Category: Profiles

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PAFlete: Jess Roskelley—Finiding His Place in the Mountains

by Jonathan Barrett

Photo: Ben Erdman

Jess Roskelley is a guy who is obsessed with climbing. It is logical, of course, that the alpinist who ticked off the unclimbed South Ridge of Huntington in Alaska would be single-minded about his climbing. However, he was not always this way. One might expect that the son of celebrated mountaineer, John Roskelley, would have felt the from the very beginning the lure of the mountains, but it was not always there for him as a kid.

Despite being very aware of his father’s climbing career and even dabbling in climbing as a kid, he was not particularly interested in the sport when he was young. In high school he was like most teenagers. He did not think much about the future or about what he wanted to be. His priorities were, in his words, “wrestling and chasing girls.”

Paradoxically climbing was at the same time an integral part of his life. When he started guiding on Rainier at eighteen, it was not a big deal to him. He described it as a

Jess camping with his family in 1986.

 “way to get out of the house and seriously. At that time in his life, he would, “run out with some other kids,” and occasionally put himself in danger. Climbing was a thing on the side.
make a little money.” Perhaps this should have been the first indication that he was due for much bigger things when a nonchalant job for him is a lofty aspiration for many young climbers. He continued to climb off and on in his late teens and early twenties but not particularly

It was not until he was twenty-five that there was a shift. Like many climbers, there was a moment, a single climb that reframed his perspective on the sport. Slipstream, a famous alpine line on Snow Dome, caught his imagination, and he asked his father, who was sixty at the time, to join him. Plans went awry though when the weather turned sour. He and his father were forced into an open bivy by terrible conditions, and the rangers were sent out to rescue them. The experience made him realize that climbing could be an intellectual pursuit as much as a physical one. He wanted to know how to do it better and to gain the knowledge that he was missing. Jess has that pivotal experience and has not looked back since.

Photo: Clint Helander

Although he has made other mistakes from time to time, he has learned to be patient while acquiring his skills. He noted that, “some guys go out full bore,” when beginning their career in alpinism, and there is the tendency to make mistakes. He described his progression and growth as being a natural one. When asked if he has had any close calls, he admitted that they have become more frequent in recent years. Two stand out in his mind. In Patagonia he recently ended up climbing a serac that he recognized at the time was highly risky. The next day, the glacier cut loose over the path that he had just been on. On Mt. Huntington, he almost took a fatal ride when an icy glove led to unclipping a carabiner.

Jess acknowledges that he does take some risks on climbs and that the more challenging the objective the greater his tolerance for risk is. The question is, of course, why. The longer he has been at the game, the more confident he has become in his skills and judgment, and the deeper his motivation is to strive for lofty goals. It is an obsession for him now. Jess believes that all serious climbers feel the compulsion in some way or another. For him, “it runs the show.” Climbing has determined his choice of job as a contract welder, the locations for vacationing with his wife, and the way that he eats every day.

He recognizes that he is very fortunate that climbing continues to bring meaning and purpose into his day to day existence. “Life is simple on a mountain. Your only job is to survive,” he said. “I feel like life would be mundane without the experiences I get while climbing mountains.” The experiences that his has in the mountains sustains him in his normal day to day life.

Photo: Clint Helander

When asked what his endgame was, he responded in the following way: “To be content is the endgame.” Has he achieved this yet? In his mind, the answer is a resounding yes. Somehow he manages to be both driven to achieve at higher and higher levels, and at the same time be satisfied with all that he has already done. When asked about what it was like to be the son of a prominent alpinist and whether he felt the pressure to follow in his father’s footsteps, he said, “Somehow my dad did it the right way, when it came to me with climbing.” Jess was allowed to find it on his own terms and define satisfaction by his own criteria.

Get your tickets to The Summit on Nov. 18 where you will get to hear Jess speak about his experiences int he Mountains.

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PAFlete: Chris Wright

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Interview by Kevin Machtelinckx

As you grew up, was climbing on your radar at all? If not, what was? What did you think you wanted to do with your life?

The short answer on this one is no—I had no idea what climbing was. I guess like the rest of the non-climbing public I may have been vaguely aware that it was a thing people did, but it wasn’t a thing anyone I knew did so when I discovered it I remember asking myself why nobody had told me, because I thought it was the most amazing thing I’d ever done. Growing up in Northeastern Pennsylvania I had an appreciation for outside in that I spent countless hours playing in some beautiful woods as a kid, skateboarded and snowboarded obsessively in high school, but I think by growing up where I did all I really knew was that I wanted to get out. I left Mountaintop, which is about as small as it sounds, when I went to college and, even though Manhattan wasn’t that far away physically, it felt like the opposite of a small town in the Poconos. I went to study film production and I thought I wanted to travel to make movies, but in the end I’ve sort of come to realize that what I really wanted was just to see the world, to share meaningful experiences with people, and to maybe work with those people to make some stories. So in a sense what I’m doing now isn’t all that far off.

Was there a moment or experience for you that made you think “Climbing/alpinism is what I want to do with my life”?

I can’t remember a single moment of inspiration so much as I can remember the feeling after just going out for the first time. I had a buddy in college who was a climber, and one day he just asked if I wanted to go rock climbing. I remember saying sure, not knowing anything about it and of course not knowing that the Gunks, where we were headed, was a world-class climbing area. I just remember asking what to wear. Al told me to wear normal clothes, but I somehow didn’t believe him and wore gym shorts. Anyway, I remember going out to Pete’s Kill and hiking like a half an hour to the top of the cliff and watching Al rig some ovals and webbing around a tree. We dropped the rope down, and not knowing how to rappel (or even that that was what we would have done if we’d had a clue), we walked all the way back around to the base. Then we’d top-rope these crazy steep routes and go swinging off the routes into the trees, laughing and I’m sure looking like complete idiots. Then of course we’d walk all the way back around, move the rope to a different tree and do it all again. And yet I don’t remember feeling self-conscious about it at all. I just remember thinking, “This is fun. I wish I’d known about this earlier, because damn, this is fun.” After that it was all over. As soon as I became aware that people went ice climbing I wanted to do it, and as soon as I saw what alpinists were I wanted to be one, and for me I think even when I was just learning for some reason I just assumed that the end goal was to go someplace to do big new routes. As my climbing progressed of course I found out that not everyone shared that vision, but I was lucky to learn from a lot of great folks and have awesome partners early on, to survive my own idiocy and here we are.

Photo: Lacey Gibbet

You are a self-described ‘avid first-ascensionist’. What advice do you have for those of us who aspire to similar dreams?

