The Prescription—Groundfall

It’s September, and the summer 2026 heat wave is, we hope, over. Now it’s time to get out and climb. As a reminder to both trad and sport climbers, the unthinkable can happen. In the case of this month’s Prescription, a quickdraw came unclipped from a bolt hanger.

Back in 2024, the first time we featured a quickdraw unclipping met with widespread disbelief and skepticism. Similar accidents have happened over the years—in this latest case, in November 2025, a climber clipped the first bolt on a tricky 5.7 and asked her belayer to take while she worked out the moves. She then led on past, slipped, fell, and the draw unclipped, sending her 15 feet to the ground. The climber suffered a torn ACL and MCL and sustained a concussion, but her helmet saved her from more serious injury. Fortunately, she has recovered and is climbing once more.

 In November 2025, the High Wire Crag in Clear Creek Canyon, Colorado, was the scene of a groundfall when a quickdraw unclipped from a bolt hanger. Photo by PeakDreamz.

Ground Fall | Quickdraw Unclipped During Fall

Clear Creek Canyon, High Wire Crag, Colorado

On November 14, 2025*, at 3:30 p.m., a female climber (Climber X, 23) sustained serious injuries after falling 15 feet to the ground. She had been leading Stone Cold Moderate (5.7) at the High Wire Crag in Clear Creek Canyon and had clipped the first bolt with an unextended alpine quickdraw. As she manteled past the bolt, she fell. The draw came unclipped from the bolt hanger and she fell to the ground. The fallen climber’s belayer was Adam Page (23). He wrote to ANAC:

“Another climber led the route and lowered. Climber X got ready to lead the climb. We stick-clipped the first bolt since it was high on the initial overhang. Some entries on Mountain Project describe this section as “bouldery,” “heady,” and harder than the crux of an adjacent 5.9. After tying in, X started up and was having trouble getting past the first bolt and onto the easier slab above the overhang. She hung on the bolt several times before figuring out the mantel moves past the bolt. As her waist passed the bolt, she slipped and fell. As she fell, the carabiner unclipped from the bolt and she fell 15 feet to the ground. She landed on her ankle and then hit her head on the ground. She had forgotten her helmet that day, and I luckily had given her mine to wear.

A friend who was observing called 911. I held X’s head stable until the paramedics arrived about 30 minutes later; it took 2.5 hours to get her into an ambulance. X suffered a concussion, an ankle injury, abrasions, and a torn ACL and MCL that later required knee surgery”

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Analysis

We looked at a photo that we took of her climbing before she fell, and the carabiner was clipped correctly into the bolt. As she was climbing, she moved straight up, with her waist only a few inches over the bolt. For this climb, one starts to the right, moves left, and then passes directly over the bolt for the mantel. After the mantel, you stand up on good footholds above that first bolt and then move left to clip the second. 

I think that as she manteled or as she fell, her harness or body contacted the unextended alpine draw, and that moved the hanger end carabiner in such a way as to open the gate and cause it to unclip. The bolt, carabiner, and sling appeared to be in good condition. 

The next day when I retrieved my gear and re-created the accident, I tested how easily the draw could unclip. It was pretty easy to cause it to unclip. The type of draw—alpine or dog bone—didn’t affect whether it would unclip or not. The bolt on Stone Cold Moderate was a glue-in style. When testing on a more common ASCA sheet-metal hanger, the draw would not unclip for me. 

On a route where a single protection point is critical, it’s worth clipping both ends with a locking carabiner. Also, in this accident, her helmet almost certainly prevented a far more serious head injury. Also, pre-clipping a high bolt is good practice.

(Source: Adam Page and the Editors.)

*This unpublished report describes an accident that occurred at the end of 2025. It is important enough to warrant inclusion in the next edition of ANAC.

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Video Analysis—Bold Unclipped During Fall

Jason Antin goes out to the accident site to explain what we *think* happened. The biggest takeaway is to orient the carabiner's gate AWAY from your direction of travel.

Pete Takeda @pete_takeda, Editor of Accidents in North American Climbing; IFMGA/AMGA Guide Jason Antin @jasonantin; Producers: Shane Johnson and Sierra McGivney @sierra_mcgivney; Videographer: Foster Denney @fosterdoodle_; Editor: Sierra McGivney @sierra_mcgivney; Location: Clear Creek Canyon, CO

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Get Outside Safely—Rescue Coverage

Whether you’re questing off on the twentieth pitch, or checking a landing zone for a boulder, having the AAC’s rescue benefit is a critical step for safety in climbing–ensuring you can find your flow a little more easily knowing we have your back in the case of a medical emergency.

Join the AAC today at the Partner level or higher, and back up your protection with up to $7,500 in rescue benefit and $5,000 in medical-expense coverage. 

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American Alpine Club Launches New Mentorship Program in Grand Teton National Park

Image by Fredrik Marmsater.

The American Alpine Club's Mentorship Program—Alpine Track kicked off its first field module in Grand Teton National Park, bringing eight emerging alpine climbers together with coaches Sam Hennessey and Anne Gilbert Chase for eight days of climbing, technical training, and mentorship in the mountains surrounding Jackson, Wyoming.

Made possible through the support of Arc’teryx and Sterling, as well The Mountain Guides for this first module, the program is provided at no cost to participants, giving AAC members the opportunity to develop advanced alpine skills through hands-on instruction, mentorship, and field experience.

“Everyone is bringing a unique perspective to the table,” said Maia Crichlow, a member of the women’s team. “And getting to actualize dreams—really put words to what I want to do and see it reflected in other people around me—has been so special.”

Image by Fredrik Marmsater.

In this inaugural module, participants focused on building a foundation in multipitch climbing, including gear placement, anchor systems, and descent techniques. They also practiced rock rescue on single- and multipitch routes and learned how to plan for overnight climbing.

Alongside technical training, coaches Hennessey and Chase spent significant time building trust and camaraderie with mentees off the wall at the AAC’s Grand Teton Climbers’ Ranch. After all, an important element of alpine climbing is sharing a meal, reviewing a map, or swapping stories at camp.

“Mentorship is so much of the motivation behind why I climb. I find it really energizing,” said Suraj Kushwaha, a member of the men’s team.

With the first module complete, all eight mentees will return for the program’s second field module in December. The group will travel to Bozeman, Montana, and Cody, Wyoming, to put their developing skills into practice on some of the nation’s best ice climbing terrain.

The Alpine Track is designed as a yearlong progression, with four in-person field modules complemented by opportunities to learn from coaches. Through practical coaching, teamwork, and technical field programs, participants are developing the skills and experience needed to plan and execute technical climbs and trips in alpine environments.

The mentorship program is open to AAC members. Through the generous support of its sponsors, the AAC does not charge a fee for participation in the program, and is able to cover participant lodging during all field modules. Learn more about the AAC’s mentorship program and meet the full team of mentees here.

The AAC Mentorship Program is presented by Arc’teryx, supported by Sterling, and The Mountain Guides supported the Jackson module:

The Prescription—Fall from Ram's Horn Anchor

View of Mt. Diablo, Walnut Creek, CA. Photo provided by Wikimedia Commons.

It’s August, and in a few weeks our goals will probably shift out of the alpine as cooler temps bring relief to what has felt like a global heatwave. For many of us, milder conditions mean sport climbing. Whether revisiting a project or getting some pitches in, safety should always be at the forefront. 

Fall from Anchor | Rope Detached from Open Anchor

Bay Area, Mount Diablo State Park

Safe as it seems, sport climbing demands lowering—a technique that has replaced rappelling as the leading cause of roped climbing accidents. Lowering is almost always entirely equipment dependent. It also involves critical technical steps high above the ground, and almost every fall from the anchor is a ground fall. This month, we look at an accident featured in the 2025 ANAC in which a climber fell while cleaning a toprope anchor at Mt. Diablo, California. She reported the following: 

This ram’s horn anchor on a 30-foot 5.10 called Two for One in Mount Diablo State Park, California, was involved in a near-fatal accident on October 26, 2024. Photo provided by Sean Burke/Kim Harris.

“I was toproping a 5.10a called Two for One (left variation). I reached the anchor to clean the quickdraws. I secured myself with a PAS. I hadn’t seen this type of hardware before, and it was a type that wasn’t fully enclosed—as in the case of a mussy hook. The adjoining link wasn't big enough for me to thread the rope through, so I put my rope across the hardware, stood up to unclip my PAS, sat on the rope, and fell. I have no memory of the fall. I blacked out and woke up in a hospital operating room. 

”I broke my left ulna, two ribs on my right ribcage, part of a vertebra, my sacrum, and the ball joint on top of the femur. My helmet broke, and there was a small gash on the left side of my head. I also hit my left butt cheek, because the nerve endings have no feeling in that area. I had one surgery to cut off part of the fractured vertebra and to drain a hematoma. I was hospitalized for four days.”

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Analysis

My climbing friends and I determined that it was a ram’s horn that I encountered at the anchor. I hadn’t wiggled the rope underneath the (curled) part of the horns that would’ve prevented the rope from slipping out. Either that or, when I unclipped my PAS, the rope came out. I fell 30 feet and rolled a further 10+ feet downhill, along with the rope. It happened quickly, and K (my friend) didn’t see what happened because when I was at the anchor, my body blocked her view. K ran to get cell reception and called 911. Apparently, I was able to answer questions, but today I have no recollection of what I said. (Source: Jenna Chan, Bay Area Climbers Coalition, and the Editors.)

Editor’s note: The ram’s horn is ultimately an open system fixture. While there’s an advantage in having fewer necessary steps to lowering (including untying and retying), ram’s horns suffer from the possibility of unthreading. Two fatalities occurred in Austria—Peilstein (2022) and Martinswand (ca. 2020)—in which the climber’s rope became detached from ram’s horns while rappelling. Confusion can exist on how to use any unfamiliar fixed hardware. This accident illustrates the peril when the anchor hardware’s design attempts to balance convenience and safety. That said, no anchor is foolproof, and no design can negate human error.

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Video—Ram’s Horn Accident Analysis

Here’s what we THINK happened in this 2024 accident in Mount Diablo State Park:

A climber was cleaning an anchor that incorporated a set of ram’s horns, something she’d never seen before. Carabiners might have been blocking the fixture because, in her recollection, the links weren’t big enough to thread her rope through. She put the rope ACROSS the hardware, stood up, unclipped her PAS, sat on the rope, and fell.

Lowering hardware is either closed (rings, quicklinks, chains) or open (ram’s horns, mussy hooks, and—if they haven’t been updated—unwelded cold shuts from the 1990s). Ram’s horns are cheap, easy to install, and fast to use—thread the rope through, no need to untie and retie, and then lower. But as enclosed as they look, ram’s horns are open anchors. In rare cases—standing above the anchor or threading the rope incorrectly—the rope can come out of the ram’s horns.

Video—Using a Ram’s Horn

Most climbing involves lowering, so much so that lowering has replaced rappelling as the probable leading cause of roped climbing accidents. 

This month, we cover an accident in which a climber was cleaning a ram’s horn anchor and threaded the rope incorrectly, which unfortunately led to a ground fall. Fortunately, the climber survived the fall. 

It may seem simple, but when using a ram’s horn anchor, thread the rope through EVERY available horn. Always weight your system before lowering, and when using open anchors, be a pro and keep it low. 

Video Credits: Pete Takeda @pete_takeda, Editor of Accidents in North American Climbing; IFMGA/AMGA Guide Jason Antin @jasonantin; Producers: Shane Johnson and Sierra McGivney @sierra_mcgivney; Videographer: Foster Denney @fosterdoodle_; Editor: Sierra McGivney @sierra_mcgivney

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Get Outside Safely—Rescue Coverage

Whether you’re questing off on the twentieth pitch, or checking a landing zone for a boulder, having the AAC’s rescue benefit is a critical step for safety in climbing–ensuring you can find your flow a little more easily knowing we have your back in the case of a medical emergency.

