Back before climbing went mainstream (Olympics, gyms, Hollywood documentaries, , yippee!), we climbers were known for our social awkwardness and unapologetic penury. The community was an eclectic mix of rule-following problem-solvers (e.g., mathematicians and engineers) and barely functioning societal dropouts who survived on peanut butter and ramen while sleeping in caves, stripped-down cargo vans, or passenger cars with plywood “box springs” in lieu of seats.

So perhaps a good joke, playing off the classic riff about engineers, might have been:

Q: How do you know when a climber likes you?

A: She stares at your rock shoes instead of her own when she’s talking to you.

With such an oddball crew, there were (and remain) Yet the good news—I guess?—with the sport’s recent boom is that there are more of us than ever, expanding the pool of eligible single climbers.

This also means that there are now at least 10 reasons why dating a climber might possibly be a good idea.

1. Climbers Are Low-Cost/Low-Maintenance

Climbers have traditionally been non-materialistic; the thinking was that we’d rather be poor and have the free time to climb than labor away earning enough cheddar to slurp consommĂ© alongside tiny-fork bluebloods at some Michelin-starred snob-hole. On the one hand, this is great news. Our low-overhead minimalism makes us cheap dates. Want to stage a “romantic” “picnic” with a moldy loaf of French bread, spray-can cheese, and gooey tomatoes harvested from a dumpsterÌę (“it’s caprese!”) while watching pirated Netflix on a phone using the free Wi-Fi in the McDonald’s parking lot? We’re all-in—and easily impressed—as long as it doesn’t overlap with good condies.

The con? Any money we do have—or that we siphon off you—usually goes right back into the sport: These days, most climbers easily drop a few thousand bucks a year on gym memberships, shoes, chalk, pants, cams, ropes, pads, fingerboards, fans, travel, and skin care.

2. We Like to Travel (To Rocks)

Another thing traditionally associated with climbers: wanderlust. And since travel is the glue that binds many a relationship, we’re a catch. The only caveat is that there needs to be rock (or a gym) at our destination or we go full “Torrance,” like Jack Nicholson in The Shining. For instance, if you told me I had a once-in-a-lifetime, all-expenses-paid trip to Fiji, where I’d be taught surfing by Laird Hamilton, my first question would be, “Is there any rock in Fiji?” And my second would be, “Or at least a doorjamb in the bungalow for my hangboard?”

As a further example: years ago, after a month of Eurail touristing around Europe, I landed on the Greek isle of Paros (where the Euros gaily tan and windsurf during their August holidays). At that point, I was so hard up to touch rock that I did pointless traverses in a crumbly beachside cave right where everyone takes a dump
 in the 100-degree heat. Talk about a “shitty” landing—and a near-psychotic desperation to clamber.

3. We’re Fit

Climbers must be some of the most training-obsessed athletes around, even at the amateur level where literally nothing is at stake. Witness the endless training ateliers, podcasts, apps and tools, and our obsession with etc. We end up with toned, attractive, eminently datable physiques, even if all we’re doing is eking out sad, expensive, barely noticeable one-percent gains after months of self-flagellation. The downside: We are so rigid about our workouts that we do weird things like fingerboard while riding as passengers in cars, or even “car-king”: ARC endurance training by squeezing a grip ring while driving.

4. We Know How to Do Proper Pull-ups

Unlike CrossFitters, whose half-assed “pull-ups” make them look like fish death-flopping in a dinghy (see video below) and will never get them stronger, our rizz us up with sexy, well-defined shoulders and backs (see reason No. 3).

Also, I may be biased (I probably am), but I feel like our sport is smarter than CrossFit: We need to execute complex, choreographed beta under the pressure and duress of facing a fall, whereas all CrossFitters need to do is figure out how to roll a tractor tire around an office-industrial parking lot without getting rhabdo.

5. We’re Good at Communicating

At least on a rope, since we need to be clear with our belay commands in a life-or-death situation. How well we express our needs off the rock will vary. Everyone’s different! Plus we tend to forget that the non-climbing public won’t always understand our lingo. So if your climber boo says, “My feelings for you are deeper than the anchor jug on ł§Ÿ±±ô±đČÔłŠ±đ,” they love you. But if they say, “Hanging out with you is worse than a front-team double split on a greasy Bishop afternoon,” they hate your stupid face.

6. We’re Really into Skin Care

Other than models, actors, and perfectly complected skinfluencers, climbers might be than anyone on Earth. If you date a climber, you’ll never need to buy balm, salve, lotion, ointment, emery boards, nail files, tape, Band-Aids, or nail clippers again. We have all that stuff stashed in multiple spots—medicine cabinet, cragging pack, gym pack, and cars. It’s not all designed for making your face radiant and free of age lines, but you will most definitely have the best finger and palm skin in town.

7. You’ll Be Plugged into an Instant Community

Just as , , usually from our apparel, veiny forearms, and chalky, hands. In this way, we tend to bond quickly, forming communities and networks both large and small. So if you pair up with a climber, you will be plugged in to a big family, which is great if you are a social person, but perhaps not so great if you’d rather not see your guest room turned into a hostel for a rotating cast of aromatic vagabonds who range from lost skatepunk bouldering kids, to dreadlocked Germans chain-smoking Drum cigarettes, to penny-pinching bro-grammers soaking up all your Wi-Fi while they work on rest days.

8. We’re Youthful and Free-Spirited

Climbers are often accused of hiding from real life by being out at the rock all day, which is 100 percent true. But this carefree lifestyle also keeps us young at heart and fun to be around. Thus, while some might call us immature, I prefer to think of climbers as ČâŽÇłÜłÙłóŽÚłÜ±ô.Ìę

Take it from me. At age 53, I can spend all day bolting choss, stop in at the gym to train, come home and pop in a frozen pizza and wash off some baby carrots for the kids like the “World’s Greatest Dad” that I am. Then trade wiener, butt, and fart jokes with my boys at the dinner table much to my wife’s chagrin. And still wake up the next morning with enough energy to put in a two-hour workday and then MoonBoard. I mean, if I were single, I’d be a major catch!

9. We Always Know the Weather

No one is as obsessed with the weather as rock climbers, who schedule our lives around when it’s ideal to climb. Condies are king, and we stay up to date—via multiple apps and websites—at least a week out on the weather, including wind, humidity, chances of precipitation, etc. So, if you never want to have to check the forecast again, date a climber.

