My memoir focused on the first 25 years of my life as a climber. This reflection is about the next 25 years of my life as a climber and mother. I couldnā€™t have imagined that what started out as a simple outing in 1975 with my two older sisters, my brother, and my sisterā€™s boyfriend Chuck would become such an integral part of my life, connecting me to a community of people all over the world.

If my lifeā€™s meaning could be summarized in a simple phrase, I would choose this quote from MarkĢżTwain: ā€œThe two most important days of your life are the day you are born and the day you find out why.ā€

In looking back on my life, I realize that perhaps the day I found out my ā€œwhyā€ is September 16, 1994, when I free climbed the Nose in one magical day. I had no idea how this ascent would impact my own life, as well as the lives of so many people throughout the world. At that time, no oneā€”not even meā€”understood that it would take over a decade for this ascent to be repeated by anyone, man or woman.

By the time I had finished writing Climbing Free in 2002, the only person to have repeated a free ascent of the Nose was Scott Burke, who summited in 1998 after 261 days of effort. Due to an impending storm on his 12-day ground-up ascent, Scott top roped the Great Roof pitch, though he was able to free climb this pitch. It took over a decade before Tommy Caldwell and Beth Rodden finally repeated an all-free ascent in 2005. In the 30 years since my first free ascent, only 12 people have made an all free ascent of the Nose. Tommy Caldwell is still the only other person to have done a free ascent of the Nose in one day.

I returned to Yosemite in 2018 with a talented young Swiss climber named Nina Caprez, who was interested in making an all free ascent of the Nose. This turned out to be an ideal opportunity to support my friend, while celebrating the 25th anniversary of the first free ascent. In those 25 years, I hadnā€™t even sent a route of comparable difficulty. Nonetheless, my personal goal was simply to try free climbing as much of the route as possible. This experience gave me a much better perspective of the difficulty of this route, as well as a chance to reflect on how my life as a climber and mother had changed over the years.

In 2003, I bought a house in Boulder, Colorado and a few months later, I gave birth to my son, Owen. I was content to adopt a more stable lifestyle in a progressive community close to good climbing, skiing, and hiking. By the age of two, Owen had already traveled to more than 10 different countries. As soon as he was old enough to go to school, my travels became less frequent, especially since I had become a single mom living on a drastically reduced income.

My priority was no longer about my own climbing goals, yet I still managed to climb while Owen was in school or between work engagements. Adopting a cat and then a dog made traveling even more complicated. Most of my climbing took place at Boulderā€™s local crags, or more often than not, at the climbing gym, with occasional trips to far away destinations. Speaking engagements, climbing camps, and other work related opportunities enabled me to make short trips across the US, and to several countries in Europe and New Zealand. On one occasion, I flew all the way to southern China just to spend five days climbing in this extraordinary place!

Many people assumed that Owen would become a climber since he is such a talented natural athlete, but climbing was not his passion. Maybe thatā€™s because, as he explains, ā€œclimbing is too slow.ā€ Or perhaps it was the pressure he might have felt as the son of Lynn Hill. Despite our many camping and climbing trips with friends and kids his age, he seemed to enjoy swinging on ropes more than the actual climbing.

A relatively new sport that did appeal to Owen, however, was parkour. We took a basic parkour class together with a few friends back when one of the first parkour gyms in the country opened in Boulder. Shortly after our parkour gym closed, Owen and a bunch of his buddies began to meet at a local gymnastics center, where they created a new form of movement called ā€œtricking.ā€ Similar to the tumbling sequences of gymnastics, tricking is a kind of performance art that involves an innovative series of flipping maneuvers.

I was happy to see the camaraderie that Owen shared with his friends, as well as the confidence he gained, and the physical strength and skills he was developing. It reminded me of the early days of climbing, when our intimate group of friendsā€”now referred to as the Stonemastersā€”were pioneering new routes and pushing the level of free climbing at our local crags.

However, unlike climbing, which is a great lifestyle sport, tricking took a toll on Owenā€™s hips, so he turned his focus to playing music. Perhaps the exposure to different languages and accents on all our travels helped him develop a keen ear for language and music. One day, without any prior piano lessons, Owen blew my mind by playing a beautiful piece of classical music. It brought tears to my eyes. For his first album that he mixed together with a friend, Owen sang, while playing the drums, guitar, and base. Unfortunately, like climbing, making a living from your passion is not an easy path.

Itā€™s also a path inevitably shaped by the technologies that Owen grew up using. As the way we work, conduct research, and communicate constantly changes, our virtual connections are rapidly impacting our in-person interactions. Climbing has also evolved as a result of technology. I remember when my friends and I would joke about the seemingly ridiculous possibility that there would be climbers who only climbed indoors on artificial walls. With the advent of climbing board systems like the , itā€™s possible to repeat the exact same boulder problems with the same configuration of holds anywhere in the world.

Technology has also enabled climbers to ā€œwork from home,ā€ thanks to Starlink technology that provides Internet connection in the most remote places on the planet. Itā€™s no wonder van life is so attractive to many climbers. The cost of living in my hometown of Boulder, like many other desirable places, has become increasingly difficult to afford. Meanwhile, the need for guidebooks has been all but replaced by apps such as Mountain Project, which has given climbers free access to all the beta, from GPS coordinates to recent updates about routes.

With the exponential growth of climbing worldwide, several nonprofit organizations such as The Access Fund, The American Alpine Club, and The Outdoor Alliance have become indispensable in helping manage the environmental, political, and ethical issues that climbers in the US face today. Gone are the days of dirtbags making spontaneous plans to climb in our beloved national parks without making a reservation in advance and paying an entrance fee.

Political and legal issues associated with climbing are not limited to the US. Even in France, where the culture of climbing and mountaineering is revered, many recent closures to climbing on private lands have resulted from threats of lawsuits due to accidents. Thanks to the organizations in the US, we have the legal support to help protect the interests of climbers and outdoor enthusiasts. In December 2024, the finally passed, allowing climbers the legal right to manage the replacement of fixed anchors and bolts on existing routes in designated Wilderness areas (provided they do not diminish the Wilderness character of the area.) The ethic of the Clean Climbing campaign first introduced in the early ā€˜70s by Doug Robinson has come full circle. Climbers are now working with the National Park Service to help strike a balance between the protection of outdoor recreation and the preservation of our natural resources.

Along with the growth of the outdoor industry, more climbers and ā€œextreme athletesā€ are making a living through sponsorships, or as social media influencers. As the level of competition has grown, so too have the level of performance and the level of risk. Itā€™s no surprise that there has been a corresponding increase in the number of serious injuries and deaths in recent years.

