The North Face of Jannu is one of the largest and most formidable ice walls on Earth, and Benjamin Vedrines is one of the most outstanding alpinists of the new century. Combining the two could only result in an epic achievement, thanks also to Vedrines' young climbing partner, fellow Frenchman Nicolas Jean.

An American team did the main summit of 7,710m Jannu via the North Face in 2023, but Vedrines and Jean had an alternative goal: the unclimbed East summit (7,468m). In 2024, they launched their first attempt, sharing the wall with Americans Mike Gardner and Sam Hennessey, who were on their second and third attempts, respectively.

Vedrines and Jean's attempt ended when the third member of the 2024 team, Leo Billon, fell sick due to acclimatization problems. It ended worse for the two Americans: Gardner fell to his death from a bivy ledge.

The return

Vedrines left Jannu, promising he would return. So did Nicolas Jean, while Billon decided not to join this time. In the preceding months, Vedrines and Jean trained intensively at home in the Alps, including climbing and skiing nonstop the four faces of Mont Blanc.

Vedrines also made a record speed traverse that he called the Great Alpine Trilogy: a nonstop, human-powered traverse of the ridges of the Grandes Jorasses, the Matterhorn, and the Eiger. Climbing, paragliding, and cycling from one peak to the next, Verdrines finished in a stunning 39 hours.

Vedrines and Jean adapted as a team of two, although it meant carrying heavier backpacks and climbing less efficiently, since only two climbers must lead all the pitches. Three is the ideal partnership for these big walls.

“Luckily, Nicolas [Jean] and I have climbed extensively as a pair in the Alps, so we are used to working together,” Vedrines said. “Besides, I’ve always liked to climb in a team of two, so this was quite natural."

The preparation

They, along with cameramen Thibaut Marot and Quentin Degrenne, landed in Nepal at the beginning of September. Vedrines and Jean then started a careful acclimatization plan to prepare for their alpine-style attempt on Jannu East. They took it easy at base camp and gradually gained altitude.

Their preparations included a first ascent of 6,808m Anidesh Chuli, a beautiful snowy peak also known as the White Wave. After this, they waited patiently for the right weather window to begin. Vedrines planned a fast, three-day ascent. They needed the right conditions on the wall, as well as stable weather. In the end, it took them four days.

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The summit news

We heard about their success on October 19, after the climbers had returned safely to base camp. Jannu's vertical North Face and the sharp and icy summit ridge looked breathtaking. Both climbers agreed it had been the peak of their climbing careers.

"Concentration, commitment, self-improvement, and emotion…all the ingredients of high-altitude Himalayanism," Nicolas Jean said.

"I feel like I drew on all my knowledge and abilities to ascend this 2,300m Himalayan wall," wrote Vedrines. "Once we reached the summit, after so many trials and tribulations, tears flowed. A dream had come true."

We had all the details from Vedrines when he returned to Kathmandu, in an exclusive interview.

The climb

The climbers had intended to start on October 11 but had to postpone at the last minute because the gale-force winds that were supposed to drop kept hitting the peak at over 100kph. The following day, the two climbers moved from base camp to Advanced Base Camp, trusting in their meteorologist, who remained confident of a weather window.

On October 13, they started off from ABC (5,100m) at 5 am, simul-climbing part of the time — “soloing in a team of two,” is how they put it. They set their first bivouac at 6,200m.

The following day, they passed the point where Leo Billon had retreated in 2024, and the altitude from which Mike Gardner fell to his death. Beyond that, they were entering unknown terrain.

For the sake of transparency, Vedrines notes that they fixed 100m of rope through a particularly difficult section, right before their second bivouac at 6,900m.

At 3:30 am on October 16, the climbers left their bivy in –20°C, toward the razor-sharp summit ridge, which they reached at dawn. But their difficulties were far from over.

“The ridge was completely wind-loaded,” Vedrines wrote. "It was impossible to go straight up, so I had to traverse slightly into the face on the right side, on steep snow, with no solid protection. [At 7,400m,] I found a thin ice band, just enough to climb 10 meters and get back on the ridge. It was [exposed, but it was] the only option.”

At 1 pm, the duo thought they had reached the summit, but drone pilot Thibaut Marot warned them over the radio that the highest point was actually a second peak at the end of a corniced ridge. Disappointed and exhausted, Vedrines and Jean pushed themselves forward for another hour until they stood on the true summit of Jannu East at 1:40 pm.

Vedrines said they enjoyed very good ice conditions until the second bivy spot.

"After 7,000m, we reached the most exposed part," he explained. "It was all soft snow, and we didn’t have anywhere to put an anchor or a belay. We had no idea how we would manage to get down."

"However, we were so motivated to go to the top that we went on, and left the questions about the return until after the summit," Vedrines added. "In that sense, the real crux of the climb was the descent.”

The descent

The descent started at 6 am on October 16. Vedrines describes it as “wild.” All 50 rappels were delicate, but the upper 400m were the worst.

“We couldn’t place protection, and we had only three snow pickets,” Vedrines said. “It was clearly not enough, so we had to make a difficult decision to go down a different line, on a completely unknown face. It was very stressful, and the conditions were very, very bad.”

They only allowed themselves to relax back in base camp, which they reached at 5:30 pm, “mentally and physically done.” Both managed to evade frostbite despite the extremely low temperatures.

Made it look easy

In 2023, Americans Alan Rousseau, Jackson Marvell, and Matt Cornell achieved the first ascent of the North Face of Jannu to the massif’s main summit. The herculean effort pushed the climbers beyond their physical limits. Rousseau was frostbitten, and the team suffered hallucinations from extreme exhaustion during the last part of the climb.

While extremely tired at the end, Vedrines and Jean never reached that state. Somehow, they made their climb look easy, though surely it wasn't.

According to Vedrines, the key was good acclimatization. At the same time, he admits he felt utterly exhausted on the final part of the climb.

“I was surprised at how tired I was. I thought my [fitness] was better!”

Months later, Vedrines was awarded a Special Mention at the Piolets d'Or for his previous climbs in the Alps and the fast ascent of K2. As he explained at the ceremony, all his activities explore different aspects of alpinism, from climbing to skiing to paragliding. They also test his own limits. He is already planning for 2026.

At ExplorersWeb, we focus on expeditions to the wild corners of our planet, but we also cover what you might call adventure science -- the archaeology, space, and natural history discoveries that pique the curiosity of most of us who spend time outdoors. We now know that moss can survive months strapped to the outside of the International Space Station and that Easter Island’s stone statues really did “walk.”

Researchers have invented bite-resistant wetsuits and a hiking robot that may soon transform search-and-rescue missions. One man deliberately let snakes bite him hundreds of times to help create a near-universal antivenom. We've discovered the oldest known black hole in the universe, and even caught killer whales kissing on camera.

Here are ExplorersWeb's five most popular science stories of 2025.

'Sea' lions

Namibian Lions Take Up Seal Hunting: Lions along Namibia’s Skeleton Coast are showcasing their adaptability by returning to maritime hunting. They are the only lions in the world that regularly hunt seals and seabirds. In the mid-20th century, the Namibian lions used to roam these beaches until humans forced them inland. 

Over the last 20 years, a small group of these desert-adapted lions has returned to the water's edge. Initially, they continued to hunt on land, but three young lionesses soon rediscovered their ancestors' maritime hunting techniques. Now, 80% of the population's diet comes from the sea. 

Farewell to a titan

Jane Goodall Dies at 91: In October, world-renowned primatologist and conservationist Jane Goodall passed away at the age of 91, peacefully in her sleep while on a speaking tour in California. Goodall revolutionized the study of animal behavior with her field research on chimpanzees at Tanzania’s Gombe Stream National Park.

She threw out the rule book and saw the chimpanzees as individuals. Goodall gave them names and followed them for decades. She observed them using tools, witnessed their social relationships, and realized that they showed emotions previously associated only with humans.

Her legacy extends beyond scientific discovery. Goodall founded the Jane Goodall Institute, launched the global youth-focused Roots & Shoots program, authored over 30 books, served as a United Nations Messenger of Peace, and spent her life advocating for wildlife conservation and environmental stewardship. Her passionate efforts inspired generations of researchers and activists to protect animals and their habitats. 

Not so mysterious

What’s The Deal With the Human Remains in Antarctica? Online rumors recently resurfaced about old human remains found in Antarctica. The reality is less sensational than some posts suggest. The story began in 1985, when Chilean biologist Daniel Torres Navarro found a human skull on Livingston Island, off the northern tip of the Antarctic Peninsula. He later found two leg bones that belonged to the same unfortunate soul. 

Navarro and anthropologist Claudio Paredes tried to decipher the sex and race of the bones' owner. Not an easy feat, with only three bits of bone and the scientific methods of the 1990s.

Unsurprisingly, the results were inconclusive. How the bones got to Antarctica is another question. It is likely they belonged to a woman who ended up there through early sealing or shipwreck activity. They do not rewrite human history or suggest prehistoric Antarctic inhabitants, as some breathless stories suggested.

A deadly tourism destination

Kitum Cave: A Natural Wonder Hosting a Deadly Disease: Kitum Cave sits on Mount Elgon in Kenya. Years of weathering and erosion on the extinct volcano created a series of caves, and the mineral deposits on the walls of one in particular draw herds of elephants and other wildlife. Kitum Cave is essentially a giant salt lick. 

As animals ventured into the cave, tourists eventually came to view them, but this showed the cave's darker side. In the 1980s, two visitors fell ill with uncontrollable internal bleeding and organ breakdown. They had contracted the Marburg virus, a close relative of Ebola, while inside the cave.

The 'Terra Nova' reveals its secrets

New Scans Show Fate of Sunken SS Terra Nova: A team of maritime archaeologists has completed a detailed underwater survey of the sunken SS Terra Nova. The historic wooden ship carried Robert Falcon Scott on his doomed 1910 Antarctic expedition and later sank off Greenland during World War II. 

Finding the ship became the test project for new sonar equipment in 2012. Recently, researchers returned to the site with modern submersibles and expert divers to fully expose the details of the wreck. They confirmed the wreck’s identity, revealed that the bow had violently split in half, and found the remnants of gear from a rapid evacuation as the ship sank. 

Want a change of scenery? Possess a detailed knowledge of birds? Then the Scottish Wildlife Trust (SWT) has a job for you. The SWT is hiring a ranger for a six-month position on Handa, an uninhabited island off the coast of the Scottish Highlands.

Handa is accessible from the mainland only by a 10-minute ferry. The ranger position, which covers the summer tourism season, requires weekly ferry trips to resupply at the nearby 200-person town of Scourie. The only visitors are summer volunteers and the 5,000-odd tourists who arrive each summer, mostly for birdwatching.

The island boasts thriving bird populations, including puffins, skuas, guillemots, and razorbills. Monitoring the species' health is a crucial part of the ranger's job. The guillemots and razorbills on Handa each contribute to about 10% of the populations in the British Isles.

The summer ranger will support wildlife conservation and tourism at the head of a team of volunteers. Despite the isolated location, the position is a social one.

"It's a challenging role, but the successful candidate will spend some warm, sunny days in one of the most beautiful and exciting places in Scotland," said Rab Potter, reserves area manager for the SWT.

Handa was not always uninhabited

People lived on Handa year-round until 1847, when the Highlands Potato Famine forced the population to emigrate to Nova Scotia. The remnants of a church can still be found on the island, as well as centuries of graves. Inhabitants of the mainland often buried their dead on Handa to prevent wolves from eating the bodies.

Connections between Handa and outsiders extended not just to the mainland but to the archipelago of St. Kilda, now also uninhabited. In 1876, a man named Donald MacDonald from St. Kilda first crossed the 24m gap between the shore of Handa and a 72m tower of rock called the Great Stack. He made the ascent by swinging hand over hand on a rope across open water. In 1969, a team that included well-known Scottish mountaineer Hamish MacInnes made the first ascent from the water.

During the summer, however, climbing the Great Stack is off-limits due to the presence of nesting birds. But if you'd like to spend six months monitoring puffins and guillemots, then the SWT ranger position may be for you. It runs from March to September and pays £26,112 ($35,311). The SWT provides free lodging in a ranger bothy.

This year, a legendary high-altitude climber and his courageous life partner opened a new alpine-style route on Nanga Parbat, the so-called Killer Mountain of Pakistan's Himalaya.

Denis Urubko, 52, of Russia, one of the best high-altitude climbers in history, had supposedly retired from the higher peaks some years ago. But a new goal prompted his return: He wanted to help his wife, Maria Cardell, 50, become the first woman to climb a new 8,000m route in alpine style.

However, no matter how much experience and support Urubko could provide, the effort was totally Cardell's. And that is the most impressive aspect of this Nanga Parbat expedition -- how the Spaniard rose to meet the challenge.

Climbing Urubko-style

The humble, soft-spoken Maria Cardell not only climbed a new route in alpine style on 8,126m Nanga Parbat; she has climbed it in pure Denis Urubko style, without being Denis Urubko. Bear in mind that the Russian's imprint through his seven new Himalayan routes all involved relentless endurance and stubborn progress in poor weather and difficult conditions. Rescue is never an option with him. Trying to climb Urubko-style is more than meritable. It is scary.

