Guidebook XII—Grant Spotlight

The Emperor Face of Mt. Robson in water color and ink. AAC member Craig Muderlak

Mountain Sense

By Sierra McGivney

Usually, when Balin Miller encounters spindrift ice climbing, he puts his head down, waits for 10 to 20 seconds, and continues climbing. Halfway up the face of the Andromeda Strain, a line on the northeast face of Mount Andromeda in Alberta, Canada, Miller and his climbing partner Adrien Costa encountered an intense spindrift funnel. Thirty seconds passed, then one minute, two. After five minutes, he thought, f*** this, and downclimbed.

Miller was persistent, but the spindrift was relentless. They wasted a couple of hours trying to go around.

“You couldn’t see anything, even if you wanted to push through,” said Miller.

Miller and Costa peered around to where the climbing turned into a chimney. A wall of white snow poured down it. They turned back a pitch before the Hockey Stick Crack, disappointed that they wouldn’t be able to live the lore embedded in that pitch. This wouldn’t be the last time they tested their judgment in the mountains and turned away from an objective.

“I think what gets me most stoked for routes isn’t really how good they are, per se, but a lot of the history involved in it—the route that has some old trip report of people getting really scared on it,” said Miller.

This might be why Miller chose the Andromeda Strain as one of his objectives for this 2023 Mountaineering Fellowship Fund Grant (MFFG) trip. Apart from being one of the most popular yet serious alpine climbs in the Canadian Rockies, it has an epic story. An unsuccessful earlier group tried to ascend the off-width and found it too wide to take anything but one-foot lengths of hewn-off hockey sticks (an eerie, early rendition of the Trango Big Bro). Having no hockey sticks handy in 1983, Barry Blanchard, Dave Cheesmond, and Tim Friesen traversed beneath the off-width and around the corner to a steep snow-choked chimney that became the Hockey Stick Crack.

Miller originally applied for the MFFG from the American Alpine Club to support an expedition to the Alaska Range. He was awarded the grant but had to change his trip to the Canadian Rockies due to financial constraints. This grant funds climbers 25 years or younger seeking challenging climbs in remote places. One of Miller’s partners, Adrien Costa, has previously leveraged other AAC grants, including the Tincup Partner in Adventure Grant in 2021 and the Catalyst Grant in 2021 and 2023. The AAC grants can be a great jumping-off point for climbers looking to dream big.

Miller is an ice climber who spends his summers in Alaska and his winters in Bozeman. He got into climbing at the age of 12 and was versed in both ice and rock climbing growing up in Alaska. He is stalwart when it comes to ice climbing, but he has a goofy aura. You can deduce from photos of his trip that he doesn’t take himself too seriously, even on big alpine climbs.

After getting turned around on the Andromeda Strain, Miller and Costa climbed Dreambed (5.11 PG-13) on Mount Yamnuska and enjoyed a sunny day on rock. The two saw a weather window coming up and turned their gaze to Mount Robson or Yuh-hai- haskun (“The Mountain of the Spiral Road”), the highest peak in Canada. Infinite Patience (2200m, VI 5.9 WI5 M5) climbs the north side of the Emperor Face of Mount Robson until it merges with the Emperor Ridge (2500m, V 5.6). This was another big objective for Miller. Despite a solid weather window and the season being in their favor, new challenges awaited the group.

Aidan Whitelaw, six feet, four inches tall with a high-pitched voice, is one of Miller’s best friends. Despite being a student at Montana State University in Bozeman, he’s almost always down to skip class if it means going climbing.

With Whitelaw newly arrived, they set off on their adventure with only one rope, trying to go as light as possible. One rope between three climbers is OK if they don’t need to bail, but just in case, the team brought a Beal Escaper.

Miller wrote in his trip report: “Leaving the parking lot on October 5, Aidan Whitelaw, Adrien, and I hiked into Berg Lake, camping at the base of the face. [We] started up the face at 2 a.m. on the 6th. We soon realized that the direct start was out of condition. It’s usually [three pitches of WI 4 or 5] but turned out to be steep, wet melting snice. We opted to traverse right to gain Bubba’s Couloir. Unfortunately, there was no alpine ice left in the couloir. But the snow climbing was moderate but unprotectable. We eventually decided to bail after the House Traverse, which is roughly halfway up the Emperor Face to the ridge on Infinite Patience.”

Deciding to bail had become extremely obvious to the group. They encountered compact limestone with no cracks and nothing to sling. The group was fine leaving cams or pins but couldn’t find good placements to make anchors. They decided to deadman their ice tools, burying them to create a snow anchor to rappel off.

“It was the worst rock imaginable,” said Miller.

Eventually, they reached a bivy spot and got cozy, fitting three people into a two-person tent and Whitelaw and Miller into one sleeping bag. At noon the next day, they started their descent, which consisted of rappelling off V-threads and lousy rock anchors.

Balin Miller, Adrien Costa, and Aiden Whitelaw at the bivy spot on Infinite Patience getting cozy in a two-person tent. Land of the Mountain Metis, Stoney, Cree and Secwepemc peoples. AAC member Balin Miller

The Beal Escaper is a detachable rappelling device that allows you to descend on a single strand without permanently fixing the rappel and sacrificing the rope. To retrieve the rope, the climber tugs the rope ten to twenty times, causing the rope to inch through the Escaper and retrieve the rope.

The group was on 80-degree melting snow. No one had counted how many times they had pulled the rope to disengage the Escaper, but something was wrong. Everyone got quiet. They pulled as much rope through as they could, but ultimately, the rope refused to release. Unable to jug back up the rope out of fear that movement could release the device, and unable to solo back up because of 80 feet of steep bad snow and friable rock, they pulled out as much rope as they could and cut it. Only eight meters of rope were in their hands, the rest of it lost to the mountain. It was dark, and they didn’t know how far they were above the Mist Glacier.

They tied slings together as a pull cord, allowing them to do increments of full eight-meter rappels. Luckily, they were only 100 feet from the bottom.

Twenty-four hours later, Whitelaw was in class in Bozeman, Montana; no one was aware of the epic in the mountains he had just returned from.

Balin Miller questing off to lead a mixed pitch on Infinite Patience (VI5.9M5WI5).Land of the Mountain Metis, Stoney, Cree, and Secwepemc peoples. AAC member Adrian Costa

After several days off, Miller and Costa hiked into the Lloyd McKay Hut to attempt the north face of Alberta. However, they didn’t get the chance due to a storm and nine inches of wet snow. Miller wasn’t too bummed. Conditions weren’t in their favor, and there was always next year. Both Miller and Costa left after that, and Miller headed to Yosemite.

In November, Miller returned ready to ice climb. He climbed Suffer Machine (200m, WI5+ M7); Virtual Reality (100m, WI6+); Kittyhawk (150m, WI5), solo; and Nemesis (150m, WI6), solo.

He took a short break to visit his mom in Spokane, Washington. Ethan Berkeland flew out to meet him, and the pair drove about 430 miles back up to Canada with Slipstream in sight. Slipstream (900m, IV WI4+) climbs the east face of Snow Dome. It is infamous for it’s exposure to dangerous seracs, avalanches, and cornices, as evidenced by five reports in the Accidents in North American Climbing archive. Jim Elzinga and John Lauchlan first climbed it in 1979, and Mark Twight simul-soloed it in 1988 with Randy Rackliff.

“Anything Mark Twight does is awesome,” said Miller.