The rising temperatures associated with global warming have also contributed to the rising number of deaths in the alpine environment. Due to the rapid melting of glaciers over the last 100 years or more, there has been an increasing number of avalanches and unprecedented rockfall in mountains around the world. When I lost my brother-in-law Chuck on his first mountaineering expedition to Aconcagua, I began to question the level of risk I was willing to take.

Though I have done some free soloing in the past, it was apparent to me from the beginning, that free soloing was not worth the gamble of possibly losing my life. After my near death experience when I fell 72 feet to the ground in Buoux, France, Iā€™ve come to accept the risks associated with climbing. Being a mother has made me even more cautious when it comes to risks. Over the years, Iā€™ve lost an increasing number of friendsā€”some due to climbing accidents, but more often than not, due to cancer, heart disease, car crashes, or other unexpected accidents.

In 2022, Sasha DiGiulian invited me to be her partner in an attempt to free climb Logical Progression, a 28-pitch (5.13b) route in Chihuahua, Mexico. It wasnā€™t the right time for me to be focusing on a big wall project like this. My son was about to graduate from high school and my father-in-law was battling melanoma. This was also during the end of the COVID lockdown period and I hadnā€™t visited my mom and her husband in over a year. The day I called my mother to tell her that I had made the decision not to go to Mexico, I found out that later that same day, my step-father had passed away. I was glad to be there for my mom during this painful time, and to be able to celebrate my sonā€™s graduation ceremony in person.

Rather than go climbing with Sasha in Mexico, I proposed that we establish a new route in our own backyard instead. After picking out a beautiful line up the south face of The Maiden in near our homes in Boulder, I wrote up a proposal to get the necessary permission to establish our new route. Our proposed route went directly up the middle of an improbable looking face with just enough features that it appeared feasible to free climb.

In order to get the permission we needed, we had to find a way to place some natural protection on this overhanging face to allow us to get a better idea of the actual difficulty and where we would place protection bolts. Since this 278-foot tall formation is overhanging and the last section of the route traverses to the side almost the same distance as it overhangs, this proved a more challenging task than I had imagined.

I started out by leading up the first pitch of an existing route called Kor Dalke, that criss-crosses up the south face and intersects with our objective in a few places. I was able to climb up to a belay ledge above Kor Dalke, where I placed adequate natural protection for our first anchor point. To establish the next anchor point, we climbed the third pitch of Kor Dalke, where another natural anchor was installed above the second pitch. The last pitch involved a lot of acrobatic maneuvers and clever rope management techniques in order to get in a few pieces of gear on the dramatically overhanging face.

Upon submitting a second proposal with more specifics about our proposed route, we gained permission to begin working on our project. The following winter, Sasha and I spent numerous days cleaning the rock, establishing protection bolts, and working out a sequence of moves up this beautiful face. Though Sasha is a Millennial from a completely different generation, we had a great time getting to know each other and working together to create a fun climb to share with our community. By the spring of 2023, we had completed the first ascent of a three-pitch (5.13c) route that we named Queen-line.

After retiring from my career as a professional climber, I thought a lot about how I wanted to earn a living. Rather than focusing on the accumulation of financial wealth, I chose to dedicate my time to utilizing my most unique assets to provide a service to others. The countless number of interviews, videos, and podcasts Iā€™ve participated in over the yearsā€”as well as endorsing numerous environmental campaignsā€”has been my way of giving back to the climbing community and helping preserve our natural environment.

Of all the services I have offered over the years, teaching and coaching has been my favorite means of sharing meaningful experiences with others. While Owen was a toddler, I took the American Mountain Guides Association (AMGA) rock instructor course, along with the National Outdoor Leadership School (NOLS) Wilderness First Responder course, so that I could become a certified rock climbing guide. After years of experience as an instructor, I realized that it would be useful to create an educational video to demonstrate the mechanics of climbing technique. Through a lot of experimentation with graphic tools that didnā€™t exist when I first embarked on this project over a decade ago, I was finally able to produce a video called, ā€œFundamentals of Climbing.ā€

In 2006, with the intention of eventually hosting climbing camps, I bought a parcel of land in Hueco, Texas, home to world-class bouldering and fun route climbing on uniquely featured rock unlike anywhere else on the planet. Located 40 minutes outside of El Paso, Hueco Tanks is an oasis with a unique history that has attracted humans and animals for more than 10,000 years.

When Owen was a toddler, I had started a business offering climbing camps in various places across the US and a few in Sardinia, Italy. I knew that by the time Owen graduated from high school, I would have more time to develop my property in Hueco. With this vision in mind, I have made progress in developing my property over the years. After clearing a spot on my land and installing a septic tank, I purchased a 1976 Airstream that had rolled and needed a lot of work to become livable. It took me until just a few years ago to get electricity installed, along with a 3,000-gallon water tank and pump. Last year, I hired a few local climbing friends to build a bathhouse with a shower, sink, and two toilets. As of last week, I have the architectural and structural plans necessary to build a house that can accommodate groups of people, climbing teams, or simply friends who want to climb with me in this amazing place.

In 2019, I returned to the Nose with Nina Caprez for the second time. She had been so close to sending the route the previous year, that I was psyched to go back and support her again. On our final pushā€”we had been on the wall for a weekā€”Nina had led and free climbed every pitch on the route up to the Changing Corners. I was happy to have free climbed all but the two most difficult sections on the Great Roof and the Changing Corners. On Ninaā€™s final attempt to free climb the Changing Corners, she fell only one inch away from sending and was too exhausted to give it another try! I felt bad for Nina since she was clearly capable of free climbing every inch of the Nose. But I had never been away from my son for more than two weeks and it was time for me to return home.

My relationship with Nina had grown through our experiences together and I knew she was struggling to process this experience and move forward in her life. After a difficult period of reflection, she decided to take the opportunity to climb in a tropical limestone paradise on an island called Makatea in French Polynesia. As it turned out, Nina met her partner, Jeremy, with whom she fell in love and had her first child named Lia. Within the next few months, Nina will give birth to their second child. Ironically, Ninaā€™s so-called ā€œfailureā€ on the Nose, led to her realizing perhaps the most meaningful success of her life.

People sometimes ask me if I still climb. I canā€™t imagine ever quitting climbing unless I become physically incapable. I love the feeling of grace and fluidity that I experience when moving over the rock. I canā€™t think of a more appropriate way of learning and adapting in the world than by climbing on the beautiful shapes and forms of nature.