10. Lots of Us Are Secret Trust-Funders

Despite our and our apparent poverty (worn, soiled clothing; blown-out rock shoes; guerilla camping; etc.), many of us are actually secret trust-funders. I mean, how else do you think that buddy of yours who never works somehow manages to spend three months a year in Spain and three months at Rocklands while also basing out of a high-end condo in an expensive mountain town and shopping exclusively at Whole Foods? It’s because he has a secret income he might be ashamed to talk about, e.g., a trust fund. If you play your cards right, you, too, can share in that bounty, trading the stress and tedium of work for the delicious apathy of
 “not work.”

Matt Samet is a freelance writer and editor based in Boulder, Colorado. He is the author of the and the memoir Ìę

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Austrian powerhouse Barbara “Babsi” Zangerl has stunned the climbing world, becoming the first person in history to successfully flash a route on El Capitan. Zangerl blitzed the 3,300-foot granite monolith via the iconic Free RiderÌęroute over a four-day ground-up push from November 19 to 22, all without falling. Zangerl was supported by her longtime partner—on and off the wall—Jacopo Larcher, who was attempting a flash as well, but had a single fall.

Free Rider, a Huber-brothers variation to the SalathĂ© Wall, is one of the most famous routes in Yosemite Valley. It’s perhaps best known as the route Alex Honnold climbed in the film Free Solo.

For years, 36-year-old Zangerl has proven to be one of the most versatile climbers in the game. She’s bouldered V13, , and has made rare free ascents of both high altitude climbs like the Nameless Tower’s , the Eiger’s Odyssee, and iconic Yosemite lines like The Nose, El Niño, Zodiac, and . Zangerl was also the fourth person (and still only woman) to complete the “,” entailing three 5.14 multi-pitch routes in the Alps: Des Kaisers neue Kleider, Silbergeier, and End of Silence.

There are few climbers with such an appetite for long, big, bad routes, and Zangerl’s eyes aren’t bigger than her stomach. She puts it down. Now she’s become the first person to flash a route on the Big Stone.

Zangerl said for her friend Kolin Powick had spent years trying to convince her and Larcher that they should have a go at Free Rider, but she didn’t really believe a flash was possible. “I had really low expectations,” she said.

It’s worth noting that in 2014 Pete Whittaker also , but with two caveats. First, after he and partner Tom Randall’s first day on the wall, they descended to the ground to escape heavy traffic, so the ascent was not completed in a continuous, ground-up push. Second, he fell on the “Boulder Problem” and then pivoted to the alternate “Teflon Corner,” which he sent without falling. CĂ©dric Lachat “flashed” the route under similar circumstances in 2009. And Adam Ondra attempted to—but he fell above the Boulder Problem, on the Salathé’s “Headwall” pitch.

Zangerl took us through her climb. “The Freeblast was quite tricky,” she said, speaking of Free Rider’s initial 10 pitches, which go at 5.11 and are often completed as a route on their own. The climbing isn’t as physically demanding as some pitches higher on the route, but it’s techy, footwork-intensive climbing that demands full concentration. “There are a lot of pitches where you don’t have good handholds, and you’re standing on quite bad feet. It’s a lot of insecure climbing, smearing on slippery holds, there are so many chances to make a mistake and fall.”

 

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Another crux sequence, for Zangerl, was the “Monster Offwidth,” which she led first. As the name suggests, this is a sustained offwidth crack, requiring an arsenal of jams. “The Monster was a real fight for me,” she said. “I’m not really good at offwidth climbing.” She wore two shoes (one La Sportiva TC Pro inside another TC Pro) on her right foot during this pitch to lengthen her feet while heel-toe-camming.

A last-minute meeting with Alex Honnold just before they climbed may have saved the day. “Alex told me when it’s getting super exhausting on the Monster, I should lean out to the right, jamming my left leg, so I can rest,” Zangerl explained. “This was really helpful for me. There was a moment when I felt I couldn’t go any further, I was so exhausted, and then I leaned out of the crack like [Alex] told me, and it worked.”

The infamous “Boulder Problem” was the overwhelming crux, Zangerl said. Larcher took the first lead on this sequence, a tenuous, friction-based pitch that ends with a desperate “ninja kick” out to a dihedral, and this is where he took his fall, ending his flash attempt.

When Zangerl set off on lead, she quickly realized she was too short to use the same footholds as Larcher. She downclimbed to a rest and weighed her options. “When I found my own way, and got to the ninja kick, it was just completely out of control,” she explained. At the same time as Zangerl kicked her foot out, her left hand peeled off. “I thought I was falling,” she said. “But at the very last moment, I stuck the foot on the other side,” she said. “It was extremely insecure. I was really lucky.”

“The further up we got, there was more and more tension,” she explained, “as I began to think maybe it was possible.” Zangerl said that topping out with a flash left her with an incredible feeling. It was a feat she hadn’t really believed she could accomplish. But it was also tainted by the fact that her partner came up short by just a single move. “I was sad for Jacopo,” she said. “And, really, this was a team effort. We did this together. I could not have done this without Jacopo.” The duo has been climbing together for 11 years, and most of her hardest climbs, like Eternal Flame, have been completed with him on the other end of the rope. Zangerl admitted she also had an advantage over Larcher on the Boulder Problem, as he led the pitch first and provided real-time beta for her to consider.

Larcher offered some insight into his own experience . “I briefly felt relieved [after falling,] as now I could just climb the rest without pressure
 but after topping out, feelings changed. I won’t lie. This one meant a lot to me and failure is, and will be, hard to accept. We had an amazing time up there and I couldn’t be more proud of Babsi and her achievement!”

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Sasha DiGiulian is busy. When she’s not training at the gym, traveling around the world to climb, or walking her good boy, Moose, near her home in Boulder, Colorado, she’s working as the CEO of , her plant-based nutrition bar company that she co-founded in 2022.

Because of her packed schedule, DiGiulian, a three-time U.S. National champion with more than 30 first female ascents under her belt, looks for convenience in the products she uses. Think: creams that moisturize and protect her skinÌęfrom the sun at the same time or face wipes that hydrate and clean.

Even her company’s bars fall into this category. DiGiulian wanted a convenient food to grab on the go that also fulfilled her health needs.

“Send Bars are how I get my greens and fuel when I’m at the crag, biking, or hiking,” she says. “There is so much health washing on the market, and I just want clean, real food with no refined sugars, preservatives, or unnatural flavorings—that tastes really good.” It doesn’t hurt that she can throw one in a bag on the way to the airport, either.

șÚÁÏłÔčÏÍű of her tried-and-true bars, here are the products this busy climber swears by.

