Climbing

Becoming a Boulder Climber

Anonymous — Tue, 16 Jul 2024 06:00:00 +0000

Becoming a Boulder Climber Anonymous (not verified) Tue, 07/16/2024 - 00:00

Chris Weidner

I woke up in my VW van parked behind the Boulder Rock Club and started making coffee, map in hand, plotting the drive to Eldorado Canyon. I’d arrived a week earlier from my home in Seattle to spend the summer guiding for the Boulder Rock School. It was my first day, and I was nervous — not about the climbing (though I’d be leading clients up routes I’d never climbed before), but about the drive.

It was July 2001 (when paper maps were still a thing), and I didn’t know Broadway from Baseline. And though I’d been guiding in Washington since the mid-1990s, I feared being “found out” as an outsider in ŷ��ڱ��Ƶ. Nothing scared me more than getting lost en route to one of the country’s most famous climbing areas with a van full of clients paying good money for local knowledge.

To my immense relief, all went well that day. So well, in fact, that by the time another week had passed, I’d ditched the map and had logged dozens of routes in Eldo (mostly “onsight” guiding), Boulder Canyon, the Flatirons and on Longs Peak. I couldn’t believe the volume and variety of climbing so close to town. I would guide in the morning, climb with friends in the afternoon and repeat. I’d never climbed so much in my life.

Admittedly, I used to roll my eyes whenever I heard Boulder being called the “Center of the Universe” for American climbing. It couldn’t be that good. But by the end of that summer, my skepticism had turned to pride: I owned 14 guidebooks covering thousands of climbs, all within 90 minutes of Boulder. I felt like I was just getting started.

So I did that classic Boulder thing: I never left.

I stayed because being a climber in Boulder feels limitless; it means as many different things as there are climbers. We’re scramblers and ice hogs, first ascensionists and gym rats, alpinists and Olympians. We’re young and old, fast and slow, inexperienced and elite. We’re of every color, gender, shape and size, and yet somehow we’ve all chosen climbing as our medium to face fears, challenge our beliefs and build meaningful friendships.

Above all, being a climber in Boulder means taking part in a wild and wonderful community invigorated by our unique vertical playground. Here, there’s a synergy at work — a motivating power that strengthens relationships well beyond the “Off belay!” on top of a climb.

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Photo by Jon Glassberg, Louder Than Eleven

Local climber and writer Chris Weidner reflects on his first months participating in Boulder's incredible outdoor climbing scene.

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Climbing the Seven Summits

Anonymous — Fri, 30 Nov 2018 17:18:00 +0000

Climbing the Seven Summits Anonymous (not verified) Fri, 11/30/2018 - 10:18

Christie Sounart

Over seven years, Kimberly Hess and brother Steven climbed the tallest mountain on each of the seven continents. Next up for Kim: A trek to Earth’s poles.

At 17,000 feet, enveloped by clouds, Kimberly Hess (IntPhys’07) nursed a broken wrist in the snow. She sat on the most challenging slope of Alaska’s 20,310-foot Denali mountain, which she’d summited the day before. Her gloved left hand was facing the wrong way and she couldn’t feel her fingers.

It had happened in an instant: On the descent, the snow broke away beneath her feet and she fell. Her climbing rope pulled tight around her wrist, snapping it in three places.

As if the wrist wasn’t torment enough, Hess had been climbing on a broken foot: She’d injured it about a week earlier, dancing at a wedding in Denver. But she’d refused to cancel the July 2013 Denali climb, the fourth adventure in her quest to complete the challenge known as the Seven Summits — climbing every continent’s tallest mountain.

“I could get my foot into a boot,” said Hess, now 34. “So I went.”

“Seven summits in seven years...[seems] as likely to go to the moon.”

Hess and her climbing partner, her eldest brother, Steven, spent two days in a tent on the mountainside before rescuers arrived by helicopter. The weather was bad. All Kim had for pain was ibuprofen.

It would take six surgeries and more than two years before she’d attempt another peak. During that time, putting her hair in a ponytail or opening toothpaste often required help. But she remained fixed on the mountains.

