Climb Duai Gan, literally “climb together” in Thai, is more than your average climbing project. It’s a movement, led by local Ekalak “O” Hongliam, to bring sustainable climbing to Si Chomphu in Khon Kaen, Thailand. With the help of climbers from around the world, including Rab athletes Anna Hazlett and Tom Randall, his goal is to transform the region into a climbing destination that benefits the local community, and helps change the legal standing of climbing in Thailand.

The invitation came to Anna in the form of a message on Instagram. “It just felt like a really cool opportunity,” she says. “Tom and I were between projects, and I’d always loved Thailand. I had this opportunity to go there in college on a free ticket. It was my first time out of the US, aside from Mexico, and it ended up being a pivotal experience. Getting this message to go back felt like a full circle moment.” Tom, a long-time friend and climbing partner of Anna’s, was also intrigued, not by the promise of endless limestone cliffs, but by the purpose. “I get to climb around the world, but it’s not often you get to do something with an obvious benefit to the place you’re in,” he says. “If someone had said, do you want to go on a trip climbing to Thailand? It wouldn't have sounded interesting or unique enough, but this angle sounded really cool.” 

On arrival, it became clear that the access situation was far from simple. Although climbing is tolerated in some tourist-heavy areas and beach resorts, it’s technically not legal anywhere in the country. Over the last decade, climbers have been developing the bouldering and sport climbing in National Parks across the region, but despite years of collaboration with local National Park officers, it has been banned in some areas, often by head offices far off in Bangkok. “They didn’t understand that this is a way to enjoy nature, they thought it was dangerous,” explains Anna. “I guess they thought people are going to come here and they'll get hurt. It wasn’t very clear why they didn’t want climbing, they just decided they didn’t want it.” 

The team had to navigate meetings with park officials and local councils, often unsure whether the entire project might be shut down. But with the community behind them, progress was made. Officials at the Nam Phong National Park (where climbing was closed down several years ago) were invited to try climbing for themselves, and to meet with the people who really stood to benefit from this kind of tourism. With a continued dialogue and shared goal to boost the local economy while protecting the environment, visions were aligned, and a positive step towards better access and legal climbing in Thailand was made. 

Each day, the climbers would head out across the sugarcane fields on mopeds or in trucks, then bushwhack through the jungle, scouting for rock. “We’d find these random walls that hadn’t been developed before,” Tom explains. “We’d work out which lines were appropriate to climb and then we’d start bolting. Cleaning them, taking out any loose rock, cutting down trees… It's really just advanced gardening in a way. A giant DIY project on a rope and right at the end you do a little bit of climbing. Probably 90% hard work, 10% climbing!” 

The rock they found was worth the effort. The region is stacked with hard, sharp, compact limestone, dotted with small edges and pockets. “We were always thinking, what’s going to be a really nice line? What’s going to make this area shine?” remembers Anna. “Then we found this one route on this pink limestone with perfect bullet crimps. We named it Pretty in Pink, and we were so psyched on that.” Despite the heat, humidity, and hard physical labour, spirits were high. Each evening, the group would gather back at the shared camp, dusty and tired, trading stories about routes found and dreams of what the area could become. “It didn’t feel like work,” Anna says. “It was just being together with a bunch of climbers who are psyched.” 

The local village embraced the project with open arms, putting on traditional welcome ceremonies, sharing meals, and getting involved in the work. The climbing team itself spanned generations, from teenagers learning to bolt, to seasoned developers like Tom. “The dynamics were so wholesome,” Anna says. “We had this group of mid-20s climbers, parents looking after everyone, teenagers getting involved, and then the guys who knew what they were doing coordinating it all. All these generations coming together over a shared passion.” 

The experience, says Tom, was one of the most rewarding of his career, “There’s so much good that can be done in places like this if the right people come together for the right reasons. It doesn’t have to be complicated. It’s not a commercial problem, it’s an organisational one. If you can connect people to do something genuine, then making an impact can be quite straightforward.” 

That ethos carried through to the film making itself. Rather than hiring a Western crew, Anna took the lead, directing and editing the film, while she enlisted the help of local videographers. “It was comical how much footage we had,” she laughs. “We just filmed everything, but the real challenge was crafting a story that made sense, especially as plans kept changing.” The result is a film that captures not just the climbing, but the spirit of collaboration, and the hopeful momentum building in the region. Since the trip, more climbers have visited, a bouldering area in the Khon Kaen National Park reopened, and annual development trips have continued. As a trickle of tourists slowly turns into something more, Anna and Tom are optimistic about the future of climbing there.