TheClimberGirl dishes on how she became a Twitter addict and how she uses it both as a tool to gather climbing beta and to meet new friends.

Like most climbers, I hold down a couple of jobs. Over the years, I started exploring various social networking tools and online “water coolers,” so to speak, so that I wouldn’t go crazy with all of the time alone. I heard about Twitter online when it was still relatively new and created an account under the nickname “theclimbergirl.” Soon I was connecting with other climbers, both by seeing who popular, pro climbers followed and were following, and by searching Twitter using http://search.twitter.com for the generally adopted “#climb” hashtag, used to identify a particular tweet as climbing-related.

So what’s so great about Twitter? Every other online social media tool I’ve used over the years has been for the purpose of staying connected with people I already know. With Twitter, I meet new people. Many of these people become something like real-life friends. We chat climbing, we trade gear advice, and we share our climbing-related blog posts, but we also tweet puppy pictures, gardening tips and give each other pep talks about life, work and relationships.

At this point, I have Twitter friends in almost every climbing destination on the globe. If I am heading out on a trip I can ask my network for local weather, logistical information (where to stay, what’s the best local gear shop) and beta on locations and routes. Earlier this year I planned two separate Red Rock trips. The first relied heavily on beta from @redheadwriting (Erika Napolitano), a fellow sassy redhead climber both in real life and online), who pointed me toward Desert Rock Sports for gear and shared warnings with me about some classic routes. The second led to a meet-up with @jennfields and @ten1seven (Jenn and Jeremy Fields) for dinner, and numerous text messages back and forth during our respective trips to swap beta and condition information.

The very first time I met a Twitter friend in the real world, it was at the Tieton River area here in Washington. My Twitter buddy @benwills (Ben Wills) drove in from the East Coast to meet me and my climbing partners at the campsite for a weekend of climbing which turned into Ben sleeping on my best friend’s sofa for a month.

Ben, Erika, Jenn, Jeremy and a long list of others are examples of the best of my Twitter friends, who have gradually transitioned to longer-than-140-character email and/or phone calls, and then in person meetings that result in brothers-and-sisters-from-another-mother kind of friendships. By the time I meet my Twitter friends in person it’s not at all like meeting a stranger—it takes about 30 seconds to fall into the same rhythm that we have online.

Yes, Twitter takes time and technology. If you’re not into it, you’re not into it. But for those of us who are and have an interest in connecting with climbers around the world, Twitter is an invaluable way to get started. •

Sara Lingafelter is a climber, writer, gear junkie, attorney and half-time dog mama. She blogs about her climbing life at RockClimberGirl.com and is the unofficial #climb community den mother on Twitter (follow her at
http://www.twitter.com/theclimbergirl). She is a reader blogger for Climbing Magazine, a gear reviewer for rockclimbing.com and guest blogs for other outdoor industry sites.

You don’t have to climb big walls to bag some of the best peaks in Colorado. Presenting the best eight unknown summit scrambles in the state.

First, a piece of advice: If you’re going to lose your keys on the top of a mountain, you had better make it one of Colorado’s wildly popular 14ers. Losing anything—keys or otherwise—on a mountain like “Peak G” or “Point 12,414” pretty much guarantees your valued possessions will end up in the paws of marmot search and rescue. Trust me on this one.

Rodent opportunists aside, there’s plenty of reasons to explore the truly wild side of Colorado. Those who complain about the throngs of red-faced, wheezing Midwesterners stumbling up Longs Peak in jeans and college-themed sweatshirts need to remember there are at least 3,000 other fine mountains you can climb, very few of which you’ll encounter someone sporting a Hello Kitty backpack. I don’t blame out-of-staters for wanting to hit up the glory peaks, but for those of us lucky enough to call Colorado home, there’s a lifetime of incredible summits waiting to be had. Sure, they might not carry the bragging rights hiking a mountain someone’s actually heard of does, but isn’t that part of the allure? If you’re like me, following well-worn trails can start to feel a bit too tame. Exploring new terrain opens up a new world of wildlife, flora and geography. Lesser-known summits (like Bison Peak) can make you feel like you are in another wilder, state—or possibly on another planet.

