climb. The belay stations were bolted, so we chose to descend the same way we had ascended. Rappelling pitches six and five was uneventful.

After I finished rappelling pitch five, I secured myself to the anchor with my personal anchor system (PAS). My PAS was a 120mm nylon sling, girth-hitched through my belay loop, with two knots for length adjustment. The belay stance was narrow, prompting me to shorten my PAS by moving my locking carabiner to a knotted loop closer to my belay loop. I then clipped my carabiner into one of the rappel rings, locked it, weighted my PAS to test it, and took myself off rappel. I spent a few minutes preparing the rope for the next rappel, threading it through the rappel rings, coiling it, and adding a knot for safety.

Then I fell. I was not connected to the wall or rope, and there were four pitches of high-angle terrain beneath me. I tumbled for 35 meters, the full length of the 5.6 fourth pitch. I ultimately came to a halt on a sloping ledge. I was conscious. I screamed, crying out for help from Alistair, who was above me, and the hikers below. Under my legs was one of our half-ropes, in which I tied a figure-8 on a bight and clipped it to my belay loop. I yelled to Alistair that I was alive and secure, but injured, and there was no need to descend to me.

My left ankle was visibly disfigured and unable to support any weight. Clearly unable to self-rescue, I used my inReach device to send an SOS message. Within half an hour of my fall, a Parks Canada rescue helicopter located us on the rock face and began the rescue.

A Parks Canada rescuer attends to Laycock after his 35-meter fall. Laycock recalls, “My pants were shredded from the fall. The ledge was narrow and down-sloping and I imagine if I had been unconscious I could have slid further. When I landed, I was stable enough to secure myself, but it was a precarious position.”  Photo: Parks Canada 

ANALYSIS

Laycock’s accident was eerily similar to another recent incident, suffered by a climber in Arizona. Both fallen climbers had tied overhand knots in a 120cm length loop of 20mm sewn webbing to create adjustment pockets for a home-made PAS. This is a common practice. In both cases, it appears that the tether was not clipped correctly with the carabiner, but instead the knot caught in the bottom, non-gated end of the tether carabiner.

In the August 2023 accident and another in 2021, a tether carabiner of the same model had a bottom basket that was flat enough and shaped in such way as to allow a knot to temporarily hold weight, if only for a few minutes. In this recreation, note that the the jammed knot is pulled up and above the clipping point—almost visually identical to a correctly clipped daisy loop. Photo: Pete Takeda

 

Detaching and reattaching a carabiner from a daisy pocket or lanyard introduces an opportunity for error. After suffering his potentially fatal fall, Laycock wrote ANAC: “To shorten my PAS at an anchor, I won’t unclip the first (longest) loop anymore. I'll clip an additional locking carabiner in the shorter loop, then clip it to the first locker (Editor’s Note: This is inherently easier to visually evaluate). Previously, and in the case of my accident, I would completely unclip from one loop and reclip the closer knotted loop.” Graphic: Foster Denney

A contributing factor to the accident was that Laycock’s daisy knot was unusually bulky from being unevenly tied. This increased the possibility of the knot sticking in the bottom of the carabiner. He wrote, “Despite weighting my PAS to test it, the poorly dressed overhand knot briefly supported my weight.” He added, “Before the knot slipped through the carabiner, I failed to thoroughly check my anchorage to account for human error.”

It is worth noting that the critical section of webbing was hard to assess. The two strands that created the clipping pocket were of the same color and were flush with each other. Additionally, the rappel station was on a ledge, hampering a full weight test. In the end, sheer luck might have saved Laycock’s life.

He wrote, “During my fall, I tangled myself in the rope below, which was still being used by Alistair to rappel pitch five. This might have slowed my fall enough for me to stop on the ledge. We had two 70m half-ropes that hung 30 or 35 meters below the pitch-four anchor. When I hit the ledge, I was sitting on the tail of the rope, and I was still five to seven meters above the pitch three anchor.

“Also, my helmet, though it ended up broken, allowed me to remain conscious. Considering what could have happened, my injuries were minor: a fractured left fibula requiring surgery, and numerous abrasions.” (Sources: Adam Laycock, ANAC 2022, and the Editors.)


From the ANAC Report Archive:

Here are two incidents from past ANACs indicating ways climbers can be disconnected from anchors. Tragically, both of these ended with fatal injuries.

PAS Disconnected on Half Dome’s Snake Dike (ANAC 2016)

Knotted Sling Comes Undone on Grand Teton (ANAC 2017)

In all of the cases discussed here, a closer look and more vigorous weight-testing of the anchor connection might have prevented a disastrous accident. A common thread: the technical error occurred while the daisy/tether system was unweighted. The fall occurred only as or after bodyweight was applied to the system.

Note that while climbers place much emphasis on anchors themselves, there are numerous and equally consequential errors to be made while attaching and detaching oneself from the anchor. It is critical yet often ignored step, to triple check your connection.

From the ANAC Essentials Archive:

For more detail on making a clear weight transitions from one piece of cord, rope, or webbing to another, see outdoor educator, and climbing author Molly Loomis’ 2017 Essentials: Clear Weight Transitions.


Get Accidents in North American Climbing Mailed to You!

Published annually since 1948, Accidents in North American Climbing documents the year’s most significant and teachable climbing accidents. Each incident is analyzed by experts to show what went wrong in order to help climber avoid similar problems in the future.

When you sign up for AAC membership, you get this publication delivered to you annually in late summer.


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