“The Seven Summits were all I ever thought about,” said Hess, a scrappy adventurer who gave nearly a decade to the endeavor, including planning. “They were there when I woke up in the morning and when I went to bed at night.”

Five years later, on March 11, 2018, she and Steven made their way to the top of the final mountain, reaching the crest of Australia’s Mount Kosciuszko. The first known brother-sister duo to climb all seven summits, the Hesses joined a group of more than 400 individuals worldwide to have done it. In all, they’d traveled 109,600 air miles, climbed 133,480 feet and spent 180 nights in a tent.

“I’ve been lost ever since,” Hess half-joked in an interview. “You work so hard to get there, then you attain it, and when it’s done, it’s like, ‘What’s next?’”

Chasing Adventure

Hess grew up in Denver with three older brothers and a thirst for escapades that often landed her in the doctor’s office: Among others, she broke an arm racing her bike, both feet from excessive running and her thumb tagging out a softball player.

At ŷ��ڱ��Ƶ, she was in the Delta Gamma sorority, loved anatomy labs with real cadavers and enjoyed trail running. After graduation, she and a friend bought one-way tickets to Sydney, Australia.

“I thought I’d figure out my life for four months,” she said. “I stayed two-and-a-half years.”

Between bartending gigs in Australia, Hess traveled to Southeast Asia, Africa and South America.

“Everest was the hardest.”

During her first Christmas home, in 2009, Steven, who’s seven years older, proposed the Seven Summits challenge as they sat in their parents’ hot tub in Taos, N.M. Aside from hiking a few ŷ��ڱ��Ƶ 14ers, neither had done any serious climbing, but they thrived on adventure.

“My life had become one-dimensional with work,” said Steven, then in mergers and acquisitions with a health care company. “Kimberly had finished school and traveled the world. I thought we could do something in between.”

The pair began planning immediately: Hess from her new home in Steamboat Springs, Steven from his in Atlanta. They chose the 22,831-foot Mount Aconcagua on the Argentinian-Chilean border for their first climb because of its high altitude, lack of technical difficulty and relative inexpensiveness. Hess worked at a ski shop and a bar to finance the trip.

“For me, it was a wake-up call of how hard it was going to be,” Steven said of that first climb. “But we were definitely hooked.”

Kim Hess at Mount Everest’s Camp 1, located at 19,500 feet.

Everest Challenges

After Aconcagua in 2011, Hess poured herself into training and raising money for the next three mountains: Europe’s Elbrus, Africa’s Kilimanjaro and Denali. She sometimes worked three jobs at a time, a mix of tending bar, pet and house sitting, promoting ski resorts, sealing asphalt and other gigs with flexible schedules.

As she ticked off the summits, one mountain continually loomed largest in her mind — Earth’s tallest.

“I’d always been obsessed with Everest,” she said.

The Denali accident forced her to sit out a planned Everest climb in 2014. She tried again in 2015 and went to Nepal without Steven, who was traveling elsewhere with his then-fiance.

Once there, she and her group made it to Camp 2 at 21,000 feet before a 7.8 earthquake struck the country on April 25. Nearly 9,000 people died, including about 20 at Everest’s basecamp, just 3,000 feet below Hess’ location. Helicopters evacuated her group from the mountain.

“That was the closest thing to a war zone I hope I ever see,” she said of the devastation. “I don’t know how we survived, but I came home with the sense that I had a second chance at life.”

Steven sent his shaken sister an email from Peru, ending with a promise: “Rest assured, you can go back and I’ll go with you.”

Over the next year, Hess grappled with intense emotions related to the earthquake.

“I wanted to finish what I’d started,” she said.

She was back on the mountain in March 2016, this time with Steven. After 7.5 weeks of acclimating and climbing and a 10-day wait for good weather to attempt the summit, they reached the top of the world on May 21.

Elated, Hess returned to Steamboat to work toward a trip to the 16,050-foot Vinson Massif in Antarctica. She and Steve summited in December 2017, dragging sleds of gear.

The siblings finished the Seven Summits challenge three months later at 7,310 feet on Mount Kosciuszko — an “easy” climb, Hess said. Steven’s wife and the siblings’ parents flew to Australia to celebrate with them.