A word of caution, however, to those embarking on their first-ever off-the-beaten-trail adventure. If you’re looking to lighten your mental load, get in touch with nature and marvel at the splendors of the natural world, plan wisely so that you don’t end up lost in a mosquito-filled alpine swamp, or stumbling over miles of loose scree only to bumble your way to an unspectacular summit. No, if you’re going into the unknown, you want there to be at least be the prospect of adventure and excitement minus the prospect of having a helicopter search arranged in your honor.

So without further adieu, I encourage you to tap into your wild side by exploring at least one of these eight spectacular peaks. They’re well worth the walk.

1. Mount Silex (13,619 ft.) • San Juan Range

Mount Silex is just one of the amazing peaks in the seldom-visited Grenadier Range of the San Juan Mountains, but it is without doubt one of the best. The majority of the mountains in this region emerge from a high-alpine terrain that starts at about 10,000 feet. Because the area is barely developed, the Grenadiers stand as one of Colorado’s truly remote wilderness areas. You’ll need to carve out at least a few days to make the trip, good off-trail mapping and navigation skills, and plenty of pioneer spirit to reach the top of Silex. With beautiful backpacking and backcountry opportunities, set yourself up a fine base camp and get ready to play. Mount Silex requires good route-finding on very solid class-2+ and thrilling (but not overly difficult) class-3 terrain. While you’re in the area, check out Arrow Peak, Vestal Peak, Storm King Peak and The Guardian, if you’re on a peak-bagging mission.

2. Eagle Peak (13,100 ft.) • Northern Sawatch Range

As one of the more remote 13ers, Eagle Peak’s generic name belies the incredible adventure needed to reach its summit. What’s nice about Eagle Peak—and the surrounding summits in the area—is a well-maintained trail that leads into the basin and is a fine place to set up base camp. Charles Lake and Mystic Island Lake both offer great camping (when the bugs aren’t too crazy) and the start from Fulford Cave trailhead means passenger cars can make it no problem. Once in the basin, great class-3 scrambling begins where the trails end. Neighboring Fools Peak, Pika Peak, Point 12,940 and Gold Dust Peak offer mountain explorers plenty to see.

3. The Citadel (13,294 ft.) • FRONT Range

One of the great advantages of not having a formal name means people are less likely to find out about hidden treasures like The Citadel. While not officially named on maps, locals have known for years about this wonderful peak and chances are you’ve probably admired it from a distance while driving Loveland Pass in the winter (when snow-covered, it’s also affectionately known as Snoopy’s Doghouse). The Citadel is close to the metro area and easy to drive to (start at I-70 exit 218, Herman Gulch Trailhead). A well-traveled trail ends at Herman Lake, but your adventure continues up to the twin summits of the Citadel, where some easy class-3 scrambling gets you to the top. If you want more, traverse over to Hagar Mountain or Pettingell Peak, which, at 13,553 ft., is the highest point in Grand County.

4. Casco Peak (13,908 ft.) and French Mountain Traverse (13,940 ft.)  • SAWATCH Range

If you like hiking in the style of Sawatch 14ers but want to get away from the crowds, try pairing up these two peaks for a fun day in the mountains. Casco Peak and French Mountain are connected by a gorgeous class-2 ridge  and offer unique views of classic neighboring Colorado peaks such as Mount Elbert and Mount Massive. The standard start for these peaks begins a few miles down a 4×4 past Mount Elbert trailhead. Head this way for a good, long day with no technical climbing and very little scrambling plus the chance to see old mine ruins along the way.

5. Bison Peak (12,431 ft.) • TARRYALL MOUNTAINS

Unlike most of the mountains on this list, Bison Peak is an easy-going class-1 jaunt suitable for man and dog alike. The kicker to this amazing hike is the summit plateau, which is populated by enormous monoliths of rock akin to the desert landscape in Moab. This area is more like a “Garden of the Gods” than the eponymously named location in Colorado Springs. In spring, this area is even more of a treat as large fields of wildflowers bloom between the rocky outcrops. Bison Peak is one of the most unique landscapes in the entire Rocky Mountain region.

6. Red Elephant Mountain (11,552 ft.) and Big Agnes Mountain (12,059 ft.) • PARK Range

It takes a special kind of woman to get a peak as enormous as Big Agnes to serve as her namesake, but a visit to the Steamboat Springs area brings you face to face with that very peak. Both Big Agnes and Red Elephant Mountain are great destinations to hit while backpacking the pristine Mount Zirkel Wilderness. Due to their relatively low elevations and northerly latitudes, both offer a glimpse at a more fertile and lush landscape than can be encountered on most Colorado mountains. A trek over Red Dirt Pass opens up access to both of these mountains (as well as the high point in the region, Mount Zirkel). Expect mostly class-2 terrain with a little bit of scrambling on Big Agnes.