Ursa Major Essential Face Wipes

Ursa Major’s 4-in-1 Essential Face Tonic is made with superfood-sounding ingredients, like radish root ferment, rosemary, and willow bark extract. It also features witch hazel, green tea, and aloe vera, to name a few, for a formula meant to clean, exfoliate, soothe, and hydrate. These individually-wrapped wipes are easy to toss in a pocket or bag for a quick way to freshen up on any adventure. “I like to keep these bamboo face wipes in my pack to clean and hydrate my skin after a sweaty and dirty day out climbing,” says DiGiulian.

They’re sold in packs of 5, 20, or 40 wipes.

Sun Bum Lip Balm

DiGiulian relies on this 30 SPF lip balm to protect her lips from wind and sun when she’s getting after it outside. The product features eight percent zinc oxide for sun protection and shea butter and vitamin E, which, she says, soothe and repair her lips.

Suntegrity 5-in-1 Tinted Sunscreen Moisturizer

The climber applies this tinted sunscreen moisturizer before spending any time outdoors or even just running errands. It’s made to protect skinÌęfrom the sun with 30 SPF, as well as hydrate and add a hint of color as it goes on. With ingredients like aloe vera, cucumber extract, and sunflower seed oil, it’s also free of fragrance, cruelty-free, and vegan. “I’m big on sunscreen, and I find that this is also a nice tinted one to smooth out blemishes and bring a little color to my face,” she says.

Love from Yours Sunny Side Up SPF 30 Mist

DiGiulian uses this mist as a way to re-up her sunscreen on big outings. “Normally, my days are pretty long outside,” she says. “So I like keeping a mist like this with me to maintain the protection.”

She also loves that it doesn’t go on oily or shiny and can be applied over her makeup without feeling caked on or like it’s clogging her pores. Plus, it’s cruelty-free.

Olive and June Nail Polish

Just because she covers her hands in climbing chalk for a living doesn’t mean DiGiulian doesn’t like a good manicure. She uses Olive and June’s tab press-ons when she’s going from the crag to dinner, she says. She appreciates that the tab variety doesn’t require glue, which saves her from the strong scent—not to mention everyone elseÌęaround her when she’s applying them on a plane or in a car.

“They go on and pop off so easily that they’re perfect for post-adventure meetups where you want fun nails,” says DiGiulian.

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Outdoor adventures haven’t come easy for James Lawless, a career firefighter who discovers that being a Ford Bronco owner provides free access to the action-packed Bronco Off-Roadeo experiences located across the country. So a trip to provides a timely escape. Lawless tackles the rugged terrain outside of Las Vegas, then teams up with Bronco Ambassador , who leads him up his first rock climbing route. Watch the rest of șÚÁÏłÔčÏÍű’s three-part series with Ford, profiling unique, overworked individuals who find outdoor adventures as the antidote for their unhealthy work lives.

is a global company based in Dearborn, Michigan, committed to helping build a better world, where every person is free to move and pursue their dreams. The company’s Ford+ plan for growth and value creation combines existing strengths, new capabilities and always-on relationships with customers to enrich experiences for customers and deepen their loyalty.Ìę

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If fans were craving more heart-pounding tension after yesterday’s nail-biting , they got it this morning as the women’s of the Combined discipline funneled into the Lead climax. Slovenia’s Janja Garnbret was leading the field, but just barely
 some struggles from Garnbret on the last boulder (and, worrisomely, a potential finger injury) meant that other competitors were within striking distance on the scorecards. Team USA’s Brooke Raboutou, for example, was only trailing Garnbret by 0.4 points after the Boulder portion; the quartet of Australia’s Oceana Mackenzie, France’s Oriane Bertone, Great Britain’s Erin McNeice, and Austria’s Jessica Pilz were all hovering around 59 points apiece and still in the mix too. Such close scores set a story in motion for a that will be remembered and revered for years to come.

Here are the highlights.

Chaehyun Seo Sets an Early High Point

Someone had to set the early standard on the lead route of black boomerangs, white hexagons, and blue half-sphere volumes, and South Korea’s Chaehyun Seo did so with aplomb. In fact, even before she set the high point, she confidently cut feet several times to cheers from the crowd. She eventually cruised onto the headwall and fell with a route score of 76.1 (out of 100); it would stand as the mark to beat on the wall for several subsequent competitors’ attempts.

The Combined Scores Come into Play

Great Britain’s Erin McNeice was not able to reach Seo’s robust high point—McNeice fell significantly lower on the wall while attempting a right-hand cross-move. But McNeice’s attempt, even if inferior to Seo’s, gave everyone a reality check, of sorts; it reminded us all of the unique scoring of the Combined event, since McNeice surged to first place on the scorecards when her 68.1 Lead mark was added to her Boulder points (59.5). It’s unlikely we will see this unique Boulder and Lead Combined format ever again, but McNeice’s performance throughout the finals was a perfect example of why it’s an exhilarating way to structure a competition.

The Crowd Provided a Big Home-Court Advantage

It’s worth acknowledging how much the crowd of 6,000 spectators added to the vibe, which was also evident in the men’s final yesterday. Take, for example, the way the crowd clapped rhythmically in support of Oceana Mackenzie, or the way they chanted in unison for Oriane Bertone—“Or-i-ane! Or-i-ane! Or-i-ane!” Sure, both Mackenzie and Bertone probably would have liked to crank a little higher on the lead route (each fell below the headwall), but a highlight for each of their performances was the vociferous support from the audience. It’s not something normally heard at World Cups—at least not to such a loud and unified degree—perhaps because the Olympic crowd was comprised of just as many “casual” climbing fans as hardcore fans. Whatever the reason and impetus for such enthusiastic crowd noise, it was really cool.

Japan’s Ai Mori Proved Her Lead-Climbing Prowess

It’s hard to pick a single highlight for Japan’s Ai Mori. At a pure entertainment level, she fell while launching for the top hold—the closest that any finalist would come to sending the route. But by the numbers, such a jaw-dropping performance (a) established a new high point on the route by a significant margin and (b) gave Mori the lead on the Combined scorecards. It’s probably best to package all of that together and say that Mori’s attempt on the lead route was one of the most memorable parts of the women’s final. And it’s worth noting that if Lead was it’s own medal event—which it may well be soon—she would have taken Gold.

The Final Showdown

One could make an argument that the last 20 minutes of the final—with the successive attempts of Brooke Raboutou, Jessica Pilz, and Janja Garnbret—were among the most thrilling and intense moments in the history of the sport. That’s not a statement that should be made lightly, but consider how everything transpired:

First, Brooke Raboutou took a commanding lead on the Combined scores, her attempt on the lead route only coming to an end when she tried to stabilize and match on a hold in order to clip on the headwall.