The previous fall, Miller had bailed after the approach when it had taken longer than expected, and “it just didn’t feel right.” Both Miller and Berkeland are solid ice climbers. They brought a full rope, a tagline, 14 screws, and a handful of draws, planning to solo the easier parts and pitch out the harder ones. They ended up simul-soloing the entire east face of Snow Dome on November 29 in four hours. In total, the day was thirteen hours from car to car.

After getting turned around on his previous alpine objectives, this was a great achievement for Miller.

Despite the epics on some of his original objectives, Miller found success. Each “failure” in the mountains is a lesson learned for the next climb, maybe even a cutting-edge ascent. The spindrift turned him around on Andromeda Strain, and Infinite Patience was out of condition, but Slipstream proved to be an amazing climb. Sometimes, infinite patience pays off in the mountains.

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Guidebook XII—Rewind the Climb

Photo by AAC Staff Foster Denney.

The Naked Edge

By Hannah Provost

If you had to tell the story of the evolution of climbing within the history of one route, your most compelling choices might be The Nose of El Capitan or The Naked Edge in Eldorado Canyon. In this way, The Naked Edge is a time capsule containing within its memory: the much dreamed-of first ascent finally climbed by Layton Kor, Bob Culp, and Rick Horn; a period defining free ascent by Jim Erickson and Duncan Furgeson in the early 1970s; and one of the few battle- grounds for speed records in the United States. In 1962, Kor and Bob Culp were diverted attempting to aid the steep final edge, and today, climbers have speed climbed the route, bridge to bridge, in a little over 22 minutes. What is it about this climb that has allowed it to be the sketchbook for climbing legends to draw out the evolution of our sport? Anecdotes and artifacts from the American Alpine Club Library and archives provided the answer.

Perhaps it was all aesthetics—the compelling imagery of a climb that could divide dark- ness and light. Or maybe it was the fact that The Edge tends to rebuff many of its suitors. But whether The Naked Edge was dishing out a good humbling, or whether, as Jim Erickson famously argued, his free ascent style “humbled the climb” instead, The Naked Edge might live so prominently in our collective climbing memory because it encapsulates one of the great questions of each climbing endeavor. Who holds the power here? The climb or the climber?

At first, the route held all the cards. Layton Kor, known for his hulking height and wild, almost demonic, drive, could usually weaponize his determination and fearlessness to get through any hard climbing he might envision for himself. Yet when Layton Kor and Bob Culp attempted to aid the route in 1962, having each been turned away in 1961 on separate occasions, they still had to deviate from the original vision and finished the climb via a dihedral slightly to the left of the stunning final overhang. It wasn’t until Kor came back with Rick Horn in 1964 that The Edge, as we climb it today, was first done in its entirety.

Jim Erickson, a young gun with a knowing grin, hadn’t always been a hotshot. However, by the early 1970s, he had gotten into the habit of proving a point—freeing the old obscure aid lines in Eldo put up by Robbins, Kor, Dalke, and Ament the decade before. After several failed attempts to free The Naked Edge, repeatedly retreating from the first pitch finger crack due to a strict avoidance of hangdog- ging and rehearsing, freeing The Naked Edge was his foremost ambition.

By 1971, The Naked Edge had been ascended 30 or so times using direct aid. Erickson was envisioning a new phase of the route’s life. Yet his first moderately successful attempt, with prolific free climber Steve Wunsch, was yet another humbling. As he wrote for Climb!: The History of Rock Climbing in Colorado, the fourth pitch was daunting to the point of existential: “Steve dubs it impossible. I give it a disheartened try, but it is late so down we come, pondering the ultimate metaphysical questions: ‘Is there life after birth? Sex after death?’”

When Erickson and Duncan Ferguson returned a week later, things went a little more smoothly. Though The Naked Edge was the last major climb that the two would ascend using pitons, it wasn’t the use of pitons that haunted Erickson and sent him off on his staunch commitment to only onsight free -climbing. Rather, when Erickson reflects on the effort and technique of pitoncraft, and the incredible added effort of free climbing on pitons, he seems almost to be creating something, tinkering. Describing nailing the crux of the first thin pitch in an interview for the Legacy Series, a project of the AAC to preserve the history of climbing, Erickson painted a picture of immense toil: “You’re in this strenuous fingertip layback, with shoes that didn’t smear very well...You had to first of all figure out which piton you were going to place, you had to set it in the crack, you were doing all of this with one hand while you were hanging on. Then you had to tap the piton once to make sure you didn’t lose it... because if you missed it and dropped it you’re back to square one, so you had to tap the pin, finally hit it in, test it to see if it was good, then you’d clip a single free carabiner, and a second free carabiner into it, and then you would clip your rope in, all while you were hanging on with one hand in a bad finger lock.”

In the 1960s and 1970s, once a route was freed, it was not to be aided again. The rock had been sufficiently humbled, and all climbers seeking to prove their worth on that rock must level up their skills to prove themselves worthy.

Lynn Hill and Beth Bennett set out to capture an ascent of The Edge with filmmaker Bob Carmichael in 1981, who may have let the reputation of the climb leak into the produc- tion notes, asking the climbers to fall repeatedly on the first pitch and editing in a training mon- tage. Though the film claims to document the struggle of the first all-female ascent, Bennett reports: “the film with Lynn was a fictionalized account.” Bennett had already clinched the FFFA in 1977, and reports doing the first all-fe- male ascent with Louise Shepherd and Jean Dempsey (née Ruwitch) a year later. Similarly, Hill had become the first woman to climb 7c (5.12d) two years before, and was clearly stronger than the film suggests. Their humbling was played up for the sake of drama, and Hill wishes she could have properly attempted an onsight. In the case of this ascent, the humbling reputation of the climb dominated the narra- tive, obscuring the power the climbers’ held in that fight.

These days, news about The Naked Edge revolves around the potentially most hubristic

part of modern rock climbing: soloing and speed ascents. Speed ascents of this iconic route began in the early 1990s with Micheal Gilbert and Rob Slater. As the record dwin- dled, a friendly rivalry emerged between two teams consisting of Stefan Griebel and Jason Wells, and Brad Gobright and Scott Bennett. Before Gobright and Wells died in respective climbing accidents in Mexico and California, this friendly rivalry had pushed the record to 24 minutes and 29 seconds. New kids Ben Wilbur and John Ebers arrived on the scene in 2020 and, with just a few practice runs, cut down the record to 24 minutes and 14 sec- onds. In 2022, Griebel put on his racing shoes again and paired up with local Joe Kennedy, climbing The Naked Edge in 22 minutes and 44 seconds, bridge to bridge.

Griebel has climbed the route over 350 times. Sometimes pitched out and casual, some- times as reconnaissance missions, sometimes as three laps in three hours as he and Joe got closer to going for the Fastest Known Time. For these speed climbers, the route has become a “third place,” even more so than the climbing gym. Besides work and home, it has become the other, alternative place where one is social, makes connections, and refines one’s identity. Kennedy writes: “You could argue it’s a waste of time to climb it over and over, but doing so has led to some of the most meaningful friendships and climbing experiences I’ve had in my life. It has turned the route into a meeting place, a fitness test, a playground, and something so much more significant than just a rock climb.”

But even these modern masters of this stone can be humbled by the climb in their own way. Kennedy reflects: “I was totally humbled by the route when I first climbed it. It was much more difficult than I expected–thin, techy, pumpy, and slick. And when I don’t climb it for a while, I never fail to get more pumped than I thought, no matter how dialed my beta is.” Griebel is adamant the rock always does the humbling: “Sometimes it feels like the easiest one-pitch 5.9 warm-up in the canyon, and other days I mess up a crux sequence in the smallest way and suddenly get pumped and scared! The rock always does the humbling, not the other way around. I’ve seen 5.13 sport climbers fall out of the Bombay Chimney onto that 50-year-old pin!”