That’s a tough one, because on the one hand I want to tell people to just buy the ticket and go, and at the same time I can’t say that’s exactly what I did. As I said, I guess I always knew that I wanted to climb big things, but I think since I didn’t start until I was maybe 20 (I’m 34 now) I knew I had a lot to learn. I was just figuring it all out as I went along, and I was lucky to climb with folks who helped me hone the skills I needed, whether through big-walling in Yosemite, doing the same in winter, ice climbing, guiding – which of course hones your mountain sense by putting you out there so many days in a year, especially on days you don’t really want to go out, going on big (for us) alpine trips to the Rockies, and plugging into the incredible community of climbers and guides who called Bend home at that time. Through those connections it felt like I put in enough time to be proficient in most disciplines, and I just happened to meet a local hardman named Mark Deffenbaugh—who I think will end up being remembered as prolific in our little Oregon climbing community; you’ll see his name on new routes all over, from Ozone to Beacon to Smith and a million other little-known spots in Central Oregon—and become buddies with him at just the right time in my life. He and I are still friends, but honestly I say I didn’t just buy the ticket and go because it was Mark that not only opened my eyes to the possibilities, but took me under his wing and taught me the craft of new routing. He taught me everything from how to see a line to how to place a bolt, and he taught me an appreciation for the craft of opening routes. Going out with him I started doing new, mostly small rock routes at home in Oregon, but it helped me to see the way and I took that with me to the mountains. So I guess what I’m trying to say is that I want to encourage anyone with the skill and motivation to just get out there and do it, but I also know that part of the community, and the kind of mentorship you just can’t really experience without engaging with people who can help you see the big picture.

Sometimes you just need someone to help point you in the right direction, you know? Then it’s up to you, and you really do just have to go do it. You’re probably going to go screw it all up at some point in the process of learning some of the lessons that just have to come the hard way, but that’s kind of just how it is. Failure is a part of doing big things, but you still have to go out there and fail, and hopefully it’s going to make you stronger, make you and your partners closer, and get you that much closer to your dreams. On that note, I’d love to offer whatever help I can to anyone who wants it. I’m at least good at getting excited. Best piece of advice I can give actually is one that Mark gave me years ago, which is that you’ll never try harder than you will on your own routes. I didn’t get it at the time, and maybe it’s not the same for everybody, but it’s true for me. I’ll walk away from your god-awful scary hard route that took years to do as soon as I decide the holds are too small or that it’s too cold. I’m not going to kill myself for a hard repeat. But if it’s new, if it’s my god-awful scary sufferfest, then I’m all in.

Photo: Graham Zimmerman

On your site, you talk about food, beer, and coffee a lot. I think many of us can relate. When you’re in the mountains, how much do you think about those things?

I’m terrible and always thinking about food. Graham and I have found we’re polar opposites in that regard. He makes this absolutely foul, but nutritionally ace brown powdered mix I’ve dubbed “techno-sludge” and could basically live off it in the mountains. I’m lusting after cheeseburgers, and will literally read food articles in the NY Times while I’m in basecamp. I don’t know why I torture myself I guess, but needless to say we take obscene amounts of chocolate and cheese and sausages (Olympic Provisions if possible) and try to do the best we can. At some point even a six-week old unrefrigerated Babybel seems like a treat, but I’m always craving something. I’d take a cheeseburger right now if you had one.

We all have important figures in our lives that support us (or don’t) in these activities that we choose to engage in. Can you talk a little bit about who those figures are for you and why they are important with regards to the decisions that you make?

I’ve always felt really supported by my friends, my family and especially my partners. I know my parents worry and don’t really get it, but they still try their best to be supportive. I have the most amazing friends though, and even if they’re not climbers they’re people who aren’t afraid to go for it, and so they get it and they’re with me. With my climbing partners I just make sure to go out with people I love and with whom I see eye to eye. It’s a fine line encouraging someone to hang it all out there and give everything they’ve got, yet to do it mindfully and carefully, but somehow that’s what we do. That’s what you want in your climbing partners, someone who pushes you, but also pushes you to make good decisions and come home safely. To me that’s going to equal success in the long game.

Ok… I have to ask. What is your go-to beer in summer? Winter?

I’m a total beer dork, so I can’t peg it to just one, no matter what the season. What I can say is that I always take my Oregon beer snobbery with me, for good or ill, and we brew good beers in all seasons. Funny thing though is that when I’m here for a while sometimes I get burned out on all the hops and what sometimes feels like an arms race to make beer taste like pine trees, but after a few months away (especially in France), just gimme the pine trees and plug it into my veins. If I had to say though, I’d take a Boneyard RPM IPA or a Weihenstephaner Weissbier in summer, and in winter I’ll go for a Jubelale on Nitro at Deschutes, preferably on Monday so I can get a Local’s Night deal on a cheeseburger. With fries.


Get tickets now for the Portland Alpine Fest.

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PAFlete Spotlight: Graham Zimmerman

Portland Alpine Festival | Nov. 13–18, 2017

See the Portland Alpine Festival’s full lineup of 8 athletes here!




 by Darrin Gunkel

 How did you first discover climbing?
I grew up in the Seattle area and was first exposed to climbing through a club in high school and through one of my dad’s friends who took me up the south spur on Mt. Adams when I was about 15. That was my initial exposure to climbing. It was kind of a slow start; I think I got more and more into it as I went through high school. My parents signed me up for a course with the American Alpine Institute to learn the proper techniques to deal with mountain terrain. That gave me the idea of what’s possible for the mountains of the world and got me really fired up. I’ve been pursuing those goals ever since.

What is an important lesson you learned early in your climbing career?
The first expedition I ever went on was to the Kyrgyzstani Pamirs. I’d been reading a lot of Mark Twight at the time and gotten fired up on climbing without much gear, going really, really light. The big climb that we did there was on something like an 1,800 meter face, a big technical thing. I had a partner who wasn’t as experienced as I was, and we really didn’t bring much with us. For three days, I think we brought five cams, a rack of wires, a couple of ice screws, a single rope and just sleeping bags. We got away with it. It was sweet, no big deal, but I look back on that and think, o.k., you got away with that one, but in the future we need to bring more stuff. So if a storm comes in, you end up not being able to get through some of the terrain on the mountain, or whatever, you can either hunker down or get off the mountain quickly. If we had to get off that thing for whatever reason, it would have been quite the ordeal. Having a slightly heavier pack is o.k.
That’s a bold statement these days.