Join the AAC today at the Partner level or higher, and back up your protection with up to $7,500 in rescue benefit and $5,000 in medical-expense coverage. 

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The Prescription—Fall From Anchor

It’s July, and we’re in high summer, with long days out in the vertical enjoying the season. Recently, we had a request via Instagram to visually demonstrate the mechanics behind a fatal lowering accident that took place in 2024 and was documented in the 2025 Accidents in North American Climbing.

Details came to us through a third-party report sent via our online report form. The correspondent did not want to be identified, but they provided the location, date, name of fallen climber, name of belayer, cause of accident, and other details. As they summarized: “Inexperienced climber (Claire Amiel) may have been cleaning an anchor which was beyond her skill level (and) tied in with a non-traditional knot [identified as an alpine butterfly], which became confusing when clipping mussy hooks.”

The published report and analysis appear below. The lessons here are to stick with simple tools and techniques, and practice skills—like cleaning and lowering—while still on the ground. If you’re the expert in the group, take extra-good care of your partner/s. They are looking to you for guidance and safety.

Jason Antin demonstrating one misstep from this month’s accident. See the full breakdown in July’s video analysis.

Fall From Anchor | Unfamiliar Knot

Queen Creek, The Pond

On January 30, Claire Amiel (34) fell while cleaning an anchor on a sport route at The Pond area in Queen Creek, Arizona. The fall resulted in her death.

According to a source who wishes to remain anonymous, Amiel was the less experienced of two climbers in her group. The anonymous source wrote ANAC: “Claire fell from the top of a route while cleaning the anchor. It's rumored she was tied into an alpine butterfly knot. After clipping the mussy hooks, she weighted the wrong side of the butterfly knot.”

The alpine butterfly is useful for glacier travel, but is not a standard rock-climbing knot. StromBer | Wikimedia

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Video Analysis

Pete Takeda and Jason Antin are back to explain an accident involving cleaning a top-rope anchor with mussy hooks. The catch? The climber was using an alpine butterfly tied to the middle of a full-length rope and clipped into the anchors with the wrong side of the rope. Tragically, the fall was fatal. This climber was less experienced than their partner and trusted that this was best practice in climbing. 

When it comes to cleaning anchors, keep it simple, check your systems, and practice a lot before taking it 100 feet off the ground

Video Credits: Pete Takeda, Editor of Accidents in North American Climbing; IFMGA/AMGA Guide Jason Antin; Producers: Shane Johnson and Sierra McGivney; Videographer: Foster Denney; Editor: Sierra McGivney; Location: Accessibility Crag, Clear Creek Canyon, CO

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Analysis

For most rock climbing, the choice of an alpine butterfly is unusual. John Godino at Alpinesavvy.com wrote ANAC, “The butterfly is generally not a standard beginner climbing knot. It is almost always used for glacier travel to tie in the middle climber to the middle of a rope. Rock climbers almost always tie into the end of the rope, especially when top-roping in a sport area.”

Had Amiel been using a mid-rope alpine butterfly knot, it would have created two lengths of slack rope extending from both ends of the knot. Though both sides would have appeared nearly identical, only one would have been belayed. Amiel may have top-roped up to the anchor, clipped the unbelayed strand into the mussy hooks, and then fallen to the ground. 

In general, climbers of limited experience or those transitioning from the gym to the outdoors are especially vulnerable when cleaning anchors. The use of unusual or unfamiliar knots, gear, or systems in critical situations like lowering/cleaning is very dangerous. 

Godino adds, “I would love to see ground-level anchor stations near beginner areas or on the approach trail. This would provide beginner climbers a place to practice clipping and cleaning, before they get on the rock.” (Sources: Anonymous, John Godino, and the Editors.)

Editor’s Note: We published this report in 2025. A good point has been made that any knot—like a figure 8 on a bight—might lead to the same result if used as a mid-rope tie-in/clip-in point. The butterfly knot is less a culprit than the location where it was tied.)

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The Prescription—Leader Fall on Rock

It’s May and we’re fully into the spring season. We have the first installment of a two-part series that demonstrates what to do if the leader falls and is knocked unconscious. It is not an uncommon scenario as we see in an accident we reported in the 2025 ANAC. 

This accident took place in November 2024, when a climber was leading the overhanging second pitch of a route in Red Rock Canyon, Nevada. This climber fell and was knocked unconscious and ended up hanging above and out from the wall. As you’ll read, this story has a happy ending because of well-informed and decisive action by the belayer.

Red Rock Canyon lies just outside the Las Vegas metropolitan area. This proximity belies the remote wilderness setting in which rescues are often complex and hazardous. BLM Nevada.

Leader Fall on Rock | Protection Pulled Out

Red Rock Canyon National Conservation Area, Oak Creek Canyon, Black Orpheus Amphitheater

On November 10, I, Eric Chaudhary and a partner (male, 26) were climbing Marijuana (5 pitches, 11c) in the Black Orpheus Amphitheater. He was leading the second pitch (10b). It exits hard left off a hanging belay with one bolt for protection about six feet above and ten feet to the left of the belay. The route then cuts back right to a roof/bulge move where I believe he placed a BD #0.3 Z4 cam. 

He did the move, mantled up, and was getting his stance when his foot slipped and he fell. The piece in the roof ripped, causing him to fall about six feet directly onto the rope which was clipped to the first bolt. His ankle caught and flipped him aggressively. The first thing that struck the wall was his head. He was wearing a helmet. 

He was unconscious and was hanging upside down approximately ten feet to my left and four feet above me. I lowered him to a small ledge that flipped him upright. He was now level with me. I then tied off the rope and broke the belay. I called 911 (spotty reception) and relayed our location. I then yelled to a party of hiker/climbers at the base of the canyon. I informed them we needed helicopter rescue and that I was not sure if EMS had received my location.

I then attended to my partner and basically lassoed him with a coil of rope and pulled him to me at the belay. Around then he started regaining consciousness. I secured him to the anchor, untied him, and set-up a rappel. I rapped to the base of the first pitch with him attached to me. Luckily, we had twin 60m ropes. 

At the actual base of the climb there is one belay bolt, but unfortunately it was too high to utilize. I built a two-piece gear anchor to descend a 150-foot section of low 5th class slab that comprises the approach to the first pitch. As we were rappelling, a SAR member yelled from the base of the canyon. I told him my partner was in and out of consciousness and we needed helicopter rescue. I finished the rap to a large ledge system. Five minutes later a helicopter arrived. They flew out my partner, then returned for a SAR team member and myself. 

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Video Analysis

Here's the scenario: Your climbing partner took a leader fall, they are unconscious, and unresponsive.

What do you do?

In this video, Jason Antin shows you ONE way to rescue an unconscious leader while on a multi-pitch climb. We recommend taking a course with an IFMGA/AMGA guide to learn more about rock rescue.

Credits:
Pete Takeda @pete_takeda, Editor of Accidents in North American Climbing; IFMGA/AMGA Guide Jason Antin; Producers: Shane Johnson and Sierra McGivney; Videographer: Foster Denney; Editor: Sierra McGivney; Location: Boulder Canyon, Boulder, CO

In this month’s featured accident, a climber was knocked unconscious while leading a second pitch. His partner swooped into action, effecting a self-rescue, and getting them both safely off the wall.

Jason and Pete are back to share knowledge about what to do if your leader is knocked unconscious.

Video Credits: Pete Takeda, Editor of Accidents in North American Climbing; IFMGA/AMGA Guide Jason Antin; Producers: Shane Johnson and Sierra McGivney; Videographer: Foster Denney; Editor: Sierra McGivney; Location: Boulder Canyon, Boulder, CO.

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Analysis

I inspected the cam that blew, and it had a gouge in two of the lobes. The next party to climb the route retrieved our bail anchor. I was told that the spot where the piece had blown had no fresh scar. I’m still not sure why it didn't hold and hope to climb the route again to inspect it. (Source: Eric Chaudhary.) 

Editor’s Note: It was fortunate that Chaudhary was very competent and effected an efficient self-rescue. Had he not descended to a helicopter accessible area, the rescue might have taken many hours longer—sunset was 4:30 p.m. Though close to Las Vegas, Red Rock is a remote venue and climbers should consider carrying an emergency satellite communication device. 

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An Interview with ANAC Editor Pete Takeda

ANAC Editor Pete Takeda on set for a Prescription shoot in Boulder Canyon, Colorado. Photo by AAC member Foster Denney.

Originally published in Guidebook XVII.

Photo by AAC member Foster Denney.

AAC: Describe the scope of the work that goes into making Accidents in North American Climbing [ANAC].

Pete Takeda: The scope and the type of coverage we do have expanded over the years. It’s not just a print publication anymore, where we analyze accidents from across the continent. It’s also the monthly email, called The Prescription, that delves into one of the accidents from that year’s book, repackages it, and adds related resources. Now we’ve also brought in the video component, with me as the on-camera personality, plus IFMGA/ AMGA guide Jason Antin and how he recommends folks avoid the accident we’re analyzing.

So as an editor, I have to change hats a bit. I kind of hate being the on-camera personality. But I see it has an impact, and so whatever I feel about it is irrelevant because it serves the community.

Another new exciting thing is working with Dr. Valerie Karr, a professor who studies human behavior across many complex environments, who came out of the blue and scanned and made searchable every physical copy of ANAC dating back to 1948. We can now respond to legitimate, official queries for data.

Dr. Karr has also brought forward a framework for examining human factors in accidents. In other words, how you feel, what you’re thinking, your background, what you’re doing and experiencing in the moment, and how those all can lead to accidents and also influence the outcome. For example: I was distracted, or I was thinking about my dog, or someone asked me a question. It’s just basic things like that every climber can relate to. You can read about some of her initial findings in this year’s book.

So, we’re no longer just addressing the mechanics of the accident: My carabiner came undone, or the rope was running over the edge, or I placed a cam and it blew. It goes beyond just these technical aspects.

AAC: What’s the history of ANAC?

Pete: First, it was simply a report from the AAC Safety Committee, starting in 1948. In 1952 they settled on calling the annual book Accidents in North American Mountaineering. The person who really evolved it into what it is today is Jed Williamson, a past president of the AAC and the editor emeritus on the masthead of ANAC. He steered the direction of ANAC, as a volunteer, for 30 or 40 years. He’s the one who established this current format and managed to source information from all these different reporting sources, like federal rangers, SAR teams, and individuals.

In 2016 the name changed to Accidents in North American Climbing, [to reflect the fact that] we as climbers really would not self-apply the term “mountaineer” to what we do 99 percent of the time.

Pete Takeda highball bouldering in the Peruvian Andes. Photo provided by Pete Takeda Collection.

AAC: What’s a unique challenge you’ve faced while compiling and editing ANAC?

Pete: Figuring out how to accurately portray such technical concepts is always a challenge. You really have to partition your mindset, just like you do in the disciplines in climbing. Some things work in the print realm. Some things work in the digital realm. Some things work in video.

With a print publication, you’re combining imagery with graphics and words. Between those three things, you should be able to allow people to view the material, read the material, and come away with as comprehensive and as fact-checked a report as they can. And that’s something that really sets us apart: We actually check facts.

Of course, it is challenging to create a graphic that matches the nuances of how a knot came undone or how a carabiner unclipped, but we have excellent designers on our team. [Another] major hurdle I have is acquiring photos for every accident, either of the accident scene or showing the mechanics of the accident, the routes, the area, etc. People on Mountain Project have been very generous in donating their photos.

The purpose of all this material is to evoke questions. You can usually tell how successful you’ve been by the questions that people write on social platforms or via email. That’s [certainly] the case with the Prescription videos—and, if someone wants to dig more, they can always look in the book or get on the AAC website and look up the accident.

