Alone on the Wall: Alex Honnold and the Ultimate Limits of Adventure by David Roberts, Alex Honnold
Authors: David Roberts, Alex Honnold
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been fun in a different time and place. As I descended, I would occasionally find myself having a good time. And then suddenly the wind would pick up and I would realize that I had only been enjoying a brief reprieve. But I suppose that the wind and my fatigue combined to blunt all my other emotions. I just didn’t care as much. Everything to do with “real” life, including Stacey, seemed a little less critical. What really mattered was sitting down in a sheltered place and eating. And maybe sleeping.
••••
That evening, I met some friends for dinner in Las Vegas. In the bathroom of the restaurant, I washed my hands for the first time and discovered I had a blood blister on my left index finger, where I’d jammed it into the iron-oxide divot, stacked a finger and a thumb on top of it, and made that pioneering move up to grab the jug.I came back to the table and showed the blistered fingertip to my friends. It felt like a badge of courage.
That marathon day of veering emotions at Red Rocks was like a whole life in a nutshell. As it turned out, though, I didn’t wait for the rendezvous in Tucson. The next day I flew to Dallas, ostensibly to help Stacey pack for her move to L.A. But I really wanted to win her back. I basically re-wooed her. And it worked . . . for a while.
Two months later, we broke up—for the first time.
CHAPTER FOUR
WORLD TRAVELER
A LEX HAD PULLED OFF his three-route tour de force at Red Rocks in the same purist, private style that he had wielded on Moonlight Buttress and Half Dome. No one had witnessed his climbing on Rainbow Wall, Prince of Darkness, or Dream of Wild Turkeys, and only the folks with whom he had chatted at the trail-head around midday had any idea that he was up to anything special. But the word got out quickly. On Supertopo.com, veteran Yosemite climber Peter Haan—who in the early 1970s had dazzled his peers with first free ascents and roped solos of classic routes (using a complicated self-belaying system)—reported Alex’s Red Rocks feat on May 12, 2010, only fourteen days after Alex had battled his demons in gale-force winds on those sandstone walls.
The response was another medley of disbelief, astonishment, congratulations, and cautionary screeds begging Alex not to risk his life so cavalierly. “You messing with us, Peter?” wrote another Valley veteran, invoking the kind of incredulity that had led some to dismiss Moonlight Buttress as an April Fools’ Day hoax. But a believer posted, “This fella should try walking on water.” Anotherveteran weighed in: “Having done all 3 routes, this just makes me sick.”
Many of the responders expressed simple admiration. “Long live Alex Honnold,” cheered one. “Another amazing send by a super nice dude!” John Long, the Stonemaster who would bear on-screen witness to Alex’s genius in
Alone on the Wall
, posted simply, “Alexander the Great.”
The cautionary comments, however, verged on the avuncular. “I hope Alex is being careful, he’s such a great kid,” one observer ventured. “It seems that Alex has taken it to a new level only by cutting the safety margin drastically. I’d feel more comfortable if his solos were cracks [as opposed to small holds on otherwise blank walls]. One thing is for sure, he has courage beyond belief.”
So far in his career, the climbs that have won Alex the greatest acclaim have come in even-numbered years. Moonlight Buttress and Half Dome in 2008, Rainbow Wall in 2010, then other incredible breakthroughs in 2012 and 2014. Alex is aware of this pattern, referring to the odd-numbered years as periods of “consolidation.” But in some sense, this schema belies the nonstop virtuosity of Alex’s approach to climbing in all its forms.
In April 2009, for instance, Alex joined a team headed for Mount Kinabalu, at 13,435 feet the highest peak in Borneo. By its easiest route, Kinabalu is a tourist-thronged walk-up, but the mountain is actually a gigantic
••••
That evening, I met some friends for dinner in Las Vegas. In the bathroom of the restaurant, I washed my hands for the first time and discovered I had a blood blister on my left index finger, where I’d jammed it into the iron-oxide divot, stacked a finger and a thumb on top of it, and made that pioneering move up to grab the jug.I came back to the table and showed the blistered fingertip to my friends. It felt like a badge of courage.
That marathon day of veering emotions at Red Rocks was like a whole life in a nutshell. As it turned out, though, I didn’t wait for the rendezvous in Tucson. The next day I flew to Dallas, ostensibly to help Stacey pack for her move to L.A. But I really wanted to win her back. I basically re-wooed her. And it worked . . . for a while.
Two months later, we broke up—for the first time.
CHAPTER FOUR
WORLD TRAVELER
A LEX HAD PULLED OFF his three-route tour de force at Red Rocks in the same purist, private style that he had wielded on Moonlight Buttress and Half Dome. No one had witnessed his climbing on Rainbow Wall, Prince of Darkness, or Dream of Wild Turkeys, and only the folks with whom he had chatted at the trail-head around midday had any idea that he was up to anything special. But the word got out quickly. On Supertopo.com, veteran Yosemite climber Peter Haan—who in the early 1970s had dazzled his peers with first free ascents and roped solos of classic routes (using a complicated self-belaying system)—reported Alex’s Red Rocks feat on May 12, 2010, only fourteen days after Alex had battled his demons in gale-force winds on those sandstone walls.
The response was another medley of disbelief, astonishment, congratulations, and cautionary screeds begging Alex not to risk his life so cavalierly. “You messing with us, Peter?” wrote another Valley veteran, invoking the kind of incredulity that had led some to dismiss Moonlight Buttress as an April Fools’ Day hoax. But a believer posted, “This fella should try walking on water.” Anotherveteran weighed in: “Having done all 3 routes, this just makes me sick.”
Many of the responders expressed simple admiration. “Long live Alex Honnold,” cheered one. “Another amazing send by a super nice dude!” John Long, the Stonemaster who would bear on-screen witness to Alex’s genius in
Alone on the Wall
, posted simply, “Alexander the Great.”
The cautionary comments, however, verged on the avuncular. “I hope Alex is being careful, he’s such a great kid,” one observer ventured. “It seems that Alex has taken it to a new level only by cutting the safety margin drastically. I’d feel more comfortable if his solos were cracks [as opposed to small holds on otherwise blank walls]. One thing is for sure, he has courage beyond belief.”
So far in his career, the climbs that have won Alex the greatest acclaim have come in even-numbered years. Moonlight Buttress and Half Dome in 2008, Rainbow Wall in 2010, then other incredible breakthroughs in 2012 and 2014. Alex is aware of this pattern, referring to the odd-numbered years as periods of “consolidation.” But in some sense, this schema belies the nonstop virtuosity of Alex’s approach to climbing in all its forms.
In April 2009, for instance, Alex joined a team headed for Mount Kinabalu, at 13,435 feet the highest peak in Borneo. By its easiest route, Kinabalu is a tourist-thronged walk-up, but the mountain is actually a gigantic
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