Second, Jessica Pilz, in electrifying comparison, was able to make that tricky clip on the headwall, but was not able to overtake Raboutou in the Combined’s arithmetic of points.

Finally, Janja Garnbret came out and climbed masterfully—her finger, perhaps tweaked, seemed fine, and her nerves, perhaps rattled by some bouldering woes, seemed as calm as ever. She did not quite send the route; she fell when her fingertips sloughed off the edge of a hold a few moves shy of the top. But her Combined score resulted in a gold medal—making Garnbret the sport’s first back-to-back Olympic gold medalist. Raboutou and Pilz earned silver and bronze, respectively.

It felt like a storybook ending after a long week of toil and drama, highs and lows, happiness and heartbreak for so many competitors. And for the three women atop the podium at the end, it was a surefire passage into comp climbing’s storied history.

Women’s Combined Boulder & Lead Sport Climbing final results

1. Janja Garnbret (SLO): 168.5 (Boulder: 84.4, Lead: 84.1)
2. Brooke Raboutou (USA) 156.0 (Boulder: 84.0, Lead 72.0)
3. Jessica Pilz (AUT) 147.4 (Boulder 59.3, Lead 88.1)
4. Ai Mori (JPN) 135.1 (Boulder 39.0, Lead 96.1)
5. Erin McNeice (GBR) 127.6 (Boulder 59.5, Lead 68.1)
6. Chaehyun Seo (KOR) 105.0 (Boulder 28.9, Lead 76.1)
7. Oceana Mackenzie (AUS) 104.8 (Boulder 59.7, Lead 45.1)
8. Oriane Bertone (FRA) 104.5 (Boulder 59.5, Lead 45.0)

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Early today, accomplished California climber and guidebook author Charles Barrett was sentenced to life in prison for the rape of a woman in Yosemite National Park. The ruling, made by U.S. District Court Judge John A. Mendez, comes after a weeklong February trial in which a jury found Barrett guilty of two counts of aggravated sexual abuse and one count of abusive sexual contact. All of the case’s proceedings were held in Sacramento.

“Barrett’s long history of sexual violence supports the imposition of a life sentence,” said U.S. Attorney Phillip A. Talbert in statement released shortly after the sentencing. “He used his status as a prominent climber to assault women in the rock-climbing community, and when his victims began to tell, Barrett responded by lashing out publicly with threats and intimidation. This case is a testament to the courage of the victims who reported these crimes.”

When given the opportunity at today’s hearing, Barrett declined to make a statement to the court before his sentencing was delivered.

Barrett, 40, has been in federal custody since August 2022, when he was arrested for sexually assaulting a fellow climber identified as K.G. in court documents. K.G. testified during the trial that she initially connected with Barrett through Instagram in 2016, when he offered her advice on a weekend hiking trip she was planning in Yosemite.

After completing a solo day hike on August 13, 2016, K.G. met Barrett and his friends in Tuolumne Meadows, where he was working for a Yosemite concessionaire and living in park housing. She agreed to accompany Barrett to watch a meteor shower, but instead of rejoining the group of friends as she had expected, Barrett led K.G. into a remote forested area, where he pushed her to the ground and strangled her. According to a May 15 sentencing memorandum filed by the prosecution, Barrett “forcibly raped” K.G. that night and then again the next day in an employee-housing shower. She was 19 years old at the time.

Barrett’s February trial not only involved testimony from K.G. but also from three other female climbers who had been sexually assaulted by him. These assaults were not charged by federal authorities because they occurred on lands outside federal jurisdiction, but they were introduced at the trial to demonstrate Barrett’s pattern of predatory behavior.

An extensive investigation that I wrote for șÚÁÏłÔčÏÍű, published shortly before the trial, detailed how Barrett stalked and harassed his victims, causing them to fear for their lives. My story also chronicled how Barrett used his notoriety in the climbing community, which was bolstered by his relationships with well-known professional climbers, to prey on women and mask his criminal behavior.

Over a 14-year period, nine protection or restraining orders were filed against Barrett for incidents that involved the harassment or assault of at least six women; these included death threats, trolling on Instagram, and impersonating a police officer. Since Barrett’s conviction, two additional female victims have been named in court documents.

In K.G.’s victim-impact statement—submitted to the court before sentencing—she described in graphic detail what she experienced during the assault, when Barrett not only raped her but strangled her to the point that she had trouble breathing. “I realized he wouldn’t hesitate to choke me to death if he decided it was in his best interest,” she wrote. “I could feel it in his grip—that he would not only kill someone, but he would do it with his bare hands.”

The prosecution’s sentencing memorandum also describes how J.V., another female climber who testified at the trial, was “strangled and raped” by Barrett “on the first night she met him.”

Data on men who assault women show that strangulation is a primary indicator of intent to kill, increasing the victim’s chances of death by.

A legally mandated presentencing investigation conducted by a federal parole officer, which involved interviews with Barrett and a full tally of his criminal history, advised the court that, based on federal guidelines, Barrett should receive a sentence of 40 years. In the prosecution’s sentencing memorandum, however, attorneys petitioned for a life term, stating that Barrett was “incapable of acknowledging wrongdoing,” and that incarceration would be the only way to protect his victims’ safety.

A supplemental May 28 memorandum from the prosecution described recorded calls Barrett made from jail during the past several weeks that showed “a mentality of victimhood that cannot be rehabilitated.” In conversations with family members, Barrett said his case was the result of a “National Park Service conspiracy” and that “they have it out for me.” As a result, he said, he feared for his life. He also stated in the calls that he was writing a book about his experience, which would include claims that he’s a victim of the #MeToo movement. During a May 13 call to an uncle, Barrett described the trial’s testimony as “random girls saying whatever they wanted.”

Barrett’s two public defenders, Timothy Hennessy and David Torres, petitioned the court in a May 7 sentencing memorandum, asking that Barrett not serve more than 15 years. After today’s hearing, Torres told șÚÁÏłÔčÏÍű that they plan to pursue an appeal.

While Barrett was convicted on sexual assault charges, the primary fear expressed by his victims was that he would eventually carry out his threats to kill them.

“The trauma of being raped is extensive, as is the re-traumatization of being a victim in a rape case,” K.G. wrote in her statement. “Both are secondary to living under the threat of murder.” She added that the threat “was so alarming and foreign to those around me that I hid the central conflict of my life from almost everyone.”

In another victim statement written for the court, Stephanie FortĂ©, who was sexually assaulted by Barrett in 2010, detailed how he terrorized her for five years. Barrett’s campaign of revenge against FortĂ© began in 2017 after she privately petitioned management at her Las Vegas climbing gym to ban Barrett in order to protect the safety of women at the facility. Like K.G., FortĂ© found little support from a disbelieving climbing community or a criminal justice system that seemed to downplay the danger Barrett posed to his victims.