7. Mountain Adams (13,931 ft.) • SANGRE DE CRISTO RANGE

Hidden in the shadow of Crestone Peak and Crestone Needle, Mount Adams is an aesthetically stunning mountain with a knockout class-3 ridge to the summit. The entire Sangre de Cristo Range—a spine of mountains with flat, bucolic land surrounding the peaks—erupts from the land like a cartoon in a pop-up book. . A trek to Adams begins with a suggested overnight to Horn Lakes Basin, where you can rest up and get ready for the 1,000-foot “hill” that leads to the base of Adams’ impressive ridge walk. Views are stunning and the terrain is the perfect place to unleash your inner mountain goat.

8. Mount Cirrus (12,797 ft.) • NEVER SUMMER RANGE

Not far from the popular ranges of Rocky Mountain National Park (RMNP) lie the Never Summer Mountains, a rocky expanse of peaks that are lined with rivers of talus and scree (sounds fun, huh?). For those willing to endure a bit of wobbly terrain, the rewards are incredible. Spacious views extending into Wyoming’s Medicine Bow Range are complemented by the gentle giants to the east in RMNP. The class-3 ridges are exciting and airy, meaning you can expect to encounter a few real-life mountain goats on the slopes. This is a rough-and-tumble landscape that puts the rock in Rocky Mountains.

Looking for more? Here are a few more worthy hikes you can find on your own. For the best in autumn aspen views, try East Beckwith Peak (12,432 ft.) in the Elk Range just outside of Crested Butte. A rare class-3 experience can be found in Lavender Peak (13,220 ft.) in the southerly La Plata Range. And finally, see if things are all quiet on the western front to find Lone Cone (12,614 ft.) at the far reaches of the San Juan Range. •

James Dziezynski is the author of Best Summit Hikes in Colorado. You can follow his endless adventures at Mountainous Words (mountainouswords.com).

Are you ready to tackle the East Face of Longs Peak? Our rock-hound runs down all the ins and out of how to climb the most sought-after face on the Front Range whether it’s your first time or you’re a vet looking for a new challenge.

Classic Rock: Rob Van Aernum on the 3rd pitch of the Yellow Wall (5.10c). Um, Kalous, you want us to believe you’re the expert on the Diamond and you send us a photo from 1994?

The scream sounded like that of a small child. Even as it left my lips, I thought, “ah man, you sound like a tool.” Other sounds followed: the distinctive clink and rattle of a piece of pro pulling, the clatter of my rack scraping rock, and the final thud of my helmet (thankfully, not my head) hitting the wall. I had been casually reaching for the jug that would have signaled the end of a long section of scary climbing, and then I was suddenly squealing like a trapped weasel.

In a blur, I was 30-odd feet below my last piece of pro, a blown micro-cam hanging on my rope, upside down, but all other systems seemingly intact. I gasped for air and wiggled like a landed mackerel to right myself. That’s when I locked gazes with a pair of jaw-dropped lads sitting on comfy ledge nearby. The obvious newbies were making their way up the Casual Route, which paralleled our chosen line, Eroica.

“Dude, you alright?” asked one kid with a mix of awe and concern.

“Hmmm … I think so,” I managed without sounding too rattled or embarrassed. Rob, at the other end of my rope, was wondering the same thing. That’s about when the dread hit me—I have to climb up there and do it all over again.

Right up the hill from Denver in Rocky Mountain National Park, Longs Peak’s storied East Face offers some of the best alpine rock climbing in the world. While it looms within clear sight of the northern Colorado front-range sprawl, the 2,000 foot face, capped by the dead-vertical Diamond, still feels like its out there on the fringes when you’re on it. Even the easiest route on the East Face requires expert mountaineering skills, and to climb the Diamond takes serious nerve. Never a lamb, always a lion, Longs Peak can dish up daddy-sized helpings of snow, wind, rain and sphincter puckering lightning at a moment’s notice any time of the year.