The ultimate thing is for people, regardless of experience level, to think about what they do in the light of understanding the mechanics and mindset that create any accident situation. I hope the analyses always get people thinking: What can I do that might encourage an accident? What do I do that might encourage me to be safer and more accountable to all those people around me? That’s definitely the culture in backcountry skiing, but I don’t see that same culture universally in climbing.

Once you bring humility to reading these reports, and self-analyze, you can start being accountable to safety for yourself and, more importantly, safety for others.

I guess that’s the challenge of the human race: Have some humility, get out of your f@#$ing head, and start f*&%ing thinking about the impact and effect you’re having on yourself and others. If everyone did that, you know, now that would be a utopian society—but that’s another story.

AAC: Is there an example accident report that was especially standout for you from the 2025 ANAC?

Pete: There was the anchor knot coming undone in Yosemite: The individual attempted to tie a BFK but instead tied a slipknot. And I can totally see that happening to anyone.

Another involved someone I knew—Robbi Mecus, who was a correspondent with ANAC from back East. She died in a fall [during a descent] in the Ruth Gorge, Alaska, and her partner survived despite critical injuries. That one got to me because there’s a person who really does everything right and is super aware of the hazards, yet still perishes.

I think the takeaway is that climbing is dangerous. It can be fun; it can be joyous; it can be an athletic thing where you share these moments with your friends—and it should be. But there are times when we have to remind ourselves that this is dangerous. There are things at stake.

Pete Takeda on Nanda Devi, India. Photo provided by Pete Takeda Collection.

AAC: Any others?

Pete: One I found really, really interesting was a ground fall in Mission Gorge, San Diego. It’s really slick crack climbing on granite. These cracks often collect fine dust. Someone was leading a pitch and using hard aluminum Camalots—like, first-generation or second-generation ones that were 30 years old. And they were using super-unstable second-generation Metolius TCUs. This person had multiple pieces pull just by taking.

This climber is just doing their thing; nothing should go wrong. And suddenly all these pieces are blowing out. Apparently, the day after, someone suffered the same thing [on an adjacent climb].

It’s a combination of the dust and the crack, the slick rock, the hard, thin cams. You know, you might’ve done your hardest send in 1990 on this gear. [But now,] there’s no reason not to replace your gear. Because every so often something bad happens, like someone has a really worn Grigri and they partner up with someone who has one of those super-slick, ultra-skinny ropes. You know, there’s nothing wrong with this, but there’s also nothing right with it, especially when you lose control of the rope and your partner falls and hits the ground.

Finally, some people really pooh-poohed the reality of the knee-stuck-in-an-offwidth video we made. Sure enough, I got two accidents reported where that happened in 2025. And, for the 2026 book, and I kind of predicted this, but man, someone got stuck in an inversion offwidth. With that scenario, the clock is ticking, and you will die from hanging upside down from one knee, unable to move. The blood goes to your head; you suffocate. Stay tuned for that story in the 2026 book. [Editor’s Note: The climber survived!]

AAC: What parts of your specific climbing background inform your editorial vision?

Pete: The length and breadth of my climbing career is the single strength I have. I started as a boulderer, then we developed into top-ropers, and then we got into leading. Then we got into bolting. And then I moved to Yosemite and got into big-wall climbing—a lot of aid, speed ascents, so on. Then got into ice and mixed climbing; competed; got into pure ice; low-altitude alpinism. Then alpine rock, all that stuff, and then Himalayan alpinism and Alaskan alpinism.

So, along that path, I’ve either had the mishap, witnessed the mishap, had a close call, or nearly died in the same ways that people report. I understand the mindset. And I also understand, from having friends die or almost getting killed or being party to an accident, what it’s like being the partner involved.

I bring all that skill and experience into my tone and the way I treat people with whom I have a dialogue. I think that really informs things, because I’m really nonjudgmental. And you learn, like, Wow, I could do everything right; I could be minding my own business, and still get killed.

For longevity, we have to be taking what we know and giving it to other people without any thought of recompense. That’s the final stage in a climber’s evolution. At the same time, still burn your friends off and tick that next box. That’s all part of the game.

AAC: What have you learned about the emotional side of accidents from talking to so many accident witnesses and survivors?

Pete: Whenever there is an accident, especially a really serious one, we walk away as observers or participants with some degree of survival guilt. This is as old as time itself.

People often go straight to: How could I have prevented this? And right there is a mistake.

It was an accident. It was something that was unintentional. You don’t wake up in the morning and go: God, I really hope my climbing partner takes a big whipper today and breaks both legs. That would just make my day. I usually bring people back to that. Just think about what you were thinking the morning of the accident. That’s the truth of the intentions there. There’s always a presumption within humans that we can control things that we [can’t].

On a final note, I think the people who really walk away with a positive experience from accidents are the SAR folks who go in and do the job they’ve trained to do, or the volunteer rescue people—they get to practice their skill set and actually have a happy ending to the story when they save someone.

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Elsewhere: The Problem of Human Waste Management in the Wilderness

A Profile of AAC Member Geoff Hill

By Hannah Provost

Originally published in Guidebook XVII.

It wasn’t the first time, nor would it be the last, that Geoff Hill had chopped up frozen human waste—overflowing from a 200-liter barrel. He was a graduate student at the University of British Columbia (UBC), studying the effects of climate change in the Canadian Arctic. The university had arranged a deal with the Inuit whose land he was standing on. The students could conduct research there, but they could not leave any trace, including human waste—hence the chopping.

All around him, the Arctic gleamed in shades of dense ice, the ocean a penetrating blue. Below the tundra, in a hole, out of sight, was where the research team kept the thing no one ever talks about: a frozen bucket of human waste, a.k.a. a “sh*t barrel,” as Hill often calls it. Tucked away. Put elsewhere.

And that’s the trouble. In a wilderness like the Arctic, there is no elsewhere.

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As a climber who fell in love with alpine rock, Hill has spent much time on the road driving toward his next climbing destination. He learned quickly that what he loved most was swimming through a 5.10 hand crack high on a steep, sunny wall. That lifelong thirst for high-country granite would bring him to many wild places, including Mt. Barrill in the Ruth Gorge, El Cap, the Bugaboos, and Mont Blanc’s aiguilles. An epic during an alpine climb in the Canadian Rockies in 2004 spurred him to start reading Accidents in North American Climbing, and he would continue engaging with the AAC throughout his climbing career—for the rescue benefit, community, and research grants that would, in turn, help catalyze his calling.

His passion for these alpine landscapes was boundless, but Hill’s educational path in environmental science was bringing him up against the reality of outdoor recreation’s environmental impact. He wanted to do something about it.

Hill began with driving, launching the Biodiesel Project at UBC, which added sodium hydroxide and methanol to a vat of recycled cooking oil to create an alternative to diesel. “It was fun and dangerous in the beginning,” he recalls. “The pH is crazy. Like, if it splashed in your eye, for sure it would have dissolved a hole in your eyeball.” But it worked. He would fuel up his 1993 Volkswagen Jetta with this biofuel and hit the road to Canmore, Squamish, and even Yosemite. He would later teach some Yosemite rangers how to run their own trucks on biofuel from their waste kitchen grease.

Called by the mountains, Hill toyed with becoming an ACMG Guide (the AMGA equivalent in Canada), but when he failed his exam, he realized his heart wasn’t in it and that he’d rather serve the mountain environment itself—not clients.

Funded by Canada’s Natural Sciences and Engineering Research Council (and an AAC Research Grant), Hill started ringing up the rangers and national park personnel he’d worked with during his previous studies and guide training. He wanted to study the alpine environment in a way that would produce practical results: What did they need help with?

Geoff Hill installs a urine-diverting conveyor-belt toilet system at Rocky Mountain National Park.

Again and again, the National Park Service spoke to the problem of human waste management. Tara Vessella, who runs the backcountry program in Rocky Mountain National Park, spoke of the ongoing struggle to find new land for pit toilets. As Hill recalls her saying, “I cannot find a spot in the forest to put a new pit toilet because every time I dig a hole in the ground, I find old sh*t.” The pit-toilet model, so ubiquitous in the United States, wasn’t sustainable for backcountry landscapes with such intense visitation numbers. So Hill, recalling his frozen-waste-chopping days, embarked on a PhD that would make everyone else’s “business” into his business.

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Humans expel feces and urine daily—what we term “waste” when it’s not well integrated into the ecosystem, especially our poop. Yet when we look at the terms more commonly used for animal poop—dung, scat, droppings, guano—the “waste” subtext is absent, revealing a bias toward thinking that human excrement is dysfunctionally related to the natural environment. But Geoff Hill believes it doesn’t have to be that way.

The science is pretty straightforward: Human urine (and all mammal urine, for that matter) is excellent plant fertilizer. Meanwhile, human poop is food for invertebrates and microorganisms—in fact, in the process of eating mammal poop, microorganisms produce rich organic matter that makes for fertile soil.

We’ve evolved to be part of our ecosystem. As Hill puts it, “[We’re] no different than a buffalo running around, dropping a dump on the prairie.” But the problem comes at scale, and when these streams mix.

As Hill relates, “[Waste] became a problem when we moved into castles from nomad culture. It’s concentrated there; it’ll breed bacteria. People got really sick. Black plague. So, got to get it out of the castle. We [then] try putting it in buckets and sloshing it out onto the street.... More black plague. So, get it in the river. But there’s no sense in having a bucket of poo and a bucket of pee if you’re just going to put it in the river, so put it in one bucket intentionally—that’s the toilet.”

Continues Hill, “And from a human health perspective, it is one of the great inventions of all human time. Add to it flushing water and a waste water-treatment plant, so you’re not polluting the river, and you have this whole paradigm of human waste going together in a single-hole toilet and getting flushed downstream to be managed elsewhere.” This paradigm, so dominant in the Western world, doesn’t transfer well to the alpine, however, where there really is no “elsewhere” and where the single-hole toilet is in fact part of the problem.

With no plumbing and waste-removal being exceedingly expensive in such remote locations, the pit toilet—burying it and forgetting about it—has become the common solution. But when human urine and excrement are stored together, like in a pit toilet, urea—the main chemical constituent in urine—will rapidly oxidize into ammonia. And ammonia is toxic: It smells bad, and the invertebrates and worms that would normally happily eat mammal waste, catalyzing its decomposition, say no thanks.

In 2000, the EPA banned the creation of new large-capacity cesspools (which include many pit-toilet designs), “because untreated sanitary waste from cesspools can enter ground water and contaminate drinking water sources.” Between the ammonia toxicity, Vessella’s testimony about running out of land for new pit toilets, and the EPA ban, it was clear that what Hill was hearing from the rangers was rooted in very tangible problems.

At first, Hill was tempted to believe that composting toilets could be the solution. But as he researched and tested the output of various models installed in national parks, he repeatedly found grim results. Because these toilets required the introduction of dry goods like wood shavings for their “composting” process, they added volume. Moreover, they weren’t actually creating compost—with the amount of excrement added daily, the process for turning the results into safe fertilizer was too slow, plus most parks had to remove the waste anyway, instead of reintroducing it back into the ecosystem, because the composted waste didn’t meet federal safety standards for fertilizer.

Hill eventually found himself in France, looking at a conveyor-belt toilet. This model took the science seriously and did one major thing differently: The conveyor belt diverted the urine so that the combination of waste products wouldn’t create ammonia, leaving the worms and nematodes to gobble up the solids. And the design was feasible without running water—after a user does their business, urine is directed to the ground via grooves in the conveyer belt, while the inclined conveyer belt carries away the solid waste thanks to a few steps on a mechanical foot pedal. Once it’s in the storage container for solids, worms happily munch away. The example toilets Hill saw in Europe barely needed attention from their technicians, even after years of use, simply because the system was functioning properly, resulting in a significantly lower volume of end product.