Iā€™m grateful to have been able to follow my passion all these years. Climbing remains my anchor in life that provides a connection to nature, mind/body health, and to so many people in my community of friends and peers all over the world.

My hope for the future is that we will unite and cooperate together as a global community to create a more sustainable way of life for all.

The post Lynn Hill Isnā€™t Done Climbing appeared first on ŗŚĮĻ³Ō¹ĻĶų Online.

Search and rescue crews in Las Vegas continue to have a busy start to 2025.

On Wednesday, February 6, members of the Las Vegas Metropolitan Police Department’s search and rescue squad saved a woman who had fallen from a climbing area in Red Rock Canyon National Conservation Area.

According to a , the woman, who was not named, had fallen while climbing near the White Rock Hills hiking and climbing area. She landed in a boulder field and was unable to hike out.

“The victim fell while climbing and was unable to move due to a back injury,” read a statement from the department.

White Rock Hills is located in a remote corner of the park, approximately 6 miles past the park entrance, down a dirt road. The area is ringed by a four-mile trail that takes climbers to several different climbing routes.

Rangers from the Bureau of Land Management hiked in to the area and made contact with the victim, but they were unable to bring her to safety on foot. Officials decided to send an emergency helicopter to the area. According to the release, three search and rescue officials flew in on the helicopter and helped the ground crews move her to a suitable extraction point.

Dramatic photos showed the helicopter removing the injured climber. According to the release, she was taken to a ground ambulance.

The rescue was the third major lifesaving mission in Red Rock Canyon this year involving rock climbers. On Saturday, January 18, crews responded to near the Pine Creek area of the park.

One rescue involved four climbers who became stranded on the “Cat in the Hat” climbing route after their ropes became entwined. The four were preparing to rappel the route when the incident happened, and they retreated to a ledge. One of the climbers, Joe De Luca, was able to call rescuers from his cell phone.

As De Luca was waiting for rescue crews to reach his party, he witnessed the other incident 100 or so yards away. A climber named Micah Manalese, 30, fell from a route and hit the rocks approximately 130 feet below.

ā€œIt was evident to me that the chance of life was zero, or at least very low, if we didnā€™t do something quickly,ā€ De Luca told Climbing.

De Luca called rescuers after the fall occurred, but they were unable to save Manalese.

Her partner, Robert Hiett, “Ś“Ē°łĢż°ä±ō¾±³¾²ś¾±²Ō²µ.Ģż

“With her training, she somehow still managed to squeeze in time with her family and friends. She could do it all,” Hiett wrote.

Red Rock Canyon is one of the most popular outdoor destinations in the Southwestern U.S., and climbers and hikers flock to the destination in the winter and early spring, before temperatures begin to soar in late April. The canyon’s famed Navajo Sandstone formations are traversed by several dozen climbing routes.

The post Rescue Crews Saved Another Climber in Nevadaā€™s Red Rock Canyon appeared first on ŗŚĮĻ³Ō¹ĻĶų Online.

Ģżexcels at a number of outdoor pursuits, from surfing big waves to climbing exposed peaks. But it wasnā€™t until after meetingĢżā€”a fellow surfer, accomplished rock climber, and runner-up in Maxā€™s inaugural season of the reality competitionĢżThe Climbā€”that his skill and love for sport climbing grew to new heights.

ā€œWeā€™ve come so far working together,ā€ says King, whoā€™s originally from Detroit. ā€œAnd now I sport-climb in all parts of the world. Iā€™ve done things I didnā€™t think I could have done.ā€

Both King and Barry are drawn to aesthetically beautiful climbs, which they find on the Sharkā€™s Fin Arete in Californiaā€™s Alabama Hills wilderness. Theyā€™re reminded that being a solid climbing partner goes beyond the obvious belayer-climber dynamic thatā€™s inherent to climbing. Itā€™s knowing exactly what to say and when to say itā€”or saying nothing at allā€”and ultimately bringing each other home safely.

ā€œItā€™s nice to be able to see these things on your own, but when you get to bring people you care about into these spaces and see how it affects them, it just makes it that much better and that much more profound,ā€ Barry adds, noting a shared desire with King to inspire the next generation of climbers.

Nissan North America, Inc., headquartered in Franklin, Tennessee, delivers innovative automotive products and services that inspire and move people. As a global leader in electric vehicles and advanced automotive technology, Nissan offers a full lineup of vehicles, highlighted by the new . Driven by a commitment to sustainable mobility and thrilling performance, Nissan aims to transform the way people live and drive. For more information, please visit .

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On Monday, January 20, 2025, President Donald Trump to rename Alaskaā€™s 20,310-foot Denali, the highest peak in North America. The mountainā€™s name will revert to Mount McKinley, named for William McKinley, the 25th President of the United States, who was assassinated on September 14, 1901.

The decree undoes the work of former President Barack Obama, who, in 2015 officially changed the name from Mount McKinley to Denali, the peakā€™s traditional name from the Koyukon Athabascan language, which is spoken by Alaska’s Native inhabitants. Denali translates as ā€œthe high oneā€ or ā€œthe great one.ā€

The name change will take effect within 30 days. The name of Denali National Park and Preserve, where the mountain sits, will not change.

Policy wonks (and ) know that there has been infighting in Congress about the name of North Americaā€™s highest peak since at least 1975. That was the first year the state of Alaska petitioned to use the local name Denali instead of McKinley. Lawmakers from Ohio, McKinleyā€™s home state, pushed back.

But how do the people whose lives and livelihoods depend on the mountain feel about Denaliā€™s name change? We asked some of Denaliā€™s, er McKinleyā€™s, most prominent athletes, guides, and rangers.

Why Alaskans Prefer the Name Denali

The guides and mountaineers who spoke to ŗŚĮĻ³Ō¹ĻĶų for this story expressed dismay at the name change.

ā€œItā€™s worth mentioning that the President suggested doing this about six years ago,ā€ says Mark Westman, an Alaska resident and former ranger on the mountain. ā€œAnd he was told by Alaska’s two senatorsā€”both of whom are Republicans and both who are still the current senatorsā€”not to do that.ā€

Indeed, on Monday, January 21, Alaskan Senator Lisa Murkowski, a Republican, : ā€œOur nationā€™s tallest mountain, which has been called Denali for thousands of years, must continue to be known by the rightful name bestowed by Alaska Koyukon Athabascans, who have stewarded the land since time immemorial.ā€

Guides and climbers echoed Murkowskiā€™s sentimentā€”the importance of the name Denali lies in its connection to Alaskaā€™s precolonialĢżhistory, they said.