We still carry really, really small packs, but you still should probably have a tent if you’re putting up new routes in the greater ranges. [laughs]

Did you have a climbing mentor?
There have been so many people who have been climbing mentors over the years. Mark Kendrick down in New Zealand initially got me into some of the first big, steep alpine routes I did. Mark Allen is somebody who taught me a lot when I was younger and then later turned into one of my primary climbing partners. Steve Swenson these days has been guiding me through the art of dealing with big mountains in Pakistan. All these folks I couldn’t have done it without.

It’s one of the really cool things about climbing: we have a lot of opportunities for mentoring, and there’s a lot of patience in the community for dealing with people who are learning. There’s a recognition that you cannot do these things without a lot of knowledge, and so sharing knowledge is super important. I’m really grateful for that and those folks who have helped me over the years.

You’ve climbed all over the world, was there one region, or even mountain, in particular that originally drew or inspired you?
It’s funny. I very specifically remember seeing photos of the Baltoro region of Pakistan when I was in high school in some picture book. I remember seeing those images and thinking, “That looks really sweet. It would be totally unreal to go and climb in mountains like that.” I did my first expedition to Pakistan two years ago and so it’s coming full circle. Right now, my current inspiration is what I was inspired by when I was younger: the Karakoram. It’s a place that really gets me fired up now and has gotten me fired up for a long time.

 Was there a moment early on when it hit you that climbing was IT? 
I was originally born in New Zealand, lived there until I was four, and moved back when I was 18 to attend university. I had a bunch of time to climb before I started school, and it was at that point when I started to really zero in on climbing. Up to that point, my main mountain sport had been skiing—I did a lot of that and had a lot of fun with it—but by the time I moved to New Zealand, it was pretty clear that climbing is what I wanted to pursue. So, I didn’t actually bring skis to New Zealand and just brought a climbing kit. This guy Mark Kendrick, who I mentioned earlier as a mentor, and I were both living in Mt. Cook village, a little town beneath Mt. Cook in the central South Island. He asked me if I wanted to go climb the south face of Cook. It was something way out of my league. I told him as much and he just said, “I think you’ll be fine. I’ll lead all the hard pitches. It’ll be fine.” I really had a hard time on it. I didn’t fall or anything like that, but I remember being totally worked. We wrapped it up and it went pretty well and I remember it as being a sign, ‘O.k. This is something I’m capable of and this is something I really want to do.’ So I zeroed in on the pursuit of big mountains at that point. I still had to go to school, but it’s what I wanted to do in the long term.

Real world activities are always intruding!
[Laughs] Yeah. Unfortunately you still have to do all that stuff for better or for worse!

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PAFlete Spotlight: Dawn Glanc

Portland Alpine Festival | Nov. 13–18, 2017

See the Portland Alpine Festival’s full lineup of 8 athletes here!



by Kristie Perry
Long before she started winning ice climbing competitions at the Ouray Ice Festival, Dawn Glanc (pronounced “glance”) was a straight-A student in search of a better physical outlet than softball—one of the few sports available to high school girls in the flat lands of the Cleveland, OH, suburb where she grew up. One outlet she found was Whipp’s Ledges, an outcropping of sandstone cliffs in a nearby park. “That was my first exposure to climbing,” Glanc says. At the time, it was mostly just “goofing off and partying with friends. We would scramble all over the place.”
Upon graduating from high school in 1993, Glanc set her sights on becoming an aerobics instructor and enrolled at Kent State University. Everything changed after a boyfriend introduced her to top-roping at the cliffs of Whipp’s Ledges. “I found that using the ropes was a much better idea. I fell in love with climbing instantly.
“I thought, ‘If someone would pay me to do this, I would climb all the time.’ With this mantra, I made climbing my life. Every career choice, relationship choice, and personal action I’ve made since then has revolved around climbing.”
In 1996, at the age of 21, she left Ohio for the Black Hills of South Dakota where she could pursue climbing and a degree in Outdoor Education. There she honed her rock skills and learned to ice climb. 
“Living in the Black Hills I had some of the best mentors and role models a girl could ask for,” Glanc says. “My partners in the Hills were with me through some of my most formative years. They inspired me and gave me the confidence to push my comfort bubble. They also taught me a lot about humility.” 
In 2004, Glanc was on the move again, this time to Bellingham, WA, where she embarked on a career, not as an aerobics instructor, but as an AMGA-certified mountain guide. Over the next eight years she climbed and guided clients of all ages and abilities throughout the western United States and Canada. 
Glanc now resides in Ouray, CO, where she is co-owner of Chicks Climbing and Skiing, an organization dedicated to educating and empowering women through mountain sports. While she is well-known for efforts to promote the advancement of women and girls in climbing, she has the same advice for all beginning climbers—male or female, young or old: 
“Hire a guide to teach you how to climb and how to use the proper systems. Climbing is a life-threatening sport, don’t have some random person teach you. It’s your life, so be proactive in your own safety.”
Over the years, Glanc has climbed in France, Norway, Greece, Montenegro, Croatia, Sardinia, and Iceland. She enjoys demonstrating her mettle through competition and for many years was a frequent winner at the Ouray Ice Festival competitions, placing first in the women’s division in 2009 and 2011, second place in 2007 and 2012, and third place in 2010. She also won first place in mixed climbing at the Teva Winter Games in 2012 in Vail, CO.
Glanc says stubbornness and tenacity are what get her through most climbs. “The resistance to falling and the unwillingness to do the moves again are the secrets to my success.”
Despite her clear climbing prowess, Glanc is honest about her struggles. “I have to consciously quiet my brain if I want to send something,” she says. “I can’t tell you how many times songs in my head, conversations from below, or other distractions keep me from focusing up.”
Glanc is best known for her ice and mixed climbing skills and calls rock climbing her “demon.” 
“I don’t mention my rock climbing much because I am just an average climber if you take my ice tools and crampons away.” 
Glanc is such a big fan of her hometown of Ouray that in 2015 she decided to run for City Council. “I feel that citizens need to be involved if they want their community to thrive. I really enjoy the opportunity to serve and plan to run for a second term.”
Dawn is sponsored by Outdoor Research, La Sportiva, Black Diamond, Mountain Hardwear, Blue Water Ropes, and Julbo Sunglasses.
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PAFlete Spotlight: Marcus Garcia

Portland Alpine Festival | Nov. 13–18, 2017

See the Portland Alpine Festival’s full lineup of 8 athletes here!