Cardell is more of a sport rock climber and a ski patroller than a high-altitude mountaineer, but Urubko introduced her to elite alpinism through brutal training in the Caucasus, where they climbed several peaks in rough weather. In 2023, they attempted a new, alpine-style route on Gasherbrum I, but high winds stopped them. Luckily for Cardell, they had already climbed the peak's normal route for acclimatization; it gave Cardell her first 8,000m summit. It was Urubko’s 27th without bottled oxygen.

The following winter, in January 2024, Urubko attempted Gasherbrum I again, but suffered frostbite after falling into a crevasse on the Gasherbrum Glacier. It required a long recovery, but the Russian was determined to get Cardell into mountaineering history, and she was willing.

Pakistan 2025

The couple chose the Diamir side of Nanga Parbat, the site of most climbing routes on the mountain, including the normal Kinshofer route. They traveled to Skardu early in the season, in June, and followed an innovative acclimatization program. It consisted of climbing 4,000m and 5,000m peaks in a day, moving very fast, and returning for the night to a camp at a lower altitude. Here, they recovered better and faster than they would have at the higher Base Camp of an 8,000'er.

“If Masha [Maria Cardell] can’t keep up, I’ll try it solo,” Urubko wrote in an email to Mountain.ru.

She could.

The couple moved to Nanga Parbat's Base Camp, but kept a low profile. Meanwhile, commercial teams fixed the normal route and eventually summited at the beginning of July. One day later, Urubko broke his silence.

Dangerously old-fashioned

“The route is calling,” Urubko texted on July 4. "It's time to turn the dream into reality."

He told his home team they expected to be four or five days on the face. Climbers in the area reported very dry conditions and frequent, dangerous rockfall. Later, we learned that the pair carried no InReach, no satphone, no GPS,  not even a radio to communicate with the base of the mountain. Urubko had made clear they wanted no rescue in case of trouble, so no one else had to risk their lives.

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Cardell explained later that Urubko had made her promise that she wouldn't try to help if he fell. She also admitted that she said yes but had no intention of keeping her word if something went wrong. She was also convinced that her husband would have done the impossible to help her if she'd been the one who needed help.

The weather seemed stable, although it wouldn't last. And lacking communication devices, the climbers had no way to receive forecasts.

A low-key summit

On July 11, their expedition outfitter confirmed to ExplorersWeb that Urubko and Cardell had summited the day before. The news made waves across the climbing community. Everyone was eager for details, but none came. Urubko and Cardell decided to stay under the radar for several days. They only returned to Skardu and told about the climb 10 days later.

Even then, details were scarce. They said they climbed between July 6 and July 10 and said their route combined varied terrain, with ice, mixed rock, snow, and a crevassed glacier.

"The route is technically difficult and exposed to avalanches and rockfall in some sections," the Russian climber told Mountain.ru.

The details of the climb were released progressively through interviews the couple gave back home and, most of all, Maria Cardell's lectures across Spain. Denis Urubko has stepped back to let his partner take the limelight. Cardell also shared a complete report (in Spanish) with the Spanish Mountaineering Association. They spent six days on the ascent and one on the descent, down the fixed ropes of the normal route.

Brutal experience

It was then that we knew that the climbers progressed in bad weather and low visibility and that they had taken significant risks in some sections due to the constant rockfall. On the second day, they had to wait for seven hours at the edge of a corridor while rocks fell constantly, until the sun set. They then resumed the climb and continued nonstop all night long, doing 19 pitches.

Their strategy was to go as fast as possible, with minimal gear, no 8,000m clothing, rationed food and fuel. Every afternoon, they had to pause as violent storms wracked the mountain. Snow piled up, and the avalanche risk increased dramatically.

"There's been tension, avalanches, rockfall, bad weather. I have surprised myself with my physical and mental endurance," Cardell told Desnivel.

Cardell admitted she had to assume the "extremely hard" methods and rules Urubko applies during his climbs. Among these, they didn't drink during the entire day while climbing -- very Russian. In order to go lighter, they didn't even carry water.

She also explained how Urubko is always analyzing every possible danger at every moment, in order to anticipate and prevent it.

"That is how, after all the huge challenges he has assumed, he is still alive," she explained. That also involves constant tension. "If Denis does not allow himself the least mistake, he will obviously be even more demanding with a partner, in whom he trusts his life."

New route or variation?

While in Skardu, Urubko also sent a topo of their ascent route, which raised the attention of some followers of Himalayan history. They noted that their line on the Diamir Face was very similar to a previous route opened in 2009 by Gerfried Goeschl of Austria and Louis Rousseau of Canada.

Gerfried Goesch had perished on Gasherbrum I, but Urubko and Cardell were careful to speak to Louis Rousseau before their expedition, to make sure they climbed on different terrain.

After the expedition, both Urubko and Rousseau collaborated with Gorskie Mapy of Poland, whose exquisite cartographic work is a respected reference in mountaineering. Since there is no GPS track, Urubko gave his memories and photos of where they went. Gorskie Mapy shared with them the topo of the two routes and also the Kinshoffer route, for comparison:

We recently published a long article about new routes, partial new routes, and variations, which attempted to explain the differences. However, as we noted, there are no accepted criteria in the mountaineering community about which is which. Urubko-Cardell’s route and Goeschl-Rousseau’s have different starting points. The closer areas are mid-mountain. Other sources told ExplorersWeb that the summit area is worth a careful look, since that is where most routes converge.

Louis Rousseau declined to enter the debate about whether the Urubko/Cardell route, which they named Niezabudka (the Russian word for the forget-me-not flower), is new, partial, or a variation.

"I will leave it to specialists and historians to judge," Rousseau said.

Instead, he highlights the significance of the climb itself, done as a two-person team, alone on a huge mountain, in excellent style and difficult conditions.

"For me, it’s just another incredible badass ascent made by Denis and Maria that embodied the true essence of alpinism," he told ExplorersWeb.

Tyler Andrews is preparing for a new attempt at the Fastest Known Time on Everest without supplementary oxygen. It's the American's third attempt, but this one will be very different, as he will climb from the North Side of the mountain, in Tibet.

New duel

Andrews will chase Kilian Jornet's 2017 North Side record of 26 hours from Base Camp to summit. He also intends to break the Base Camp-summit-Base Camp return trip time.

This will compete with Karl Egloff of Ecuador, who will also try the Everest round-trip FKT without oxygen from the South Side. This will be Egloff's second attempt. His first was last spring.

Andrews also attempted the Everest FKT from Nepal last spring, on three unsuccessful summit pushes. Then he returned in the fall for a fresh attempt, using the ropes fixed by skier Andrzej Bargiel's team. His highest point was 8,400m.

Not forbidden?

A fast return trip on Everest seems safer from the North Side, as there is no icefall to cross. But climbing without oxygen was reportedly forbidden on Tibet's 8,000m peaks since they reopened to foreigners after the COVID hiatus. Companies operating on the mountain in 2024 mentioned that regulation, but it is unclear how (or whether) it was applied and if it remains in force.

In the fall of 2024, Nirmal Purja and Mingma G climbed Shisha Pangma, also in Tibet, without supplementary oxygen. So did some of their clients, and no problem was reported.

At the time, Purja's team claimed they had "all the required permissions from the relevant authorities for this expedition.” After the climb, Mingma G insisted they were "not obliged" to use oxygen and noted that there were other no-oxygen climbs on Tibet's 8,000'ers that year, including Anja Blacha of Germany, who summited Cho Oyu with Seven Summit Treks.

An Everest guide recently told ExplorersWeb that there was no actual mention to the use of oxygen in the regulations that the China Tibet Mountaineering Association (CMTA) sent to companies ahead of the season.

Tyler Andrews will organize his expedition through Asian Trekking, in collaboration with the CTMA. He has also stated he will comply with all the rules. We have asked Asian Trekking for details.

Treadmill record

Andrews holds over 90 mountain speed records, including the FKT on 8,163m Manaslu. He announced the new expedition at a PR event in Boulder, Colorado, last Sunday, in which he ran the 8,848m height of Mount Everest on a treadmill. His team noted that Andrews broke the pre-existing world record (yes, there is a world record for this) by completing the equivalent distance in 8 hours, 17 minutes, and 9 seconds.

On Everest, Andrews will be accompanied by a film crew that will document the feat.

Last week, a magnitude 7 earthquake ripped through the Hubbard Glacier, on the Alaska-Yukon border. Now, fieldwork by the Yukon Geological Survey (YGS) has revealed localized avalanches and serac falls. The reaction of the Hubbard Glacier to this earthquake offers warnings to mountaineers climbing on a warming planet.

2025's earthquake of the year

If it occurred in a densely populated area, the 2025 Hubbard Glacier earthquake could easily have killed thousands of people. Instead, it killed no one. In the mountaineering off-season, the American Wrangell-St. Elias National Park and the Canadian Kluane National Park lie abandoned by humans. Territorial lines notwithstanding, they both sit on the Hubbard Glacier, a roughly 100-km stretch of ice beginning at Mt. Hubbard and ending at Disenchantment Bay.

The recent earthquake struck a mere five kilometers under the surface of the ice and reached 7 on the Richter scale. Earthquake magnitudes are measured on a logarithmic scale, so a 7th magnitude earthquake shifts the ground 10 times more than a 6th magnitude, and so on. The 1906 San Francisco earthquake, for instance, which remains the deadliest in United States history, probably had a magnitude of about 7.9.

Cause not clear

Understanding how and why an earthquake happens takes rapid follow-up. Much of that comes from local witnesses via systems like Did You Feel It? Their reports help pin down the epicenter of an earthquake. If the aftershocks all trace a line, they can even identify the fault line responsible. But in the case of the Hubbard Glacier earthquake, aftershocks clustered along a 65km blob, rather than a clean line neatly defining where the fault runs.

There are many potential explanations for this, as outlined in this brilliant write-up. One is that multiple mechanisms triggered this earthquake, leading to smaller earthquakes along other fault lines nearby. These mechanisms can include one plate sliding next to the other, one plate sliding under another, or more exotic events like magma bubbles.

Another possibility is that Hubbard Glacier's placement along a geological transition zone -- from classic plate shifting to the north, to subduction of one plate under another in the south -- leads to messy, chaotic fault behavior. And finally, it's also possible that some of the aftershocks were not earthquakes at all, but rather local icequakes.

New results from the Yukon Geological Survey

The YGS posted preliminary results of their follow-up survey on Facebook. In that post, they state that the inciting event was one tectonic plate sliding two meters relative to its neighbor all at once. This is a significant amount of fault slip, but the team did not locate any places where the ground had ruptured.

Their results don't offer conclusive answers regarding the clumpiness of the aftershocks. But whether or not the earthquake triggered icequakes, it certainly disrupted the glacial environment around 3,741m Mt. King George at the epicenter. When the YGS team arrived in the area shortly after the earthquake, they found dust hanging in the air from recent rockfall.

Radiating out from the epicenter, they found numerous snow and ice avalanches, as well as evidence of recent serac falls. But the damage on Mt. King George was most intense.

"It is fortunate that this event did not occur during mountaineering season, as earthquake-triggered serac falls and avalanches have caused fatalities in the past," they wrote. "The damage to ice in the region and persistent rockfall from landslides scars may pose new additional hazards for mountaineering and skiing expeditions in the area."

Threat to mountaineers

The reaction of glaciers to shallow earthquakes is a pressing issue for mountaineers as global temperatures rise. When glaciers melt, the water runs downstream and rejoins the sea. Without the weight of ice on top of it, the Earth's crust rises. This process, known as isostatic rebound, is also responsible for some of Everest's current upward growth.

Isostatic rebound has been occurring gradually over the last 20,000 years, since the end of the last Ice Age. It causes earthquakes worldwide, some of which trigger avalanches. Human-induced climate change compounds this effect. With glacier melt accelerating at unprecedented rates, low-level seismic activity seems to have increased beneath the Greenland ice sheet.

Geologists and glaciologists can use events like the Hubbard Glacier earthquake to better understand the seismological warning signs for ice and snow hazards. Potentially, this information could be incorporated into mountaineering ventures the same way that weather forecasts currently are. But right now, the YGS has issued a call for athletes to help out scientists, rather than the other way around.

"If any mountaineers or skiers have photos of Mt. King George before these slides, we would love to hear from you! Pre-event photos will help us estimate total landslide volumes. Please send any relevant photos to geology@yukon.ca."

This year, Miriam Payne and Jess Rowe became the first all-female team to row nonstop across the Pacific Ocean. Starting in Lima, Peru, the British pair rowed 15,210km across the open ocean and landed in Cairns, Australia, 165 days later.

From the beginning, equipment failure and technical issues bedeviled the crossing. Only days after launching in April, their rudder failed completely, forcing them to abandon the attempt and catch a tow back to Lima. The setback cost them almost four weeks.

“That was particularly worrying,” they told ExplorersWeb, “because we needed to depart by a specific date to avoid the Australian hurricane season.”

It also triggered a financial scramble, as their spare rudder showed the same issue: “Peel ply left inside the rudder during construction allowed the foam core to expand and split the structure,” the pair explained.

New rudders had to be manufactured in the UK and flown to Peru at high cost.

Problems, problems

When they relaunched in early May, the problems continued almost immediately.

“We had problems with virtually every piece of equipment on board,” they admitted.