He quickly licensed the use of these robust, reliable, stainless steel, urine-diverting conveyor-belt toilet seats from Emmanuel Morin, the industrial designer who designed and sold them through his company Ecodomeo, and started using them in toilets across the Americas. Hill’s business, Toilet Tech, was born.

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Through Toilet Tech, Hill has outfitted over 400 remote sites, from Alaska’s Wrangell–St. Elias National Park and Preserve and Glacier Bay to Los Glaciares and Torres del Paine in Argentina and Chile, respectively. You can also find Hill’s creations at Smith Rock and Angels Landing in Zion, where desert environments also make human waste management extra tricky. In fact, Hill’s toilet technology might be the most efficient and cost-effective solution for any public-use toilet that isn’t incorporated into existing municipal sewage structures.

However, the US Forest Service, BLM, and National Park Service move slowly, and often don’t have the funds for a new system, regardless of how badly they need it or how well it works. But despite these constraints, many enterprising NPS staff have partnered with Hill to implement this new vision of waste management in the backcountry—at Mt. Rainier, Rocky Mountain, Zion, and other national parks.

Ultimately, Hill isn’t making a crapload of money on this endeavor—it’s a side quest at best. Yet Hill’s passion for eco-forward innovation and deep knowledge of composting continue to motivate his work at Toilet Tech and his salaried position as head of science at Earth Funeral, a company that specializes in an environmentally friendly alternative to burial and cremation that uses a 30-day process to transform a body into nutrient-rich soil. Hill’s love for alpine granite remains undimmed as well, and has inspired a new dream that involves figuring out how to clean up water bodies in the alpine—he envisions a world in which climbers can hike up to alpine ascents with a teacup, no filter needed.

Though most of us climbers can’t do much more than incorporate good WAG bag etiquette into our climbing ethics, it’s inspiring to know that some climbers are using their expertise to move the needle on the infrastructure that supports our outdoor recreation. Perhaps someday soon those outdated pit and composting toilets at your local area will be replaced by one with conveyor belts, all thanks to Geoff Hill.

Beyond all this, Hill’s story also helps us shift a common paradigm: What would it mean to interrogate the things that we, as a community, let disappear into the elsewhere—that we bury and don’t address? Whether it’s our excrement, the way we interact with and support (or don’t support) each other, or our relationship with fear and risk tolerance, sometimes it’s worth taking a page out of Hill’s book and uncovering the stuff put elsewhere.

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The Prescription—Ground Fall

It’s February, and yours truly is bouldering in sunny Hueco Tanks, Texas. I was reminded a few weeks ago that all climbing is not without risk, when a close friend fractured his ankle bouldering in the park and had to be extracted by SAR. The situation was compounded when a rescuer fell off the low-fifth-class approach and also required extraction.

This accident, like the one featured below, happened despite the fact that everyone was playing by the book. In the accident below, two apparently textbook cam placements failed when the leader applied body weight to the top cam on a lead of a slippery granite crack. More serious injury was prevented because the climbers in question had built a solid belay anchor on the ledge below, and the leader and the belayer were both wearing helmets. Still, this is a case in point that you can do everything right and still end up in the hospital. 

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The Metolius TCU is an old version with all cam lobes an equal width. Later, the single middle lobe was widened to provide more opposing surface area. The U-stem Black Diamond Camalot Junior is from the mid-1990s. This version’s cam lobes were fabricated from very hard 7075-T6 aluminum—a material implicated in several incidents in which the cam lobes tracked out of apparently perfect placements. Both models of gear have been improved over the decades and form the backbone of many standard trad climbing racks.

Ground Fall | Multiple Pieces of Protection Pulled

California, San Diego, Mission Gorge

On May 18, 2024, at about 10:40 a.m., my climbing partner and I prepared to climb Gallwas Crack (5.9) at the Main Wall of Mission Gorge in San Diego. Another friend was with us for his first outdoor climbing session. The three of us had already warmed up.

Access involved scrambling eight feet up to a large, flat ledge, then up and over to another ledge at the base of the route. This ledge was big enough to not worry about falling off, but there was a risk of the belayer getting pulled off if the leader fell before placing any gear. We all wore helmets and were very safety focused.

The ledge was 40 feet above the trail. We built a three-piece gear anchor to secure the belayer (me), and our other friend sat untethered on the large ledge below and left. Gallwas Crack looked challenging, with slippery rock, but my climbing partner had led higher-rated climbs at similar areas, so I thought it would be possible, though perhaps at his limit. There appeared to be plentiful gear placements.

He racked up and we did thorough safety checks. He got up a short fourth-class ramp to a secure stance and put in a No. 0.5 Camalot, clipped with an alpine draw. He climbed to where his feet were level with the first cam and placed another, then climbed to where the second cam was at his waist and placed a third cam.

When the third cam was at his waist, he paused to figure out the move, then yelled, “Take! Take! Take!” I pulled in a couple of arm lengths of slack as fast as I could. The rope started becoming taut just before he fell, but it never became completely tight during the fall. I did not get pulled toward the wall as one would expect. The highest (third) piece pulled immediately, and he continued falling. The second piece also pulled as he rotated backward and began falling headfirst. The first piece caught him. I don’t remember being pulled by the rope despite the fact that he fell 30 feet total, past the ledge, and ended hanging upside down, about 30 feet above the trail.

He was not moving. Our other friend yelled, “He’s bleeding out of his right ear.” I can't recall the sequence, but someone yelled to ask if they should call 911. I asked our other friend to attend, since he had emergency medical training. I slowly lowered my partner as he was pulled over to the large ledge. As I was lowering, his body shook for a few seconds. On the flat ledge, he had a pulse and breathing was heavy. I called 911 at 10:56 a.m. and learned that someone else had already called in.

I clipped my climbing partner into the anchor so I could be freed up to help. I held his head, and he’d periodically sit up and moan, then lie back. We tried to keep him down, and he would tell us to stop touching him. A woman with emergency medical training came over and did a good job helping us all stay calm. She confirmed that my climbing partner could respond to his name, by turning his head. A helicopter arrived, lowering a paramedic with a radio and litter, who assessed his condition. The paramedic tried to place a neck brace, but my climbing partner refused it. When we got the brace on, he immediately took it off. Eventually, he was put on a litter and flown to a trauma center. It was less than an hour after he’d started the climb.

One of the pieces that pulled was a No. 3 (orange) Metolius TCU. The plastic trigger-wire guide on a green (No. 0.75) Camalot was tweaked, so this was probably the other pulled piece. I’m not sure which one pulled first. My climbing partner suffered a severe traumatic brain injury, but he made it through emergency surgery and has mostly recovered.

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Video Analysis

Accidents in North American Climbing Editor Pete Takeda and IFMGA/AMGA guide Jason Antin are back at North Table Mountain in Golden, CO to analyze this accident.

They break the accident down into things that could be improved and things that were done really well. Watch the video for a visual analysis.

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ANALYSIS

What went right: I was anchored, so I couldn’t get pulled off the ledge when my partner fell. He was wearing a helmet, which probably saved his life. It’s good that we had a third person there, because he was able to respond quickly and help save our friend’s life. We've been able to talk about what happened and support each other. (Source: Anonymous.)

*Editor’s Note: A climber posted on Mountain Project that, in Mission Gorge, “two separate near-fatal accidents” involving cams pulling out occurred in 2024—one on May 18 (Gallwas Crack; described here) and the other on May 19 on the adjacent Nutcracker (5.9+). He also wrote, “Be aware that cams do not hold well on this rock in hot conditions.” Perhaps the Mission Gorge’s slick rock combined with recent rain-generated dirt and silt contributed to the gear pulling. The gear itself may have played a role. Not up for conjecture is that several elements combined to produce an unpredictable accident. The fallen leader was 34 years old and had “many years” of trad experience; the cams did not suffer obvious deformation that would have indicated a high load. As the belayer stated, “They just came right out, with seemingly less than body weight. They didn’t slow the fall at all.”

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Support Climbers Recovering From Accidents

The AAC’s Climbing Grief Fund exists to ensure that climbers and their loved ones are met with compassion, care, and community when they are navigating grief, loss, injury, or trauma. It’s one way we look out for one another—long after the ropes are packed away. 

When you donate to the Climbing Grief Fund through March 10, your donation is matched—GIVE TODAY!

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The Prescription—The Stacked Rappel

Rappelling is one of the most accident-prone facets of climbing, with improper/incomplete setup being an all-too-common cause of misadventure. In the 2025 ANAC, we featured an accident that involved a rappel fatality from a difficult ice/mixed route in the Canadian Rockies. Steep, multi-pitch winter climbing combines a challenging environment with the technical complexities of big-wall climbing. Gloved hands, copious gear, and often-cumbersome clothing can impede the usual streamlined rappel setup and safety checks. As John Godino mentioned in his 2025 ANAC Know the Ropes feature, the stacked rappel can help ameliorate these issues by promoting “More efficient rappels with reduced risk—what’s not to like?”  

Drama Queen climbs a series of ice flows interspersed with steep mixed sections. In this photo of the Stanley Headwall, the route is roughly left of center. In winter, this 300-meter-tall crag is a crucible for hard ice and mixed climbing; in summer, it’s home to a host of difficult single- and multi-pitch rock climbs. Photo by Parks Canada.

Rappel Fatality | Possible Unsecured Knot

British Columbia, Kootenay Park and Banff National Park, Stanley Headwall

At the end of 2024, a very experienced climber named Dave Peabody (48) fell to his death while rappelling from a route on the Stanley Headwall. Alik Berg was Peabody’s partner on that day. Berg wrote to ANAC:

Dave and I had been regular climbing partners for about 12 years, with many seasons of winter, alpine, and rock climbing. On December 26, we headed to the Stanley Headwall to climb Drama Queen (170m, WI6 M7). This was a fairly routine climbing day for us. That morning, we saw teams on the neighboring climbs French Reality and Dawn of the Dead.

We topped out at dusk (around 5 p.m.) and began rappelling by headlamp. We both used an ATC-Guide on our belay loops and a prusik backup on our leg loops. The last pitch (P4) was the steepest, and we climbed on a single rope (blue) with the second rope (red) as a tag line. The pitch was short enough to be rappelled with the blue rope, while we left red fixed at the beginning of the pitch to pull ourselves back into the anchor atop P3. 

This awkward rappel was partly free hanging, and pulling back into the belay required care to not disturb a large, dripping ice dagger. Dave descended first. I soon joined him. He had already begun setting up the next rappel, threading the red rope through the anchor and joining the two ropes with a single flat overhand knot.

The P3 anchor is a pair of modern bolts with Fixe rap rings. There was enough space on the small ice ledge to not be crowded, and we busied ourselves with the routine tasks of rigging the next rappel. I pulled the blue rope, verbally confirming with Dave that the joining knot was in place before making the final tug and pulling up the tail to add a stopper knot. We tied an additional stopper knot in the red rope before tossing it off. We noted a bit of a tangle in the red rope that we’d deal with on the way down.

Dave readied himself to start the rappel. I was distracted with untangling and tossing the remaining rope from the ledge and did not directly observe his connection to the ropes. He started the rappel, moving normally. As Dave descended, my gaze at that moment was on the overhand knot joining the rope ends. I sensed something was off but couldn’t register what it was.

At this point, Dave fell. The interval between sensing something was amiss to when Dave started falling was very short, maybe one to two seconds or fewer. There was enough time to register this thought but not enough to assess, let alone react. I believe he was about five to 10 meters below the anchor when he fell—not when he first stepped off the ledge and weighted the system.

In the immediate aftermath, I became fixated on something being “off” with the knot and that being the likely point of failure. It wasn’t until reaching the ground the next morning that it became clear that the knot was not the cause of the accident.

