Vertical Life #40

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AUSTRALIA & NEW ZEALAND’S CLIMBING MAGAZINE

SPRING 2022 • ED40 • AU/NZ

FIRST ASCENTS: MOTHER EARTH INSIDE THE VERTICAL LIFE FILM TOUR

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ISSUE 40 | VERTICALLIFEMAG.COM

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SPRING 2022 VERTICAL LIFE IS PUBLISHED QUARTERLY

WINTER/SPRING/SUMMER/AUTUMN AUSTRALIAN MADE. AUSTRALIAN PRINTED. AUSTRALIAN OWNED. EDITORS

Coz Fleming Joanne Lee Sule McCraies team@verticallifemag.com

DESIGN

Marine Raynard KaleaMarineDesigns.com.au

ADVERTISING

Toby Ryston-Pratt toby@adventureentertainment.com +61 413 183 804

SENIOR CONTRIBUTORS Dave Barnes, Max Gordon, Araminta McLennan & Mitchell Scanlan-Bloor

CONTRIBUTING WRITERS

Ben Abel, Dave Barnes, Charlie Creese, Coz Fleming, Campbell Harrison, Max Gordon, Nell Gow, Angie Scarth-Johnson, Benji Joseph, Angi Kim, Sarah Larcombe, Aaron Lowndes, Sule McCraies, Araminta McLennan, Deryl Ng, Tom Randall, Mitchell Scanlan-Bloor, Kamil Sustaik, Pete Whittaker & Swena Zheng

PHOTOGRAPHY

Jared Anderson, Simon Bischoff, Michael Blowers, Simon Carter, Mitchell Scanlan-Bloor, Max Gordon, Benji Joseph, Angi Kim, Phillip Le, Andrew Lindblade, Andrew Ng, Julian Reinhold, Will Vidler & Jan Virt

PUBLISHER

Toby Ryston-Pratt Founder & CEO Adventure Entertainment. ABN: 79 612 294 569

SUBSCRIPTIONS

subscribe.verticallifemag.com E magazines@adventureentertainment.com P: 02 8227 6486 PO Box 161, Hornsby, NSW, 1630

ACKNOWLEDGEMENT OF COUNTRY

ON THE COVER “Dildo direct has all the hallmarks of a one star killiecrankie test-piece. The bouldery and poorly protected start is greasier than the roof of a Tullamarine chip shop on new years day. It doesn’t get any better as you enter ‘the butter factory’, a short section of stacked jams and knee wizardry that takes you to the jug of disappointment. This is where you pull the last couple of aces out of your sleeve, throw a knee bar above your head, wriggle your way to glory, clip the sun-bleached tat (don’t look at it) and get your belayer to lower you to the ground as fast as possible”. Climber: Hannah Vasiliades @hannah.anura Photgrapher: Simon Bischoff @_simonbischoff_

Vertical Life acknowledges the Traditional Custodians of Australia and Aotearoa and recognises the continuing connection all First Nations peoples have to Country and Culture across all lands and waterways since time immemorial - sovereignty was never ceded. We pay our respects to Elders, past, present and emerging - and reaffirm our commitment to solidarity and reconciliation. Always was, always will be.

CONTRIBUTORS IMAGE

Ryan Sklenica (@rsklenica) looking pensive on White Ladder / Extension Ladder (34) at Nowra’s P.C. Captured by Michael Blowers (@blowersm)

COPYRIGHT

The content in this magazine is the intellectual property of Adventure Entertainment Pty Ltd. It must not be copied or reproduced without the permission of the publisher.

DISCLAIMER

Rock climbing and other activities described in this magazine can carry significant risk of injury or death. Undertake outdoor activity only with proper instruction, supervision, equipment and training. The publisher and its servants and agents have taken all reasonable care to ensure the accuracy of the information contained in this publication and the expertise of its writers. Any reader attempting any of the activities described in this publication does so at their own risk. The publisher nor its servants or agents will be held liable for any loss, injury or damage resulting from any attempt to perform any of the activities described in this publication. All descriptive and visual directions are a general guide only and not to be used as a sole source of information. Climb safe

Verticallifemag.com

VerticalLifeMag

VerticalLifeMag SPRING 2022

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CONTENTS SPRING 2022 . ED40. AU/NZ

12. EDITOR’S NOTE COZ

14. READ WATCH LISTEN JANELLE GOW

16. MOTHER EARTH DAVE BARNS

20. LOCAL LORE THE NOWRA APPRENTICESHIP

MITCHELL SCANLAN-BLOOR & MAX GORDON

28. INSIDE: VERTICAL LIFE FILM TOUR 3 34. HOW I GOT THE SHOT BENJI JOSEPH

38. GETTING TO KNOW: SWENA ZHENG 42. TAKE NOTHING FOR YOUR JOURNEY CHARLIE CREESE

52. WHAT MAKES A CLIMBER: GLOBAL CLIMBING DAY COZ

57. TALE OF WOAH TUMBLING OUT OF CONTROL AARON

62. BUILDING GRIT DERYL NG

67. SPOTLIGHT: 2022 IFSC PARACLIMBING WORLD CUP

SARAH LARCOMBE & ARAMINTA MCLENNAN

72. GALLERY 76. ASK THE PROS: CRAG BAG EDITION 78. NEW GEAR 80. BETA & BREW SPRING 2022

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14 HOURS COLD


EDITOR’S NOTE

A Million

EXCUSES AND A TANKARD OF RUM. Reflections on my first year at the helm.

I often find myself internally debating which would be an easier task; putting an unruly octopus back into a bottle, or pulling together VL. On the one hand, the octopus scenario would come out on top for ease, but on the other; the constant hilarity and oftentimes chaos, that comes with coordinating the stories and photos of some of the coolest (yet most unreachable) humans in climbing, makes editing Vertical Life vastly more entertaining. Plus, VL involves way fewer suckers. It’s been a full 12 months since Jo, Sule and I stepped up to the helm of Vertical Life, and our year has looked a little like this; 0 octopodes | 3 editors | 4 issues of VL | 80 articles | 150 contributors | 1 million excuses “Sorry this one’s late guys, I’ve been out of reception climbing for the last week” “Can I edit my article tonight instead? Conditions are on for today!” “Got any beta on voice-to-text software to write this article? I’m 6 days on and my tips are KILLING me!” “If you can figure out how to zoom call me while I’m in Antarctica, I’d love to help!” (FYI turns out it can’t be done, but props to Conrad Anker for trying.)

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“Is it possible to mail a copy to my van?” (We asked Aus Post…It is not) At one point, I was seriously considering circumnavigating Flinders Island in a sea kayak just to get issue #39 colour proofs to Simon Bischoff for approval before we hit print. Luckily for Simon, I don’t own a sea kayak… yet. As the Managing Editor, it’s tempting to get flustered when something doesn’t go to plan, but to me, the long list of hilarious excuses I’m proud to be the curator of serves as a reminder that VL is home to an authentic community. It means that we’re busy living the shit we’re writing about. Our community is unashamedly out climbing; living in vans, tents and long car trips on the way to far-flung crags. We’re having beers with mates after an evening at the gym, and we’ve got each other’s backs on belay. Digging deeper, the truth behind the million extraordinary excuses is a simple one; every story we’ve published is an excerpt from someone’s real life. Our contributors create stories by being out there living them, and for us sharing their tall tales is one hell of a bonus - provided it doesn’t get in the way of climbing of course. To my amusement, in the process of chronicling every story and excuse this past year, I’ve heard people refer to me in jest as ‘the captain of the ship’. “Whatever vessel I’m the captain of, it’s definitely covered in barnacles”, I’d chuckle in response. To clear up how things work around here - VL isn’t a P&O cruise liner; nor is it one of those bougie speed boats a certain 3 star route at Nowra’s Thompson’s Point was named after. Similarly to the octopus vs VL debate, if I had to decide on a vessel best fitting VL, I’d be more inclined to categorise it as a pirate ship. It’s a brilliant mental image - a leaky galleon full of rowdy rum-loving scallywags


covered in dirt and chalk; mutiny chatter at port; Ammon McNeely’s famous skull & crossbones flag waving in the wind; navigated by Jack Sparrow’s stolen compass and three editors along for the ride. “True enough, this compass does not point north.” “...Where does it point?” “It points to the thing you want most in this world.” - Jack Sparrow and Elizabeth Swann See, if we did actually use Jack Sparrow’s compass, I’m afraid the VL ship would be out to sea doing doughnuts maybe we are more similar to the infamous ‘Speed Boat Wankers’ than I’d originally thought. Why? I’ve come to realise that as editors, what we want most is already right here. The truth is, we never set out to captain this ship by ourselves, in the same way that we never set out to wrestle an octopus into a bottle. Our goal was to build a crew of chalk-lovin’ misfits who wanted to navigate this journey with us; to co-create a magazine that reflects the experiences of an ever-growing community, with a focus on real (and often ridiculous) stories written by climbers passionate about telling them. At first, we thought we’d be navigating the seas alone for a while, but as it turned out, there were 150 of you waiting on deck for us to chart the course.

MATS

This issue of VL is no different, with contributions from 43 of our favourite climbing pirates. The brilliant Charlie Creese remembers Athol Whimp; we take a look below deck on the Vertical Life Film Tour 3; re-imagine what it means to be a climber; learn about grit from Deryl Ng and get the scoop on Mother Earth from our senior contributor Dave Barnes. Our senior contributor Minty McLennan, along with athlete Sarah Larcombe, spotlight their experiences at the 2022 IFSC world cup; and we get some Nowra Local Lore from senior contributors Max Gordon and Mitchell Scanlan-Bloor. We’re kicking this issue off with an epic cover shot by Simon Bischoff (in an updated layout; cue the oooh-ahhh’s), VL#40 is a shining example of what makes our motley crew so great. With tall tales aplenty and a tankard of rum nearby, reflecting on the past year has taught me that exceptional stories take time; that our community is bigger and more outlandish than ever; and that keeping the focus on our community is what all of us want most. So there you have it, the one million and one-nth excuse to add to the list...sorry the mag is late. VL Managing Editor

HOLDS

WALLS


READ WATCH LISTEN

Read this BOOK REVIEW: CLIMBING FREE - MY LIFE IN THE VERTICAL WORLD BY LYNN HILL Before reading Climbing Free I admittedly knew very little about Carolynn Hill. “It Goes Boys!” - her famous line after free climbing the Nose, had always stuck in my mind. It stood in defiance of what was deemed possible for female climbers. However, as soon as I learned, this was just one moment in a life full of experiences that would push the barriers of possibility for women. The book is co-authored by Greg Child (Australian-born rock climber, mountaineer, author and filmmaker), goes well beyond Lynn’s journey. It’s a story about life, the history of climbing, and finding meaning in the pursuits we chase. Dotted amongst the pages are the tales of those who made an impression on Lynn’s path. From historic visionaries to Yosemite greats, the book features mountaineering legends, competition superstars, and her original Joshua Tree crew. With nail-biting accounts of legendary ascents, featuring John Salathè, Jim Bridwell, John Long, Mari Gingery, Catherine Destivelle, Alex Lowe, Conrad Anker… the list goes on. The stories of Lynn’s quintessential American childhood lay the foundations of a life defined by self-driven determination. From a young age Lynn’s athletic talent was evident, but what stood out in the book was her ability to analyse body movement. During her years as a gymnast this gave Lynn the awareness to make minute adjustments in form and execute difficult skills. As the perfect picture of childhood begins to crumble, Lynn finds solace in her love of rock climbing and the community of vagabonds it attracts.

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In the early 80’s when Lynn enters the inner crowd of Yosmites infamous Camp 4, readers are transported to a time in climbing that was dominated by characters on the fringe of society, pushing the limits of the sport. Amongst the boulders of Joshua Tree and the towering cliffs of Yosemite, walked the legends of modernday climbing, and Lynn was about to attract attention. Readers are pulled into a world that exists on the end of a rope, thousands of feet from the valley floor. It’s hard not to be in awe of everything Lynn achieved as a young climber. She honed her skills and tenacity on routes that challenged the best climbers, often pushing ever closer to the edge of reason. You get the impression that if Lynn wants to do something, she just makes it happen. As so often happens with those who are redefining what is possible, Lynn also faces the limiting beliefs of people around her. Many moments throughout the book speak of challenges beyond the rock and of dealing with the perceptions and expectations others hold. From the blatant sexism of the macho elite to the ridiculous politics of the competition circuits, Lynn’s level-headed attitude in the face of injustices shines through. She seems to strike a balance between confronting

situations head-on and, not letting them overshadow her own purpose. I could not help but be inspired by everything Lynn has achieved. Yes, my heart did explode on several occasions as she took the limiting expectations placed on women and climbed right through that granite rock ceiling! What intrigued me most was Lynn’s observation of her experiences. She is constantly seeking to understand life on a deeper level, to find reason and purpose in both behaviour and action. The story is written in such a way that I felt carried along on a journey of discovery and understood how each new experience was a vital piece of Lynn’s destiny. When her daring adventures finally reached the last page, goosebumps prickled across my skin, and I was filled with a sense of deep inspiration. Climbing Free - My Life In The Vertical World is the perfect read for those who seek a deeper understanding of the world around them. Climbing Free - My Life In The Vertical World is available at Dymocks.


ISSUE 40 | VERTICALLIFEMAG.COM

Watch this CLIMBING BLIND “It’s quite possible that I wouldn’t be as good a climber, if I didn’t have these challenges, it wouldn’t focus me. That determination is built through my disability.” Climbing Blind tells the story of English climber Jesse Burton, and follows his attempt to become the first blind person to lead climb the iconic Scottish sea stack Old Man Hoy. The 137m sandstone tower sits on the coast of The Orkney Islands, a truly breathtaking part of the world that is captured beautifully throughout the film. High winds, chossy rock, and wandering routes assure a challenging ascent for the most seasoned trad climbers. Yet Jesse will encounter all of this for the first time, with near zero vision. Cameo appearances include a blindfolded, incredibly shaky Neil Gresham, and a disbelieving Leo Holding as he explains the no fall sections, scoffing with amusement

Listen to this MUM’S GONE CLIMBING PODCAST

when he says that “it sounds like my kind of idea… it sounds like a terrible idea”. It’s a story that challenges societal perceptions of people with a disability and the pervasive stereotypes that assume a disability equals unable. The film demonstrates so well the determination and resilience, a common thread in the para climbing community.

IFrom the team that turned the local mothers group into a woman crush crew, comes a podcast that celebrates badass adventure and motherhood. The MGC podcast launched in July 2022, and currently has guests stacked well into next year. Conversations traverse content packed with resources delivered by industry experts, to candid real life chats about the realities of motherhood. All with the aim of promoting maternal wellbeing; physically, mentally and emotionally. Current and upcoming guests include sports dietitian Amanda Watts, trainer Joy Black, physical therapist Dr Kari Swank, Para climber Rachel Maia, and many more that MGC have hidden away in their chalk bag.

Climbing Blind is lighthearted, inspiring and uplifting, but most importantly, it’s a story that reshapes how we see humanity an absolute must-watch. Climbing Blind can be hired or bought through Vimeo on Demand vimeo.com/ondemand/climbingblind

The women of MGC have the ability to draw listeners into their tight knit community, like a giant audio hug which leaves you filled with inspiration. Episodes come in handy bite sized chunks, easily digestible on a trip to the crag or daycare pickup. You can tune in to the Mums Gone Climbing Podcast on Apple Podcasts, Spotify, and a bunch of other platforms for fortnightly episodes. About the reviewer: JANELLE GOW | Nell (she/her) is a writer, film producer, and founder of Mum’s Gone Climbing. She lives with her husband and two sensitive kiddos on Yugambeh country (Gold Coast). Nell is a passionate storyteller, lover of community, and advocate for maternal wellbeing through adventure. @mumsgoneclimbing

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ISSUE 40 | VERTICALLIFEMAG.COM

MOTHER EARTH

SUBMISSION

Words by Dave Barnes, Images by Simon Carter

COMMON CLIMBER’S DAVE BARNES CHRONICLES JACQUES BEAUDOIN’S EPIC PROJECT AS IT BECOMES ONE OF AUSTRALIA’S HARDEST NATURAL LINES. Jacques Beaudoin is a French Canadian from Quebec City who in 2005, moved to Australia for the weather, settling in the Blueys in 2010 for climbing. He has built his climbing resume with ascents throughout Canada, the United States, Asia, and our very own Mount Arapiles. Core to who his being, Jacques has a wanderlust to explore new terrain, of which the Blue Mountains have plenty. This story starts on one of Jacques’ regular sojourns into the gullies and glens of the area, where he finds a striking line that captures his imagination. That line was to consume him for twenty-three months and test his resolve. He talked with me on when he and the climb first met.