ā€œThe name Denali reflects a local cultural heritage here that predates the United States,ā€ Westman says. ā€œThe name McKinley was an arbitrary name given for someone who had never even set foot here. He was from Ohio.ā€

Conrad Anker, who began climbing in the Alaska Range in 1987, said he was overjoyed when the peakā€™s Indigenous name was officially restored in 2015. Changing the name back, he said, makes no sense to outdoor enthusiasts, local Alaskans, or the regionā€™s Indigenous population.

ā€œIt was fitting to honor the people of Alaska with the rightful name,ā€ he said. ā€œI think itā€™s worth noting that the vast majority of peaks in the Himalayas have local names.”

Guide Melissa Arnot Reid, the first American woman to ascend and descend Everest without supplemental oxygen, said that precolonial names such as Denali enhance a visitorā€™s connection to a place. Thatā€™s why she encourages her climbing clients to refer to peaks and regions by traditional names.

ā€œDiscovering what the local people call a place, and why, enhances our connection to that place,ā€ she says.

Does Anyone Even Use the Name Mount McKinley?

Even before the 2015 name change, climbers and guides frequently used the peak’s Native name, guides told us. Westman, who first came to the peak in 1994, said that while the names were used interchangeably by locals back then, the preference was to call it Denali.

ā€œThereā€™s been a difference in the name Denali for, well, forever,ā€ he said. ā€œNative Alaskans were calling it Denali for thousands of years before anybody else came here. In the climbing community, itā€™s almost universalā€”I almost never hear anybody call it McKinley.ā€

In the days following the announcement, many Alaskan residents appear to agree. On Tuesday, January 21, the group asked 1,816 adults in Alaska about the proposed name change. The survey found that 54 percent opposed it, while just 26 percent supported the change.

Ski mountaineer Kit DesLauriers, the first person to hike and then ski the Seven Summits, pointed out that even Alaskaā€™s political leaders have used the name Denali publicly for decades. ā€œWith Denali, the traditional name has been the choice not only of Alaskan Native people, but also of the entire state including its political leadership since at least 1975,ā€ she says.

Dave Hahn of RMI Mountain Guides, who has ascended the peak 25 times, said that the mountain is ā€œbig enough to handle however many names you want to throw at it.ā€

But he stressed that Denali felt like it was always the appropriate title within the climbing community. ā€œI never felt that McKinley was wrongā€”it honored a president that was assassinated while in office,ā€ he said. ā€œBut I think that Denali is truer to where the mountain is, and who the people around the mountain are, recognizing that itā€™s an Alaskan mountain and not a Washington D.C. mountain.ā€

Most People Will Still Say Denali

The sources who spoke to ŗŚĮĻ³Ō¹ĻĶų for this story agreed on one thing: they will continue to call the peak by its Native name going forward.

ā€œI intend to continue to refer to the great mountain as Denali for as long as Iā€™m alive, and I encourage every other climber to do the same,ā€ wrote authorĢżJon KrakauerĢżin an email. ā€œTrump might be able to officially rename it, but he will never be able to force me to call it anything except Denali.ā€

Ultrarunner Jack Kuenzle, who in 2023 set the fastest known time for ascending the peak, echoed the sentiment.

ā€œI canā€™t imagine anybody will be actually utilizing McKinley,ā€ he said. ā€œIā€™ve never heard it called that.ā€

Keith Sidle, who teaches mountaineering courses with the Alaska Mountaineering School, said the only thing he expects to see change is how the mountain is named on maps and signs. Sidle said his climbing buddies are already saying online that they will continue to use the Native name.

ā€œItā€™s changing a name on a piece of paper, itā€™s not changing the mountain,ā€ he said. ā€œTo the people that it really matters to, itā€™s not changing anything.ā€

The post Trump Just Renamed North Americaā€™s Highest Peak. These Climbers Will Still Call It ā€œDenali.ā€ appeared first on ŗŚĮĻ³Ō¹ĻĶų Online.

My wife, Hilary, was essentially handing me a gift, and I didnā€™t know what to do with it: She was taking our toddler, Jay, to the Oregon coast for a week, and I was invited to not join them.

Meaning: I had a full week to do anything I wanted, for the first time since Jay was born 14 months prior. No toddler wrangling, no constant vigilance to make sure he didnā€™t fall off something, or stick his finger in something, or eat something indigestible. I could stay up late, sleep in, eat takeout, whatever. OR: I could go on a big adventure somewhere, like I used to do: I could fly (by myself!) somewhere for a few days, or take a road trip, or pack a backpack and spend five days in the backcountry. What should I do?

One of my favorite memes of the past five years is the . It started as someone revisiting their childhood memory of asking their mother to take them to McDonaldā€™s, only to have their mother say, ā€œWe have food at home.ā€ And then the meme of course evolved from there, in incredibly diverse ways.

Iā€™d lived in Missoula for about five years of my adult life in total (over two stints), and I still felt like I hadnā€™t seen that much of itā€”grad school, then Covid, then pregnancy, and a new baby kept me around town (or thatā€™s what I told myself).

And then with an entire week off to go exploring, I got choice paralysis, and finally just decided to stay home. Luckily, we have trails at home.

I picked out some mountains, some close, some a little farther away, some legit rocky peaks and some just really steep tall grassy summits, and asked some friends to join me for different ones. I shot some video every day, put it on a hard drive, and thought ā€œIā€™ll make sense of this someday.ā€

When I finally sat down with all the clips, I found myself digging way back in my own history to figure out a through line. As youā€™ll see if you watch the video, it goes up.

The post I Just Like Standing on Summits. All Summits. appeared first on ŗŚĮĻ³Ō¹ĻĶų Online.

