It鈥檚 2 p.m. on November 4, 2020, in Yosemite National Park, and the afternoon sun is blasting the south-颅facing Golden Gate route on El Capitan. Emily Harrington is a little more than 12 hours into her fourth attempt to free-climb the 3,200-foot-tall granite behemoth in under 24 hours.

Heat radiates off the wall, but , 34, is confident and mov颅ing well. She鈥檚 at the base of a pitch called Golden Desert, a stretch of slick rock with a thin crack. A few minutes ago she took an unexpected fall when her foot slipped, but she鈥檚 anxious to get to the next pitch, the A5 Traverse鈥攈er prior high point. Despite already ascending 2,900 feet, she isn鈥檛 that tired, so she decides to try again.

Graded 5.13a, Golden Desert is one of the most difficult sections of the route. There are no dimples or edges in the rock to put her toes on. Climbing it involves a tenuous balance of keeping her feet high enough to maintain friction but low enough to push upward. After cruising through the section she had just fallen on, she gets to a roof where she must traverse left. The heat forces her to grip harder than she normally would, and fatigue is setting in. To conserve energy, she skips clipping a piece of gear. Suddenly she slips, and the world goes black.

When she realizes what happened, she鈥檚 hanging on the rope just above the belay ledge, blood pouring down her face and into her eyes. She鈥檇 come sideways off the wall and hit her head on a protrusion in the rock, which gouged a quarter-size hole into the left side of her forehead. The failures from her previous El Cap attempts come rushing back鈥攇iving up a few hundred feet from the top in November 2019, and later that month, a massive fall that required a rescue and left her bloodied, bruised, and concussed. Instantly, she feels tired and afraid. She 诲辞别蝉苍鈥檛 want to climb anymore.

鈥淚 think you鈥檝e got more try in you,鈥� says , Harrington鈥檚 fianc茅, who is her belayer and moral support for the top portion of the route. (Her friend Alex Honnold belayed her for the first two-thirds.) With tears running down her face and blood drying on her forehead, Harrington eats a handful of nuts. Ballinger attempts to lift her spirits. 鈥淵ou know I鈥檇 tell you if I didn鈥檛,鈥� he says.

鈥淚 can try,鈥� Harrington mumbles. Yosemite Valley is quieter than usual, and her words hang in the air. With the country still in the midst of the coronavirus pandemic, the park is practically empty, and Harrington鈥檚 team, which includes a small film crew documenting the attempt, are some of the only people on the wall.

She knows how easy it would be to give up. But this is why she chose this goal, to test herself when it got hard.

After resting and waiting for shade to hit the wall, she starts to climb, focusing on what鈥檚 in front of her and nothing else. She enters what she鈥檒l later characterize as a flow state, an experience she鈥檇 never had before. She executes moves flawlessly, and from that point on the climb is magical. She sends the A5 Traverse on her first try, then the following five pitches, reaching the top of El Cap in 21 hours 13 minutes 51 seconds. With that she becomes the fourth woman to free-climb El Cap in less than 24 hours鈥攁nd the first woman ever to do it via the Golden Gate route.

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On August 3, 2016, the International Olympic Committee as a medal sport in the 2020 Summer Olympics. Exactly five years, dozens of qualifying competitions, and one global pandemic later, 20 men and 20 women from around the world will compete for gold at the Aomi Urban Sports Park in Tokyo. Starting on August 3, 2021, the competition will last four days, alternating between men鈥檚 and women鈥檚 events each day. Below is a short primer on climbing鈥檚 Olympic debut.

How Will the Competition Work?

There will be two rounds for men and women: qualifiers and finals. On Tuesday, August 3, 20 men will compete in qualifiers, which includes speed climbing, bouldering, and lead climbing (in that order, with rest periods between disciplines). From that round, eight men will move on to finals, held on August 5. Twenty women will compete in a qualifying round on Wednesday, August 4, with all three disciplines performed in one day. The top eight female competitors will move on to a final round on August 6. Due to COVID-19, organizers decided to , so there will be no live crowds at the events. The Olympics will be broadcast on NBC, but with all competitions happening on Japanese time, check our watch guide for air times. (Keep in mind that the official title in all Olympics-related material is 鈥淪port Climbing,鈥� so if you see that on television or news listings, that鈥檚 a reference to the entire climbing event.)

What鈥檚 the Difference Between the Three disciplines: Speed Climbing, Bouldering, and Lead Climbing?

In most climbing competitions, each of the three disciplines is a separate event. A climber could compete in one, two, or all three based on their preference. A winner is deemed for each category, and their performance in one discipline has no effect on their ranking in another discipline. However, the Olympics is a combined format, which takes the athlete鈥檚 cumulative performance in all three (more on that later). Below is an explanation of the disciplines and how rankings are determined within each.

• Speed climbing will be on a standardized 15-meter route that uses the same holds and layout every time, so climbers can practice year-round on the exact route they will compete on. It鈥檚 done with a rope, and the goal is to get from the bottom to the top as quickly as possible. This portion will be a bracket-style tournament, where two climbers compete head-to-head to advance to the next round until a winner is determined. One interesting rule for the Olympic event is that a false start (leaving the ground before the start buzzer) will result in instant disqualification, which could create some upsets in the field.
• Bouldering will be on a 4.5-meter wall with a series of boulder problems, four in qualifiers and three in finals. Climbing without a rope, the competitor will have four minutes to complete one problem, then get a short period of rest before moving on to the next problem. The climber can make multiple attempts during the four-minute time limit, and the climbers have never seen these problems before. The holds, wall angle, and movements will be different for each boulder, focusing on technical sequences and gymnastic, parkour-style movements. Points will be given for reaching the top of each boulder and matching the finish hold with both hands while maintaining control. If the climber 诲辞别蝉苍鈥檛 reach the top, points will be given for reaching the marked 鈥渮one鈥� hold approximately halfway up. Each climber鈥檚 score will read like this: 2T 2Z, meaning she reached two top holds and two zone holds. If there are ties after the scores are determined, the number of attempts for each top hold or number of attempts for each zone hold will be factored in, with fewer attempts resulting in a higher ranking.
• Lead climbing will be done on a 15-meter wall with one unique route, so the climbers have no prior knowledge of it. They will be allowed a six-minute preview session, where all the climbers get to see the route before competition starts. The lead discipline utilizes a rope and requires the climber to figure out technical movement sequences and have the endurance to stay on the wall for longer periods of time. With a total of 40 to 60 holds, each hold is worth one point, and the climbers will only have one attempt. If they fall, their turn is over. The highest score will be ranked #1, second-highest score is #2, and so on. A tie, or two climbers with the same number of points, will be broken by giving the better ranking to the person who climbed to the same hold faster.

How Does the Combined Format Work?

With the IOC only giving climbing one set of medals per gender, the International Federation of Sport Climbing (IFSC), the governing body for international climbing competition, decided to combine the disciplines to include more athletes and countries. The Olympics鈥� combined format requires each climber to participate in all three disciplines at once: speed, bouldering, and lead. The climber will receive a ranking for each, then those will be multiplied together to determine a final number, and the lowest overall score wins gold. For example, if a climber places 1st in bouldering, 4th in lead, 18th in speed, the score would be 1 x 4 x 18 = 72.

The climbing community initially criticized this format because speed climbing is physically much different than bouldering and lead climbing, and it requires specialized training. Many speed climbers do not fare as well in lead and bouldering, and many top bouldering and lead competitors don鈥檛 do well in speed. A fair comparison might be requiring a track athlete to run a marathon and a 100-meter sprint as one event. Climbing has already been confirmed as a part of the 2024 Summer Olympics in Paris, and for that event, two sets of medals will be awarded per gender: one for speed climbing and one for lead climbing/bouldering.

Who Are the North American Climbers?

Each country was allotted a maximum of four spots, two women and two men. Unlike many other Olympic sports, no countries were guaranteed a spot, except for the host country of Japan, which was promised one slot for each gender. From the U.S., Kyra Condie and Brooke Raboutou will represent the women, and Nathaniel Coleman and Colin Duffy will represent the men. For our neighbors to the north, Alannah Yip and Sean McColl will represent Canada.

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A two-week canoe trip in northern Minnesota changed the trajectory of Natalie Warren鈥檚 life when she was 15 years old. From that pivotal point onward, she bucked the norm of her urban Miami upbringing to chase a life outdoors. More than听two decades later, Warren, 32, is听recognized as one of the most accomplished adventure paddlers in the U.S.听She鈥檚 canoed 2,000 miles from Minneapolis to Hudson Bay, paddled the entire length of the Mississippi River, carried out 30-听and 50-day river expeditions in Canada, and paddled 450 miles in 53 hours to win first place in the Yukon River Quest. As a new mother, a听Ph.D.听student of environmental communication at the University of Minnesota,听the founder of Wild River Academy, a nonprofit that teaches urban youth about rivers, and the author of the adventure memoir , Warren is spreading the gospel of outdoor adventure for teenage girls who feel like they don鈥檛 fit in.听

In 2005, Warren was burned out by daily three-hour saxophone practices and other rigors of attending an arts high school when a friend suggested YMCA Camp Menogyn, near Grand Marais, Minnesota. Despite having no听prior relationship to the outdoors, after her听first river trip with the camp, in which she spent听every day paddling and every night sleeping outside, she was听hooked on outdoor adventure. At that听formative time in her life, she had finally emerged from what she calls the 鈥渂lur of living in a large urban area that had a certain ideology and tastes for material things that I听never identified with.鈥� Living outdoors, moving slowly, observing everything around her with time to digest it, connecting with her boat partner鈥攖hese aspects of canoe life helped shape听Warren鈥檚 perceptions of the world.