Yet, if you live in Colorado and fancy yourself a rock climber, the thought of climbing the Diamond has to be rattling around in your gut somewhere. More likely, it burns like a coal that sears your insides. No? Then just jaunt up to Chasm Lake and stare at it for a few minutes. If your spine doesn’t stiffen and your cells collectively demand “climb it!” then you’d be better off swapping that rack for a bowling ball, my friend. That way you’ll still get to wear some nifty shoes.

Still with me? Good. The truth is that if you’re fit enough to solidly lead traditional 5.10, plan well, and have a little weather karma built up, then the Diamond can just be a big day out in a grand arena. … Then again it may conspire to kill you. But what fun is there in a sure thing? Besides, I’ve done it a bunch of times, and I’m nobody special. So let’s get to it.

THE IDIOT’S GUIDE TO CLIMBING THE DIAMOND
Where: Rocky Mountain National Park
When: Depending on the snowpack, June through August are the prime months. During early season, be prepared for significant snow climbing on the approach and descent.

The prevailing wisdom is to be up and off the wall before the afternoon boomers, so a bleary 3:00 am start will put most parties at the base of the East Face by dawn. A day trip, even if all goes well, can be a long and exhausting slog, so be prepared.

My preferred method for the last few years has been an overnight mission with a glorious bivy in the magnificent Chasm. Bivouac permits are available from the RMNP backcountry office (970-586-1242). Several sweet caves have been built by climbers that make a tent unnecessary. I recommend parking it in a cave on the grassy hill above Chasm Lake and below the southwest face of Mount Lady Washington. A couple extra pounds of basic overnight gear are all you need to be snug as a punch-drunk marmot.

Wall of Glory: The East Face of Longs and the Diamond in spring.

Approaches

North Chimney: This infamous gash is the fastest way up the lower East Face and to an enormous ledge called Broadway and the Diamond proper. Mostly 4th class terrain, the copious loose blocks just waiting to be tumbled down onto you or the people below you will be the main concern. On a busy weekend, it can be a frightening pinball alley. Early season through July can present a rock hard snow tongue at the base. Some pitch out the Chimney, some solo it, others simul-climb. In my opinion, a prudent party gets the rope out sooner than later and pitches out at least the last 150 feet to Broadway by exiting the Chimney to the right on 5.6 terrain and crossing back left to the D1 pillar at the top.

Chasm View Raps: This method adds a few miles to the hike but avoids the crowds in the North Chimney. Chasm view overlooks the Diamond from the base of the North Face. Three frighteningly exposed double-rope raps put you on Broadway. The Broadway traverse can be easy or death-defying depending on snowpack. A smart party at least ropes up to cross the top of the North Chimney. This approach is better with a bivy at Chasm View.

Follow ...: Van Aernum on the Yellow Wall, 2nd pitch (5.9).

Recommended Routes

The left side of the Diamond sports the most consistently clean and pleasurable free climbing on the wall. The routes average eight or so pitches, and most of these will be 40 to 50 meters long. Bernard Gillett’s Rocky Mountain National Park: Climber’s Guide—High Peaks has all the details you’ll need.

Casual Route 5.10a: The “Cazh” is by far the most climbed route on the wall because it’s the easiest. But don’t let that lull you or take away from your sense of triumph. Stacks of moderate but strenuous climbing lead to a crowning 5.10 pitch near the top and the escape off Table Ledge. At nearly 14,000 feet, that 5.10 pitch can be a bear, but it’s fairly easy to pull on gear through the crux if your guns fail you.

Pervertical Sanctuary 5.10c: Much more sustained than the Casual Route but still 5.10, this pristine line is slightly more direct to Table Ledge. The book recommends a couple big pieces for the crux, and you definitely do not want to skimp on this size to save weight.

Yellow Wall 5.11a: Layton Kor, the most prolific Colorado climber of all time, was robbed of the first ascent of the Diamond by a couple of carpetbagging Californians in 1960. His swift answer was to establish what has since become the finest free climb on the wall. Rambling up through yellow lichen on marble-like edges, sustained 5.9 and 5.10 leads to a slightly run-out 5.11a crux on small gear. Parties often call it a day at Table Ledge, but a desperate 5.10 pitch and some wet 5.9 top this joint out near the apex of the wall.

D-7 5.11d: Another dreamy line on great rock. While the crux is harder than the Yellow Wall, the copious fixed pins and straightforward climbing can make this an easier pill to swallow for some. The 5.11d crux is short (and easily aided).

