AAC Grants

Guidebook XIV—Grant Spotlight

Photo by Charles Denton.

Ascending the Path

A Story from the Live Your Dream Grant

By Charles Denton
Photos by Charles Denton on land of the Yokuts people

We stared out at the treacherous somber surfaces, weathered by wind and storm. The mountains transformed in our minds, revealing an expanse impossible to comprehend. It is upon this sea of summits we desired to stand.

I was born in flatland central Wisconsin, and often biked with my childhood friend Devin Grdinic up the 1.56-billion-year-old, 1,924-foot prominent hill, Rib Mountain, located in our hometown. From the gouged rim of the hundred-foot quartzite quarry, we grew an affinity for mountains, dreaming of summits.

In our early 20s, ambitious and hell-bent, we drove from Minneapolis to Mt. Elbert in a day. Devin did the planning, and I went along. Knowing the importance of acclimatizing but lacking the time, we spent a night in the Never Summer Mountains. With a pound of venison strapped to my chest to prevent the blood from leaking in my bag, we set forth to high camp and shivered through the cold night. In the morning my appreciation of the mountains solidified as I opened the tent to the majestic view.

Over a cup of coffee at a wayside diner a few years later, Devin proposed another scheme—to tag Mt. Whitney, the tallest in the lower 48. Without hesitation, I said yes.

Photo by Charles Denton.

We descended into the smog of LAX and drove north to the Sierra Nevada. Finding residence in Mammoth Lakes, we improved our acclimatization period by visiting the ancient bristlecones of the White Mountains of California.

Parking late in the afternoon on October 7, 2008, we hit the Mt. Whitney Trail with heavy packs. Unbeknownst to us, our map remained in the back seat. We missed the creek crossing at Lower Boy Scout Lake and went off-trail, bushwhacking into the night. Panicked, we trudged over bush and boulders, reaching an icy ledge where my foot slipped and I hung by loosely fitted gloves. Devin instinctively reached with his hiking pole and hoisted me back up. Clearly, my intrepid aspirations were on a slippery slope.

Miraculously finding Upper Boy Scout camp in the dark, we shivered through the night with inadequate sleeping pads as winds battered our tent. In the warmth of the morning, we set off to climb the wrong mountain. Returning to camp, we planned one final attempt before we’d miss our flights. With little sleep, we set off before dawn, reaching Iceberg Lake as Whitney’s east face prominently glowed orange. At the base of the snow-filled Mountaineer’s Route gully, we realized we were a bit over our heads. With blistered feet and tired shoulders, we descended.

Over the next seven years, Devin and I summited Mt. Temple, Mt. Shasta, Mt. Baker, and Mt. Rainier together. In the years between doing Shasta and Baker, I was introduced to technical rock climbing by my close friend Ross Nueske, a serious square-jawed man who wore a mischievous plotting grin. Ross and I enjoyed climbing multi-pitch trad routes, but after a decade of rock climbing, something still felt unfinished. The memory of Whitney taunted me to return.

I purchased an entry permit for the summer of 2020.

While climbing at the North Shore of Minnesota that June, I received a message from Devin. He had been diagnosed with life-threatening leukemia. Complete devastation washed over everyone close to him. I recall sitting by Lake Superior, staring into the empty blue horizon, trying to process the news as waves lapped sorrowfully over the pebbled shore. Dreams of the future in jeopardy, one small dream being Whitney, the gravely worse one—losing my best friend. Life lingered in a fragile balance as we stayed in contact over Devin’s year-long struggle. Through multiple series of treatments that brought him to the brink of death, he ultimately survived, thanks to a miraculous bone-marrow transplant.

In 2023, I purchased another North Fork of Lone Pine entry pass. The new plan was for Ross and me to climb the East Buttress (1,000', 11 pitches, 5.7) on Mt.Whitney. Devin invited his older brother Marcel Grdinic, a chemistry teacher from Chicago, to join him in attempting the third-class Mountaineer's Route. Two months before the trip, I ruptured my right distal biceps tendon while bouldering. Orthopedic surgery was needed, followed by six months of nonuse: no climbing, no lifting, and the struggle to use my left hand for everything.

