Plus, Sean’s whistle, Sonnie’s book & more in “Routefinding” no. 4. ‌‌ ‌‌ ‌‌ ‌‌ ‌‌ ‌‌ ‌‌ ‌‌ ‌‌ ‌‌ ‌‌ ‌‌ ‌‌ ‌‌ ‌‌ ‌‌ ‌‌ ‌‌ ‌‌ ‌‌ ‌‌ ‌‌ ‌‌ ‌‌ ‌‌ ‌‌ ‌‌ ‌‌ ‌‌ ‌‌ ‌‌ ‌‌ ‌‌ ‌‌ ‌‌ ‌‌ ‌‌ ‌‌ ‌‌ ‌‌ ‌‌ ‌‌ ‌‌ ‌‌ ‌‌ ‌‌ ‌‌ ‌‌ ‌‌ ‌‌ ‌‌ ‌‌ ‌‌ ‌‌ ‌‌ ‌‌ ‌‌ ‌‌ ‌‌ ‌‌ ‌‌ ‌‌ ‌‌ ‌‌ ‌‌ ‌‌ ‌‌ ‌‌ ‌‌ ‌‌ ‌‌ ‌‌ ‌‌ ‌‌ ‌‌ ‌‌ ‌‌ ‌‌ ‌‌ ‌‌ ‌‌ ‌‌ ‌‌ ‌‌ ‌‌ ‌‌ ‌‌ ‌‌ ‌‌ ‌‌ ‌‌ ‌‌ ‌‌ ‌‌ ‌‌ ‌‌

THE OBJECTIVE
UNLOCKING OUR WILL TO SPEAK UP

I know we said we were going to focus more on our sport with this newsletter, but there’s so much going on right now, climbing has taken a backseat at the moment. First, the elephant in the room. Things are seriously messed up. The government is backing down on supporting public lands, and we’re seeing an increase in openly racist, sexist, narrow-minded and dysfunctional discourse in the news and on social media. I wondered how the Trump administration would affect the conservation work I’ve been involved in. A few weeks into this administration, it became clear that literally every issue I’ve worked on in recent years, from Bears Ears and the Arctic National Wildlife Refuge to Rambler Road and Oak Flat, is getting attacked. Then, Elon Musk announced the DOGE layoffs of thousands of public lands employees across all agencies. As I heard the personal stories of the people who were laid off, I became increasingly sad and angry. I tried to figure out what it all meant. Will they close down the parks? Is the administration paving a path toward resource extraction in national parks under the caveat of an energy emergency? We are exporting more oil and gas than we ever have. The extraction companies have a record profit. Energy emergency? What bullshit. At first, I didn’t really feel like fighting. The American people had spoken, my values lost and nobody cared. For a while, I felt alone, watching as most of the country seemed to be stepping in line or staying quiet.
One day, I saw the upside-down American flag—a symbol of distress—on El Capitan, the face that I love so much. The sight gave me goosebumps and made me feel a little less alone. I felt inspired but pondered why there wasn’t more of this. Then, protests started popping up at hundreds of locations. Thousands of people turned out—all in support of our national parks and public lands. A few weeks later, I interviewed Nate Vince, the now-famous Yosemite locksmith who initiated the flag-hanging on El Cap, in person at Patagonia HQ. He is such a rad dude. I loved hearing about the adventure of lugging a 75-pound flag to the top of El Cap, putting it in place during the midday updrafts, and attaching haul bags to the bottom corners to fight the wind. It is an insane story in itself. He went on the Jimmy Fallon show just before I interviewed him. When I asked him about it, he told me how crazy this all felt. “Nature Nate, going to the big city in his Toyota Sienna,” he laughed. He’s the perfect combination of a dirtbag and a humble government worker—a guy who just wanted a steady job with benefits, who loves Yosemite more than anywhere. But, he’s also got this intelligence and grit to him. That made me think he could, if he wanted to, be a leader of this moment of resistance. When we talked, Nate gave some context to his personal experience and explained how these firings might affect things in Yosemite this summer. He agreed that this whole exercise is likely to just be a giant waste of money and time. Take the locksmith, for example. What happens now when a lock gets jammed in Yosemite? The park will have to call someone to drive hours from Fresno. They also fired the HVAC guy. Now, the park will have to hire a private company when repairs are needed on park infrastructure. Plus, we still don’t know how the timed entry will fare this summer, and the park has delayed campground reservations. Overall, signs point to the visitor experiences in our national parks being a total junk show in the coming months. That much is for sure. So, where do we go from here? Yvon Chouinard likes to say, “The best cure for depression is action.” So, besides getting angry, maybe we’re going to have to pick up the slack. When taking on a big project in climbing, it can be easy to get overwhelmed and discouraged. But, instead of wallowing, I’ve found it’s important to celebrate the small breakthroughs in order to stay motivated. Facing the next four years of this administration will take a similar level of action and grit. If a locksmith and a handful of his climbing buddies can use their creativity and resources to start a movement, then why can’t everybody? It makes me proud that climbers are behind this flag movement, that climbers are using their skills and their platform (in this case, the famous face of El Cap) to stand up for what they believe in. Since I started drafting this newsletter, the courts determined that the NPS firings were unlawful and Nate and thousands of other NPS employees have gotten their jobs back. We know the political landscape will continue to change quickly—certainly quicker than this newsletter goes out. But whatever happens next, it’s all hands on deck. Climbers are going to have to continue to step up. Nate’s advice is to, “Show respect. Make sure to follow the rules, treat your visit more like a backcountry experience. Don’t expect the park service to have the resources we have come to rely on.” This means we might have to rescue each other, pick up trash and clean the bathrooms. Support organizations like the Yosemite Climbing Association, the Access Fund, or the American Alpine Club (every climber should be doing this anyway). Climbing is so often a selfish and self-serving pursuit, and maybe that’s OK. It gives us a chance to be ourselves and to bond with one another. But maybe this time, we can use it for something bigger. What our public lands need right now is mass numbers of people showing their love. Talk to your neighbors, call your senators, join peaceful demonstrations. Ask yourself what you uniquely have to contribute. Get creative and speak up. It’s already started working.