She found her people, her place, and her own voice in the outdoors and on the water, which eventually provided the backdrop for the rest of her life. Now Warren鈥檚 goal is to encourage teenage girls to think critically about what they actually want in life鈥攁nd how scheming adventures can help them get it. Here are four pieces of advice for teen girls ready to embrace adventure.

Fight for What You Want

鈥淲e鈥檙e constantly told all of these milestones that we鈥檙e supposed to have,鈥� Warren says. 鈥淎 lot of us sit back and we鈥檙e like, That鈥檚 not what we want.听How do we fit into a culture that鈥檚 telling us what we鈥檙e supposed to be doing when we鈥檙e not even sure that will make us feel fulfilled? You鈥檙e told听you can鈥檛 ever hop off the tracks听because you can make one decision that will derail your potential for future marriage, job, kids, success, and retirement.鈥澨�

鈥淚 really fought for what I felt like I needed,鈥� she says. 鈥淔or me听it was following a feeling of what I was supposed to be doing at the time. I couldn鈥檛 rationalize it. The surge of emotion when we鈥檙e teenagers or early twenties can be a really, really powerful force in directing us where we want to go.鈥�

Forge Your Own Path

鈥淚nstead of getting an unpaid internship in the summer after听college, I canoed for three months. I thought that would literally ruin my career, because an internship听is what I was told I needed to do to be successful. I want teenage girls to think more critically about the messages that they鈥檙e receiving, whether they鈥檙e subtle or obvious, to be able to say, 鈥業 can do something different.鈥� Start to think, like, Oh, land is connected. I wonder if I could walk across the country? Water is connected. I wonder if I can sail across the ocean?鈥�

鈥淲ilderness trips, and canoe trips in particular, are about听getting into a flow of everybody working together,鈥� she says. 鈥淲e all need each other. We all serve different roles. We鈥檙e trying to get from point A to point B. What are we going to eat? What is the weather like? And how do we solve problems together? That just strips away all of the added pressures and layers of what we鈥檙e supposed to look like, how we鈥檙e supposed to respond to certain things.鈥�

Have the Courage to Take a Big Trip

鈥淚t鈥檚 important to听explore all the different pathways in life,鈥� Warren says. 鈥淚 stand out so much more because I lived in a canoe for six months. It provides fodder for interviews. It鈥檚 group work. It鈥檚 not a hole in your r茅sum茅听at all. It鈥檚 actually something that could make you stand out and could become your career in many ways. Without feeling like we鈥檙e safe to take those risks, we often forego the possibilities that those trips can provide for us.鈥澨�

Find Your Place in the Outdoors听

鈥淲hat I found in that first trip especially was that I felt really confident in the outdoors. I sort of discovered what made me feel the most me when I was at that age, when high school was traumatic. I had a lot of teen angst, and when I was in the outdoors, when I was paddling a canoe, when I was living in the wilderness, I felt a sense of peace and belonging that I had just never found in the city,鈥� Warren says.

鈥淚 have already introduced my daughter听to just being outdoors and being by water, telling her stories and reading books about women doing adventures,鈥� she says. 鈥淚鈥檇 really love to be able to support her in taking those risks, especially at a young age, without feeling like if she stepped off the track, she would lose her future. When we step off the track, we get on another track that can be so much better.鈥�

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We spend a lot of time testing the newest gear every year, but often know very little about the people behind it. So, we sent a handful of our writers out to talk to them. Julie Ellison听spoke with Heinz Mariacher, the climbing shoe category manager at Scarpa. The brand produced our Buyer鈥檚 Guide testers鈥櫶齠avorite new climbing shoe of 2020,听the Veloce, a comfortable training model that鈥檚 technical enough to appeal to all users. Here鈥檚 what Mariacher had to say about the past and present of climbing shoes听and how he likes to approach the design process.

Know Your Roots

In the early eighties, we had one climbing shoe: the EB. It was extremely painful, and you had to wear it really small to get it to work well. The big challenge was to make shoes that would be less painful and still precise. That鈥檚 where I started.

Trust the Process

The most interesting part is the first time you go out with the prototype and test it on the rock. There have been models where I鈥檝e made 50 prototypes before it works. On the other hand, many times the first prototype looks bad but works well. Then you want to make it better, and you actually make it worse.

Lean on Experience

I鈥檝e always insisted on being the developer and the tester, so I鈥檇 directly feel if a proto颅type worked or if it didn鈥檛. Everybody has a different opinion, because everybody has a different foot shape. It鈥檚 very hard to put all those opinions together and come up with solutions. When you can feel a shoe yourself, it鈥檚 much easier.

Keep Evolving

As indoor climbing has grown, shoe design has changed a lot. Precision and sensitivity on small footholds used to matter. Now it seems that nobody cares about that. People only care about heel hooking and toe hooking. But it can be fun to create really nice shoes for the gym. It鈥檚 a new challenge.

Check out Scarpa鈥檚 Veloce climbing shoes.

The post Climbing Is Evolving, So Heinz Mariacher Is Too appeared first on 国产吃瓜黑料 Online.

[Editors鈥� Note: If you are having suicidal thoughts, please contact the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline: 1-800-273-8255 (TALK).]

Nathan Smith has it all planned out. On June 15, 2017, the 41-year-old climber will pull out of the driveway in Salt Lake City and head 25 minutes to a trailhead in Little Cottonwood Canyon. From there it鈥檒l be an easy approach to the South Ridge of Mount Superior, a 2,800-foot scramble with Class 4 and some Class 5 climbing. Most locals do the route in a few hours before or after work, so there鈥檚 little chance of running into anyone midday on a Thursday. Wearing a T-shirt, shorts, and an ultrarunning hipbelt, Smith will climb until reaching the knife-blade ridge, with its treacherous loose rock and exposed no-fall zones on either side. The South Ridge is considered an easy climb, but a memorial plaque in this spot serves as a reminder that even competent climbers can slip. If someone were to fall here, no one would suspect a thing. And it has to look like an accident鈥攋ust another tragic but faultless climbing death.

It might take a day, Smith figures, before anyone finds the body. While the area is popular, it鈥檚 a confusing maze of fractured rock in every direction. Maybe search and rescue will notice the late-model Subaru abandoned in the parking area. Or maybe Smith鈥檚 wife, Cheri, who is away for a month on a well-earned girls鈥� trip to Europe, will call the police after not hearing from her spouse for a few days. None of the 鈥渁fter鈥� details matter.

Depression has taken hold before, but lately the fear and sadness fill every waking second. It鈥檚 like a game Smith used to play as a child, lying down in a blanket and rolling up like a burrito. Except now the blanket gets tighter and thicker every day, to the point where it鈥檚 impossible to breathe or think. Maybe, Smith thinks, it would be better for everyone if Nathan just disappeared.

But that鈥檚 tomorrow. Today, Smith sits at home working, with two large monitors on the desk and stacks of papers all around. Hundreds of climbing guidebooks, a few of which bear a Nathan Smith byline, along with antique climbing gear, pitons, ice axes, and old carabiners, line the bookshelves. On the wall is a large custom poster, a triptych of photos showing a younger Smith climbing Boris Badenov (5.12a), a sport route Smith established in 2012 in the East Canyon 20 minutes above Salt Lake; Smith on another first ascent, this one a backcountry ice route; and a shot of Cheri leading an ice climb.

It鈥檚 all tangible evidence of a life filled with accomplishment: a great career, a wonderful marriage, countless achievements. For nearly two decades, Nathan Smith has been a familiar name in climbing photography, establishing more than 150 roped first ascents on rock and ice throughout Utah, Idaho, and Wyoming, and traveling from Mongolia to Madagascar. Smith has shot magazine covers, been published regularly in Climbing, Rock and Ice, and Alpinist, and written five guidebooks. About a month before, Smith quit working as marketing manager at the gear distributor Liberty Mountain to concentrate full time on the freelance venture Pull Media, which offers everything from photography and illustration to packaging and product design.

But it seems, increasingly, like it鈥檚 all been a lie. The person known for those photos and bylines and first ascents is not the same person on the inside. That person isn鈥檛 called Nathan at all. Her name is Nikki.

Scrolling through Facebook, she thinks back to a trip she took to Denver two weeks earlier. She was there for an American Alpine Club meeting, but in her free time she got a makeover at Sephora, the cosmetics store. It was scary but exhilarating. The employees opened early, showed her how to apply every颅thing, and explained why each product was chosen. Instead of a ragtag collection of colors that didn鈥檛 match her skin tone鈥攖he typical result when she鈥檇 tried makeup before鈥攕he saw, for the first time, a beautifully put-together face. But the euphoria was short-lived. She had to wipe off the makeup and walk outside, back to life as Nathan. Happiness turned to self-hatred.

Back in Salt Lake, the makeover is present in her mind when she comes across a friend鈥檚 Facebook post that stops her. It鈥檚 a quote from author Bren茅 Brown.

Time is growing short. There are unexplored adventures ahead of you. You can鈥檛 live the rest of your life worried about what other people think. You were born worthy of love and belonging. Courage and daring are coursing through your veins. You were made to live and love with your whole heart. It鈥檚 time to show up and be seen.

The words on the screen might as well have been written specifically for Nikki. She has tickets for a concert in Las Vegas in two days鈥擯ink Floyd alum Roger Waters鈥攖hat she and Cheri purchased before the Europe trip was finalized. With Cheri out of town, Nikki had no one to join her, and as her depression worsened, the excursion fell away. Now she reconsiders. Maybe it鈥檚 a sign. Maybe she could go on her own, dress as herself in public for the first time. She could show up and be seen as Nikki.