 

by Karoline Gottschild

You began climbing in your early teens, and started adding incredible and death-defying exploits soon thereafter. Do we have to go back to diapers and toddlerhood to find you holding on to someone’s hand for safety, nervous or otherwise feeling incapacitated in some ‘non-badass’ ways?
I was very athletic right from childhood into adulthood. I recall one time, when we were about 11, my brother and I saw a zip line on a TV show. We promptly found some rope and made our own line. This didn’t go so well…but it was the start to new adventures. In high school, I played soccer, a runner, track and field, football, and power-lifting.
Could you tell us a bit about your early, formative years? Did you spend your entire youth in Texas? Did your parents or other family members positively influence your athletic direction in any way? 
Growing up in Texas, I had to learn to be diverse. My brother and I grew up with divorced parents that moved around a lot. We were extremely poor, and we had to make do with what we had. I would see my mom work hard to give us what she could, and she always told me ‘you can do anything if you just put the work into it’. This stuck with me. Both my parents were once athletes, but growing up, I lived mostly with other family members, in a small town. 
My family influenced me; but the neighborhood kids affected me the most. We grew up like in the movie The Sandlot. We always were doing something, but our biggest activities were seasonal sports. We played football, soccer, explored in the creeks, and basketball—every day after school and all summer long. 
Once I started high school sports, my coaches became my mentors. They gave me direction and support. During these years, my parents could not afford to house me, so I ended living with my uncle. 
He gave me the security that I had a real home to come home to. He also encouraged me in all of my athletic endeavors. Some mornings, he would get up at 5 a.m. and take me to school for the power-lifting workout that I did before my track workout. I also did my first climbing road trip with my uncle. But to be honest, it was the support I got from the kids I grew up with that truly helped define me as an athlete. Friends can have a monumental effect on a young person’s life. I am trying to give that back with the Youth Climbing Team program I have. 

I know you mentioned before that one of your most memorable climbs was in 1997 climbing on El Capitan. Your late friend and mentor fell 70 feet below you, zippering all equipment on the way down. Yet once the dust and rock bits settled—and even—thanks to El Nino—the ice—you both forged ahead and made summit. If that isn’t badass, I don’t know what is, yet to others it might seem foolhardy. What elements in your upbringing and gave you the quality of mind and spirit to prepare you for such focus, determination and character?
I wrote this quote, “one must learn to live with fear and not in fear,” and I took that to heart. Years later, after that defining trip on El Capitan, I wrote it down. I still live by it … and suffering … this is what makes us sometimes.
Perhaps, at this point, we need to define the term badass. After all, one person’s badass could be another person’s “day at the office.” How would you define it?
To me ‘badass’ is a term given to someone who is in control of his or her own adventure. Anyone can be a badass as long as they accept to live with fear and not in fear. Learn to live as if you are going to die tomorrow, and dream as if you are going to live forever. This is my motto in life.
Clearly, given that I have been asked to interview you, the Mazamas considers you a badass. Do you view yourself the same way? 
I do not consider myself a badass. I just enjoy doing what I do. I do what I do for myself, as it gives me life and meaning. I am a visionary—like the character in the movie Walter Mitty. This helps me see what is possible; then it is up to me to make it happen. 
Who are the main people in your life you look up to, or who have played a significant role in making you the man and climber you are today?
As I mentioned, my mom, my uncle, the neighborhood kids, and the coaches played an important role in my young life. Later, this would be Brian Clark and my late friend Jimmy Ray Forrester. Being tied together into the same ropes for years, you build a lasting bond and a trust that you know that person has your life in their hands. This allows you to climb at your best. Jimmy was a purist that would never give up. Our epic big wall trip on The Shield was a moment in my climbing life that defined me. That is what climbing is about for me, the adventure of the unknown. 
What is it about climbing that gives you that “rush” or that feeling of connection to life that your other sports such as soccer did not?
The adventure I go on that tests me both physically and mentally. I love the fact that it is up to me to get the rope up to the anchor, and sometimes to get us back safe.
What different direction do you think your life would have taken if you had not discovered climbing at 13? You also had a soccer scholarship at one point, but then the school dropped its program. Was this event pivotal in starting your climbing career?
I would have tried to be a professional athlete. I was big runner and a multi-sport athlete. Recently I found a quote in my high school yearbook: “My dream is to be an Olympic athlete and to have a gym of my own.” Funny, here I am—I’m a climbing gym owner, and I coach the USA Youth Ice Climbing team as an Olympic Development Team.
What do you think were some of the major life changing events that you are grateful for, but that also were the toughest? 
One life changing event occurred during that epic climb Jimmy and I had on The Shield. After we had cleared the ice from our ropes, sipped the water off the lichen covered wall, and popped a few of our last M&M peanuts, we looked at each other and made a promise that if anything were to happen to one of us, that we would each bring the other home. Well, after we topped out, I fractured my foot, which dropped me face first in a pool of water that nearly drowned me. I was too weak to push myself up. Jimmy rushed over and pulled me out of the water. He then kept a watchful eye on me during our entire decent. 
When I heard of his death that occurred during an annual trip to El Portero Chico, Mexico, (a trip that he and I did together for years establishing routes ground-up, until I became a father), I happened to be in Fort Worth visiting family. Jimmy was from Fort Worth too. That’s when I got the call. I had to do the hardest thing in my life. I drove to his mom’s house, who had not seen me in a long time. I was like her other child. When she opened the door, she knew instantly. Still to this day, I find myself in tears telling this story. (And this November will be the 11th year anniversary.)
After I told his mom, I immediately got on a flight with just the clothes on my back and a camera. I had to fly down to ID him and claim the body, and escort his body back home. I kept my promise we made years ago. I also had to climb the route that he died on, to retrieve parts of him and his belongings. I buried what the Mexican rescue team left behind under the Virgin Mary that stands over the approach to the route. 
You have indicated in other interviews that climbing allows you to focus and to find your spiritual balance to take on life’s other daily challenges. What do you consider are your most trying ‘daily challenges’? 
“Adulting.” I am going through a divorce. I have daughter who lives in Atlanta, Georgia now. Trying to be a long-distance parent over the phone is hard. I am also in the process of rebuilding my gym after we were forced to move out of the building we were in for years. Dealing with politics and not having real answers for the members of the gym who are waiting patiently. 
I have seen your videos climbing desert towers, ice climbing and setting unprecedented new routes. Has having a family changed your priorities and risk-assessment?
We just had a good friend suffer a serious climbing accident. My daughter and my soon to be ex-wife were upset. Because my daughter is now old enough to understand what could happen, I talked to her about it. I want her to understand that these things happen, but that I am always thinking about her. I also have a check system that keeps me safe. 
Some climbers eat, sleep and … well eat and sleep climbing! They live out of their cars, or from their sponsor’s, family’s or significant others’ largesse. I’m sure a lot of people think of them as the real badasses. What is your opinion?
To me what defines you as the real badass, is what you do with your life. It’s not what you have, or what you sleep in, but it’s the adventure you dream and live.
Is perhaps the ultimate badass someone like you—a person who has defied death on many occasions, someone who has managed by skill and luck (probably by a serendipitous combination of both) to reach incredible new summits, to develop popular new routes, create a family, and a successful climbing-related business? Well, unless you object—I think that will be my definition of a bad ass: Marcus Garcia. 
Thank you for your words. I wish my marriage would have been successful, but life has a way of teaching and showing us that we have and will always be learning and growing. This is what makes us successful. To be able to persevere in life.

