The Climbing Zine creates stories for all our readers; whether you’re able to pay to read them or not. Most of our stories end up getting posted online for free. At the end of the day we’re a business, and we’re forever grateful for those that invest in our future by picking up zines, books,…
Words by: Luke Mehall Director: Greg Cairns Mehall is the author of five books, including The Desert, a dirtbag climbing book. He is also the publisher of The Climbing Zine. You can score one of his books and/or zines here: https://squareup.com/store/the-climbi… Greg Cairns of Cairns Film is a filmmaker, storyteller, and river guide. Check out…
It is like any other start to a day of climbing in the Black Canyon. Dave and I are up before the sun, throwing down coffee and a quick breakfast, and assembling all the hardware needed for the day’s climb. We gently descend down the Cruise Gully, careful not to dislodge any loose rocks, with…
The celebration tour for the 20th Volume of The Climbing Zine continues here in our hometown of Durango, Colorado. On Thursday, September 16th we will be gathering at The Secret Garden at the Rochester Hotel from 7:00 to 9:00 for an evening of friends, stories, drinks, and climbing. Banner photo of Mehall by Greg Cairns…
The uninitiated, those who don’t climb, always ask me why I do. I normally begin my response with the statement that I don’t climb enough. I’m a marginal climber at best and am thankful for many far superior climbing partners who humor me struggling up 5.7s and 5.8s on their off days from crushing double…
It was getting dark, and I was wedged hot dog–style in a two-man tent between two college boys who hadn’t seen soap and water together in six days. As the January night in Zion National Park grew colder, I thought about how we’d been beaten back by a storm earlier that day. Having climbed…
The dance of renewal, the dance that made the world, was always danced here at the edge of things… —Ursula K. Le Guin, Dancing at the Edge of The World My first sense of it is auditory. I am walking toward the rim, eyes straining to see over an edge I can’t yet…
“There were no girls when I started climbing [in England],” Alan said, in a tone more serious than joking. I’d just met Alan Carne only twenty-four hours before, on a warm September day seeking refuge in the shade of the 4×4 Wall at Indian Creek, and we instantly became friends, that kind of instant friendship…