The next day, she will make the six-hour drive, get dressed up, and go out dancing at a queer club. For a few blissful hours, she鈥檒l live her life as Nikki. She鈥檒l dance all night. When she gets back from Las Vegas, she鈥檒l go to therapy, take steps to understand what all this means. She still feels suicidal, but Cheri will be gone for two more weeks. In the meantime, maybe Nikki can find enough clarity to figure out what to tell her wife鈥攁nd decide where to go from here.

Nikki was born in Portland, Oregon, on January 25, 1976, and christened Nathan Karl Smith. That year the family moved to Utah, where her father, Karl, worked for the Bureau of Land Management. From a young age, Nikki (like many transgender people, she goes by her chosen name even when discussing her early life) explored the nearby desert and wilderness with her father. Her mother, Margery, taught her to draw, paint, sew, and quilt. The Smiths were Mormon and prayed together every night; then Nikki was expected to have individual prayer time before bed.

鈥淪tarting when I was about five, I would kneel every single night and pray that God would make me a girl,鈥� she recalls. She wished for the same thing at birthdays and Christmases, too. When she was eight, her dad was diagnosed with leukemia. With a modest income and a lot of medical expenses, the family collected aluminum cans to supplement the aid they received from the Mormon church, and the Smith kids mostly wore secondhand clothes. Perhaps because of this, Nikki was bullied and beat up, so she started pulling away from her peers, which made her feel like even more of an outcast.

鈥淧arents wouldn鈥檛 let some of their kids play with me,鈥� she says. 鈥淚 was trying to be everything a boy was supposed to be. I don鈥檛 know, maybe they picked up on things that I didn鈥檛 even realize I was putting out. Or maybe it was just because we were poor and my father was dying, so people didn鈥檛 know how to be friends with my family.鈥�

The Smith kids found solace in each other, riding dirt bikes and running around the fields outside their house. Nikki 鈥渨as always there for me, my best friend,鈥� says her sister Heidi Pearce, who is six years her junior. After their father鈥檚 diagnosis, Heidi says, the family made it a goal to spend as much time together as possible, camping and mineral collecting in red-rock country. By this time, Karl Smith required multiple blood transfusions, and they didn鈥檛 know how much time he had left.

Around the age of ten, Nikki stopped praying to be a girl. Her body just wasn鈥檛 built that way, and everything she knew said she was supposed to be a boy. Talk shows like Jerry Springer featured cross-dressers and drag queens in demeaning ways, like it was all one big joke. Nikki knew she wasn鈥檛 like the people on TV, but she also knew that she was different from everyone else. Something was wrong with her, messed up. She hated herself for it.

After nearly six years battling cancer, Karl Smith died. It was hard on the close-knit family and financially challenging for Margery, with four kids to support. At 14, Nikki stepped into a caretaker role, doing yard work and helping with her younger siblings as much as she could.

鈥淚 think our family kind of went down after Dad died,鈥� Heidi says. 鈥淢y mom is a softie, and everything made her cry. We all got along for her sake.鈥� Heidi, who was eight, would hang out in Nikki鈥檚 room, listening to Pink Floyd and talking with her eldest sibling.

Three years later, Margery married Richard Obrey, who Heidi describes as 鈥渢he love of my mom鈥檚 life.鈥� While Nikki鈥檚 step颅father, who worked as a delivery driver at the time, had a good relationship with her little sisters, he didn鈥檛 get along as well with Nikki and her brother.

Nikki escaped this friction through climbing. She鈥檇 started seeing a family counselor after her father died and soon began helping the therapist lead younger kids on desert trips. The first time she went climbing was at a crag called 9th Street, near Ogden, on a 30-foot corner graded an easy 5.7. She wore basketball shoes and an oversize harness, but once she got on the rock, she was hooked.

鈥淓verything went quiet,鈥� she says. 鈥淚 wasn鈥檛 thinking about school. I wasn鈥檛 thinking about my stepfather. I wasn鈥檛 thinking about my father being gone. I wasn鈥檛 thinking about all my identity issues. I was just totally focused in a way that I never had been before.鈥�

Nikki gathered up some old gear and drafted her siblings to belay her. She would go bouldering alone or convince a schoolmate to come along. A climbing gym opened nearby, and having found another outlet in art, she traded some pencil drawings she鈥檇 made from climbing photos for a membership.

In 1994, at 18, Nikki participated in a climbing competition at Snowbird ski resort. Here, in person, were the stars she鈥檇 seen in magazines and Masters of Stone videos: Tony Yaniro, Bobbi Bensman, Steve Schneider, Timy Fairfield, Jeff Lowe. There were hundreds of spectators, many outfitted in Five Ten approach shoes and shirts with climbing logos. On the arti颅ficial walls, a photographer and videographer dangled above the climbers on fixed lines. Nikki was accustomed to suburban Utah, to a small life where you don鈥檛 experience much beyond school and church. The Snowbird event showed her that the climbing world was much bigger than she鈥檇 imagined, and that within it, much more was possible: travel, purpose, a career, a sense of belonging. Still, it all seemed out of reach.

Nikki graduated from high school that year and got a job at a factory in Ogden. But she kept looking for a way out, something that would cure this thing鈥攚hatever it was鈥攖hat made her a girl. 鈥淚 wanted to be a man,鈥� she says. 鈥淭hat鈥檚 what I was supposed to be.鈥�

At 18, Nikki decided to join the Army.

Cheri returns to the States from her trip to Europe on June 30, her 42nd birthday, and Nikki suggests that they celebrate the next day with a night on the town. Cheri knows that her partner has been depressed鈥攕he almost canceled her vacation because of it. At one point while Cheri was away, Nikki called her to talk about starting therapy, but Cheri attributed this to the general funk Nikki had fallen into after leaving Liberty Mountain to freelance. She 诲辞别蝉苍鈥檛 realize the full extent of Nikki鈥檚 depression, or that Nikki has been contemplating suicide.

After dinner, the couple have cocktails at the Red Door, one of their go-to bars in downtown Salt Lake City. Sitting in a corner of the patio, Nikki seems nervous at first but relaxes after a few drinks. She pulls out her phone and shows Cheri some 颅pictures of a woman with long, dark hair and makeup, smiling and dancing at a club in Las Vegas.

鈥淲ho is that?鈥� Cheri asks.

鈥淭hat鈥檚 me,鈥� Nikki says.

By this point, the couple have been married for 21 years. They met in the fall of 1995, when 19-year-old Nikki was stationed at Fort Hood, in central Texas, and 20-year-old Cheri Stumm, a fellow Mormon from Spokane, Washington, was spending the summer visiting her sister.

Nikki brought Cheri a single rose every Saturday when they were dating. 鈥淲e just had a blast together,鈥� Nikki says. 鈥淚 couldn鈥檛 be myself with myself, let alone anyone else. But I could be more of myself with her than anyone else I鈥檇 ever been around.鈥� They were married the next spring.

Before meeting Cheri, Nikki had found military life and its discipline a welcome distraction. There was physical training, tactical training, and military history. But she also worked hard to seem masculine. When she ran, she kept her lower arms rigidly fixed鈥攕he didn鈥檛 want to seem limp-wristed. She changed the way she spoke, adopting some of the other enlistees鈥� words and cadence.

At the same time, she was always eager to tap into the feminine鈥攕he wore knee-high pantyhose under her combat boots, for instance, to prevent blisters. (In later years, she鈥檇 shave her legs like some male runners, and when her male climbing buddies wore toenail polish for fun, she did too.) 鈥淎t that point, I felt like I was a guy,鈥� she says, 鈥渓ike I was able to do it. I convinced myself that I was fine. That didn鈥檛 last long.鈥�

In 1997, the couple moved to Salt Lake City, and Cheri began working full-time at the large company where she鈥檚 still employed as a contract analyst. Nikki attended the University of Utah on an ROTC scholarship. College was a revelation, exposing her to things she hadn鈥檛 seen growing up or in military life, like the existence of the queer community. But with the internet still in its infancy, finding information on being transgender was difficult. Nikki read about club scenes in certain big cities where older trans women would act as mother figures to newer arrivals. She wasn鈥檛 aware of anything like that in Utah.

With climbing areas like Little Cottonwood Canyon, Maple Canyon, Joe鈥檚 Valley, and American Fork within a few hours鈥� drive, Nikki began climbing obsessively. Every vacation the couple took was about climbing.

In 2001, Nikki was hired as a gear buyer for Liberty Mountain, ultimately becoming the company鈥檚 marketing manager. It was a dream job, entailing travel to Europe, photographing climbers on big trips, and managing professional athletes. With two incomes, the couple bought a house. They started trying to have kids.

Everything was going well, but whenever Nikki put on a slideshow at a local gym or gear shop, she felt like a fraud. 鈥淚 would just be a mess inside,鈥� she says. 鈥淚t was still kind of this, 鈥榃ell, if you knew who I really was, you wouldn鈥檛 be here. If you knew who I really was, you鈥檇 punch me in the face right now. If you knew who I really was, you鈥檇 be disgusted by me.鈥欌�夆��

One night in 2003, Nikki and Cheri went out to dinner, and Nikki confessed that she was transgender. She remembers trying to comfort Cheri by telling her that she would never transition鈥攏ever live as a woman publicly or have hormone therapy or surgery. She was stronger than other transgender people, Nikki recalls saying. That鈥檚 not me. I was in the Army, I鈥檓 a climber, I鈥檓 a guy.

Cheri 诲辞别蝉苍鈥檛 remember that night.

She does remember, a few years later, when her spouse offered to cook dinner for her and asked her to leave the house for a few hours. When Cheri returned home, she went into the kitchen and saw Nikki in a dress and makeup.