While Jacques Beaudoin inched closer to the finale of his project, Simon Carter captured the magic of the area that inspired the route’s name - “Mother Earth”.

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“He talked with me on when he and the climb first met.” “There was a climbing area I wanted to check out when I came across a picture with coordinates located on the Newnes Plateau. I followed the contour up a creek with my two little girls as an exploration day outside during our COVID home-schooling program. We found the usual choss, but the area was pleasant so we just kept walking. We rounded a bend, and I was confronted by an enormous roof and a wild seam.”

added, “The line is undoubtedly inspiring, and the quality of the climbing is exceptional. As for most finger cracks, finger size is important, so the grading is sure to be subjective.”

Jacques’ jaw dropped. From that time, he could barely focus on anything else. The line had cut into his consciousness, and the only way to purge it was to send.

It takes a team to see a project through. Simon Bischoff was invaluable to Jacques. Jacques’ would have walked away after his pinkpoint in 2021 if not for the support of Simon. While Will Vidler was the first extraordinary gentleman to accompany Jacques, the gratitude list is a long one; Nathaniel Glavurdic (Fanny), Brendan Balderson, Pedro Vermelho, Kuva Jacobs (wifey), Gwen Lancashire, James Ridder, Neil Monteith, Paul Thompson, Ben Caldwelladder (pinkpoint), Lloyd Wishart, Julie Anderson and Anton Korsun (redpoint). At times Ben Sanford filmed the motion while Simon Carter shot the stills.

He started with cleaning up a nearby roof classic, “Titan” (26), making short work of it. Next, he checked out “Mother Earth” and thought the nearly 60 degrees of rock shadowing the fingersize crack was totally fused with ironstone, but he rapped in anyway. “To my greatest surprise, some of the ironstone was lose and revealed just enough finger locks to make it interesting. The sandstone surrounding the crack cleaned up to solid smooth rock with very little footholds.” Jacques had seen enough to link where most others would have walked away.

When listening to great climbers speak of mind-bending projects, a common thread begins to emerge; they see what others can’t perceive. When listening to great climbers speak of mind-bending projects, a common thread begins to emerge; they see what others can’t perceive. Their sustained experience in working hard climbs enables them to process probables with the same technical prowess of a computer analyst developing complex programs. It’s not just skill, its intuition - tempered by broad experience. Jacques began his siege and unknotting the twine of impossible. The climb starts with a grade 26+ steep crack with long reaches on finger locks, flaring hand jams, pinches and gastons to two small crimps where the crux gear can be placed - not restful by any means. The crux of Mother Earth is a seven-hand sequence in the depths of a wild 60-degree overhang. Starting with four consecutive finger locks, precision footwork and intricate body positioning. A spectacular crimp - pocket - jug sequence leads to an uncomfortable rest. The difficulty of this section on its own earns a grade of 31. Followed bt the middle crux segment; an impossible-looking bulging crack with fantastic climbing, capped by a horizontal break in a 3-metre roof. And washing it all down, an easy groove exit to top out. This section is more manageable and would go under grade 25 on its own. Jacques

Jacques’ first ascent of Mother Earth was not easy. Amidst the challenges of covid lockdowns, floods, and road closures, finding belayers to assist with projecting was equally difficult.

In mid-August, it all came together. The rock was cold, but the psyche ran hot. Chalking up, he began working through the snake-like moves, slowly inching upwards as he clipped the hard-won runners. The difference? This time there was no apprehension and no difficulties - he had flow. He breathed heavily as he passed through the crux, which had once required a hustle that seemed to know no end. The Jacques scream (known all too well by his band of brothers) echoed through the grotto. This time it was a deeper howl, one that meant business. He climbed through the awkward sequences and unlocked the doors he’d spent months knocking on. As each door opened freely; he moved on to the next.

Jacques scream at the top of the cliff beyond the anchor said it all “M-o-t-h-e-r E-a-r-t-h-! M-o-t-h-e-r E-a-r-t-h!” With a camera Jaques had set up earlier to capture the moment and Anton on belay, Jacques scream at the top of the cliff beyond the anchor said it all - “M-o-t-h-e-r E-a-r-t-h-! M-o-t-h-e-r E-ar-t-h!” Extreme crack lines in Australia are often overlooked in favour of sport routes but if anything, their potential remains largely untapped. What was once seen as impossible is now achievable due to advanced gear, modern techniques, and age-old skulduggery. Climbers like Jacques provide a beacon of what can be found and achieved by an inspiring vision and clever application of the above. Through his contribution of Mother Earth, he has added his name to the long list of impressive Blue Mountains climbing pioneers. Jacques has joined their history and made it part of his story. Who will write the next page?


SUBMISSION MOTHER EARTH

Jacques deep in the process in 2021 as he worked the route on pre-placed gear. Captured by Simon Carter - Onsight Photography

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THE NAME OF THE CLIMB “My little family is environmentally aware. Most things we do iare scrutinizead on an environmental standpoint. We always look for sustainable options. I found a good way to reduce our household rubbish was to say, “Sorry Mother Earth” every time we put something in our bin. From this point, we never used the bin casually. It improved our awareness and made us find different solutions. This and its immediate environment inspired the climb’s name.” LOCATION Surrounded by pristine National Parks, “Mother Earth” is located in the Newnes State Forest. This area faces the harrowing challenges of mining and resource extraction. Underground coal mining takes away an odd two-metre layer and leaves the surface to collapse, creating cracks in the ground and drying up swamps on the plateau. There have also been instances of cliff lines collapsing. The drive through the plateau reveals the extent of destruction created by huge sand mines and mismanaged dead plantation pine forests. The “Mother Earth” area stands as an oasis of what once was. Jacques hopes the name of the climb becomes a signpost, raising awareness to conserve what is left. GEAR Redpoint gear for Mother Earth was five placements of old cams in 24m of climbing. A group of two Black Totems before the crux and a group of three BD cams; 0.2, 0.3, 0.4, directly after the crux. With over one hundred big whippers on the Black Totems, they earned their retirement after the final redpoint.


LOCAL LORE

Golden hour through the spotted gums. Melissa Mooney cruising through Pulling on Porcelin (23). Mitch Scanlan-Bloor

THE NOWRA APPRENTICESHIP EMBRACING THE STEEP BY MITCHELL SCANLAN-BLOOR AND MAX GORDON (YUIN COUNTRY)


ISSUE 40 | VERTICALLIFEMAG.COM

WELCOME TO OUR LOCAL LORE COLUMN, WHERE WE DROP A PIN ON THE CLIMBING MAP AND ASK LOCALS TO GIVE US THE BETA. From local climbing legends & lore to must-do-routes and historical deep dives - we’re letting our favourite locals loose on these pages to tell us how we should be spending our time in their backyards. From tips on embracing the steep and anecdotes on how climbing in Nowra shaped the people they’ve become - Max and Mitch give us the beta on Nowra climbing. I’m sure my experience of learning to climb in Nowra is similar to most; summer days spent sweating bullets at Descent Gully, unable to climb most of the shaded routes as a beginner. Honestly, I wasn’t even aware of what “conditions” meant. Months of weekly visits turned into years of time spent at the crags that border the Shoalhaven River. In those first few years, I was awestruck when I’d pass under the steepest walls, stopping to watch the experienced climbers as they bust into the roofs that have come to define Nowra climbing. Routes like Cowboy Junkies (25), Muscle Hustler (26) and Tramp Stamp (32) would blow my mind as I tried to conceptualise what it would take for me to actually climb them.

For better or worse, the open amphitheatre of South Central puts your efforts on display. In my experience, there’s an atmosphere of immense camaraderie, and folks cheer the climbers projecting Silver Hands (19) as much as they do for those on Dungeon Master (31). The Nowra climbing culture is one that appreciates maximum effort and this is a direct product of the climbing itself. There’s very little room in a hard 12m route to relax, you either bust your guts out all the way to the anchor or you’ll be flung into the air below. Naturally, this makes for entertaining spectating. There’s something special about hunkering down as the rain cascades, a hot drink in hand and watching some world cup level grunting.

At that point in time in my Nowra apprenticeship, it all seemed too much; the jumping, slapping, clipping and inevitably, the whipping. The climbers who influenced me during those early days always seemed like they had something I didn’t - though I’d bet my pinkie finger that we’ve all felt like that at some point in time. It’s easy to have doubts. One by one, I met the Nowra crew. The people who were there week in and week out. Talented climbers like Martin Grymel, Sabine Pratt Hunziker and Jake Noblett were among the many who inspired the determination in me to keep trying harder. On one remarkable day, I watched as Matt Hoschke sent Aloha Paradise with such ease that I never bothered to ask him what grade it was until the car ride home - It’s a 30 by the way.

Climbing at Nowra has taught me a lot over the years, with many of these lessons shaping the climber and, ultimately, the person I have become.

Nowra has been a beast forging factory for decades, churning out some of Australia’s strongest climbers. It was the location of the first V11, 32 and 34 established by an Australian. Before she was ticking off multiple 9a’s at Europe’s top crags, Angie ScarthJohnson was cutting laps in the dark depths of South Central. So what makes this place so conducive to creating steel-fingered mutants, you ask? From about grade 24 and up, the test pieces are typically short, steep, powerful and unrelenting. With approaches being sub 10 minutes to cater for those poor chicken legs, it was the OG spot for gym-rats before climbing gyms popped up on every street corner. Combining Moonboard-like bouldering with good bolting, you’re free to give it all you’ve got without the risk of hitting the ground (belay responsibly, kids). The Nowra style is always on full display at South Central, where the average route length is about 12m, and the closest thing to a slab is still 30 degrees overhanging. Don’t be fooled by the short lengths though; you’ll be fighting for every metre.

At that point in time in my Nowra apprenticeship, it all seemed too much; the jumping, slapping, clipping and inevitably, the whipping. These are the main lessons I’ve hard earned from my ongoing Nowra apprenticeship. Lesson 1 - It’s okay if it feels hard Pulling hard moves is always going to feel hard! Does Ondra reach exorcism-level shrieking as he pulls through a crux because he finds it easy? You bet he doesn’t. It’s possible to climb a route, even if it feels hard while you do it. Lesson 2 - Be patient On a similar note, if you can’t do a move on your first, second, third or even fourth session, it doesn’t mean you won’t ever be able to do it*. It would be easy to diminish Nowra climbing to a pull-up-loving meathead haven, but steep climbing is intricate and requires more finesse than people give it credit for. There have been dozens of limit routes that I’ve sent on my fourth or fifth session, with sequences I couldn’t do in my first few days. It still shocks me how seemingly tiny details, like a thumb on a crystal or a deeper flag, can make a big difference. Nowra has taught me to be patient in finding the best way.

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LOCAL LORE THE NOWRA APPRENTICESHIP

The Nowra climbing culture is one that appreciates maximum effort and this is a direct product of the climbing itself. There’s very little room in a hard 12m route to relax, you either bust your guts out all the way to the anchor or you’ll be flung into the air below. Need some inspiration to work through your Nowra apprenticeship? Here’s a hit list of some of our faves. Grade Range

Master boinker Matt Norgrove showing his superb hip action at Cheesedale. Max Gordon

Lesson 3 - Save yourself Become a master boinker. While flailing around in space after falling from a roof, desperately trying to grab the rock or rope is right of passage; it shouldn’t always end in lowering back to the ground. Watch a video about it or ask a trustworthy friend to show you. Grab your heaviest belay partner and start thrusting.

Style Notes

20 and below 21-24

25+

Big Moves

Orca (18)

Crime is Art (23)

Dude Food (29)

Roof Eat my Specialist Spinning Blades of Steel (20)

The Hustler (24)

Cowboy Junkies (25)

Let’s Get Physical

Shufflepuff (21)

Ain’t No Sunshine (28)

Silver Hands (19)​

The Nowra apprenticeship is largely about embracing athe extreme intensity of climbing. There’s a need for balance here, though; to not let its reputation for power and intensity render a disservice to the broader experience of this sandstone paradise. Although it’s renowned for steep caves, Nowra and its surrounds are pushing past 1300 routes, so bar from a plethora of cracks and mega-multis, there is a lifetime of climbs in every style to be done. Yes, even slabs. Beyond the climbing is the natural wonder the cliffs are situated within. The giant spotted gums that line the banks of the Shoalhaven are something to behold; amongst which lyrebirds lie in wait to whisper sweet nothings (and beta) to those who listen. It truly is a beautiful part of the world. So get yourself down to the South Coast, arm yourself with mozzie repellent, send/consolation pastries, at least 30m of rope and have at it. Happy apprenticing! *Fifth sessions onwards are a grey area and to be treated with curiosity and caution. 22

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Lewis Joseph flexing his years plying the Nowra trade on Plastic Exploding Inevitable (29). Max Gordon


ISSUE 40 | VERTICALLIFEMAG.COM

Liam Atkins earning his roofing ticket on The Hustler (24). Mitch Scanlan-Bloor SPRING 2022

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LOCAL LORE THE NOWRA APPRENTICESHIP

Sometimes it can look easy. Mark McGivern floating up Maximum Cutshot (31). Max Gordon

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ISSUE 40 | VERTICALLIFEMAG.COM

About the authors: Both Mitch and Max contribute heavily to Vertical Life. From their stunning images and expertly crafted words to their seemly neverending passion for the climbing community and its history; they really embody the best of what Nowra climbing has to offer. When planning our second Local Lore column, we couldn’t think of two better people to share the stoke of everything their worldclass backyard has to offer. Keep up with them here

Keen to experience the area for yourself? The Beta’22 Climbing Festival kicks off on Friday night, October 21, with speakers and the Australian premiere of the 3rd Vertical Life Film Tour, and runs until Sunday October 23, 2022. Organised by passionate locals who love the wider area and the local climbing, Beta’22 is like lifting our Local Lore column off these pages and turning them into reality. With speakers, films and a bouldering invitational - Beta’22 is set to be the climbing event of the year. For tickets and more information, head to the Beta’22 website the old-school way or use the QR code.

Max @southcoastclimber

Mitch @mitchsb

Got a three star backyard & beta to match, with the enthusiasm of a used car salesman when people ask you about it? Don’t be shy, get in touch: team@verticallifemag.com

www.MONT.com.au 18 Pirie St Fyshwick ACT 2609


2022 CLIMB COLLECTION

blackdiamondequipment.com.au



INSIDE VLFT3

VERTICAL LIFE FILM TOUR 3 THE VERTICAL LIFE FILM TOUR FIRST LAUNCHED IN 2020 AS THE BRAINCHILD OF VL’S PUBLISHER AND THE FILM-FROTHERS BEHIND ADVENTURE+. WHILE THE WORLD WAS IN CRISIS AND THE PRESSURES OF PRINT MEDIA SEEMED LIKE A FEVER DREAM, THE TOUR WAS CREATED TO KEEP THE PSYCHE ALIVE. SINCE THEN, THE TOUR HAS BEEN TO OVER A DOZEN COUNTRIES AROUND THE WORLD AND HAS SHOWCASED SOME OF THE BEST UNDERGROUND CLIMBING FILMS ON OFFER.

MIDAIR MIDAIR is a metaphysical bouldering film starring the UK’s best allaroundclimber, Jim Pope. Filmed in iconic Lake District locations and set to a pumping techno soundtrack. It encompasses the boulderer’s quest to escape gravity in an endless quest to achieve weightlessness and momentarily leave the world behind. Starring Jim Pope with Frances Bentley, Aidan Roberts and Holly Toothill Director: Louis-Jack

IN 2022 WE ARE BRINGING 8 INCREDIBLE CLIMBING FILMS TOGETHER, EACH WITH PHENOMENAL STORYTELLING AND CINEMATOGRAPHY, TO SETTINGS THAT INSPIRE THE ADVENTURE COMMUNITY TO CONNECT AROUND THE WORLD. DRIVEN BY THE PASSION TO TELL CLIMBERS’ STORIES AND OUR LOVE OF THE GLOBAL CLIMBING COMMUNITY, THE TOUR PREMIERES GLOBALLY RIGHT HERE AT HOME AT THE BETA22’ CLIMBING FESTIVAL IN NOWRA. THE TOUR KICKS OFF IN NOVEMBER - SEE PAGE 32 FOR DATES AND LOCATIONS OR INFO ABOUT HOW TO HOST A SHOW IN YOUR AREA.