The Obelisk 5.11a: This hidden gem grabs the most sun on the wall by being at the very south end of the Diamond. An impressive offwidth is its hallmark but don’t be deterred because edges inside and out make the wide bits reasonable. An old #4.5 camalot size piece protects the crux moves, and a smaller crack nearby eats up standard pro. Bonus: the best splitter handcrack on Longs is found on this route.

King of Swords 5.12a: One of two free routes on the Diamond’s steeper and soggier right side, King of Swords is long, sustained, and overhanging. This outrageous line is a graduation route for the aspiring Diamond hard-person. The King demands a deep well of endurance and masterful gear placements for a safe ascent.

Eroica 5.12b: Eroica, my arch nemesis, is perhaps the best really hard route on the Diamond. Continuous and often serious 5.11 is punctuated by two 5.12 cruxes. The Casual Route is nearby should your resolve wither. Cuidado, amigos.

... My Lead: Van Aernum on the Yellow Wall, 3rd pitch.

Descents

Back Into the Fire: From Table Ledge, six hard to find double-rope rappels head back down the face. Carefully consider the weather before putting your ass back out on the line on this descent. After hitting Broadway (no pun intended), you’ll encounter four more rappels down the lower East Face immediately after scrambling directly down from start of the Casual Route. The big advantage to this descent is that you can leave some stuff on Broadway to retrieve on the way down.

To the Top (or not): Escaping off from Table Ledge is my preferred method. Once off the face, all hell could break loose and you would probably still make it. First, take a deep breathe and give thanks that you made it this far. Then, thankfully put on your comfy approach shoes. Hug the edge of the Diamond as you make your way to the top. If you encounter difficult climbing, you are off route. Either continue to the summit for a deserved celebration with the masses or cut toward the North Face from the top of the Diamond. Make your way down to the remnants of the Cable Route and do one or two rappels from the old antique eye-bolts down to Chasm View. Now you can relax, baby, because it’s all gravy from here.
If you have all your crap with you, casually rock-hop down to the Keyhole trail, shooting far-away looks at the campers in the Boulderfield Campground. If they ask you what you have been doing, just say something like “Climbing, man” and vaguely wave toward the Diamond. Never, under any circumstances, engage these people in conversation (unless they are cute). They are beneath you now.

Good luck. Remember that if you fail, you still got to spend a great day in an amazing place. Check your ego at the trailhead, figure out what you learned, and try again next weekend. Oh, and if you see a dude flailing, cursing, or whimpering out on some run-out edgefest next to your route, just politely look away until he gets it together. •

Want health insurance to protect yourself on your next climbing expedition? Think about applying for Polish citizenship.

Jammin’: Majka Burhardt making crack climbing look easy.

Two weeks from today, I head to Namibia. In fact, by the time you read this, I will likely be in Namibia doing something for which I’m not insured. Technically, because I live in the USA.

I’m going to Namibia to climb—or at least, that’s not the whole reason. I’m also going to spend 34 nights in a tent under the African sky to travel to the northwest corner of the second least-populated country in the world, and to keep pushing my understanding of how adventure and culture might mix.

I wanted insurance to do so.

World Nomads prides itself on “helping travelers who like to get off the beaten track.” So when I started researching providers they were at the top of my list.. Three fields into their application, however, I made a crucial mistake: I selected my country of residence. It turns out that the moment you pick “USA,” your off-the-beaten-track vacation adventure gets exponentially riskier.

It’s not just that I cannot go climbing in Namibia, technically, and be covered by World Nomads, but I cannot even go Quad Biking in Namibia. I didn’t even know I wanted to go Quad Biking (or even what it was) until I realized it was one of my crossed-out options.  Other activities not covered, when you are from the USA, include: stilt walking, zorbing*, bobsleighing (not sledding), American football and, of course, climbing.

If you’re lucky enough to have been born in Romania, South Korea or Oman, however, you are covered for everything–including “fly by wire.” Abseiling is permissible regardless of nationality, as is rugby, but we Americans cannot participate in international Sleigh Rides. Canadians, however, can. Only the British have almost as tough a time as we do, though for some reason they are allowed to play American football when abroad.