Reflecting today, Jim Erickson says his famous quote is often misunderstood. Indeed, he believes the style in which he and Furguson freed The Edge wasn’t the ethics he truly believed in—despite yo-yoing being an accepted practice at the time, he only ever truly felt satisfied by onsight climbing. But he also insists that he and his partners were hum- bled by the climb, too. In contrast to Griebel, Kennedy, and others, Erickson has never gotten back on The Naked Edge after his his- tory-making ascent. It was such a special experience that he worried that climbing it again would destroy the myth of it. Still, he can remember nearly every piece of beta, each pound of the hammer required to secure each piton.

Climbing it only once, Erickson is still torn by the question of humility. Climbing it hundreds of times, Griebel has yet to come any closer to finding the answer. So, who is doing the humbling? Perhaps, the fact that the answer is so elusive is why the pursuit of the question remains so satisfying.

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

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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. 

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

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“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!”

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Samuel F. Pryor III Shawangunk Gateway Campground

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May at the top of Ken's Crack (5.7+).

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Lindsay on Pitch two of Belly Roll (5.4).

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. 

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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!

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Resources:

Learn More about Connie Shang

Other Undercover Crusher Episodes

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.

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

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.

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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.

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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.”

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

Educate: Search and Rescue Helicopter Evacuation in the Black Canyon of the Gunnison

Photo by AAC member Jon Glassberg.

This year, the featured winner of the Rocky Talkie Search and Rescue Award is the Black Canyon Search and Rescue team, who performed an incredibly technical rescue in 2023 in the Black Canyon, after a climber took a bad fall that left them unconscious, needing medical attention almost 2,000 ft down into the canyon. In this episode, we sit down to chat with Sean Hart, one of the SAR team members at the scene that day, who walks us through the unique challenges of climbing and rescuing in The Black, the harrowing rescue by Blackhawk helicopter, how critical communication is in rescues, and how to always have a plan B.

Learn more about the Rocky Talkie Search and Rescue Award, watch the film about this incredible rescue, and get the chance to give back to your local search and rescue team AND win some incredible gear by going to https://rockytalkie.com/pages/sar-award

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Announcing the 2024 Rocky Talkie Search & Rescue Award Winners

We’re thrilled to partner with Rocky Talkie to announce the winners of the 2024 Search & Rescue Award. Through this grant, Rocky Talkie is donating $75,000 to six underfunded SAR teams across the nation. Read their stories and watch a film by Jon Glassberg about the Featured Rescue of the Year on Rocky Talkie’s website.

You can also enter to win $5,000 for your local Search and Rescue team plus a safety prize package for yourself through Rocky Talkie’s SAR Award giveaway when you visit their website.

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Must-Read Ascents On Great Trango Tower From The American Alpine Journal

By: Sierra McGivney

A wonderful panorama looking southeast over Great Trango Tower from the summit of Trango II. (A) K7 (6,934m). (B) Yermanendu Kangri (7,163m). (C) Masherbrum (7,821m). (D) Mandu East (7,127m). (E) Mandu West (7,081m). (F) Urdukas (6,320m). (G) Seemingly unnamed. (H) Liligo Glacier. (I) Great Trango northeast (6,231m). (J) Great Trango Main (6,286m). (K) Great Trango southwest (ca 6,250m). (1) Great Trango normal route. (2) Top section of Krasnoyarsk Route. The lower left foreground is the summit of Trango Tower. PC: Jakob Schweighofer

"The impressive rock spires of Great Trango Tower and Trango (a.k.a. Nameless) Tower create one of the wonders of the Earth, capturing the imagination of everyone who travels on the Baltoro Glacier. Great Trango resembles a giant castle flanked by steep walls. On top of nearly a mile of sheer rock, four magnificent summit turrets comprise the East, West, Main (middle), and South summits," writes John Middendorf. 

Will it hold? Marek Raganowicz starts pitch 26, Bushido, Great Trango Tower. Photo by Marcin Tomaszewski.

Great Trango Tower is located in the Baltoro Glacier region of the Karakoram Range of Pakistan. The Karakoram is located mostly in northern Pakistan but also reaches into Tajikistan, China, Afghanistan, and India, creating a diverse ecosystem. Cutting-edge alpinists travel to the area to test their skills by climbing new routes on some of the biggest walls in the world. Great Trango Tower, which sits at 6,286 meters, offers challenging granite face-climbing and unforgettable rock features. The climbing history of the mountain runs deep, so we have compiled a list of must-read ascents on Great Trango Tower from the AAJ. 

Don't worry! We haven't forgotten Trango Tower (AKA Nameless Tower), the other famous monolith in the Trango Towers group. Our next dive into the AAJ archives will focus on the legendary ascents on Nameless Tower, so be on the lookout. Until then, dive into these epic stories from Great Trango Tower. 

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1. The First Ascent of Great Trango Tower

Great Trango Tower. Climb Year: 1977. Publication Year: 1978. Author: Dennis Hennek.

Kim Schmitz on perfect granite at 18,000 feet on the Great Trango Tower. Photo by Galen A. Rowell.

This list wouldn't be complete without the first ascent of Great Trango Tower. After rerouted and canceled flights, Galen Rowell, John Roskelley, Kim Schmitz, Dennis Hennek, and Dr. Lou Buscaglia began their trek through the Shigar Valley up the Braldu River Valley, where they met up with the final member of their team, Dr. Jim Morrissey. Once they established basecamp on Trango Glacier, a four-day storm settled over them, causing debris to fall on their proposed climb.

Telephoto view of Gasherbrum IV and Hidden Peak over Baltoro Glacier from the summit of Great Trango Tower. Photo by Galen A. Rowell.

"The scene greeting us at the base of the gully brought us back to reality and the seriousness of the next 3,500 feet."

On the first day of climbing, Hennek, Rowell, Schmitz, and Roskelley witnessed an avalanche filling the gully they had just ascended, where they believed Buscaglia and Morrissey to be. But "luck stayed with us"— the two had scrambled to the side of the gully to check out a waterfall, the avalanche narrowly missing them. This was only the first day, and it wouldn't be the only hurdle in their journey. Yet the rewards were great. "The afternoon was warm and clear, with an unobstructed, unforgettable view in all directions. We all agreed that there could be no better view of the Baltoro Karakoram." Read about the first ascent while looking at black and white photos from their expedition here. 

Trango Towers at Sunrise

The route ascends the face of the left tower via ramps. Photo by Galen A. Rowell.

Kim Schmitz on Great Trango Tower at 18,000 feet

Photo by Galen A. Rowell.

2. Suffer Well: Thirst and Hunger On The Azeem Ridge

Great Trango, Pakistan. Publication Year: 2005. Author: Kelly Cordes.

The cover of AAJ 2005: Josh Wharton traversing (5.10+ A1) into the headwall on day 3, about 1,500m up the Azeem Ridge, Great Trango, Pakistan. Photo by Kelly Cordes.