鈥淚n the back of my mind, I thought, If this is all you need, to dress up like this once or twice a year,鈥� Cheri says. 鈥淚 didn鈥檛 associate it with being transgender. I didn鈥檛 know what it meant.鈥� Several times, Cheri would come home from a work trip and notice that the blinds were closed. They never closed all the blinds. 鈥淚 would wonder if she dressed up, and I would be happy that she got it out of her system,鈥� she says. It made Cheri uneasy, but she didn鈥檛 want to face the larger implications. Her strategy was: don鈥檛 talk about it and it never happened.

Now, as the couple sit at the Red Door in the summer of 2017, Nikki tells Cheri that, after a few weeks of intensive therapy, she needs to explore living as a woman. Neither of them knows what that might mean for their relationship.

During therapy while Cheri was away, Nikki hoped to find the answer to a single question: Can I be happy living as Nathan? After a few sessions, the therapist, who had worked with several other trans people, asked, 鈥淚f you had magic abilities to change things and you could snap your fingers, would you be a girl?鈥� Without hesitation, Nikki answered yes. Saying it out loud for the first time made her realize that she couldn鈥檛 go on living as a man.

But deciding that she had to transition and actually doing so were worlds apart. From Nikki鈥檚 extensive research, it seemed like you had to be shorter, more petite, and 鈥減assable as a woman鈥� to survive. If you weren鈥檛, your life would be filled with harassment and discrimination. Nikki is six feet four inches, with broad shoulders and a muscular climber鈥檚 build.

What鈥檚 more, she had learned, most couples in which one partner transitions during the relationship don鈥檛 stay together. For two decades, Cheri had seen and loved her as a man. Now what?

Nikki also feared鈥攁nd still fears鈥攖he reactions that transitioning might invite, for herself and for Cheri. Despite strides made in LGBTQ+ equality in the past few years, the status of trans people remains dire. Being transgender is complicated, something many people don鈥檛 understand. There鈥檚 the sexual and physical . The constant hate speech and negative online messaging. The pressure of politicians .

鈥淚t鈥檚 easy to garner votes when you attack trans people,鈥� says Dani Hawkes, a lawyer specializing in trans issues and chair of the Utah chapter of the ACLU. 鈥淵ou can get votes by hurting women, too. You get a double whammy with a male-to-female trans person.鈥� Hawkes has known the Smiths for 20 years; she says that suicidal thoughts or attempts have been part of nearly every one of her trans clients鈥� stories. 鈥淚t鈥檚 time to put trans people first,鈥� she says. 鈥淭hey should be the focus of what we do, because they鈥檙e so vulnerable.鈥�

In September 2017, I received an e-mail from 鈥淣ikki Kovach鈥� regarding an article I鈥檇 just published in Climbing magazine. It was about Jamie Logan, a transgender woman climber. Formerly known as Jim, Logan is a pioneer of North American climbing who transitioned at age 65.

鈥淚 just want to thank you for your story on Jamie Logan,鈥� the e-mail began. 鈥淚t could not have come at a better time for me personally. I鈥檝e been fighting the fact that I鈥檓 transgender my entire life, and this year it鈥檚 finally come to a head.鈥�

Nikki wrote that she鈥檇 been working in the climbing industry a long time and this was the first article she鈥檇 seen about a transgender climber. The day she read it, she said, she made an appointment with an endocrinologist for hormone-replacement therapy.

Nikki also sent an anonymous message to Deanne Buck, the former executive director of Camber Outdoors, an organization dedicated to increasing the level of inclusivity in the industry. (Buck resigned this February after a backlash to Camber鈥檚 erroneous description of its CEO Outdoor Equity Pledge as the first of its kind.)

鈥淚 worried that nobody would want to buy guidebooks from a trans person,鈥� Nikki eventually confided in Buck, 鈥渢hat companies wouldn鈥檛 want to hire a trans person. Even if the company was liberal enough to be OK with me, I worried that they would still be too afraid of their customers鈥� reactions.鈥�

Buck countered those fears. 鈥淭here are always going to be detractors,鈥� she remembers telling Nikki at one point. 鈥淏ut I know the companies who are doing the work, the ones that are open, easier to work with, and might actually see this as an asset.鈥�

Indeed, many brands in the outdoor industry are recognizing the quickly evolving demographic in America鈥攁nd what that means for their workforce. 鈥淲hat we鈥檝e seen,鈥� Buck says, 鈥渋s that they are really leaning into the understanding that equity and inclusion are going to drive better business results.鈥�

In the past several years, the outdoor world has seen an increase in dialogue, events, and organizations connected with the LGBTQ+ community, including Massachusetts-based , which leads backpacking trips in New England, Colorado, and the Pacific Northwest for the queer, nonbinary, and trans communities, and Colorado-based , which offers nature education with a transformational component. In 2017, the first-annual LGBTQ Outdoor Summit was held in Seattle, organized by Washington, D.C.鈥揵ased and Seattle-based . With sponsors like REI and the North Face, the summit aims to increase queer representation in the industry and to create more accessibility for them to 鈥済et OUTside,鈥� according to its mission statement.

The founder and executive director of the Venture Out Project, Perry Cohen, is a 43-year-old transgender man who grew up an outdoorsy kid in New Hampshire. In the forests and mountains of the Northeast, he remembers, there were no bathrooms, no mirrors, and no one to comment on his tomboy clothing. At 38, he transitioned. Shortly afterward, while standing on the summit of New Hampshire鈥檚 Mount Monadnock, Cohen realized that his body, from which he had always felt disconnected, was what got him there. He decided to quit his job and help other trans and queer people have the same experience. A former intern at Outward Bound, he founded Venture Out Project in 2014. In 2018, VOP had more than 900 participants, of which, Cohen estimates, at least two-thirds identify as trans or nonbinary.

鈥淏y not seeing anyone like us, not having support, not having any visible role models, we got this micromessage that you can be outside, but don鈥檛 be visibly queer,鈥� Cohen says. 鈥淵ou can be here, but don鈥檛 come out in groups and don鈥檛 make your identity a prominent part. By raising awareness, we鈥檙e saying you can be here as your authentic self and you don鈥檛 have to tamp down the clothes you鈥檙e wearing, the way you talk, who you鈥檙e out with, or what piercings are showing. To me that鈥檚 the difference. We were always here, and now we can be here more authentically, more visibly.鈥�

Social-media accounts like and , with 55,600 and 121,000 followers, respectively, are starting to reflect a more inclusive outdoors. Wyn Wiley is the 26-year-old photographer behind Pattie Gonia. Wiley is a gay man in daily life, but once he puts on six-inch heels, his drag-queen persona, Pattie, takes over. In October 2018, Wiley went backpacking on the Continental Divide Trail with friends and took some photos and videos as Pattie. When he got home, he posted a short clip just for fun. When he woke up the next morning, the video had been watched 123 million times.

鈥淚 had REI reaching out to me the second week that Pattie was even a thing,鈥� Wiley says. 鈥淭hat kind of response really let me know that this was needed. I was completely blown away by how ready the outdoor industry was to accept me. It鈥檚 been a cool lesson that when you do the thing you think the world isn鈥檛 gonna love you for, often the world loves you for it.鈥�

Of course, dressing in drag has nothing to do with being transgender. But a larger message remains: the outdoor community is evolving.

At home in Salt Lake City, Nikki packs for a work trip to the ice-climbing mecca of Ouray, Colorado. There are two roller bags on the floor. One contains crampons, ice tools, ropes, camera gear, mountain boots, and technical outerwear; the other, a zippered makeup kit, colorful dresses, necklaces, and high heels. It鈥檚 January 2018鈥� three months into hormone-replacement therapy鈥攁nd Nikki worries that her developing breasts will be noticeable.

Those won鈥檛 be the only changes. In the coming months, she鈥檒l lose muscle mass and redistribute fat, giving her body a softer shape. Her red-blood-cell count will go down, and she鈥檒l become more susceptible to cold weather. Her skin will get thinner, softer, and drier, causing splits and cracks when she uses chalk for climbing. Her body hair will become lighter in color and density, and she will bruise more easily. The plan is that, after Nikki completes hormone therapy, they鈥檒l decide whether to pursue surgery. Cheri has been supportive and has gone to a few therapy sessions herself. But she isn鈥檛 sure whether she wants to stay married.

When Nikki and I meet the next day in Ouray, she鈥檚 sorting gear on the snowy pavement next to her Subaru. She鈥檚 growing her hair out鈥攊t barely covers the tops of her ears鈥攁nd wearing a blue puffy coat and men鈥檚 size 13 mountain boots. She has a downcast air. This isn鈥檛 necessarily surprising, as she鈥檚 still living as Nathan.

The previous month, when she was corresponding with me as Nikki Kovach, we talked on the phone for the first time. Just before the call, she sent me a text: 鈥淛ust a heads up that we know each other. I didn鈥檛 want it to be a surprise.鈥�

Sure enough, we did. 鈥淲e鈥檝e dealt with each other in the past,鈥� I heard as soon as we got on the phone. 鈥淵ou know me as Nathan Smith.鈥� As an editor at Climbing, I鈥檇 been in contact with her for several years, both as a photographer and as the media rep at Liberty Mountain. We saw each other at industry events and had always been friendly. My impression was of someone soft-spoken and kind, but with a certain dejected quality. As Nathan, Nikki had reminded me a little bit of Eeyore.

I鈥檓 here in Ouray to film Nikki for a documentary about her transition鈥攊n 2016, I started along with three other women in the outdoor industry to tell overlooked stories like hers. Since Nikki is here at the ice-climbing festival as Nathan, we devise a cover story: I鈥檓 making a film about a day in the life of a climbing photographer.