Their pipes of their electric watermaker burst, then the emergency watermaker failed, and they ended up replacing the filter with a pair of knickers. Soon after that, their electrical system began hemorrhaging power.

The power issues impacted the entire expedition. For almost the whole crossing, Payne and Rowe were forced into what they described as “ghost-ship mode.” Their batteries drained so fast that they had to shut down all non-essential systems.

“One by one, we had to shut everything down,” they said. “No AIS, no VHF radio, no chart plotter, no navigation lights, and even our radar reflector was turned off.”

They generated just enough electricity to briefly run the watermaker and charge their Garmin inReach to stay in contact with their safety officer and weather router. At times, even the autopilot failed.

“There were frequent occasions when we had to go completely dead ship and navigate using the stars or [the direction of] the wind on a small flag.”

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Long days

Despite this, the pair managed to row 16 hours a day and average roughly 95km. The physical toll was relentless. Their hands were blistered, salt sores were endless due to the constant salt spray, and the cabin was so hot it was nearly impossible to sleep. Still, their mindset remained remarkably positive.

“We genuinely enjoyed the rowing,” they said. “The conditions were constantly changing, and there was always something to talk about. No two days were ever the same, and we felt incredibly lucky to be out there.”

Their Pacific expedition followed earlier success in The World’s Toughest Row across the Atlantic, but the two experiences could not have been more different.

“The Atlantic was a race,” they explained. “It was much more intense but over far quicker.”

They had rowed in separate boats and encountered no major technical issues. The Pacific, by contrast, was an entirely independent expedition.

“When we took part in the Atlantic rowing race, everything was organized for us," they recalled. "We were told what equipment to bring, how much food to pack and exactly where to start and finish. For this expedition, none of that was clear. We had to figure out the start and end points ourselves and carry out extensive research to build a workable plan.”

Two years of prep

They started planning their Pacific row almost immediately after completing their Atlantic crossing. Both felt a real sense of sadness after the initial elation at making it across the Atlantic to Antigua, and conversation turned to what they could do next. Everything they looked at was smaller than what they had already done, and they wanted to go bigger.

The obvious choice was to enter the sister race run by The World’s Toughest Row that crosses the Pacific from San Francisco to Hawaii.

“But we felt that rowing only a third of the ocean wasn’t enough. That’s when the idea emerged: to see whether it was possible to row the entire Pacific Ocean nonstop and unsupported,” they explained.

For Rowe and Payne, the toughest part of this row was the two years of preparation. They worked with a weather router to find viable start and end points. They had to figure out how to get a boat and all their supplies to Peru, and trained with specialist coaches to ensure they were ready for the physical demands of the row.

“It takes a huge amount of self-discipline and determination," they told us. "Every spare hour outside full-time work was spent training, fundraising for sponsorship, or working on the boat. It’s an enormous commitment that demands real sacrifice. For both of us, that meant no social life and very little time with family throughout the two years.”

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Unknown endpoint

As they set off, their only goal was to reach the Australian coast. Brisbane appeared on their tracker simply because a location had to be selected, but their actual endpoint was unknown for most of the row.

“We never had a fixed endpoint,” they explained. “It wasn’t something that we could decide until we were about 1,600km out.”

In the end, winds and currents pushed them north to Cairns. “With the weather conditions we had, heading further south just wasn’t possible.”

The final few weeks were particularly tough. In the Coral Sea, headwinds pushed them southeast, forcing them to work constantly to avoid being blown toward Papua New Guinea. Substantial waves crashed over the side of the boat, which worsened their salt sores. Soaring temperatures left them with prickly heat. As they hit Australia's east coast, they had to contend with busy shipping lanes.

Brutal final hours

However, there was one small breakthrough. As the ozone layer over Australia is a little thinner, their batteries could charge more efficiently. For the first time in months, they intermittently powered up their chart plotter. It was a huge boost, especially while trying to navigate across the Great Barrier Reef in the dark.

The final approach to Cairns was the hardest of all. “Those final four hours were brutal,” Rowe said. “We were battling 20-knot headwinds and being pushed further and further out of the channel.”

At one point, they genuinely believed they might fail within sight of land. “We honestly thought we weren’t going to make it. We thought we might have to swim to shore -- an unsettling prospect given the crocodiles and sharks in the water!”

Focused on solutions

The two women came up against near-constant issues, but for the most part did not need to try hard to motivate themselves. They stayed solution-focused when problems arose, because “nothing good ever comes from panicking or being negative.”

They treated themselves to chocolate, listened to audiobooks, had Abba sing-alongs, and reveled in the world around them.

“Seeing the whales was incredible,” they said. “The night sky was unforgettable -- the Milky Way stretched above us, and when we rowed, the paddles lit up the phosphorescence in the water. It felt completely otherworldly.”

A few months later, they are still adjusting to being back on land.

“We’ve lost a significant amount of muscle, and we’re still extremely tired,” they said.

For both, sleep remains an issue. “After being so accustomed to functioning while sleep-deprived, it’s been hard to reset. We’re still averaging only about five hours a night, even after two months back on land.”

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On December 21, a Nepali team did a double first ascent of two neighboring 6,000m peaks in the Upper Mustang region.

Sherpa guides usually treat winter as a time to rest, travel, and spend time with their families. However, some also enjoy climbing for the fun of it and to hone their skills with alpine-style projects. After all, their country is still full of unclimbed peaks.

Jenjen Lama, Pasang Rinzee Sherpa, and Ashish Gurung summited Chhuama II (6,325m). They then followed the summit ridge to the top of neighboring Chhuama I (6,366m) two hours later. This marked the first ascent of both peaks.

"The expedition followed a clean alpine approach, climbing via the southeast face of Chhuama II, traversing westward to Chhuama I, and descending via the south ridge of Chhuama I," sponsor Seven Summit Treks reported.

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Focus on alpine-style

"The original idea came from a guy who works with Seven Summit Treks [7ST], a member of the Nepal Mountain Academy who identified these peaks as unclimbed," guide Pasang Rinzee Sherpa told ExplorersWeb. "We formed a team and got support from 7ST."

They eventually decided to climb alpine-style and to traverse from Chhuama II to Chhuama I in a single push.

Driving to the Korala border pass (4,660m), on the frontier between Nepal's Mustang region and Tibet, they trekked toward the peak and set up base camp.

"On the next day, we started hiking toward 5,300m, where we set a high camp and spent the night... well, half the night, as we set off toward the summit very early," Pasang Rinzee said.

Mainly a rock climb

Snow covered the base of the mountain and the first summit, but, unlike most of the peaks the Nepalis work on during the year, the second peak featured mostly bare granite.

"Chhuama II could be suitable as a trekking peak, but Chhuama I is too tricky," Pasang Rinzee said. "The approach is longer, and it has lots of loose rock."

The unstable rock was one of the main obstacles the team found on the traverse and the second peak.

"You cannot actually stand on the top because of the unstable rock," he said.

The summit views were also quite different from the sea of snowy peaks viewed from Nepal's 8,000'ers. Upper Mustang is a dry, desert-like area similar to the Tibetan plains to the north, with lower, drier peaks marking the border.

By supporting this expedition, Seven Summit Treks aims to "develop future strategies for climbing virgin, uncharted mountains," the expedition company wrote.

Rothera on Adelaide Island is the UK's largest Antarctic research station. Until recently, station support assistant Kirsten Shaw ran its mail service out of a handmade box. But only this month, the station received an actual Royal Mail postbox. The upgrade is primarily aesthetic, but highlights the logistical difficulty and surprising importance of snail mail in Antarctica.

Figuring that it was best to go straight to the top with these things, Shaw wrote to the British King last August. In the isolation of a research station, whose population varies seasonally from around 100 to 22, a simple letter is a physical connection to loved ones in the outside world.

"An actual tangible piece of paper with handwriting from friends and family is such a lift," Shaw explained.

Her argument must have made an impact, because when polar research vessel RRS Sir David Attenborough arrived in Antarctica this month with a load of supplies, it also had a shiny new, official Royal Mail post box.

For a letter to reach the new Rothera Royal Mail postbox, it must pass over many hundreds of kilometers. Likewise, outgoing mail has an arduous journey ahead of it. Outgoing mail is stamped and bagged by Shaw, then loaded onto a British Antarctic Survey plane or ship.

The bags are unloaded at a BAS office in the Falkland Islands and then flown to a Royal Air Force station in Oxfordshire. From there, they're fed into the normal Royal Mail system for delivery.

There's nothing quite like posting a letter as a penguin waddles past.

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In October, Luka Lindic of Slovenia and Fanny Schmutz of France completed a new alpine route on a 5,600m peak in the remote Genyen Massif of western Sichuan Province, China. The ascent, graded VII A1, 700m, took place near the Tibetan border, an area that remains largely unexplored by mountaineers.

The pair redirected to the Genyen Valley after their initial plan fell through due to permit issues. Local motorcyclists transported them from the valley entrance to a river, where they established their base camp.

For acclimatization, Lindic and Schmutz first ascended a nearby 5,200m peak via a 300m route. After a rest, they targeted the west-facing wall of the 5,600m peak, called Garmunei Gou. Bivouacking below the wall for an early start, they experienced colder conditions than expected, with snow complicating the shaded sections.

The climbers cached their bivouac gear midway up the route to climb more efficiently. The upper headwall was steep with sparse protection, requiring traverses, a diagonal rappel, and brief aid climbing. They summited at night, grading the route VII A1. The descent involved rappels back to their cached gear around 3 am. Here, they rested before returning to base camp the next day.

Schmutz sustained an ankle sprain during a subsequent scouting trip, prompting the team to refrain from climbing anything further.

The Genyen Massif, centered around the 6,204m Ge'nyen peak (the third-highest in Sichuan), has dozens of mountains, many unclimbed, in the Garze Tibetan Autonomous Prefecture.

This autumn, two young alpinists from the UK and Ireland achieved a remarkable new route on a 6,000'er, Aikache Chhok, in Pakistan's Karakoram range.

James Price and George Ponsonby connected through the Young Alpinists Group, a mentorship program for emerging climbers. They teamed up after a group trip to Scotland, where members pitched expedition ideas. During the trip, they elected to go with Price's proposal for a climb in Pakistan.

Price had been dealing with a painful ankle tendon injury and even planned to climb in a ski boot for support. However, the issue eased at base camp. Ponsonby spent the summer as a commercial salmon fisher in Alaska, putting in long hours that built strength but left no time for climbing-specific training. With modest ambitions, they packed food for five days and fuel for seven, arriving without a fixed objective or detailed photos of potential lines.

Choosing the line

After exploring valleys near the Batura Wall, they settled on a striking ridge on the Northwest Face of Aikache Chhok, a 6,000m+ peak in the Hachindar Massif. An Italian team first climbed the mountain in 1983 from the southeast.

Price and Ponsonby targeted a new 3,000m line from the north. On October 13, they began with good progress: up a main gully, into a side gully, then mixed pitches up to M5/M6, linking snowfields toward the ridge. They ended the day three pitches short, feeling optimistic about their five-day timeline.

Setbacks

Day two changed everything, with only three pitches gained through aid climbing on loose, overhanging rock around M7/A2+. The cold, shady north face felt reminiscent of famous European walls. They continued up mixed terrain beside the ridge, avoiding sections too technical for alpine boots, and bivouacked under a rock step.

Efforts to traverse ice ramps in order to bypass another rock band led to dead ends, forcing a low-point bivouac. In camp, they tried to make custard, but it turned into an inedible mess. Bummed, this was the closest they came to retreating, but they opted for one more push.

The next day involved relentless ice climbing, eight full rope-length pitches up to AI5 on rock-hard glacial ice, breaking screws and chipping picks, ending in darkness back on the ridge.

Exhaustion deepened on the following days. Facing nearly 1,000m of slabby black ice interspersed with poor rock, they invented the "Karakoram flop": simul-climbing until calves and toes burned unbearably, then clipping directly to an axe, fully relaxing (even letting the pack pull backward), before placing the next screw. Bivouacs were basic, in crevasses or under overhangs, with food running low and feet battered.

Final push

Day seven brought more simul-climbing on snow, an overhanging ice step, and steep black ice to a ridge between a mini-summit and the main one. Brief sunshine gave way to a whiteout and deep snow, prolonging the summit ridge traverse. The mist cleared just enough to reveal a corniced summit two pitches ahead. Too drained to climb further in poor visibility, they pitched their small tent and shivered through the night, focused on keeping extremities warm.

On day eight, they shared their final energy bar, and clear weather allowed them to breach the cornice and summit. They hurried down without confirming the exact height, though a Garmin read 6,663m one pitch below. (Other sources put the peak’s height at a modest 6,595m.)

They descended over unseen terrain because persistent clouds had obscured views from Base Camp. It involved rappels off V-threads, complex glacier crossings, passes over seracs, and quick moves under threat. They bivouacked again around 5,000m, comforted by headlamp signals from below, before reaching base camp on October 21. The climb took nine days total, and they finished slimmer, but without frostbite.

Local shepherds and hunters offered them generous hospitality, lending huts, sharing chai, milk, butter, and food, while watching progress through binoculars and flashing lights at night. This support made the massive face feel less isolating.