No matter. I’m going to Namibia to climb granite. I also realized, after a bit of research, that I might be doing some Quad Biking (a.k.a. ATV-ing). In total, I’ll be engaging in 17 percent of World Nomads’ restricted activities. With two weeks to go until my trip departure, it is too late to change my country of residence. I tried. I tried just after I sent an email to World Nomads asking how many Omanis have purchased travel insurance this year.

It has been two days and I still have no reply. I have a follow-up email waiting.

Dear Sir, I am trying to make sense of your rules. But they make no sense at all. Is it your goal for us all to be restricted from the sports that we enjoy most? But then why do the Spanish still get to run with the bulls? Is this some sort of adventure profiling?

There is insurance out there for those of us who climb. The American Alpine Club has it as a benefit for their members, or at least evacuation insurance—a type of AAA for climbing. But I wanted additional insurance for Namibia, and I wanted to safely add in my newfound love of quad-biking, and World Nomads did say they were the insurance for the “Adventurer.”

I am not a lawyer. I am a climber, a writer—and a guide. As a guide, I deal with liability on the other side of the fence. As a guide, I have learned to read the fine print so that I understand what I am asking my clients to sign away on. The fine print for travel insurance for adventure activities, I have learned, is that the sporting activities offered up as tantalizing nuggets of quality adventure are only covered if you are (a) of the right nationality, and (b) partaking in the activity provided by a company that is regulated or licensed where required.

By the time I uncovered this second stipulation, I was far removed from any chance of getting my Namibia coverage. I have, however, as a guide, found a new market. Now I just have to get my materials printed and distributed in Azerbaijan, Uruguay and Tahiti, and I will never be out of work. I could advertise that my new clients could climb anywhere in the world with me and always be insured.

If you are a climber, insurance is not a topic you normally worry about let alone readily discuss. If you are a normal, non-climbing person, however, coverage is often one of your first questions. When I chose to pursue climbing full time at the age of 18, I decided I would be smart about something nonclimbers  perceived as dangerous: I would get insurance, and I would get a guide. I joined the American Alpine Club and took a four-week mountaineering course in the North Cascades, because I wanted to learn how to climb, the right way, fast. The combination of those two criteria was important to me back then. None of my friends seemed to either know the right way or to want to take the time to teach me the right way, and I didn’t want to spend four years looking around for a casual acquaintance who might know when I would want to use a double figure-eight. Fourteen years later and now fluent in the ways of the rock, that same 18-year-old who wanted to be safe is still in me.

I don’t pretend that what I do isn’t dangerous. As a climber and adventure writer, I try to be as safe about the risks I take as I possibly can—while still taking them. As a guide, I recognize I represent this same safety to my clients. In fact, many of my clients are climbers in their own right who want to spend their day getting more pitches, harder pitches and safer pitches than they could on their own. These are some of my favorite clients. Sometimes, if I am lucky, those with whom I work who are beginners come back, years later, in the same form.  Of course, now I should tell my American clients I do them less good, legally, than Bahraini citizenship could. I’ll work on that when I get back from Africa.

As for my adventure-traveling plans, given the current circumstances, I am thinking of applying for Polish citizenship. I’m first generation and this should help me in my application. The Poles, like many of the other lesser non-G8 country citizens, might have had a hard time with borders, war and general international exploitive experiences, but at least they can get insurance for 100% of adventure.

*Zorbing: the activity of sphering, zorbing or globe-riding is the recreational practice of humans rolling downhill in a sphere, generally made of transparent plastic….  •

Majka Burhardt is the author of Vertical Ethiopia: Climbing Toward Possibility in the Horn of Africa (Shama, 2008) and Coffee: Authentic Ethiopia, due out in 2010. You can read about her adventures in Namibia at The Liminal Line (majkaburhardt.com/liminal-line-blog).

When a climber decides to take his disabled brother up Yosemite’s big walls, he gets a first-hand look at his sibling’s grit and learns a lesson about impermanence.

Bros in Arms: The author and brother Sean showing off their guns. Climbing big walls is a matter of thousands of pull ups for Sean.

What compels a big-wall climber to leave the relative safety of the ground to live for days on the side of a rock wall enduring a regimen of cold canned food and paper-bag toilets? What makes us go where dehydration, exhaustion and the specter of serious injury and death are the norm? Many things: the exhilaration and perspective of thousands of feet of vertical exposure; the unique problem-solving skills such ascents require; the brute physical exertion; and Nietzsche’s old maxim that “What doesn’t kill you only makes you stronger.”

