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There’s a lot of talk these days about the future of climbing. What will it look like? Where are we headed? What are the limits of possibility? Pushing number grades is the easiest way to quantify growth, but there are so many other exciting ways to envision the advancement of our sport: big linkups, speed ascents and combining climbing with other disciplines like running or biking.
The style that has captured my imagination the most in recent years is big-wall free climbing. El Capitan has long represented the cutting edge of difficulty in this realm. But what if the highest level of difficulty could be achieved in one of the most remote corners of the world with a minimalist approach?
On my recent trip to Cochamó with Sean Villanueva O’Driscoll, I heard a lot about his recent ascent of the Mirror Wall. Sean has spent the better part of the past two summers in Greenland. Both times, he and his team sailed from Europe to the Skillebugt Fjord where they continued on foot, ferrying loads to the base of the wall, which towers 1,000 meters above the Edward Bailey Glacier—weeks of sailing and hiking just to get to the base of the climb. As I chatted with Sean, it struck me: This must be one of the world’s most audacious and demanding big walls, in a truly remote location. With solid rock and stunningly aesthetic climbing, Sean, Pete Whittaker, Sean Warren and Julia Cassou had the adventure of a lifetime. Their ascent was so bold and badass that most people can barely even fathom it.
Editor’s note: It’s really special to hear Sean talk about this place in his own words. I’d highly recommend listening to his interview with Chris Kalous for a fully immersive experience.
I saw the topo and pitch breakdown—it was insane. Their route, Ryu-shin, named in honor of the late Keita Kurakami, goes up the steepest, blankest section of The Mirror Wall. The team spent 18 days on the wall and managed to free many of the pitches, up to 8b R (5.13d). Sean showed me a picture of a crack high on the wall, which he dubbed The Magic Salathé Flame, that looked every bit as aesthetic and hard as Magic Line in Yosemite.
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What intrigued me most is that they left room for the future. While their trip was impressive in every way, they didn’t manage to free climb the entire route. Not because it was impossible, but because it was just a little too hard for them at the time.
I can’t help but wonder: Is there someone out there with the right combination of qualities to pull something like this off? It would take boldness, logistical motivation, an off-the-charts sense of adventure and next-generation climbing ability.
Sure, someone with vast resources could helicopter in gear and set up a bougie base camp. But the true challenge that captures my imagination lies in the minimalist and pure way Sean and his team did it: Sail for weeks, hike for days and give it hell.
The Mirror Wall isn’t in the cards for me this time, but maybe this can plant the seed for someone else. In an era where most mountains have been climbed with the help of porters, helicopters and planes, I think the most inspiring climbing comes from undertakings that adhere to high ethical and environmental standards, expanding the scope of what’s possible while keeping the soul of climbing intact. Climbing might always be shaped by the people with the strongest fingers and the best training. But we get to make the rules, so why not emphasize exploration, simplicity and vision over the pursuit of pure difficulty?
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