The trip still went on, albeit with a hiking-only itinerary. Clouds Rest, a famed trail in Yosemite National Park, gave everyone a magnificent view of the Valley.

During my residency of healing, my aspiration for Whitney magnified, growing more prominent in my mind. I applied for the 2024 American Alpine Club Live Your Dream Grant, seeking to achieve this dream. Awarded the grant one year later, Ross and I flew from St. Paul to Reno and met Devin at Lake Tahoe. I held my breath in anticipation for the next complication, as we attempted to complete this chapter in our lives.

Photo by Charles Denton.

Three days were spent acclimatizing above 6,000 feet. Ross and I climbed at Lover’s Leap, completing: Surrealistic Pillar (270', 3 pitches, 5.7), Corrugation Corner (300', 3 pitches, 5.7), and Bear’s Reach (400', 3 pitches, 5.7).

The following day we bouldered a little in the Middle Bliss area. Marcel flew in from Chicago, and the next morning our assembly of four overloaded a rental car, making the rearview mirror pointless, and drove to Mammoth Lakes.

Early Wednesday, we drove to the Lone Pine ranger station, checked in, and completed our packing list with WAG bags. Nothing stood in our way. A phenomenal three-day weather window was ahead.

Hitting the trail at 11:25 a.m. with abnormally warm temps, Ross and I split the gear. We were equipped with a single rack of Black Diamond 0.2–#3 cams, two sets of nuts, a set of tri-cams, a dozen 90cm alpine draws, six 120cm slings, and a 60m rope.

A few hours uphill and navigating the class 3 Ebersbacher Ledges, we took lunch at Lower Boy Scout Lake. Devin and I laughed, reflecting upon our youthful selves, noting exactly where we went astray many years ago. It felt like I was an echo of my past self. Memories of those moments bounced back off the walls around us.

At 4 p.m., we passed the treeline and headed up slabs toward Upper Boy Scout Lake. A mirrorlike lake sat cupped in a vast bowl of mountains, reflecting the blue skies and gray peaks. Fish prodded the calm surface, wrinkling the perfect image.

Photo by Charles Denton.

We filtered water from the lake, made camp before dark, and relaxed into our tents. Night temps felt irregularly high in the lower 40s. Devin slept under the stars while Ross and I, sharing a tent, kept the doors open, allowing a soft breeze inside.

I woke at 4:30 a.m. with little sleep, partially due to Ross’s crinkling sleeping pad, and attempted to wake Devin and Marcel. They gave us an auditory acknowledgment and would be following an hour behind. With headlamps we navigated the remaining 1,000 feet to Iceberg Lake, forever burned into my mind from the first trip. We walked with the rising sun casting fire-orange across Mt. Whitney’s east face, illuminating our route.

An hour behind schedule, Ross and I scrambled the third-class slog from Iceberg to the base of the route. After roping up, I took the odd pitches, and together we navigated the buttress as the landscape below sank farther away. Massive boulders and the lake below became small reference specks lost in the vast gray landscape.

I started the third pitch, a crystalline slab that wouldn’t take much gear, past a smashed old piton and over a few traversing ridges to a cold shaded belay spot. The next couple of pitches took nearly the entirety of the 60m rope, sparing three to five feet. Climbing the ridgeline and passing the massive Peewee rock formation revealed epic views on both sides as the exposure dropped further away. I saw two specks of color ascending the Mountaineer’s Route gully. With my LYD Grant–funded Rocky Talkies, I radioed to Devin and Marcel to check in. They were a third of the way up.