They named their new route Secrets, Shepherds, Sex, and Serendipity after a humorous screenplay the pair crafted while waiting out bad weather at base camp. They graded the climb M7 AI5 A2+.

It was the second overall ascent of Aikache Chhok.

Tom Hunt's attempt to break Vincent Colliard's blistering Hercules Inlet to South Pole speed record has come up short. Hunt needed to finish today, on December 22, to best Colliard's time of 22 days, 6 hours, and 8 minutes.

Hunt had kept a record pace for most of his expedition, but could not match Colliard's closing kick. On day 18, he managed 48km, a big day by any standard, but short of what he required. This kilometer deficit then compounds, piling on the pressure for a big distance the following day. At that point, Hunt still held out hope, keeping his fingers crossed for "less sastrugi, because that's what is really slowing me down."

Going for broke

On the evening of day 19, he decided to "go for broke," making one last run at the record. He planned to sleep little for the next three days and eat into his remaining food, including the supplies for future days.

At the time of our Antarctic update last Friday, Hunt needed to average over 60km per day to break the record. But by this point, his body was a "bit of a mess," and he was calorie-counting, with his food supplies perilously close to running out. Yesterday, he managed only around 30km.

"I didn't get any sleep, my body is drained," he said in an audio update. The sastrugi had flattened out, but the snow was powder -- "Pick your poison."

Hunt is still short of 89°. In his latest update, he details his discussions with Antarctica Logistics & Expeditions regarding a resupply. Clearly torn on the decision, and acknowledging that it might bankrupt him, he concluded it was too risky to continue without more food.

He is now heading to a supply drop that he expects to reach tomorrow before taking on the last degree. He has roughly 130km remaining to the South Pole.

The National Institute of Standards and Technology (NIST) fulfills a vital role in national security: employing the sort of people who would, if they got bored, take over the world. It takes a specific kind of person to run the persnickety gravitational calculations of exactly how fast clocks tick on Mars relative to the Earth.

Thanks to NIST, two of these people have recently published their calculations, instead of building a lair under a volcano to perform evil experiments. They found that Mars time runs faster than Earth time, and considerably messier.

The purpose of clock rate models

In strong gravitational fields, time flows more slowly. Albert Einstein first described this effect, known as time dilation, in his 1915 theory of general relativity. Scientists working in precision timekeeping must account not only for the Earth's gravity, but also that of the Sun and Moon.

They have become very good at that. The evidence is on your phone: the accuracy of GPS is thanks to minute adjustments to clock rates in different locations around the Earth.

Future spacefarers will need to know the exact time on Mars relative to the Earth. Any kind of precision location system, such as GPS, depends on clock rate conversions. The new paper from NIST models the gravitational field on Mars at different points throughout its orbit to predict what that clock rate should be. They double-check their results using in-situ gravitational observations from Mars.

Mars' messy time

Modelling Martian time is a lot more complicated than it is for the Earth. Not only is it harder to actually take measurements that would allow scientists to check their math, but the math itself also involves more factors.

Mars' lower mass means gravity is a lot weaker on its surface than on Earth. Even without external effects, Martian time flows faster than Earth time.

But the Mars time to Earth time conversion depends on a lot more than Mars's gravitational field. The biggest complication for time on Mars is the eccentricity of its orbit. Eccentricity describes how elongated and oval-shaped an orbit is, as opposed to circular. Since Mars' orbit is considerably more eccentric than Earth's, its distance from the Sun varies much more.

Mars's lower mass, only 10% of the Earth's, also makes it easier for other bodies in the Solar System to push it around. While the motion of Mars doesn't affect the Earth's gravity much, the motion of Earth matters a lot to Mars.

The ever-changing locations of the Sun and the Earth push and pull on the surface gravity of Mars and, consequently, its clock rate.

We understand Earth time 100 times better than Mars time

Although Mars time changes over the course of a Martian year, the authors found an average difference of 421.5 microseconds (millionths of a second, or μs) per day between Mars and the Earth. It doesn't sound like much, but think of it this way: For every day that passes on Earth, Mars falls behind our clocks by 421.5 μs. If we don't model and compensate for the difference, that's enough to render 5G wireless, for instance, totally useless.

By predicting this discrepancy, the authors have theoretically enabled 5G cell service on Mars, although some minor technological advancements will be necessary to make this happen. But their model does come with big error bars.

Make no mistake: the new model of Martian time is vastly more precise than the previous model. (The previous model was created by the exact same people who made the new one, because NIST only employs people with worrying dedication.) Nonetheless, it fits the data about a hundred times worse than the current best model of Moon to Earth time conversion. You'll never guess who the authors are on that one.

When they compare their model of clock rate to real gravitational observations from Mars, their guesses are only off by an average of 100 ns (a billionth of a second) every day. This is astoundingly precise, but still a hundred times worse than their errors on the Moon, which are about 1 ns every day. Mars is a messier place to visit than the Moon, and time runs strangely there.

This summer, Pakistani climbers climbed the elusive 7,708m Tirich Mir for the first time. On August 1 and August 19, two local teams reported summits. Recent accusations sent to several media outlets by an eyewitness have now cast doubt on one of these remarkable achievements. The person claims that the team he was involved with never reached the top.

We contacted both teams for further details and summit proof, with varied results.

First summit reports

The leader of the first summit team, Abdul Joshi, submitted a press release with details of the climb and shared what they reported as a summit picture, below. Unfortunately, it includes no geographical references.

Joshi climbed with a group of guides from Shimshal: Hameed Ullah, Faryad Karim, Mansoor Karim, and Nisar Ahmed. They reportedly summited after a 20-hour push from Camp 3. Joshi wrote in a press release that the team climbed a new route on the west face of the mountain, which he named after himself (the Abdul Joshi route).

From 6,700m upward, the terrain became highly technical, with deep crevasses, steep ice, and dangerous glacier crossings, Joshi wrote. “The most critical part began at 7,450m with exposed rock, followed by a deadly mix of ice and rock at 7,600m.”

At the time of Joshi's press release, a second Pakistani team, formed by Sirbaz Khan and Abid Baig, reported their later success on social media but had not yet submitted a complete report.

The accusation

Last week, we (among other specialized media) received an email from someone who identified himself as a member of the first expedition team (and asked to remain anonymous while the case was under investigation), reporting "serious concerns regarding Mr. Abdul Joshi’s conduct during our recent expedition to Tirich Mir."

"Due to deteriorating weather conditions, we were unable to reach the summit and turned back at approximately 7,600m. Abdul asked me to take a photo from below. At that point, Abdul proposed that we falsify our summit success, assuring us of significant financial compensation in return."

The team member noted that in the end, they did not receive their promised reward. He also explains that a close examination of the reported summit image reveals that the climbers are not on the summit. The climbers' sunglasses reflect a snowy slope in front of them and the person taking the picture. We'll come back to this.

Tirich Mir background

The highest peak of the Hindu Kush, 7,708m Tirich Mir was first climbed by a Norwegian expedition in 1950. In 1967, a Czech team summited via the northwest face from the Tirich Glacier. Nowadays, it's considered the normal route up the mountain.

Tirich Mir became quite popular among climbers during the 1970s, but Pakistan's authorities stopped granting permits soon after due to the closure of the nearby Afghanistan border.

There were no summit videos or GPS tracks in that era. The information is often not available online, which adds difficulty to any investigation related to disputed summit claims.

Tirich Mir's location. Photo: Medium.com

In the 21st century, Tirich Mir has had only two ascents: Jerome Chazelas and Thomas Quillet of France obtained a rare permit in 2016 and summited the main peak via a variation of the 1967 Czech route.

The second summit in the 2000s was done by Kayuza Hiraide and Kenro Nakajima of Japan, and it was a good one -- the first ascent of the previously unexplored north face. ExplorersWeb highlighted it as the best expedition of 2023. It was later awarded a Piolet d'Or -- posthumously, since by then, Hiraide and Nakajima had perished on the West Face of K2.

This year, local authorities announced they would waive the climbing royalty fees for Tirich Mir to celebrate the 75th anniversary of the 1950 first ascent. However, a Slovenian team that tried to climb the peak in July was turned away from Base Camp by officials, citing safety reasons. The next climbers to set foot on the mountain were the two Pakistani expeditions.

Sirbaz Khan and Abid Baig's report

ExplorersWeb checked with Abid Baig and Sirbaz Khan, the two summiters of the second expedition, who reached the top of Tirish Mir on August 19. They provided plenty of summit proof: videos, photos with geographical references, InReach tracking data, and a description of their climb.

Translated into Google Earth, the coordinates do coincide with the summit of Tirich Mir.

Sirbaz Khan was Pakistan's first 14x8,000m summiter, and Abid Baig is also a professional mountaineer who has summited Gasherbrum I, Broad Peak, and Nanga Parbat without supplementary oxygen.

For Sirbaz Khan, this was a very special summit. "It is not only the first all-Pakistani ascent of the mountain, but also part of [my] project to climb the highest peak of the three major ranges of Pakistan: K2 in the Karakoram, Nanga Parbat in the Himalaya, and Tirich Mir in the Hindu Kush."

'The ropes were a great help'

Khan and Baig climbed using the ropes previously fixed by Joshi’s team weeks before.

"Some of the ropes were partially buried and covered in frost, so we had to replace them in those sections," Baig said. "Still, the ropes fixed by Joshi were a great help, as they allowed us to follow the route without having to scout it ourselves. It was a significant assistance, especially for direction keeping.

“The ropes ended at approximately 7,550m, [at the exit of a deep couloir] with no indications [footprints, etc.] beyond that point,” Baig said.

From that point to the 7,708m summit of Tirich Mir, Khan and Baig needed three more hours.

“Once out of the couloir, the terrain was less steep and not very technical so we didn’t need our ice tools, but the progress was slow and tiring due to deep snow and several boulders," Baig said.

Baig mentioned that there were other climbers on their team, but only he and Sirbaz Khan reached the top.

Baig also posted details of the climb on his Instagram account:

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Tirich Mir’s summit is flat and snowy, as shown in Baig and Khan’s summit video and in photographs of previous summiters, such as the 1967 climbers.

Below, Sirbaz Khan and Abid Baig's 15-minute video report also includes footage of them on the flattish summit of Tirich Mir:

Variation route?

Both expeditions followed the same route up the mountain. At the time, Abdul Joshi claimed it was a new line. However, the data and topos provided tell a different story.

Baig told ExplorersWeb that he had already attempted Tirich Mir the previous year and that they chose their line based on the information available about the 1967 Czech route.

“I already attempted Tirich Mir in September 2024 with Marie Saame of Estonia, which was unfortunately called off due to an accident at Camp 2," he said. "We studied route options in advance and found this route, opened in 1967, as the most suitable."

The topos provided by the two Pakistani teams show they followed the 1967 Czech route until at least the final section. The Czech route follows a couloir to the west col at 7,200m, while the Pakistani topos show they climbed toward the main summit via the southwest face. Apparently, they followed a different couloir to the summit ridge. In that case, they climbed a variation of the original line.

The 2016 French expedition also climbed a variation route of the original Czech line. It looks similar to what the Pakistanis did. Here is what Lindsay Griffin wrote for the American Alpine Journal:

"The crux of the [1967 Czech] route is a couloir above the normal site of Camp 3 (ca. 6,700m). Here, rather than climb the couloir directly, the two moved out left onto snow slopes and climbed more mixed ground to the ridge above. They placed a high camp above the couloir at 7,200m and then took six hours to reach the summit."

In the UK, the Alpine Journal added a short note to their 2017 report for Central Asia by Hugh Thomas. It indicates the 2016 French variation route went up the southwest face, similar to the Pakistanis. We are currently looking for a complete topo of that French route.

Avoiding controversy

Both Abid Baig and Sirbaz Khan have remarked that they have no opinions about how far the other team got, as they don’t wish to be involved in any controversy. Moreover, they point out the prestigious climbing resumé of Abdul Joshi.

"He is a respected and experienced mountaineer with many notable achievements," they said. "On Tirich Mir, they fixed ropes up the hardest part of the route, a very steep couloir above Camp 3, which were essential for us."

Baig suggests that the Alpine Club of Pakistan (ACP) is the proper institution to investigate the climb, if necessary.

Abdul Joshi's take

Needless to say, we asked Abdul Joshi for his side of the story, details about the summit picture, and further proof, if available. Here is what he said:

We went until Camp 3 without fixing any ropes. Camp 3 was at 6,530m. We started fixing ropes after Camp 3 from 6,700m. It was a couloir with a mix of ice and snow in the beginning and then rock and snow from 7,450m to 7,600m.

Beyond 7,600m, the slope was not as steep. More like a gradual incline with big rock boulders, and the route goes through them. We did not fix ropes beyond 7,600m and climbed just by roping up with each other for safety.

The last part was like a snow dome which we crossed and came on the top. From there, there was nothing left to climb upward. I am positive that we reached the summit.

 

As we were fixing ropes ourselves, we got really late in reaching the summit. The visibility was very low. In the summit picture, you see a portion of the sky but all around us, we could not see a lot.

If the experts feel that the usual summit picture spot was a few meters left or right [horizontally], they might be correct, but I am sure that I was at the highest point [vertically] on the mountain. The snow slope ended there, and there was nothing left to climb.