Is there something else you would like me to ask you or that you’d just like to share to give a more complete picture of who you are or strive to be?
To me being a mentor is the most rewarding part of my life. I love teaching and sharing my skills and dreams with others. It is up to the more skilled climbers like myself, and the gym owners, to help educate others, and to share what climbing is about—the life adventures that climbing takes us on. Climbing to me is a lifelong sport. In a way, it is a way of life for me. It helps me to understand life and deal with the challenges it presents.
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PAFlete Spotlight: Katie Bono

Portland Alpine Festival | Nov. 13–18, 2017

See the Portland Alpine Festival’s full lineup of 8 athletes here!

by Jonathan Barrett

Katie Bono grew up as a cross country ski racer, and self-identifies as a climber/athlete as a result. It is an attitude and point of view that helped create her most publicly visible climbing achievements: women’s speed records on both Rainier and Denali. However, it is her unbridled enthusiasm for climbing that has carried her forward and opened many doors for her.

At Dartmouth, where she went to college, there was an overlap between the Nordic skiers and the climbers. It was through those connections that she found her own passion for climbing. In the summer of 2008, between her sophomore and junior year, she went with friends to climb her first multi-pitch, Dolomite Wall on Cannon. The route sees few ascents, perhaps because one guide to the area describes it as, “one of the more challenging and exposed free climbs on Cannon. Runouts, micro wires, and loose rock are the norm.” When she left the base, she thought to herself that she didn’t need a headlamp. Ultimately she and her friends had a minor epic when time ran out and she discovered that “sharing” a headlamp ostensibly means walking down in the dark. While some might have been scared off, Katie was hooked by the experience. She continued to learn and grow as climber, and she fed off these climbs that tested her body and her willingness to suffer. Several years later in the Canadian Rockies on her first true alpine climb, she learned that a 20% chance of precipitation has a different meaning than the American Southwest. Significant snowfall resulted in an overnight, exposed bivy on the summit of Castle Mountain after 20 pitches of climbing. Again, her love for the climbing was cemented by an experience that others might find harrowing.

As a climber/athlete she approaches the discipline of climbing with discipline. “I really like trying hard, to find where my limits are,” she says, noting that the mental challenges of climbing are as important to her as the physical ones. Along the way, as she progressed, there were many people who influenced her and supported her, not the least of which being Will Gadd and Sarah Hueniken when she lived in Canmore. Ultimately she credits much of her success to her enthusiasm. It was something that Gadd recognized and which was born on the cliffs of New Hampshire. She feels very fortunate that a wide range of talented climbers saw in her a sincere passion for the sport and were willing to foster that passion even when her talents as a climber were still just emerging.

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Volunteering in a K9 Search and Rescue Unit

Article and photos by Kevin Machtelinckx

As the Pacific Northwest’s summer heats up and people begin their annual exodus outside, we’re bound to see stories of lost and missing hikers in the Gorge, around Mt. Hood, in the Jefferson Park Wilderness, and many others. Search and rescue volunteers are called upon regularly to provide the manpower for searches that often span hundreds of acres. Although many volunteers have important support roles to perform, K9 units are the ones scouring the forest floors for scents and clues leading to the missing persons.

On a sunny Sunday afternoon, I was lucky enough to sit in on a K9 training session put on by Mountain Wave Search and Rescue (SAR). Brian McLaughlin, Barbara Linder, and Terri Hines, all K9 handlers, gave me a behind-the-scenes look into what it takes to become a handler and participate in these missions as K9 SAR volunteers.

Kevin Machtelinckx (KM): What is your dog’s name, age, breed, and specialty?
Brian McLaughlin (BM): Schooch, 3 year-old Australian Shepherd, air scent.
Barbara Linder (BL): Opal, 3.5 year-old Labrador retriever, air scent.
Terri Hines (TH): Rook, 3 year-old Belgian Shepherd, human remains detection.
KM: What does your dog’s specialty mean?
BM: Scent is wafting off each of us all the time. When outside, that scent is carried by the breeze. So there is an ever-widening path of scent wafting downwind from everybody outside (generally called a scent cone). My job is to navigate the area I’m given to search in such a way that we’ll intersect the scent cone of anybody that might be out there. My dog’s job is to react to that scent cone in a trained chain of behavior that includes following the scent to the subject, returning to me, alerting me that he’s found a subject, then leading me back to the subject he’s found.
TH: A Human Remains Detection (HRD) dog is trained to do just that, find human remains in any phase of decomposition and alert the handler of its location. The dogs are trained to recognize the smell of human remains versus animal remains or any other distracting odor that may be a normal attraction to a dog. They are trained and able to detect human remains on land, underwater, or buried for concealment.

 KM: Walk me through what a dog and trainer have to go through to become certified.
BM: Air scent training begins with what we call a runaway. The first runaways are simply having a training partner wave the dog’s favorite toy in front of him, making a bunch of noise and generally acting a little crazy and animated, and then turn and run away 10-20 yards, turn back around, and call the dog. The dog runs to the subject and is grandly rewarded with praise and play and maybe a treat. Doing this a few times makes running to that subject the most fun and exciting game the dog could ever hope to play. Then when the dog reaches the subject, you start calling the dog back to you to get the reward and praise. Before long, the dog understands that this new variation of the game is great too. Then you ask the dog to alert you somehow (Schooch pulls a special tug-toy off my belt to indicate he found someone) to get the reward and praise. Soon, the dog learns that he needs to do the alert to get his reward. Finally, after alerting, the subject calls the dog back to him, the handler follows him, and it’s a grand party back at the subject. You do this over and over again, and the dog learns to do that sequence of trained responses when playing the runaway game. Then, the subject starts ducking behind a tree when he runs away, so he’s out of sight when the dog is released. As time progresses, the subject ducks further and further aside and hides further and deeper from the last point he was seen. Then the handler turns the dog away as the subject runs, so he can’t see where the subject went at all. I always mark the beginning of the game by putting the search harness on the dog so when it comes out, Schooch knows it’s play time. Soon, there doesn’t have to be a runaway at all – the game has progressed to where the harness goes on, and the dog is ready and anxious to start playing the search game. All the training culminates in a certification test which is a demonstration of your ability to navigate a 120-acre piece of wilderness as outlined on a map with your dog to find a hidden subject within four hours. Dog and handler will have demonstrated their ability to do that day or night, rain or shine, prior to the certification test being scheduled.