YOUR LEAD
THERE’S NO PRICE TAG ON PUBLIC LANDS

Many of these battles are ongoing and fluid. Here’s the latest. If you noticed our call to help folks affected by the wildfires in February down in Patagonia, thank you!! The organizers of that fundraiser saw a bump in donations, and every bit helps. These rangers were fired, then rehired in Joshua Tree. That said, the Supreme Court is letting Trump carry on with firing. Sign here to remind Congress that we want to keep our public lands open and operating. Let’s keep fighting. These grassroots groups are on the front lines. Here are their most urgent calls to action. Oak Flat is once again under threat.

THE TICK LIST > >
• | One thing we can all agree on is tribal-led management of our public lands.
• | Big month for drytooling—up to you whether that’s interesting ;)
• | All climbing is weird. This might be the weirdest. That said, it opens an interesting discussion about why and how we do the things we do.
• | Brooke Raboutou is a weapon!!
• | Barefoot, no tape. Per usual, Connor Herson is as core as it gets.
• | We love seeing all-female FAs deep in the backcountry.
• | Mountain appreciation from Nick Russell (not exactly climbing content, but still).
• | Human-powered linkups in the Alps.
• | On the complexities of rescue in Patagonia.
• | Brette Harrington’s new route in Sardinia looks amazing!

OFF ROUTE
LAUGHING ALL THE WAY TO THE ANCHOR

There are two types of adventure climbers: those who are fueled by darkness and those who are fueled by levity. The former—think Mark Twight—talk about their relationship to death. They accentuate the seriousness of climbing and have stern looks on their faces. I once thought those were the truly core climbers. But on my first trip to Patagonia, I saw another way. There was a group of climbers who laughed their way through their climbs. They’d still get caught in storms. They’d take big falls. Serious things would happen, but they always had smiles and found ways to laugh through their epics. Their ascents were equally as committed and badass as those fueled by darkness. They just looked at it differently. I noticed something similar when I started climbing with Alex Honnold; his self-deprecating humor was like a pressure-release valve. Through laughing, I was able to endure way more. I recently returned from a trip to Cochamó Valley with Sean Villanueva O’Driscoll. In 2010, when Sean and his partner Nico Favresse won the Piolet d’Or for a climb in Greenland, Colin Haley commented that if they brought instruments to play music on the wall, how could it be a serious climb? I thought about this comment a lot when I was climbing with Sean. We climbed on a route called Utopia, which I talked about in the last newsletter. Every pitch was wild. Overhanging cracks, full-body stems and double dynos for trees. Skittering around, run out, desperately clawing dirt out of the cracks and whittling in RPs. It was the kind of route that most modern climbers would spend months bolting and cleaning. Sean’s style was to just climb it the way it was.