Had we reached earlier with better weather conditions, I might have roamed around on the summit for a better picture and video showing the 360-degree view. But we reached very late. The visibility was really low. The wind was blowing hard. My mobile phone was dead, otherwise I could have taken a screenshot showing the altitude.

I was leading a team of five as the expedition leader. At that time, the safety of all the team members was my biggest concern. So when I was sure that we have reached the top, I did not waste anytime in moving around on the summit. There was only one guy whose phone was working. He took the team picture and we started the descent right away. I am happy that all members reached back safe and sound without any problems.

ExplorersWeb noted the summit picture he provided showed a fairly clear day with no sign of fog or blizzard. Joshi replied that they were not in a total whiteout, but the visibility was still pretty bad.

"Maybe it looks better in the picture," he said.

Joshi insisted he saw no higher point around them and didn't take more pictures due to the late hour.

"I did not see any spot where I felt like we should go to take the picture. If the visibility had been better, maybe I would have seen it and would have gone there."

We also mentioned the climbers' sunglasses seem to reflect a snowy slope in front of them and not the horizon, as one might expect on a flat plateau. Joshi replied that the group in the picture was standing at the top of that slope.

"We came up from that slope, but it ended where we are standing. You can see that it does not continue behind us, as there was not enough space to stand around us on the top; one guy took the picture from the slope."

However, summit pictures of other climbing teams show a rather roomy summit.

As for the confusion concerning the claim of a new route, Joshi just said he never looked at the history of the mountain to check if someone else had climbed his chosen line before:

I can tell you in detail about the route. How and why i chose it. The exact line. But i don't know a lot about the history. You can check it for me if it was climbed before or not. What I can tell however is that there was absolutely no signs of anyone or anything. We fixed the ropes and left them there for future expeditions, so my team decided to name the route after me.

Alpine Club of Pakistan

In the end, we can only gather as many facts as possible from the climbers, but it is not up to us to draw conclusions. As Baig suggested, we turned to the Alpine Club of Pakistan and contacted vice-president Karrar Haidr for his comments on the matter. Here is his reply:

At this stage, the Alpine Club of Pakistan has not received any formal or documented claim from Mr. Abdul Joshi confirming a successful summit of Tirich Mir. Consequently, we are not in a position to verify or endorse such reports. As per standard practice, the Alpine Club of Pakistan relies on verifiable evidence and official submissions before recognizing or commenting on summit claims. Should any such documentation be submitted, it will be reviewed accordingly.

Asked about whether he has submitted an expedition report to the ACP, Abdul Joshi said he has not, and he has never done such a thing after any of his climbs.

"Every time, I post the summit picture and share the expedition summary on my social media; same like this time," he explained.

Joshi added that the officials at the Alpine Club also wrote about his Tirich Mir expedition. He is right; the Alpine Club posted about both Pakistani expeditions on social media in August:

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As for Khan and Baig, they told ExplorersWeb they submitted the pertinent documentation, photos, and report, but they have not received a response yet.

Since our last roundup, the hurricane season has subsided, and action has resumed on the oceans. The annual World's Toughest Row has started, and one independent soloist is attempting to cross the Atlantic. Meanwhile, Dave Bell is taking on what could be the longest ever single-stage row in the Pacific.

Atlantic Ocean

World's Toughest Row: The 2025 World’s Toughest Row, previously known as the Talisker Whisky Atlantic Challenge, started on December 14. Forty-three teams and 114 rowers pushed off from La Gomera in the Canary Islands. Over the coming weeks, they will battle 4,828km across the Atlantic to Antigua. 

Initially, the race was scheduled to start on December 11, but after a Yellow Wind Warning was issued, the organizers had to delay.

“In these conditions, we cannot deliver a safe, controlled departure," they commented. "While some crews may be able to manage stronger weather, start decisions must be right for the entire fleet." 

So far, the crews have faced the same challenges that every ocean rower confronts on their first few days. Seasickness has been common, and fatigue is setting in as they all adjust to the two-hour on, two-hour off schedule. Pulling away from the coastline in windy conditions has been a struggle. However, nearly all the updates from the crews have been positive. 

Four down to three

The four-person "Scotland the Wave" crew has had the hardest start. Yesterday, they were instructed to seek emergency help for one crew member who had been struggling with illness since the start of the row. Andrena McShane-Kerr has now been removed from the boat, and the three remaining women on the team have decided to continue as a trio. They are now doing their best to catch up with other boats. 

Race statistics so far:

Leading: 44West

Leading four: 44West

Leading trio: Southsea Scullers

Leading pair: Stelantic

Leading soloist: The Jasper

Rebecca Ferry (UK): Rebecca Ferry is solo rowing across the Atlantic from Gran Canaria to Barbados. After three days, she has covered just over 300km of the 4,911km route. She is taking a more southerly route to take advantage of favorable currents and to avoid the low-pressure systems that may occur in the North Atlantic. 

Ferry has shared very little about her journey, but her tracker provides daily updates on her position. Her biggest challenge so far has been the autopilot, which stopped working yesterday due to problems with the fuse. Luckily, she brought many spares with her, and after replacing the fuse, the autopilot is functioning again. 

Pacific Ocean

Dave Bell (UK): After solo rowing 5,000km from New York to Britain in 2021, Dave Bell has decided to attempt a mammoth 25,000km row across both the Pacific and Indian Oceans. 

He began on November 9 from Peru and will first row to Australia. He then hopes to continue through the Torres Strait, a notoriously difficult stretch of water, around the top of Australia, and into the Indian Ocean.

From here, he will head to Mauritius. With 330 days of food on his boat, he does not plan to stop or receive support at any point. If successful, it will be the longest ever single-stage unsupported row. 

He has given no updates since starting, but his tracker indicates that he has covered about 3,600km.

It's time for our annual countdown of ExplorersWeb's most interesting expeditions of the year. From December 21 to December 30, we'll summarize our favorites and make a case for why we liked them so much. Today, Kilian Jornet's speed linkup of all 72 of the 14,000-foot peaks in the Lower 48 by human power alone.

This was one of Jornet's most ambitious projects yet -- straightforward in concept but immense in scope. He would climb and connect all those 14'ers by running, hiking, climbing, and cycling. No motorized transport was allowed at any point, echoing the style of his 2024 Alpine Connections project in Europe.

The challenge took place in three states: Colorado, which holds most of the 14,000'ers; California, with a dozen in the Sierra Nevada; and Washington, home to a big volcano in the Cascades -- 72 peaks in all.

Jornet's 14,000'ers excluded a couple of inaccessible ones on private land, such as Culebra Peak and Mount Bross in Colorado. He drew inspiration from the wild landscapes of the American West, community suggestions shared on social media, and input from friends like ultrarunner and iRunFar editor Meghan Hicks. Routes incorporated classic traverses proposed by locals, like Nolan's 14 in Colorado's Sawatch Range.

The start

Jornet kicked off on September 3, starting with Longs Peak in Colorado's Rocky Mountain National Park. He confronted some of the most demanding sections at the beginning. His first major effort was the LA Freeway traverse along the Continental Divide, linking Longs Peak to South Arapaho Peak while staying above 12,000 feet for much of the way.

He finished in about 16 hours, despite arriving in the United States with little acclimatization and battling jet lag. Afternoon storms, a common hurdle in Colorado, forced adjustments early on, adding hours to his days of summiting Front Range peaks like Mount Blue Sky (formerly Evans), Bierstadt, Grays, and Torreys.

In the first few days, Jornet notched 13 summits. He covered around 570km and logged nearly 80 hours of activity. He pushed through clusters like the Mosquito Range peaks -- Democrat, Lincoln, and Sherman -- and made quick ascents, such as on Holy Cross in under four hours for the round trip.

With minimal rest, fatigue built quickly. He often slept for just a few hours a night in campgrounds or along the trail. One supposed "rest" day involved an 87km bike ride over Independence Pass to the next range.

Ramping up

As September progressed, the intensity ramped up. Jornet tackled the notorious Elks Traverse southwest of Aspen, linking seven technical 14,000'ers, including Capitol Peak, Snowmass, the Maroon Bells, Pyramid, and Castle, over an 80km route. This took three nonstop days and ended at 2 am on September 9. During that whole time, he managed only a little sleep amid storms and high exposure.

Soon after, he completed Nolan's 14, a 161km line across 14 peaks in the Sawatch, including standouts like Mount Massive and Mount Elbert (the highest in the Rockies). He ran much of this solo into the night, joining runner Sage Canaday for the final three. He finished at dawn on September 11, after about 47 hours of continuous movement, buoyed -- if you can call it that -- by just a 30-minute nap.

Pushing through Colorado’s peaks

Wildfires forced reroutes, and changing weather brought rain, storms, and cold. One particularly grueling day included a 160km bike ride in pouring rain to Pikes Peak, followed by a fast ascent and descent in under four hours.

By midway through the Colorado section, Jornet had summited 33 of the state's 58 accessible 14,000'ers, leaving 25 to go. He often climbed multiple peaks in a single push, sometimes five in 14 hours, interspersed with 75-80km of daily biking on gravel roads and passes.

After 16 relentless days in Colorado, Jornet wrapped up the last of the state's 58 peaks above 14,000 feet. In that stretch alone, he covered 1,942km, with 78,004m of elevation gain, roughly the height of nine Everests.

About half the distance was on foot or climbing, the rest cycling. He averaged 16.5 hours of activity per day, running marathon distances and biking long hauls, while dealing with altitude, bad weather, and wildfires. Tired but determined, he then pedaled south and west through dry, hot deserts toward California's Sierra Nevada.

From Sierra to the Cascades

Jornet covered this California stage efficiently and soon knocked off the state's 12 14,000'ers, including the highest in the lower 48, Mount Whitney. At one point, he cycled 626km in under 30 hours. From there, he continued north, summiting Mount Shasta on September 30 amid snow and brutal winds that dropped the windchill to -20°C.

With Shasta as his 71st peak, only Mount Rainier and its subsidiary, Liberty Cap, remained. Jornet biked a staggering 788km in just three days across Oregon into Washington, pushing through cumulative fatigue. His biometric data showed his average sleep dipped below five hours nightly, his heart rate variability dropped sharply, and his resting heart rate climbed.

72 united by human power

On October 4, 31 days after starting at Longs Peak, Jornet reached Mount Rainier's summit. Facing subzero temperatures, glacial ice, and technical climbing, this final ascent marked the completion of all 72 accessible 14,000'ers. In total, he had traveled over 5,000km by foot and bike, averaging more than 160km per day. The journey spanned extreme contrasts, from desert heat above 38°C to freezing Cascade winds.

Throughout, Jornet shared that the project was as much about the "quiet miles" and "shared ridges" between the summits as the peaks themselves. He valued the process, the wild spaces, and the community input that shaped his routes. This endeavor stood as a historic linking of America's high peaks, building on Jornet's legacy of pushing human limits in the mountains.

It's time for our annual countdown of what ExplorersWeb considers the most interesting expeditions of the year. For the next 10 days, we'll summarize our favorites and make a case for why we liked them so much. We'll kick off with Christina Lustenberger and Guillaume Pierrel's ski descent of the south face of Mount Robson.

On their own, both Lustenberger of Canada and Pierrel of France are remarkable freeride skiers. As a team, they are even more daring. After skiing down New Zealand's Mount Aoraki-Mount Cook last year, the pair headed in 2025 to British Columbia in western Canada, to make the first ski descent of the south face of 3,954m Mt. Robson, the highest peak in the Canadian Rockies.

Double climb

Before skiing down Robson, the peak obviously has to be climbed, and that is a challenge in itself. Lustenberg and Pierrel did it -- twice.

Raised in British Columbia, Lustenberger had been eyeing the south face of Robson for years. After Mount Cook, she felt she had found the ideal ski partner for the challenge.

The pair spent two bitterly cold days, February 12-13, climbing the peak's Great Couloir (WI3), including a freezing bivy on a ledge. Their plan was to ski the couloir all the way down from the summit, but the weather worsened faster than expected.

"We got within 200m of the summit, and due to the storm pressing against us, we turned around…knowing we had a huge amount of terrain below us,” Lustenberger told ExplorersWeb at the time. “It was extremely hard to retreat when we were so close.”

In fading light, and eventually in the dark, the pair had to reverse technically difficult pitches, ski in poor snow conditions, and rappel seven pitches. They made it back to their base by 10 pm.

Back for more

At the time, both Pierrel and Lustenberger felt they were done, but 24 hours of rest and better conditions drove them back to the mountain.

On February 15, they went up and pitched their tent on the Dome (a subpeak). At first light on February 16, in the cold, they climbed the Kain Face (the southeast side) to the summit. It was not easy, as the climbers had to traverse up the upper 200m in unknown mixed terrain until they reached the highest point they'd managed two days before.  "That was exhausting, physically and mentally,” Lustenberger said.

They were rewarded for their boldness with a bluebird summit day.

However, they had little time to rest, with 3,000 vertical meters of descent ahead. Luckily, some fresh snow and the February sun on the face had improved the snow conditions for the descent down the Great Couloir.

3,000 meters down

The ski descent took them 3.5 hours, and again, the seven rappels on highly exposed terrain. As Lustenberger explained later, there was no break in the constant stress, as the entire ski line was highly exposed. While they were in the couloir, they were exposed to any rock or avalanche that fell from any altitude, as all would funnel down the tube-like corridor.