 KM: What kind of training do the handlers themselves have to have in order to go out on searches?
BM: In our group, handlers need to be OSSA Type II certified. That means they need to demonstrate the ability to build fire and shelter with what they carry, navigate unfamiliar wilderness areas with map/compass and/or with a GPS, basic first aid and CPR skills, understand the Incident Command System, basic radio communications, search types and methods. You need to carry gear and supplies to enable you to stay in the field for 24 hours with your K9 and potentially a subject. Our group trains anyone that is planning to be in the field on these skills. All K9 handlers are required to have this Type II certification to participate in a search with their dog.

 KM: What would you say has been the most difficult part of training your dog?
BM: What slowed our training down most was my lack of experience in training this kind of thing! Learning how to keep track of where I was and making sure to navigate my dog into potential areas of scent while paying attention to the dog and seeing/understanding his behavior took time. You learn to understand what small, seemingly insignificant pauses, glances, and gestures mean. You learn to see when your dog is trying to work out what he’s smelling and what direction that faint scent is coming from, and he learns that you are encouraging him to do that. As for problems that he had – I guess I’d say that it would be related to chasing squirrels and such (he’s tangled with skunks too!). To deal with that, we would spend lazy afternoons on our back deck, sitting on the loveseat, just watching the world go by until… a squirrel would skitter by on top of the fence. Schooch would leap from the deck and go tearing after that squirrel. I would leap from the deck and go tearing after Schooch! I was very gruff with him —in his face, “NO … NO …,” in a low loud voice. The first time I did that, it kind of scared him, because I generally don’t talk to him like that. The second time (a day or two later), I did it the same way, but he didn’t seem scared—just put out. The third time a squirrel went by Schooch tensed and prepared to jump off the deck, but he paused and looked back at me. I gave him a gentle “no, no.” He turned back toward the squirrel, paused, and lay down. Since then, a gentle “no, no,” is generally enough to dissuade him from squirrels, other dogs, etc. He gets a good round of praise every time my “no, no” results in him standing down.

 KM: How often do you and your dog participate in training exercises?
BM: Our group holds training sessions six times a month. We generally make it to all of them. I also do obedience training more or less constantly—every interaction I have with my dog is within the bounds of my obedience expectations. I also take him places to stretch his experience and his trust in me. For instance, taking him on elevator rides, through a crowded MAX platform, through the hustle and bustle of the crowd waiting to get into the zoo on a Saturday morning, riding on a MAX train, etc. Training like that has resulted in a dog that, when he’s nervous/anxious, is right close at my side. That’s right where I want him if he’s a little fearful or nervous, and I praise him big time for that.
KM: In your opinion, what is the most dangerous aspect of search and rescue for you and your dog?
BL: I don’t like to search in urban areas due to the risk of getting hit by a car because Opal can range out of sight. I have to be careful with her in the Gorge as she could easily cliff out with her focus on searching and not paying attention to the terrain.

 KM: What has been your most memorable rescue, call out, or training event since you started doing search and rescue with K9’s?
BM: My best example was when we were assigned to go up a trail in the Columbia River Gorge and hook up with another trail to follow back along a creek to base. The “trail” turned out to be over rock and scree fields with pitches that required ropes to get through and sections so narrow that you could look down to your left and your right to see cliffs and/or very steep slopes where one wrong step would be very costly. When we were 6 hours in, we had a team member who was struggling a bit with the terrain. We hit snow and decided not to continue. You really need to know your abilities, and it’s always OK to say no. After getting home after that one, I looked up that trail and discovered it is listed as one of the most extreme trails in Oregon. If I’d known that in advance, I probably would have declined, but I’m pleased that the whole team made it back safely.

 KM: What is one thing that you think people don’t realize when they think of search and rescue dogs?
BL: You don’t “buy” a SAR dog … you are a team and you bond from day one. It would be very difficult for another handler to search with my dog as one of the important aspects on a search is the ability to “read your dog.” During a search, you watch closely for behavior changes and work off those behaviors.
TH: When people see the dogs working I don’t think they realize the amount of training that we put into the dogs to get them ready for deployment. It’s typically many days and hours per week and it’s ongoing until the dog retires. While it is a job for the dog, it’s also like a big game to them, even to go out and find human remains.

 KM: Any final thoughts on the bond you’ve developed and shared with your dog?
BM: It’s amazing. Working with your dog—and relying on him—on such a regular basis on a task that has you out in the woods in strange places with your dog off leash, looking for people, and seeing him perform his task in the dark, in the rain, and in the snow, simply because he wants to please you and play the game—it’s amazing. There’s a two-way trust that develops. He trusts that you won’t put him into a situation that will hurt him, and you trust him that he will do his job no matter what. It’s all done for the play time at the end—there’s reward in that for me too.
BL: Opal is a very high drive lab and while we have had challenges along the way due to that drive, it has only bonded us together as a team even more. I love her commitment to work and I’m proud of her abilities and trust her to do her job when needed.
TH: I adopted Rook when he was just under 2 years old so I didn’t get to bond with him as a puppy. He had already been in at least two other households so I really had no idea what kind of life he had prior to me bringing him home. I think training and learning this skill together allowed us to bond faster than if we were not involved in SAR. There’s a lot of trust that is required between a K9 and handler, and without that special bond that you form I don’t believe that you can be a successful team.

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Saying Goodbye to Royal Robbins

by Mathew Brock, Library & Historical Collections Manager

The climbing community lost a guiding light when Royal Robbins passed away on March 15 at the age of 82. Mr. Robbins’ accomplishments as a rock climber, author, teacher, entrepreneur, environmentalist, and adventurer are legendary.

Early in the 1960s, he led the way for generations of climbers by advocating for a minimal use of bolts on climbs. In 1967—five years before the clean climbing movement of 1972—he imported and introduced the British idea of using nuts over pitons. This not only minimized the impact on rock faces, but opened climbers’ minds to using all of the rock’s natural features.