According to court records, Barrett told a male climber friend in 2018 that he planned to kill FortĂ©. The friend did not report this threat to police; he later told National Park Service investigators that he didn’t think Barrett was serious. But in January 2022, when Barrett announced to staff at the hospital in the nearby town of Mammoth Lakes that he wanted to kill FortĂ©, he was arrested by Mammoth Lakes police on two felony counts: stalking and making criminal threats. He was then released on bond the next day and continued to harass FortĂ©, according to court records.

In her statement, FortĂ© described the financial and health impacts caused by Barrett’s violent and ongoing threats on social media. “He crafted a narrative of being my victim,” she stated. “He told his followers I was stalking him. I wasn’t safe anywhere because the internet and Mr. Barrett were everywhere.”

Meanwhile, the Mono County deputy district attorney handling her case struck a plea deal with Barrett and reduced the two felony charges to a single misdemeanor count of threatening with intent to terrorize. The stalking charge was dismissed.

In a conversation following the February trial, FortĂ© told me that the Mono County District Attorney’s office never investigated her case by interviewing witnesses. And she was not informed of the plea deal with Barrett until nine days after it was finalized; nor did the DA’s office facilitate restitution as required by, which protects victims’ rights. Additionally, when FortĂ© was granted a protective order against Barrett following the January 2022 death threat, she said Mono County refused to include online harassment as part of the order.

Bonnie Hedlund, who was assaulted by Barrett in front of witnesses at a popular California climbing area in 2008, had a similar experience with the state’s justice system in Inyo County. In her victim-impact statement submitted to the court for the recent Yosemite case, Hedlund described how Barrett had been charged with felony domestic violence for the attack against her. But she was informed by the Inyo County victim’s advocate that the district attorney planned to reduce the charge to a misdemeanor. Hedlund quickly drove four hours from her home to the DA’s office to demand that they not reduce the charge, because doing so would threaten her safety. She was successful, but, according to her statement, she was also “unnecessarily demeaned.”

“The Inyo County DA’s staff said disturbing things to me,” Hedlund wrote. “They included: ‘Well, I heard he is a great athlete.’ ‘He is a great climber.’ And ‘If you are so afraid [of him], then why are you here?’”

No court documents had been filed by the defense at press time to reveal what the arguments for an appeal might be. However, the defense will not be able to employ the same legal strategy used by attorneys for Hollywood producer Harvey Weinstein, whose 2020 rape conviction was overturned in February by the New York Court of Appeals, on the grounds that testimony from other victims interfered with a fair trial. A foundational strategy used in prosecuting Barrett’s case was , which allows the testimony of uncharged victims in sexual assault crimes. The rule applies to all federal sexual-assault cases and is also allowed in 16 states. But it is currently not codified in New York state law.

In a statement released shortly after today’s hearing, Yosemite National Park superintendent Cicely Muldoon said Barrett’s life sentence “sends a clear message about the consequences of this criminal behavior.” She also noted that “it makes Yosemite a safer place for the climbing community, park visitors and our employees.”

As for Barrett’s victims, who testified at his trial, several told me they hoped their speaking up about what they experienced would help prevent a future serial predator from being able to embed himself in the climbing community the way Barrett did. For these women, the life sentence is a hard-won and bittersweet victory.

“The life sentence is a relief,” FortĂ© said after today’s hearing. “But it does not undo the damage Barrett caused. The life I’d built crumbled under the weight of years spent living in fear of being killed while people looked away. I hope both the local jurisdictions that failed his victims and the climbing community will see this case as an impetus for change.”

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Ahead of the 2024 season, the International Federation of Sport Climbing has released a to prevent eating disorders among competition climbers. The policy, developed by scientific experts based on the findings of an International Olympic Committee, marks the first time any international federation has taken an active step to limit the pervasiveness of Relative Energy Deficiency in Sport. Ultimately, it will require athletes to submit to several questionnaires and tests before competing.

“The new system underscores our commitment to the health of our athletes,” stated IFSC President Marco Scolaris in a press release. “The policy will not only help us determine which athletes are most at risk, it will also help raise awareness of the issue, provide help to those who need it, and ensure the rights of each athlete are protected.”

The topic of eating disorders is a long-standing issue within our community. In this very magazine, the topic was addressed by . FortĂ© was likely the first American woman climber to write about the topic. In a follow-up email conversation with her two years ago, she wrote: “If I wrote that essay today, the ending would not be tied up in a bow. The impact of an eating disorder on my life has been far-reaching and multi-layered.”

It’s been nearly 30 years since Forté’s article, and many more climbers have since raised their voices regarding the issue. While it’s hard to know the exact number of climbers impacted, it’s clear that the problem is simply not going away. Consequently, many have demanded that the IFSC institute regulations which would enforce healthier standards. Last year, demands reached a boiling point; in July, IFSC Medical Commission President Dr. Eugen Burtscher and IFSC medical committee member Dr. Volker Schoeffl , reporting frustration over the body’s prolonged inaction. Furthermore, several of the world’s top climbers, including Janja Garnbret, Alex Megos, and Alannah Yip, also critiqued the IFSC’s inaction on social media,

“We have to ask ourselves: what kind of message do we want to send to others?” Garnbret said in an interview at an IFSC Summit. “Do we want to raise the next generation of skeletons?”

RED-S occurs when an athlete is not consuming enough calories for their activity level. It is a syndrome that may occur unintentionally and go unnoticed by athletes and coaches alike.

The IOC subcommittee noted, “[RED-S] may be unintentionally exacerbated by ‘sports culture’ due to the perceived short-term performance gains from limiting calorie intake.”

Over time, a person with RED-S may have an increased risk of bone fractures or early-onset osteoporosis. They may have a slowed metabolism or exhibit a slower heart rate, both of which may lead to long-term organ damage. Sex hormone production may also decrease; men may experience lower levels of testosterone, while women may lose the ability to menstruate. Thinking can also slow. Studies show malnourished individuals lose gray matter, the brain’s outermost layer. Additionally, myriad psychological effects may occur as well, and individuals may become irritable, anxious, or depressed.

The default methodology for flagging RED-S is BMI, which is low-cost and easy to apply. However, no singular test, questionnaire, or vital sign may diagnose RED-S. “There have been calls for BMI to be used as a yardstick for RED-S, but on its own, a simple BMI test does not provide an accurate picture of a person’s health and, importantly, would also not be legally defensible,” said IFSC General Director Piero Rebaudengo. “In addition, BMI varies greatly from one country to another. Excluding athletes from competition based only on a BMI reading would, therefore be a gross violation of their rights.”