This article stands out in the AAJ archives because of what a saga this ascent turned out to be. Josh Wharton and Kelly Cordes climbed Great Trango’s southwest ridge, which they called the Azeem Ridge (7,400' vertical, 5.11R/X A2 M6), in what they deemed "delusional optimism," "disaster style," and "safety fifth!" climbing. Cordes and Wharton climbed 54 pitches, facing many challenges. On the second pitch, one side of their jury-rigged double-gear slings came undone, causing about a quarter of their cams to fall. Then, halfway up the wall, the two ran out of fuel, leaving them with only one option, sucking on snow in place of drinking water. Cordes wrote: "When we reached the bivouac where our last fuel sputtered out, we never spoke of retreat." On the fourth morning, Wharton's headlamp slingshotted out of his hands and was lost to the tower. Soon after, Cordes’ belay device suffered the same fate. At this point, their only option was up and over. Continue reading about how Cordes and Wharton kept heading up, even against all odds. 

3. Climbers vs. Technology

Great Trango Tower's Northwest Face. Publication Year: 2000. Author: Jared Ogden. 

Alex Lowe and Mark Synnott with computers at Camp I. Photo by Jared Ogden.

This article was written at the turn of the century when technology and climbing began to clash. Jared Ogden, Mark Synnott, and Alex Lowe faced moral dilemmas about filming and hosting a live internet site during the expedition for their sponsor, Quokka Sports Inc. Quokka.com was one of the only virtual adventure sports websites near the dawn of the internet, until they went bankrupt in the spring of 2001. Ogden, Synnott, and Lowe brought "all assortments of cyberspace technology," including computers and video cameras, and fixed more than 3,000 feet of rope. Foreshadowing today's day and age of viral climbing videos on TikTok and Instagram, this article launched a discussion of technology and its place in climbing. But once on the wall, the team's technology worries disappeared, and they became engrossed in the ethereal alpine world of the Karakoram.

Alex Lowe Cleaning Pitch 30. Photo by Jared Ogden.

The team faced challenges with group dynamics, fever, and "storm-ridden suffer-fests." Through hard-earned adventure, the team produced  Parallel Worlds (VII 5.11 A4, 6,000'). "Our…route combined all the elements of rock climbing: a long free climb up a 3,400-foot slab to a vertical and overhanging headwall that stretches over 2,000 feet, finishing on a knife-edge ridge for 1,000 feet to the West Summit," wrote Ogden. Read about this harrowing adventure and Ogden's tribute to Alex Lowe, who died in an avalanche just a few months after this climb.

Want to read more discourse about technology and its place in the mountains? Read Steve House's hot take on "business climbing" and media regarding the ascent of Parallel Worlds here. 

4. The Russian Way

Author: Yuri Koshelenko, Russia. Publication Year: 2000.

Parallel worlds: the American (left) and Russian teams hard at work on the headwall pitches on Great Trango's northwest face. Photo by Yuri Koshelenko.

While Jared Ogden, Mark Synnott, and Alex Lowe were putting up Parallel Worlds, Yuri Koshelenko, Alexander Odintsov, Ivan Samoilenko, and Igor Potankina climbed a line to the right of them—parallel up the Northwest Face of Great Trango Tower. The two groups worked hard next to each other for a time, developing genuine mutual assistance, "I was unexpectedly seized by the warm hospitality of the American team. I took huge gulps of piping hot tea from Alex's cup while thinking about the condition of the wet rock," writes Koshelenko. On July 24, after ascending shared fixed ropes, the two groups split apart, and so began the Russian team's arduous journey up dangerous 5.10 to 5.11 free climbing and difficult A3 and A4 sections. Two days later, while climbing a roof, Odintsov ripped off a huge block, tumbling down the face, caught by a well-placed cam but suffering hip and shoulder injuries. Odintsov's fall was just the beginning of their intense battle up the wall. The group faced unstable weather, including snowstorms, multiple uncomfortably close lightning strikes, a dropped haul bag, and dwindling food supplies. Read the epic tale of the ascent of The Russian Way (VII 5.11 A4, 2675m), written beautifully by Yuri Koshelenko, here. 

"The mountains always accept the tribute, though sometimes the price may seem excessive. But humanity cannot exist without extremes—such is the law of evolution." 

5. Epic Attempts on the Trango Towers

Great Trango Tower and Trango Nameless Tower, Attempts. Publication Year: 2001. Author: Timmy O'Neill 

Miles Smart on the last headwall on Great Trango Tower during the second attempt to climb the southwest ridge. Photo by Timmy O'Neill.

Funded by the American Alpine Club's Lyman Spitzer Climbing Grant, now the Cutting Edge Grant, this trip report chronicles two attempts of the southwest ridge of Great Trango, now the Azeem Ridge, by Timmy O'Neill and Miles Smart. O'Neill and Smart spent almost 50 days on the Trango Glacier waiting out bad weather. During one of their three brief weather windows, they attempted the southwest ridge of Great Trango, an effort "ended with a forced bivy at 18,000" after climbing for 12 hours through 4,000 feet of 4th class to 5.10. They tried again to no avail, despite climbing to within 300 meters of the summit, and moved on to a potential ascent of Eternal Flame on Nameless Tower. Their first attempt on Eternal Flame, "a one-day, single-push climb," ended with a difficult decision to descend six pitches from the summit. Three days later, they "blasted" from the col, ready to summit Eternal Flame. After eight hours of climbing, "the hand of Allah came to catch me and then subsequently thwack me into the wall," writes O'Neill. O'Neill had fallen 100 feet after he short-fixed his rope. Read about the epic attempts on the Trango Towers here. 

6. Triumph and Tragedy on Great Trango Tower

The Norwegian Buttress, 1984. 

Robert Caspersen, pitch 34. Photo by Per Ludvig Skjerven.

In 1984, a Norwegian team of four, Hans Christian Doseth, Finn Daehli, Stein P. Aasheim, and Dag Kolsrud, attempted the first ascent of the East Face of Great Trango. Due to a lack of food and slow progress up the wall, the team decided to split. Aasheim and Kolsrud rappelled off safely, reaching the Dunge Glacier, while Daehli and Doseth continued on. From the ground, Aasheim and Kolsrud watched via telephoto lenses as their friends reached the summit. Tragically, Daehli and Doseth fell to their deaths during the descent. Their bodies were later spotted at the foot of the climb, but soon after, an avalanche buried them. Their magnificent line was named the Norwegian Buttress. "The triumph had turned into a total tragedy." Read more about the Norwegian Buttress in an article in the 2000 AAJ, which also describes another new route on Great Trango, the Norwegian Trango Pulpit Direct (VII A4 5.11, ca. 2200m).

7. The Grand Voyage

Great Trango Tower, East Face, Swiss-American Expedition, Second Ascent To The East Summit. Publication Year: 1993. Author: John Middendorf. 

Xaver Bongard on Great Trango Tower. Photo by John Middendorf.

We picked this article because of the challenging climbing featured in it and because it was written by the one and only John Middendorf. The recent passing of John Middendorf deeply saddens us, and we invite you to read our tribute to him here.

The Grand Voyage (the Bongard-Middendorf route). This photo doesn’t show the 1984 Norwegian route, which climbed the same buttress, making the first ascent of Great Trango’s East Summit. Grand Voyage started far to the left of the Norwegian route, joined it for three pitches above the big midway ledge, and finished to the right of the Norwegian route. Photo by John Middendorf.