The thin air above 13,000 feet caused us to slow down, stopping to catch our breath even though the climbing was easy and enjoyable. Devin and Marcel reached the summit by 2 p.m. With a celebratory shout, Devin looked over the edge and waved to us three pitches below. Ross took the last push, trying to link pitches as we simul-climbed the meandering bit, but rope drag became strenuous over the puzzle-like terrain. He built an anchor and brought me to the last 5.8 hand-crack roof move. The last few pitches of the East Buttress can range from fourth class, if you go left, to 5.6–5.10, depending on the chosen direction.

We crested the ridge with fist bumps and smiles. After years of chasing the elusive aspiration, my heart filled with satisfaction, achieving what was started so long ago, with so many U-turns along the way. Standing in that sea of peaks, I attempted to memorize the brief moment I had and everything that led up to it.


Get Access to AAC Grants

AAC members are first and foremost connected through our passion for climbing. The AAC’s grants program awarded over $200k in 2023 and is designed to support all members in their climbing pursuits—whether they’re gunning for cutting edge first ascents or everyday climbers seeking out an adventure on their own terms. We also fund research grants, supporting scientific research expeditions that contribute valuable information to our understanding of the world’s mountain ecosystems.


Though Devin and I didn’t stand at 14,505 feet at the same moment, as he and Marcel had already started to descend, we each stood on the summit knowing what it took to be there, and that we accomplished the journey together. For all of us, it was a meaningful experience, and the summit felt more than just a physical place.

In the urgency of approaching night, Ross and I traversed the back side toward the notch and down the tumultuous scree of the Mountaineer’s Route. Two hours later we reached Iceberg Lake, where Devin and Marcel waited. We congratulated each other with a warm embrace and dusty smiles.

Back at camp, in the slow growth of darkness, under headlamps, I lay propped against a rock beside Devin, eating dinner. Slightly nauseous, I continued to sip water, staring at the star-filled sky, taking nibbles of couscous as we chatted. I felt the weight and length of our journey, the immense effort to finally return to this place together. In that moment, content after years of trying and struggle, and indeed with Devin’s survival now resolved, we reflected upon what brought us here, and how cherished it was to share.

In the morning, we broke camp and looked to the future of more dreams and peaks.


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The American Alpine Club Announces 2025 McNeill-Nott Winners

March 2025

The American Alpine Club (AAC) and Mountain Hardwear are excited to announce the 2025 McNeill-Nott recipients. With the untimely death of Sue Nott and her climbing partner Karen McNeill on Sultana (Mt. Foraker) in 2006, the AAC partnered with Mountain Hardwear to establish the McNeill-Nott Award in their memory. This award seeks to preserve the spirit of these two talented and courageous climbers by giving grants to amateur female climbers exploring new routes or unclimbed peaks with small teams.


Heather Smallpage

Heather Smallpage will receive $2,000 to attempt big wall and alpine-style first ascents in a little-climbed region of Baffin Island: Arviqtujuq Kangiqtua (formerly Eglinton Fjord). Natalie Afonina, Shira Biner, Char Tomlinson, and Kaylan Worsnop will all join the expedition, which will be almost entirely human-powered. The expedition team will travel over 250 km by skiing, climbing, packrafting, and walking. The team hopes that this expedition will not only inspire people to see what is possible for female and nonbinary alpinism but also emphasize how increasingly essential and joyous these spaces are in this sport and will tell a story that includes voices that are often quieted or left out of the climbing media.


Allie Oaks (left) and Angela VanWiemeersch (right).

Angela VanWiemeersch will receive $4,000 to attempt to establish a technical line in alpine style on a 5,000-meter peak in the Pamir Alai mountains of Kyrgyzstan. Allie Oaks will join VanWiemeersch on this expedition. Oaks and VanWiemeersch have been growing a long-distance partnership over the last four years and will be doing a training trip in the Canadian Rockies this April. This will be their first big expedition together. 