Mount Robson is the highest peak of the Canadian Rockies and the most prominent peak in North America. It has been skied three times before, but the previous descents were down the North, or Kain, Face.

In May 2017, 25-year-old Emma Freeman became the first woman to ski Robson. She did so via the Kain route, with partner Jesse Milner, with no rappels from the summit to Berg Lake. "This was actually the second time we skied it," Milner told ExplorersWeb. "The first time, we had to do a couple rappels." Lustenberger was thus the second woman to ski the peak.

Skiing background

Lustenberger noted that as a skier and an explorer, she has learned to look at mountains differently. That perspective has allowed her to complete some difficult lines around the world. In 2024, she skied down the Great Trango Tower in Pakistan, with Jim Morrison and Chantel Astorga, and New Zealand’s Mount Cook with Guillaume Pierrel.

Pierrel skied down Gasherbrum II in 2021. At home in the French Alps, he skied the North Face of the Dru near Chamonix and the Picco Luigi Amedeo on the Italian side of the Mont Blanc massif, with Vivian Bruchez.

On their second, successful climb to the summit, the skiers had a film crew with them, so they now have a film documenting the feat. After a premiere at the Banff Mountain Film Festival, the pair is presenting at several spots in Europe. Here's a teaser:

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When we’re not outdoors, we get our adventure fix by exploring social media and the web. Here are some of the best adventure links we’ve discovered this week.

In Alaska’s Warming Arctic, an Indigenous Elder Passes Down Hunting Traditions: Climate change and the approval of a new mining road through Kotzebue, Alaska are having a huge impact on traditional indigenous life. Inupiaq hunter and fisher Roswell Schaeffer teaches his great-grandson how to hunt in a landscape that is changing beyond repair. 

The Story of California’s Mythic Giant Rock: Giant Rock is a colossal freestanding boulder near Landers, California. It is one of the Mojave Desert’s most surreal attractions and among the largest rocks on Earth. For decades, the roughly seven-story-tall, 30,000-ton rock has spawned questions: Was it deposited in the desert during the last Ice Age, as a jumbo erratic? Or was it created by erosion, or, ahem, left by aliens? 

The future of search and rescue?

The Rescue Robot Dog: Engineering students at Texas A&M University have built an AI-powered robotic dog that could be the future of search-and-rescue missions. The robotic canine “sees, remembers, and thinks.” Using a memory-driven navigation system and voice-command recognition to plan paths and avoid obstacles, the practical -- but admittedly creepy-looking creature -- could transform search-and-rescue operations in remote terrain. 

The Wall of Walls: Veteran climber Will Gadd chronicles his multi-year quest in Canada's Kootenay mountains to find hidden ice routes to climb. Over the last three years, with partner Kirk Mauthner, Gadd has established multiple lines, including Enduro, Relentless, Infinite Gratitude, and 118. All these routes are on an immense face they call the "Wall of Walls." 

Astronauts rank spaceships

The Best Fictional Spaceships According to Astronauts: Space travel is a cornerstone of the sci-fi genre, and real astronauts love it. Four European Space Agency astronauts discuss the sci-fi spacecrafts they would most like to command. They single out iconic vessels like the USS Enterprise-D from Star Trek: The Next Generation, Han Solo’s Millennium Falcon from Star Wars, and the Rocinante from The Expanse. 

I’ve Been Guiding Mount Everest For a Decade: A veteran mountain guide pulls back the curtain on what it is like to work on the world’s highest mountain. Guiding on Everest blends adventure with the constant pressure to keep demanding clients alive and content. The days are long, it strains personal relationships, and you are thrown into life-and-death situations. However, for many guides, the upside outweighs the challenges. For example, the average guide earns $20,000 per Everest climb, and if you own your own business, it can be double that.

Canadian whitewater

A New Generation is Shaping the Future of the Nahanni River: Paddling Magazine’s founder Scott MacGregor recounts a two-week journey down the legendary 337km South Nahanni River in Canada’s Northwest Territories. The lead guide is his 19-year-old son. The route includes a floatplane flight, Class I and II whitewater -- the guided section of the river is pretty easy -- and stunning views of Virginia Falls. He highlights how a new generation of outfitters and indigenous partnerships is shaping the future of paddling on the river.

Over 30 Years After Climbers Were Banned, A Historic Bouldering Area Reopens: With hundreds of bouldering problems, the Howard Knob site above Boone, North Carolina, was once popular with climbing icons. However, in 1993, a developer bought the land and banned climbing. Now, 32 years later, the Blue Ridge Conservancy, with long-time support from the Access Fund and the Carolina Climbers’ Coalition, officially purchased 73 acres of the historic Black Gneiss bouldering field.

Lane Christenson and Dalton Borton of the U.S. have called off their attempt to climb Alaska's Mt. McKinley in winter just two days after being dropped on the ice.

The pair set off from the base of Heartbreak Hill up the Kahiltna Glacier yesterday, fighting high winds, their team told the Alpymon blog. At the end of the day, they dug a snow cave to shelter from the wind.

At around 4 pm, the wind rose suddenly to nearly 145kph, with a temperature of -16ºC. The forecast confirmed that conditions would remain bad for several days, so the pair decided to abort the expedition.

They have called for a pickup, but the air taxi service needs to wait for better conditions for a safe flight. Meanwhile, Christenson and Borton have pitched their tent and sheltered it from the high winds with a wall of snow and are now in waiting mode.

Over six days in December, French alpinist Charles Dubouloz soloed the iconic Divine Providence route on the Grand Pilier d'Angle (4,243m). He then continued to the summit of Mont Blanc.

Between December 9-14, with five hanging bivouacs, Dubouloz began his journey on December 7 by cycling 120km from his home in Annecy to Chamonix in heavy rain, pulling a loaded trailer with his gear.

The next day, accompanied by friend Antoine Bouqueret on skis, he climbed 2,500m across the Mer de Glace to the Torino Refuge. Other friends joined briefly to help carry the equipment, allowing Dubouloz to arrive prepared at the base of the route.

On December 9, he started alone up the 900m face of the Grand Pilier d’Angle. Short daylight hours and intense cold defined the mid-December conditions. Over the following days, he climbed through demanding mixed terrain, setting five hanging bivouacs and hauling heavy loads.

Dubouloz topped out on the Grand Pilier d’Angle on December 13. Exhausted, he made one more bivouac above 4,000m. The following morning, he continued along the exposed upper Peuterey Ridge, reaching the summit of Mont Blanc in the early afternoon of December 14.

Unfavorable weather ruled out his plan to paraglide down, so he decided to walk back to Chamonix. The entire adventure took eight days and resulted in an eight-kilo weight loss. Dubouloz described the experience as one of extreme fatigue that stripped everything to its essentials.

The ascent marked the first chapter of a larger winter project, his Winter Trilogy, which aims to link iconic routes across the Alps and Pyrenees using only human-powered travel.

Route history

The 900m Divine Providence route is graded ED+, with rock sections up to 7b+. It is considered one of the most iconic and demanding lines in the Mont Blanc massif.

French climbers Patrick Gabarrou and Francois Marsigny first ascended the route over four days in the summer of 1984, using aid on harder pitches. Alain Ghersen and Thierry Renault did the first free ascent in July 1990. Later that summer, Jean-Christophe Lafaille completed the first solo ascent in August 1990, describing it as the most difficult and committing route in the entire massif.

Winter conditions add significant challenges due to cold, short days, and altered terrain. Italians Roberto Bressan, Saverio Occhi, and Paolo Tamagnini made the first winter ascent to the top of the Grand Pilier d’Angle in 1992. The first complete winter ascent to the summit of Mont Blanc followed later that year, by Brendan Murphy and Dave Wills. Alain Ghersen achieved the first winter solo in February 1993.

This recent ascent is considered a major milestone because winter solos on this route are extremely rare. It’s only the second-known winter solo of the full route. Charles Dubouloz is well-known for his historic solo winter ascent of the Rolling Stones route on the Grandes Jorasses in January 2022.

The Kaamos Road follows French cyclist and filmmaker Joffrey Maluski on a winter journey along the Arctic Circle. On his 1,500km, 25-day expedition through Lapland, he carries everything he needs on his bicycle, barely seeing the sun.

The journey begins not on a bike but on a series of nine trains, which takes Maluski from the south of France to Bodo, Norway. There, he assembles his bike, on which he will carry his fuel, gear, and tent.

While he waits for the ferry to the Lofoten islands, he explains the plan. Starting from this archipelago, he'll cycle across Norway, Finland, and Sweden. The "kaamos" of The Kaamos Road is the Finnish word for the polar night. His entire journey takes place during a time when the sun barely breaches the horizon.

Through the frozen dark

He does enjoy a few hours of muted light every day, but the rest of the time, Maluski bikes through the dark. After six days of riding through lashing rain and icy wind, he reaches the Swedish border.

With every kilometer, he reminds us, he pushes deeper into the Arctic. Sunlight becomes even rarer, even as the camera lingers on the rosy, perpetually dawning skies. The scenery comes with fairly brutal conditions for a bike ride. After one 110km day, where temperatures never rose above -16˚C, Maluski shows us the icicles hanging from his face.

His journey quickly settles into a daily routine. At eight, he gets up, eats, and waits for the dawn. Around 10 am, he starts biking. He captures as much film and photographs as he can before it sets again at 1:30 pm. He keeps biking in the darkness, covering between 60 and 100 kilometers. His toes, he reports, are painfully cold, all day, every day.

The temperatures only drop as he nears the final stretch, crossing back into Norway. When he shows us his morning routine, he admits how hard it is to will himself out of his sleeping bag into the -23˚C morning and onto his waiting bike.

After the 25th consecutive morning of such hardship, Maluski arrives in Vardo, Norway.

Lane Christenson and Dalton Borton of the U.S. will spend a lonely Christmas on the flanks of 6,190m Mt. McKinley. The young pair, 22 and 20 respectively, flew two days ago to the Kahiltna Glacier for a winter attempt on the highest peak in North America.

Located in Alaska, McKinley (better known as Denali) is also the tallest mountain in the world from base to summit, with 5,500m of vertical gain.

Despite their age, the climbers, both students at the University of Alaska Anchorage, are experienced in their state's cold, high mountains. Borton summited McKinley in 2022 at age 17. One year later, he climbed its Cassin Ridge in March to get familiar with wintry conditions.

Christenson climbed it earlier this year, during the typical late spring, to prepare for this winter ascent. In 2023, he summited 2,440m Bashful Peak, the highest peak in Anchorage's Chugach State Park.

This winter experience will provide a new dimension of hardship. They will be completely alone in the huge Alaska range, with extreme temperatures during the shortest days of the year. Due to its latitude, it will be dark most of the time and colder than the high Himalaya.

Less than 20 winter summits

Only 17 people have summited McKinley in winter.  Four climbers died on the ascent, and two perished on the way down during those climbs, according to Denali National Park's archives. Art Davidson, Ray Genet, and Dave Johnston did the first successful winter ascent over a period of 42 days in 1967.

Interestingly, only two people have summited Denali in winter in the last decade, both on solo climbs: Lonnie Dupre's in 2015 and Jost Kobusch's in 2023.

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Heavy loads

The climbers recorded a video explaining their choice of gear, which includes down suits and boots commonly used for 8,000'ers, together with fuel, food, climbing gear, extra clothing, sleds, and skis. They estimate they will start up the mountain dragging 200 pounds (91kg).

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Our view of space is under threat from the rapidly growing cloud of satellites circling the planet. Streaks of reflected light from satellites are ruining space telescope images all over the world.

The problem stems from the explosion of satellite megaconstellations being launched into orbit.

“Until now, most light pollution came from cities and vehicles,” says Alejandro Borlaff of NASA. "[Now] telecommunication satellite constellations is rapidly affecting astronomical observatories worldwide."

It's bound to get worse. Companies such as SpaceX, OneWeb, Amazon, and others have plans to launch hundreds of thousands of small satellites into low orbit over the next decade. Currently, more than 15,000 satellites orbit the Earth, up from 2,000 just a few years ago. But that number could balloon to more than half a million by the late 2030s.

These satellites are already a problem. Long-exposure images at twilight or dawn is the ideal way to capture faint cosmic objects. But bright satellite trails now routinely mar the field of view, affecting astronomers' ability to collect data. 

Space telescopes also affected

The problem isn’t limited to telescopes on Earth. Even telescopes in space, including the Hubble Space Telescope, are not immune to this form of light pollution. Up to 33 percent of Hubble’s images could be contaminated with streaks by the mid-2030s if these satellite megaconstellations expand as planned. Others could see more than 95 percent of their exposures affected.

As a satellite crosses a telescope’s field of view, the reflected sunlight creates a bright line or “photobomb” across the image.

“As telescopes stare at the Universe attempting to unveil distant galaxies, planets, and asteroids, satellites sometimes cross in front of the cameras, leaving bright traces of light that erase the dim signal that we receive from the cosmos,” said Borlaff. 

Last year, the International Astronomical Union Centre for the Protection of the Dark and Quiet Sky issued a series of recommendations for satellite companies to help protect our view of space. Their proposals include making the satellites less reflective and adjusting orbits to minimize the times when they cross busy observation zones. 