The hike to the route is snowy and steep. Nikki is accustomed to carrying the heavy pack of a photographer, but the hormones are taking a toll. She stops often to catch her breath. She never used to get cold, but now she鈥檚 cold all the time. She adjusts the straps on her pack so they don鈥檛 press against her breasts, which are slightly painful as they grow.

We return to the rental house Nikki is sharing with a dozen men and a few women who are also working at the festival. Others have started to arrive; they鈥檙e all friends of ours, but we鈥檙e both tense. We are the only two people in the room who know the truth, and I feel like I could let it slip at any moment. There鈥檚 nothing preventing me from saying something, and it鈥檚 terrifying. I鈥檝e only been hiding this secret for five minutes. Nikki has been hiding it for a lifetime.

Everyone has a glass of bourbon, and people start to loosen up. This is one reason that Nikki didn鈥檛 drink much for years, afraid that the truth would spill out, and why she began pulling away from social interaction. While the climber dudes crack jokes, we mostly keep silent, exchanging knowing glances. At one point we head up to Nikki鈥檚 room. Here she stands up straight, smiles wide, and starts talking a mile a minute about the future.

I pack up a few hours later, leaving Nikki effectively alone. Though it鈥檚 not as pronounced as in her military barracks 20 years earlier, to Nikki the conversations among male climbers can be filled with casual sexism. Even as the climbing world has moved closer to gender equity, alpine and ice climbing still attract fewer women, and the guys tend to possess a certain level of bravado. During a climbing trip Nikki went on in 2017, one guy made a joke about getting a friend drunk and hiring a transgender prostitute to have sex with him. Nikki stayed quiet while the rest of the group laughed.

When the scene in Ouray gets to be too much, she heads to her room or out to the car to practice vocal exercises. Nikki has a deep baritone, and the voice therapist has assigned a twice-a-day routine to strengthen her vocal cords and raise the pitch of her voice.

This in-between time, no longer Nathan but not yet fully Nikki, is the worst. All she wants is to be able to style her hair, to shape her eyebrows, to have breasts big enough to fill a bra, and to wear her clothing all the time. She has tasted the freedom of being Nikki, and each minute spent as anybody else feels like a step back.

At听6:15 on a Monday morning in May 2018, I meet Nikki and Cheri in their driveway in the Sugar House neighborhood of Salt Lake. The three of us load up into their car, and Nikki puts on her surgery playlist. Rachel Platten blasts through the speakers: This is my fight song / Take back my life song / Prove I鈥檓 alright song.

Nikki reaches over and puts her hand on Cheri鈥檚 leg. The couple look at each other, and they both let out a nervous chuckle.

It鈥檚 been tough so far, not just emotionally but financially: paying for therapy, hormones, doctor visits, surgeries and recovery time, laser hair removal, voice therapy, and lawyer and court fees to change her legal sex and name. Insurance has covered the doctor visits for hormones, as well as the voice therapy, but everything else has come from the couple鈥檚 savings. They鈥檝e spent almost $100,000 in the past year and have been living off Cheri鈥檚 income.

On the 30-minute drive to the University of Utah鈥檚 South Jordan Health Center, Cheri extends her hand and gently runs her fingers through Nikki鈥檚 hair. In this moment, worrying about money is just about the furthest thing from their minds. Today鈥檚 surgery is the second of three, and it鈥檚 a big one鈥攂reast augmentation.

Gender transitions can happen on three levels: social, hormonal, and surgical. (To these, Nikki would add mental.) Many transgender people will take every step available to them, but many will not鈥攆or cultural, social, or financial reasons, or just out of personal preference. 鈥淏ottom, or genital, surgery is the one that people always want to know about,鈥� Nikki says. 鈥淔or most trans people, that鈥檚 not something we really want to talk about. You wouldn鈥檛 walk up to any other woman and ask if she鈥檚 had a hysterectomy or any other delicate surgery down there. Even when close friends ask about bottom surgery, it鈥檚 invasive and inappropriate, and it 诲辞别蝉苍鈥檛 change who I am. I don鈥檛 have to have any of these surgeries in order to be me.鈥�

Today鈥檚 breast surgery is a turning point. After the two-hour procedure, there will be no hiding her new chest. On a daily basis, Nikki is finally beginning to see herself in the mirror. Procedures like fat transfer to the cheeks, rhinoplasty, and a tracheal shave mean that everyone else will see her, too.

Nikki hasn鈥檛 come out publicly, but between her and Cheri, they鈥檝e told about 80 of their close friends and family. 鈥淭he problem with coming out to someone,鈥� Nikki says, 鈥渋s there鈥檚 so much fear behind it that you analyze every interaction you鈥檝e ever had with that person. You go back and try to remember every post they鈥檝e ever made on social media, every comment, joke, whatever.鈥�

Nikki鈥檚 mom passed away from health complications in 2011, at age 59. Her siblings have been supportive, as has Cheri鈥檚 family, though they were initially surprised. In August 2018, the Stumms had a family reunion at Bear Lake in Utah, with Nikki, Cheri, and her five siblings. Elizabeth, Cheri鈥檚 youngest sister, has noticed that Nikki seems happier, laughing more than before.

And most of the Smiths鈥� friends have stepped up. 鈥淵ou can either be really shell-shocked or you can be really supportive,鈥� says Heath Christensen, a family friend for more than 20 years and one of the first people Nikki confided in. 鈥淚ntrinsically, she鈥檚 the same person. But the smiles come way easier, and there鈥檚 a lightness. You can see that a dark cloud has lifted. She鈥檚 liberated.鈥�

After checking into the hospital with a temporary copy of her new driver鈥檚 license鈥擭ikki Karla Smith, sex: F鈥攕he鈥檚 led into a pre-op room. The only sounds are the beep of a heart-rate monitor and the quiet voices of nurses prepping her for surgery. The doctor comes in to discuss the procedure and then takes her to a separate room for 鈥渂efore鈥� photos. There鈥檚 an anxious silence until the doctor cracks a joke about how awkwardly Nikki is standing in order to keep the oversize hospital gown from falling down. Everyone laughs, and we all breathe a little easier.

鈥淩elaaaaax,鈥� Cheri says to Nikki.

Cheri never considered not supporting Nikki through her transition, though there were times when she felt bleak about their future together. 鈥淪eeing how happy she is as a woman, but I married a man鈥擨 didn鈥檛 know how we鈥檇 get through this,鈥� she says. 鈥淚 didn鈥檛 know what it would do to our future, not just with us but with everything. I thought we would lose everybody. It wasn鈥檛 what I signed up for.鈥�

The breakthrough came in February 2018, during several days of counseling. On the last day, Cheri sat on her therapist鈥檚 couch scrolling through photos on her phone. 鈥淭here was one of Nikki, and I remember thinking, Yeah, this is who I love, this is who I want to be with. It was just, Aha.鈥� When she looked at shots of Nikki living as Nathan, she saw a sadness she had never noticed before. In the new photos of Nikki as herself, she saw a new light in her eyes. For Cheri, it became so simple: 鈥淲hy would you want to be with somebody who is so sad but not want to be with that same person who is now so happy?鈥�

No single event in the gear industry is bigger than the Outdoor Retailer trade show, held three times a year in Denver. It鈥檚 here, at the 2018 summer OR show, that Nikki will make her professional debut. Six months ago, after the Ouray ice-climbing festival back in January, she attended the OR Winter Snow Show. Days were spent networking as Nathan, uncomfortably making plans for future trips and work assignments that she knew wouldn鈥檛 happen, at least not in the same way. Nights were spent going out, with a few close friends, as Nikki.

A few weeks before the summer show, Nikki came out as transgender on Facebook and to the 30,000-plus followers of her Pull Media account on Instagram. While the post garnered hundreds of positive comments, as well as e-mail and text messages, she had no idea how people would react in person. Under the fluorescent lights at the 颅Colorado Convention Center, it鈥檚 obvious how un颅com颅fortable Nikki is. She fidgets with her hands and constantly scans the crowd as she walks the show floor. While the event is meant to be a place to do business, it鈥檚 equally a social affair, with everyone looking to connect. Many people come up to Nikki and say the requisite lines: 鈥淵ou look so great! I鈥檓 so happy for you! Congratulations!鈥� Few of the conversations go very deep, partly because people don鈥檛 know what to say and partly because it鈥檚 impossible to say much at an event that鈥檚 jam-packed with meetings, dinners, and happy hours.

Several interactions are rough. At one point, a longtime acquaintance asks Nikki if being dressed as a woman is some kind of shtick. 鈥淚 kept talking and didn鈥檛 let them know how much their comments hurt,鈥� she recalls. 鈥淏ut inside I was crushed.鈥�

There鈥檚 no protocol for how to handle any of this. Nikki goes from elated to disappointed and back numerous times. After a few hours she gets tired, and any time there isn鈥檛 an unambiguously positive reaction, she鈥檚 on the brink of tears. She sees strangers whispering and pointing as she walks by, and a few times she goes into the bathroom to cry.

On the last day of the show, Nikki grabs coffee with Deanne Buck. The two have stayed in contact throughout the transition, and now the women talk about the reactions Nikki received on the show floor鈥攖he good, the bad, the judgmental. Buck notices that Nikki is wearing jewelry, and realizing that she might never have had a safe place to buy it, she asks, 鈥淒o you want to go shopping?鈥� Nikki assumes she means leave the convention center and go into downtown Denver, but Buck leads her across the show floor to the booth for Bronwen Jewelry, an Oregon-based brand. 鈥淢y friend has great jewelry, and I think you鈥檇 love it,鈥� she explains.

