Honnold has climbed, mostly without a rope, throughout much of the world on some of the globe’s toughest mountains. Despite living on what he describes as “the income of a moderately successful dentist,” he still prefers to live in his van, even when it’s parked in the driveway of his Las Vegas home. And after knocking off El Cap on June 3, 2017, at 9:28 a.m., how did he celebrate? By hanging for more than an hour on his Beastmaster Hangboard, a strip of hardwood with microscope indentions that he uses to build arm, finger and torso strength. Why the hangboard? Well, because he does this every other day as part of his training, and his epic climb just happened to occur on a training day.

So again, how could Honnold’s story even remotely feel familiar? 

Then I thought about “the smile.” When Honnold successfully executed the hardest part of his El Cap climb — an especially tenuous move called the Boulder Problem — he turned to one of the camera’s documenting the climb for the film “Free Solo” and flashed a huge grin. That grin, says Synnott and others who know Honnold, is rare. “You see that smile,” says Synnott, “you stand in the presence of that, it washes over you.”

Then it hit me. I haven’t necessarily seen that smile before, but I have seen that look, the “one that washes over you.”

The look

On our backpack trip into the Joyce Kilmer/Slickrock Wilderness a couple weeks back we were making our way down a particularly challenging stretch of the Slickrock Creek Trail. We were losing elevation at a dizzying rate — in one stretch, about 1,400 feet in less than a mile. The trail was overgrown, and it was criss-crossed by more than 30 downed trees — Joyce Kilmer-sized sentinels of ample girth. At one point, after a particularly challenging crossing, I looked up the trail expecting to looks of concern, at best, anger at the least. I didn’t see any Honnoldesque grins, but I what I did see surprised me. I saw people, many of whom were either retired or of retirement age, very focused on the task at hand. Not one person looked worried or defeated. All were in the moment. They knew a wilderness area would present challenges unlike what they’d seen hiking in a state park. That was why they were here: they were aware of the challenge, and they were embracing it.

Same thing a year earlier on our annual dive into Linville Gorge. A late start and a wrong turn left us a mile and a half from camp in waning light in the midst of a classic, homegrown Linville thunderstorm. We righted ourselves, then, a half hour later, wronged ourselves again. We ended up pulling into a makeshift camp at 11 p.m., low on water, wet, and five hours past feeding time. Yet the next morning, there was nary a word about the previous evening. Rather, everyone was eager for the day ahead. 

I feel this presence on local day hikes. Someone who’s never hiked 5 miles before, who’s never hiked in 85-degree heat, shows up because she wants to push her limits. The hike may not be easy, it may not be entirely enjoyable. But they do it and you can feel their sense of accomplishment.

Facing the ‘impossible’

Some argue that Alex Honnold lacks a sense of fear, that his brain is wired in such a way that he doesn’t experience fear. Honnold pooh-poohs the notion (and an MRI scan of his brain reported in Synnott’s book appears to back him up), saying he feels fear all right, he’s just better at managing it than most (which he does in part by being extremely prepared). If you want something bad enough, he says, you figure out how to make it happen.

That’s what resonated with me, with Honnold’s story. The people who do our trips aren’t, for the most part, athletes who’ve dedicated their lives to training for the impossible. Most have jobs and have to deal with the day-to-day of survival. But, like Honnold, they’re driven by that spark to feel, even for just an afternoon or a weekend, truly alive. To feel good about themselves in a way that binge watching the latest Netflix series or buying a Tesla can’t touch. 

To do for themselves what might seem, like the audacious free solo of a 3,000-foot rock face, the impossible.

* * *

‘Free Solo’ screening

To read more about our conversation with Mark Synnott about his book, “The Impossible Climb: Alex Honnold, El Capitan and the Climbing Life,” as well as a screening of the film “Free Solo” at the N.C. Museum of Art in Raleigh on Aug. 9, go here.

Join us for your next ‘impossible’ feat

Itching to find your Alex Honnold smile before the end of summer? We’ve got a great opportunity to test the hiker in you on a four-day hiking trip scheduled for Aug. 15-18 at the Standing Indian Recreation Area in the Nantahala National Forest of far western North Carolina. The trip includes two 11-mile hikes that both include stretches of the Appalachian Trail, waterfall hikes, camping and more. Learn more and sign up to join us here.

The post There’s a little Alex Honnold in you appeared first on GetGoing NC!.