My whole perspective on ā€œbelaytionshipsā€ (and how to improve them) changed when a friend referred to the task as a ā€œsacred duty.ā€ Itā€™s common to view our turn on the ground as nothing more than filler time between pitches, or worse: a burden that we must bear in exchange for the joys of climbing. But belaying is more than just a necessary evil. The special relationship between belay partners is what elevates climbing from a myopic pursuit of personal excellence to a reciprocal experience. Supporting someone else on their journey toward the send can feel just as powerful as making that journey ourselves.Ģż

The best belaytionships have respect for both sides of the equation. Not only that, both parties put in the effort to learn and implement what their partner needs from a belayer to feel safe and secure while climbing. Thatā€™s no easy feat, considering how vulnerable the act of pushing limits high off the deck can leave a climber. The barrage of emotion often amplifies our fears and needs far beyond what they would be on the ground. A strong belaytionship takes all the havoc in stride.Ģż

But it doesnā€™t happen overnight. Just like in any other relationship, climbing partners have to go through their fair share of struggles in order to reach a state of mutual respect and support. Learn from some of the most long-standing belaytionships in the sport about how to weather the storms that plague even the most dynamic of duos in the sport, and foster the kind of partnership that will last as long as your love for climbing.Ģż

1. Prioritize the Person

Yes, your project is important. Itā€™s what motivates you to crawl out of your cozy bed in time to catch the cool morning temps, stay out late until the sun sets over the cliff, and dedicate every spare hour to deciphering its coded messages. But weā€™d all do well to remember one thing: itā€™s still just a rock.Ģż

ā€œAt the end of the day,ā€ says climber Andy Salo, ā€œyouā€™re going home with your partnerā€”not your project. Whatever emotions and stresses youā€™re dealing with as a result of your project bounces off on your partner, and they have to carry that.ā€

Salo and his partner Whitney Boland have been climbing together for over a decade. Theyā€™re able to support each other best when the one on the wall exercises enough restraint to keep their worst wobblers in check. A charged reaction to what happens on your project may not be a personal attack on your belayer, but it sure can feel that way to them. Taking their presence for granted will inevitably push them away. Rocks are great and all, but theyā€™ve got nothing on real live human beings. No project is worth losing your partner over.Ģż

2. Let It Go

That being said, wobblers will happen. Even the most restrained among us isnā€™t immune to the frustrations involved in climbing. When your partnerā€™s feelings come out in a big way, stay grounded. Maggie and Chuck Odette, Maple Canyon legends who have been steadfast partners in all things climbing and life for the past 14 years, suggest ā€œputting up a force-fieldā€ when emotions run high.Ģż

ā€œItā€™s not about ignoring the other personā€™s feelings,ā€ Maggie clarifies, ā€œbut more about protecting your own emotional state. Itā€™s basically an agreement that just because Iā€™m having a low-confidence or less-than-optimal day, I donā€™t expect you to join in!ā€Ģż

In that sense, belayers might have to take one for the team sometimes. Pick your battles. Some things are worth addressing with your climbing partner for the sake of improving your dynamic. Other gripes might be better kept silent if theyā€™re more likely to cause trouble than good once theyā€™re out in the open. In the wise words of good olā€™ Dr. Phil: Do you want to be right, or do you want to be together?Ģż

3. Trust Their Tactics

Itā€™s not just the climber that experiences heightened emotions. Belayers often go through their own emotional rollercoasters, especially when theyā€™re in charge of protecting someone they care deeply about. You want to support them in their effortsā€¦but you also want to get them back down to the ground safely. And in a sport like climbing, where there are very real risks involved, the two donā€™t always mix.

Salo and Boland emphasize the importance of trusting your partnerā€™s instincts. ā€œWhitney learned that if I felt confident enough for a scary lead, she could trust that I was going to be as safe as possible doing itā€”even though that was nerve-wracking for her,ā€ says Salo. ā€œAny fear she felt for me was best kept to herself,ā€ he explains, because the expression of it would throw off the focus and confidence he needed to climb safely.Ģż

Trust is the foundation of any stable relationship, belaytionships included. Talk to your climber ahead of time about their expectations for the route and affirm your belief in their ability to make sound decisions. Address any concerns before they ever leave the ground. Then, when theyā€™re off, follow through with that trust. Itā€™s key to ensuring their safety.Ģż

4. Plan Ahead

Just because youā€™re climbing together doesnā€™t mean that your agendas will always align. Be careful not to assume that you and your partner have the exact same plan in mind. The Odetteā€™s learned early on that they donā€™t tend to wake up at the same pace in the morning. Rather than let that turn into a chronic disagreement, they make sure to make a game plan for what the next day will look like before going to bed the night before.Ģż

Do your best to line up your ideal day with your partnerā€™s. If possible, find climbs that are close enough to each other at the crag so that you can both have equal time on your projects. ā€œIf itā€™s impossible to hit both in the same day,ā€ adds Salo, ā€œgive up one weekend day to your partner and trade off the next day. You might not send as quick, but youā€™ll keep from burning out your belaytionship.ā€

5. Fail Together, Send Together

ā€œAlways remember that even though you and your partner are in the same place, at the same time, doing the same thing, itā€™s not very likely that youā€™re experiencing it exactly the same way,ā€ says Odette.Ģż

To find common ground, treat climbing as a team effort. ā€œMost of climbing is failing,ā€ Odette reminds us. ā€œIf youā€™re going to fail in front of anyone, your person is the best choice. And when one of you sends, itā€™s a win for the team!ā€Ģż

Put yourself in their shoes. Take on their failures and celebrate their sends. You might not know exactly how theyā€™re feeling, but the effort goes a long way. Ask them about their experience and absorb every nitty-gritty detail. The better you understand their emotional state while climbing, the better you can share in their journey and tackle each pitch in harmony.

6. Nurture the Relationship

ā€¦not just the belaytionship. Salo firmly believes that ā€œclimbing will expose any shortcomings in the relationship between belay partners as a whole.ā€ Whether you climb with your life partner or a close friend, your connection extends beyond the crag. Even if you only see your belay partner during climbing sessions, Iā€™m willing to bet that your conversations between pitches go much deeper than ā€œbelay on, climb on.ā€

With that in mind, problems in a belaytionship often stem from elsewhere in the relationship. ā€œIf you havenā€™t figured out how to support your partner in other avenues of life, it likely will not happen in climbing either,ā€ warns Salo. Dissect the conflicts that crop up with your partner while climbing. Are they really about the amount of slack in the rope or what your partner said while they were cruxing? Or do they have more to do with something going on at home? Try as you might, you canā€™t separate the two completely.Ģż

In the short-term, aim to resolve any outside disputes before you get to the cragā€”or at least press pause. The physical and emotional demands of climbing will only escalate those struggles until theyā€™re worse than they were before. In the long-term, pick up on the patterns that dictate your crag conflicts. What do they say about more serious insecurities or disagreements plaguing your relationship? Get to the root of the issue. Nurture the relationship to save the belaytionship.Ģż

Also Read

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Diesel fumes. Cyanide. Falling dirt, laced with coal. Mysterious flecks of neon plastic.

These are a few of the things you might accidentally inhale while climbing Utahā€™s Pricecicle, a 60-foot pillar right off Highway 6.

If you like your ice like I like my martinis, then the Pricecicle will not disappoint. Is this the greatest dirtcicle in the West?