EVERYDAY CLIMBERS PABLO Young Belgian climber Pablo, is undertaking his own version of Tour De France - by biking through France in the winter to look for the best 8A route in the country. Director: Florent Quint

Why we love it: A short and punchy ode to falling, with butter-soft narration and gorgeous cinematography - this film reminds us that there’s value in every part of the process (even the shit bits), and motivates us to embrace it all.

Why we love it: Pablo is redefining what it means to perform as a climber on his epic bike-packing odyssey, and gets us psyched to look at our journey to the crag as another opportunity for adventure.

SEVEN 7 SEVEN

GRACE

Seven hundred and seventyseven metres; the bizarre number that measures a gap between two cliffs. In March 2021, a group of dirty and like-minded individuals come together in the Blue Mountains to break the Australian record for the longest line rigged, by bridging this 777m gap. Heartfelt and soulful, Divya Gordon and Ali Vann give you a glimpse into what it is like to be part of the Australian highlining community and what it means to highline. Director: Divya Gordon, Ali Vann

Having spent her teenage years in hospital, Grace finds healing in the climbing community. Director: Sandro Gromen-Hayes

Why we love it: Div is a filmmaker on the rise with a unique perspective that adds so much value to what she produces. In this film, she gives us a good look at what a different definition of ‘Vertical Life’ means to other practitioners of the vertical arts.

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Why we love it: Content Warning: Eating disorders and mental illness. This film serves as a beautiful reminder that for many of us in our community, climbing is so much more than just a physical pursuit. Beautifully shot, Grace tells the story of using climbing to recover from an eating disorder.


AUSTRALIA AND NEW ZEALAND TOUR PARTNERS

MEDIA PARTNERS

ROUTE SETTERS A short documentary film about route setters in Hong Kong’s indoor climbing gyms, and the work that goes into bringing indoor climbing to life. Director: Tony Cheung Why we love it: Finally, the unsung heroes of indoor climbing gyms get the hype documentary they deserve! If you’re someone who doesn’t give much thought to the process behind indoor routes, then this gem of a short film will give you a renewed perspective on the work it takes to make gym climbing epic.

GIGANTOR - THE DOG FACE Australian Climber Zac Vertrees is at home on the Dogface climbing Gigantor, a route first aid climbed in 1967. Zac freed the route in 2005, yet it has not seen a second free ascent since. 15 years later he returns to re-climb it and finds it tougher than ever before. The Dogface is notoriously scary, gear can pop, rusty bolts snap by hand, and the climbing is always a sandy affair. Produced by Ben Sanford Media Why we love it: Ben’s storytelling is full of the atmospheric wonder we crave from Australian climbing films, and this film delivers that - and a classic dose of Zac’s antics - in spades.

THE PROCESS

ELEVATED

Tom Randall is a world-class crack climber. He is also a terrible runner, which is why his latest challenge seems like an odd choice. He decided to link up two of the Lake District’s biggest and toughest endurance challenges, the Bob Graham Round and The Classic Rock challenge into one hellish 24 hour mad dash. Director: Matt Pycroft

Deaf climber Sonya Wilson overcame discrimination, isolation, and seemingly insurmountable obstacles as a child to become the woman she is today—a force of nature changing the face of the climbing world. Produced by Spruce Tone Films with Eddie Bauer

Why we love it: A funny, honest, genuine and heartfelt story involving Tom Randall? Sign us up! Climbing athletes are more multi-talented than we give them credit for, and this film shows us a different side of one of our favourites.

Why we love it: Sonya is trailblazing climbing accessibility for the deaf community by creating ways for deaf climbers to find each other, and spend time together in the outdoors. This film is beautifully shot. It leaves ableism and expectations behind while showcasing Sonya’s incredible story.

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INSIDE VLFT3

THE LOCALS INTRODUCING DIVYA GORDON - THE NEWCOMER AND A TOTAL POWERHOUSE. world. Through film I can express how I and others feel about topics, amplify our voices and even relive a moment again and again as I watch back and edit the vision. I end up so intimately acquainted with my subjects. Reflecting on her new film - Seven 7 Seven Divya tells us about representing herself and her community through film: I wanted to showcase both my experience in the community and the incredible adventures of my friends for a while. This project was a little bit of being in the right place at the right time - but I also felt ready for the first time to represent the sport, both as a highliner and as a filmmaker. It’s nice that we’re all growing together. “Seven 7 Seven,” chronicles a turning point in Australian highlining history. As our community grows from climbers without a clue how to highline, to crushers who want to push the limits. The crew had found a gap, lasered at 777m, to test their capabilities. This length would beat the previous record of 580m. A small step on the way to the kilometre mark, the 777m highline is the longest line rigged in Australia. When nit comes to what it means to Live a Vertical Life, Diya keeps it simple: There seem to be so many great reasons - I’ve spent so many hours exploring this concept through interviews in my films. If I had to put it succinctly, I’d say that to explore what there is to explore, to feel healthy in my body and to spend time with great people whom I deeply admire. Divya Gordon portrait by Aedan O’Donnell

On her journey into film, Divya reminds us about the importance of trying new things and giving back: I first got into film 4 years ago. I had quit my corporate job and traveled Asia & Europe. Next - “figure it all out” was on the agenda, so I started trying things I liked the sound of. I volunteered with the Asylum Seeker Resource Centre, started climbing heaps, and asked my old housemate if she could get me into film. She put a camera in my hands, taught me how to use it and gave me my first job. I haven’t stopped since. It’s now a full-time job, and while I still volunteer with the ASRC and an array of other organisations, now it’s as a filmmaker. What I like about film that I couldn’t have guessed when I started, is how it gives me a way to interact with and conceptualise things in my 30

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On what she films and why Divya advocates for the importance of uniqueness: I make films about the stories that matter to me. It’s also a great way to spend time doing the things you love and get more out of the overall experience. So far, I’ve made films about climbing, highlining, free diving, ski-touring and sailing, as well as social and environmental causes. I think for a film to be good, it has to be unique. That means it has to be close to you, so you’re the only one who could tell it that way.

Get to know Divya via her Instagram @divyagordonfilm - and check out her other films via vimeo.com/divyagordoncreative


ISSUE 40 | VERTICALLIFEMAG.COM

By all accounts, 2022 has been another challenging year for Australian adventure filmmakers, as the first full year without lockdowns and covid bans keeping them cooped up inside. Luckily for us, two of Australia’s best creatives Divya Gordon and Ben Sanford, are delivering the goods to cinema screens everywhere as part of this year’s tour lineup. We love our local heroes here at VL, so we’ve taken a deep dive into the stories behind Australian filmmakers Divya Gordon (Seven 7 Seven) and Ben Sandford (Gigantor: The Dog Face).

BEN SANFORD IS BACK WITH ANOTHER EPIC OFFERING OF LOCAL STOKE - WE LOVE TO SEE IT! On what inspired his journey into film, Ben talks on an unwavering ambition that started young: I picked up my parent’s camera when I was 13 because an older friend, Sam Venn, encouraged me to shoot a sunset with him when we were camping - we both earn a living from film to this day. At 15 I bought my first camera and started doing work experience for a film production company in Sydney that specialised in music videos. I finished school and had my business registered on the day of my final exam. Ever since I picked up a camera, I’ve poured my money and time into shooting. I would like to direct films one day - this is a longer-term goal, maybe in my mid-30s or 40s. First I want to work as a Director of Photography for a decade or so. DOPs make all the decisions camera and lighting focussed. On the story behind his new film “Gigantor: The Dog Face” and why he chose it, Bend speaks on humble strength, type 3 fun and bold lines: In 2019 I decided I’d make a film showcasing trad climbing in the Blue Mountains. Gigantor was just 1 of 8 climbs that will feature in the showcase. Zac Vertrees is one of Australia’s best and most humble climbers. While he’s climbed some very hard routes (33 on sport, 31 on gear), it’s this route that still tests him. It’s still unrepeated some 17 years after Zac freed the line in 2005. The wall is notoriously wild - the soft rock is questionable at best; people snapping old bolts with their fingers; holds disintegrating; it’s always a sandy affair on the wall. Even a redirect Camelot I had placed exploded the rock while I was filming. I believe this route is the boldest send of all, despite being five grades easier than some in the film. The Dogface is real type 2 and type 3 fun, and it takes a unique character to chase that experience.

Conversely, the line is one of the most visually stunning pieces of cliff in the mountains. It was a big ask for Zac to come back and re-climb it for the film, his composure on the wall is incredible - and whilst there’s commentary as he climbs, I can guarantee it’s mild in comparison to how the average strong climber would be reacting. When it comes to living a vertical Life, Ben reminds us that it’s his ambition for people, places and experiences that drives how he spends his time in the mountains: Well in a meaningful way, always ascending is the metaphorical goal. I think the mountains can make you a better person, they’re humbling, and they create a stronger tolerance for physical and mental suffering. I love to feel small amongst giants. This is why I’ve chased alpine pursuits more than just climbing rocks. My goal is to be well-rounded on rock, ice, snow, and water. Kayaking was my first love; then came climbing, canyoning, and snow sports. Living a vertical life allows you to travel to all the places that are hard to reach, and that many will never see or experience. Earning those sights feels so much more rewarding that way. I always say film and photography come second to me by allowing me to spend more time in these wonderful places. I get to do it with people who are often at the peak of their fields, whether that be athletes, guides, technicians or academics. I love to mix it up, I’ve never been one to be totally obsessed with one particular thing. Whilst this means I’ll never be at the very top of one skill - I love the holistic side of things and I am incredibly grateful to have a healthy functioning body that allows me to live life to the fullest. On what he films and why Ben talks work and passion projects: For work, I typically shoot ads for production companies, and the editing is passed on to full-time editors. But occasionally I create things that I’m passionate about from start to finish. I love shooting action, adventure, and mountain sports. I’ve got a downhill mountain biking film, multiple climbing films, and ski films all in the works at the moment. I would love to shoot documentaries, whether they be on animals or people and culture, I think this would be the most fulfilling. Exceeding documentaries like BBC Earth David Attenborough-type films and Jimmy Chin is the goal one day.

Keep up with Ben & his next few films on Instagram @bensanfordmedia or on his website www.bensanfordmedia.com

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FRI, 21 OCT

BETA CLIMBING FESTIVAL / SOUTH NOWRA

THU, 1 DEC

GOLD COAST / HOTA HOME OF THE ARTS

FRI, 4 NOV

SYDNEY NORTH / ROSEVILLE CINEMA

TUE, 20 DEC

HOBART / THE PEACOCK

WED, 9 NOV

SYDNEY EAST / CHAUVEL PALACE CINEMAS

THU, 8 DEC

PORT MACQUARIE / MAJESTIC CINEMAS

THU, 10 NOV

MELBOURNE / ASTOR THEATRE

THU, 8 DEC

SAWTELL / MAJESTIC CINEMAS

TUE, 15 NOV

BLUE MOUNTAINS / MT VIC FLICKS

THU, 8 DEC

SYDNEY CITY / DENDY NEWTOWN

THU, 17 NOV

BRISBANE / NEWFARM SIX CINEMAS

THU, 8 DEC

BRISBANE / MAJESTIC CINEMAS

THU, 17 NOV

CANBERRA / DENDY CINEMAS

THU, 8 DEC

SUNSHINE COAST / MAJESTIC CINEMAS

TUE, 22 NOV

NEWCASTLE / HOYTS CINEMAS

THU, 8 DEC

BRISBANE / DENDY CINEMAS

TUE, 22 NOV

PENRITH / HOYTS CINEMAS

THU, 8 DEC

SOUTHPORT QLD / DENDY CINEMAS

THU, 24 NOV

ADELAIDE / THE REGAL THEATRE

THU, 1 DEC

PERTH / LUNA PALACE ON SX CINEMA

FRI, 25 NOV

PERTH / LUNA PALACE CINEMA

PRODUCED BY CATCH THE AUSTRALIAN PREMIERE OF VERTICAL LIFE FILM TOUR 3 ON FRIDAY, OCTOBER 21 IN NOWRA AS PART OF THE BETA’22 CLIMBING FESTIVAL. VERTICAL LIFE FILM TOUR IS ALSO SCREENING IN NEW ZEALAND. VISIT THE WEBSITE FOR A FULL LIST OF AUSTRALIAN AND NEW ZEALAND SCREENINGS: VERTICALLIFEFILMTOUR.COM


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marmotau.com Huntley GORE-TEX Jacket


HOW I GOT THE SHOT

HOW I GOT THE SHOT BEHIND THE CAMERA FINDING YOUR ELEMENT

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ISSUE 40 | VERTICALLIFEMAG.COM

We interrupt our usual program of deconstructing images and how photographers got them, to bring you something a little different - a tasty treat if you will. In this column we’ve heard from many photographers about apertures, ISOs and all the events that led them to get ‘the shot’...but what about all the things that led to them picking up that camera in the first place? In this issue, we explore the story behind how Photographer Benji Joseph, a timid kid in Sydney’s West, became an entrepreneur by finding his element through climbing. The day I picked up the camera is almost synonymous with when I fell in love with the outdoors. No, it didn’t start on the rocks - but in the ocean. Growing up in Sydney’s west as a fairly timid kid, I wasn’t too adventurous. My upbringing was far from terrible, but I was your average kid, content with what the environment presented to me; between playing basketball and soccer, venturing outside never crossed my mind. Fast forward through school and onto my first year of uni where I was studying for a BA in Visual Communication (Graphic Design); entering my 20’s meant I felt the need to break out of my bubble. Suddenly, I found myself no longer wanting to be a timid kid. The perfect quote to sum up my mindset during that time comes from Jack Nicholson’s character in The Departed: “I don’t want to be a product of my environment, I want my environment to be a product of me”. This was the same year I found my love & appreciation for the outdoors, and it was as simple as jumping on a surfboard for the first time during a trip to Hawaii.

It was in the pursuit of this new goal that I realised I felt equal joy photographing what was happening around me as I did experiencing it - I had found my element. On this trip, every day ended with a surf, or at least a fierce attempt. Of course, I was terrible, but it didn’t matter. I was drawn to the idea of every day being different and not knowing what you were getting into in pursuit of a goal. The day I finally caught my first wave, I knew I was hooked; but it was on something more than just the waves or surfing in general. It was the process of it all, of being forced to conquer whatever the environment presented to me. Ah yes, the once timid boy from western Sydney was hooked!

I found myself taking my cheap waterproof film camera into the ocean on the days I wasn’t trying to catch waves. It was in the pursuit of this new goal that I realised I felt equal joy photographing what was happening around me as I did experiencing it - I had found my element. When I developed the photos, I was blown away by the results, especially considering how cheap the camera was! I didn’t know it at the time, but that plastic toy camera and my surfboard would go on to change my life course. Career-wise, it led me to pursue filmmaking. While my degree focused on graphic design, I didn’t want to become a product of my environment; so I made it my goal to incorporate film into my projects.

Through climbing, I’ve met my best friends and have explored places I never thought I would through this lifestyle. After failing to get a concrete step in the industry after one year of graduating, I took the biggest shot of my life: I quit my safe, soul-sucking full-time job and started my own production house with a uni mate. I repeat, I did not want to be a product of my environment. Lifestyle-wise, I became a lot more open-minded. Surfing was the gateway to skateboarding & longboarding, freediving and finally climbing. Climbing a wall for the first time was like my first time surfing. It quickly extended the first paradigm shift I had surfing in Hawaii all those years ago. Through climbing, I’ve met my best friends and have explored places I never thought I would through this lifestyle. Taking us full speed into 2018; Redscope, the production house I co-founded, is operating at an accomplished level. Being sent to Croatia for a dream job, where my love for filming, travel and climbing merged, was a surreal experience. The opportunity materialised when I met a friend through skateboarding who happened to be a skipper who had taken interest in rock climbing - it was a full circle moment. It’s cliche to say, but climbing (like surfing, skating etc) does teach you valuable skills in resilience. When you’re presented with a route (or a line, a wave, an obstacle, a career opportunity etc), it’s up to you to define your own environment.

When you’re presented with a route (or a line, a wave, an obstacle, a career opportunity etc), it’s up to you to define your own environment. SPRING 2022

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HOW I GOT THE SHOT

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GETTING TO KNOW..