Colin O'Brady's time in Antarctica isn't getting any faster. After two weeks of "nearly continuous whiteouts," he took a rest day on day 30 of his expedition. After spending a day eating and sleeping, he awoke to fresh snow, hardly ideal conditions to pull his 180kg sled. He made a go of it, but managed less than 10km in 10 hours.

O'Brady reported more whiteout conditions for days 32 and 33, though his photos appear to show at least enough light to make out the horizon. Day 33 surprised him with warm temperatures, enough to see him "fully stripped down, shirt off, no snow suit, otherwise, I’d be drenched in sweat."

However, warm conditions don't make for easier hauling, keeping the snow soft. O'Brady was forced to double-haul, covering three kilometers for every one kilometer of forward progress.

In his most recent update, on day 36 of his journey, the sun finally emerged, but only at 1 am. By the time O'Brady left his tent at 6 am, the world had returned to a white haze.

O'Brady's tracker puts him near 82°S. Though the tracker doesn't provide distances, by our estimates, he has done just 80km in the last week due to the tough conditions. On this 2,865km expedition, he has skied roughly 320km so far -- about 11 percent of the distance in one-third of the total time he has. This leaves a daunting sprint ahead of him, even with two months of supplies remaining.

The South Pole of Inaccessibility

Last week, kite-skiing pair Matthieu Tordeur and Heidi Sevestre made it to one of the most remote spots on the planet, the South Pole of Inaccessibility. They arrived on day 42 of their expedition, after 1,800km from the Russian research station Novolazarevskaya.

Now on day 47, they are making good time (and distance), despite stopping every two hours to check surface radar data.

Hercules Inlet

American Monet Izabeth is 22 days into her journey from Hercules Inlet to the South Pole and continues to struggle with polar thigh (a friction rash). By adding extra layers to keep warm, Izabeth reports she is more prone to chafing and is "more susceptible to a fungal infection." However, she is picking up her pace and recently put in her longest daily distance, just over 25km.

Andrea Dorantes is also soldiering on, though she's had at least one scare. "There are moments that put your heart in your throat...like when I found a hole in the sled and a tank of fuel came out. What if it gets lost? The expedition is over," she wrote on her social media.

By "hole in the sled," she likely meant a gap in the sled cover, and that one fuel bottle fell out as the sled bounced over rough sastrugi. In the end, Dorantes found the fuel bottle and continues toward the Pole.

After his resupply at Thiels Corner, Sebastian Orskaug has made better progress and now has 273km remaining to the South Pole.

Speed record still within reach?

We may have jinxed Tom Hunt with our last update, in which we reported chipper updates and no major issues. Today, on day 19, Hunt reported "a big f* you to Garmin," after his primary GPS suffered a malfunction that sent him 10km in the wrong direction. This was a discouraging waste of time and energy for Hunt, who needed to average around 60km per day to beat Vincent Colliard's 22-day, 6-hour, and 8-minute time to the South Pole from Hercules Inlet.

He has around three days of food left, has recently found a bit of frostbite on his cheek, and has around 240km remaining -- meaning that he now needs to cover even more than 60km/day if he's to finish before his food runs out. It's going to be tight, both in terms of the record and reaching the Pole before running out of supplies. His updates, even while delivering a string of curses, continue to be an enjoyable listen.

Other expeditions

After 34 days, Ian Hughes is still making solid progress, averaging 25km per day despite the sastrugi. He has less than 250km to go to the South Pole and hopes to finish by Christmas Day.

Like O'Brady, the Norwegian duo of Kathinka and Emma Gyllenhammar report plenty of days with poor visibility:

"Today started in the glass of milk again," they wrote on day 33. In their latest update, they reached the Thiel Mountains and will now begin the uphill slog to the polar plateau and the South Pole.

Simone Moro was released from the hospital on Thursday and is heading back to Italy. His project to climb Manaslu in winter, alpine style, will have to wait. Climbing partner Oswald Pereira has confirmed the expedition is postponed at least until next year.

Moro explained that an echography revealed his coronary artery was completely free of the obstruction that had caused a heart attack last week while he was at 5,000m, just down from the summit of Mera Peak. The Italian climber underwent surgery to free the artery and has taken vasodilators, with excellent results.

His blood flow has increased by 45% in just five days, which Moro describes as an "almost miraculously fast recovery."  He is returning to Italy now for further tests.

No winter Manaslu

Meanwhile, his climbing partners are also moving on. Oswald Pereira of Poland has confirmed to ExplorersWeb that he will not climb Manaslu alone or with only Nima Rinji Sherpa. The winter Manaslu attempt is postponed at least until next year, he noted.

"The climbing project ended earlier than expected...I’m glad I could help when it mattered," he said today on Instagram.

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Karl Egloff of Ecuador will return to Everest this coming spring to again attempt the Fastest Known Time (FKT) for an unsupported return trip.

Egloff, who now lives in Switzerland, set speed records on Denali, Elbrus, Kilimanjaro, and Aconcagua. He wants to do the same with the remaining three Seven Summits, most of all Everest.

In 2026, besides Everest, he will also speed up Carstensz Pyramid (Punkak Jaya) in New Guinea. He will then target Antarctica's Vinson in January 2027.

Return trip vs uphill only

For Everest, the most remarkable detail is Egloff's determination to go without oxygen on a full return trip, running from Base Camp to the summit and back down to Base Camp.

"That's how I understand a mountaineering FKT must be, no matter what the peak," he told ExplorersWeb.

He achieved the speed record on Makalu in 2022 with fellow Ecuadorian Nico Miranda in the same round-trip, unsupported style. They went up and down Makalu in 25 hours and 48 minutes. He intends to complete his entire Seven Summits that way.

On Everest earlier this year, Egloff used the fixed ropes but not bottled oxygen. Nor did he ever stop his chronometer for rest breaks or to spend a few relaxed minutes on the summit.

In that sense, Egloff differs from American Tyler Andrews, who is also aiming for an Everest FKT, but just one way.

“I focus more on the uphill because that is historically what the records have been on 8,000’ers,” Andrews explained.

However, the American also mentioned that he will descend without supplementary oxygen except for health or safety reasons.

Previous attempts

Even though their approaches are different, the two runners enacted a kind of sporting duel last spring. Who would set the FKT? You could argue about round-trip versus one-way later.

Andrews had already made a previous FKT attempt on Everest in 2024, then launched three attempts last spring, one of them with supplementary oxygen and the other two without. Andrews even returned to Everest in the fall, taking advantage of the presence of skier Andrzej Bargiel's large team, which fixed ropes and broke trail.

Andrews was trying to beat the previous uphill mark of 20 hours and 24 minutes from Base Camp to summit, set in 1998 by Kazi Sherpa. However, Andrews again had to abort his fall ascent at 8,000m, shortly after Camp 4.

Andrews has not yet confirmed if he will return to Everest again in the spring. But as he says, the best way to achieve a goal is to keep plugging away at it as many times as needed.

"In marathon running, we say, ‘Keep showing up,’ meaning that if you just get fit and you get to the start line of every race, eventually you’re going to have a really good day, and your competitors are not going to have their best day, and you’re going to win," he told ExplorersWeb at the time.

'Here we go again'

Retreating from Everest in 2025 was tough on Egloff. He never considered a second attempt later in the season. After the huge effort, Egloff returned to face "a strange silence, emptiness, and many questions." Egloff described his state as what some call athlete's burnout.

"What's next? Was it worth it? What did I learn? How can I improve? What circumstances were out of my hands? Shall I do it again?" he wondered, while dealing with a lack of motivation and even depression. But after three months of rest, all the positive feelings returned.

"Reaching this point has taken me more than 10 to 15 years of hard training, countless hours in the mountains, failures, lessons, and small steps forward...Now, here we go again."

Training plan

Egloff has been training for months now. The first hurdle is that, since he moved to Switzerland, he lives at 400m above sea level, compared to the 2,500m he lived at in Ecuador.

For that reason, he will move his training abroad in January, although he has not said exactly where.

"I will also do two months of hypoxic training before moving to Nepal with Nico Miranda," he said.

The plan is to acclimatize somewhere in the Khumbu and only move to Everest Base Camp when he is ready for the FKT. As in 2025, Egloff will be outfitted by Furtenbach Adventures.

Alice Morrison has walked the entire length of Saudi Arabia over 112 days. Covering about 20km each day, she walked 2,200km in all.

Starting in January 2025, Morrison split her walk into two sections. The 930km first part took the 62-year-old Scottish woman from the Jordanian border and along the Pilgrimage Route to Medina. She then took a break before completing the final 1,270km to the Yemen border.

She split the journey into two parts so that she could complete it over two winters, avoiding both the extreme summer heat and Ramadan. Even with this planning, temperatures regularly hit 39˚C.

In her weekly blog, Morrison said, “I am not absolutely sure how hot hell is, but I think we are approaching it. That and water are our two big challenges at the moment.”

The heat forced her and her accompanying team to start walking as early as possible each day to minimize exposure to the midday heat.

Early start

“Alarm at 4:45; leave at 6:00, then walk until our much-anticipated tea break at 9:30. After that, we forge on to camp, have lunch, and then hide under a bush for shade until the sun sets,” she said of their daily routine.

Throughout, she was accompanied by a team that included Shaya Al Shaya, who walked with her, a cook and camelteer for each stage, two camels, and a support vehicle, ensuring a constant supply of water.

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As with her previous walks across Morocco and the Jordan Trail, walking across deep sand was a huge challenge. At one point, blisters were an issue, including for one of her camels.

Morrison has lived in Marrakech for years, is fluent in Arabic, having studied it at university and worked for BBC Arabic TV. She is a journalist by trade, so much of this journey was filmed and will be turned into a documentary. She has been planning the walk for three years.

Along the route, she walked and worked with several women, helping to document rarely seen archaeological sites, including Bronze and Stone Age tombs and 4,000-year-old rock carvings.

“I’ve walked with women leading conservation projects, managing camels, doing archaeological work,” she told Gulf News. “They’re changing things from within, and they’re proud of it.”

By the autumn of 1995, Kangchenjunga -- the world's third-highest peak -- had seen both remarkable achievements and serious tragedies. Its unpredictable weather and steep faces made it particularly treacherous. This season would be no different.

Ascents before 1995

The first successful ascent of 8,586m Kangchenjunga came in 1955, when a British team reached the summit. From then until the start of autumn 1995, 122 climbers had summited the mountain. Of those, 52 did so without supplemental oxygen.

But the mountain's dangers were evident. By February 1995, 33 people had died on its slopes. Notable losses included Polish climber Wanda Rutkiewicz, who disappeared in 1992 during a solo attempt. In the autumn of 1994, an avalanche killed Russian climbers Ekaterina Ivanova and Sergey Jvirbiva at 6,700m. Just two weeks later, on October 23, Yordanka Ivanova Dimitrova of Bulgaria perished in another avalanche at 8,300m.

Spring and summer, 1995

In the spring of 1995, an Italian-Czech expedition led by Simone Moro targeted the Southwest Face without bottled oxygen. They pushed hard but abandoned their attempt at 8,000m in deep snow that made progress nearly impossible. This effort was part of Moro's broader "Kangch Crossing Challenge," which involved Kangchenjunga and Yalung Kang that season.

By autumn, the climbing community was reeling from a major disaster elsewhere. In the summer of 1995, K2 claimed several lives in a series of storms and accidents. Climbers heading to Kangchenjunga that autumn carried the weight of those events.

Six teams

That autumn, six expeditions converged on Kangchenjunga. Most focused on the Southwest Face route, which led to the West Col and then the Northwest Ridge, a path known for its technical demands.

The Italian Kangchenjunga Expedition, led by Sergio Martini, planned to use bottled oxygen on their ascent via the Southwest Face route. Martini, an experienced climber with ten 8,000m peaks already completed, aimed to add Kangchenjunga to his list.

A U.S.-Spanish team, led by Magda King Nos Loppe, also targeted the Southwest Face. They used oxygen for sleeping but abandoned their climb at 8,100m, citing exhaustion.

The Swiss-French team, led by Erhard Loretan, followed the same route. Loretan, on the cusp of completing all 14 of the world's 8,000m peaks, was climbing with partner Jean Troillet and others.

A French party under Michel Pelle attempted the same route with oxygen but stopped at 8,200m due to a lack of fixed ropes.

Benoit Chamoux, Pierre Royer, and Riku Sherpa climbed on the Southwest Face without bottled oxygen. Chamoux, who had summited 12 of the 8,000'ers (plus a subsidiary peak on Shisha Pangma that he counted as his 13th), was filming a documentary with Royer.

Finally, a Japanese team led by Hirofumi Konishi tried the Southwest Face without oxygen but turned back at 8,400m due to fatigue and route difficulties.

These teams shared camps and routes, creating a collaborative yet competitive atmosphere at Base Camp.

Summit push begins

On October 3, activity ramped up. Chamoux's team moved from Base Camp directly to Camp 3, then established their highest camp on October 4. The next day would prove pivotal.

Eight climbers from three teams -- the Swiss, French (Chamoux's group), and Italian teams -- set out from camps at around 7,800m on the Great Shelf, a vast plateau on the Southwest Face. No one carried bottled oxygen for the ascent. The group included Loretan, Chamoux, Martini, Troillet, Royer, and three Sherpas hired by Chamoux to assist with filming.

