It’s a dingy bar. Dark and musty. Where, I’m not exactly sure, but there is a feeling of sadness that radiates on every level. The light trickling through dusty, half-drawn shades is not telling of any particular time of day, perhaps evening. Weak rays of sunlight barely cut through the haze that lingers at the…
Luke Mehall reads “The Dirtbags Aren’t Dead, They’re Just In Mexico” published in the new issue of The Climbing Zine, Volume 25, now available. Photo by Ivan Ioza https://shop.climbingzine.com/ Our sponsors for Season 6: Kilter: http://settercloset.com (email holds@kiltergrips.com for more information) Scarpa: www.scarpa.com Mountain Project / OnX: https://www.mountainproject.com/ Osprey: https://www.osprey.com/ Black Diamond: https://www.blackdiamondequipment.com/
I guess you could call it a town. It’s open three or four months per year. Driving east, hues of dark green, azure, and gold flicker along the extended cracks on the windshield. A serpentine road curves through pine forests and atop steep inclines, tracing edges of valleys, the rim of the lake. by Alexa…
“If this climb doesn’t blow you away, nothing will,” James ventured as he hit the brakes. “I still can’t believe that Earl and I did it.” We hopped out of the Youth Challenge Bus and ambled over to the abrupt rim of a dark abyss at the Black Canyon of the Gunnison River. Never in…
A black fin of sandstone protrudes from the right side of the crack. I pinch it like a tufa and look up at the iron ring. Next stop, ring, I tell myself. Feet up, then hands. I layback the crack for a few moves and then pull in to stand atop the fin. It wiggles…
I know he knows. Adam Lawton is proud. In every group of adventurers, there is a leader, and every great leader must be a visionary. Adam dreamed the dreams for the entire crew. He found excitement in little breakthroughs, like the time I got a job dishwashing at Crossroads Cafe in Joshua Tree—he couldn’t have…
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Yeah, we are star matter from the big bang And that love ain’t far behind you Love ain’t far behind —Ani DiFranco, “Star Matter” We looked for god in the wet heather, the crumbling talus, the heinous gully, and the father-son fishing trip. How can the same god that crafts this…