ZHENG (SHE/HER), PERTH/BLUE MOUNTAINS BOAT-BUILDER BY TRADE, BENDY-LEGGED CRUSHER BY REPUTATION!

Attempt on “Mr Line” at Diamond Falls (pre landslide) JULIAN REINHOLD

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ISSUE 40 | VERTICALLIFEMAG.COM

Swena Zheng would be the classic depiction of a triple threat if the definition of ‘triple threat’ itself wasn’t so boring. Replace the standard dancing, singing and acting with Swena’s circus, art and kickboxing; and you’ve got a recipe for the coolest triple threat imaginable. We’ve been following Swena for a while here at VL HQ and we’re psyched to get to know her a little better this edition. With a larger than life personality, her reputation as an underground crusher and a drop-knee that wouldn’t be out of place in a film trailer - and it’s easy to see why we’re excited to introduce her to you. How did you discover climbing? I went to a kid’s party at a climbing gym in Perth. This was before kids’ classes and stuff, back when climbing wasn’t as much of a thing. I used to go on the weekends with my Dad, then once I turned 18 I was fully into it! My plan was to climb and travel a lot, so that’s what I did. Where has been your favourite climbing destination? Maybe Geyikbayırı in Turkey, Wadi Rum in Jordan or Thakhek in Laos. What sparked your interest in crack climbs, is it an anti-style appeal? I actually don’t crack climb too much, though I am trying Fight Club (grade 30 offwidth) at the moment. I just enjoy that it’s very different and it can be kinda nice to start at square one, where you still have so much to learn. It’s easier to learn from something you’ve never done before. You can’t really get worse at it, you can only improve! I feel like it’s way harder to improve as a sport climber since that’s what I mostly do.

As a kickboxer, what are your thoughts on the statement “offwidth climbing is like ultimate fighting with a rock”? Yeah, it’s pretty accurate, although I’d assume it’s more like wrestling. Muay Thai is more like ‘Holy Shit’ where you have to move at a very fast pace and it’s very intense. So I guess Muay Thai would be sport climbing a power endurance climb, where you are super pumped and run out. As someone with so many hobbies (Art/kickboxing/circus) and work, how do you balance it with your climbing? If I’m honest, it’s mostly climbing and art right now. Throughout my life, I would normally climb and have other hobbies going on or I’d want to have a break from climbing and learn something new. I find it hard to balance multiple hobbies. It would be nice to be training Muay Thai or learning Ariel Rope a few times a week, but I think with a lot of my other hobbies I was more inspired by the idea of being good at them than actually just enjoying it. Climbing I just enjoy without the need to excel, though I can’t deny how much I love sending and still want to improve. I’m still quite drawn to fighting and I do miss it. I enjoy how simple it is. You can just train to be faster and stronger, which can be really nice. I love the technical side as well…but I guess the appeal of climbing is you don’t get punched in the face.

I guess the appeal of climbing is you don’t get punched in the face. How was your experience trying Punks In The Gym?

It’s very hardcore, definitely a big jump up from anything else I’ve done in that style. In Perth, there’s Grunt (23)...so I tried and couldn’t do that, and then straight to Fight Club. So far it’s going very very hard, I’m doing very badly at it [laughs], but it’s been fun. I’m getting one shuffle further each time.

It was really fun climbing! Actually, it was similar to trying Fight Club because there was just so much room for improvement. That’s what gets me psyched, such a big challenge with so much opportunity to learn. I wasn’t very good at resting on that trip though, so I never ended up trying it when I was fresh. Even after 6 days on, I would be like “I should rest…actually I should try Punks”. When I left I was pretty psyched to train for it, but I get distracted very easily and can only focus on the things that are in front of me.

Why that climb in particular?

What’s your nemesis project/climb?

I don’t know, I feel like it would be more special to send that than some hard sport climb. It’s just very unique and has lots of street cred [laughs] - it’s all about the street cred! The name definitely gives it some appeal too. Though I haven’t made it very far so I don’t know if I’ll continue this journey.

Maybe Middle Earth (29) at Gateway. The first time I tried it I thought “Yeah it’s pretty easy, probably like 28”. There was this one move I did that felt easy the first time, but I could never do it again…Then all of it felt really hard and it kinda went downhill from there. I think I just wanted to do it because I was thinking

Tell us more about trying Fight Club

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GETTING TO KNOW SWENA ZHENG

Working out the beta on “Hip to the Bumper crop” at Logan Brae JULIAN REINHOLD

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ISSUE 40 | VERTICALLIFEMAG.COM

I’d send it very quickly, but I didn’t - I didn’t even enjoy climbing it. I’m not normally the kind of person who says I’m going to get something next session, that was the first time and then…nope! I’ve never repeated those words since. That’s the good thing about Fight Club, it can only get better because I’ve started off so badly [laughs]. Proudest or most memorable climbing moment? Maybe Kalbarri Gold (26) in WA. I blew 2 cams the go before the send thinking “you can’t screw up plugging cams in a roof crack”. Or maybe sending Big Wednesday (30) at Boronia. It took me a while to get into the Blue Mountains style and I’d only sent up to maybe 28 in the mountains prior to sending Big Wednesday within about a week. I was pretty stoked with that and really enjoyed the climbing as well. What’s up with your drop knees? Yeah, it’s pretty f*cked up. There was actually one time I won a comp because of that, my weird drop knee won me state titles because nobody else thought to do it. I thought people were overreacting to my drop knees until I saw the photos of them.

I thought people were overreacting to my drop knees until I saw the photos of them. Spoodgiest route you’ve ever climbed? Watchtower crack! The first day I got to Araps I saw my mates on it in the rain and thought ‘sucks to be them’. But it kept raining for a week and I didn’t get much climbing in, so when it started raining I was desperate enough that I thought climbing a waterfall slab was better than not climbing at all. Climbing with a flapper or holes in your shoes? Holes in my shoes Onsighting or Projecting? I like both a lot. Post-send celebration food? Mac & cheese or eating out at a Thai or Indian restaurant Which climber do you most admire? Elinor Fleming

BASE CAMP EST 1989

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FORTITUDE VALLEY, BRISBANE

KYLE ADDY PHAEDRA (22 AID:A1) 120m MT MAROON


FEATURE

TAKE

NOTHING

FOR YOUR JOURNEY WORDS BY CHARLIE CREESE IMAGES BY ANDREW LINDBLADE (ASTHEMOUNTAINRISES.COM) UNLESS SPECIFIED OTHERWISE Charlie Creese remembers the character that was Athol Whimp, New Zealand’s most accomplished mountaineer and the country’s first recipient of the Piolet d’Or award, who died in 2012 in an accident in the Darran Mountains. This piece was originally published in UK Climber (UKC), but Charlie felt it should also be shared with the Australian and New Zealand climbing community - after all, this was Athol’s home. VL is delighted to bring this story to our community as, like Charlie, we believe it deserves a place in print here at home. We have re-published the article as it originally appeared in UKC, and offer our gratitude to Charlie, Andrew, and Natalie from UKC for allowing us share it.

Maybe you’ve heard of Athol Whimp, maybe not. Most of his climbing was done in the southern and eastern hemispheres, and most of it was recorded – if at all – in a restrained, low key way, as befitting his “quiet operator” status. Athol resided in Melbourne for about 20 years, ran a business, had his ups and downs, and became something of a legend to those who didn’t know him – or didn’t know him well. I’m a little uneasy about the whole “legend” thing though. The term seems best reserved for constructs like “Agamemnon” or “Moses”; one person perhaps, maybe an agglomeration of people – they may not even have existed at all but whose purported deeds have somehow made it down to the present. Athol wasn’t like that – he really did exist and his deeds are established facts. But there’s no doubting he was larger than life - and that’s saying something in a sport that has never lacked for that quality – his general stand-offishness from the scene only accentuating the mystique he’d already acquired from having been an officer in the SAS and an adviser with a desert reconnaissance unit in Oman. An overachiever. Fate had certainly helped him along in this regard – he was naturally athletic - a distance runner who – no matter what – always kept an evening free to jog around the Royal Botanical Gardens in Melbourne. Smart too; an autodidact really, a guy who could turn his mind to all manner of problems – from navigating in the desert to fighting parking fines in court – and invariably find a solution. The brain, as they say, is the most important muscle in climbing.

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But even the above wouldn’t have been enough to propel him to the heights he’d come to occupy in Australasian climbing in the ‘90s and early 2000s. No. The source of the mystery was this – that he was one of the most competitive people I’ve ever met. Mike Law’s phrase – applied, naturally, to another Antipodean – springs to mind: “He’s so competitive,” said Mike of his rival, “he makes me look like Mahatma Ghandi.” That competitive. Don’t believe me? OK - so we’re driving down Lygon Street – Melbourne’s Italian precinct. We used to spend a lot of time there drinking coffee – Athol’s stimulant of choice – and – latterly - mine too – our avoidance of alcohol putting us – somewhat ironically - in the same company as Donald Trump. We’re discussing a mutual friend who’d gone off on a climbing trip to a remote location after having only recently suffered a bereavement. It seemed a strange thing to do – unseemly almost - and we were speculating as to why. “Maybe,” I conjectured, “they’re trying to hide their lack of grief.” Athol turned and looked at me and I’m thinking “No way - I’ve offended him!” But he wasn’t offended. “Fuck you’re cynical Charles,” he said, voice betraying just the faintest touch of admiration. But before I had time to bask in what I could only take as a compliment, he then casually proceeded to one-up me. “But not as cynical as me,” he declared flatly, thus putting the matter to rest. His gaze then returned to the road – where far beyond


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Athol, Sheila Face, right buttress, 1996

Athol Whimp at Gasherbrum IV base camp during attempts on the mountain, May 2003

Tim Macartney-Snape and Athol Whimp in the Grampians, Australia, December 2004

Near the top of the immense first couloir.

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“The difference between SAS selection and Himalayan mountaineering is that during selection you know you aren’t actually going to die” the horizon, Mother Nature had laid down a series of frightening physical challenges that were there to be met – and hopefully survived, if not actually vanquished – by a rare breed of men and women – adventurous, self-motivated, and resourceful - one of whom was none other than Athol Whimp, his own bad self. The difference between SAS selection and Himalayan mountaineering, he once told me, was that during selection you knew you weren’t actually going to die. Secure in that knowledge, he’d duly made it through when he was barely out of his teens. At the end of two torturous weeks – by which stage he’d lost all sense of time anyhow - he’d been ushered into a room where an officer coldly remarked: “Well I suppose there was no way you were going to fail with a name like yours.” Nine months later he was a Captain. But, as author Greg Crouch once said, the world was quieter then. The New Zealand SAS hadn’t been deployed since the 1960s - and Afghanistan and Iraq, with all their controversies – lay some way off in the future. Athol’s life consisted of training exercises – in New Zealand itself, and Fiji and Western Australia. Some of the people he trained with – rather amusingly – even went on to become famous. You know, like Governor General of New Zealand famous. But it wasn’t quite what he signed on for. So, by various machinations, he found his way to Oman and was selected (by some Englishmen, also employed by The Sultan, who’d been tickled by his name) for the Oman Reconnaissance Force. He’d arrived to take command of his soldiers – some of them former insurgents the government had wisely provided with jobs – without any knowledge of their language, his men no knowledge of his. He learned quickly. A few days were spent spray painting modified V8 Land Rovers in camo, then they headed into the desert - The Empty Quarter, The Rub’ Al Khali – an enormous expanse of dunes first traversed in antiquity by caravans carrying frankincense - and latterly, intrepid Englishmen like Bertram Thomas, St John Philby, and – most famously of all – Wilfred Thesiger. Athol never got the glory, but he did manage to one-up his predecessors in the technology stakes – he had an early Sony Walkman – and whenever I hear Hungry Like the Wolf, I think of him charging through the dunes. Workaday life consisted of apprehending smugglers, chasing foreign nationals back to their side of the border, and settling tribal disputes. But to the west lay Yemen, a failing state, prone to erupting with sudden, incomprehensible violence. Years later, he looked up his old haunts on Google Earth and could still see his tyre tracks in the sand. It was, no doubt, a life you could easily romanticise, especially from afar. He once told me, though – on a rooftop in Melbourne (an environment where he spent a great deal of time in his capacity as a property developer) that it might just have easily driven him to drink. He took furloughs in nearby towns, where there were nurses.

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On another occasion he did a mountaineering course, and that, of course, changed everything. He’d already been going into the mountains back in New Zealand, but this time it was serious. He was midway through his twenties at this point; a late starter perhaps. But if Athol had one favourite expression – apart from “get a real job” (liberally applied to parking inspectors and bureaucrats) – it was “The Golden Age of Climbing is Now.” I think he may have borrowed those words off a friend, but he quickly made them his own. His time in Oman had ended rather abruptly. He’d caught a Freedom Bird one way to Bangkok with nothing more than the fatigues he’d been wearing in the desert. I never did ask him why, although a disagreement with a superior would be my first guess. After that he became his own boss, with no one to disagree with other than himself. He’d taken a cab into the city with a pair of British mates, who now wanted to get stoned. They asked the driver where they could get some chuff and - rather amusingly – the driver pulled over and proudly displayed a whole boot-load of the stuff. Ha! Athol wasn’t one to get wasted; partying wasn’t his style, he had goals to pursue. But now that he was a civvy, it did rather look as though The Counter Culture was closing in. And so he became a climber. By the time I met him he’d already established himself as one of the leading Kiwi alpinists of his era. Hardly surprising really, considering his mission statement - which was “If you think you’re hard, it’s useless unless you’re doing the biggest, hardest routes.” History doesn’t record what he thought about bouldering! I think it was HB - of Taipan Wall fame - who introduced us. We’d met up in a cafe where the staff were being


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Fountainhead, his identification being not so much the philosophy as the fact that the lead character was an architect, the only profession he ever coveted more than special forces soldier). Then there was Bill, who’d quit the army partly to quell the derision he was getting from his long-haired climbing mates, and who spent the next decade chasing that forever receding horizon - “The Last Great Problem” - all the while subjecting himself to some of the more interesting altered states known to man. I’d met Bill at Mount Cook – no snob he – and we saw in 1983 at a New Year’s party in the village dancing to Abba, The Bee Gees, and KC and the Sunshine Band. He also had a serious side that really appealed. His attempts on The Compressor Route had been epic, and the letters he wrote in camp (excerpts of which subsequently appeared in the NZ Alpine Journal in 1983) were infused with a near mystical fervour. “God has my number engraved on a marble,” went one, “and I shall not pass beyond this physical world until he chooses to roll that marble out. At any rate, I am taking no chances and am conducting my life with more respect for nature, the elements and other people than ever before.”

Looking for a way through on the west face.

subsidised by the government to get them off the dole, a very unAthol place, because he had an almost visceral distrust of socialism. But that just underscored how contradictory he could be. And besides, a climber is a climber is a climber: it was the cheapest joint in town. He’d just come back from Patagonia, where he and Andrew Lindblade had done the Pedrini Route on Fitzroy and the Compressor Route on Cerro Torre. Andrew had to head home, but Athol stayed on, and — in fulfilment of what was clearly a long held ambition — repeated the Torre route, this time solo. He told me this with great politeness, but it was clear the best parts were being held in reserve; we might have come from the same country, but he wasn’t melting anytime soon. One of the anomalies of our situation, however, was that even though he was older, I’d actually been climbing longer – which made me, I guess, something of a relic. So I’d met people he hadn’t, people who no longer walked the earth. One of whom was Bill Denz, another renown Kiwi, who’d nearly achieved the first lone ascent of The Compressor Route back in 1981, until an incoming storm and a 30 foot fall onto a stopper persuaded him to save himself for an upcoming trip to The Himalayas – a trip which, sadly, turned out to be the last he ever went on. Athol would have already formed a deep impression of Bill’s character, of course, simply from repeating his routes in New Zealand, which were pretty much the biggest, hardest things the ‘70s had to offer. Athol thought he recognised a kindred spirit. Which he did. But there were differences! On one hand there was Athol, who’d done OK in the army – in spite of a highly individualistic nature (this was a guy who’d seen The

Even then I could quote most of it off the top of my head, which I proceeded to do for my new friend opposite. You’d think it was some far-out free association Bill had sent back to his waster friends in Yosemite. But it wasn’t, it was a letter home to his mother! Athol got it immediately. Maybe there were some deeper implications there, but to us it was just the epitome of small town New Zealand, which is all small town really. Tight knit families and healthily nurtured offspring. But – as the song says – “all boys must run away” and on the occasions when Athol himself was back at home, he’d display his independence of mind by, for example, telling his mother that he was thinking of soloing K2. An old school South Islander, whose treasured possessions included an ice axe, she would have had no illusions about how this could turn out. But you can’t expect your children to live wrapped up in cotton wool. We started hanging after that, though his moods were like mountain weather. The guy was a workaholic, an unabashed capitalist. No matter how much fun it was reminiscing about the characters back in Mount Cook Village (Nick Banks, wherever you are – hi from both of us!), you always got the feeling of the meter ticking. I remember sitting down next to him in a cafe one afternoon – late, no doubt - and the first thing he said was: “You ought to hear what these fucking idiots are talking about.” “What fucking idiots?” I asked, looking around the room – until two pairs of eyes in my peripheral vision brought me back to the now very pissed-off couple at our side. Ha! Poor Athol! He’d overheard their conversation and it turned out they were arts bureaucrats, i.e. recipients of public money. The hardest thing in the world to understand, as Einstein famously said, is income tax – and Athol could never get used to it. It made for some really awkward moments. I consoled myself that it was probably OK to have one “worthy arsehole” as a friend – just as he no doubt consoled himself that socialising with useful idiots like me was a cross he was just going to have to bear. Globalisation was the buzzword back then, and it suited Athol’s agenda to mount an assault on the biggest unclimbed faces in the world, all from a base located in the flattest, most isolated place going (but don’t forget Taipan Wall and Arapiles!). The “tyranny of

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Athol on the Maestri route, January 1994

Brewing up on the west face

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Athol and the incessant spindrift on the west face.