PC: Robert Taylor


Brooke Maushund will receive $1,000 to attempt to climb and ski unclimbed peaks on the Southern Patagonian Icefield (Hielo Continental) with a primarily female team. Since avalanche forecasting in the U.S. during austral summers, Maushund was driven to extend her winters in the Southern Hemisphere. After spending close to four months skiing in Patagonia last year, starting to learn terrain, snowpacks, and weather patterns, she is excited to continue learning through exploratory skiing in this dynamic, wild environment. 


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


Contact:

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


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About Mountain Hardwear

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


The American Alpine Club Announces 2025 Cutting Edge Grant Winners

PC: Nelson Neirinck

March 2025

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


Kishtwar Shivling. 2023. PC: Vitaliy Musiyenko

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


Michael Hutchins

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


Tad McCrea. PC: Tad McCrea

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


Zach Lovell. PC: Carrie Mueller

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


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

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


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

Contact:

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


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Life: An Objective Hazard

Zach Clanton’s Climbing Grief Fund Story

by Hannah Provost

Photos by AAC member Zach Clanton

Originally published in Guidebook XIII

I.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Photo by AAC member Zach Clanton


II.

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

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

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

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

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

Until the fire.

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

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

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


III.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


IV.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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



Support This Work—Climbing Grief Fund

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


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

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

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

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

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


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.


Support This Work— Join or Give Today

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

CONNECT: Summiting Denali, Living the Dream

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

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


Pay What You Can (PWYC) Toolkit

At the AAC, we believe that addressing equity issues in climbing is not mutually exclusive from best business practices. That is why, in partnership with The North Face, we designed a Pay What You Can (PWYC) toolkit, a free resource for gyms who want to offer alternative payment models alongside—or in place of—traditional membership structures. Although much of our work at the AAC is outdoor-centric, we recognize that many climbers are introduced to the sport through a gym, and therefore a holistic approach to climbing access requires us to consider challenges across the climbing spectrum, including indoor climbing. Our hope is that with our toolkit, gyms can implement sustainable PWYC models that offer a product that is attainable for those in under-represented income brackets, with the added benefit of increasing these gyms’s memberships and maintaining a profitable business.

We examined 47 existing Pay What You Can (PWYC) programs within the climbing gym industry, interviewing 16 program leaders for further study, in order to analyze the viability and best practices of PWYC programs. While PWYC programs take on many forms, they all share an essential goal: to provide financial options for individuals and families who are otherwise unable to afford a gym’s day pass or membership at “standard” rates.

In this toolkit you will find:

  • Analysis of the nine (9) components that comprise PWYC programs

  • Two (2) case studies based on the experience and outcomes of real gyms

  • Insights and Best Practices

  • FAQs

  • Resources, including a grant to support the one-time cost of implementing a PWYC program, a peer-to-peer directory of gyms implementing PWYC programs, and an example application (if the model you are considering utilizes a “proof of need” application).


In the climbing gym industry and looking to start your own PWYC program at your gym? Explore the PWYC grant to get started!


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Climbing Grief Fund Spotlight: Gratitude

PC: Jessica Glassberg/Louder Than 11

Grief, Beauty, and Loss in the Mountains

by Hannah Provost

“When Meg climbs on the Diamond these days, she can’t seem to shake a glimpse of red in her periphery–the color of Tom’s red Patagonia R1 as he climbed with her. When she turns to catch a better look, he’s not there. Tom: her dear friend, who fed a bumblebee on a belay ledge to bring it back to life; who encouraged Meg to lead harder and harder pitches on gear; who introduced her to her husband; who she trusted more than anyone on rock. She wants to turn and see Tom’s red R1 climbing up the pitch behind her. But Tom won’t ever climb the Diamond again.

Meg Yingling is an American Mountain Guides Association (AMGA) rock guide, a lover of the high places, deeply embedded in our community—and intimately aware of the grief that haunts our sport. When she lost her friend, Tom Wright, to a climbing accident in the summer of 2020, her relationship to climbing radically changed—it mellowed and thickened and burst all at once. But thanks to the Climbing Grief Fund Grant (CGF), she was able to get the resources she needed to start processing her grief, her new relationship to climbing, and actively sit with the messiness of it all…”


Read more about Meg’s experiences with both grief and beauty in the mountains:

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.