“Seven summits in seven years — [seems] as likely to go to the moon,” said Caryn Hess, their mother. “I have earned every face wrinkle and gray hair.”

In all, the challenge cost Hess $338,000, not including medical bills. She’s still paying it off.

To combat feelings of loss following her triumph, and encouraged by a friend she met in Steamboat, Hess has begun planning a new adventure — this time with a cause beyond the adventure itself.

The friend, Eirliani Abdul Rahman, a Singaporean woman who works and advocates for adult and children survivors of child sexual abuse, suggested the pair ski to Earth’s poles as a way to raise awareness about the abuse. Starting in April 2019, Hess will attempt the Explorer’s Grand Slam, which involves treks to the North and South Poles in addition to her already completed Seven Summits. Less than 15 women in the world have completed it. Hess would be the youngest American female.

For most of Hess’ life, adventure has been its own reward. Adventure with a social purpose is new terrain, and she likes it.

“I’m willing to suffer day after day in the harshest and coldest environments on the planet if it means someone else doesn’t have to,” Hess said.

Contact Christie at sounart@colorado.edu.

Photos courtesy Kimberly Hess, Illustration by Anurag Paul
Source for Elevations: Encyclopedia Britannica

Kimberly Hess and brother Steven climbed the tallest mountain on each of the seven continents. Next up for Kim: A trek to Earth’s poles.

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NOW: Jan. 28, 2018

Anonymous — Fri, 01 Jun 2018 19:00:00 +0000

NOW: Jan. 28, 2018 Anonymous (not verified) Fri, 06/01/2018 - 13:00

Boulder’s Third Flatiron is notorious for drawing climbers with wild ambitions. Since the 1950s people have summited in all kinds of gear, including roller skates. At least one man climbed naked.

In January, ŷ��ڱ��Ƶ Boulder senior Rilyn VandeMerwe (EnvDes’18) put his own stamp on the tradition: He made the climb in a wet suit, snorkel, goggles, prop oxygen tank and flippers. He and two friends reached the summit in less than two hours.

“I am constantly trying to find new ways to explore and have fun in Chautauqua,” he said.

In addition to the scuba ascent, VandeMerwe established what he calls the “Flatiron Triple Crown” — climbing the first, second and third Flatirons while carrying along a hobby horse.

His next goal? Climbing all 54 ŷ��ڱ��Ƶ fourteeners by the time he graduates in the fall. He’s got 14 to go.

Photo courtesy Luke Brigham

Boulder’s Third Flatiron is notorious for drawing climbers with wild ambitions. In January, ŷ��ڱ��Ƶ Boulder senior Rilyn VandeMerwe put his own stamp on the tradition.

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Rarefied Air

Anonymous — Sun, 01 Dec 2013 07:00:00 +0000

Rarefied Air Anonymous (not verified) Sun, 12/01/2013 - 00:00

Emery Cowan

Fifty years ago, Tom Hornbein made history by being part of the team that put the first American on top of Everest.

Fifty years ago at the age of 32, Tom Hornbein (A&S’52), along with climbing partner Willi Unsoeld, became the first people to summit Everest by the dangerous and still rarely successfully summited West Ridge route. The two were among the team that put the first American on Everest on May 1, 1963.

“Once you’ve climbed Everest it’s like an albatross hanging around your neck,” Hornbein says, quoting words originally spoken by Unsoeld. “You’re never getting away from it, but it’s a good albatross.”

Hornbein grew up in St. Louis and first experienced the mountains when his parents sent him to summer camp near Estes Park, Colo. He was hooked and returned summer after summer. The Rockies drew him back again for college, and he entered the University of ŷ��ڱ��Ƶ with his sights set on becoming a geologist. By the time he graduated, his passion had turned to medicine. He was accepted at Washington University and studied anesthesia with a focus on the effects of altitude on body function — a clear outgrowth of his passion for climbing.

His medical résumé is impressive in its own right. He became an anesthesiology professor at University of Washington in Seattle and one of the foremost leaders in high altitude medicine, even inventing a new type of oxygen mask that was used on his Everest expedition.

