A conversation with filmmaker, climber, and lover of slab Anna Hazelnutt. Anna bridges the old school and new school with an honest, vulnerable voice that is a breath of fresh air in the climbing world. Anna’s YouTube page Anna’s IG Anna’s Etsy page Zine links: Support our podcast on Patreon KEEP THE ZINE ALIVE +…
Over hundreds of thousands of years, water has trickled, raged, and poured down cracks and creases, winding and weaving through rock rugosities, and worn paths through weaknesses to form (what is now known as) Canyonlands. by Pete Whittaker note: this piece appears in The Climbing Zine Book 2, now available After another trip there this…
As time goes by our original issues of The Climbing Zine have become collector’s items. Since we printed so few of our first issues, by my estimates there are less than 10 complete collections out there. So when we post up back issues they are scooped up by avid readers right away. Now we’re introducing…
As I’ve said and written before, my favorite thing about publishing The Zine is the connections it helps create. I am able to connect with people that I wouldn’t otherwise be connected to if I didn’t publish this zine. Thus is the case with the legendary climber Jimmie Dunn. by Luke Mehall I met…
As I listened to my boyfriend make his tenth phone call of the hour, I absentmindedly stirred vegetables and reflected on the events of the past month. Fuck this season, I overheard from the kitchen. Together, we had been stunned by a hero’s suicide and his partner’s avalanche burial, witnessed my mentor’s paralyzing accident, and…
Well here we are, old bolt; let me just say this before I remove you. You should be proud because great care was taken when you were placed. Questions were asked, such as: Was this the best spot for you? Was there any place for passive pro? Would you be chopped? Would the coming onslaught…
open jug filled by authentic rubber and stretched leather laces of Velcro rooted in gravity toward the edge of rock then toward inverted air the body of a bat hangs weightless cemented in time where wingspan takes flight, autopilot into nocturnal sleep for seconds as blood rushes to the start of a dream and your…
The granite escarpments of Castle Crags silhouetted the western skyway, massive gargoyles hunched and staring. I thought of my mother’s words: “Don’t do that. You’ll get hurt. Be safe. You’re going to die.” Sentences that salted every conversation I had with her. I revved the engine and accelerated. I’d intended to get on the road…