Any other partner—with the exception of Alex—would’ve been grim-faced and fearing for their life. Sean, on the other hand, would pull out his tin whistle and play Irish jigs, Star Wars scores and traditional Patagonian folk songs. Whenever he did, my anxiety dissolved, floating away with the notes into the wind. I came to realize that the music was not only fun, but it was critical for staying calm and creating a vibe where we could manage the tension of this death-defying experience. This climb was as scary as anything I’ve ever tried. Sean climbed it with such heart, levity and joy; it was truly impressive. I’m sure there will always be climbers who find ways to excel fueled by darkness, but to me, the most impressive climbers are putting up the most badass routes and laughing their way through. And Sean is the master.

RECOMMENDED READING
UPLIFTED: A NEW BOOK BY SONNIE TROTTER

Sonnie Trotter and I have been frequent climbing partners since we were teenagers. We’re nearly the same age, had kids around the same time and share an interest in similar types of climbing. Even if you didn’t grow up climbing with Sonnie, reading his new book, Uplifted: The Evolution of a Climbing Life, feels like reconnecting with an old friend—reminiscing about the past and catching up on what I’d missed. It’s a compilation of short stories, each one highly entertaining and tinged with a positive hue. His climbing style seems spontaneous, yet somehow, he (almost) always pulls it off. Here’s an example. One of the biggest climbing days of my life was free-climbing two routes on El Cap in a single day. It required months of preparation, a 1 a.m. start and nearly 24 hours of continuous climbing. I had to be focused and diligent. Sonnie does things differently. Somewhat inspired by my success on El Cap, Sonnie asked if I wanted to attempt the Squamish equivalent—three hard free routes on the Chief in a day. It sounded right up my alley, so I drove to Squamish. When I arrived, Sonnie suggested we jump right in. The plan was to start at 6 a.m. the next day. That seemed late to me, but hey, Sonnie was in charge and knew Squamish better than I did. I made sure to be packed and ready by 6. At 7:30, I still hadn’t heard from him and started to worry. At 8, he finally arrived. Without mentioning why he was late, we set off. We climbed the first route, a 10-pitch 13a called The Shadow, in just a few hours. On the hike down, Sonnie suddenly remembered he had an appointment to drop his car off for repairs. So, after hiking down, we shuttled his car to the garage. Then we tackled the second route, a 10-pitch 12+ called The Grand Wall—also in just a few hours. This time, on the hike down, Sonnie announced he had a craving for fast food. So we went back into town and got burgers and milkshakes. That fast food must have had some serious salt because, on the third route, an 11+ called Freeway, our mouths got so dry we could barely swallow. I remember trying to lick blades of grass for moisture. Night fell halfway up the route. We had opted not to bring headlamps. So, navigating by the dim glow of my Nokia flip phone, we finished the climb. On the hike out, the phone battery died, and we spent several hours crawling down the trail in total darkness. Sonnie’s book is full of entertaining stories like this. One of my favorite aspects was Sonnie’s deep admiration for his climbing partners and family. I’ve always thought great writing comes from digging into the darkest corners of ourselves and that optimal performance requires at least a little angst-fueled drive. But the aptly named Uplifted made me question that. This book is a joyride of positivity, nostalgia and love. Maybe that’s exactly what the world needs right now.

THE LATEST FROM PATAGONIA CLIMB

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| Have something to add? Just want to tell us we’re doing a great job? ;) We’d love to hear from you. Send your feedback, ideas and anything else (within reason!) to routefinding@patagonia.com. And if you have a friend you think would enjoy this newsletter, forward this one to them and make sure they sign up here to receive future sends. |

Photos: (Top) Tommy Caldwell works the crux pitch of the Dawn Wall, a 5.14d traverse 15 pitches off the deck. JEFF JOHNSON (Middle) Peacefully protesting in Yosemite National Park. NATE VINCE (Middle) Tommy Caldwell and Sean Villanueva O’Driscoll relax between pitches. Cochamó, Chile. AUSTIN SIADAK (Middle) After battling through the thin and delicate crux section of Pineapple Express (5.13b) Sonnie Trotter continues climbing higher up the exposed face with tired arms on crisp edges. Southern Sierra Miwok ancestral lands, California. AUSTIN SIADAK (Bottom) Pete Whittaker takes a bat-hang rest just before the crux of his 330-foot route Crown Royale (9a/5.14d). Jøssingfjord, Rogaland, Norway. ANDREW BURR

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