“He’s very tenacious,” says Bill Sumner, a longtime friend and climbing partner who was a graduate student at Washington University when Hornbein taught there. “I wouldn’t call him a bulldog, but to carry so many of those things to completion requires some real push and strong character.”

And yet the climber’s relationship with the world’s tallest peak hasn’t been simple. Hornbein says he appreciates the people and opportunities that have come into his life because of his accomplishment. But he has never returned to Everest, and the book he wrote about the expedition, Everest: The West Ridge, aims to strip out the heroic undertones included in other accounts.

Skipping over Everest, he says he’s most proud of the accomplishments of his six children and others close to him, and Longs Peak is the mountain that holds a special place in his heart. His most intimidating climb was on the peak’s east face, which he can see from his home in Estes Park, Colo.

Still, Everest has been an important piece in his life puzzle, Hornbein says.

“It has created a magic I’ve been able to share with a lot of other people,” he says.

Photos by Claudia Lopez (top) and Jim Herrington

Fifty years ago, Tom Hornbein made history by being part of the team that put the first American on top of Everest.

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Zen and Mountaineering Madness

Anonymous — Tue, 01 Sep 2009 06:00:00 +0000

Zen and Mountaineering Madness Anonymous (not verified) Tue, 09/01/2009 - 00:00

Emery Cowan

Tonya George Riggs (Bus’86) describes Annapurna IV as “the most beautiful place in the world. It was just us and it was gorgeous.”

Trudging through waist-deep snow on the 24,688-foot Annapurna IV mountain, Tonya George Riggs (Bus’86) couldn’t get one thought out of her mind: they were alone. It was just her and husband Brad Clement, two little specks climbing up the enormous peak in Nepal with the thundering sound of avalanches crashing down the slopes around them. Fear and exhaustion overwhelmed her.

“One day we went 800 steps — I counted,” she says. “It was Outward Bound on steroids.”

Riggs’ story about her summit attempt of one of the world’s highest peaks last year is just one of many in the life of the corporate-executive-turned-climber. Whipping through stories about treks up Mount Rainier, Mount Kenya, Everest and Annapurna IV, it’s hard to guess Riggs, 45, first climbed a mountain at age 35. Before that she had never hiked, much less slept in a tent. As she describes her stories over coffee in Boulder, she exudes an unwavering confidence and energy that come from the perfect alignment of her skills, passion and life path.

A love affair with climbing

These elements haven’t always fit together so well for her. During her thirties, Riggs worked in sales for Quaker Oats and Pillsbury on the fast track to corporate success. But with each promotion, Riggs found herself moving farther away from Boulder. A turning point came unexpectedly 13 years ago when she decided to climb Longs Peak and suffered fear, frustration and tears during the entire 13-hour hike.

Waking up the next morning, though, Riggs found herself in a state of blissful, proud exhaustion.

Photos by Brad Clement/Spindrift Films

“I lit up like a light bulb on the rock. I thought, ‘This is awesome’ and it’s been uphill ever since,” she says.

After that, she immediately started rock climbing classes.

By 2000 her passion had turned into addiction. She switched jobs to move to Denver and adopted an early bird schedule, waking before the sun to be climbing in Eldorado Canyon by 5 a.m. and to work by 9 a.m. She checked off climbing staples like Mount Rainier and Mount Kenya but still felt something was lacking in life.

“I felt like life was passing by pretty quickly,” Riggs says. “There was an advertisement I saw that read, ‘There is a difference between being alive and living’ and I felt like I was just going through the motions.”

Soon after, she quit her job and plunged head-on into her passion for climbing.

Fortunately, her active lifestyle also spilled over into a new career working for climbing gear manufacturer Trango as director of business development. Not only is the company in her area of interest, but its owner, Malcolm Daly, has a philosophy that lines up perfectly with Riggs’ lifestyle: “When in doubt, always take the vacation.”

Into thin air

Following this advice, Riggs jetted overseas, climbing in Italy, France and the Himalayas. After catching a glimpse of Everest while climbing 22,494-foot Ama Dablam in Nepal, she set her sights on the iconic peak.