In the Western Cwm, beaten but enlightened by our massive adventure


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distance” didn’t bother him. He could afford a taxi to the airport anyhow (not like you or me!). He and Andrew went to the Gangotri a couple of times, the second time successfully, the object being the coveted North Face of Thalay Sagar. There wasn’t a whole lot of compromising on that particular trip - Andrew once described Athol as a “supreme alpine purist” - and the tactics they employed reflected this. There’s an article in an old Rock Magazine (a charmingly irreverent quarterly that flourished down here in the days before climbing bans), one of the few Athol ever wrote, in which he mentions that he’s leading “on two 100 metre, 8 millimetre diameter static ropes” - which prompted the worried editor to warn his readers that this was a “significant compromise in safety prompted by the unusually demanding route - not recommended!” Well, it wasn’t like every one was suddenly trying it at home. Athol must have been cajoled into writing something in return for some kind of modest sponsorship deal, and it was certainly intriguing to see him open up a little. Typically, one rounded off a piece with a brief self-written bio, and Athol’s was one of the most colourful they’d ever received. It read “Athol Whimp, 36, lives in Melbourne where he is a property developer in his spare time between expeditions. Originally from Christchurch, New Zealand, his early career in the army culminated with his personal stand against communism in the deserts of the Middle East. He says that his strong commitment to mountaineering has had an adverse affect on his ambition to become a millionaire.” It was one of the hardest routes climbed in the Himalayas that year, and when they arrived back in Australia, Andrew and I went out for Singapore noodles at a local restaurant. No ticker tape parade for them. In Australia, that was only reserved for those who’d reached the summit of Everest, irrespective of the style. But the rest of the world noticed. They won the Piolet d’Or, the mountaineering award given out by Montagnes magazine and The Groupe de Haute Montagne. It was something they’d neither “coveted or expected”, certainly not when the greatest prize was survival and when, in Andrew’s words, they’d given everything and got everything back in return. But a golden ice axe was better than antipodean indifference. Well...that’s a little unfair I guess. New Zealand, naturally, has always harboured some kind of climbing culture – this is a country that has a mountaineer on a banknote (Ed Hillary, $5 bucks. Apparently he used to hand them out to his family at Xmas!). Australia, however, despite going on about how “sport is our culture”, can barely recognise alpinism in any form, so if you’ve just come back from “the death zone” and you’re planning to catch up with some friends over coffee, don’t be surprised if the footballer who’s been making headlines for posting inappropriate material on Facebook gets a table long before you do! The humiliations don’t stop there. Athol and Andrew’s next objective was The North Face Direct on Jannu, for which they needed a letter from a recognised body to prove they were legit. There were only a few Australian outfits with the standing and they were more than willing to write a brief reference, all for a small fee (three figures, naturally)! As if it wasn’t hard enough to organise expeditions Down Under anyhow. Athol declined, got a reference from the Federal Minister for Sport – at no cost – and a Golden Ice Axe too, whatever that meant, although, as it subsequently turned out, it meant a “rowdy, fun award ceremony in a Chamonix bar” and a day on the slopes, with Athol remarking that they “had to ski with consummate style now that they

"God has my number engraved on a marble," went one, "and I shall not pass beyond this physical world until he chooses to roll that marble out. At any rate, I am taking no chances and am conducting my life with more respect for nature, the elements and other people than ever before." - From Bill Denz letter home. were in the sort of place James Bond would have skied.” Athol had already shown me the route they were going to try. He had an enlarged photo of it in the boot of his Mercedes. We’d just finished painting the facade of a building belonging to Melbourne University with anti-carbonation paint. It was a classic high access gig - too high for ladders - so we’d utilised a cherry picker and, being climbers, we’d even at one point stepped across the void onto the second storey of the building. But it just so happened that when we did, an off-duty Work Safe Officer was walking past. Athol, who firmly believed that one should commit at least “one act of anarchy per day,” went down for the inevitable showdown and came back about ten minutes later muttering that “no civilian” was going to tell him what to do. “But isn’t that how it works in the military?” I asked. He wasn’t listening, of course. After we’d finished, we ended up beside his car. Athol was still talking about the trips he’d made to Japan to pay homage to the architectural works of Todao Ando, the so-called “poet of concrete.” He’d even gone down to Osaka to see Ando’s office and while he was there, who should walk out the door but Ando himself! Think the SAS are hard? Athol had been too shy to introduce himself! “It’s called stalking,” I said, but he was already popping the boot. And there it was: Jannu, North Face Direct. It seemed a strange place to keep it, but then again, maybe he didn’t want to look at it too often. “What a big, frightening thing,” he said gravely. Silence. There was no mistaking the steepness of the final headwall - or the fact that it didn’t even start until the 7000 metre mark. Someone was going to have to go up there, and it wasn’t going to be me. Rock Magazine got an article out of that one too (the Whimp autobiography, BTW, was never really on the cards – he was a doer, not a writer, although I don’t doubt he would have quite happily paid someone to do it, rock star that he was). In fact, he nearly didn’t make it home to write anything. Their portaledge had been destroyed by rock fall at 6000 metres while they were still in it – although, incredibly, neither one was hurt. But the North Face SPRING 2022

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“Andy,” reads the card, “sunset on G IV! Imagine being up there on one last bivi before the summit, digging a ledge for the tent, watching the sun go down. Fuck! We should have the most amazing trip ever - mind you it is pretty hard to top Thalay + Jannu. I still don’t know which route – they are all awesome. But the West Face....Get psyched dude!” All written with the alacrity of a man inviting a friend to a music festival, even though they both had roughly a one in ten chance of not coming back. We talked about this over coffee. “It doesn’t take much,” he said, referring to how quickly things could go south on a route. “Don’t go,” I said reasonably. I mean, if anyone had earned the right to expire in a warm bed at the end of a long happy life, surely it was him. He said something like “I love life – but this is what I do” and I think it was at this point I began to realise that there probably wasn’t much chance I’d see the money he still owed me, ha! He’d kind of nailed it though, ‘cos back in those days, if you loved life – in the sense that you liked the wind in your hair, or the thrill of the chase, or the sharp adrenal surge that accompanies danger – then chances were you’d end up a climber, ‘cos what better life is there? And the history of the sport becomes ever more compelling the deeper you get into the thing. Certain high points stand out: one of which would have to be The Shining Wall of G IV. The way Athol talked about it, it was like the first ascent had been done by seekers on a mystical quest, the stuff of legends. These days, of course, you can read the original account on your phone. although none of the mystique has been lost: the writing is, by turns, concise, factual, and poetic – the latter being the perfect vehicle for dealing with out-of-body-experiences, disembodied spirits, and a mountain (an inanimate lump of stone, surely?) that possessed a conscious awareness of – and a malevolent attitude towards – the puny beings clawing their way up its side. Not too many people have passed that way since the first ascent apparently. I wondered how Athol – a staunch rationalist - would go as he inched ever higher into the interface between the corporeal world and the supernatural one, although I remember once he told me that his atheism had wavered somewhat in the face of the Italian art he’d seen in The Met in New York (Caravaggio, in particular), which certainly revealed an unexpected susceptibility to religious propaganda. Maybe he’d turn into a bird up there in the upper reaches of The West Face – although, being Athol, he would have acted as though this was what he’d been planning all along. But like so many expeditions to the Greater Ranges, their trip was thwarted by nothing more or less dramatic than the weather. The pictures he managed to take all attested to the committing nature of the climb – they were un-roped a lot of the time, and decent bivouac spots were almost non existent. They did, however, have the satisfaction of knowing they were some of the few people who’d ever been up that far – no mean thing in an over-crowded world. They had do some pretty hairy down climbing to get back. “At times,” wrote Andrew, “we would look into each other’s eyes...and it felt like our very beings were evaporating.” But back you must come, ‘cos freedom is only fleeting, and there are always more bills to pay. Indeed, in the years following this – the last of their great expeditions - Athol worked so hard on his property business that his climbing dried up entirely, which was incredible really, ‘cos I’d


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Epic retreat off the northwest ridge

Climbing on the west face.

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FEATURE TAKE NOTHING FOR YOUR JOURNEY of trouble, a category which he kind of conformed to, with the proviso that the trouble he did cause was often – at the time – or even better, in retrospect – very entertaining (“Charles, I need you to give me an alibi”). And yet for all his cynicism, his tendency to default back to an insistence that there was no type of behaviour whose root cause couldn’t be traced to a desire for money, status, or power, there were times when his personality would dramatically flip poles. We were in a cafe and one of the staff was – well, if I say “odd” I’ll be in trouble for being non-inclusive, so let’s put it this way: their idiosyncrasies were basically the first thing you noticed. Which caused me to remark, in an undertone: “Christ, you wonder how these people ever find partners.” But Athol was having none of it. “No Charles,” he said sagely, “there’s someone for everyone.” I just stared at him. WTF?!! “Who are you?” I thought – “and what have you done with my friend?”

West face from base camp.

always figured him for a lifer. Sensing he was vulnerable, I got him to come bouldering, which was a bit like getting an All Black – M’aa Nonu, for example - to come and play touch rugby (the massive, dread-locked Nonu being one of Athol’s favourites - “I’m not gay,” he’d claim, “but I’d put product in Nonu’s hair.”). And so we went out to the area loosely known as The Goldfields, a series of granite tors north of Melbourne. Not world-class, by any means, but not a world-class pain in the arse to get to either, which is always a plus in Australia. He kind of damned the activity with faint praise. It was “great fun,” he said, which, given that most of the activities he deemed worthy were more or less exercises in extreme suffering, really gave the game away. I’d be topping out on some 6 or 7 metre granite egg, and I’d hear his voice casually informing anyone else present (gym aficionados usually, none of whom could believe that boulder problems ever got so big) that what I was doing was “not real climbing.” Well I’m not Mahatma Ghandi either, so a number of times I burnt him off on highballs to which he wasn’t game to commit, and I was like “What’s the problem – too unreal for you?” Ha! But the chemistry made me climb like I hadn’t climbed in years and he was the one of the lowest-maintenance partners I’d ever had: just boots and chalk, and never a word of complaint about a 10 minute uphill walk to the next problem. We were also united in our disdain for boulder pads, which were obviously a sign of cowardice, but it so happened that towards the end of his life he reconnected with his erstwhile sponsors, Metolius – and when they heard he’d been doing a bit of “pebble wrestling,” they offered him one of their finest mattresses! To which I could only respond “Can you get two?” We hung out lots in the end. I’d reached the age when there were no “special” people in my life, only those who caused the least amount

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Indeed, life’s rich pageant never failed to elicit a thoughtful commentary from this most astute of all observers. One day we were talking about people who regret tattoos and Athol looked at me, an evil glint in his eye, and said “Do you think Charles Manson regrets that swastika on his forehead every time he goes before the parole board?” Another time we were some place from which one of those awful university orientation groups had just decamped – and someone had left a copy of the uni paper. We leafed through. One’s first few weeks of term, announced an earnest editorial, were a great opportunity for freshers to experiment with different “lifestyles.” Lifestyles – what did that mean? Binge drinking, ship modelling, writing romance novels – dare I say it – rock climbing? Athol, however, was adamant it could only mean one thing: “girl on girl action” (no doubt it meant “boy on boy action” too – but I wasn’t about to raise this with someone who’d just spent long years in the army). Not that you’d get him on campus. The one time I succeeded, I’d been eyeing some off-cuts in a skip and had convinced him to tag along, all he did was bitch about the place being a refuge for tenured mediocrities who had no idea how the real world operated. Probably what Plato had in mind, now that I think about it! I remember the day in 2011 when the news broke that Walter Bonatti had died. Well this wasn’t exactly headline material in parochial Australia, but I figured I knew one guy who’d be interested, so I let him know by email. He was stoic as always. His return email read “Very sad - but what a life! Standing on top of Gasherbrum 4!!” To which he added “I checked - no worthwhile rugby tonight.” Dang! That meant Australia was playing. It was World Cup year, the tournament was being held in New Zealand, and the All Blacks – who’d gone into every World Cup as favourites – were at the end of a 24 year losing streak. Talk about a hoodoo! I wouldn’t say we were rugby tragics exactly, just a pair of ex-pats looking for a way to express our loyalty to a country that neither of us wanted to live in. The All Blacks were in an awkward position - winning at home wouldn’t vindicate them entirely (Christ, even the Wallabies could win at home occasionally), but losing in front of the assembled fans simply didn’t bear thinking about. The pool stages were a blur - high speed walkovers against lesser teams - none of which mattered if you never got to grasp the trophy. But they were fun to riff on. I remember watching a young


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Australian nearly having his career ended by just one tackle, and surmising out loud that if he could survive that, then he probably had a great future. To which Athol – who’d played rugby against the Fijian Army, and who could probably still feel it on cold nights – replied “Yeah – as a librarian!” Ha, in a world where mainstream sport is so unashamedly brutal, why is it so hard to explain climbing to the layman? We made it into the finals, of course – NZ vs France at Eden Park in Auckland. I remember walking into the city that night: the prevailing code in Melbourne is Aussie Rules, so there was no outward sign that a major sporting event was about to get underway. Every English and Irish themed pub, however, had a crowd outside and it was in one of these places I found Athol, comfortably ensconced with a good view, his jacket draped over the seat beside him. That one was for me. Well if that’s not friendship, then what is? And looking back, it still seems incredible that he was just a few short months from the end – although this was a guy who once said – of mountaineering – that he’d rather die than fail – so if I figured I knew something about non-attachment, then I was soon going to get some practice. But if fate robbed him of a big chunk of his life, there’s no doubt that the way time dilated in the last 20 minutes of the 2011 Rugby World Cup Final made up for it to an extent. What did Einstein say about putting one’s hand on a hot stove? One moment feels like an eternity. That’s relativity. Watching the All Blacks defend a one point lead - against the team that had shattered their World Cup hopes not once, but twice - was like several eternities in a row; a generous deposit in one’s allotted share of Earth Time, to be sure, but with the caveat that it was only to be spent in a most uncomfortable way. Athol was more of a Kiwi than I realised. The All Black scrum was beginning to wilt, which was hardly surprising really, ‘cos being the team with the most to lose, they didn’t want to get penalised. But it was like taking a long fall: you know the rope is designed to stretch, but there are times it stretches way more than you can bear. Athol, it seemed, had had enough – he suddenly got to his feet.

known to man. But what did a losing Kiwi side have? Three small, windswept islands on the bottom of the world. It didn’t bear thinking about. With the final quarter to go, we’d been caught out on the wrong side of the line, and only sheer grit had gotten us back. But was it sheer grit? Maybe it was something else – a higher force perhaps – and maybe I ought to be paying my dues to that force. Who knew? I did know one thing though: I wasn’t going to take any chances. I was now resolved to conduct my life with more respect for nature, the elements and other people than ever before. Christ, maybe I could even bring myself to be a little more patient with non-climbers. I guess you could say I’d had an epiphany. I tried to tell Athol, but his expression – which only moments before had been one of un-self-conscious joy – had already reverted back to the habitual gnawing hunger that drove him, that was always going to drive him. “2015,” he was saying fiercely, referring to the next World Cup, “let’s go back-to-back.” Of course, I realised, a second World Cup victory in 24 years just wasn’t enough – we had to keep winning. Like I said, he was competitive. We did go back-to-back actually, but Athol wasn’t there to see it. This isn’t really the place to dwell on that – and where would that get us anyhow? But I do know a great epitaph for the type of person he was – a climber - that unique mutation of the human form that slowly began to evolve when the first dreamers started looking up at the flanks of Mont Blanc and thought they detected a line. The epitaph comes from Yosemite’s Jo Whitford, a woman who’s known a few individualists over the years, and who, when speaking of a late contemporary, described him as “intelligent, kind, arrogant, bitter, and very hard to know.” And – crucially – no matter how difficult he could be - “we all wanted to be him.” Indeed. Athol Whimp, mountaineer.