I embrace the irony of finding a thrill in feeling more alive when I risk my life, but risking my brother’s life is an entirely different matter. So, am I insane for bringing him up the side of this granite monolith? Will his arms carry him through this heinous vertical trial? Will his skin withstand the punishment of 30 pitches and life on the wall for six days?

Worried thoughts cycle through my mind as I watch Sean drag himself across the low-angled slab above me. We are 500 feet up on the “Free Blast,” comprised of the first 10 pitches of the Salathe Wall, one of the longest lines on El Cap and I am beginning to come apart at the seams with irrational fear for his well-being. It’s dumb—not my concern or the climb, but this incessant digging at my emotions.

Fortunately, the business at hand—namely, untangling and managing hundreds of feet of rope—brings me back to reality. The one where everything is OK: No one has fallen to their death, no rocks plummet from above, and my brother, a T-12 paraplegic, is doing just fine. “Relax,” I tell myself, “we’ve done this before, we can do it again; don’t overthink it, just be it.”

This isn’t the first time we’ve climbed El Cap. In fact, it’s become a ritual in the 18 years since Sean broke his back at the waist after jumping into the water from a height of 30 meters. He was 25 at the time and I was 21. A few years later, after hearing about Mark Wellman’s first paraplegic ascent of El Capitan, I suggested that we climb together in Yosemite National Park.  A decade passed before Sean did his first of thousands of  pull-ups on this unforgiving wall.

The first time we scaled El Capitan, all 3,000 feet of that stone juggernaut, we did a route called “Space.” Originally established in the late 70s as a 10-day rope solo, the line still retains its reputation of steep, difficult and ballsy climbing. Ammon McNeely, the self-styled “Big Wall Pirate” and our trusted-yet-slightly-intoxicated captain, suggested the route based on two criteria. First, it’s extremely overhanging, providing less drag for Sean’s several thousand pull-ups and, second, with more than 50 ascents of El Cap under his belt, Ammon needed a unique challenge.

When we told climber friends of our plan, theirs eyes went wide. “Is Space the smartest choice,” they asked with concern. Ammon’s reply, punctuated by a 16-ounce can of malt liquor, was, “Arrrg Mateys, nothing ventured, nothing gained.”

Sean’s introduction to big-wall climbing was not subtle. He silently endured days of terror, uncertain of the next move and whether or not he could withstand the physical requirements. With his wheelchair on the ground, he was reliant on us for his mobility. This was his toughest challenge.

Over the next seven days, our party of four (we’d shanghai’ed pro-climber Cedar Wright as hauling slave) labored late into every night before finally assembling our portable ledges to eat and drink to the accompaniment of Sublime or Rage Against the Machine on our little radio. I would then assist Sean in taking off his specialized Wellman harness-chaps, and help him check his skin for pressure sores—the one true problem that could prevent us from succeeding. Infection from pressure sores can kill.

On the summit, Sean and I gave each other an exhausted embrace. We were finished with our suffer-fest and satisfied with the accomplishment of a difficult personal goal. Cedar, more animated than ever, screamed with joy, “I’m done, it’s over, thank God.” Ammon, having led every pitch, finally let down his guard and collapsed. Sean quipped that El Cap had become his wheelchair and smiled big at his newfound vertical mobility. We all felt different. I felt closer to my brother and to the others who shared in the brotherhood of the rope. The climb enlightened us, and we realized the significance of introducing people with so-called disabilities to activities deemed impossible.

But happiness is fleeting. The flame of the successful ascent wanes. And so, you do it again, and again. For the last four years, along with various partners, Sean and I have continued to travel to Yosemite to climb El Capitan. Our climbs have become a reflection of the truly indomitable and irrepressible human spirit that is fostered through the exploration of wild places. They personify the paradox that life is not always what it seems. Life is not over for those who are physically challenged. On the contrary, it has just begun again, in a unique way.

The adaptive process is ongoing for Sean and, to be honest, I will be adapting to his paralysis for the remainder of my life too. The climbs we share help both of us immensely and they remind me not only of the imperfection and the impermanence of life, but of the importance of living in the moment. Sean continues to teach me that hope is what you want, fate is what you get, and try is what you do.  •

Timmy O’Neill is the co-founder of Paradox Sports (paradoxsports.org), a non profit that encourages and aids the disabled community to pursue human-powered sports.