Unroped

The halo of Ward Robinson’s headlamp swept down onto me as he doubled over at the waist to brush snow from a key handhold. I knew that his pack would be shifting and pressing onto his shoulders and neck like an opponent’s hands making it harder yet for him to breathe the cold and emaciated air of the Himalayan predawn.

I Just Want to be Held

A mess of gear lay strewn before us in Pakistan’s Charakusa Valley. Too much stuff. I stared 8,000 feet up at K7, where we would soon receive a righteous ass-whuppin’, then looked at Scott DeCapio and fluttered my big doe eyes.

“What do you think about bringing just one sleeping bag?” I asked.

Bread Crumbs in the Dark

We were already climbing in our down jackets and softshell pants; we had nothing warmer left in our packs. The pitch above us rippled without a clear line to follow, merely some wavering ice tendrils like the veins of fallen leaves, the sheen of verglas like a fading forest trail.

The Inspiration Behind the Upcoming Film 180° South

I first met Yvon Chouinard in the water. He sat out the back at a small pointbreak quietly waiting for sets. For an hour I just watched him surf, and there was something about him that reminded me less of a businessman, or even an environmentalist, and more of my dad and uncles, who were pipeliners and cowboys.

Marrow of the Bone

This is my first time camping. I’m in the tent, in my sleeping bag, and next to me, my friend James Mercer is breathing peacefully. Other than that ... silence like I have never experienced. Yet it’s somehow familiar.

Reñihué

Onboard the Cahuelmo, the expanse of Golfo de Ancud has tightened as we enter the narrow fjord of Reñihué. The sky is abnormally cloudless for these parts, the water calm, and the air eerily still. The muffled gurgling sound of the Cahuelmo’s engine permeates the silence. The Tompkins’ residence is only accessible by boat or small plane.

Top of a Better World

I was five when I decided it – decided that I would climb all the mountains in the Adirondacks that were over 4,000 feet (there are 46) before I was fifteen. And so waking up on a windy, gray day nine years later to hike up my final one, I was filled with pride. My legs were strong after a summer of hiking, and so we climbed quickly to the top, hoping it wouldn’t rain.

The Slovak Direct, Denali’s South Face, with Scott Backes and Mark Twight

“You’re on belay Steve,” Scott says before I have time to look up from organizing the ice screws and nuts and pitons. I climb up 10 feet, place a good stopper in a crack, and lower 15 feet down to my left to gain a ramp. The topo shows this to be ice, but the ice is gone now.

Alpine Umbrella

My teeth had been chattering for 36 hours; my summit expectations had been blown away. All that work, I thought: All those steep moves I’d aided, because it was too cold to put on climbing shoes, how Mikey defied death in an icy offwidth, and Dana led endless pitches of névé. Was it really time to give up on the summit?

The Value of Craftsmanship

I’ve always thought that one of the coolest things about surfing is that there are so many different ways to do it. No two waves are the same and, until recently, no two boards were the same. You can surf the same spot everyday and have a completely different experience every time. Switch boards and it feels like a totally different sport.

Each Board has to be the Best

Ten years ago I decided to not have any regrets, so I started surfing and it turned into an addiction. When I was offered a job in the surfboard manufacturing industry I jumped on it.

Field Reports Archive

Since 1990, Patagonia field reports have offered intense glimpses of nature’s front lines through the eyes of athletes, travelers and adventurers. Covering the diverse ground between geography lesson, sport journal and anecdotal meandering, these essays all share a passion for life.