There are, in fact, more elements to the weirdness that is the Pricecicle. Take, for example, the adjacent graffiti-tagged bridge, or the drive-by spectators who stop to take a selfie while eyeing you with equal parts curiosity and bewilderment.

Then thereā€™s the (circa 2009) between two decidedly sus contributors dubbed Bill Bones and Stevie Nacho regarding frozen poop and secret bolts. Or consider the who likes to swing her tools there, from time to time.

Weird or not, in the waning days of 2024, my husband Casey and I found ourselves driving two hours from the Park City area to the Pricecicle with our friends Vicki and Adam to catch some ice to close out the year.

I blame climate change, which delivered a balmy December. With a 50-degree high just a week or so earlier, the usually abundant ice up Provo Canyon was far from in. A sad, thin veneer of slush and drip clung to Provoā€™s rock face. Maple Canyonā€™s ice climbs werenā€™t in either. And the Great White Icicle was anything but.

In Utah, in addition to living in a literal desert that becomes more desert-y with each additional part per million of carbon dioxide added to our atmosphere, we also live in an ice park desertā€”at least compared to my former home of Colorado, where make ice climbing a reliably accessible pursuit.

So the Pricecicle it was.

Though weā€™d never climbed this WI3/4 pillar before, all of us had driven by it countless times, usually en route to Ouray. We never stop. Usually, because it looks not that goodā€”and dirty. But had we written off the Pricecicle too quickly?

ā€œNot as bad as people say,ā€ writes Salt Lake City-based climber Alex Mankouski on . ā€œWorth doing,ā€ weighs in another local climber.

Generally speaking, we found these positive reviews to be accurate. Not only was the pillar in, but it was thick and the conditions were good: cold and dry.

Conveniently for time-strapped ice climbers with little kids like ourselves, the Pricecicle is just a 90-second approach from the pullout off Highway 6. The risk-averse will be happy to know that no avalanche risk exists. Top-ropers can take a muddy walk-up to the bolted anchors. And the nearest medical center lies just 17 miles to the south in the pillarā€™s eponymous town of Price.

As we swerved into the pullout at speed, we celebrated the absence of any other cars or parties on the pillar. Seconds later, a Toyota Tacoma pulled in ahead of us. Bummer! We rushed to pack up our gear and hike alongside the highway to reach the base of the climb first. But dude in the Tacoma shimmied up the walk-up, meaning heā€™d reach the anchors first.

Thankfully, our Pricecicle-mate was courteous and called down to see which side of the pillar we wanted. As Adam racked up screws to lead the right side, he rapped down the other side and cursed himself: Heā€™d forgotten his tools up top! Luckily for him, we had three pairs to spare.

As it turned out, the other folks who had rolled up in the Tacoma were the climberā€™s family members and they were staying in the car while he sampled the Pricecicle. So he rope soloed himself up with a Grigri, then peaced out.

I donā€™t remember the last time I climbed in a belay jacket, but I needed one by my second lap up the roadside pillar. The temps were in the low 20s, with a wind chill of eight degrees Fahrenheit. Cold, but not as frigid as the prime screaming barfy conditions Iā€™ve experienced on many an early Ouray morning. I blame the Pricecicleā€™s location in a little urban enclave, where the sun never shines. That, and the wind gusts that blew our way each time a semi roared by 30 feet behind us.

Shortly after we pointed the car north back toward home, Vicki was perusing the Utah Ice Climbers Facebook group. ā€œThatā€™s Adam!ā€ she exclaimed. Dude in the Tacoma had snapped a photo of Adam climbing without any of us realizing it and posted it in real time.

At the end of the day, we were glad weā€™d made the trek to the Pricecicle, and finally climbed the pillar weā€™d passed on the highway so many times.

When the climate crisis means that none of the ice is in lower down, this weird pillar is a nice option to have in our back pockets. Yet between the questionable substances (cyanide, diesel, plastic, etc.), the proximity to the highway, the sneaky social media post, and the overarching vibe of the Pricecicle, itā€™s also the most dystopian place Iā€™ve ever climbed.

But as Bill Bones of the climbā€™s storied Mountain Project comments says, for us Utahns, ā€œIce is too rare to be picky.ā€

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Colorado elk are renowned for their deafening bugle and pointy antlersā€”but alas, not for their belaying skills.

On January 3, Ben Hake, the head of recreation in Lake City, Colorado received a call from two climbers atĢżthe . A bull elk, they said, had become ensnared in a climbing rope and was stuck on a steep hillside.

“I couldn’t believe what they were telling me,” Hake said. “We’ve never seen elk on that trail. It’s an old deer trail but we didn’t seen seeĢżtoo many animals use it once the ice climbers started using it.”

But sure enough, when Hake arrived at the scene a short time later, he saw the massive elk tangled in an orange rope on an access trail to a pair ofĢżice climbing walls called Beer Garden and Dynamite Shack. Climbers run a rope along the steep and slippery pathway and use the hand line when ascending or descending, Hake said.

A local official with the Colorado Department of Parks and Wildlife had called the regional office in Gunnison, which sent along wildlife biologists. Alyssa Meier, one of the biologists who arrived on the scene, said she was not surprised to receive a call about a stuck elk. But the details of the elk’s entanglement were strange.

“Hammocks, Christmas lights, patio furnitureā€”it’s pretty common for males to get stuck,” she toldĢż°æ³Ü³Ł²õ¾±»å±š.Ģż“A climbing rope was a new one.”

Meier drove to Lake City alongside another biologist, Anna Markey, and seasonal technician Paul Rivera. A crowd of climbers and town officials had congregated below the elk by the time they arrived an hour or so later.

Meier tranquilized the elk “so they could approach the stressed animal.” They placed a balaclava over the elk’s face to protect its eyes from the sun and to calm it, and then the three cut the rope to free the elk.

But that’s when a new challenge aroseā€”the crew had to stabilize the sedated elk, or else it would slip down the trail and tumble off of a 15-foot ledge.

“If he would have slid off the ledge, this wouldn’t be a happy story,” Markey toldĢż°æ³Ü³Ł²õ¾±»å±š.Ģż

Local climbers tied their own ropes to the elk, ran the rigging over a tree, and created a hauling system. Then Hake and six others pulled on the rope to raise the elk a few inches, so that they could then attach another rope to lower it down.

“It was so heavyā€”there were seven of us and we were giving it everything we could just to get tension onto the elk,” he said. “I don’t know what he weighed, but he was big.”

