Boris Langenstein travels to Nepal, with his climbing partner Thiphaine to ski a 300m line sweeping down from the summit of Dhaulagiri II. Read their story of trials and challenges as they attempt to reach the summit of this impressive 7000m peak.
I could not help the feeling that something was missing. I had jumped off big cliffs, been chased by scary avalanches, tomahawked down faces, and ridden as fast as I could down narrow couloirs. In the back of my mind however, I had always been drawn towards Jiehkkevarri.
You never quite know what to expect, that’s part of the fun! We spent the better part of a year planning and preparing for the big trip to Greenland. Jacob researched the ares extensively and compiled a PDF guide book of every route established (which was not many!) that he could find.
I’ve spent years climbing and hiking in the Atlas Mountains and walking by the north face on Tazarhart (3450 m).
Its hulking face adorned with sharp rocks, thin ice, with five sharp couloirs reaching up to the ridge, running to 550m. The face fascinated me, and my curiosity piqued. Yet I knew this is beyond my level. Feeling I needed to keep my climbing ambition realistic, I tried to forget about this climb.
Leading a team to an 8000m summit demands impeccable organisation, unwavering commitment, and an affinity for the otherworldly landscapes of the loftiest mountains. Jon Gupta shares his guiding experience on the world’s third highest peak.
Chris Fisher is no stranger to hard, back-breaking endurance events on foot. After quitting during ‘Hell Week’, an infamous final component of Navy Seals training, Chris was left with regret. Shorty after an early attempt on the Mosquito-Tenmile traverse in Frisco, CO., Chris set his sights on his next big send in the Wasatch Mountains of Utah.
I can’t tell you how many times local climbers have twisted their faces at me, wondering how it is that I’ve ended up in the UK.
So, what in the world is this California girl doing here, of all places?
Angus Kille, Calum Muskett and Jon Gupta set off on an esoteric Matterhorn route , with all the ingredients of the proper adventure; fatigue, doubt, risk, mistakes and of course Jon’s self-proclaimed good looks and banter.
In December 2021, Canadian climbers Bronwyn Hodgins and Kelsey Watts made the first female ascent of El Gavilan (300m, 13a) in Mexico. This was the final step in Bronwyn’s multi-season effort to re-bolt the original 1990s Jeff Jackson line, making the route safe and accessible for future climbers.
Carved by ice, wind, and waves, the Summer Isles are a small archipelago off the northwest Scottish coast. For kayak leader Will Copestake, they offer solo adventure and solace during a busy summer season.
Climbing as many vertical feet as one can throughout a single month is not a normal challenge.
I went out during the Cirque Series Max Vert October with the intention of climbing over 400,000 ft and breaking a world record.
Being bold is about putting yourself out there, challenging your beliefs, and working through the problem. After the competition season ended early, Jenya takes a trip to Fontainbleu to find her next challenge.
It was a usual winters night in the van. I struggled to sleep with the anticipation of the early alarm weighing heavy on my mind and the stormy weather pounding the skylight just a couple of feet above my face.
Angela, Bronywn and Sav head to Zion, the place where Angela had spent so much time with her partner. What would she find there, in between all those ponderosa pines? Would the beauty she’d experienced all those years ago still be there?
Coming out of a long winter of lockdown restrictions in Wales, it seemed apt that our project for this trip was called ‘One Hundred Years of Solitude’, an E8 on the remote cliff of Càrn Mòr in the north-west Highlands.
It’s 6am when the alarm starts to ring in the van. It’s still dark outside. The crisp, fresh air starkly contrasting the comfort inside our warm sleeping bags. Cristina reaches for her phone and turns the alarm off, wishing she had had a few more hours to sleep.
It was the start of January 2019. The world had no idea what was about to hit it. It was only weeks later that the World Health Organization would declare the outbreak as a global health emergency, and a few months later that the virus would hit the Americas. All eight of us sat on the big bed, gossiping about boys, relationships, menstrual cycles, tinder dates… the whole deal. We took turns sharing stories while the rest listened curiously, giggling like little girls at a sleepover. This was nothing like any climbing trip I’d ever been on.
In October of 2020, my friends and I were looking for new places to visit to celebrate that we could travel again after the first COVID-19 lockdown in Spain. We had been climbing a lot around Barcelona but we felt like it was time to organize a bigger trip.
I don't remember if I read it in a book or saw it in a movie, but it has always fascinated me that a trip doesn't start when you get your packs ready, but when you dream it for the first time. In my case, the trip to Madagascar began in 2007 after the radical opening of the route “Hijos de la Pedri” in Tsaranoro valley by my inspiring friends Talo and Palan Martin.
Patience is a virtue, or so I’m told. In the high mountains I’m normally on the move constantly and it seems unusual to be stood still, waiting for the perfect moment. The fabric on my paraglider is still rustling as a katabatic wind blows gently down the glacier trying to dislodge the light fabric from its delicate perch on the frozen snow slope.
This summer Jacob, Thor, Zack and myself spent six weeks on Baffin Island, in the far northeast corner of Canada and about 200 miles across the Bay from Greenland. While out there we managed to climb some big mountain faces - some new lines and some old - and accessed these mountains by paddling the ocean fjord and glacier-fed river in packrafts. How do I sum up six weeks of adventure in an article? I’ve put together a series of moments to share:
The Cuillin Ridge on the Isle of Skye strikes fear into the hearts of many would-be Munroists, and I was certainly amongst them. The infamous Inaccessible Pinnacle (the ‘Inn Pin’) is the only Munro which requires the use of a rope and, although not a particularly challenging rock climb per se, it is certainly outside the comfort zone of ma
There is an old Chinese proverb which says that a journey of 1,000 miles begins with a single step. This became something that I thought about many times over the summer as I undertook Project 282: almost four months spent climbing all of Scotland’s Munros, in one go; unsupported and self-propelled.