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


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.


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. 


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.


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. 


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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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.


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. 


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.


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


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


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.


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. 


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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Characterizing the Effect of Elevation on Climate Records in Denali National Park, Alaska 

A Research Grant Report

by: Inga Kindstedt, PhD Student in Earth and Climate Sciences (University of Maine); Liam Kirkpatrick, Dartmouth College '22, PhD Student in Earth and Space Science (University of Washington) 

*This report has been lightly edited for clarity

Our field camp on the summit plateau of Begguya (13,000 ft). Photo credit: Emma Erwin.

The American Alpine Club supports scientific endeavors in mountains and crags around the world through our Research Grants. Landscapes and ecosystems are a vital part of climbing. We believe in the importance of funding projects that enrich our understanding of these places, contribute vital knowledge to the management of climbing environments, and improve the health and sustainability of the climbing community.


Definitions:

  • Ice cores are cylinders of ice drilled from ice sheets or glaciers that are essentially frozen time capsules that scientists can use to reconstruct climate far into the past.
  • Firn is snow at least one year old that has survived one melt season without becoming glacial ice.
  • Isotopes are used to measure past climate properties

Ten miles south of North America's highest peak lies Begguya (Mt. Hunter), or "Denali's Child" in the Dena'ina language. To climbers, Begguya is known for its extremely committing and technical routes; only a handful of teams attempt it each season, compared to the hundreds on Denali. To our team of four researchers, Begguya is also known as the site where researchers recovered two surface-to-bedrock ice cores* in 2013.

The 2013 Begguya cores likely contain at least ten thousand years of the region's climate history, including records of snow accumulation, wildfire, and atmospheric pollution. Still, the interpretation of chemical signals in the ice can be challenging. This information is also supplemented by a firn* core recovered on the mountain's summit plateau in 2019.

Drilling and processing firn cores on the plateau. Photo credit: Emma Erwin.

In May of 2022, our team traveled to the Alaska Range with dual purposes: 1) to recover surface snow samples covering a span of elevations and 2) to recover another firn core from the Begguya summit plateau. We spent the first leg of our season on Denali's West Buttress, ascending to 11,200 ft. On the way, we collected surface snow samples for isotope* analysis. Our goal with these samples was to examine the relationship between elevation and the isotope signal recorded in the snowpack, thereby providing regional context for the isotope signal measured in the Begguya cores.

The climb also allowed us to acclimate before being transported via helicopter to the Begguya summit plateau (13,000 ft), where we spent the remaining two to three weeks of our season. Our objective on the plateau was to recover two 18m firn cores containing a climate record from the past several years, bringing the existing record to the present and allowing us to assess the impact of COVID-19 on atmospheric pollution recorded in the ice. 

Liam’s graduation day on the plateau. Photo credit: Emma Erwin.

During our time in the field, we successfully recovered both surface snow samples on the West Buttress and two firn cores on the plateau. We returned one core intact frozen to Dartmouth College for analysis and sampled the other in the field to transport back melted in vials. It was a remarkably successful field season—we even celebrated Liam's graduation from Dartmouth on the plateau! 

The Dartmouth Ice, Climate, and Environment Lab melted the intact core months after our return from the field. Some measurements (e.g., electrical conductivity, dust) were available in real-time as the ice melted. Both electrical conductivity and dust show distinct seasonal cycles, helping us develop a depth-age scale for the core. However, most of the meltwater was collected in vials, which have been sent to labs across the country to measure a wide range of chemical proxies.

We look forward to receiving back a variety of measurements, which will address topics ranging from pollution levels and sources to wildfire activity to plankton productivity in the North Pacific. 

Learn more about the impact of this research here. 