“I can’t watch,” he said. I forced my eyes away from the screen and looked at him, totally bewildered by this unexpected turn of events. This was the guy who’d willed himself through SAS selection by clinging to the thought that no matter how excruciating it was, it still had to come to an end eventually. But who wanted to see New Zealand choke in yet another World Cup? “I’m going outside,” he said urgently. “How’s that going to help?” I asked. After all, it would have been all but impossible to refrain from peeking through the window every time the crowd went into hysterics. And God - I didn’t fancy watching the rest of the game on my own. Fortunately, he sat down again. And ultimately the game did indeed draw to a close. And when it did, we were still one point in front - a margin that certainly didn’t do much to prop up the myth of All Black invincibility. But a win is a win is a win. The whole thing had affected me quite profoundly: my pulse was up and my forehead hot to touch. Graciousness in defeat is nice and easily afforded by a losing French side that only had to head home to enjoy one of the most enviable lifestyles

Athol at the Cobaw Range, Victoria. Charlie Creese

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GLOBAL CLIMBING DAY

WHAT MAKES A

Climber This year’s Global Climbing Day theme struck a chord with us here at VL HQ. In our previous editor’s note, we discussed what it meant to be a climber, and we offered up a different way to reflect on our shared identity. Not long after releasing the mag, our pals at The North Face gave us the inside scoop that this would also be the theme of this year’s Global Climbing Day. The synergies between the days’ focus and our editor’s note made us wonder whether we’re actually psychics, or if someone leaked our draft to the USA North Face HQ.

From the artistic flair of our hominin ancestors to the bolshie antics of 18thcentury explorers - Coz digs into how we got here to help us dig deeper into who we are as climbers.

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Kristin celebrates Global Climbing Day with the community she co-founded, Colourful Climbers Andrew Ng


ISSUE 40 | VERTICALLIFEMAG.COM

If you’re looking for succinct and poetic reflections on what it means to be a climber in 2022, a treasure trove of book excerpts, essays and poems written by the global greats is just a Google search away. Over on social media, Facebook pages dedicated to professional athletes serve up daily doses of curated aspirational content, while Instagram gives you more inspiring quote graphics than you could poke a stick-clip at. Through Instagram Reels & TikTok, there are enough short climbing clips set to trending indie music to keep you up well past your bedtime; while YouTube serves up film trailers packed to the brim with tales of triumph and all the long-form video beta you could dream of. In this day and age, there’s no shortage of commentary about what makes a climber. Digging deeper into defining the essence of what makes us who we are as climbers, it’s imperative to first take a look at how we came to do what we do in the first place. In his 2020 Gripped Magazine piece titled “How Climbing Really Began, in Africa, Asia and the Americas”, Dave Smart offers a fast-paced summary of how contemporary anthropologists are unpacking the Euro-centric origin story most of us climbers have come to believe about our sport. In recent years, the belief that climbing started as a pastime in the UK and Europe, is being carefully unpacked and put to the side by teams of brilliant scientists, anthropologists, First Nations leaders, archeologists and historians; in favour of historical evidence that speaks to all humans descending from climbers. Long before climbing was a passion of the wealthy in western Europe around the 18th century, ancient humans in Africa and around the globe were climbing to hunt, seek safety and practice culture. The evidence of reliance on climbing during the evolution of humanity can be seen in cave paintings; mountain burial, quarrying and food sites in places like China, Spain, Chile, Peru, America and Australia - just to name a few. Images of the Anasazi cliff art in Utah; the oldest known figurative artwork in the mountain-top caves of Borneo; the level of detail in the 5500 BC Levantine cave art depicting climbers using rope to harvest honey on cliff faces; and the spectacular Huashan rock art panel in China; are all incredible examples that humanity’s relationship with rock started long before European explorers decided that ‘crack is back’. Dubbed by researchers as one of the four physical behaviours imperative to the evolution of hominids; and connected to modern anatomical adaptations in the human body as our species transitioned away from the trees towards terrestrial dwellings - it’s clear that when we’re looking at how we want to define our identities as climbers, the first stop should be our DNA. The most impressive part of this growing body of evidence? It’s knowing that while you’re gassed on your proj, desperately trying to place gear or clip the next bolt - your ancient ancestors had the skill and mental chops mid-route to paint cliff art, move

“Climbing does not mean just competition and performance. It has other qualities that are important: going on trips, meeting people, seeing other cultures” -Wolfgang Güllich bodies of dead loved ones to their final, lofty resting places, and collect food for traditional medicines. How’s that for a slice of humble pie? While this isn’t the time or place for a long-winded op-ed detailing every intricacy of the science that points toward climbing playing a pivotal role in the literal evolution of humanity (don’t threaten me with a good time, but for now I’ll leave you to read Dave Smart’s article as a start), this is, however, the perfect place to reflect on what this means for our shared identity as climbers in 2022. With a scientific history of human climbing that spans nearly 20 million years, set against a juxtaposing popular narrative that climbing was born from a wealthy European hobby - it’s clear to see why so many climbers in our contemporary community find it difficult to connect with ‘climber’ as a label. Many of us don’t climb as a direct result of Walter Perry Haskett-Smith - the supposed “Father of Rock Climbing”, or his first known solo ascent of the Naples Needle in 1886. I’d happily wager that the vast majority of us who partake in the vertical arts today haven’t even read “Climbing In The British Isles”, nor intend to. It’s clear that our motivations as individuals and as a collective community have changed since then - so what does it mean to be a climber today? We know that in our current digital context, it isn’t breaking news to reflect on what it means to be a climber; but yet when it came to writing the editors’ note in our last issue, we were notably apprehensive. The thought of opening the mag with quotes from people elated to see themselves represented in Vertical Life for the first time could have meant that others, who were used to only seeing stories in VL that mirrored their own experiences, would close the mag and walk away - was enough to make us nervous. Truthfully, we wondered whether we should even publish it at all, but after hours of re-writes and deciding that it was an important conversation for our mag to have more prominently - we went to print. To our surprise, within a few hours of the magazine hitting mailboxes and stockist shelves, our notifications lit up with people excited to see a different take on what it means SPRING 2022

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GLOBAL CLIMBING DAY

opportunity to bring new voices into the mag as an exciting one. Our issue #39 editors’ note circled around two main themes - who gets to call themselves climbers, and which climbers deserve to have their stories told. We were clear that our role as a mag is not to define and decide who gets to call themselves a climber, but to instead, ensure that all who do have shining examples of people who look, see, feel and experience the sport like they do. To truly be a mirror of the range of experiences in our community. Just as we have a part to play in creating an experience that makes people who climb excited to call themselves climbers, so too does the larger ecosystem we all exist within. From climbing brands, gyms, and other online and physical publications; right down to every individual in our collective community. It’s the responsibility of all of us to empower climbers of all levels to participate in this crazy, yet historical love we all share. That’s why each year in August, the VL team get really excited about The North Face’s Global Climbing Day initiative. In our day-to-day, we’re often too busy to sit and ponder our relationship to climbing, be it physical, cultural or historical, and engage in ways we can make that same relationship accessible to others. However, this is the type of thinking Global Climbing Day encourages, and that’s something we really enjoy getting behind.

Dainslie & Emily celebrating Global Climbing Day Andrew Ng

“The best climber in the world is the one having the most fun!” – Alex Lowe

With the primary objective of lowering barriers to entry into climbing, Global Climbing Day has been busily building a movement of its own here in Australia and Aotearoa/New Zealand for the last 6 years. This year, over 41 climbing gyms across Australia and New Zealand, plus a host of extra events run by the two founding partners of The Explore Fund Grant - The Affinity Initiative and ClimbingQTs - encouraged climbers to embrace the label and find common ground. Free entry, prizes, athlete-led events, ‘come & try’ sessions and specialised events to encourage participation for people of colour and LGBTQIA+ people, meant that the community was a hive of activity on August 20.

to be a climber. See that’s the thing about asking hard questions; oftentimes the hardest part about the question isn’t the answer, the difficulty is in the process of asking.

With thousands of people experiencing climbing for the first time at Global Climbing Day events across Australia and & New Zealand, and thousands of people who already identify as climbers rolling out the welcome mat online, at gyms and crags - we feel that this was the perfect moment for us to appreciate the work that goes into creating moments like this at every level of our climbing ecosystem. Just like our ancient ancestors who evolved to rely on climbing, so too, do many businesses, athletes and individuals alike.

Fortunately for us, the Vertical Life community enjoys hard questions, and their response stood as a testament to our decision to open the doors of Vertical Life a little wider. We see the vast, deep and diverse climbing community both in our gyms and at the crag because we’re there too. As a result - we see the

As a community connected by this obscure need to get vertical, it’s important that we keep reminding ourselves beyond Global Climbing Day, that what we do is more than a simple sport, hobby or pastime. There’s something deeper in our shared identity that connects us and keeps us climbing. Be it to challenge

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ISSUE 40 | VERTICALLIFEMAG.COM

what we think we’re capable of like the trail-blazing Lyn Hill; to meet new people and experience new cultures like the daring Wolfgang Güllich; or to simply share the spirit of Alex Lowe and to have the most fun possible - it’s our desire to climb no matter the reason, that has become our common thread.

Jo celebrating Global Climbing Day with the Women Uprising and Affinity Initiative communities she founded. Andrew Ng

Through our new understanding of the history of climbing, we know that people have relied on climbing for a myriad of different reasons. Be they spiritual, practical or physical; according to science, for as long as humans could paint, they could handjam. So next time you’re at the gym or at the crag, and you find yourself having an existential crisis mid-crux, take a moment to remember that the how you’ve gotten here isjust as important as the why - and that they’ve both come from the history of the collective value we have created for each other as climbers. Whether you’re on the wall to reconnect to your ancestor’s relationship with the rock or a simple curiosity that lingers within whatever your reason for climbing, you are a climber, and you’re welcome here.

Donna Hyunh celebrates Global Climbing Day at an Affinity Initiative event at Werribee Gorge (Wadawurrung and Wurundjeri Country). Phillip Le

“For me, climbing is a form of exploration that inspires me to confront my own inner nature within nature. It’s a means of experiencing a state of consciousness where there are no distractions or expectations. This intuitive state of being is what allows me to experience moments of true freedom and harmony.” - Lynn Hill SPRING 2022

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SPONSORED CONTENT

After years of frustrations with the poor quality of adventure clothing and equipment available, Monty had enough and made something better- something he could rely on. In 1978, using a borrowed sewing machine, he made himself a sleeping bag, down jacket and tent. Friends were impressed by his creations, and commissioned pieces. A reputation for quality gear quickly spread and in 1981, Mont Adventure Equipment was born.

Today, Mont is still privately owned and based in Canberra. We’re fiercely independent and totally committed to creating better gear for the wild. While Mont has long since outgrown Monty’s small unit in Canberra, he still directs the company and works closely with a passionate team on the design and testing of all Mont products. Weekly, we hear from customers that still have and use their Mont jackets and sleeping bags that Monty personally made in the 80’s! The Mont shop itself is both the face of the warehouse and our head office; it’s the only Mont shop in Australia. We sell the full Mont range, and to compliment that, we have a range of outdoor gear from brands like La Sportiva, DMM, Edelrid and Sterling. We still custom make our high altitude jackets and pants on site in our Canberra warehouse. We are proud to have one of the widest ranges of climbing, mountaineering and height safety equipment in Australia. The team at Mont have a broad wealth of experience. With Mountaineers who have summited Everest, Ice climbers (Matt is currently on a 4 month expedition in Peru!) and our Store Asistant Manager Kale recently returning from route setting the National Youth Climbing Championships. The Mont HQ is a hive of activity, and adventure stories. 56

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Our customers can even see new equipment prototypes being set up and tested in-store; making the experience at Mont second to none. We design and manufacture gear built for purpose, and we don’t compromise on high quality. Manufacturing with materials selected for their durability and high performance ensures that Mont gear stays functional in the field for as long as possible. Our philosophy is that the more durable your gear, the longer it will last and the better value for your money; ultimately meaning less waste ends up in landfill. You’ll find ‘something better’ written on the label of every Mont product. This a testament to the philosophy behind Mont. It’s what we stand by when we design our products, and when we select gear for the store. Planting trees is one of the ways Mont is moving towards a climate-neutral status for our business, gear and our customer's orders. To help to reduce Mont’s carbon footprint we aim to plant 1 million trees by 2025. Mont is also committed to ethical production, responsible down standards, utilizing 100% recycled fabric on our Hydronatue XT-R products and using plastic free and compostable packaging. With good local knowledge, friendly service and gear that has been trusted in the wild for over 40 years, there’s something for everyone at Mont.


TALE OF WOAH

Tale

OF WHOA

TUMBLING OUT OF CONTROL WORDS BY AARON LOWNDES, IMAGE BY WILL VIDLER


TALE OF WOAH TUMBLING OUT OF CONTROL

“Climbing can be as safe or as dangerous as you make it”. We don’t know who first said this, but thanks Emily Harrington for bringing it back - we’re damn thankful! Safety is everyone’s responsibility in the climbing community, and it’s something we’re extremely passionate about at VL. We created Tale of Woah as a standing column in each edition of the mag as a way to help create a culture of safety in our sport, especially as our community grows at an unprecedented rate and Reddit forums run rampant. In this edition, Aaron Lowndes of Melbourne Climbing School reminds us why using a prusik to back up your abseil is not a ‘personal decision’. If you are not in the habit of using a prusik to back up your ATC or non-ABD device when abseiling - you should be. I didn’t, for a very long time and like any good, “experienced” climber with an inflated ego, I carried with me a belief in my own immortality. Yet there are so many stories of abseiling accidents that happen to otherwise very experienced climbers. Two examples that stuck out in my mind before my own ‘turning point’ were the deaths of well-known New Zealand climber Willie Butler (53), and professional American climber Todd Skinner (47). In 2003, after decades bolting the rock at Paynes Ford, Willie Butler abseiled off the end of his rope and fell 10m to his death. Tragically only three years later, in 2006, Todd Skinner’s harness belay-loop broke mid-abseil while descending a new route that he and his climbing partner Jim Hewitt had just completed on Yosemite’s Leaning Tower. Looking into Todd’s accident in more detail, it appeared that he had routinely left a daisy chain girth-hitched to his belay loop, resulting in repeated wear in the same spot instead of letting the belay loop rotate freely and wear evenly over time. The carryforward lesson here: don’t leave slings girth-hitched to your harness, and retire the harness at the very first sign of wear. In Willie’s case, the accident wouldn’t have happened if he’d simply tied stopper knots at the end of the rope/s before abseiling. Perhaps a knot swinging around in space below him would have caught his eye even before he got to it, or perhaps he would have haplessly abseiled right into the knot before realising his mistake. Either way, life would have gone on for Willie, and the event would have garnered no more attention than any other. These two accidents stuck in my mind for a long time. They served as prime examples of experienced climbers making simple, preventable mistakes and tragically losing their lives as a result. While it can be argued that simply using a prusik backup to protect an abseil would not have prevented either of the above accidents; unless perhaps if Willie’s prusik had been situated above the belay device rather than the more common below; or if either Todds’ prusik or his belay device were attached to something other than his belay loop. The reason why these 58