Meier estimated the elk weighed between 650 and 800 pounds, and it had scratches on its snout and face, likely from antler jabs during the rutting season. “He wasn’t the biggest elk I’ve seen, but he was doing well,” she said.

The haul system worked, and the crew was able to safely lower the sedated elk to flat ground. Meier said she administered an antidote for the tranquilizer, and after ten minutes or so, the elk stood up and ran away.

John Livingston, a spokesman for the Colorado Parks and Wildlife department, praised the two ice climbers who initially found the elk. Rather than try and free the animal themselves, he said, they phoned several agencies until they were put in contact with Parks and Wildlife. “You’re talking about a stressed animal with sharp hooves and antlersā€”I appreciate them calling the proper folks to handle this,” he said.

Meier has conducted multiple rescues of elk and deer this year. What stands out about the Lake City elk, she said, was how the community worked together to save the animal. Had it fallen off the ledge, or become too stressed, it could have died.

“The community rallied around this bull elk that they wanted to set free,” she said. “It was such a nice moment when he popped up and ran off.”

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This past fall,ĢżConnor Herson decided to take a four-month break from his studies at Stanford University to go rock climbing. Herson, 21, is pursuing a degree in engineering, but his studies have often butted up against his desire to climb the toughest ascents in the country.

For the past three years, balancing college and climbing has meant squeezing as much of the latter as possible into winter, spring, and summer breaksā€”plus the occasional weekend trip to Yosemite during the school year. At age 15, Herson became the youngest person to free climb the Nose route on El Capitan.

ā€œIā€™ve always balanced school and climbing but itā€™s gotten a lot trickier as Iā€™ve gotten deeper into both worlds,ā€ Herson told ŗŚĮĻ³Ō¹ĻĶų. ā€œI really wanted to see what I could do in a full season of Yosemite climbing.ā€

Herson made the most of this most recent break from class. In November, he free climbed one of the hardest routes up 3,000-foot El CapitanĢżalongside famed American climber Tommy Caldwell. The ascentā€”which only a handful of other climbers have done before as a free climbā€”cemented Herson as Yosemiteā€™s next great star.

ā€œConnor is part of this super young generation thatā€™s incredibly strong from having been brought up in modern-day climbing gyms,ā€ Caldwell told ŗŚĮĻ³Ō¹ĻĶų. ā€œBut heā€™s also an outlier among people his age in that heā€™s chosen to apply that strength and skill to big-wall climbing, which is so awesome to see.ā€

On El Capitan, Herson and Caldwell free climbed a route known as the Heart, one of the most technically difficult lines up the granite behemoth. Of the Heartā€™s 31 pitches, a whopping eight of them are at the 5.13 level. Ģż

The Heart was first free climbed in 2015 by Mason Earle and Brad Gobright, following five years of planning and attempts. Free climbing is a style that requires climbers to rely on ropes and equipment only for safetyā€”they cannot haul themselves up the route with gear. Other than Gobright, Earle, Caldwell, and Herson, the only other person to have successfully free climbed the Heart is Alex Honnold, in 2023.

Herson and Caldwell spent three days ascending the Heart, hauling their food, water, and portaledgesĢżas they went. Herson told ŗŚĮĻ³Ō¹ĻĶų that free climbing on El Capitan with Caldwell was the realization of a lifelong dream.

ā€œHe was one of my heroes growing up,ā€ Herson said. ā€œOf all the El Cap legends, no one stands out as much as Tommy Caldwell.ā€

Herson grew up in the San Francisco Bay Area. His parents were avid climbers, and theyĢżbrought Herson and his sister, Kara, to the local climbing gym from the time they were toddlers. Herson started participating in competitive climbing events in middle school, and holds three national titles in sport climbing at the youth and collegiate levels.

He and his family also regularly traveled to Yosemite on weekends, and they took vacations to classic crags all across the U.S. Herson learned to trad climb (short for ā€œtraditionalā€) on these trips, placing his own gear for protection on the rock. His parents also introduced him to big-wall climbingā€”multi-pitch routes that cover thousands of verticalĢżfeet. Herson was just 12 years old when he first climbed Yosemiteā€™s 2,000-foot Half Dome alongside his dad, Jim, who is a robotics engineer.

“My parents give me a lot of support with life in general and in climbing,” Herson told Climbing in 2022. “They have made a lot of sacrifices. There are times when we go to crags which might not have the best routes for them.”

Hersonā€™s classes in engineering at Stanford donā€™t leave him as much time as heā€™d like to devote to big-wall climbing. He prepared for what he called his “gap quarter” this fall in Yosemite by cramming in a weekend of climbing there with Alex Honnold in May. Among other projects, the two completed the second free ascent of a route called New Leaf. Afterward, Herson had to hurry back to school for a midterm exam.

ā€œBeing in physical shape is one thing,ā€ Herson said. ā€œBut more for me is the mental stress of school assignments or just anything school-related.ā€

He added, ā€œEven if I’m not overtly thinking about that while climbing, it’s in the back of my mind.ā€

Herson spent the spent the past two summers in Canada’s climbing capital of Squamish, British Columbia, a world-renowned destination with multiple big walls. By the time he roped up with Caldwell for the Heart, Herson was already in very elite company, having ticked off all of the hardest single-pitch trad climbs in both Squamish and Yosemite, including Squamishā€™s iconic Cobra Crack. His preparations paid off on El Capitan.

ā€œHe was the most solid person I’ve ever seen climbing up there,ā€ Caldwell said. ā€œHeā€™s also very level-headed and safeā€”like he wore a helmet all the time.ā€

Caldwell also started climbing big walls in Yosemite as a teenager with his dad. But that was 30 years ago, when rock climbingĢżwas much more of a fringe sport. ā€œHeā€™s just so much more advanced than I was,ā€ Caldwell said.

Still, some things never change. Big-wall climbing comes with logistical challenges, particularly how to haul your food and supplies up the route. Herson was eager to learn Caldwellā€™s best practices. ā€œThere are a lot of small tactical strategies that he’s such a master at,ā€ Herson said. ā€œIt was so cool to be able to climb with him and leverage that, and just learn so much from him.ā€

One of Hersonā€™s biggest takeaways from the experience is that even Caldwell struggles on El Cap. ā€œHe doesn’t struggle that much, but when he does, and it was something I struggled on too, itā€™s just really validating,ā€ said Herson.