-Inga Kindstedt


Our fieldwork was conducted on the native lands of the Dena'ina peoples under a Denali National Park permit. It would not have been possible without the support of Denali National Park Rangers and Talkeetna Air Taxi. In addition to the financial support provided by the American Alpine Club, funding for this project was provided by the Sturgis Exploration Fund, the University of Maine Graduate Student Government, Maine Space Grants, the Dartmouth Outing Club, the John Sloan Dickey Center for International Understanding, and NOLS. 

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!

Immaterial Climbing: A Story From the Catalyst Grant

Reported by Sierra McGivney

Photos by Ben Burch

Ben Burch climbing, featured in Immaterial Climbing. PC: Ashley Xu

In the backdrop of Northern Appalachia, Ben Burch (he/they) drove to nowhere. Like most high schoolers, driving was a source of relief and independence in the wake of an angsty breakup. Eventually, Burch needed to stop at a gas station, and the one they picked happened to be next to a climbing gym. Bored of driving aimlessly in their car, Burch wandered inside the climbing gym, opening the door to climbing and its community.  

Burch continued cultivating their passion for climbing in Philadelphia when he went to college. There, he worked with other queer climbers to create PHLash, a community-based, peer-led group that aims to bring together LGBTQIA+ individuals to climb and socialize. Burch found he loved leading and being a part of that community. It was a space that held community and understanding in a sport that traditionally has not always provided that. 

The mood shifted last year when West Virginia attempted to pass a law banning events based around queer affinity. West Virginia is only a stone's throw from Pennsylvania and hosts Homoclimbtastic, the world's largest queer-friendly climbing festival. Burch and his friends found themselves distressed about the status of Homoclimbtastic. This event, like PHLash, had enriched their climbing experience. It kept Burch climbing and invited others into the community. But now, they didn't know if it would ever exist again. Instinctively, Burch thought, I need to document this. 

"I just needed to have something recorded down so people know that this event was here and that we were here," said Burch. 

Their idea was to take photos from affinity groups and events they attended and post them on Instagram to exist somewhere in the ether. On a whim, Burch applied to the American Alpine Club's Catalyst Grant and was chosen. Their photos would no longer live just online but in a physical book: Immaterial Climbing: A Queer Climbing Photography Zine. 

Burch embarked on an East Coast climbing adventure, photographing and memorializing queer events, meetups, and climbers. 

Ultimately, the version of the bill that would outlaw Homoclimbtastic did not pass; however, the bill that did pass put restrictions on queer events. Minors are not allowed to be involved in any way in drag shows in West Virginia, and drag show organizers are responsible for checking the age of attendees. At the Homoclimbtastic Drag Show, participants had to wear a wristband and have their IDs checked. 

Despite the political backdrop, the high-energy drag show and dance party at Homoclimbtastic was one of the most fun nights Burch had in years. For some photographers, when they capture moments through the pictures they take, their memories bend to how they remember them. That night, Burch took a photo of someone dancing surrounded by a bunch of people, all wearing wristbands, and titled it Armbands Around Salamander because the person dancing in the center has a salamander tattoo on their shoulder. This ended up becoming one of Burch's favorite photos in the book. 

"They're really kind of lost in their moment of dance, and for me, even though it is kind of a reconstructed memory, I really think about that dance party as this moment of freedom and expression regardless of the circumstances that were trying to repress that," said Burch.

In the book, Burch focuses on his home base, too. 

One moment stuck out to Burch. A participant at PHLash wearing a Brittney Spears t-shirt said that climbing in Pennsylvania is like Spears' song …Baby One More Time. The rock climbing in the northeast is generally not friendly. Outside of Philadelphia, one of the main climbing areas, Hayock, is home to Solid Triassic Diabase, a type of rock that requires precision on unforgiving edges. Philadelphia feels like a city that embeds grit and determination in its residents, much like the climbing in the area. The lyric hit me baby one more time embodies the rough climbing and the determination of the climbers in the area. 