The Swiss-American Expedition, comprised of Swiss Xaver Bongard, Ueli Bühler, François Studiman, American photographer Ace Kvale, and John Middendorf, sought to establish a new line on the east face of Great Trango Tower: The Grand Voyage (Grade VII, 5.10, A4+), which started to the left of the original Norwegian Route and finished to the right. Bongard and Middendorf climbed capsule-style, moving their high camp upward and creating "safe havens" on the wall; they established five camps on the wall, four hanging and one at the snow ledge halfway up. This style of climbing resulted in almost a month on the wall. Ice, snow, and rock fall were high objective hazards for the group. In turn, this created belay stations that were "in suicidal positions." The group climbed the last five pitches below the snow ledge through vertical ice climbing, "rotten aid," and free climbing up a "dangerous steep corner system"—dubbed "Gollum's Gully"—at night due to high objective hazards. "Occasionally, huge sections would exfoliate off the wall and pound down around us." Continue reading about the legendary The Grand Voyage (Grade VII, 5.10, A4+) here. 

8. Pitch by Pitch, Move by Move: The Other Side of The Grand Voyage 

Great Trango Tower. Publication Year: 1995. Author: Xaver Bongard, Club Alpin Suisse.

John Middendorf and Xaver Bongard on Great Trango Tower. Photo by Ace Kvale.

If you're like us, you can't get enough of the epic story surrounding The Grand Voyage (Grade VII, 5.10, A4+). In 1995, the AAJ published Xaver Bongard's extensive trip report about the expedition, complementing Middendorf’s shorter report. If you love the nitty-gritty details and play-by-play of expeditions, this story is for you. "Pitch 23 was now behind us. To belay, I jammed into a narrow chimney. John, who was larger than I, had no chance of fitting in and continued up the outside. Hauling the sacks, I got up to his level and squeezed back into the crack, first removing my helmet, which was too big to fit in. John continued to climb on the exterior. I was resting from my efforts when I saw him fall and swing in an impressive pendulum." Read about The Grand Voyage from Bongard's perspective here. Tragically, Xaver Bongard was killed in April 1994 in a BASE-jumping accident. This story appeared in the 1995 AAJ as a tribute to him and to provide more information about the landmark Great Trango climb.

9. Stay Tuned: The First Ski Descent of Great Trango

The most recent news surrounding Great Trango Tower involves the first ski descent. On May 9, 2024, Chantel Astorga, Christina Lustenberger, and Jim Morrison skied down the west side of Great Trango Tower. The 2024 AAJ is already off to the printers, and we are eager to get the book into members' hands, so look out for the story in the 2025 AAJ!

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Want to learn more about the history of Great Trango Tower and Trango Tower? Read John Middendorf's The Trango Towers in Review article from the 2000 AAJ. Stay on the lookout for our upcoming deep dive into the archives around Nameless Tower and more! 

Want to catch up your reading before the 2024 AAJ comes out?

Protect: First Ascents, Ground Falls, and the AAC Rescue Benefit in Action

In this episode, we sit down with Jarod, a long-time AAC member, to discuss a crazy accident he had at his home crag in Missouri, and how he utilized the AAC’s rescue benefit to cover the cost of his medical expenses. If you’ve been wondering if the AAC’s rescue benefit is for you, Jarod’s story helps explain how it works. We dive into the quirky concept of “girdle traverses” or mulitpitches that go sideways, and analyze his accident— the decisions he made, how traversing complicates gear placements, and the close calls he had. Funnily enough, Jarod also did a FA on that same wall—putting up Missouri’s potentially longest rock climb with Jeremy Collins, and this FA made it into the American Alpine Journal! We discuss the vision behind this 8-pitch traverse, what went into making it happen, the silliness of climbing, the unique belay tactics for traversing, and more!

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The American Alpine Club Announces 2024 Cutting Edge Grant Winners

PC: Nelson Neirinck

May 2024

The American Alpine Club and Black Diamond Equipment are pleased to announce the 2024 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 recipients have been awarded a total of $20,000 for this cycle, with objectives featuring a low-impact style and leave-no-trace mentality looked upon with favor. Black Diamond Equipment is a proud sponsor of the Cutting Edge Grant and a key partner in supporting cutting-edge alpinism.

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PC: Fanny Schmutz

Chantel Astorga will receive $4,000 to attempt the Direct East Face of Mount Shivling (6543m), located in the Gangotri Valley of the Garhwal Himalayas of India. Astorga and her team had attempted the route in 2023. Astorga has previously received the Cutting Edge Grant and McNeill-Nott Grant, and has put up the first ascent of the southwest face of Nilkanth, also in the Central Garhwal. She is known for her first ski descent of the Seattle Ramp variation to the West Rib of Denali, and her first female solo of the Cassin Ridge. 

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Dane Steadman, PC: Fletch Peterson

Dane Steadman will receive $3,000 to attempt the first ascent of Yashkuk Sar, in the northern Karakoram, from its north side. The objective was the product of a strong desire to climb in the Karakoram, especially a technical route on a mid-elevation peak in the less traveled regions, coupled with Google Earth wanderings and internet scouring. The team, which evolved over time due to injuries, now consists of Steadman, his primary climbing partner, Cody Winckler, who also lives in northern Wyoming with Steadman and shares his passion for winter climbing, and August Franzen, a resident of Valdez, Alaska, who Steadman has yet to share a rope with but whom Steadman and Winckler have been wanting to climb with for a while. In 2023, Steadman was part of a Cutting Edge Grant team that put up a new route on the northeast face of Pik Alpinist, Kyrgyzstan.

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Pc: Gardner and Hennessey, living large

Sam Hennessey will receive $4,500 to attempt the north face of Jannu East, an alpine big wall rising 2400m from schrund to summit. It has only been attempted twice (by Hennessey’s team), and the peak is unclimbed by any route. In 2022, Hennessey was part of an astonishing record-breaking speed ascent of Denali’s Slovak Direct in 17 hours and 10 min. 

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PC: Mathilde Sjostedt.

Ethan Berman will receive $4,000 to attempt the Southeast Pillar of Ultar Sar (7388m), located in the Batura Muztagh Karakoram, Pakistan, and often referred to as the "Walker Spur" of the Karakoram. As Colin Haley put it after his 2007 attempt, "With the route proper more than 3100m tall, it makes the North Ridge of Latok 1 look small by comparison, and while not as technical it is still sustained real climbing—very little simple slogging." It has been attempted by several strong parties since 1992, with a high point of ~6500m by the Giri-Giri Boys in 2011. Besides the sheer scale of the route, the main difficulties will be sustained mixed climbing from 6500-6900m. Berman has previously received an AAC Live Your Dream Grant. In late 2022, Berman and Maarten Van Haeren put up the first ascent of the northeast face of Khang Karpo (6,646 meters) in Nepal.

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Chris Wright will receive $4,500 to attempt the north face of Chiling II, which Wright calls “one of the most handsome unclimbed north faces on the planet.” Wright met his climbing partner Stian Bruvoll while guiding in Norway’s Lofoten Islands, where they quickly connected over an enthusiasm for the particular style of Arctic alpinism, which is nothing if not an acquired taste. They started dreaming up bigger things, and are excited for Chiling II, which should offer almost five thousand feet of exceptional, hard climbing in lightweight, alpine style. In 2019, Chris Wright, alongside Graham Zimmerman, Steve Swenson, and Mark Richey, accomplished the Piolet D’Or winning first ascent of Link Sar, a 7,041-meter peak buried deep in the Pakistani Karakoram and long considered one of the world's greatest unclimbed mountains. 

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

Contact:

Shane Johnson, Chief Marketing Officer: [email protected]

Eddie Espinosa, Community Programs Director: [email protected]

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Presented by:

The American Alpine Club Announces 2024 McNeill-Nott Winners

May 2024 

The American Alpine Club (AAC) and Mountain Hardwear are excited to announce the 2024 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.