When Dave fell, I reacted by grabbing the free-running (red) rope and squeezing hard enough to melt my gloves and burn my fingers, but not enough to slow his fall. In the darkness, I could not see him at the base, only the faint glow of his headlamp. It was about 6 p.m.

The team on French Reality had already left the area. The party on Dawn of the Dead had descended, traversed the base of the wall, and were around the corner and out of earshot. About 15 minutes after the accident, their headlamps reappeared as they looped back into view near valley bottom—about one kilometer northwest of my location. I was able to yell down, and they turned around. At 6:45 p.m., they reached the base, and we could communicate properly. It was then that they realized the severity of the situation and activated their inReach. 

Dave and I had both carried a cell phone and an inReach. I had my cell phone but my inReach was at the base, while Dave had been carrying his on the climb. The party below had enough cell reception to make calls with Garmin dispatch and Parks Canada. 

Parks Canada later reported that I was secure on an anchor and wearing warm clothing. The rescue team decided that given the exposure and technical nature of the location, they would wait until sunrise to mount a rescue.

During the night, I acquired sporadic cell reception, and in the morning was able to send a few texts to the rescue team, who suggested delivering ropes to me so I could descend on my own. This was a great idea, as it eliminated the risk of doing a direct extrication from the steep wall. At 9:20 a.m., a bag containing two ropes and a radio was delivered to me by helicopter long-line. At 9:50 a.m., I was at the base of the route, where I met rescue-team members.

(Sources: Alik Berg and Parks Canada.)

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Video Analysis—The Stacked Rappel

One way that rappelling accidents might be avoided is by using the stacked or pre-rigged rappel method. In this video analysis, IFMGA/AMGA guide Jason Antin walks us through the benefits of the stacked rappel.  

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ANALYSIS

Dave was found with only the blue rope threaded through his device and backup. The device was five to 10 meters from the overhand knot.

The matching, triple-rated 8.7mm ropes showed no signs of damage, and the joining knot and stopper knots were intact. The stopper knots were unfortunately not photographed, so this comes from the rescuers and my own recollections. However, both parties agreed that both stopper knots were present.

It appears that Dave’s accident was caused by an improperly threaded rappel device. The simple solution to that is a basic partner or function check. Alternately, rappelling using the stacked rappel method is a solution. It is common in guiding practice and deserves broader adoption in the climbing community. (See ANAC 2025 KTR, “Crafty Rappel Techniques,” by John Godino.)   

Stacked rappel method. Image by AAC Staff Foster Denney.

Though we’ll never know exactly what happened here, these are the scenarios that I’ve come up with: 

1. Device and prusik only loaded on blue rope. During the initial shuffle off the ledge and transition onto steeper ground, both of Dave’s hands were gripping the ropes. Once the ropes were fully weighted, Dave transitioned to a looser grip, perhaps one hand, or maybe he released both hands to deal with the tangled red rope.

2. Same as above, except the red rope snarled the small ice daggers near the end of P3. They supported his body weight on the initial lower-angle terrain while providing similar tactile feedback to a functioning system. Once Dave was on steeper ground, his full weight caused the ice to fail or pulled the rope tangle through the constriction that had held it in place.

3. ATC-Guide was properly threaded but prusik backup was attached to the blue rope only. When his hands came off braking, the red rope ran free. The stopper knot was not present, and the rope tail ran through the ATC. (Source: Alik Berg.)

This was a deeply impactful and traumatic event. Writing the above notes and going back to that place in detail has been really hard. But it is important to me that we get this right.

(Source: Alik Berg.)

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Got a question about accidents or climbing safety?

Send it to [email protected] and hear answers from Accidents in North American Climbing editor, Pete Takeda, and the AAC team on an upcoming March episode of the AAC Podcast.

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Know Before You Go—Calling for a Rescue

Originally published in Guidebook XVI

If you’re an AAC member at the Partner, Leader, Advocate, or Great Ranges Fellowship level, then you have access to the AAC’s rescue benefit. Make sure you know how to initiate a rescue—before you find yourself in that kind of situation.

Pre-Program Your Garmin inReach

We know that a lot of our members put their trust into Garmin products* as a backup for when a cell phone isn’t reliable. Here’s how to prepare your Garmin device to contact Redpoint Travel Protection in the case of an emergency away from home:

1. Add Redpoint’s operations team as one of your emergency contacts with the email [email protected].

2. Save your preset messages for emergency and nonemergency scenarios.

3. Send a test message to Redpoint to confirm that you’ve successfully set them up in your device.

4. Go to americanalpineclub.org /rescue to learn more about your rescue and medical benefit and find further details about how best to set up your Garmin device.

Other Ways to Prepare

1. Make sure your climbing/adventure partners also have AAC memberships! If not, make sure they know that you are covered in the event of a medical emergency and how best to contact Redpoint on your behalf if you are incapacitated.

2. Inform your family and loved ones that if the worst thing happens, you are covered for $15,000 in mortal remains transport through Redpoint.

3. If you’re working with a guide company, inform them of your preference for using Redpoint Travel Protection in the event of a medical emergency.

*Did you know that AAC members receive 20% off Garmin products through ExpertVoice? Sign up for your account today at expertvoice.com/group/aac to start shopping with hundreds of brands.

The Prescription—Crevasse Fall

This month, we feature an accident that occurred in 2025 on Mt. Baker’s Squak Glacier, on the peak’s southern facet. On May 23, Daton Nestlebush fell into a crevasse while on a snowboard descent. His partner Manny Pacheco, travelling on skis, effected a rapid rescue. Pacheco captured a rare POV video of this successful 1:1 partner crevasse rescue and later posted it on Instagram (@pmannyy). Below, we feature this remarkable video, along with a blow-by-blow analysis by IFMGA guide Jason Antin.  

Mt. Baker’s Squak Glacier is the glacier/snowfield on the left-center of the peak. This classic ski-mountaineering route, known for its excellent corn skiing, is one of Baker’s most popular ski descents. It requires extensive glacier travel and offers thousands of feet of descent. Photo by AAC member and grant recipient Craig Muderlak.

Crevasse Rescue | Fall Into Crevasse 

Mt. Baker, Squak Glacier

On May 23 at 3 a.m., my longtime friend Daton Nestlebush (26) and I, Manny Pacheco (27), set out to ski Mt. Baker via the Squak Glacier route. I’m experienced in ski mountaineering and crevasse rescue, and I hold an AIARE 1 avalanche-training certification. Daton had limited experience in high-alpine terrain—this was his first time on a glacier attempting to summit a Cascade volcano.

Earlier, our team had thinned from four members down to two. I took the risk of glacier travel with an inexperienced partner because of my familiarity with the route. We reached the toe of the Squak Glacier at  5:15 a.m. and put on harnesses. I taught Daton how to bury a picket and fix a rope to it—the minimum self-rescue skill one needs if one falls into a crevasse and is still conscious.

We reached the top by noon (my seventh Mt. Baker summit). We then transitioned into descent mode and made our way down to the Squak Glacier, skiing 500-foot pitches while taking turns watching each other. At 1:15 p.m., at 7,950 feet, I stopped abruptly when I saw large crevasses 100 feet ahead. I radioed Daton, still above me, to traverse to skier’s right and keep a high line. He passed, and we both started a 300-foot descending traverse to bypass hazardous convex terrain.

As I followed, Daton collapsed a thin snow bridge and dropped into a crevasse. He raised his arms into a “T” shape, catching himself between the uphill and downhill crevasse lips. His snowboard tip caught an ice chunk four feet below the surface. Only his arms and head were visible.

My most pressing goal was to anchor Daton. I immediately redirected uphill and crossed another small crevasse. I stationed myself 20 feet uphill, using my pole to probe. I told Daton not to move and that I’d throw him a rope in 60 seconds. “You’re going to be okay,” I reassured him. 

He was holding himself strenuously by his arms above the crevasse, which we later estimated to be 60 feet deep. He said, “Can you make that 45 seconds?”  

Fortunately, the late-spring snow was perfect, and I made a trench and buried a picket in a deadman position, stomped it one foot deep, and backfilled the trench. I clipped the picket and tied another figure eight on a bight 20 feet from the anchor and threw it to Daton. My split-second decision to use the eight was based on urgency. Daton was able to grab the large loop—he later said this was critical to his survival. 

I knew the clock was ticking but stayed methodical. Daton grabbed the figure-eight loop with his right hand. As he let go of the uphill lip to clip, he dropped a couple feet, fully weighting the system. At the same time, I attached myself to the rope as a secondary anchor. This all felt like ten minutes but, in reality, it was probably more like 30 seconds.  

Daton Nestlebush emerging from the crevasse. Minutes prior, Nestlebush’s head was five feet below the surface after he fell ten to twelve feet into the deep pit. Photo by Manny Pacheco.

I wanted Daton to pull himself over the lip, but after his head dropped below the surface, this was no longer possible. I began setting up a haul system by burying my ice axe in a deadman, connecting it to the picket, and creating a master point. I took myself out of the system and reconnected with an extended prusik. The weight transfer lowered Daton another few inches; his head was now five feet under the surface. 

Although this stage was less time-sensitive, I was still concerned about “Harness Hang Syndrome”—suspension trauma in which the victim loses consciousness due to lack of blood circulation. I began to rig a 3:1 haul system. I threw a rope end down to Daton, and he clipped it onto his belay loop. Although I was unable to “prepare the lip” with a pole/axe underneath the loaded rope due to the probability of a secondary crevasse, I figured we could problem-solve for this once his head was above the surface. I placed a Micro Traxion on the master point and a prusik on the load line. I clipped the redirected load line onto my belay loop and told Daton to expect to be raised. After double-checking the system, I bear-crawled uphill until the prusik had to be reset. A 3:1 system with friction meant I was pulling 100 to 120 pounds. I repeated the sequence of bear crawling, resetting the prusik, and repeating.

Daton’s face was now above the surface, but progress halted as the haul rope cut into the lip. I threw him the original end of the rope to clip onto his pack. I also told him to unbuckle one of his snowboard boots and use the original fixed rope as a handline. Being able to use his feet, eliminating the pack weight, and having a handline allowed Daton to escape the crevasse.

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VIDEO ANALYSIS

Manny Pacheco’s video gives us a firsthand look at a real-time crevasse rescue. In this month’s Prescription video, IFMGA/AMGA Guide Jason Antin reacts to the footage and walks through the rescue step-by-step, highlighting what went well and offering recommendations for similar situations.

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ANALYSIS

Regardless of how “chill” or (seemingly) filled, an unlucky pressure point on a glacier can lead to a nightmare scenario. The snow bridge was intact; the hidden crevasse was exposed only after the bridge failed.

Fortunately, Daton was in front and I had a visual. Had he fallen into the crevasse behind me, I might not have immediately noticed. This would have dramatically delayed any rescue.

It was lucky that the less experienced person was the one who fell. Had I fallen and become unconscious, we’d likely have needed the help of other skiers nearby. It was also good that Daton caught his fall at the lip—preventing a 60-foot fall—and was able to hold on for the two minutes it took to fix the line. Had Daton been alone with no witnesses, he likely would have fallen below the surface. Snow/ice dampens any yelling.

The process and system I used were not flawless, but I had to act decisively. In practice scenarios, you have time to prep, but in reality, things happen fast. The key is to stay methodical; slow is smooth, smooth is fast.

I should have stopped Daton before he passed me, as he is much less experienced in this terrain. Had he followed me in a higher traverse line, he likely would have avoided the crevasse fall. Also, if I had looked at our position before reaching the convexity, we could have bypassed the crevasse earlier. I was too caught up having fun and skiing.

I’m now much more cognizant of communicating with my partners during glacier travel, as well as of their experience level. This report should encourage glacier recreators to acquire competence to handle worst-case scenarios. Please take crevasse-rescue courses from professionals and/or partner with knowledgeable friends and mentors. Had I not learned and annually refreshed these skills, the outcome would have been much different.