Considered one of the most influential climbers of the 20th century, Robbins mastered record-breaking ascents around the world. In the 1950s and 1960s, his legendary ascents on El Capitan made him world renowned and put Yosemite on the map as the climbing capital of America. He was not content to limit his climbing to the sunny confines of Southern California and Yosemite. He carried the Yosemite philosophy of ground-up non-siege climbing to the Alpine world with such climbs as the 1962 climb of the American Direct on the Aiguille du Dru in Chamonix, the 1963 Robbins Route on Mount Proboscis in the Logan Mountains of NWT, Canada, and 1969 ascents in the Kichatna Spires in Alaska.

Robbins wrote two pioneering books on climbing, Basic Rockcraft and Advanced Rockcraft. These two practical guides covered all the fundamentals of technical rock climbing. Looking more like a college professor, with his crew cut and horn-rimmed glasses, Robbins became rock climbing’s conscience. His writing reflected his no-nonsense approach to climbing that embraced holistic climbing and respect of the natural environment while disdaining the conventional conquering of mountains with pitons and bolts.

In 1957 Robbins, along with Jerry Galwas and Mike Sherrick, made the first ascent of the northwest face of Half Dome. Three years later, in 1960, he and a partner climbed the Nose of El Capitan as a continuous climb. His first ascent of the Salathe route of El Capitan made with Tom Frost and Chuck Pratt was his proudest accomplishment. Robbin’s efforts and those of his contemporaries helped usher in the golden age of climbing in the Yosemite Valley.

At the height of his climbing career, the Mazamas were fortunate to have Mr. Robbins as the guest speaker at the 1964 Annual Banquet. That year’s October Bulletin states, “With his excellent collection of slides, his sense of humor and unimpeachable climbing background Royal promises to be one of the most outstanding speakers at any Mazama banquet in years.” By all accounts, his presentation entitled, “High Rock Adventure” was very popular with members and the event sold out. Mr. Robbins returned forty-two years later and headlined the 2006 Mazama Annual Banquet.

In 1968 Robbins and his wife, Liz, launched Mountain Paraphernalia that sold casual climbing clothing and equipment. The company later became Royal Robbins. After his climbing career, Mr. Robbins turned to kayaking, earning renown for several first descents. Later in his life, Robbins published a three-part autobiography. To Be Brave, published in 2009, covers his birth, early years growing up in West Virginia and Los Angeles, and his introduction to climbing. Fail Falling, followed a year later in 2010, recounts the years between 1950 and 1957 and his climbs in California. Volume three, The Golden Age, 2012, covers his personal life, years in the Army, and the early ascents of El Capitan.

As a pioneering rock climber, Royal Robbins challenged the existing standards of the day and helped introduce all new climbing skills and levels of difficulty. Starting in the 1950s, Robbins established numerous new routes, many of them now revered classics on Yosemite’s Half Dome and El Capitan. He had great respect for the current generation of free climbers, and lived long enough to see the routes that took him days now done in hours.

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Vera Defoe: Remarkable Woman & Inspiring Leader

by Kate Evans

Vera Dafoe has been contributing to the Mazamas for 59 years as environmental activist, climb leader, role model, and member of many organizational committees. While she successfully led 152 Mazama climbs and summited 372 mountains, garnering the 16 Peaks, Redman, Parker, and Montague Awards, Vera is most likely known as the founder and curator of the Mazamas Museum. Vera Dafoe retired her ice axe this year at age 90 but is still an active Classics Member of the Mazamas.

Vera became involved with the Mazamas in her early 30s when she and two of her children attended the multi-day Oberteuffer’s Family Camp at the Log Lodge in July 1956. Vera asked Bill Oberteuffer if he thought she could climb Mt. Hood, and he said she could, but needed to get in shape. Twenty-two days after the camp on August 19, 1956, Vera struggled to the summit of Mt. Hood with 43 Mazamas. In 1957 she and Mazamas Pat Willner and Allison Logan Belcher climbed Adams and in 1958, Vera took the Mazama Basic School and summited Mount St. Helens.

Climb Leader and Role Model
Between 1958 and 1966 Vera was climbing more often leading a rope or being an assistant leader. Her first official Mazamas climb was Mt. Hoffman on a Yosemite outing in 1966. In the 37 years between 1966 and 2003 Vera led over 152 Mazama climbs and taught Basic School for many years. She also climbed in the Alps, Dolomites, Cascades, Sierras, Selkirks, Canadian Rockies, Tetons, Olympics, Wallowas, Sawtooths and Sierra Nevada, as evidenced by her impressive eight-page climb resume.

In an oral history interview with Doug Couch she describes her philosophy of leading as follows: “It was extremely important that the first time a person is trying it’s the most important time of all and they should succeed on that first time.” She also feels strongly that women and Explorer Post girls should see positive female role models. During the 1994 Centennial year she was serving on Executive Council and was dismayed that none of the Centennial climbs were being led by women; and so she stepped forth.

In 2003, at age 75, Vera led her last Mazama climb, and in 2005 she and Cloudy Sears—Vera’s daughter—ventured on Mt. Dafoe in the Nuit Range of the Coast Mountains of British Columbia. Mt. Dafoe was named by members of the Explorer Post to honor Vera’s “long-term contribution to the success of the Post.” At age 85 in 2012 Vera also joined climbs of Fay Peak, Mt. Pleasant, and First Mother with fellow Classic Ray Sheldon.

Vera gladly served on many Mazamas leadership committees through the years and was known for her insistence to do things right the first time. When Jack Grauer presented the Parker Cup to Vera in 1984 for the, “ … person judged to have rendered services of the greatest benefit to the club during the year,” he referred to Vera as “the conscience” of the Mazamas. Chris Mackert, former Mazama president, also calls Vera the Mazamas conscience for her integrity, ability to look at things critically and analytically, and her primary concern for the interests of the Mazamas.

Mazama Museum
Not only has Vera contributed to the Mazamas as a climb leader and role model, but she also created and has been the sole curator of the Mazama Museum since 1970—over 46 years. In her oral history Vera states that she started gathering historical equipment when she noticed there were, “… various pieces around and they were really museum pieces.” She cleaned the equipment, washed the clothing, and assigned catalogue numbers using a catalogue system she designed using the best museum standards. Folks began bringing artifacts to the clubrooms (our home prior to the Mazama Mountaineering Center), and the Mazama Museum began. She often requested objects for the museum, and according to long-time library volunteer Tom Dinsmore, Vera wasn’t bashful about asking for items, including posthumous requests.