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Michelle Dvorak On Murchison Falls, Alberta, Canada. PC: llia Slobodov

Michelle Dvorak will receive $4,000 to attempt a 7000m peak in the Uttarakhand with an all-female team, including Fay Manners. Manners and Dvorak are close friends and experienced climbing partners. They have put up first ascents on steep rock faces in Greenland and did an all-female ascent of Denali's Cassin Ridge. Sue Nott and Karen McNeill completed the first female ascent of Denali’s Cassin Ridge in 2004. 

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Khan’s planned objective in the Karakoram Range.

Amber Khan will receive $3,500 to attempt to complete a loop from Shimshal village—summiting numerous climbed and unclimbed peaks, ranging from 5,900 to 7,440 meters, during her expedition with Nafeesa Andrabi. Khan and Andrabi are two Pakistani-American climbers seeking to establish a moderate, attainable training loop for aspiring Pakistani and female alpinists in the Karakoram. Their proposed climb provides them the opportunity to develop as budding alpinists while climbing in their homeland. For Khan and Andrabi, this trip is just the beginning of a larger goal to expand mountaineering access to communities in Pakistan, especially for women.

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Applications for the McNeill-Nott Award are accepted each year from October 1 through November 30.

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Contact:

Shane Johnson, VP of Marketing and Comms: [email protected] 

Eddie Espinosa, Community Programs Director: [email protected]

Berkeley Anderson, Foundation and Grants Coordinator: [email protected]

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About Mountain Hardwear

Mountain Hardwear, Inc., was founded in 1993 and is based in Richmond, CA. We exist to encourage and equip people to seek a wilder path in life. For 30 years, we’ve built essential equipment for climbers, mountaineers, and outdoor athletes and have supported expeditions on the world’s highest peaks. Relentless precision continues to inspire everything we do — our designers sweat every stitch and detail to continuously improve function, durability, and comfort. Mountain Hardwear is a wholly-owned subsidiary of Columbia Sportswear Company that distributes its products through specialty outdoor retailers in the United States and 34 countries worldwide. www.mountainhardwear.com

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Rewind the Climb: The North Face of North Twin

Photos Courtesy of the George Lowe Collection

First Ascent by George Lowe and Chris Jones

By Grey Satterfield

Fifty years ago, George Lowe and Chris Jones plunged deep into the Canadian Rockies in search of an adventure. They had read in the 1966 American Alpine Journal of a “mountain wall which acts like a strong drug on the mind.” This wall was the north face of Twin Tower (more often referred to as the north face of North Twin), and Lowe and Jones’ adventure turned into one of the proudest ascents in the history of alpinism…

To this day, their route has yet to see a full second ascent. The north face was finally climbed again by a different route 11 years later. In 50 years, only five teams have started at the bottom of the north face and made the summit. Every climber returned with a story more harrowing than the next.

Dive in as Grey Satterfield revisits this historic ascent, and uncovers truths that helps us reflect on modern climbing:

Crag Development During Deployment: A Story from the Live Your Dream Grant

PC: Joseph Stuart

Joseph Stuart received a 2023 Live Your Dream grant from the American Alpine Club to help start a mountaineering club and develop a crag while deployed in Iraq.

*This article was originally published in the Blah, Blah, Black Sheep newsletter and is lightly edited for clarity.

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How have the 250th FRSD (Forward Resuscitative Surgical Detachment), who call themselves the "Blacksheep," been spending their downtime in Iraq, you might ask? We started a mountaineering club! It all began when our fearless orthopedic surgeon and climbing extraordinaire, MAJ Griff Biedron, discovered a uniquely shaped rock crag formation about two miles away from our living quarters. It's located in an infrequently trafficked corner of the base, just off the road. The rock face is about 90 feet wide and 25 feet tall, with steep overhanging sections. The crag is sandwiched between sloping hills, so it is easy to hike or scramble to the top if approaching from the side. On top of the ridge, MAJ Biedron discovered some massive boulders and imagined the mountaineering possibilities. He quickly requested that his family back home ship his modest collection of climbing gear including climbing shoes, ropes, carabiners, and harnesses. When the gear arrived, MAJ Biedron started training his teammates to climb cracks between T-walls to familiarize themselves with the equipment and belay techniques. 

Pc: Joseph Stuart

The Club was officially founded when MAJ Biedron and co-founders CPT Armstrong (veterinarian), SGT Johnson (medic), and 1LT McCarthy (ER nurse) returned to the crag for their first outing. SGT Stewart (preventive medicine tech) joined shortly after and became the Club's deputy. We anchored ratchet straps around boulders at the top of the ridge to serve as a static rope. Then, we harnessed up and sunk our full body weight into the rope to test the holding capacity of the boulders, and the static line was solid to a fault. Next, we tested the hand/footholds on the rock face and discovered that "rock" is a generous way to describe this formation—maybe siltstone is more accurate, like a ragged chunk of sedimentary silt and clay. Many seemingly solid holds broke right off in our hands. Climbers who wore T-shirts or shorts quickly regretted their attire as the jagged surface repeatedly abraded their exposed skin. Nonetheless, the climbers put up several routes on their first excursion and were motivated to keep climbing!  

During the early days of the AAAB Mountaineering Club, the crag was laden with trash and debris. We made quick haste of the mess by organizing a work party. In one day, our crew picked up 50 pounds of trash. Since then, we have made numerous improvements to the site. We carved out a trail leading from the base of the crag to the top of the ridge and installed some flat rocks as steps. We dug a fire pit and lined it artfully with rocks. We positioned larger boulders around the fire pit for resting and spectating. We installed several bolts in the rock to practice lead climbing. We scrupulously cleaned and dusted the rock face so climbers don't get peppered with dirt as they ascend. 

We have since dubbed the rock "Canine Crag" because the area is close to a dog den, and we often see Iraqi dogs passing by, traveling in packs of six. In addition to naming the crag, we have also named all eight of our routes. In the tradition of mountaineering, the person who is the first to "on-site," the route gets to name it. The names and naming members are as follows: 

PC: Joseph Stuart

Pelvic Binder - Karen McGrane 

Northeast Face - Griff Biedron 

Bridget Midget - Ryan Johnson 

Dog Leg - Gordon Armstrong 

Bird Sh## Traverse - Joseph Stewart 

Allagash White - Brandon Barnes 

GH - Griff Biedron  

Rabid Otter Ridge - Karen McGrane 

Our club quickly gained popularity through word of mouth and a flyer posted at the gym. Now, our club has garnered a base-wide following! Member participation ebbs and flows, but right now, we have 27 members in the active club and 23 members in our fan club. In addition to climbing on the weekends, we host weekly movie nights on Fridays, where we watch a climbing movie. So far, we have watched Free Solo, The Alpinist, Touching the Void, and The Dawn Wall, among others. We have many goals to keep growing and improving! 

We received the American Alpine Club Live Your Dream Grant. With this grant funding, we hope to purchase more equipment to develop sport lead climbing and install better top roping anchors. We hope to provide a safe and supportive environment for other soldiers to learn the art of climbing and route establishment.