Herson plans to resume his studies at Stanford in January, following the holiday break. In the meantime, heā€™ll continue climbing in Yosemite until the snow starts to fall. After the Heart, Herson told ŗŚĮĻ³Ō¹ĻĶų that he would like to try every free-climbing route on El Capitan. ā€œNot all in one season or anything,ā€ he said. ā€œJust slowly working away at trying all of them.ā€

ā€œThe combination of challenges on El Cap, of placing your own protection to keep it safe while at the same time pulling moves that are close to your limit, really speaks to me,ā€ he added.

 

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Caldwell canā€™t help but wonder what Herson would be able to accomplish in Yosemite if he pursued climbing full-time. ā€œUp on the ledge [on El Cap], we mostly discussed how many semesters to take off from Stanford to climb,” Caldwell said. “As a parent, Iā€™m in this weird position because Iā€™m sure his parents donā€™t want him to drop out of school.”

Caldwell added, “But Iā€™m also like, you could change climbing forever.ā€

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Last month, opened Boyce Bouldering Parkā€”a 6,000-square-foot expanse of artificial boulders. Carved into the edge of Pittsburghā€™s urban sprawlā€”just fifteen minutes from downtownā€”this free outdoor bouldering gym was designed with an ambitious vision: to bring outdoor adventure to all.

The park boasts more than 100 problems, ranging in difficulty from VB to V10+, which will be reset twice a year by professional setters. It is part of a $4.7 million project inspired by a 2020 Pennsylvania Environmental Council (PEC) study, which highlighted a significant lack of accessible outdoor recreation in and around Pittsburgh. To address this need, planners chose to create a bouldering park and nearby pump track, paired with upgraded restrooms and other park facilities, aiming to foster a sense of community and adventure close to home.

From start to finish, the park revitalization project was designed with climbers in mindā€”but Dean Privett, a local gym owner, consultant, and longtime setter, did more to shape the parkā€™s climbing functionality than anyone else.

Privett has been in the climbing industry for more than 13 years, designing climbing facilities worldwide, including one of his own in Pittsburgh. When he heard that Allegheny County had plans to build a free climbing-oriented outdoor park, he picked up the phone and got into the right room.

It was a good thing he did.

Lacking climbing expertise, the county was planning to install a 30-foot climbing tower with autobelays. But, in an 11th hour meeting, Privett convinced them that bouldering was a safer, more accessible, more affordable, and more climber-friendly alternative.

We arenā€™t motivated by profit; weā€™re motivated by getting folks outside.

ā€œI knew I wanted to make sure whatever got built was as functional as possible,ā€ he told Climbing. ā€œArchitect-led artificial climbing wall constructions tend to be more in the miss column than the hit column with true avid indoor and outdoor rock climbers.ā€ His company, Boulder Solutions, ultimately consulted on the projectā€” with ambitious, progress-oriented setting at the forefront of the design. By prioritizing wall shapes that support varied movement and difficulty, the wall design itself ensured that a dedicated team of setters could regularly rotate problems.

Privett and Allegheny County plan to update the routes at Boyce twice a year, aiming to keep the space fresh and challenging for climbers of all skill levels.

For Privett, this approach was crucial.

ā€œI wanted to create a range of routes that catered to the existing climbing community and also welcomed the ā€˜stumble-upā€™ climber,ā€ he said. ā€œWith the outdoor design, we could control that experience through the wall shapes and by balancing slabs with overhangs.ā€

The park currently boasts over 100 new climbs, ranging from the smaller, kid-oriented ā€œJune Boulderā€ā€”named after Privettā€™s daughterā€”to a V10+ set by IFSC World Cup route setter . Setters from , , , , and the former director of setting for the Cliffs, also contributed to the parkā€™s initial setting.

ā€œMy goal was to provide Pittsburgh with a diverse palette of climbs from incredibly experienced setters,ā€ Privett said. ā€œSo we set in a traditional commercial climbing gym methodology, maybe with a slight emphasis on fun over difficulty; we wanted to have things up there that would challenge people so they would come back.ā€

ā€œMy philosophy here was really to introduce people to it as physical problem-solving and not as a physical challenge,ā€ he added, ā€œto hopefully create that hook-line-and-sinker feel of having an enjoyment for solving a puzzle.ā€

His plan is working. On a recent visit to BBP, he heard a young girl, wearing sneakers, ask her parents to put climbing shoes on her Christmas list.

ā€œThereā€™s a bit of a mentorship barrier thatā€™s been true of traditional rock climbing,ā€ Privett said. ā€œBut here, thereā€™s a nice crossover [between communities]. When climbing is in the public sphere, and in public spacesā€”itā€™s easier for people to give it a try.ā€

Since Boyce is within the jurisdiction of Allegheny County Parks, the challenges that traditional gyms face with liability insurance were minimalā€”itā€™s generally accepted that public areas operate with a ā€œuse at your own riskā€ legal structure.

ā€œWithin commercial climbing gyms, thereā€™s a lot of liability that weā€™re obviously exposed to, but parks operate in a different realm,ā€ Privett said. ā€œThere are federal laws that protect them. They have tolerances for those types of activitiesā€”and that allowed the upkeep and route setting to be a part of the overall budget.ā€

All of that allows the park to serve its primary goal: making outdoor recreation in Pittsburgh accessible to underserved communities.

ā€œThe climbing work is emblematic of that,ā€ said Brett Hollern, Vice President for the PEC Western Pennsylvania Central Region. ā€œSo how does somebody without transportation, without equipment, having never done this before, how do they even approach recreating outdoors or climbing? We bring that experience to them.ā€

Privett echoed the sentiment: ā€œIn places like Pittsburgh, itā€™s just much less common to think about climbing as an activity that you would or could want to do. But our industry could benefit from more awareness around what climbing is. Itā€™s all of our job to educate and introduce people to it.ā€

Hollern hopes that the Boyce Bouldering Park model can inspire other municipalities to consider climbing in their park budgets. ā€œWe operate on the premise that people who recreate on public lands will, in turn, become stewards of those lands. Outdoor spaces like this can activate communities, whether through economic development or quality of life, and Allegheny County really took that idea and ran with it.ā€

Joe Perkovich, the Allegheny County Landscape Architect who supported the project, said the proposalā€™s non-existent barrier to entry was a key reason for the county parks service involvement. ā€œAll of our parks are publicly funded assets and are there for people to use and enjoy,ā€ he continued. ā€œWe arenā€™t motivated by profit; weā€™re motivated by getting folks outside.ā€

For most, the bouldering park is just another addition to Pittsburghā€™s growing outdoor sceneā€”but itā€™s a game-changer for advocates and climbers like Privett. Itā€™s a space where the barriers to entry are lowered, and anyone, regardless of background or experience, can step up, fall down, and fall in love with the sport.

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