(Source: Manny Pacheco.)

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Explore Prescription Stories

The Prescription—Anchor Failure

This month we feature an accident that occurred in 2024 on Yosemite’s Manure Pile Buttress when a climber mistied a knot. You can reference this accident in this years Accidents in North American Climbing (page 46). The knot involved was bulky and involved multiple strands of webbing, brought together to tie a single anchor loop. The average climber only needs to know several simple knots but sometimes, even experts can get it wrong. This climber was lucky and escaped with minor injuries.

Yosemite National Park. In spring of 2024 a serious accident took place on a relatively small and very popular crag called manure Pile Buttress. Photo by Andrew Burr.

Anchor Failure | Slipknot Came Untied

Yosemite National Park, Manure Pile Buttress

On June 24, 2024 during the American Alpine Club’s United in Yosemite Climbing Festival, a climber led the first pitch of After Six (5.7). At the belay tree, the climber set up a lowering anchor using a knot on a quad-length sling with two locking carabiners. The climber weighted the rope and lowered. He cleaned the top piece of gear (a camming device). Below, a second cam proved too tight to remove so he unclipped it. The climber continued to lower. At the third piece from the top, the anchor knot failed. The climber fell 80 feet before the belayer caught his fall, when the climber was about five feet above the ground. The climber was lowered and SAR was called. His injuries included a sprained ankle, lacerations on the face, a broken nose, and rope burns on the hands and fingers. 

In June, a lowering climber fell 80 feet when his anchor “knot” came undone. In this photo taken after the accident, it appears that he had completed a serviceable overhand knot. In actuality, he had tied a slipknot and clipped into the loops. The two pulled loop ends are visible in the photo above. Anonymous

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Video Analysis

A slipknot looks deceptively like other knots you'd use in a climbing anchor, but when you actually load it, it's not going to hold much at all. Pete Takeda, Editor of Accidents in North American Climbing, and IFMGA/AMGA Guide Jason Antin, are back to explain how a slipknot can have serious consequences when used in climbing anchors.

Credits: Pete Takeda, Editor of Accidents in North American Climbing; IFMGA/AMGA Guide Jason Antin; Producers: Shane Johnson and Sierra McGivney; Videographer: Foster Denney; Editor: Sierra McGivney; Location: Accessibility Crag, Clear Creek, CO.

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ANALYSIS

The climber was fortunate that he had high protection that stopped him from hitting the ground when the anchor failed and lots of slack was introduced into the belay system. The anchor sling was found with an intact overhand knot. The belayer, who wishes to remain anonymous, wrote to ANAC: “We believe it was an attempted overhand knot but it was actually a slipknot.” The still-locked masterpoint carabiners were found clipped to the rope by the fallen climber. 

*Editor’s Note: After analysis, it was determined that the climber had attempted to tie an overhand knot but failed to pull the two end strands completely through the knot. He then clipped the two locking carabiners through the unsecured loops. Since there were so many strands of webbing in the mix, it was hard to tell the difference between a fixed loop and a slip loop. When weighted, the slip loops had sufficient friction and compression to hold, if only momentarily, while the ends gradually crept toward release.

(Sources: Anonymous and ANAC Canada Editor Robert Chisnall.)

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The Prescription—Ground Fall

It’s Rocktober and across the continent climbers are sending their projects. This month we remind you that mishaps in “safe” genres like sport climbing can have serious consequences. This accident occurred in 2019 and was only reported this year. However, in the newly published 2025 ANAC, we feature several similar groundfall accidents.  

As you’ll also see below, we’re also featuring a human factors post-accident analysis that reveals some recurrent themes and behavior patterns. These are introduced in an article written by Dr. Valerie Karr.

Red Rock Canyon National Conservation Area is one of the best rock climbing areas in North America. This area features hundreds of boulder problems, sport routes, and traditional climbs. As such, it also hosts a wide range of climbing accidents. Photo by BLM.

Groundfall | Foot Slipped While Clipping

Nevada, Red Rock Conservation Area

On June 22, 2019, B, a male climber, was leading Where Egos Dare (5.12a) as a cool-down after a long session. The four-bolt route was easy enough for this climber that he could run a quick lap and as a result B “didn't take it seriously and was climbing very arrogantly… without careful consideration of the consequences.” Besides being short and punchy, the route also has several hard clips that put the leader within groundfall range.

B was, “…cooling down after a hard day of projecting. At the third bolt I pulled a bunch of slack to clip and my foot popped.” He had placed his foot carelessly on a bad part of the hold when it slipped. He had an arm full of slack and, “…decked straight on my butt.” He suffered lumbar compression fractures and fractured sacrum. “I was mere inches away from a shelf that, that had I impacted with my lumbar spine, I would've undoubtedly been paralyzed.” Though in serious pain, he, “walked out under my own steam. Likely due to adrenaline.”

Where Egos Dare (5.12a). The four lead bolts are each marked with a yellow “x”. In June 2019, a climber fell while clipping the third bolt and he landed on the ground. Besides highlighting the inherent dangers of sport climbing, this accident is an example of “risk normalization.” Photo by Anthony Lijewski.

ANALYSIS

B fell approximately 15 feet. A pit/trough below Where Egos Dare created a ledge that one could hit in a fall. He had stick clipped the first bolt but, “Had I stick clipped the third, this accident wouldn't have happened. Back then I considered it ‘cheating’ to clip more than the first, which in retrospect is silly.”

He adds, “Sport climbing is flippin’ dangerous! For all the sketchy gear routes I've done in my life it was a 35' tall 12a sport climb that nearly cost me the ability to walk. Unfortunately, I don't think most sport climbers have a clue about this.”

Finally, the fallen climber said, “I’d add that one should climb more carefully. Because this route was well below my redpoint level I didn't take it seriously. Ultimately, I put my foot to the right of the actual foothold and that is what did me in. Luckily, I'm physically 100% now, but it was such a close call that I definitely have residual psychological effects. My wife still has trouble belaying me despite it not being her fault. I think the psychological impacts of such accidents cannot be overstated.”

(Source: Anonymous Climber.)

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HUMAN FACTORS ANALYSIS

This is the actual sloping and insecure foothold from which B’s foot slipped, sending him to the ground. Photo by B.

This groundfall is a classic case of risk normalization in which repeated exposure to hazards without consequence, lowers the perception of danger. Over time, shortcuts—clipping from poor stances, eschewing procedures like a higher stick clip, and a casual approach to moderate climbing—diminish the perceived hazards of consequential terrain. On the day of his accident, B admitted he was climbing “carelessly,” on a warm-down route that was well within his ability. Other distracting factors contributed to an atmosphere of informality and distractions at the base of the crag that compounded a sense of invulnerability. 

B’s narrative also reveals how cultural values within climbing can magnify risk through what he called the “purity ethics.”Beyond simple overconfidence, B acknowledged an internalized idea that stick clipping beyond the first bolt was “cheating.” This belief overrode pragmatic risk assessment. Only after his accident did he reframe those values, prioritizing safety over style with an understanding that it’s “all contrived anyway.”

(Source: Dr. Valerie Karr.)

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VIDEO ANALYSIS

Pete Takeda, editor of Accidents in North American Climbing, and IFMGA Guide Jason Antin discuss how to reduce the likelihood of an accident a couple bolts off the ground.

Pete Takeda, Editor of Accidents in North American Climbing; IFMGA/AMGA Guide Jason Antin; Producers: Shane Johnson and Sierra McGivney; Videographer: Foster Denney; Editor: Sierra McGivney; Location: Accessibility Crag and East Colfax, Clear Creek, CO.

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The Prescription—Off Route Rappel

Fall is finally here and conditions for rock climbing are prime. Many of you will be heading out to crags or walls that require rappels. Just remember that while rappel mishaps come in all forms, two common errors are getting off the rappel route and/or getting the rappel rope stuck. To extricate oneself and avoid rescue it’s good to learn the art of ascending a rope. 

In this incident from 2021, one climber found himself off route. With some basic tools and an understanding of the concept of rope ascension, this climber got his team out of trouble.

Devils Tower is an immensely popular summit with a high concentration of routes that follow splitter cracks on solid rock. Photo by NPS.

Off Route Rappel | Improvised Rope Ascent

Devils Tower, South Face

On May 25, Climber 1 (David) and Climber 2 experienced a common rappel mishap on Devils Tower.

David recounts: “I share this as a cautionary tale. After climbing the Bon Homme Variation (5.8) and then the Bailey Direct route to top out, we decided to head down by the Meadows rappels. I saw a cairn and some rap rings and rigged the rap, assuming I was on the Meadows rappe route. Boy was I wrong! After descending about 125 feet (with two 60-meter ropes), I realized I was off route. I saw a tiny ledge with a second rap anchor at 150 feet, but when I got there with no Meadows in sight, I knew I was screwed.

There was a steady 30 mph wind with gusts to about 45. Luckily, we had a set of small radios, so I could talk with my partner. I pulled up an end and tied in and had him start belaying me. Unfortunately, the climbing was well above my grade and the rock was covered with lichen and offered no grip, so I was going nowhere fast.

He started hauling me but didn’t know how to rig something to assist, so I had him tie off his ATC to fix the line. I knew the concepts of self-rescue/ jugging but hadn’t ever practiced. I had to quickly figure it out. I carry a Petzl Micro Traxion as well as a Sterling HollowBlock to use as a prusik. I attached the HollowBlock high and clipped into it with my rappel extension. I put the Micro Traxion low on the rope and rigged a foot stirrup with a cordelette, all while hanging in air 500 feet above the boulder field.

I figured out the method—step up on the Traxion, slide up the prusik, sit back on the prusik, pull slack through the Traxion, repeat over and over. A few times, I got to where I thought I could climb, but it was too complicated to switch from jugging to climbing.

At one point the sling to my prusik got tangled in the Traxion. Somehow I got the Traxion opened (while just hanging on the prusik) and freed the sling. It’s impossible to relay the genuine fear I had during this experience. In the end it all worked out, and in about an hour I was back on top. I learned a lot. “

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The Meadows rappel descent on Devils Tower is surprisingly deceptive, especially given its popularity. Over a thousand people use this descent every year. NPS Pamphlet

ANALYSIS

The Meadows rappels are known to lead climbers astray and have been the location of at least one recorded fatality. The descent is unobvious, despite it being used to descend from the most popular routes on Devils Tower. With an almost 90-year rock climbing history, there are many anchors on the Tower–some at five- to ten foot intervals–that make even well-traveled rappels problematic.

As David recounts, “I should have spent more time looking around and been 100 percent sure of the descent route. The top of the Tower is disorienting if you don’t pay attention to the landscape on the ground.” David was smart to carry tools for ascending a fixed rope—a little prior practice would have made his journey back to the anchor a lot easier. Learn and practice safe transitions from rappelling to ascending and the methods to back up such an ascent. Bringing radios was another good choice. David recalls, “It was very windy, and it was impossible to shout. Without the radios I’m pretty sure I would have had to call SAR. Best thirty dollars I ever spent.”

(Sources: David, via Mountain Project, and the Editors.)

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Video Analysis

Every year, we receive several reports of people getting stuck while rappelling and having to ascend their ropes. Knowing this one technique would save you a lot of stress and prevent what could be a costly and risky rescue.

IFMGA/AMGA Guide Jason Antin walks us through ascending a double rope after rappelling off route. We recommend that climbers take a rock rescue course from a guide to get a full in-depth training on how to ascend a rope.

Credits:
Pete Takeda, Editor of Accidents in North American Climbing, IFMGA/AMGA Guide Jason Antin, Producers: Shane Johnson and Sierra McGivney; Videographer: Foster Denney; Editor: Sierra McGivney, Location: Accessibility Crag, Clear Creek, CO.