 An Excerpt From a Subsequent Newsletter That Provides a Further Update on this Club's Climbing Activities: 

PC: Joseph Stuart

The AAAB Mountaineering Club has grown in terms of membership and scope of activities. Currently, there are 51 members in the active club and 28 members in the fan club. We advanced from climbing the siltstone rock formation we call "Canine Crag" to climbing a vertical sedimental wall with ice axes. This crazy idea was the brainchild of MAJ Biedron, an avid ice climber, who figured he could keep his ice-climbing skills sharp by training on the tall sediment walls in Iraq. 

Unfortunately, MAJ Biedron already departed Iraq by this time, but MAJ Armstrong and SGT Neiffer spearheaded the creation of an ice axe climbing route on a 50-foot-tall sediment wall.  

For members who had never climbed with ice axes before (most of us), picking up the skill was pretty simple compared to rock climbing. Actually, it was a lot more approachable because although it required some technical skills and endurance, it involved much less strength than negotiating the overhanging cliffs at the rock crag. 

The first few climbers that ascended the route used the adze of the axe (the butt end) to chip out some good foot holds, so it became easier and easier for all the subsequent climbers. Despite the sturdy foot holds and the wall's gentle downward slope, climbers still got to feel the wrist burn that quickly ensued from clinging onto the axe shafts, with the weight of their body suspended on its narrow picks. Climbers ascended slowly and methodically, tapping their picks into the sediment wall until they found secure cracks in the rock. When climbers finally reached the top, they dangled the ice axes from their harnesses and relaxed into the rope as the belayer lowered them 50 feet to the ground. It was an exhilarating experience, for sure! 

An Ultraneering Challenge in the Cordillera Blanca: A Story From the Live Your Dream Grant

Out for a glacier stroll the day before Alpamayo. PC: Nick Nasca

Adapted from the 2023 trip report by Nick Nasca

Mike in a meadow with the Husacaran Massif in the background on our first day in the range. PC: Nick Nasca

In the Summer of 2023, I went to the Cordillera Blanca with my friend and climbing Partner Mike Buyaskas. We were supported by the AAC's Live Your Dream Grant and the Loa Fund. We intended to complete an ultra mountaineering link-up. I spent countless hours researching the terrain via satellite imagery and corresponding internet photos, messaging with Peruvian guides via social media, and reading obscure trip reports I'd found from buried corners of the internet. We planned to pre-stock four camps and make a three-week push, summiting eight mountains along the way. In addition to the mental and logistical prep, Mike and I followed a training program for the six months before our expedition.  

On June 18, we landed in Lima with a ridiculous amount of luggage. One bus ride later, we were in Huaraz packing the bags that would be used for our restocked camps. We hung out around the Andean Kingdom and the Casa de Guias to learn about recent mountain conditions. We soon met Manuel Bernuy Ponte, a young Peruvian guide and owner of Peruvian Climbs. He was our most helpful connection in Huaraz. Manuel made himself and his experience in the range incredibly accessible, giving us an accurate picture of what to expect in the stretches where our route departed from the usual trodden paths of the Blanca. He also helped us secure a driver, safely stash our gear in multiple locations, and find fair prices on bulk supplies we needed.

Chopicalqui

We prepared nonstop for two days, then launched into the range with a plan of acclimatizing and stashing resupplies. We were scouting terrain between Huascaran and Chopicalqui five days later when we decided to adjust plans. A snow bridge had collapsed on Huascaran, killing a guide in the process. The prospect of equipping a ladder crossing was on the table, but there was no telling if or when that would occur. Furthermore, our on-the-ground appraisal found that linking Huascaran and Chopicalqui would require traversing extremely dangerous and highly technical terrain. The conditions that would have allowed for a more reasonable attempt simply no longer exist due to the rapid melt-out in this range. Here, we conceded our first route change, deciding to drop the first leg of our ultraneering challenge and to ration our food to stay longer and make an attempt on Chopicalqui's summit while we were at the moraine camp. 

Nick posing for a sunset picture at Chopicalqui base camp. PC: Mike Buyaskas

Knowing how slowly we moved in our barely acclimatized state, we started from moraine camp at 10 p.m. We plugged along the most extensive glacier we had ever walked on all night until we found ourselves 400 feet short of the summit by sunrise. We had fought the effects of altitude for the entire push when they finally caught up to us in the form of a costly miscommunication, which ended in our rappelling. We broke down our camp that afternoon and hitchhiked back to town by night.  

Quitaraju and Alpamayo

Nick revelling in the sunset and stoke underneath Alpamayos West face. PC: Mike Buyaskas

After a day and a half of rest, we packed enough supplies for a week, intending to climb Quitaraju and Alpamayo. The climb from Moraine camp to the Alpamayo Quitaraju col was strenuous. We climbed two pitches of low-grade alpine ice with heavy packs, which made for a more challenging day than expected. Before we could drop our packs at Col camp that afternoon, a giant ice mushroom cleaved, sending an avalanche careening directly down the runnel that contained our intended climb. These factors combined to make Alpamayo loom in my heart the same way its western face would loom over our tent for the next few days. Unfortunately, the next morning, Mike woke up altitude sick, and we decided to rest instead of attempting Quitaraju. The day after, we climbed Alpamayo. The climbing in the upper runnel was fantastic, and it felt like the whole world rotated on the axis of single moments between swings and kicks. I topped out on the summit ridge, and due to time constraints, we rappelled from there, despite the ridgeline traverse posing no more difficult climbing. 

Rest days

The next day, we got into town, and the day after that, we went for a trail run to celebrate Mike's birthday and take a break from the expedition. We reveled in our further acclimatization and returned to the base of Huandoy and the Pisco refugio, where friends were looking after the bag filled with our first stocked camp. Our ultraneering traverse received the final nail in the coffin when we observed our route up Huandoy's East Face nearly melted out, exposing bands of heinous chossy mixed climbing that otherwise would have been ice and snow. Our route would be too dry when we were poised for a summit attempt. We had yet to make a true summit but now believed ourselves to be acclimatized, so we set our sights on doing Tocllarajus W Face Direct (D+) in a faster and lighter style. 

Tocllarajus

Nick roping up for the hike back from Tocullaraju high camp, The line Nick and Mike attempted on Tocullaraju's W face climbs the icey path directly through the rocky pinch high on the climber's right side of the face.

We approached the base camp in one speedy push the night we returned from our trail run. The next day, we reached glacier camp directly underneath the face. We watched our route for a day and planned a detour from the original line to thread a safer needle between seracs high on the face. We heard the route had just yielded its first successful summit days before, after turning around many this season. We started at midnight this time, and after delicately climbing the giant icey flower petals of the upper bergschrund, we suffered excruciatingly cold and exposed belays up the sheer ice face. About two pitches from the summit ridgeline, as the sun rose, Mike began to feel too altitude sick to continue. Using zero threads, we were able to bail down the face relatively quickly. 

Expedition Changes

Mike had to leave Peru early due to a personal situation developing at home, which greatly limited our options for the remainder of the trip. We now had ten more days, and due to Mike's altitude issues, we eventually settled on a smaller, more technical route. We decided to try what we thought may be an unclimbed line on the south face of Vallunaraju's south summit. It involved 300 feet of 70-80 degree mixed climbing, which gave way to 3-400 more feet of easier mixed terrain. 

Vallunaraju

Nick finding the start of the potential new line we attempted to climb on Vallanaraju Sur. PC: Mike Buyasakas

We attempted the peak in true alpine style, starting from the gate for the national park at the mouth of the approach canyon and going gate to gate. I led an awesome M4- pitch at the start of the technicalities on beautifully striated granite. Still, we again bailed due to dangerous deep-faceted snow lurking underneath trapdoors of semi-firm crust on the upper face. Over the summer, we found that the south-facing slopes were the most likely to have that terrifying, completely unstable Peruvian snow.  

