It’s the same story the crow told me It’s the only one he knows Like the morning sun you’ll come And like the wind you’ll go —Grateful Dead, “Uncle John’s Band” Hunched over, I begin to carve the plaque for the climb I’ve been obsessing over for the last five years. In that…
“There’s someone on that off-width you wanted to do.” I pause—midstride—and look up to see someone hanging out halfway up the climb I was hoping to get on. I push my scratched Dollar Store sunglasses up over my head and use my hand to shield my eyes instead. The day is already hot, and…
*Trigger Warning* This article discusses self-harm. “Look at my hands!” I hold my blistered and scabbed knuckles out to my friend Alison. She isn’t as impressed as I hoped she’d be. It is 2017, and it’s my first week of trad climbing. I’m in Yosemite Valley, and until recently, I’ve always had the…
I clipped her to the anchor, untied her knot, and pulled the rope through the gear. “I need more time.” Jessica whispered so weakly that I had to lean close to hear her. “We don’t have more time. We have to get help,” I replied. “What happened?” “You fell. You broke your arm and leg.”…
I hold and turn my helmet like a classroom globe, dragging my fingers over each mark, each sign of wear. Every indent, every groove represents a route, a pitch, a move, a memory. Note: this piece is published in the new Zine, Volume 17, now available to order. In my hands is my beaten-up shield.…
And so castles made of sand Fall into the sea eventually —Jimi Hendrix, “Castles Made of Sand” “Did you hear the Crooked Arrow Spire fell down?” my buddy, Ben Kiessel, asked me. Another one bites the dust, I thought. I used to be surprised when I heard a climb or a major section of a…
There’s a lot of information out there about how to belay, and sure, the mechanics of holding a rope are important. Project belaying is another cup of tea entirely, an art that walks the line between self-sacrifice and domination over your climber partner. A good project belayer will say only, “Excuse me—can you hold on…
And then there’s Lizard Head. I have never climbed such rotten volcanic rock in my life. I didn’t know volcanic rock could be so chossy. The real kicker, which I mulled over as I struggled to not fall off the decomposing top pitch, was that this was first climbed in 1921—a century ago!—one of the…