Her opportunity came sooner than expected in January 2006 when Everest Peace Project founder Lance Trumball asked Riggs to be the group’s sole female climber. After two sleepless nights, Riggs accepted. Two months later she was en route to the Everest base camp.

In addition to summiting the world’s tallest peak, Riggs recalls the Everest trip as special because it was in a cramped orange tent on the side of the mountain that she started falling for Brad Clement, the group’s videographer. In a quirkily romantic story, Clement offered to empty Riggs’ full pee bottle so that she wouldn’t have to venture out into the blowing snow.

World-class mountaineer Tonya George Riggs (Bus’86) traded her corporate life for climbing, calling it “the greatest experience ever, to a level of magnitude I can’t even explain.” At top right, the summit of Annapurna I, 26,545 feet, peeks out of a blanket of clouds in Nepal.

“He was so sensitive and I could tell he was paying attention to me,” she says of the encounter.

The rest is history, as the couple married in June 2008.

While Everest may be the final goal for many, nearby Annapurna I at 26,545 feet represented an even higher culmination of meaning and challenge for Riggs and Clement. Only 153 people had reached the summit, compared to around 4,000 on Everest. The death rate was an estimated 40 percent, making it one of the world’s most dangerous climbs. For Riggs, Annapurna I also represented a rite of passage into mountaineering because, in the absence of a clearly defined path, the couple would be breaking trail the whole way to the summit.

And there was something else.

“Annapurna I represented a special mountain,” Riggs says. “In 1978 American Arlene Blum took an all-woman expedition up the mountain and put two women on top when women weren’t encouraged to climb mountains.”

One of the women, Irene Miller, became the first American — female or male — to ascend and summit the peak. Two other team members died attempting it. Riggs and her husband planned to summit on the 30th anniversary of Blum’s expedition.

They also tied the climb to the cause of ovarian cancer awareness in recognition of Sean Patrick, a friend who was living with the disease at the time and died two months after the expedition. Before they left for Annapurna, the couple partnered with the HERA Women’s Cancer Foundation, highlighting the disease during interviews, speeches, articles and presentations they gave about previous expeditions.

“Mountaineering is a fairly selfish activity, yet it tends to attract a lot of interest and media, especially expeditions to the bigger, riskier peaks of the world,” Clement explains. “So, our goal with Annapurna was to make it about more than ourselves.”

The journey, not the destination

To acclimate for the world’s 10th highest peak, the couple decided to climb sister peak Annapurna IV.

And that’s when they ran into trouble.

Two thousand feet below the summit, the couple huddled in their tent as avalanches swept past them, making conditions too dangerous to continue.

Spending 13 days climbing the peak was the hardest thing Riggs had ever done, but she and her husband got down safely and headed to Annapurna I on foot. They spent 10 days trekking up to base camp, spending much of their time bushwhacking through 60-foot-tall bamboo forests.

But at camp they were met with some disheartening news: a landslide had occurred and huge boulders now blocked their route to the peak.

After spending 15 days at base camp trying to find a way through, Clement and Riggs accepted that after two years of hard work and planning they would return home without summiting any of the Annapurna peaks.

“Not to even get out of base camp on Annapurna I . . . it was heart wrenching,” Riggs says.

But the experience of not reaching the top also taught her some valuable lessons.

“It causes you to reflect,” she says. “They always say it’s the journey, not the destination, and there’s truth in that. I think in not summiting you linger more in the here and now and you stop and smell the roses a little more.”

That’s not to say Riggs doesn’t have any more peak aspirations. Her next adventure? The technical mixed rock-ice Diamond Couloir route on Mount Kenya in October.

See a three-minute video of the Annapurna IV climb at www.youtube.com and search under “Tonya Riggs.” To follow the couple’s climb up Mount Kenya, go to their website at www.beyondeverest.com.

Emery Cowan is a Coloradan student staffer majoring in journalism.

Trudging through waist-deep snow on the 24,688-foot Annapurna IV mountain, Tonya George Riggs couldn’t get one thought out of her mind: they were alone.

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