Huamashraju

We had time for one more climb before Mike's departure, and we chose to switch things up and try the classic Sins-Hanning route on Huamashraju. It is a five-pitch 5.9 on a splitter granite wall that finishes up a moderate snow ridge to the summit. We approached in the evening and bivied in a boulder cave at the very base of the route. The rapidly melting glaciers in the Blanca have formed a small pool at the base of the wall, allowing us to advance past basecamp and skip out on melting snow. The following day, we led in blocks, with Mike tackling the delicate slabby corner crux of the lower wall while I got the pleasure of pulling a fantastic roof and bumping our only #4 up the back of the offwidth squeeze pitch. We started simuling when we got up high, and once atop the ridge, we found nothing but smooth low-angle granite for another three rope lengths. These 3 pitches are apparently a new development even compared to just two years ago when it was reported that snow was reached at the beginning of the ridge. We transitioned into our crampons and soloed to the summit. Unfortunately due to a crampon malfunction Mike decided to stay behind and set up our first rappel. The final snow ridge included a 100 foot long steep airy traverse across calf high penitiente.  The Penitiente gave way to a final rope length of easy mixed climbing requiring a couple of easy blocky mantles on rock.  At the top I admired Nevado Huantsan for a moment before turning around to start the descent: a snowy down-climb proceeded by 4 rope stretching double rope 70 meter rappels. One very long hike later, we were back at the trailhead around 11 p.m., where the onset of giardia rocked me the minute I sat down on the side of the road.

Leaving the Andes…

Our driver Freddy, a cousin of our host in Caraz. Freddy enjoys Mountain Biking through the canyons of the blanca, and his company was much appreciated during the few down days we had in Caraz. PC: A Passing Tourist

Mike left the next morning, and after five days of being sick in bed, I finally recovered. For my last adventure in the Andes, I took a long, all-day trail run up a lesser-known Quebrada. I had a hunch of where I might find water ice based on locations where I'd seen some ephemeral smears over the past two months. Right where I was expecting, I found an ice line that was even better than I could have imagined. This line of nearly 1000 ft of steep ice was the best-looking ice climb I'd seen in Peru. There is a small vanishing serac above it, and judging by pictures I found of the same face in 2013, the overhead danger will continue to decrease in the coming years. This experience had me leaving Peru with lots of stoke in my heart for the many lifetimes' worth of adventures to be had here on our planet. Overall, I learned a great deal on this trip. I now understand how to look at prominent, snowy peaks from a distance and estimate where the most sensible weakness may be and what the terrain will entail. I also got my first taste of leading out into entirely unknown terrain and am hooked. 

On the upper slopes of Chopicalqui, shedding layers before continuing the descent. That evening we would make it back to the canyon floor and haggle/hitchhike our way back to Caraz. PC: Mike Buyaskas

In terms of our ultraneering challenge, the goal is still accomplishable. I don't know if I will ever attempt it again. It required massive amounts of logistical challenges as well as blue-collar prep work. I underestimated just how demanding the conditions might be between 8 different mountains. Although all of the routes we intended to climb would go at some point during the season we spent there, being able to climb all of them safely in the same three-week window would be a rare occurrence. If one were to fly off the summits of these peaks using a wing, the ultraneering traverse would become much more feasible and enjoyable. Hopefully, one day, I will get the time and resources to begin learning the art of flying, but I must return to the ordinary world via the booter. Thank you, American Alpine Club, for helping me have a once-in-a-lifetime summer in the Andes. 

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This could be YOU! Apply for the Live Your Dream grant before it closes, on April 30. Don’t wait, your dream expedition is just an application away!

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Queer Mountaineers, Kulshan Climb: A Story From the Catalyst Grant

PC: Sarina Pizzala

Queer Mountaineers is a Pacific Northwest based non-profit that aims to provide community, events, resources, and a safe space for outdoor enthusiasts of all backgrounds, genders, and sexualities. Founders and directors Sarina Pizzala and Jude Glenn had a dream to put on one of the first all-queer climbs of Kulshan (Mount Baker) in the North Cascades.

Kulshan is known as a mountaineering training ground with a relatively straightforward and beginner-friendly approach. They met Jack Bynum at Indigo Alpine Guides, who shared the same passion for creating safe spaces for the LGBTQIA+(Lesiban, Gay, Bisexual, Transgender, Queer/Questioning, Intersex, Asexual) community. Together, the three of them planned a four-day course that would cover basic mountaineering skills with funding from The American Alpine Club Catalyst grant.

Join the Queer Mountaineers for a climb up beautiful Kulshan and read their story below!

CLIMB: Katie Lamb Dives Deep on Her Send of Box Therapy, and Losing Anonymity

In 2023, Katie Lamb sent Box Therapy. It was a definite level-up for her personal climbing, and with this ascent, she became the first woman in history to climb a boulder that many consider to be V16. Her landmark send made waves, and that’s why she is a finalist for the AAC’s Climb of the Year Award. We chatted with Katie about all that went into projecting Box Therapy, her climbing philosophy, how to use excuses to your advantage on bad days, what it was like to lose anonymity, her secret to work-climbing balance, the experience of everyone talking about you on the internet, and being authentic in the current climbing world.

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Learn More:

Learn More about Katie Lamb

See the Other Climb of the Year Finalists

Grab Your Tickets to the AAC’s Annual Benefit Gala

Journey to Mount Ritter: A Story From the Live Your Dream Grant

Provided by: Erik Hamilton

"Throw the damn axe!" I beckoned Alanna as the once infrangible glacial ice deteriorated into slush, quickly becoming a four-inch-deep, wet avalanche under our twelve-point crampons. As the seconds ticked by and dawn grew near, the conditions were growing perilously unfavorable. That morning on the southeast face of Mount Ritter, at 10,600 feet, it took every ounce of practice, patience, and know-how to retreat safely down the mountain."

After receiving the Live Your Dream Grant, Erik Hamilton and his partner Alanna set off on a journey traveling from the forested mountains of the East Coast to the majestic Sierra Nevada’s of California, intent on climbing Mount Ritter. Hamilton reflects on the meditative nature of being in the mountains and what he truly finds important while traveling through the Western United States.

Come along for a scenic ride of Mount Ritter, by reading the story below…

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CLIMB: Babsi Zangerl's Secret to Her Exceptional Yosemite Resume

"I like to suck" Babsi says...and this mentality means she's constantly trying climbing styles and skills that she's bad at. And with that sense of curiosity, she acquires a breadth of mastery that is evident in her Yosemite accomplishments...

In many ways, Babsi Zangerl has flown under the radar here in the United States. She doesn’t like to brag—she just wants to climb hard. But her dedication to climbing has resulted in an astonishing Yosemite resume. She has 6 free ascents of El Cap to her name, including the first female free ascents of Zodiac, El Nino, and Magic Mushroom. In this interview, we talk about some of these iconic climbs, what inspires her and her goal-setting process, how she taught herself to crack climb in Indian Creek so she could climb in Yosemite, the magic duo that is her partnership with Jacopo Larcher, and her perspective on the ground-up ethic of big wall climbing. She also admits to why she’s been avoiding the Monster Off-Width pitch and gives us a hint of her ambitions for future Yosemite trips. Dive into this episode to hear from one of the most accomplished modern Yosemite climbers—and honestly, she’s just getting started.

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Show Notes:

More about Babsi Zangerl

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