The new policy, therefore, requires various data points from each athlete to be used in initial health assessments. National Federations work in tandem with the IFSC to collect the medical information. To receive their annual international athlete license—which is a requirement for participation in any IFSC-sanctioned event—athletes must submit two questionnaires (one on low energy availability and another on eating disorders) and provide their height, weight, BMI, heart rate, and blood pressure.

Athletes who present signs of an eating disorder or RED-S, named “Athletes of Concern,” are identified by the following criteria:

• RED-S Questionnaire scores: If an athlete’s score on either or both questionnaires is equal to or higher than a specific value, it could indicate a problem.
• BMI (Body Mass Index):
  • Males 18 years and older: BMI < 18.5
  • Males 15 – 17 years old: BMI < 18
  • Females 18 years and older: BMI < 18
  • Females 15 – 17 years old: BMI < 17.5
• Heart Rate:
  • 18 years and older: Resting heart rate < 40 bpm
  • Under 18 years old: Resting heart rate < 50 bpm
• Blood Pressure:
  • Blood pressure < 90/60 mm Hg

After being identified, athletes of concern will be required to submit to further testing, including for bone mineral density, total or free testosterone for males, total or free triiodothyronine, total or LDL cholesterol, and, for those under 18, a review for abnormalities of their growth chart. Using this additional data, the athlete will be assigned a final score. Athletes classified as green (no or very low health risk) or yellow (mild health risk) will then be granted a competition license. Athletes classified as orange (moderate to high health risk) will require further evaluation and treatment by the National Federation medical personnel before IFSC events and throughout the season. Those athletes classified as red (very high health risk) will be ineligible for participation in IFSC events until they have demonstrated sufficient recovery and have been cleared to participate by National Federation medical personnel.

The IFSC will also perform random health screenings before events. These screenings may also be used to identify athletes of concern. All athletes of concern will ultimately be reviewed by an external commission composed of two medical doctors with RED-S expertise and one health professional with specific expertise in Climbing.

The full policy may be found . It will be fully implemented for the Olympic Games Paris 2024 and the Olympic Qualifier Series.

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Vivek Puri first noticed the symptoms in 2012. Instead of hanging or swinging by his side as he walked, his arm curled inward and up, his wrist hanging right around his belt buckle. It was strange, he remembers, but subtle enough that he simply adjusted his stance and moved on.

But then the 38-year-old Northern Virginia-based businessman began experiencing more symptoms. His typing suffered. His fingers would stiffen and jam. Eventually, a neurologist diagnosed Puri with neuropathy. But, after months of physical therapy with no improvement, he found himself back in the exam room.

“I remember saying, ‘By the way, I’ve noticed that when I walk, my right hamstring cramps up,’” Puri recalls. “The color just drained out of his face. I saw this visible shift in his demeanor.” The neurologist immediately arranged for Puri to see a specialist.

And so, on the morning of September 27, 2012—just 24 hours after he and his wife welcomed their third child—Puri rushed to an appointment at Georgetown University Medical Center’s Movement Disorders Clinic in Washington D.C. Less than an hour later, he was diagnosed with Parkinson’s Disease. “It was surreal,” he says.

Determined to slow the disease’s progression, Puri experimented with different therapies and exercise regimens. One day, after a prolonged struggle to find the right fit, Puri spoke with his physician. “He said, ‘I know a guy you need to talk to. He has Parkinson’s, but he’s done so many things. He rides bikes in the Rockies and goes rock climbing, all kinds of stuff.’”

The man was Jonathan Lessin, a retired physician whose efforts to mitigate his Parkinson’s symptoms catalyzed a program that would turn a climbing gym into a research facility.

***

Of the small handful of certainties and commonalities surrounding Parkinson’s treatment, perhaps the most widely understood is the critical role of exercise in slowing the disease’s progression. Not just any activity will do, however: Addressing the tremors, muscle rigidity, and neurological effects of Parkinson’s requires exercise that blends (among other things) balance, aerobics, flexibility, and strength training. This is exactly what Lessin was seeking.

A former cardiac anesthesiologist from Chevy Chase, Maryland, Lessin began experiencing symptoms at age 33, though he wouldn’t receive a diagnosis for another five years. He retired soon after, concerned about the risks his condition posed for patients.

Like Puri, Lessin struggled to find an exercise that not only worked, but that he enjoyed. The standard recommended therapy bored him to an extreme. Trapeze lessons proved too painful and risky. He enjoyed hiking and biking, but often found himself exhausted mid-journey with several miles left to go.

Lessin needed something with big movements that engaged his body and his brain. He also needed a safe, protected environment close to home. A climbing gym, it occurred to him, might offer both.

He wanted one-on-one instruction, preferably at a low-traffic time. No one, after all, enjoys an audience watching as they Elvis-leg their way up a beginner-level climbing wall. But the first gyms he called either wouldn’t work with him or wanted him to participate in group lessons. Eventually he called SportRock Climbing Centers, a chain of gyms in the Washington, D.C., metro area. Then-manager Molly Cupka answered the phone and agreed to work with him.

“My arms were very pumped,” he recalls of his first session. “I thought, ‘This is going to be great for me.’ You’re making big movements on purpose. You’re safe because you’re tied in, and you’re never far from home.”

Best of all, it appeared to work: Within a few months, Lessin began seeing and feeling a noticeable difference. Soon, he was climbing up to four times a week.

***

By the time she met Lessin, Cupka was regularly working with aspiring climbers as a private instructor. Lessin, however, was her first client who hoped climbing might mitigate the impact of disease.

The improvement in Lessin’s symptoms was remarkable enough that his physical therapist eventually joined one of his climbing sessions, eager to gauge what made it so effective and whether it might benefit other patients. Impressed by what she saw, the physical therapist published a newsletter write-up and placed it in the clinic’s waiting room. Before long, Cupka had a growing clientele of Parkinson’s patients hoping to emulate Lessin’s results.

Cupka did her research, learning about Parkinson’s and searching for any information about the benefits of climbing for patients, but there wasn’t much to find. “I just couldn’t believe no one seemed to know about it,” Cupka says. “And Jon was like, ‘We have to tell people about this.’”

At first, Cupka and Lessin recognized that his outcomes could be anomalous. But then a second client showed improvement, followed by a third, fourth, and fifth. Calling themselves the Fidgety Five, the group began climbing together, with each member experiencing marked improvement.

