The Climbing Zine is a creative collective fueled by passion, dirt, and rocks.
You, outdoor recreator, are probably quite educated: bachelor’s degree, possibly a master’s degree or PhD. You wore a cap and gown and were handed a number of certificates decorated with fancy letters saying you went to college and finished—maybe even college for adults, which is called graduate school. But you climb rocks or ski or…
Although the issue was delayed by COVID, we’re proud to announce that Volume 19 is now off the press. Banner photo: Teresa Nguyen climbing Trench Warfare, during “Trench Day” in Little Cottonwood Canyon, Utah. Photo: Irene Yee Here’s a look at the lineup of essays and poetry. XIX can be ordered. Overly dedicated readers can…
I promised my father I’d never free solo. I remember, as a young kid, how his voice rocked back and forth, not to scold, but to imprint the eternal warning to never climb without a rope. If it were ever my responsibility to teach others to climb, I would lead by example, since free soloing…
As The Zine grows in popularity we have seen more and more interest from our European readers. We are psyched to announce that you can now purchase The Zine, as well as The Zine Book through Vertebrate Publishing, based in the United Kingdom. This should be a more affordable option for our European readers, as…
Our final episode for Season 1. Shout outs for the climbing podcasts that inspired us, plus Mehall reads his poem Grateful Hussle. We will be back with Season 2 in late March, 2021. This link will get you 25% off anything in our online store: https://shop.climbingzine.com/discount/DIRTBAG%2520PODCAST Read more stories/watch videos/explore: https://climbingzine.com Photo: John Kurtz
An Open Letter to the Buttermilks by Georgie Abel Photos by Tristan Greszko Dear person who climbed the Peabody boulders at dawn on November 21, 2015, I don’t know you who you are. Or maybe I do know you. That would be hilarious. It’s possible—the climbing world is so small. But my point is that I…
A remembrance of our fallen comrades, as well as the long gone friendships. Originally published in The Climbing Zine Book. Pick up a copy at our online store: https://shop.climbingzine.com/ Read more stories/watch videos/explore: https://climbingzine.com
My left hand cups a full undercling while my right shades the sun from my eyes. Above me, the short arete curves out of sight, my insecurity about balancing on sloping sandstone in the full sun causes me to hesitate. Climbing to the right is objectively more dangerous. I’d be farther from my last protection.…