Nikki meets designer Bronwen Lodato, and they discuss the difficulty of finding jewelry that fits her wrists and neck. Lodato offers to make some custom-length pieces, and a few weeks later there鈥檚 a package on Nikki鈥檚 doorstep and an e-mail in her inbox asking her to be an ambassador for the brand.

Her affiliation with Bronwen Jewelry is just the beginning of a seismic shift in Nikki鈥檚 career trajectory. She still works as a photographer and is still building Pull Media, but she鈥檚 been invited to more than a dozen climbing events鈥攕ome women specific, some not鈥攖o present slideshows and speak on panels. After these appearances, she often receives private messages from queer people who are struggling, including people wrestling with gender identity. Seeing Nikki in person, they explain, makes them realize that there are other trans climbers out there, and that transitioning is possible.

In March, Nikki signs a contract to be an ambassador for REI鈥攕he鈥檒l lead clinics, consult on company policy, and speak at events. 鈥淯ltimately, she鈥檚 helping to make way for a more vibrant and inclusive outdoor community,鈥� says Nicole Browning, a senior marketing program manager at REI, 鈥渢o shift the narrative about gender equity and get closer to the level playing field we know the outdoors to be. Raising up Nikki鈥檚 voice and story is one way to help people feel a more personal connection to someone whose life and experiences might be different from their own, but who may also have a lot in common.鈥�

Nikki feels ready to be heard. 鈥淚 delayed this decision for way too long out of fear,鈥� she said when she first contacted me. 鈥淚 delayed because I did not have anyone else to look up to. I delayed because I did not feel I had a voice. I delayed for too many reasons, but I am no longer going to be forced to be someone I am not. If I can help make real change in the outdoor industry and beyond, I plan on doing so.鈥�

Nikki and I are back in her driveway. It鈥檚 still dark at 5:30 a.m. on a cold October 2018 morning when we leave her house to head up into the Uintas. She spotted some ice forming on a route called Golden Spike when she was scouting the area a few days before. This is one of her favorite seasons. Every year, she likes to see if she can be the first person to climb ice in the lower 48.

鈥淎re you psyched?鈥� her climbing partner, Jason Hall, asks while they pack their gear at the trailhead.

鈥淚鈥檓 always psyched for ice,鈥� she says with a grin before heading down the snowy trail. This time she鈥檚 prepared for the cold, with extra layers and warm gloves. She鈥檚 wearing mostly women鈥檚 outerwear, though her boots are still men鈥檚. They probably always will be. A long brown ponytail hangs down her back, and turquoise earrings dangle just below the edge of her beanie.

Out on the ice, Nikki is fully in her element. Here in her backyard range, she鈥檚 finally climbing ice with a partner who knows who she really is. Each swing of the ice tool sprays snow and ice onto her face, but she keeps her head up and her smile wide.

While her new life in the spotlight can be difficult鈥擭ikki鈥檚 still the shy, reserved person she鈥檚 always been鈥攕he feels a sense of connection she鈥檚 never had before. She鈥檚 able to open up completely, one thing she could never do living as Nathan. Becoming a trans advocate wasn鈥檛 necessarily part of the plan, but she鈥檚 growing into her role.

鈥淟ife is getting better and better,鈥� she says, 鈥渂ut it鈥檚 still challenging.鈥� She鈥檚 been groped or propositioned by men wanting to have sex with her for money or drugs. She鈥檚 misgendered almost daily, stared at, and occasionally harassed walking down the street. Every day, she faces new encounters that range from good to egregious, and she must figure out when to ignore the slights and when to stand up for herself.

鈥淚t is pretty amazing seeing who this person becomes who you never knew existed,鈥� Cheri says. 鈥淪he鈥檚 been buried for so long.鈥�

For Cheri, the hardest part has been saying goodbye to Nate, the person she fell in love with almost 24 years ago. She still has good and bad days, some when she鈥檇 rather hole up in the house than go out as a couple and face people鈥檚 stares. She still hasn鈥檛 gone out in the T-shirt a friend gave her that reads, I鈥檓 not a lesbian, but my wife is. But she鈥檚 learned to care less about what people think, to let her guard down and live life how she wants. 鈥淚 spent too much energy on making sure everybody else was happy with what I was doing instead of just doing what I want,鈥� Cheri says. 鈥淚鈥檓 not afraid anymore.鈥�

While Cheri still struggles with the romantic aspect of their relationship (鈥淚鈥檓 not attracted to women at all, but I鈥檓 attracted to Nikki as a person,鈥� she says), she and Nikki both say they鈥檝e never been closer. There are no secrets anymore. Before, they were so concerned about hurting each other鈥檚 feelings that they wouldn鈥檛 discuss deep issues at all. Now they can just talk.

Talking without fear or judgment, in an effort to understand someone who is different from you鈥攊t鈥檚 a concept that鈥檚 simple in theory but hard in practice. Using words the right way could be the one thing that prevents a trans person from killing themselves or guides a gender-confused teenager to someone who can help. Five words saved Nikki鈥檚 life, words that are now tattooed on her left wrist. Show up and be seen.

Julie Ellison () is a former editor in chief at Climbing Magazine. With her partners at Never Not Collective, she鈥檚 working on a film about Nikki Smith鈥檚 experiences as a transgender climber.

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鈥淗ayden and Inge died.鈥� (October 8, 2017)

The text lit up my phone late one night, four words that seared themselves into the back of my skull. The texter, my friend Leslie, called a few minutes later to relay the details. Renowned climbers Inge Perkins and Hayden Kennedy got caught in an avalanche while skiing in Montana. Perkins died, and unable to bear the loss of his love, Kennedy returned home and killed himself. I had met Inge a handful of times, a sweet and lovely young woman who quietly climbed circles around everyone. I didn鈥檛 know Hayden, but I had followed his impressive career for almost a decade and knew him to be a thoughtful and brilliant person.

After getting off the phone, I sat in the dark of my van, wondering what to do with this pain. It was an ache that made me uncomfortable by its very existence. I didn鈥檛 know either of them very well; do I even have a right to be this upset? Is my sorrow valid? Parked in the middle of the woods just south of Meyers, California, I was alone and didn鈥檛 know anybody within a six-hour drive. It was after 11 p.m., too late to call other friends. Hayden and Inge were so loved by so many. All I could do was get in bed and cry. As much as I wanted the night to be over, I dreaded waking up to the heartbreak that would be sweeping the rest of our little climbing community.

鈥淒id you hear about Savannah?鈥� my friend Shelma asks. I say no, assuming Sav has done something super cool I should know about. Shelma continues, 鈥淪he died in a climbing accident yesterday.鈥� 听(March 29, 2018)

I sat in front of my laptop at Black Sheep Coffee Roaster in Bishop, California, the work I鈥檇 come there to do now forgotten. Savannah Buik, a 22-year-old climber from Chicago, was leading a route at Devil鈥檚 Lake State Park in Wisconsin. She fell, and the two pieces of protection she placed came out. She hit the ground and died on impact.

I met Savannah six years ago in Horse Pens 40, Alabama, at a boulder problem called Genesis. As the only two girls among a sea of climber boys at the crag that day, she and I struggled with the problem鈥檚 huge crux move. In between burns, I overheard her telling a friend about her efforts to get better at climbing writing, and that she hoped to intern at Climbing magazine one day. At the time I was an editor there, and the person in charge of hiring interns, so I mentioned this to her. Even though she was only in high school, I admired her stoke and drive. We talked for a long time at that boulder, the conversation carrying over into countless emails exchanged for years afterward. She would send me links to her recent work; I would send her feedback and encouragement.

After hearing the news, I didn鈥檛 know what to do with myself. I got up and walked around aimlessly outside. I called a few friends, then my mom. I walked back in the coffee shop and stopped near the cash register, unsure of what I was doing there. Shelma approached me, and I just put my head on her shoulder and cried.

鈥淐an I call you? One of my best friends from Bend died yesterday in a climbing accident at Smith.鈥� (April 11, 2018)

Another text, this one from my friend Bobby. His buddy Alex Reed was unroped on easy terrain, scoping new-route potential in Smith Rock. The 20-year-old climber slipped and fell 300 feet. On the phone, Bobby told me about Alex, a loving and genuine person who鈥檇 become a bright fixture in the Bend climbing community. Unsure of how to deal with his sorrow, Bobby decided to drive ten hours from Bishop to see Alex鈥檚 Astrovan one more time, to go to Smith Rock and be with mutual friends. He texted me again a few days later: 鈥淲hat鈥檚 one thing you would tell someone who just lost a friend? People are really hurting.鈥� I responded as best I could鈥�say you鈥檙e sorry, listen, be there for them鈥攂ut it felt pathetic.

Because what do you say? How do you tell someone you鈥檙e sorry a hundred times and not feel like a useless piece of shit? How do you deal with your own grief, let alone someone else鈥檚? We do what we can by turning to friends, posting tributes on social media, and analyzing what contributed to the misfortune. Maybe if we look at the scenario and what went wrong, we can avoid the same fate. Death 诲辞别蝉苍鈥檛 discriminate, but it sure does seem to like climbers.

Like a building thunderstorm, the risk of death follows climbers throughout our vertical lives. At first we view the clouds from afar鈥攚e鈥檙e aware of their presence but they don鈥檛 affect us directly, like a well-known alpinist disappearing in the big mountains or a rappelling accident at a faraway crag. Time passes, you climb more, and the clouds grow larger and darker with each 鈥淥h, my buddy was friends with her…鈥� Then crack鈥攍ightning strikes, the bottom falls out of the sky, and death strikes someone close to you.

