Alex Honnold is a big-wall climber whose audacious free solos鈥攏o ropes, no partner鈥攐f America鈥檚 iconic rock faces have made him one of the most recognized and followed adventure athletes in the world. He is distinguished for his uncanny ability to control his fear while scaling cliffs of dizzying heights without anything to protect him if he falls.
Honnold鈥檚 achievements include the first free solos of 1,200-foot Moonlight Buttress in Utah鈥檚 Zion National Park and the 2,200-foot Northwest Face of Half Dome, in Yosemite. In 2012, he achieved Yosemite鈥檚 first so-called Triple Solo: climbing, in succession, the park鈥檚 three biggest 聽faces鈥擬ount Watkins, Half Dome, and El Capitan鈥攁lone in under 24 hours. In聽June, he and Tommy Caldwell became the聽first people to climb the Nose route on Yosemite鈥檚 El Capitan in under two hours. 聽
He is also the founder of the , an environmental non-profit. To this day, he maintains a simple dirtbag climber existence, living mostly out of his van and traveling the world in search of his next great vertical adventure.
During a long interview on , Honnold discussed his relationship to fear, risk, and other mental challenges in sports and life. Below is an excerpt of their conversation, edited by 国产吃瓜黑料.
When you are getting ready for a challenging climb, what does your self-talk sound like? Do you have any anything you ritualistically say to yourself before you get going?
No, I don't really. I don't self-talk like that. But normally if I鈥檓 planning on doing something challenging, I spend the time visualizing what the experience will feel like. With climbing, there鈥檚 a component of memorizing the actual moves. So I鈥檒l think through the sequences and make sure that I remember which foot to move in which order and like how to do everything. And then if I鈥檓 climbing ropeless, then I鈥檒l think through what it鈥檒l feel like to be in certain positions. Because some kinds of movements are just scarier. It鈥檚 important to to think through how that will all feel when I鈥檓 up there, so that when I鈥檓 doing it I won鈥檛 suddenly be like, Oh my God, this is really scary. I know that it鈥檚 supposed to be scary, I know what it鈥檚 going to feel like, and I just do it.
So do you climb hard routes in an absence of fear? Or is it something you have to overcome while climbing?
I generally climb hard routes in the absence of fear. Though it鈥檚 important to differentiate fear and risk. If there is a high level of risk, you should be feeling fear. It鈥檚 a warning that there is real danger. Typically if I鈥檓 feeling a lot of fear, then I wait and prepare more, do whatever it takes to mitigate that, and then do the climb when I feel comfortable.
Do you have a checklist you go through before a free-solo? Like, I have to do this X number of times and then do this Y number of times first?
I don鈥檛 have a checklist, but I definitely have a degree of comfort that I need to feel on the route before I鈥檓 willing to free-solo it.
What does that feel like?
I need to have a certain amount of reserve. I need to feel like I can climb the route in a variety of conditions and have some extra in the tank just in case. If I can climb the route only by the narrowest of razor thin margins, that鈥檚 not good enough for free-soloing.
As the first superstar of free-soloing, do you ever have concerns about the influence you could have on young climbers?
So, two things. One, I鈥檓 definitely not the first superstar, because there are a bunch of European climbers who are well known for free-soloing who came before me. And even in the U.S. somebody like John Bachar was well-known in the 1970s. I was a kid who was influenced by earlier free-solo climbers and I鈥檝e thought a bit about influencing kids and wondering if that鈥檚 a bad thing. Soloing is self-regulating in a way. Anybody can watch a video and think, I want to do that. But as soon as they climb 15 or 20 feet off the ground they start to have a very frank discussion with themselves, like, Do I really want to do this?
In general, you just don鈥檛 really see copycats like you see in gravity assisted sports or action sports. In kayaking or skiing or something, anybody can just stand at the top of the cliff and say, 鈥淚鈥檓 gonna hit this cliff and I鈥檓 going to stick it and it鈥檚 gonna be sick.鈥 Once they commit, they鈥檙e going of the cliff one way or another. But with climbing, each move you make is a decision that you鈥檙e going to continue upward. You have to decide over and over, I want to keep going, I want to keep going. And at a certain point you鈥檙e like, I don鈥檛 really want to keep going. I think I wanna go down. And then you鈥檙e just like, Mommy!
Are there lessons you鈥檝e learned or skills you鈥檝e developed in climbing that translate to other parts of your life?
From the actual climbing itself, the most useful thing I鈥檝e learned is how to differentiate risk and consequence and fear, and how to separate my feelings from what鈥檚 actually happening. When you're really hungry you鈥檙e not like, Oh God, I鈥檓 hungry, I鈥檓 hungry! You're just like, Oh, I鈥檒l eat lunch in two hours. Fear to some extent should be the same way. You can register, Oh, I鈥檓 feeling fear right now, but know that sometimes that doesn鈥檛 matter. Sometimes it does, and you need to watch out for that. But a lot of times, you should be able to set that fear aside and do exactly what you're supposed to be doing.
Do you ever see a point where you鈥檒l feel like you鈥檝e accomplished all that you can in climbing?
In climbing, compared to most other professional sports, you can have quite a long career because there鈥檚 always more you can do with trips and expeditions and first ascents. And there鈥檚 a really creative process to it. I come up with interesting challenges and things that nobody鈥檚 thought of before. There are professional climbers in their 50s that are still getting after it like that.
But I can definitely see a point where I wouldn鈥檛 continue pushing. There is always a 鈥渨hat鈥檚 next?鈥 in climbing. You can always try to improve in some way. I can see a point at which I鈥檓 like, OK, I鈥檓 satisfied, I鈥檝e done what I needed to do.