By 2013, the group had grown to 25 participants and adopted the name . In the years since, the group gained 501c3 status and spread to other gyms in Virginia, North Carolina, and Ohio. Its membership has also expanded to nearly 80 members, ranging in age from late 30s to mid-80s. Many of them compete in paraclimbing, including Puri.

“You would watch them, and there were just these moments that you saw each of them experiencing the same benefits as the others,” Cupka says. “And you start to realize that it’s real. It’s an actual thing, and it’s actually making a difference.”

***

Given the difficulty many Parkinson’s patients encounter just walking from one room to the next, watching them climb can, at first, be astonishing. On the mornings when Up ENDing members meet, it’s not unheard of to see someone enter the gym using a walker or a wheelchair and then begin ascending the wall with seemingly less difficulty than they experience doing comparatively less strenuous tasks, like opening a carabiner or getting from one route to the next.

“I have patients who will bring their walkers into the gym and then spend 30 minutes climbing a wall,” says Virginia-based neurologist Drew Falconer, who frequently refers patients to the program. “I mean, it’s crazy. It just defies any sort of expectation of what you think is possible.”

While the disease doesn’t always shorten life expectancy, Falconer explains, it can take a drastic toll on quality of life. The average age of diagnosis for Parkinson’s is around 60 years. Men are 1.5 times more likely to develop it.

“So, you have this group of people who’ve worked their entire lives, and now they’re retiring and going to do the things they love,” Falconer says. “Then they’re told they have Parkinson’s, and you think, ‘Damn. That sucks.’ But it’s also paired with the realization that it’s not terminal. Their life expectancy is the same. So, they fight back against it, and do everything they can to live well, because it’s not going away.”

The neurological impact of Parkinson’s, Falconer continues, limits the body’s ability to ambulate through space, turning seemingly simple tasks—like tying shoes or dialing a phone number—into much greater challenges. “Climbing, in and of itself, engages so many different aspects of how our bodies move,” he says. “You’re talking strength, coordination, core muscles and balance. It’s almost the ideal exercise for someone with Parkinson’s.”

***

As the program’s grown, so has Cupka’s desire to validate its outcomes. A long-time climber, she first began working at SportRock more than 16 years ago, eventually assuming her current role as director of the gym’s location in Alexandria, Virginia. Having studied neurobiology and neuropsychology at the University of California Irvine, she often considered a career in research, even as she ascended the ranks of leadership at the gym.

That education—combined with the efforts of several well-connected group members—allowed Cupka to venture into relatively unusual territory for someone who’s spent much of her career in the fitness industry: researcher.

Several years after meeting Lessin, Cupka worked with George Washington University to conduct a small study examining the impact of climbing on a small group of Parkinson’s patients. The results proved compelling enough to gain the interest of two other researchers: Andrew Guccione, a retired professor from George Mason University, and Julie Ries, a professor of physical therapy at Marymount University.

Together, the three launched a larger study in July 2023. By January 2024, they had enrolled 28 patients with the possibility of more. Registered with clinicaltrials.gov, the study is expected to conclude May 2024.

Cupka envisions a reality where climbing is recognized as a valid form of physical therapy for patients with Parkinson’s and other movement disorders.“I want insurance to cover this,” sheÌę says. “It’s a no-brainer.”

***

If Mark Twain was right, and there truly is no such thing as a new idea, then someone, somewhere has also connected climbing and Parkinson’s. But if they’re out there, they’re maintaining a low profile.

“I think Parkinson’s and climbing just seem like such an unlikely pairing that people just don’t put the two things together,” Falconer says. “Maybe in some cases it comes down to bias: When we think about Parkinson’s, there’s nothing about it that seems conducive to climbing a rock wall.”

Even as the benefits of climbing for Parkinson’s appear increasingly more concrete, there are limitations. The gains that appear so soon after participants begin climbing can subside just as quickly. That makes consistency crucial—something Puri learned soon after an injury forced him out of the gym for two weeks.

“Within just a few days, I found myself needing more medication,” he recalls. “I was less mobile, less everything. There were clearly benefits that I wasn’t getting because I wasn’t climbing anymore.”

While the physical impact of climbing is critical, Falconer says, so are the psychological and emotional effects for people with Parkinson’s. Because the disease affects areas of the brain that produce dopamine and other mood-regulating chemicals, patients commonly suffer from depression, making it difficult to maintain motivation and hopefulness.

“I think one of the coolest parts about climbing with Parkinson’s is that it gives an outlet for these people who are struggling every day to live with what they’ve been given,” Falconer says. “It allows them to prove to themselves that they can do it. And there’s nothing more inspirational than that.”

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At midnight Mountain Time on January 30, the public comment period closed for two proposals from the National Park Service (NPS) and U.S. Forest Service (USFS) that would ban fixed anchors (bolts, pitons, snow pickets, slings) in America’s Designated Wilderness areas.

I’ve written a lot about and around this subject; so if you want a full treatment, read But here are the three essential facts you need to know about the proposals and their implications:

1. Fixed anchors would be banned unless individually proven otherwise.Ìę

By leaning into a clever bit of legalese, the NPS and USFS are trying to re-classify all “fixed anchors” as “installations.” Since “installations” are explicitly banned from wilderness areas unless deemed otherwise on a case-by-case basis, all fixed anchors would be banned too. This essentially inverts the formula that the NPS and USFS had previously used to manage fixed climbing hardware: Previously, climbing anchors were considered legal unless there was some reason (generally archeological or environmental) to disallow them; now climbing is illegal unless the park goes out of its way to decide otherwise.

As Erik Murdock, Interim Executive Director of Access Fund, told me several months ago: “If this proposal passes, all fixed anchors will be considered illegal until they are provided an exception. The wilderness administrator can provide that exception. But they may not if they don’t want to.”

2. This is not simply a problem for sport climbers.

The term “fixed anchors,” as defined by the Forest and Park Services, does not just apply to bolts. Instead, it includes all forms of permanent or left-behind protection. In addition to bolts and rap rings, it includes slung trees, stuck nuts, snow pickets, pitons, and any safety gear a climber happens to leave behind—even in retreat. A ban on permanent gear would effectively ban getting down off of thousands of cliffs and mountains around the United States.

To look at the potential implications of this, just look at North Cascades National Park, where anchors are banned in order () to “preserve a wilderness experience that reflects a raw style of mountaineering in a range that has changed little since Fred Beckey made first ascents of now-popular peaks.” What that means, however, is that descending climbers are generally forced to avoid rappelling clean rock faces and instead descend via steep, avalanche-prone couloirs—and without the legal right to leave behind snow pickets as protection even if they deem it necessary.