Pro climber Madaleine Sorkin has been climbing for almost two decades, but a slew of accidents last year hit really close to home. In August, Sorkin and climbing partner Kate Rutherford helped a woman out of the Wind River Range in Wyoming after the woman鈥檚 partner died in a rappelling accident. Kennedy, whom Sorkin was close with, and Perkins died in early October, and a few days later, Quinn Brett, a longtime climbing partner of Sorkin鈥檚, took a 听on El Capitan and was paralyzed from the waist down.

鈥淭here was raw grief for me with these losses and changes,鈥� Sorkin says.听鈥淚 felt stunned and depressed. I wasn鈥檛 finding climbing fulfilling and didn鈥檛 know how to process the pain that I was feeling related to climbing.听And as I looked around our climbing community I didn鈥檛 see much guidance or resource for how to process this grief.鈥� 听

So听Sorkin teamed up with the American Alpine Club to create the , a resource for climbers affected by the death. The idea is to help the climbing community, as a whole and on an individual level, cope with trauma and grief. It will start with a grief resource webpage, individual counseling grants, and group听therapy sessions at climbing events, like the nationally touring听festival听AAC Craggin鈥� Classics鈥攁ll coordinated by the AAC听with plans to expand as more funding comes in.

Right now the fundraising page鈥檚 goal is set at $12,000, and Outdoor Research has agreed to match the first $5,000;听they are hoping to grow the fund in the coming years through individual/private, corporate, and organizational donations. To raise money for the Grief Fund,听Sorkin and climber Mary Harlan have planned a 24-hour link-up of three big routes in Colorado鈥檚 Black Canyon of the Gunnison, calling the attempt . Originally she was going to attempt the link-up in late May, but a large portion of the canyon was closed indefinitely due to a shifting football-field size flake in the area called The Flakes. The climb has been postponed to September.

The only way to truly avoid the tempest of death is to stop climbing altogether. Since most of us won鈥檛 stop climbing, eventually the thunder and lightning will find us. The aim of the Grief Fund is to provide some shelter from the storm, just enough protection to get us through the heaviest part of the downpour and into the bright sunlight that follows.

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Most climbers agree on one thing: rappelling is terrifying. While the concept of using a rappel device to descend a rope is simple, in practice it requires the utmost attention to detail. This proves difficult when you鈥檙e mentally and physically exhausted after a long climb and all you can think about is cheeseburgers. The margin for error is razor thin,听and accidents often result in death.

Those risks are compounded by the fact that most big climbs require multiple rappels to get to the ground, which adds logistical challenges. If you want to rappel more than 30 to 35 meters (roughly 100 to 115 feet)听at a time (or half the length of one rope), you need to bring along another rope. But a second rope adds weight, and when you鈥檙e committing to big days in high mountains, extra pounds matter.听

, a听new detachable anchor system听from French climbing-gear manufacturer Beal, could solve that problem, allowing you to rappel the full length of a single rope, then retrieve the rope by pulling on it a certain way听and keep descending. Weighing in at 3.2 ounces and packing down to the size of a beer can, the device seemingly offers a weight-saving solution. But听while making it possible for climbers to get to the ground with fewer rappels and thus descend faster, the mechanism it uses could prove risky and make rappelling more dangerous. We tested it out to see if the pros outweigh the cons.

How It Works

The design of the Escaper is simple but brilliant. There鈥檚 a four-foot section of dry-treated dynamic climbing rope with听a Dyneema wrap, a bungee cord, and an attachment loop at the bottom. Thread the end of the Escaper through the anchor and then all the way down through the Dyneema wrap, which resembles a friction hitch. Tie听your main rope to the attachment loop below the Dyneema wrap. As with a听, pulling on the Dyneema wrap (or, in this case, weighting it for rappel)听causes it to tighten, effectively locking it in place. The rappeller can then descend.听

Once on the ground, it鈥檚 time to get your rope back. Pulling and releasing the rope sharply causes the bungee to stretch and then spring back up, moving the Dyneema wrap along with it. With each pull and release, the Dyneema wrap听inches down the Escaper rope. Yank the rope enough times (Beal says it takes a minimum of eight, but in our testing it was closer to 12)听and the friction hitch inches right off the end of the Escaper. The device鈥檚 rope segment slides through the anchors, and the Escaper and climbing rope fall to where you can retrieve them.

Beal isn鈥檛 just marketing this as an emergency tool; the company envisions it as a tool for competent climbers familiar with the terrain to routinely make full-length, single-rope rappels, lightening their packs and getting to the ground faster.听鈥淭he name is Escaper, so it is听first a backup device,鈥� says听a Beal representative. 鈥淏ut when you know the routes, you can use the Escaper as a standard way to rappel with a听single rope. So听it鈥檚 a back-up system, but not only a backup system.鈥�

Why It Might Be Dangerous

Holding a听Rappel

The device is designed to come unattached after a rappel, which raises the question: Could that happen听during a rappel? Rappels are rarely straight or free-hanging. Climbers will likely unweight or partially unweight the rope as they come听to ledges or bulges. Theoretically, unweighting the rope mid-rappel could mimic the yanking and releasing action that makes the Escaper inch over itself and ultimately release. In the instruction manual, Beal requires a consistent weight of ten kilograms听(22 pounds) to keep the bungee taught, but how do you know if you鈥檙e exerting the minimum听amount of force on the device to keep it engaged?

Asked whether unweighting the rope could mimic the pull-release motion of rope retrieval, the Beal representative听says, 鈥淚t is possible, which is why we say you need to maintain ten kilograms of weight on the rope.鈥�

But the representative adds that 鈥渢he pull and release actions听are very active movements,鈥� meaning that they should be quicker and more forceful听than those used when unweighting the rope during a rappel.

Backing It Up

Beal recommends using a backup knot and a testing system for each rappel: fix the Escaper with a knot at the end of the rope segment and send your partner down while you stay at the anchors to make sure that the friction hitch 诲辞别蝉苍鈥檛 move during rappel and does move when yanked for retrieval. Then you can remove听the knot and rap听down. This requires communication between you and your partner, which isn鈥檛 always possible. Consider this situation: You notice听a problem during your partner's rappel, but your partner is now 200 feet below and out of earshot. What are you听to do?

With respect to that scenario, the Beal representative听says that the Escaper isn鈥檛 any different from a typical two-rope rappel. 鈥淲hat can you do when you rappel with your two strands of half rope and the knot is stuck somewhere?鈥� he asks. 鈥淭he Escaper is as efficient as any other method to rappel down.鈥�

Rope Retrieval

Will you reliably be able to retrieve your rope after you rappel in all conditions?听Testing the Escaper as a demo on a trade-show floor鈥攁s Ed Crothers, who directs听the 听climbing-instructor program, did鈥攚ent smoothly. But that was under ideal conditions. 鈥淚t was in a free-hanging, vertical orientation, attached to an eyebolt, which nearly eliminates the friction that would be found in many climbing situations,” Crothers says. 鈥淚 still have a lot of questions.鈥�

For instance: What happens when you factor in the weight of a full 60- or 70-meter rope or a wet rope? What if the rope runs over听ledges, cracks, or听slabs, causing friction? In the field, yanking your rope won't always be听as easy as it is in a听demo situation鈥攁nd if you鈥檙e more than one rope length off the ground, getting your rope back is essential.

Our Test

Our team of testers鈥攎e and several experienced climbers and canyoneers, including Spencer McBride, a guide in Zion National Park鈥攗sed this device in several situations: on a test听anchor at chest height, on single-pitch climbs, and on multi-pitch climbs听with one big rappel to the ground.听In all these situations, the rope ran straight,听with few听ledges听and little contact with the rock, and the Escaper performed perfectly, staying put during rappel and coming free after about a dozen harsh tugs from the ground. However, we couldn't mimic a long, jerky rappel, weighting and unweighting the rope, without abandoning our backup protocol, which none of us felt comfortable doing.

As for retrieving the rope after rappel, we found that pulling a 70-meter rope with the added resistance of the Escaper听was quite similar to pulling the added weight of a second听70-meter rope听on a standard double-rope rappel. The biggest difficulty for me was getting the snap of the pull-release motion, especially with more than half the rope out. It requires a powerful, coordinated, full-body motion at odds with听the slow and controlled method of pulling ropes in a standard rappel. 听

The Upshot

The Escaper isn鈥檛 the first device of its kind. In the late fifties, French climber and inventor Pierre Allain created the Decrocheur Allain, a metal device with a spring-loaded hook that popped off the anchor as soon as it was unweighted. It never caught on. A similar approach involves hooking a standard piece of aid-climbing gear called a fifi hook to the anchor鈥攊t, too, requires consistent weight during the entire rappel. Some climbing guides use a special听rope hitch that comes undone with a few pulls, but it has resulted in at least one death.

The Escaper is the first device designed to听allow the user to unweight the rope multiple times before it releases. And听unlike similar tools and tricks, Beal is claiming it isn鈥檛 just a last-ditch听emergency device. As the Beal representative听says, Beal wants the Escaper to become a regular part of the experienced climber鈥檚 kit.

For Ron Funderburke, education director at the , it鈥檚 the lack of certain caveats and concerns in Beal鈥檚 instruction manual听that are the cause skepticism. 鈥淭hey don鈥檛 mention icy conditions. They don鈥檛 mention vegetated or loose terrain, where the Escaper could dislodge debris or get stuck,鈥� he says. 鈥淎re we to believe that none of these circumstances impose conditions on the Escaper鈥檚 use?鈥� (Though as the Beal representative听told听国产吃瓜黑料, 鈥淏eal feels like they covered this in their product-use guidelines,鈥� pointing to a bullet in the instruction manual听that warns that “in wet or icy conditions the system will become more susceptible to abrasion and lose strength.鈥�)

With the device so new听and testing limited, it鈥檚 nearly impossible to answer many of these safety concerns right now. In the meantime, most of the professionals we spoke with encourage climbers and canyoneers to think of the Escaper as an emergency-only device听rather than a replacement for a conventional rappelling setup. More important, they emphasize that only advanced and experienced climbers should use it.