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The Prescription—Free Solo Fall

Besides being prime time in the high country, summer is a high-traffic season for alpine rock and long moderate climbs. This time of year, climbers of all levels venture unroped onto “easy” terrain. Every year, we also see a handful of free solo accidents. These are almost always fatal and usually take place on well-trafficked moderate routes.

A disturbing pattern emerged last year when several fatalities occurred on adjacent formations in the same area. Recently, the Flatirons above Boulder, Colorado, saw three fatalities, two within two days in mid-December.

The Flatirons above Boulder, Colorado, see thousands of ascents every year, many by unroped climbers. Close proximity to the metropolitan Front Range, high visibility to the public, and complacency on technical climbing terrain can contribute to accidents. Photo from Wikimedia | joiseyshowaa

FREE SOLO FALLS

Boulder, Flatirons

On December 16, 2024 the Boulder County Sheriff’s Office received a report that 42-year-old Keith Hayes did not return home that evening. Around 9 p.m., friends of Keith found his body near the top of Second Flatiron after he presumably fell while unroped from Freezeway (5.7). Friends of Hayes report that there was no sign of snow or ice on the route and that there was no sign of broken rock contributing to the fall.

Here we see a group scrambling high above the ground in Big Bend National Park. Loose rock, dirt/gravel underfoot, inattention, and haste can trigger fatal falls. Photo from Wikimedia | Yinan Chen

The day after, December 17, a 27-year-old male was reported missing after not returning home in the evening from a Flatirons climb. The Boulder Emergency Squad found the body of the missing male the next day on the Standard East Face route (5.4) on the Third Flatiron; he was presumed to have fallen unroped. Rocky Mountain Rescue Group recovered the body after an eight-plus-hour operation.

“Scrambling” blurs the line between third-class (easy unroped climbing) and fifth-class technical climbing. While the grade of the actual climbing is often anywhere between 5.0 and 5.6, the terrain is climbed unroped and is usually accompanied by consequential fall potential.

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Video Analysis—Free Solo Fall

A search of the Accidents archive reveals 33 accidents in the Flatirons described and analyzed by the editors (including 11 deaths) since the 1950s. Many of these were the result of unroped climbing.

The editor of Accidents in North American Climbing, Pete Takeda, walks us through why free soloing or scrambling accidents are so prevalent in this area.

Pete Takeda, Editor of Accidents in North American Climbing; Producers: Shane Johnson and Sierra McGivney; Videographer: Foster Denney; Editor: Sierra McGivney; Location: Flatirons, Boulder, Colorado.

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ANALYSIS

Freezeway is a steep, alternate finish to gain the summit of the Second Flatiron after completing one of several low-angle east face routes. Keith Hayes was very experienced and had climbed this route without a rope many times before his fall. The Standard East Face of the Third Flatiron is one of the most popular beginner climbs in the U.S. and is frequently climbed unroped.

The accidents shocked the local community, and the timing and proximity of both fatalities gained national attention. These tragedies serve as a reminder of the inherent risks of free solo climbing. Experience and fitness do not guarantee survival, and familiarity can degrade attentiveness. (Source: Friends of Keith Hayes and Bill Kinter.)

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The Prescription—Rappel Fatalities

This month, we recall a tragic accident from 2023 ANAC. While recalling this accident is disturbing, it’s important to understand that there were 14 published rappel accidents that year, eight of which resulted in fatalities. The trend shows no sign of abating. In the upcoming 2025 ANAC, our data tables record a total of 15 reported rappel incidents that involved 23 climbers and ended with five fatalities. It’s not all bad news. In the 2025 ANAC, we also feature an article with tips for improved rappel safety from John Godino of Alpinesavvy.com. 

The west face of Tahquitz Rock was the scene of a tragic rappel accident in 2023 when two climbers fell to their deaths after an apparently solid rappel sling broke. Photo: Benjamin Crowell—Wikimedia.

Rappel Fatalities | Broken Anchor Sling

Tahquitz Rock, Riverside County, California

On Wednesday, September 28, 2022, Chelsea Walsh (33), a documentary filmmaker, and Gavin Escobar (31), an ex–Dallas Cowboys football player, died in a fall at Tahquitz Rock (Lily Rock). The Riverside Mountain Rescue Unit (RMRU) responded to the accident and later provided an in-depth analysis. They concluded that a degraded rappel sling caused the fatal fall of several hundred feet. This was one of two fatal accidents in 2022 due to a broken rappel-anchor sling.

RMRU reported that, around 8 a.m., Escobar and Walsh told another climbing party that they intended to climb Dave’s Deviation (3 pitches, 5.9). The weather appeared good, with only a few puffy clouds. At 10:30 a.m., a team on a route to the left, Super Pooper (5.10b), saw Escobar and Walsh near the top of their route. The weather was still good.

Fifteen to thirty minutes later, it began to rain. The team on Super Pooper began talking about retreating. By noon, the weather had gotten even worse. A team on Left Ski Track (5.6) had topped out and took shelter under a rock near the top of The Trough, a four-pitch 5.4. According to the RMRU report, by this time, “(the) weather has significantly deteriorated, with thunder and heavy rain and small hail. Members of both climbing parties were surprised at how quickly the storm intensified. Water was running down rock faces and soaked all climbing gear.”

Between noon and 12:15 p.m., the team on Super Pooper began to retreat. They heard a noise from the direction of Walsh and Escobar’s route and saw two falling climbers and a very large rock falling with them. The four climbers near the top of The Trough heard the same. No one heard rockfall before the sight and sounds of the fall. When RMRU arrived, they found Walsh and Escobar at the base of a gully below The Trough. The location of the bodies aligned with the fall line below a tree that was above the finish of Dave’s Deviation. Later investigation and video taken by Walsh confirmed the pair chose the tree—with an in situ rappel sling—as a bail point. The video also showed Escobar initiating the rappel and both climbers clipped into the single webbing loop. Both climbers appeared in good spirits and unhurried in making their rappel arrangements.

Above, we see the broken sling. At the time of the accident, this sun-bleached sling appeared darker/newer because it was wet from the rain storm that caused the climbers to rappel from this spot. Photo: James Eckhardt/RMRU.

The RMRU reported that the pair were found “wearing helmets, harnesses, and climbing shoes. Chelsea had a PAS girth-hitched through her harness with a locked screwgate at the far end, an unlocked screwgate clipped to an ATC, and an unlocked screwgate clipped to a hollow block. Chelsea was not connected to the rope or any anchor material. Gavin had a single-length sling girth-hitched to his harness’ tie-in points with an unlocked carabiner clipped to the sling and the belay loop. Additionally, an ATC was attached to his belay loop with a locked screwgate and both strands of the rope running through the ATC and through the screwgate. There was a four-to-five-foot loop of rope extending from the top of the ATC with two opposite and opposed wire-gate carabiners clipped to the rope. These carabiners were not connected to anything else. The rope had some sheath damage to the area around the ATC and significant sheath damage a few feet below the ATC, but there were no breaks present. Each end of the rope had a single figure 8 tied into it, one loose and one hand tight.”

The RMRU report summarizes, “As the storm moved in, the party reached the pine tree close to the first pitch of Upper Royal’s Arch and, given the conditions, decided to rappel. By the time they reached the pine tree, the webbing [around the tree] was wet, and as such, it would have been more difficult to ascertain the quality of the webbing without closely inspecting the knot and seeing the original color. They likely clipped into the webbing with their personal anchor systems. As the terrain below the pine tree is sloping, with only small areas to stand, it is likely they would have both been weighting the webbing. They then tied stopper knots into their rope, clipped it through the two wire-gates opposite and opposed, and dropped the ends. Gavin was first on rappel and descended a few feet before the webbing broke. As it was a single strand with no redundancy, both climbers fell. There was no evidence of rockfall hitting the tree or surrounding rock, and the webbing could not have been cut by a rock.

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Video Analysis—Rappel Anchors

In this video, Jason Antin, IFMGA/AMGA Guide, gives some tips to avoid mistakes at the anchor:

• Avoid rappelling from a single sling.

• Avoid rappelling from an anchor made of old webbing.

• White or gray nylon webbing is a red flag and needs closer inspection.

• Beware of blotchy or faded webbing. Inspect the knot to try to spot an alternate (original) color inside. Try turning a sling over to look at its “under” side, against a tree or chockstone.

• Carry a knotted sling or cordelette to back up anchors and a knife to cut away bad webbing and carry it out.

Credits: Pete Takeda, Editor of Accidents in North American Climbing, Jason Antin, IFMGA/AMGA guide; Producer: Shane Johnson and Sierra McGivney; Videographer: Foster Denney; Editor: Sierra McGivney; Location: Little Twin Owls, Lumpy Ridge, CO.

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ANALYSIS

Rappelling from a single sling is not advisable. Nor is rappelling from an anchor comprised of old webbing. That said, most experienced climbers (the editors included) have at one time or another done both. Walsh and Escobar were very experienced and, based on their video, they felt in control of the situation. While the weather played a factor in their decision to retreat, it also indirectly played a role in the team’s decision to use the questionable rappel sling. The rain had made the sling appear in much better condition than it was. The RMRU report states, “The webbing felt old and stiff when dry, but when wetted, it felt significantly better and looked much less faded. It was gray/white…however, upon retrieval and closer inspection, it had originally been fluorescent green and was now fully faded from prolonged sun UV exposure.”

The RMRU report added that, “The unfaded color was visible in the knot, however it was very difficult to see without close inspection.” Any white or gray nylon webbing at an anchor is a red flag: Such webbing is sold, but it’s uncommon, and it suggests closer inspection. The same goes for any blotchiness (from fading) in the webbing. Inspecting the knot for soundness is a good step, for obvious reasons, but possibly spotting an alternate color inside the knot is also good reason to inspect it. Also, try turning a sling over to look at its “under” side, against a tree or chockstone. These days, sewn aramid-fiber slings are the norm. It is expensive to leave behind long looped runners as rappel anchors. To get around this problem, consider carrying a long knotted sling or cordelette that is better suited for backing up suspect anchors; a knife will be handy to cut the sling to length. This solution is inexpensive and reasonably light weight. (Sources: James Eckhardt, RMRU, and the Editors.)

These are images of the failed webbing rappel anchor from Tahquitz Rock. (A) Webbing as it was found on tree, with arrows indicating the two broken ends. (B) Image showing the full length of webbing retrieved with break and (C) close-up image of break. (D) Test 1: webbing broke at 2.54kN. (E) Test 2: webbing broke at knot at 3.56kN. Image also shows the original color (neon green) of the webbing. (F) Test 3: webbing broke at 3.2kN. Photos: RMRU.

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The Prescription—Fatal Rockfall

Every year we publish several accounts of rockfall. What makes a few of these accidents so scary is the fact that several climbers have experienced this kind of accident just standing at the base of a crag.

Above 10,000 feet in elevation, Wizard’s Gate is typical of high altitude climbing areas in which sport climbs are being developed. While such areas may be easily accessible and bolt protected, an alpinist’s sense of mountain awareness is required to safely climb there. Photo: Bob Siegrist

Fatal Rockfall

Colorado, Twin Sisters Peak, Wizard’s Gate

On July 9, 2022, Anna Laila Leikvold (22) was preparing to climb at the Wizard’s Gate crag, south of Estes Park, when she was struck by a rock falling from above on a route called The Arrival (4 pitches, 5.11). Leikvold, who was wearing a helmet, was at the base of the cliff in a party of three when a football-sized rock dislodged by another climber struck her as she was fleeing from the base of the wall.