Eventually items moved from Vera’s basement to the clubrooms on NW 19th street, and in 1985, following a clubroom renovation, Vera finally had two lighted cabinets to display museum items. In that year she had exhibits under four themes: snow climbing equipment such as ice axes, crampons and boots; old camping gear and pack sacks; Mazama awards and emblems; and skiing equipment.
Mazama Archivist Jeff Thomas often shared detective work with Vera and she was especially helpful with locating, obtaining, identifying, and cataloging climbing hardware and other items. Currently the museum has nailed boots, early climbing hardware, 36 alpenstocks, and 196 ice axes, including one given to William D. Hackett by Argentine dictator Juan Peron when Hackett climbed Aconcagua. Those of you who attended the Doug Robinson benefit for the library this fall also saw Ty and Marianne Kearney’s bicycle, which they took to the summit of Mt. Hood in 1946, and the magic lantern slides from C.E. Rusk’s 1910 Denali expedition, using the Mazamas 100 year-old Balopticon lantern slide projector—all part of Vera’s Museum legacy.

Our Library and Historical Collections manager Mathew Brock states that our library, archives, and museum are second only to the American Alpine Club’s and we have one of the “ … premiere mountain artifact collections in the United States.” Mathew also commented favorably on Vera’s “ … level of dedication and attention to detail, her professionalism, and her thoroughness and consistency for over 46 years.”

Since 1985, Vera has prepared creative displays of museum items, sometimes including her iconic marmots, and in 2001 she was recognized for her years of dedication with the Redman Cup, which honors a notable artistic contribution to the Mazamas. Barbara Marquam, in presenting the Cup, spoke of Vera’s captivating exhibit in 1999, the year Mallory’s body was found on Everest. Vera’s exhibit replicated photos of the equipment used by Mallory on Everest in 1924, ” … using strikingly similar gear from the Mazama Museum’s extensive collection to link our heritage with one of mountaineering’s most dramatic events. This display, together with more than 50 others Vera has created in 30 years of museum stewardship, showcase unique facets of the Mazamas and mountaineering culture and history. Vera captured our attention, tantalized our curiosity, kindled our imaginations and tickled our funny bones.”

The Redman Cup also honored Vera for her many Bulletin and Annual articles and other publications. Two articles in Off Belay show Vera’s playful, sometimes subversive sense of humor. One describes using “aerator sandals”, a.k.a. crampons, to aerate the lawn. In another, Female Anatomy and the Wind Chill Factor, a three-page, illustrated ”scientific treatise” explores wind chill hazards faced by the female climber, “ … during the performance of certain bodily functions.”

Environmental Activist
Vera earned the Montague Bowl for her conservation work both in and out of the Mazamas. Ray Sheldon called Vera a watchdog for environmental issues, and she is a self-described “constructive troublemaker.” Over the years Vera was involved in many environmental issues, such as fighting the expansion of Timberline and Meadows ski areas, protecting Silver Star, the responsible re-opening of Mount St. Helens after the eruption, beginning the Mazamas involvement with the annual beach cleanup, improving the water quality standards in Bull Run, and helping to achieve wilderness designation for the Menagerie area in the Willamette National Forest. There are two Columbia Gorge victories of which she is especially proud: defeating the Port of Cascade Locks’ plan for an aerial tram to the Benson Plateau, and her work as a Gorge Commissioner to federally protect the Columbia River Gorge.

Stewardship is core to Mazama values—conserving the mountain environment, protecting our history, and sustaining a healthy organization. As Mathew Brock states, “Vera has created a lasting legacy of preservation, both historical and environmental.” During this volunteer recognition issue of the Bulletin, we only thought it fitting to thank Vera for her years of leadership in the Mazamas. We hope that you will be able to join us to thank her in person at the Classics Luncheon on January 20.

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Honoring Fred Beckey’s Literary Achievements: On Display at The Summit

A display of Beckey’s works at The Summit at Revolution
Hall on Nov. 19.

by Mathew Brock, Mazama Library & Historical Archives Manager
While Fred Beckey may be known by most as the Northwest’s finest and most prolific climber, and a seminal figure in North American mountaineering, focus on his climbing career alone fails to capture his impact on, and contribution, to climbing. Over the course of seven decades, Fred has published a wide range of books, ranging from local and regional climbing guides, and historical treatises, to gripping personal narratives of his climbing adventures. His Cascade climbing alone provides a broad range of information (including history and geology for and astounding range of peaks, paving the way for countless amateur climbers and adventurers.

Fred Beckey begins his literary career with the Climber’s Guide to the Cascade and Olympic Mountains of Washington, published in 1949 by the American Alpine Club, the first comprehensive guide to Northwest peaks. After approaching the Seattle-based Mountaineers, the Alpine Club agreed to release a few thousand copies for a flat fee. A revised edition, as well as a supplement, followed in 1953, and again in 1960. In 1965 the Mountaineers published Beckey’s and Eric Bjornstad’s Guide to Leavenworth Rock Climbing Areas. The Challenge of the North Cascades followed in 1969 and is often praised as his best work. The book chronicles his more than three decades of climbing and exploring the North Cascade peaks and countless first ascents (his bold second ascent of the formidable Mt. Waddington as a teen (“used felt pullovers on tennis shoes”) being notable. Four years later, Beckey published the first volume of the Cascade Alpine Guide, Columbia River to Stevens Pass. Volume Two, Stevens Pass to Rainy Pass followed in 1977, and Volume Three, Rainy Pass to Fraser River, in 1981. The series became known affectionately as the “Beckey Bible,” or simply, the “Beckey.” Now in its third edition, the books remain as popular as ever. Between Vols. One and Two, Beckey published the Darrington & Index Rock Climbing Guide in 1976.

In 1999 Becky and long-time guide Alex Van Steen published Climbing Mount Rainier, highlighting fifty alternate routes to the summit. In 2003 Beckey finished his most expansive project to date, the 563-page Range of Glaciers. Published by the Oregon Historical Society Press, the books is a comprehensive accounting of the nineteenth-century exploration and survey of the Northern Cascade Range. Beckey traveled widely in researching the book, visiting archives and libraries across the United States and Canada. In 2011 Patagonia Books published Fred Beckey’s 100 Favorite North American Climbs, a coffee-table-sized magnum opus. The book, filled with hand-drawn topos, photographs, narrative description, and plenty of notes, chronicles Beckey’s detailed knowledge of the mountains and climb routes he knows and loves.

Fred Beckey’s body of literary work is amazing and, unfortunately, often overlooked. His decades- long effort to document and share, in print, his experiences and travels are truly remarkable and represent an absolutely critical contribution to the Northwest climbing and exploration canon.