3. Opposing the proposed ban does not mean supporting grid-bolting.Ìę

The vast majority of climbers have historically been great advocates for wilderness spaces; indeed, climbers and climbing organizations almost uniformly agree that the placement of anchors—especially bolts—in wilderness ought to be overseen by land managers. But climbers think that anchors are compatible with the wilderness areas we have helped to create.

Lifelong rock climber and former Colorado Senator Mark Udall, for instance, helped bring federal wilderness protections to huge swaths of Colorado, including parts of Rocky Mountain National Park, and when he did so he considered climbing a legitimate use of that wilderness. For that reason, he has outspokenly opposed the NPS and USFS’s attempt to twist the language of the Wilderness Act to ban climbing.

In an article published by this past November, Udall wrote: “As the primary sponsor of the Rocky Mountain National Park Wilderness and Indian Peaks Wilderness Expansion Act, I want to be absolutely clear: Nothing in those bills was intended to restrict sustainable and appropriate Wilderness climbing practices or prohibit the judicious and conditional placement of fixed anchors—many of which existed before the bills’ passage. I used fixed anchors to climb in these areas, and I want future climbers to safely experience profound adventures and thereby become Wilderness advocates themselves.”

And there you have it: even the people who created these wilderness areas are opposed to the USFS and NPS’s attempt to manage them.

You can read Access Fund’s guidance on these issues .

Learn more about how you can support the Protecting America’s Rock Climbing (PARC) Act

NOTE: The deadline for public comment period has now passed. But you can still support wilderness climbing by supporting the Expanding Public Lands Outdoor Recreation Experiences (EXPLORE) Act, which is currently in congress and includes language overtly protecting wilderness climbing and fixed anchor use.

—Steven Potter

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Ingmikortilaq.

Say it with me: Ing-muh-cor-tuh-lack.ÌęNo, it’s not an itchy skin disorder or the latest Industrial rock band from Germany. Spraying Ingmikortliaq on your bathtub won’t kill the mildew. What the hell is Ingmikortilaq? If you answered “a sheer 3,750-foot rock face above an icy fjord in a remote part of Greenland,” well, congratulations, you are correct.

Ingmikortilaq is the central focus of Alex Honnold’s latest adventure series, called Arctic Ascent with Alex Honnold, which airs on this coming Monday, February 5. The three-part climbing documentary chronicles Honnold’s 2022 expedition to become the first person to scale the the massive wall, which is approximately 1,000 feet taller than Yosemite’s famed El Capitan.

To reach the monolithic cliff, Honnold and his expedition teammates must first cross a section of Greenland’s ice cap, ascend a shorter but equally terrifying peak, and then boat up a fjord while dodging massive bergs. Along the way they help a glaciologist namedÌęHeidi Svestre conduct on-the-ice climate research to investigate how rising temperatures are ravaging the country’s imperiled rivers of ice.

I watched an advanced screeners for Arctic Ascent’sÌęthree 45-minute episodes over the course of several early mornings and found it to be a compelling, if occasionally sleepy, watch. Yes, there are stunning drone shots of Honnold and British climber Hazel Findley clinging to Ingmikortliaq’s massive face. In the first episode, high-definition cameras show Honnold rappelling into a blueish-green glacial moulin—a drainage hole that funnels water through the ice—to collect scientific samples for climate research. And the narration from Svestre helps explain the geologic dynamics at play in Greenland’s ice caps, and why they matter to the rest of the world.

But the actual storyline thatÌęArctic Ascent follows is well-trodden territory in today’s world of adventure filmmaking. The adventurers go from point A to point B, accomplish an impressive feat of strength, and raise awareness about an environmental issue along the way.

I found the series to be a very close cousin of the 2022 HBO miniseries Edge of Earth. Both projects check the same boxes: famous athletes taking on impossibly difficult challenges; extreme environments threatened by climate change; interpersonal tension arising from weeks-long expeditions to the far corners of the planet. Lather, rinse, repeat. It feels like these attributes have become necessary ingredients for outdoor documentariesÌęin the 2020s.

But if that model attracts a mainstream audiences to films about rock climbing or kayaking, then who am I to criticize? After all, Arctic Ascent compelled me to fixate on—albeit briefly—a hunk of rock in Greenland whose name I can barely pronounce (ahem, it’s Ing-muh-cor-tuh-lack). Convincing mainstream viewers to care about Ingmikortilaq and Greenland’s melting glaciers may be more impressive than actually scaling the cliff.

It’s a relatable challenge. While watching the series I often contemplated a singular hurdle facing journalists and filmmakers in outdoor media, myself included: trying to get casual audiences to care about a mountain or trail or place that they’ve never heard of.

Name recognition is still crucial in adventure storytelling. It’s why hundreds of climbers will flock to Mount Everest this May, and why stories of their foibles will generate far more media tonnage than that of the few world-class alpinists who ascend much tougher routes on little-known peaks like or . It’s why Swiss climbers Ueli Steck Ìęand Dani Arnold Eiger, Jungfrau, and Matterhorn. It’s why climbers now seem to be lining up by the dozen to ascend the 14 peaks that stand above 8,000 meters in the shortest amount of time. John and Jane Q. Public now recognize these mountains as worthy of our collective attention—something that is inextricably tied to past books, films, and magazine stories. Will Arctic Ascent raise Ingmikortilaq’s international profile to this level? We will have to wait and see.

During a call in January, I asked Honnold why he pursued a film project centered on an obscure hunk of rock, versus one focused on Half Dome or Cerro Torre or another mountain with a famous name. After all, the film that transformed him into an icon of outdoor media, Free Solo,is set in one of outdoor storytelling’s most famous settings: El Capitan.

Honnold told me that, in the case of Ingmikortilaq, the star-versus-setting equation is reversed.

“You’re taking something brand-name—which is me—and sending me climbing in the place that isn’t well-known,” he said. “Eastern Greenland is very remote and the climbing objective and science component of the trip is fresh and different. But you’re still using a mainstream thing, which is me, to sell the idea.”

Arctic Ascent sold me on the impossible challenge posed by Ingmikortilaq. The footage of Honnold and Findley climbing the massive cliff in the third episode is the standout scene of the series. The rock is brittle and chossy, having been ground into chalk by millions of years of glacial grinding. The route looks unclimbable. A fall in such a remote location would mean serious injury or death.

For now, anyway, I will associate Ingmikortilaq with the film, with Honnold, and with the very limits of big-wall climbing. Whether or not I remember the cliff’s name a week from now—alas, that’s something I cannot guarantee.

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