The Climbing Zine is a creative collective fueled by passion, dirt, and rocks.
Dear Kurt, This is a letter I don’t want to write. Writing is often difficult to get started, but this one is nearly impossible because you are gone, at least in the physical. It was in the evening of my birthday when I learned that you were presumed dead on Mt. Cook in New Zealand. …
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…
I’m here writing this morning because it’s my birthday. For many years, starting in my late 20s, I used to write every morning when I wasn’t out climbing. That practice came out of the general writing advice that if you want to be a writer, you should write every day. But climbers, well, we’re different.…
I. Trapped Kaiser Santa Clara Hospital, June 2018 The haul bag sits, a stuffed pig in the trunk. Cams, nuts, and two foil-wrapped burritos vibrate with expectant energy. But the car is parked in the red haze of the emergency room parking lot sign, and it won’t be going anywhere tonight. Inside the hospital, her…
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No place soaks up sun like the Johnny Cat enclave at the Cat Wall, Indian Creek. The maroon cliffs are striped with perfect cleaved fissures, like vertical gateways into a hidden world. The desert heat can be oppressive, but in late autumn, the low golden rays cast long shadows over the walls. by Luke Mehall…
I started this painting over a year ago after seeing a beautiful sunrise over the North Six-Shooter. It was a quiet morning at camp as folks roused from tents and vehicles, sand lodged in their eyes and deep under their fingernails. I started hot water for coffee, let Izzy, my dog, out of the van,…
The black-and-white photograph is small and square, half a century old, showing my grandmother posing in front of the dark, mysterious walls of the Black Canyon. As I study the image, I quickly realize that she is witnessing a time period in 1961 when there is not a single documented rock climb of any significance…