Now, some sensible advice from Alex Honnold.
Alex Honnold!? The guy who climbed Yosemite’s Half Dome and Nose with no ropes, no protection at all!?
Ironic, isn’t it, that the guy who seems to embrace danger like Pooh embraces honey, would be chock-a-block full of sensible thoughts.
Yet last night at Raleigh’s Lincoln Theatre, Honnold, along with Sufferfest buddy Cedar Wright, entertained a standing-room-only house with tales of their two bloody buddy movies, “Sufferfest” and it’s sequel, “Sufferfest 2,” and insights more fitting of a tribal elder than a 27-year-old who’s arguably the most daring athlete on the planet.
Their appearance was part of The North Face Never Stop Exploring Speaker Series, sponsored locally by Great Outdoor Provision Co.
Not that their antics, on the surface, suggest a good deal of careful forethought.
“Sufferfest,” released in 2013, documented the pair’s quest to climb California’s 12 14,000-foot peaks, while this year’s follow-up involved climbing 45 towers in the Southwest. In both cases, they sweetened the adventure — and suffering — by mountain biking from climb to climb. Both adventures took about three weeks.
Last night, several months removed from S2, the duo joked their way through the trip.

After screening “Sufferfest 2,” Climbing Magazine Editor Shannon Davis, who moderated the event, asked about the pair’s “planning” for the trip. Would better preparation have made the journey easier?
“It would have killed the adventure,” Honnold said. The remark drew a laugh, but a knowing laugh from an audience thick with local climbers. (When mention was made of climbing earlier in the day at the local Triangle Rock Club, the crowd roared.)
Along the way, the pair discovered interesting bolts and other “safety devices” that had been set over the years. A favorite involved two nails embedded in mud and attached to bailing wire. After easily yanking the nails from their perch, Honnold quipped, “At least they had it anchored to this boulder.” He gave a light tug and the mud-dried boulder sheered off.
Wright said it didn’t worry him.
“I had a Honnold. If you have a Honnold with you, it’s an excellent safety device.”
Of an impossibly narrow squeeze-chimney high up one tower — a slit so narrow Wright said he had to compress his rib cage to get through — Honnold said he had prepared for it by sleeping under a Jeep.

Honnold, who has a Morgan Freemanesque eloquence, touched briefly on his reputation as a pioneering free-soloist — one who climbs the likes of Yosemite’s Half Dome and the Nose without protection of any kind. Honnold has said he loves the freedom and purity afforded by climbing without ropes. On a grand — and dangerous — scale, his rationale is similar to that of a fixie, a cyclist who has foresworn gears.
Unless you’re Honnold or one of the few other elite free climbers (Tommy Caldwell and Dean Potter, for example) his rationale can evoke a head scratch. In the case of Clif Bar, it provoked a case of nerves; the energy bar maker recently withdrew its support of Honnold, Wright and three other climbers, deeming them too risky. (Whether he was being sensible in not burning bridges or entirely sincere, Honnold called Clif Bar “a good company, their heart’s in the right place. We were just too risky for them.”)
Yet on that very subject is where the sensible soloist kicked in. In the Q&A following their talk, Honnold was asked, “What happens when you have a serious case of nerves.”
“If you have serious nerves,” Honnold quickly replied, “maybe that’s a good sign you shouldn’t do it. You don’t have to do anything.”
Honnold had his nerves tested once, in 2008 as he was close to topping out, sans protection, on 2,000-foot Half Dome. He’d just crossed a sliver of purchase called Thank God Ledge, when even those miniscule holds petered out. He was close to the top, so close, he told Outside Magazine, that he could hear hikers talking just above him, on the summit. His famous “mental armor” was exhibiting chinks. He took five minutes, got himself together and punched through to the top.
Despite the relentless nature of both Sufferfests — the constant beating of daily climbs, the 30- to 60-mile bike rides between them (often on dirt roads, occasionally on dirt roads turned to mud), the high winds, the electrical storms, the scorpion on a hold you really need — the pair didn’t rule out a third ‘fest.
“What’s really cool about these trips,” Honnold said, “is that you pack so much life into a few days.” You come away with so many memories.
To this audience, he made perfect sense.

* * *

Like us on Facebook and get health, fitness and outdoors news throughout the day.

GetGoingNC.com

Promote Your Page Too

The post The sensible Alex Honnold appeared first on GetGoing NC!.