鈥淚n the hands of the unaware or incompetent, this device could be deadly,鈥� Crothers says. 鈥淏ut if over time it proves itself to be a viable, versatile tool, then it could be a game changer.鈥�

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At the 2018 Women鈥檚 Climbing Fest in Bishop, California, we talked with professional climbers, guides, and industry workers to soak up some advice for beginners. Here鈥檚 their best advice for advancing your technique, taking care of your body, and overcoming mental obstacles.

Climb with Your Feet

Many beginner climbers think the sport is all about upper-body strength, says , an outdoor photographer and climber. But paying attention to where you place your feet often allows you to reach higher holds more easily and puts less strain on your arms and fingers. Instead of focusing on pulling on the next hold, she says to 鈥渁lways think with your feet first.鈥�

Don鈥檛 Compare Yourself to Others

Negative self-talk can seem insignificant, but it may actually hinder your growth in climbing, says , a professional climber and nutritionist. 鈥淐limbing is an individual game, meaning it鈥檚 unique for each of us, and that鈥檚 the beauty of it. Make it your own thing, celebrate in the differences, and support one another鈥檚 triumphs.鈥�

Stretch Your Hips

Flexibility is often overlooked, but it can help you reach different holds, creating more options for solving climbs, according to pro climber and coach Molly Mitchell. Flexibility in your hips opens the door to higher or distant footholds. She suggests this stretch: Lie on the floor in a frog position鈥攁s if you鈥檙e doing the middle splits, but bend your knees. Stretch for one minute on and one minute off for five total minutes of stretching.

Rely on All Your Fingers

鈥淎lways use your pinkies,鈥� professional climber Kyra Condie recommends. 鈥淣ot only do they make your grip position stronger, but they also help you avoid injuries.鈥�

Take Care of Your Skin

鈥淲hen your skin is good, climbing 诲辞别蝉苍鈥檛 hurt as much and your day lasts longer,鈥� pro climber Abbey Smith says. She keeps her fingertips clean with a small, durable spray bottle of rubbing alcohol. Smith rests to cool down her body temperature so her hands are dry before attempts, and she files away any rough edges on her hands with fine-grade sandpaper. Post-climbing, Smith repairs her skin with an anti-inflammatory, antibacterial, moisturizing ointment. 鈥淣eosporin with pain relief is my favorite,鈥� she says.

Embrace Failure

鈥淯nderstand that climbing is mostly about being comfortable with failing,鈥� pro climber says, whether that鈥檚 a fear of falling, the inability to complete a certain move, or a lack of confidence. Instead of trying to push away feelings of insecurity, Harrington tries to acknowledge them. 鈥淚 felt so bad about myself every time I was afraid, because none of the boys seemed to be scared. I wanted to be like them,鈥� she says. 鈥淚 wish I had known that it was perfectly OK to be like me.鈥�

Top-Rope to Learn to Place Gear

To take some of the risk out of gear placement, start on top rope, says , a guide and professional climber. She suggests new climbers weight each piece of gear and bounce-test it. Then, look closely at what the piece does under a little bit of force. 鈥淭his will not only help you learn how to place gear properly and quickly in a safe environment, but it will also help you learn to trust your gear,鈥� Oakley says. 鈥淚f pieces pop out鈥攇reat! You鈥檙e learning.鈥�

Focus on Getting Better Instead of Stronger

Professional climber Jenn Flemming says this simple mindset switch helps a lot. 鈥淲hen you鈥檙e a beginner, there鈥檚 an incredible learning curve in terms of technical knowledge about movement, body position, and strategy,鈥� she says. 鈥淒eveloping competent technique will take you so much further than CrossFit or the hangboard.鈥� How to up your technique: Spend time watching other people climb, observing movement and how different people use their body in different ways. Keep an eye out for how and when climbers rest, and notice their style choices鈥攂ent versus straight arms, open hips versus back-stepping. You will get stronger naturally as you climb more. 鈥淭here鈥檚 plenty of time for training when you inevitably plateau a few years in,鈥� Flemming says. 鈥淏ut technical knowledge is crucial and something you can begin developing at the outset.鈥�

Go Ahead and Fall

鈥淚 just took my first lead fall outside, and I鈥檓 climbing 5.13 in the gym. I refused to take falls, because it felt like failure to me,鈥� says Meaghen Brown, a writer for Patagonia and former 国产吃瓜黑料 editor. 鈥淏ut falling 诲辞别蝉苍鈥檛 mean that you鈥檙e failing. It means that you鈥檙e working on something and you鈥檙e learning.鈥� As long as you master the proper techniques for lead climbing and you can take safe falls, don鈥檛 be afraid to jump right in and lead things at or above your limit, says Sara Nazim, a product developer at Outdoor Research.

Stay Psyched

No matter where you are in the climbing process, attitude is everything, says , a life and nutrition coach. Are you the person who brings eagerness to every climbing session, or are you the person who throws their shoes on the ground when they can鈥檛 send a project? Instead of jumping to find an excuse when you can鈥檛 finish a route, use your failure as a learning experience. 鈥淓nthusiasm and desire to learn are the character traits that really matter while learning to climb, not the grade,鈥� McCandless says.

Want to refine your climbing skills? Check out our online course on , where 国产吃瓜黑料+ members get full access to our library of more than 50 courses on adventure, sports, health, and nutrition.

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On Tuesday, February 6, Michaela Kiersch, 23, sent Necessary Evil (5.14c), making her the first woman to climb this benchmark route in Arizona鈥檚 Virgin River Gorge. Paige Claassen, 27, sent the same line the following day.

At 5.14c, is technically not the hardest pitch in the U.S. as far as grades go鈥�, a 5.15b at California鈥檚 Clark Mountain, holds that title. But the conditions-dependent rock and听the听long reaches between tiny holds on this historic route听have thwarted some of the world鈥檚 most elite climbers. Plus, the crag鈥檚 setting makes high-performance rock climbing difficult. The shape of the canyon blasts wind toward the limestone walls. The walls themselves are听located in the northwestern-most tip of Arizona, directly above I-15, where the roar of semi-trucks听passing at听80 miles per hour听can be deafening.听

Kiersch鈥檚 personal motto is 鈥渂e strong enough to overcome minor inconveniences,鈥� which came in handy her first day on the route. Within a few tries, she had figured out all the moves of the 90-foot line. That's when she knew it would be possible to do it clean.听鈥淚nitially, the opening moves, which are the hardest and described as V10 to V12, were very physical for me and felt low-percentage,鈥� she says. However, once she figured out the sequence, she was able to execute the moves every time.

She gave the route a few attempts each day, getting through the low crux every time but falling at the upper crux鈥攁nother long reach to a small crimp, followed by a desperate stab for a bigger hold. She repeated that sequence for almost a week before it was time for her to head back home to Salt Lake City,听where she was competing in听, an indoor climbing competition. 鈥淟eaving was really hard, likely due to a combination of disappointment, frustration, and eagerness to try again, but I had made a commitment to compete and I wanted to honor that,鈥� Kiersch says. 鈥淯ltimately, I needed to walk away [from the route] anyway because I sensed that I was building a mental barrier.鈥�

Meanwhile, Paige Claassen, a pro climber from Colorado, had also been trying the route for a few weeks. 鈥淣ecessary Evil definitely suits my style, and I got really close in 2014, but it was just way too hot. It鈥檚 more of a mental crux because everything comes down to one move,鈥澨鼵lassen says, referring to the tricky stab at the upper crux.听Because the rock was so rough on her skin, Claassen was limited to trying it every other day.

After making it to semifinals at听Bouldering Nationals, Kiersch returned to the Virgin River Gorge on Monday. On Tuesday, she sent the route.听Claassen sent the next morning.听

鈥淲hat struck me as interesting was not two women gunning for an FFA [first female ascent], because I don't think that鈥檚 what was happening,鈥� says , a photographer and filmmaker who was in the VRG at the time. 鈥淚t struck me as interesting that there were so many people getting close to sending this historic testpiece, which used to be a benchmark in American climbing.鈥�

Both climbers credit the history of the route as their inspiration for trying the line. It was the hardest route in the country when Chris Sharma made the first ascent in 1997, and prior to this week, only about a dozen people had successfully climbed it, including Tommy Caldwell, Jonathan Siegrist, and Ethan Pringle. Alex Honnold, who has tried the climb but not sent it, calls it a 鈥渉ard, old-school route.鈥� He says, 鈥淚t鈥檚 finicky鈥攊t can鈥檛 be too hot or too cold or too humid, because it will feel impossible. Unless it鈥檚 too dry, then it will feel slippery. It鈥檚 kind of heinous, and it鈥檚 extra hard if you鈥檙e shorter than 5鈥�10鈥�.鈥�

Kiersch is 5鈥�1鈥�.听Claassen is 5鈥�6鈥�.

鈥淸Michaela and I] are very different climbers in terms of strength and size,鈥� Claassen says, 鈥渂ut it was cool to cheer each other on, and we had a solid group of ladies up at the crag. Everyone was trying hard and having a lot of fun.鈥�

Necessary Evil had been on a vision board Kiersch keeps in her home training room, along with other climbing and life objectives, like getting into grad school to pursue a doctorate in occupational therapy. While there are plenty of future goals to think about, for now, Kiersch is focusing on the satisfaction of crossing Necessary Evil off the list.

鈥淚 just want to enjoy this accomplishment a little bit longer,鈥澨齭he says, 鈥渂efore shifting my attention to the next objective.鈥澨�

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