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accidents stayed in my memory is a simple one; they shifted my view on abseiling from something simple, to something fucking dangerous. Not to mention a really shitty way to die, and the kicker? It’s avoidable! It’s kind of like wearing a seatbelt while in a car. When it comes to abseiling, a prusik is about as easy to put on as a seatbelt, and just like a seatbelt, it prevents far more accidents than it causes. While understanding these accidents did eventually help to reshape my attitude, it was my own abseiling near-miss that forced me to make a deliberate change in my own habits. During a NSW climbing trip sometime in 2011, before heading home for the day, I set up a single-line abseil to retrieve a stuck piece of gear. Unfortunately, there was only one suitable anchor placement directly in line with my descent - a perfect #1 cam between a smooth wall and what looked like a fairly solid, roughly barfridge-sized rock. I had decided to tie the rope to a main anchor (a tree 5m to the left) and to run a sharp-angle redirect through the cam, down my descent line. Not carrying a prusik at the time, I decided to use my Reverso’s “guide-mode” feature just in case the cam came out and I lost control. After leaning out over the edge and with all of my weight on the rope, I judged the cam to be holding fine. Slowly I descended, quickly discovering that releasing rope smoothly through a guidemode device is actually quite hard. The very first bounce was too much for that less-than-stellar cam; and in a blur I was pulled down and to the side - spinning out of control. My arm hit the rock, knocking the brake rope out of my hand. The realisations I had while this unfolded went something like this; the cam ripped - shit! As I was scrabbling for the brake rope with both hands, I could visualise the rope sawing across the top edge of the cliff, something I had completely failed to anticipate. I looked up expecting to see a shredded core holding me, and it took a few seconds to realise the rope was still intact. Then my mind returned to the cam; If it had popped, it was because that bar-fridge sized block had moved. Was it about to tumble over the edge onto my head, or down the cliff below me? I looked down, seeing the rest of my party directly below me. While my slow, addled mind adjusted, from my mouth came a hoarse “ROCK!”, and then “BIG ROCK” and finally “MMMOVE!”. When they did, I looked up - no rock. After several seconds of staring there was still no rock. Finally I closed my eyes and thought, Holy shit, I knew that cam might rip out. I had even planned for it! And still, only after it had did I realise how many potential consequences I hadn’t even considered! And even though I had adjusted my system just in case the unthinkable happened, I had still let go of the brake rope! I don’t remember much of what I did after that, but sometime later I arrived back at the top to de-rig and noticed that the boulder had only shifted 2-3cm, exposing some clean dirt. There were black ants everywhere. I absurdly thought to apologise for disturbing their home. I needed to apologise to myself for being so stupid. For everyone else that day this was a non-event, something that


Ashlee Hendy, Bogong Sponsored Athlete Have a Good Flight (26) - Arapiles nearly happened to someone else but didn’t. A no harm, no foul situation. But the lesson for me was that no matter how experienced we think we have become, assuming we have thought of everything can easily cause any number of accidents, and abseiling is one activity that is easy to get complacent about. Nowadays, my prusik is a physical reminder of my promise to myself not to get complacent. When I put it around the rope, it prompts me to check for backup knots at the bottom - even on routes where I can see the rope on the ground. It reminds me to check my carabiners are locked. It reminds me that preventable deaths happen while abseiling, and I value the reminder to prioritise and check my safety systems one more time. Every accident in rock climbing affects the whole climbing community; it makes the sport look unnecessarily dangerous. So to do my part to encourage fewer accidents, I now use a prusik to back up my ATC every single time. Not only does it keep me safe from myself, it positively influences anyone learning from me (even by watching) to prioritise their own safety and to check their backup systems - every single time.

Analysis and Prevention • Experienced climbers can and do make simple, easily preventable mistakes. • Complacency kills, so build and reinforce habits that will keep you in check. • Use a prusik to back up your abseils, or use an ABD (Assisted Braking Device, like a gri-gri). • Carefully consider how you attach slings and PAS devices to your harness, because not all of them are designed the same. And remove them regularly to prevent hidden wear. • Tie stopper knots when abseiling, even when you can see the end of the rope/s on the ground. • Be paranoid - because gravity is out to get you.

About the writer: AARON LOWNDES (he/him) | With two decades of climbing and hindsight under his belt, Aaron quit his accounting job in 2015 and started Melbourne Climbing School to teach recreational outdoor climbing skills in and around (funnily enough) Melbourne. He is an ACIA-certified Instructor Trainer/Assessor, which is the highest qualification achievable in that organisation. With a young family at home, he doesn’t get as much time to climb for himself as he would like to, however instructing is nearly as fun… and definitely more fun than accounting! If you don’t own a prusik loop, Aaron will happily give you one for free, in return for a promise to use it every time you abseil with a tube or other non-ABD device.

Check out our climbing gear!

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SPORT CLIMBING VICTORIA’S NEW HEAD COACH


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From elite, global climbing comps, to community initiatives that empower women and youth in the sport, Deryl Ng is nothing short of incredible. Deryl has recently become Sport Climbing Victoria’s new head coach and boy, are they lucky to have her! Deryl takes us on a journey through her career so far - the highs and the lows, and reminds us that the key to our own climbing journeys may just be a little bit more grit. I’ve always been an adventurous soul. I grew up loving the outdoors, high elements and all sports out of the norm. I played golf for 8 years because I loved the greenery and serenity, but by the time I had to choose a high school in Singapore, I was ready for a new sport. I specifically chose my high school because they offered rock climbing, a choice that would go on to change my life. Climbing is both a physical and mental puzzle, which is what grew my passion for the sport and got me hooked. Passion aside, the start of my climbing journey (13 years so far!) was not an easy one. During my teenage high school years, the training set by my teachers and coaches was so physically and mentally intense that I almost quit, even when I was made team captain. Despite the challenge I kept climbing and looking back, I’m thankful I was convinced to stick to it. It meant I built grit,and it’s this quality that has helped me become the climber and coach I am today.

Grit means to push through with courage and determination no matter the challenges you face. Moving to Melbourne to pursue my continuing education was exciting, but it also came with setbacks. The distance from Singapore meant that in 2018, my main climbing sponsor in Singapore decided to drop me. While I didn’t expect it, I found it gave me an odd sense of relief when I next went to the climbing gym. From the outside looking in, it’s easy to see the ‘glamour’ that people think comes with sponsorship. What they don’t see is the amount of stress and pressure athletes go through in the process. The constant pressure to perform either at official competitions, while ticking my hardest projects, or even just day-to-day climbing in the gym; pressure is pressure. Whether it’s external or internal, the stress is still real. I couldn’t believe how free I felt climbing once my sponsorship ended. I started to enjoy simply climbing for myself again. Since then I’ve been doing just that - climbing whenever life allows it, without the pressure. For me, this looks like heading outdoors to enjoy nature when I can; competing for fun when I feel like it; pushing my grades when I feel strong, and simply climbing for leisure when I do not - and I love it.

Though the climbing community in Singapore is small, it’s a close and tight-knit one. Every time I went to a climbing gym in Singapore, it felt like I was going home, with familiar faces all around. I thrived in such a supportive environment, and because of that, I qualified for the national team and took part in my first World Youth Climbing Championships in Singapore within my first two years. It was an unforgettable experience – I was the first climber out in the entire competition. I was on my home ground, with the competition taking place on giant climbing walls sticking out of the sand on the beach. This was the first of many international competitions for me, competing in all 3 disciplines of lead, speed and boulder. Then, four years in, I landed a sponsorship with the biggest climbing gym in Singapore, which saw me climbing and competing all around the world. I am so grateful to have had supportive parents, peers and coaches who helped shape my early days of climbing. I moved to Melbourne in 2017 to pursue my Masters in Physiotherapy. I have such a strong passion for movement, human interaction and helping people to get back to the things they love; so physiotherapy was the perfect choice. After a two year Covid gap, I’m glad to say that I’ll be an accredited physiotherapist by the end of this year.

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BUILDING GRIT DERY NG

Using my experience and expertise to keep giving back to the climbing community in different ways is something that continues to motivate me. I decided to start coaching 8 years ago when I found myself wanting to share the combination of climbing knowledge I had gained through years of competition and my overarching love for the sport and people. However, I didn’t intend to coach when I first moved to Melbourne. After taking on a few different opportunities in the sport I quickly realised there was an absence of teachings and values I was passionate about, so it was then that I decided to start coaching on my own. I felt there was a lack of climbing coaches focusing on proper techniques, movement and grit, so I felt compelled to start my own coaching company, Grit Climbing alongside another Singaporean coach (based in Sydney) Chew Wei Chieh. We shared the same ideals and principles, so we founded Grit Climbing together. At Grit Climbing, our coaching focuses on climbing technique, movement and most of all - grit. We ensure that the climbers we coach build solid fundamentals and foundations in the sport first. Then we work with them to form other valuable building blocks; strength, power and experience to name a few. Grit means to push through with courage and determination no matter the challenges you face. Both Chew and I relied on Grit in our early climbing careers and in our experience, this is what takes climbers further in their journeys. Our coaching has evolved over the years to take on more of a scientific approach as well, incorporating physiotherapy and sports science. Chew and I both coach climbers of all ages and levels, but we have a specific passion for coaching youth who climb competitively. By working with them to develop grit, they can climb to their best potential and it gives them an edge to clinch the podiums that they want. The best part? Through climbing, they grow to become people with grit. Many of them are now 64

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independent climbers, capable of self-analysis who freely share their love for the sport - it’s heartening to see. These days, my passion for people sees me coaching more than climbing. Combining my extensive experience in the sport and my knowledge of the human body, I enjoy providing my clients with holistic training and empowering them to achieve their goals. I am lucky enough to have had so much guidance and experience in the sport and to have been on the scene watching the exponential growth of climbing in the past decade; this is what motivates me to give back through coaching. Climbing itself is at a really exciting moment in its history. Our sport is changing at an exponential rate; a rate that requires people to evolve with the sport to stay relevant and to go above and beyond that just to stay ahead. There is so much more to competition climbing than just winning. The growth from the process of training; the opportunity to travel the world; to meet and learn from people from all walks of life - all have immeasurable benefits for those who choose to climb competitively. Using my experience and expertise to keep giving back to the climbing community in different ways is something that continues to motivate me. Inspiring young climbers to build healthy relationships with climbing and the community; while helping people from all backgrounds achieve their climbing goals, whatever they may be - will always be my priority. You can keep up with Deryl on Instagram @deryliciouss or check out the work she does with her athletes over at @grit.climbing www.gritclimbing.com.au


ISSUE 40 | VERTICALLIFEMAG.COM

WHAT IS ADVENTURE? For generations, adventure has been in our blood. It’s taken us to new heights and pushed us to new limits. But what is adventure? It’s in all of us but it’s different for everyone.

FIND YOURS AT MOUNTAINDESIGNS.COM

E S T. 1 9 7 5

B O R N O F T H E M O U N TA I N S



SPOTLIGHT: 2022 IFSC PARACLIMBING WORLD CUP ARAMINTA MCLENNAN & SARAH LARCOMBE

ARAMINTA MCLENNAN (MINTY) & SARAH LARCOMBE ARE BOTH TRAIL-BLAZING ATHLETES AND INCREDIBLE PEOPLE. WHEN IT COMES TO PAVING THE WAY FOR THE DEVELOPMENT OF PARACLIMBING HERE IN AUSTRALIA, ELEVATING THEIR COMMUNITIES, AND SHARING WHAT THEY KNOW WITH THOSE AROUND THEM - BOTH MINTY AND SARAH ARE NO STRANGERS TO MAKING AN IMPACT. WITH BOTH OF THEM REPPING THE GREEN & GOLD AT THE 2022 IFSC PARACLIMBING WORLD CUP EARLIER THIS YEAR AND SARAH TAKING OUT THE TOP SPOT, TWO OF OUR FAVOURITE ATHLETES GIVE US AN INSIGHTFUL LOOK AT THEIR EXPERIENCE ON THE WORLD STAGE.

IMAGE BY Christoph Zundel


SPOTLIGHT: 2022 IFSC PARACLIMBING WORLD CUP

ON INITIAL IMPRESSIONS, FEELINGS & THE WORLD CUP. Minty: It was terrifying but also fun and obviously a massive privilege. If you asked me three years ago what sort of competition I’d have a shot at representing Australia in, I’d have said something like: 1. Competitive ice cream consumption 2. Most strangers’ dogs pat in an hour 3. Rowing (if they took out the early starts) Instead I had the incredibly humbling experience of finding a sport, falling in love with it and riding that stoke wave all the way to the international stage. I couldn’t tell you exactly when climbing went from my favourite hobby to a competitive goal, but I can say that it’s almost certainly thanks to some gentle supportive heckles from a few key friends; and for that I am eternally grateful. Sarah: Competing at an IFSC World Cup for the first time is equal parts terrifying and exciting. On top of climbing routes like I’d never climbed before, I was travelling alone around the world to places I’d never been, and learning how to adapt and stay competition-fit while being outside my comfort zone – which was a huge learning curve. And even though I had dedicated so much time and energy to preparing for the World Cups, I didn’t actually know what I was getting myself into! Despite being one of the most challenging things I’ve ever done, it was also the most fun. And as a cherry on top, I earned myself one gold and two silver World Cup medals and became Australia’s first IFSC World Cup medallist. I still can’t believe it.

well out of my comfort zone helped me to realise that actually, maybe my own mindset had been the biggest hurdle to my own success all along, you know? Sarah: Every destination on the World Cup circuit had its own unique challenges. From missing luggage, rogue taxis, and spontaneous hailstorms, to overcoming nerves and dealing with injury and fatigue. By the end of the World Cup circuit, I was being held together by strapping tape and the promise of a steak dinner. My greatest challenge on this trip was probably the Innsbruck World Cup – which came with a fun combination of schedule mix ups, rain delays, a touch of self-sabotage, and the biggest and most intimidating competition climbing wall I had ever seen. I felt like Innsbruck was my chance to prove (mostly to myself) that my win in Salt Lake City wasn’t a fluke. After a less-thanstellar first qualifying climb on that big scary wall, I was worried I might not make it into the finals at all - and if I did, I’d have to get back on that wall! Luckily, I was given a chance to overcome that fear, by making the finals and that’s an experience I will never forget. Climbing that big wall in the darkness under a literal spotlight, with the music pumping and the crowd going wild – I was able to soak up all that atmosphere and turn my nerves into excitement.I smiled my way up the wall (until my try-hard face took over) and when I fell off, I was really happy and proud. I had fun, which meant the next time I came face to face with a big scary World Cup wall, it didn’t feel that scary at all. ON HIGHLIGHTS & LOGISTICS - MORE THAN JUST PERSONALISED VANS AND WRESTLING HEXAGONS

ON CHALLENGES, COMPETITION & BEING IN THE SPOTLIGHT Minty: For a first-time international competitor, Innsbruck is one of the most intimidating places you can be asked to challenge your imposter syndrome in. It screams high-performance-athlete, and I was still wrestling with calling myself an athlete let alone a ‘high performance’ one. Leading up to competition day I was the personification of anxiety. Strong support from my teammates, our coach Sophie and physio Katie, as well as a few new international friends, saw me go out there ready to give it my all. Climbing on that immense wall was one of the greatest highlights of my life, even if I fell off on the first third. I want to say that all my training paid off and I had a Rocky-esque affirming rise to the medals podium, but I didn’t, I came 8th. But it wasn’t last, I did get rid of my nerves, felt good about how I had climbed, and connected with para athletes from more than 20 different countries. With Innsbruck done and dusted, I was feeling a little more comfortable calling myself an athlete, and feeling like I deserved to be there. It’s funny how putting myself 68

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Minty: Honestly, Villars sur Ollon in Switzerland doesn’t even look real. It’s like you’re living in a Christmas movie, everything is illegally scenic wherever you look. A spectacular setting for the season finale. While we were there, the Swiss Alpine Association hosted us for a Paraclimbing Week which meant we got to train with other teams, attend seminars and spend more time getting to know our fellow athletes - which was awesome. A massive thank you to Team Swiss for everything they did including, driving us - the only team without a car - everywhere. One thing I learnt on the journey is the importance of resources. The more established your national federation is, the easier logistics will be for you (I’m looking at you, Jakob Schubert and your personalised van). Sarah: Every World Cup had its own highlights, but qualifying for the finals and then winning gold in Salt Lake City was one of the most special. It was my first World Cup, and I was going into it


ISSUE 40 | VERTICALLIFEMAG.COM

IMAGE BY Dimitris Tosidis, IFSC

without much competition experience. Just qualifying for finals was a huge thrill, and there would only be three climbers going into finals in my sport class – so I was guaranteed a podium spot! Apart from wrestling hexagons, my finals climb was a bit of a blur. I got to celebrate my win with my Australian teammates, and then I ate tacos and went line dancing with all the other paraclimbers. That was an amazing day. ON FUTURE COMP ROSTERS Minty: Looking forward, I see this adventure as an annual one, and I am so driven to climb better, place higher and kick some international goals. There is talk of climbing making it into the 2028

Paralympic offering, so you can bet I’ll be doing my best to be wearing that chunky AUS on my butt when it does. Sarah: The IFSC Para competition calendar for 2023 is the same as 2022, but with the added bonus of the World Championships in Bern, Switzerland – making our season about three months long! On top of training, I’ll be preparing for next year by saving all my money and begging my work for some extra annual leave. While I can’t wait to get overseas again, I’m looking forward to getting more local comps under my belt, and I’m excited to see more Australian climbing competitions adding para categories to their lineup! SPRING 2022

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SPOTLIGHT: 2022 IFSC PARACLIMBING WORLD CUP

REFLECTIONS & FINAL THOUGHTS Minty: Did I have an underdog medal winning story? Nope, but my second comp saw me place 7th instead of 8th, and that improvement is worth celebrating. Plus, I can say with absolutely no bias that I definitely had the most fun! The routes were fun, but challenging, and the opportunity to climb on routes that are set like nothing back home will be one of the biggest drivers that keeps me coming back to do this thing. Seeing the gyms and resources that more established European teams have available to them, means that I know what I have to work on for next time, and I have a lot of insights to share with the gyms back home in Australia. Sarah: Everything I achieved this year took so much hard work, determination, time, money, focus, support, and most of all – an absolute love of climbing. That’s what makes all the hard work worth it. My successes this season haven’t really made me a more confident climber. If anything, this experience highlighted a lot of my weaknesses – which is exactly what I needed. Now I know what I’m in for, and how to prepare - I’m more determined than ever.

