Season 2 of ‘The Climb’ Should Look Like This
This article originally appeared on Climbing
Say what you will about The Climb, but it is the first--and, so far, only--reality-TV climbing show. Yes, the competition format was kinda hokey. Yes, there could have been deeper storytelling about the sport, its genres, and their history in lieu of Chris Sharma and Jason Momoa bro'ing out in Spain ("Love you, bro." "Love you too, bro"). And yes, that "5.12c" crack in Wadi Rum, Jordan, looked suspiciously like slammer 5.9+ hands. But overall, The Climb was pretty damn entertaining, and my wife and I found ourselves tuning in each time new episodes dropped to see who'd make it to the next round, as well as to check out the amazing locales.
Season two of The Climb has yet to be announced, but I figured I'd offer Hollywood some ideas, in case any big, mucky-muck producers like to read acerbic columns written by aging, never-was-been sport climbers with semi-coherent opinions. Sure, they could go all-in with more spectacular Euro limestone, epic boulders, splitter trad lines, and deep-water solos, and we'd certainly tune in again. But a more realistic approach might be to show more of the mundane, everyday, and even downright annoying things we climbers go through in pursuit of our passion.
So, while a 7c onsight deep-water solo in Mallorca is heady fare, is it more fear-inducing than taking a belay test administered by some pimply-faced 19-year-old who parrots his gym's made-up, corporate belay terminology as if it were gospel and loves nothing more than flaunting the petty authority with which he's so recently been invested? I think not! Here, without further ado, five proposed competition challenges for season two of The Climb.
1) The Redpoint Distracto-Thon
This is the ultimate test of concentration, pushing climbers to their limits as they fight to stay on the wall amidst the mind bending chaos of the modern sport crag.
As in season one, contestants will all work on the same redpoint climb, figuring out the beta during a work session one day, then taking a rest day and coming back for a redpoint. But here's the surprise catch: the working day will be nice and quiet, while the redpoint day will be a shitshow. That day, the crag will be populated by dreadlocked, patchouli-soaked #vanlife influencer families with unattended screaming babies; the first bolt of every climb will have a toddler in a Johnny Jump Up or a hangboard clipped to it; unleashed dogs will be running around, rooting through people's packs and fighting; bluetooth speakers will be pumping "crunchy jams"; special "social butterflies" will be deployed to talk at and distract your belayer while you climb; and designated "locals," smoking cigs, sitting in lawn chairs, and pounding White Claw, will spray unsolicited beta while you're on the rock, even if you already have the sequence down. Moreover, you're not allowed to wear earplugs or AirPods.
Superfinal: In case of a tie, contestants will have a "hammock off"--who can stay in a crag-base hammock the longest, without food, water, or bathroom breaks and only the label copy on a tube of liquid chalk for entertainment.
2) The Weekend Gauntlet
You'll begin by working a 50-hour workweek in the soulless hellscape that is corporate America, peppered with cringey, interminable Zoom meetings, go-nowhere "check-ins" with your ten different bloviating, bumbling, power-tripping "directors," logging in to endless third-party HR and workflow-management apps, spreadsheets, team lunches, etc. Then, once all life, hope, and vigor have been drained from you, it's time to rally for a weekend climbing adventure: Wheee!!!
Battle your way home in rush-hour traffic, haphazardly throw your climbing and camping gear in the car, fill up the tank with $4/gallon gasoline, and get ready to drive like hell for the local destination crag, so you can get a campsite before all the other weekend warriors get there and it turns into a battle royale. As with musical chairs, if you're left without a site, you're out--disqualified. Sayonara. Buh-bye.
Superfinal: In instances where contestants arrive at a site at the same time, they must scramble to book the only remaining, $340-a-night Airbnb, all while using spotty internet.
3) The Gym Orientation
This is a universal rite of public humiliation, one we must undergo each time we visit a new gym. It usually begins at the front desk, perhaps with a video and questionnaire about safety and rope techniques, then moves on to a "gym tour" ("These are the bathrooms. Now, why don't we wear our rock shoes into the bathrooms?") while all the cool kids glare at you like you're a braces-face, corrective-shoes, four-eyes transfer student who just came in halfway through the school year, then culminates in the ultimate hazing: the belay test, carried out front and center on the most visible panel of wall.
The challenge for contestants will be to weather all this with a smile on their faces--to never show impatience or frustration, even as the orientation drags on past the half-hour point. The minute you frown or dare to ask a question or use some unapproved "old-school" belay technique, you're out.
Superfinal: A waiver-off--while your screaming children run around the lobby grabbing random snacks and climbing gear off the pro-shop shelves, you must complete waivers for a family of five on a greasy-screened, semi-functional, COVID-covered iPad while a line of irate customers backs up behind you. First one to get all the waivers filled out wins.
Superduper Final: We'll rename you the "!Xceueato!" family--good luck finding all those special characters on the stupid, fucking iPad touchscreen.
4) Alpine Bouldering Crashpad Hike-a-Thon
As everyone knows, pad-stashing is only allowed for elite, double-digit, professional boulderers. The rest of us sub-V10 peons must carry our foam in and out every time we go bouldering or risk getting put on blast on Mountain Project and social media.
In this event, contestants will be given a Google Maps pin for the remotest block in the talus fields of Mount Evans, Colorado. They will then be given seven crashpads, 40 feet of webbing, and 10 carabiners, in order to improvise a carrying system. First one to the boulder without throwing up, twisting an ankle, or dying is the winner.
Superfinal: You have to actually climb the boulder problem you've hiked to, using the pads you've carried. Then you have to carry them back out--in the dark.
5) The Extended Project Belay
Climbing is all about partnership and supporting each other, and what better test is there of that sacred bond than the extended project belay? For this event, we've selected Ultramegathon, a 90-meter sport pitch that has intricate micro-beta at its 23 cruxes, 67 fussy, technical kneebars, sketchy runouts that necessitate pulling up a stick clip, and descent shenanigans that require multiple anchors and multiple lowers to get back to the deck.
Picking a designated partner, you'll support each other on belay--for as long as it takes to do every move and get to the anchor. We'll head out there on a day in the 40s with a light breeze, clouds, no sun. You get: puffy pants, a puffy jacket, and a mug of tea. What you don't get: to say things like, "Hey, I'm cold and I'm losing my warmup--can you come down now?" You just have to stand there and be supportive and take it--forever. The first one to tie their climber off to a tree and walk away loses.
Superfinal: A speed-jumar of El Capitan, belaying and supporting a big-wall free climber on their in-a-day ascent of a 35-pitch climb. First team up the Captain wins.
Matt Samet is a longtime climber and freelance editor and writer based in Boulder, Colorado.
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