Bob Siegrist, a developer of this area and first ascensionist of The Arrival, wrote to ANAC, “I think the falling rock came from pitch two, but I did not talk with the climbers who were on the route and caused the rockfall. This speculation is based on talking with other climbers who were at the base and also my inspection of [the] route after the accident. Later, I discovered a spot on pitch two where a stone had broken off, matching the features of the suspect rock that was found at the bottom of the crag below where Anna was struck.”

Climbers called 911 and gathered to help Leikvold. Rescuers arrived with a litter, but she passed away before they reached the ambulance. Her evacuation was compounded by the rugged terrain and the lengthy hike to the road (the approach is a steep 30 to 45 minutes). Siegrist returned two weeks later and removed the bolts from the upper three pitches of the climb to prevent such an accident in the future.

The base of Wizard’s Gate, where people often congregate, was the site of a tragic rockfall fatality. The bolts on the route where the rockfall originated were later removed. Photo: Dougald MacDonald.

ANALYSIS

There are annual instances of rockfall injuries and fatalities suffered by climbers at the base of crags. With the growing popularity of multi-pitch sport routes—often extensions of existing single-pitch climbs—the need grows for caution on the ground and above. According to “Neale D” on Mountainproject.com, “There were over 20 of us climbing at or near Wizard’s Gate [that day], maybe the most some have experienced at this crag. Most importantly, though, probably in an effort to find something open to climb, several parties ventured up multi-pitch routes while others stuck to single-pitching below.”

With a shady aspect and an elevation of 10,000 feet, Wizard’s Gate is a popular high-country escape from Colorado’s summer heat. Kim Schwartz, who was at the Wizard’s Gate on the day of the accident, says, “It’s easy to treat an area like this as a sport crag, but it is an alpine environment with all the attendant hazards.”

For those climbing or rappelling above others, avoid loose rock, look for white chalk Xs marking unstable rocks, and be aware of how the rope might catch on sketchy blocks. Consider not climbing when others are below. For those below, wear a helmet while leading, belaying, or spectating. However, remember that in this case, a helmet did not save the individual’s life. Adapting an alpinist’s sense of mountain awareness can help prevent such accidents. Watch and listen for falling rock, and choose protected areas while belaying or waiting for your turn to climb. This is especially true if there are climbers above, after heavy rain or snow, and during windstorms.

A further lesson extends to route developers or first ascensionists. Pay heed to the numbers and demographics of climbers venturing into alpine and remote areas, many of whom have little experience in the risks inherent in such terrain. Consider the potential for both human-generated or natural rockfall before establishing new routes. This is especially true for multi-pitch routes extending above established climbs.

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Video Analysis—Avoiding Rockfall

The base of a crag can be a hazardous place. In this video, Pete Takeda, Editor of Accidents in North American Climbing, gives some tips to avoid causing rockfall while climbing and avoid being hit while at the base of the crag.

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Safety Tips for Wizard’s Gate & Similar Areas

The Arrival extended above a very popular single pitch cragging zone at Wizard’s Gate, site of the July 2022 rockfall fatality, on rock that deteriorated in quality above the first pitch. The bolts protecting the upper pitches were removed soon after the accident.

For climbing at Wizard’s Gate and similar areas, Siegrist has a few safety tips:

1. When arriving at an area like Wizard’s Gate, carefully assess where people are climbing and identify risky situations. Locate your gear and hangout spots in the safest areas available. If the crag is too busy, especially with inexperienced climbers, don’t hesitate to relocate to another area or another crag. Weekend days can be busy, so if you want to climb one of the multi-pitch routes, try to do so on days with few climbers below.

2. At Wizard’s Gate and similar crags, consider wearing a helmet and have a plan in mind if someone yells, “Rock!” Typically, I advise that you run to the wall, extend your arms over your head, and do not look up. Rockfall at Wizard’s Gate often originates from high up the wall, and stones falling from there often bounce off the wall before landing 10 to 30 feet from the base of the cliff. 

3. Be aware of local resources if an accident occurs. At Wizard’s Gate, there is now an EMS kit and Stokes litter located about 300 feet below the base of the cliff. It has first responder contacts. I spearheaded the effort after the accident and am the current custodian. 

(Sources: Bob Siegrist, Kim Schwartz, Kelly Cordes, and Mountainproject.com.)

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Drowning at Altitude: A Nepal Rescue Story

In this episode, we talk to AAC member, alpinist, and ski mountaineer, Maddie Miller, about a Nepal trip gone wrong–what she hoped was going to be a level-up in her climbing career, turned into a medical evacuation. At 16,200 feet, Maddie started experiencing signs of the extremely life-threatening medical condition HAPE, or High Altitude Pulmonary Edema. Thankfully, she had the ability to call for a helicopter, and get emergency care–all covered by her AAC rescue benefit and medical expense coverage. We dive into her experience with the freaky feeling of gurgling lungs, what other people don’t realize about this extremely deadly medical diagnosis, and what it means to feel as fit as possible but still affected by altitude. 

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Episode Resources

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Discover Melissa Arnot Reid’s Book

Prescription—High Altitude Cerebral Edema

Every year we publish several accounts of high altitude pulmonary edema and high altitude cerebral edema. While most of these incidents in North America occur in the Alaska Range, any terrain above 10,000 feet holds altitude hazards. Most cases are resolved by descending immediately upon the appearance of symptoms. But as you’ll read below, in the spring of 2023 on Denali, bad weather delayed a rescue helicopter, and by the time the climber was evacuated, it was too late.

Avalanche on Mt. Hunter in Denali National Park. Avalanche and high altitude illness are two proven environmental hazards in the high mountains. Photo by Dave Weber.

High Altitude Cerebral Edema | Ascending Too Fast

Denali, West Buttress Route

On May 30, 2023, an independent expedition at 14,200-foot camp notified rangers via radio that one member of their team, a 24-year-old Coloradan, had an altered mental status. The patient’s team stated that they had been dropped off by plane at base camp (7,200 feet) on May 27. Immediately upon landing, the team departed for the West Buttress Route, reaching 14,200-foot camp a day and a half later, on the evening of May 28. The team stated that upon reaching camp, all team members were feeling “OK.” 

On the afternoon of May 30, teammates alerted NPS rangers that the Coloradan—after reportedly feeling “groggy” with a slight headache—began exhibiting severe symptoms of high altitude cerebral edema (HACE) and high altitude pulmonary edema (HAPE). A second team member was experiencing moderate symptoms of HAPE.

Weather conditions did not allow helicopter flights on the night of May 30. A team of NPS rangers and volunteer patrol members performed 18 hours of advanced life support on the unresponsive HACE/HAPE patient throughout the night, including treatment in a hyperbaric chamber, medications, supplemental oxygen, and mechanical breathing assistance. On the morning of May 31, the patient was evacuated by helicopter with an Air National Guard Pararescue Specialist from the 212th Rescue Unit serving as the medical attendant. The patient was flown to Talkeetna and transferred to a LifeMed air ambulance for advanced care. Unfortunately, the patient succumbed to the effects of HACE/HAPE in the hospital.

NPS rescue personnel and volunteers treat a HAPE/HACE patient at 14,200-foot camp on Denali. This portable and inflatable hyperbaric chamber is used to simulate emergent descent for severe cases of high altitude illness prior to evacuation or when descent is not possible. Photo by Menno Boermans.

ANALYSIS

As many do, this team made the assumption that living at a relatively high altitude (over 5,000 feet) and maintaining a high level of fitness would prepare them adequately for swift elevation gain. This is a severe example of the inaccuracies of this assumption. Living at altitude and having good fitness are not guaranteed to protect climbers against high altitude illness (HAI). The human body starts losing adaptations to altitude in a matter of days, which is often the amount of time that climbers spend traveling to Alaska to begin an expedition.

The Wilderness Medicine Society (WMS) recommends that, at elevations above 9,000 feet, climbers ascend no more than 1,650 feet (500 meters) to a new sleeping elevation each night. Additionally, for every 3,300 feet (1,000 meters) of elevation gain, the WMS recommends spending an extra day sleeping at a given elevation to further acclimatize.

The mountaineering rangers on Denali see many very fit climbers arriving to attempt a summit each season. Although fitness is an important factor in risk management and safe travel on the mountain, it can also make the recommended conservative ascent profile feel onerous. Unfortunately, a climber’s level of fitness has no correlation with whether or not they become stricken with HAI. Only a reasonable ascent profile and proper acclimatization will prevent climbers from becoming ill.

(Source: Denali Mountaineering Rangers.)

Denali rescue volunteer Dr. Andy Luks assesses a HAPE patient in the NPS medical tent at 14,200-foot camp. Photo by Menno Boermans.

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Prescription—Knee Stuck in Crack

Wild as it may seem, every year we publish at least one report of a climber getting their knee stuck in an offwidth crack. Sound crazy? It happened to Martin Boysen on Trango Tower and more recently Jason Kruk on Boogie Till You Puke. 

Queen Victoria Spire in Sedona, Arizona, was the scene of a stuck knee incident in 2023. Photos by Xander Ashburn | Wikimedia.

The final section of the second pitch of the Regular Route (III, 5.7) on Queen Victoria Spire. This four-inch crack trapped a climber on her first outdoor climb. Photo: Chris Thornley/Climbing Magazine

Knee Stuck in Crack

Sedona, Queen Victoria Spire 

On January 8, Climber 1 (female, 25) got her knee stuck in a wide crack on the Regular Route (3 pitches, 5.7) on Queen Victoria Spire in Sedona. Climber 1 was following four friends on her first outdoor climb when she attempted an “alpine knee” while pulling onto a ledge on the second pitch.

An “alpine knee” is when you place that joint on top of a high hold and use it for progress, instead of a foot. Rather than helping her onto the ledge, Climber 1’s knee slipped into a four-inch-wide crack, where it wedged and became stuck. Others in her party tried pouring water over her knee in an attempt to free it but were unsuccessful. 

At 5:15 p.m., the Coconino County Sheriff’s department was contacted to perform a rescue. By 8 p.m., the SAR team had arrived. It took over an hour to free the climber from the crack, and by then the climber was exhibiting signs of mild hypothermia (they had started climbing at 12:30 p.m.). The climbing party was airlifted off the spire. The stuck climber was not injured and refused treatment.

ANALYSIS

The climbers in this scenario did “everything right,” according to the SAR team. They tried to free their partner, and failing that, they initiated a rescue. Many relatively easy routes have awkward sections or styles of climbing that may seem above the technical grade when first encountered outdoors. Care should be taken when making a move where a slip or fall could result in injury or entrapment. It took about four hours to free this climber, and temperatures at the crag dropped to around 30°F. Consider worst-case scenarios when preparing for a climb, as unexpected events could result in prolonged exposure to the elements.

(Source: Dan Apodaca.) 

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Video Analysis

If getting your knee stuck in an offwidth is so common, what do we do if it happens? In the video analysis, ANAC editor Pete Takeda provides some tips on how to prepare for this kind of worst-case scenario when rock climbing.

Credits: Pete Takeda, Editor of Accidents in North American Climbing, and Hannah Provost, Content Director; Producer: Shane Johnson and Sierra McGivney @Sierra_McGivney; Videographer: Foster Denney @fosterdoodle_; Editor: Sierra McGivney @Sierra_McGivney; Location: Cob Rock, Boulder Canyon, CO

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Similar Accidents—Accidents in North American Climbing

• 2022 | Leg Stuck in Crack
  California, Joshua Tree National Park Left Horse Area

• 2019 | Stranded—Knee Stuck in Wide Crack
  Minnesota, Sandstone, Robinson Park

• 2014 | Stranded—Knee Jammed in Crack
  Wyoming, Vedauwoo, Easy Jam

• 2009 | Stranded—Inability to Remove Anatomical Protection
  California, Yosemite Valley, Bishops Terrace

• 2006 | Stranded—Leg Stuck in Crack
  British Columbia, Purcell Mountains Bugagoo Spire, Kain Route

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