GEAR FOR HERE

Jacques Beaudoin on his trad test piece Mother Earth (31) Gardens Of Stone Photo Ben Sanford

Scan me & good things will happen



GALLERY

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ISSUE 40 | VERTICALLIFEMAG.COM

Adhna Ní Bhraonáin (@adhnanib) outrunning the clouds on Thesaurus (21) on kunanyi/Mt Wellington’s Organ Pipes. Captured by Michael Blowers (@blowersm)

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GALLERY

Tiffany Dang (she/her) sussing out the moves for Pulling on the Porcelain (23), Yuin Country (Nowra) Photographer: Angi Kim (@Angi.kim)

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ISSUE 40 | VERTICALLIFEMAG.COM

Frothy Thompson working his project “Upriver (Without a paddle steamer)”, a newly developed route in Katoomba [ungraded]. Photographer: Jared Anderson (@_jaredanderson_)

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ASK THE PRO’S

ASK THE PRO’S: CRAG BAG EDITION WELCOME TO ‘ASK THE PROS’, A DECIDEDLY INFORMAL AND ENTERTAINING LOOK BEHIND THE CURTAIN OF AUSTRALIA’S TOP CLIMBERS. Climbing has started progressing to a point where names like Alex Honnold are almost synonymous with Leonardo Dicaprio…well maybe not Leo, but Jon Hamm at the very least. In turn, we often view our climbing heroes as larger-than-life figures who send their projects after only a few sessions, never get flappers, and never have to run off for a pre-send bush dump. It’s rare to catch a glimpse of their ‘real life, but we feel those glimpses can really help us mere-mortal understand and appreciate the process in a world where we only ever see an end product. As a climber it’s important to remember that everybody has high gravity days, everybody gets the occasional Elvis leg, and everybody’s left a banana peel in the bottom of their crag bag at some point - even the pros! In this issue, we ask the Pros: What’s in the bottom of your crag bag?

Ben Abel Morning of the Lead World Cup in Chamonix France, I was staying at a rather nice hotel with a buffet breakfast. I had my usual oatmeal and yoghurt for breakfast but decided to chuck some pastries and boiled eggs into my bag for lunch after the first qualification route. Of course, I snuck the food in wrapped in serviettes. After my first route, I reached into my bag only to discover those boiled eggs weren’t actually boiled. The French. Who puts out a bowl of eggs that aren’t cooked at a buffet breakfast? So naturally, my bag stunk for the rest of my Europe trip. That’s what I get for being grabbing lunch at a buffet breakfast.

Angie Scarth-Johnson Lets see, the worst I’ve pulled from my bag was probably tuna which I had put into one of my mum’s really nice containers. Me being the ‘extra’ person I am, the tuna tin wasn’t good enough. Anyways, I then forgot and went on a 3-4 months trip to Europe, came back and found the monstrosity. Now, I’m pretty sure It was tuna but I’m not 100% because it was truly unrecognisable. I didn’t try to save the container that day, no it was long gone. I’ve been responsible for the disappearance of almost all our containers, spoons and forks at home. (Sorry mum) Now I buy my own containers and my bags are always clean, apparently tuna container incidences are expensive to throw away. 76

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ISSUE 40 | VERTICALLIFEMAG.COM

Duncan Brown I’m a bit OCD and fastidious, so diving into my crag bag feels... organised. But maybe only to me, because it’s organised in a way that makes sense to me. A place for everything and everything in its place. That said, I’m a compulsive litter picker-uperer so I am forever finding other people’s litter that I collect while at the crag and stuff at the bottom so it can’t blow away again. The amount of times I have done a tidy up of my bag and found multiple muesli bar wrappers and other assorted junk that I don’t recall using myself; or half a dirty crumpled coke can; or cigarette butts when I don’t even smoke. Endless cigarette butts! So other than a carefully curated rack, its mainly just other folks litter!

Kamil Sustiak …It’s always an old banana

Pete Whittaker A brush, some old bits of tape, some old balled up bits of tape gloves and crack gloves. That’s probably not very useful for anybody is it [laughs] but that’s what’s at the bottom.

Campbell Harrison ‘What’s in my crag bag?’ - The more suitable question might be ‘what’s not in my crag bag?’ I’m notoriously forgetful, and I have a really bad habit of losing things! I’ve left gear behind at competitions, crags, the gym, on trains... basically anywhere that you could leave something important, I’ve probably done it. My trip to the crag, gym, or a comp begins with checking, double-checking, and then rechecking to make sure I’ve got everything that I need for the day. At some point I’ll inevitably stress out, thinking that I’ve left something behind, but I’m becoming a lot better at making sure it is in fact somewhere in my bag when I need it! One thing I absolutely can’t go without when climbing is a nice big water bottle. I sweat a lot, which means I need to drink a lot, so the bigger the better! Funny enough though, this is one item that I’m constantly losing.

Tom Randall Food wrappers, finger tape, and pretty much always a nut key or some random thing like that.

Got an irrelevant, but somewhat burning question you really want answered? Or a pro you’re desperate to get the goss from? Let us know at team@verticallifemag.com and we’ll reach out! SPRING 2022

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NEW GEAR BLACK DIAMOND CAPTAIN HELMET In the infamous words of the Wu-Tang Clan ‘ya best protect ya neck’ (or more importantly in this case, ya head); BD’s new Captain helmet does just that. Featuring a fusion of EPP and EPS it offers increased side and back protection without the bulk, all wrapped up in a bomber ABS shell for those who enjoy wading head first through choss. Weighing in at 295-325g it sits perfectly between the BD Half Dome and the BD Vision helmets, making for an excellent one-quiver helmet. Bonus: aside from just looking sleeker, the flexible EPP foam sides mean it actually fits sleeker too! RRP: $109.99 More at blackdiamondequipment.com.au

EDELRID HELIOS & HELIA In ancient greek mythology Helios was the god of the sun…but at Edlerid, Helios is the god of comfort. The Helios and Helia are Edlerid’s latest line of absurdly comfortable multi-pitch/ trad harnesses. Developed in collaboration with research institutions including the Technical University of Munich to achieve optimal load distribution, means that this harness basically has a degree in being comfortable. It features a new butterfly-shaped waistbelt (all float, no sting) with internal Dyneema webbing for better weight distribution and excellent packability. Paired with 4 ice clipper slots, the largest gear loops in Ederlid’s current range, and a removable hip pouch for your snacks… I mean for your first aid kit. In terms of fit, the Helios is aimed at climbers with an “O-shape” meaning, a similar circumference at the waist and hips. While the Helia is for climbers with an “A” shape, meaning a narrower, tapered waist in relation to the hips and thighs. Bonus: Did we mention it’s comfortable?

RRP: $239.95 More info at expeditionequipment.com.au

ARC’TERYX KONSEAL 15 BACKPACK The Konseal 15 is kind of like the Big Mac. While it may look like just another multipitch pack, there’s definitely some secret sauce under the hood. Aside from the usual stuff like taped zippers and removable waistbelts, the Konseal 15 features Arc’teryx’s new space age ‘Hadron’ fabric; made from an engineered liquid crystal polymer. What the hell does that mean? Well we’re not sure about the specifics, but to almost quote Pulp Fiction ‘It’s some seriously tough shit’. Hadron is super abrasion resistant; as in you might go second a granite squeeze chimney in it, abrasion resistant. It also happens to be mega light, so the bag weighs in at a near ghostly 310g - less than 2 iPhones! Bonus: it’s so light you can carry an extra iPhone Available at arcteryx.com.au

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ISSUE 40 | VERTICALLIFEMAG.COM

THE NORTH FACE COBRA 65 It’s very rare for a sequel to hold a candle to the original, and even rarer for the sequel to surpass it. I guess that makes the Cobra 65 a perfect pack for carrying hen’s teeth. The pack already loved for its technical alpine prowess is back - and it’s bigger, translucent-er, and somehow lighter than ever before. To start with, the pack is now made of a super tough 210D Spectra Ripstop material, which achieves the trifecta of being tough, lightweight, and cool to say! OG fans will be relieved to know the pack remains true to its roots with the familiar and highly functional crampon pocket, protective ice tool sheaths, and rope carry strap. With the addition of a less absorbent back panel, updated lid design, and more compression straps than you can poke a stick at! Bonus: The translucent material is super helpful for finding gear buried in your pack. RRP: $550.00 Info at thenorthface.com.au

SCARPA VAPOUR LACE Introducing Scarpa’s new Vapour lace - a shoe so supportive it could almost replace your therapist. This shoe is much more than just a lace-up version of the previous Vapour velcro; Scarpa has taken that shoe and transformed it into a technical edging machine! In fact, it’s almost quicker to just describe it as an entirely new shoe rather than listing the updates. The vapour lace features a stiff, full-length midsole, leather footbed, low profile toebox, and full-length XS Edge rubber outsole. What does that mean? It means these things will gobble hundred-meter cracks for breakfast and send dime-sized edges running for the hills! It also features Scarpa’s new ‘D2’ (dual density) rubber system at the front. This is basically a single sheet comprising of 2 different rubbers, stiff rubber framing the outside of the shoe for precision, and a softer rubber on top of the toes for your toe hooking pleasure. Bonus: The combination of a low profile toe with a soft toe patch makes for a thin crack dream team. RRP: $279.95 Find them at your local Scarpa stockist world.scarpa.com/storelocator

RHINO SKIN SOLUTIONS “Hang on, Rhino Skin isn’t new”, we here you say. “Yes, you’d be correct”, we respond with a sly smile… While most climbers are probably all too familiar with Rhino Repair and Performance, our friends over at Climbing Anchors are bringing the entire Rhino family down under which is where the ‘new’ comes in! You can now treat yourself with an ointment for every ailment, while you enjoy the Climbing Anchors candy they include with each order. Rhino has the stuff to hydrate your hands, dry your tips, massage your aches and salve your splits. They’ve even got something to keep the bugs away (the aptly dubbed ‘Skeeter Skatter’ which is nylon/Dyneema friendly)! Bonus: mix them all up and bathe in them for unstoppable sending power… (Warning: don’t actually do this) Get them all at climbinganchors.com.au SPRING 2022

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BETA & BREW

BETA:

As noted, this will deliver an ‘espressolike’ drink with a similarly punchy taste, but no crema (due to the lack of pressure). Attachments like the ‘Prismo’ or ‘Joepresso’ can help you build more pressure, but it will still not be true espresso…For that, you’ll have to stay tuned.

TASTES ACIDIC OR SOUR? » » » »

Grind finer Use a higher ratio such as 3.5-4.0 (more water or less coffee) Steep longer Use hotter water

TASTES BITTER/ASHY (OR DILUTE)? » »

Grind coarser If it’s also dilute or tastes ‘washed out’ use less water or more ground coffee

TOO STRONG? » »

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It’s supposed to be strong! Go drink some tea Dilute the finished drink with water (otherwise it will affect the recipe)


ISSUE 40 | VERTICALLIFEMAG.COM

BETA & BREW The ’Almost Espresso’ Aeropress Recipe Climbing is full of people with very specific tastes, don’t believe me? Just listen to John Sherman talk about sport climbing as one example of what I’m talking about. By the same token, coffee drinkers have very specific tastes - chief among them being the espresso fiends. I once heard such a person describe drinking espresso as “a delightful punch in the face” (perhaps the offwidth climbers can relate?). Anyway, it can be difficult to achieve this level of caffeinated masochism on climbing trips, and so occasionally we must compromise for ‘almost espresso’. On the bright side, a slap in the face compared to a punch ain’t a bad compromise…if you’re into that kind of thing. - Sule (VL’s Resident Coffee & Gear Nerd)

BEST FOR: »

Espresso Fiends

»

Conserving water

»

Offwidth climbers/Masochists

STEPS: 1.

This espresso recipe uses a ‘1 to 3.25’ ratio, so however much coffee you plan to use (say 18g) you should use 3.25 times more water (18g x 3.25= 58.5ml water). Note: if you’re using a light/filter roast coffee then you may need a higher ratio such as 1:4 or 1:5 (e.g 72-90ml for 18g)

YOU’LL NEED: »

»

Aeropress and 2 paper filters (or a metal filter for more ‘body’)

2.

(open side up) and throw in your ground coffee (eg.18g) 3.

Ye olde stirrin’ stick

»

50-65ml of hot water (adjust to recipe)

patches or clumps. Let sit for 30s 4.

Scale (exceedingly helpful unless you can visualise with 0.1 gram accuracy)

Twist on your cap with filters already in and flip onto your cup. If you’re unsure how to do this then google ‘inverting an Aeropress (lest you burn yourself like a gumby!)

5.

»

Pour in some slightly below boiling water (90°c) up to your recipe volume (eg. 58.5ml of water) and stir vigorously so there’s no dry

15-20g of good coffee (ground fine-ish, similar grain size as caster sugar)

»

Push the plunger halfway into the Aeropress, stand it up inverted

Once flipped, give your Aeropress a hefty swirl to knock any stuck grounds off the walls and start plunging in a strong but steady hand Note: When you’re done the coffee bed should look flat, if it’s dome-shaped then ya biffed it

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& BREW ABETAWORD FROM THE TEAM…

Subscribe to From bringing you the beta from the athletes you know, and introducing you to the unsung heroes you’ll love getting to know - Vertical Life was created by climbers, for climbers, and it has stayed that way for over a decade. Passionate about showcasing the breadth and depth of what makes Australian and New Zealand crags and climbers special - we’re proud to produce a magazine that will make you laugh, think, and climb a little differently. Subscribing is about more than just free delivery; more than your free gift; and more than never missing an issue. Subscribing stakes your claim as a member of our community, who cares about the impact of visual storytelling. Each subscription directly supports our contributors to climb hard, and in turn, it gets more quality content into your chalky hands. Subscribers support our editors in curating a mag that reflects the incredible breadth and depth of our ever-expanding community, and getting it printed locally on quality paper that does our incredible photographers justice.

Celebrate Australian and New Zealand climbing with a 1 year subscription: 4 Print Issues $40 AUD $80 NZD 4 digital Issues $29 AUD Support VL with a Subscription:


VAPOR

VERSATILITY ON THE EDGE.

VAPOR is designed to offer supportive edging with versatility aimed at more technical outdoor routes. Innovative technologies and materials make this shoe well-balanced, able to offer great performance in all climbing styles. To locate your nearest stockist I T: 1300 784 266 sales@outdooragencies.com.au I www.outdooragencies.com.au


Raian Best - Sushi Train, V8

climbinganchors.com.au Store locations in Alexandria NSW & Fitzroy VIC

BUTORA ACRO COMP High & Low Volume


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