Photo by Ben Burch

Burch became interested in the idea that the city you're from—not just the culture–is reflected in the climber. In the book's PHLash section, he mixes photos from living in Philadelphia with climbing photos from the meetup. 

Next, Burch changed their aperture, widened their depth of field, and traveled down to Atlanta, Georgia, to the southeast bouldering scene. 

"[Bouldering in the southeast] is truly this perfect marriage of texture and shapes that force precise body positioning and control, mixed with the raw power to get through the fact that they're all just slopers disguising themselves as crimps," said Burch.

There, he participated in a meetup with the affinity group Unharnessed, an LGBT+ and allies climbing club. At this meetup, Burch was more of a wallflower; he had a couple of friends in the Atlanta area but was not a deep group member in the same way as Homoclimbtastic or PHLash. He listened in on the conversation between climbs and found it was not the idle talk that normally existed at the crag. People would talk about the climb or the person climbing, but then the conversation would shift to asking if anyone had extra food to put in the Atlanta community fridge or about the community resources near the gym. He was so struck by how focused the group was on building community through resources and knowledge. 

It reminded him of a quote by bell hooks, "I think that part of what a culture of domination has done is raise that romantic relationship up as the single most important bond, when of course the single most important bond is that of community."

In their portrait section, Burch created a shallow depth of field, softening the background and pulling queer climbers to the forefront. Andrew Izzo is a crusher. He has recently sent Bro-Zone (5.14b) in the Gunks and Proper Soul (5.14a) in the New River Gorge and is a consistent double-digit boulderer based in Philadelphia. He only came out recently and is featured in Immaterial Climbing: A Queer Climbing Photography Zine. Burch thought that taking and publishing these photos of him almost served as a coming-out party. Izzo felt like there was no better way for him to come out. The intersection of being part of the queer community and part of the climbing community showed all of him. "That was a special moment in taking these photos, serving as a space for someone to embrace all of themselves," said Burch.  

Everyone featured in the book's portrait section was chosen for their excellence in community work or climbing. Burch wanted to highlight these individuals who were balancing so many aspects of their identity and achieving so much within the climbing community.

The book revolves around the community Burch is most familiar with—that he could really speak to without fear of misrepresentation. 

"I think all climbers are in constant chase of flow, of that feeling when you are climbing, and it feels like your body is in perfect response to what it needs to do with the rock—this immovable object that you have rehearsed and understood. For me, the East Coast Climbing Scene feels like that state of flow.

“It feels like a place where you are understood, and people know who you are, even without thinking about the larger circumstances. It's this, like, perfect moment of escape in the larger challenge of—to complete the metaphor—trying to finish the climb," said Burch.


More about Immaterial Climbing: A Queer Climbing Photography Zine and Ben Burch (he/they): 

PC: Ben Burch

Burch is a photographer and climber currently based out of Washington DC. Part of queer affinity groups since they began climbing, he wanted to use this zine as a love letter to the spaces that gave him so much. For more of their photography, please follow them @benjammin_burch on Instagram.

Immaterial Climbing is a photography zine which explores the world of queer climbing. Taken over the course of 2023, this book explores meet-ups, affinity groups, and climbers who are creating their own space of belonging. The project features the event Homoclimbtastic, affinity groups Unharnessed and Phlash, as well as portraits of queer climbers. It is a lovely coffee table book, a book to add to your gym's collection, or a reminder that we'll always be here. Grab your copy.

This project was made possible through the American Alpine Club and the bravery of the queer climbing community.

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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Grant Spotlight: The Cornerstone Grant

PC: Grey Satterfield

In this article, writer Holly You Tung Chen captures the energy and effort that goes into sustainably developing a new bouldering area. Thanks to the AAC’s Cornerstone Grant, the Carolinas Climber’s Coalition was able to build trails and develop a parking lot for the McKinney Gap and Weaver Knob boulders. Dive in to hear about the process of discovering the boulders, sending and first ascents, and marshaling resources to responsibly open access to climbers everywhere.