Loretan and Troillet left their bivouac at 2 am, while Martini, Chamoux, Royer, and the Sherpas departed from nearby at the same time. They climbed together until about 9:30 am, reaching around 8,250m at the intersection of couloirs leading to the ridge.

A fatal slip

Tragedy struck suddenly, according to Miss Hawley’s report for the American Alpine Journal. One of Chamoux's Sherpas, Riku (a 33-year-old from Sankhuwasabha), lost his balance while sitting with his rucksack on. He fell to his death, tumbling down the slope. The other two Sherpas descended immediately, leaving Chamoux and Royer without support. Riku's body lay at 7,600m, passed by climbers daily, but it was too difficult to move.

The Swiss and Italian climbers felt the French party was moving too slowly, so Loretan, Troillet, and Martini pressed ahead. However, Martini soon doubted the route, wary of a rock pillar and strong winds. He waited half an hour for the Swiss to return but, with no sign of them, turned back at 8,200m below the West Col at 8,350m. He attempted a couloir alone but found the snow-on-rock conditions too dangerous in the bitter cold and descended.

Loretan and Troillet forged on, reaching the West Col at 11 am. They found an "easy way" along the rock-and-snow ridge connecting the main summit to Yalung Kang. Despite extreme cold and swirling snow from high winds, they summited at 2:35 pm. The wind eased at the top, allowing a brief stay before they started down at 3 pm. They reached their camp at 7,300m by 5:30 pm. Loretan stayed overnight with teammates, while Troillet continued to Base Camp, arriving at midnight.

With this ascent, according to the valid list of the time, Loretan became the third person -- after Reinhold Messner and Jerzy Kukuczka -- to summit all 14 8,000ers. At 36, he was also the youngest. Back in Kathmandu, he downplayed the feat: "It's something done." He preferred to eye future projects, like Makalu's unclimbed West Face.

The disappearance of Chamoux and Royer

As Loretan and Troillet descended the ridge around 4 pm, they met Chamoux and Royer still ascending, now alone after the Sherpas' departure. Royer, carrying his cameras, radioed at 4:30 pm that he was turning back due to exhaustion. An hour later, Chamoux radioed that he was also too tired to continue. He claimed to be 40m below the summit but couldn't find the way down the ridge. He had lost sight of Royer, who had given him the radio. Chamoux bivouacked on the ridge, just above the West Col.

At 8 am on October 6, Chamoux radioed Troillet for descent guidance. Climbers saw him reach the col, but Chamoux then vanished on the north side. Neither he nor Royer was seen again.

A search began immediately. On October 6, Michel Pelle and a client reached Camp 4 but saw nothing. The next day, two of Pelle's Sherpas fixed ropes to 8,200m. Chamoux's surviving Sherpas refused to search, upset that no aid was given to Riku Sherpa after his fall.

Aerial searches by helicopter and plane yielded nothing. Climbers on nearby Gimmigela used telescopes to scan Kangchenjunga's North Face and summit area, but spotted no trace of either man.

Martini's second attempt and discoveries

Martini, recovering from his first summit bid, descended to Base Camp. On October 12, he and teammate Abele Blanc headed up again, reaching Camp 2 at 7,200m. On October 13, they made Camp 3. On October 14, they summited via Loretan's route in six hours. Though planning an oxygen-free climb, they used another team's oxygen to ensure they could search for Chamoux and Royer.

Near the West Col, they found some clues: footprints in wind-hardened snow, a bivouac spot, and items including two ice axes (one long, one short), Royer's small backpack with two cameras, two harnesses draped on a rock, and a radio propped higher up. Martini brought the backpack to Base Camp, and his Aosta teammates later took it to Europe.

Yet they found no bodies. Loretan speculated that Chamoux and Royer fell down the North Face. Martini thought they might have died among the rocks near the col, hidden from view, perhaps freezing after resting without the strength to rise and continue. The area had no crevasses to swallow them.

Competition and risks

At Base Camp, teams discussed whether competition among top climbers (Loretan, Chamoux, and Martini) had added unnecessary risk. One French climber called it a "fatal challenge" for Chamoux, racing Loretan for the 14 peaks title.

"The Swiss were much faster. Loretan is the best," he said.

An American climber was direct: "The French were not well acclimatized. They tried to keep up with the Swiss, and they killed themselves."

Reports noted Chamoux's team had vomited at Camp 3 on September 17 and descended abruptly, not returning to high altitude until the summit push. Troillet remarked that the Chamonix climbers were highly competitive.

Chamoux's group had pushed from Base Camp to Camp 3 on October 3, then to their high camp on October 4 before the ill-fated attempt. The Swiss, recovering from minor ailments in early September, had acclimatized with a foray to 7,400m on October 15, sleeping at 7,300m before bad weather hit.

The season ended with mixed emotions. The Japanese and U.S.-Spanish teams abandoned high up. Pelle's French team reached 8,200m but no further. Loretan's historic completion and Martini's perseverance were notable, but three people died: Riku Sherpa, Benoit Chamoux, and Pierre Royer. The season demonstrated the fine line between ambition and survival in the Death Zone.

Last weekend, Silvan Schupbach of Switzerland did the third new line on a long-term alpine project he calls the Six Forgotten North Faces.

He wants to point out that there is more to alpine north faces than the classic routes up such peaks as the Matterhorn, the Eiger, and the Grandes Jorasses. There are difficult and lonely alternatives on slightly lower, less accessible, or lesser-known peaks.

In February 2025, Schupbach climbed a new route, called The Cuckoo's Nest, on Switzerland's Nesthorn (3,820m) with Peter Von Kanel and Carlos Molina. One month later, he did the first ascent of the north face of 3,237m Punta Pioda, also in the Swiss Alps, with Philippo Sala and Roger Schaeli. The resulting route was called Luce e Tenebre ("Light and Shadow").

For this third stage, he went to the rarely visited north face of 3,870m Aiguille de Triolet in the Mont Blanc massif. Here, he chose a variation route up the center of the headwall.

His partners were Philippo Sala of Switzerland and Tom Livingstone of the UK, who continued to climb in the Alps rather than attend the recent Piolets d'Or ceremony in Italy to receive an award for his 2024 route on Gasherbrum III.

The problem with this most recent goal, Schupbach admitted, was finding a forgotten face around the hyper-popular Mont Blanc massif. Triolet seemed like the perfect candidate, but he soon found out that the place was not as deserted as he expected.

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Direct route

The climbers completed the line in two days, December 13-14. After approaching the wall via the classic route, they tackled the face via the Jin-Go-Lo-Bar route, first opened in 1998. Then at one point, they continued on unclimbed terrain, following a direct line through the headwall. Here is Schupbach's description:

The chosen corner offered good, exposed climbing. We found a rather poor bivy spot in the middle of the crux pitches. After an uncomfortable night, we finished our climb to the east ridge.

Schupbach also noted that the climbers followed the standard summit ridge for a while, but seeing how far away the highest point was, they eventually stopped without reaching it.

The team has called their 750m variation route You didn't ask. They proposed a difficulty of M7+ for the line, which ranged up to 80º.

Competition arrives

Ironically, another team did the first repetition of the new variation that same day. As they approached the ridge, Schupbach and his party looked down to find other climbers following their footsteps.

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"This is the story of two climbing parties who decided to open the same face on the same weekend, except the second party was half a day late," aspiring guide Amaury Fouillade wrote on social media yesterday.

The second party included himself and partners Olivier Kolly and Philippe Bruley. They only discovered they had company when they saw three pairs of skis at the base of the face.

"Damn!" was Fouillade's first impression. But at least, he knew his plan was a good one, as the new pitches were "substantial, enjoyable, and well-protected."

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Different edges, same crux

Fouillade's team started by the Greloz-Roch route --  the first route climbed on that north face in 1931. For a time, it was considered the most difficult in the Alps. At a certain point, they continued up the central gully, "which was untouched by any prior information or traces," according to the Groupe Militaire de Haute Montagne (The High Mountain Military Group of Chamonix).

Fouillade, Bruley, and Kolly climbed the crux pitches, following exactly the line of the previous team. They then climbed one pitch of the Pellissier-Pessi line to reach a direct exit to the summit ridge. The team summited together.

Fouillade has confirmed the new section is 750 vertical meters and agrees on a grade of M7+. He has posted a topo of his climb, which he temporarily named Inedite, although the section on new terrain is actually a repetition.

Fouillade recommends the route to future climbers. "All the lines are awesome, it's got real scale, the birdbeaks are in place...and usually there's nobody there ," he wrote.

Shortly after posting their climb's report on Instagram, Philippo Sala replied to  Fouillade: "It was a first ascent for all [of us] together, in my opinion! So cool to see you all!"

Despite its unmemorable name, J2322-2650 is a strange system. A Jupiter-sized exoplanet orbits an energetic neutron star, which constantly bombards it with gamma rays. Now, a team of astronomers has published its observations of the planet. They discovered strong westerly winds and an atmosphere unlike anything else.

So is it really a planet at all?

Pulsars and their companions

When massive stars die, they jettison their outer layers in a supernova. No longer able to support itself through nuclear fusion, the core collapses in on itself. If it's big enough, it forms a black hole. If it's not, it leaves behind a neutron star.

In many ways, these zombie stars are more dramatic objects than black holes. Many emit violent bursts of gamma rays and X-rays, the sort of light that would tear apart human cells. Periodic radio emission is also common, flung out from near the surface of the neutron star as a result of off-kilter magnetic fields. (Exactly how close to the surface this emission begins, and through what mechanism, remains a mystery.)

Neutron stars that emit in the radio band are known as pulsars, or zombie stars, because they are remnants of massive dead stars. These radio pulses are so regular, so seemingly artificial, that their discoverer, Jocelyn Bell, jokingly referred to them as "little green men."

Astronomers observe the radio waves of pulsars to study all sorts of phenomena. They can detect companion stars orbiting the pulsar -- everything from rocky planets to other neutron stars -- using slight delays in the pulse arrival times at the telescope.

That's how the team behind a new study on J2322-2650 knew to point the James Webb Space Telescope at this source, when no traditional exoplanet survey would have noticed the faint Jupiter-like companion. (In all but a few exciting cases, pulsars do not emit visible light.)

Carbon winds on a lemon-shaped planet

Jupiter-like planets tend to have atmospheres composed mostly of hydrogen and helium, similar to the Sun. Heavier atoms like nitrogen, carbon, and oxygen allow molecules such as ammonia and methane to form. While no two gas giant exoplanets are the same, astronomers have never found anything like the companion of J2322-2650 before.

Instead of a hydrogen-based atmosphere, they found mostly helium and an absurd amount of carbon. Not hydrocarbon chains, which commonly occur in outer space, but pure molecular carbon. In solid form, pure carbon forms minerals like graphite and diamonds. There is no earthly analog for gaseous clouds of carbon -- even the darkest soot also includes lots of oxygen and hydrogen.

Team co-author Peter Gao said that the observations stunned him. “I remember after we got the data down, our collective reaction was ‘What the heck is this?’ It's extremely different from what we expected.”

The weird planet's nearness to a pulsar enables its gaseous, carbon-rich atmosphere. The two are so close together that the pulsar's gravity keeps the companion pinned with one side always facing it, a process known as tidal locking. (The Moon, for instance, is tidally locked to the Earth). Because the near side of the companion is slightly closer to the pulsar than the far side, the difference in gravitational attraction stretches it out like a football.

So that's the companion of this zombie star: an elongated, tidally locked object covered in carbon winds, whose nearside is pummeled by gamma rays all the time and whose far side never sees light.

What is it?

Black widow pulsars

Black widow is one of those wretched, jargon-y pulsar terms that baffle most other astronomers, let alone the general public. But unlike many offbeat pulsar terms (just what is a birdie, anyway, and what does it mean to zap one?), black widow is descriptive. A black widow pulsar is one that, like a female black widow spider, is "eating" the light, fluffy atmosphere of its companion. Many of these companions are brown dwarfs, failed stars more similar to Jupiter than to our Sun.

Most astronomers consider brown dwarfs to be planets. Like Jupiter, they have hydrogen atmospheres rich with common molecules like methane, and more exotic iron and silicate compounds. They are not dominated by helium and pure molecular carbon.

Even if we assume this system represents the end-stage of classical black widow formation, where the pulsar has already stripped most of the atmosphere off its companion, the carbon remains an anomaly. Carbon and oxygen form at the same stage of stellar evolution, so there should be a lot more oxygen floating around its atmosphere.

The authors of the study discuss more exotic scenarios, like a merger between one helium and one carbon-oxygen white dwarf. But these still can't explain the carbon concentration they observed. We may know what this companion looks like now, but what it used to be remains a mystery.

Above, an artist's conception of the system, as the lemon-shaped planet orbits the pulsar. Imagery: NASA/JWST/ESA/CSA/Ralf Crawford (STScI)

Reintroducing keystone predator species can have a near-miraculous restorative effect on ecosystems. This is what I would remind a Patagonian penguin who is feeling a bit down about his whole family being eaten by newly arrived pumas.

Trophic cascade

This new behavior is the latest change in an ongoing evolution of predator-prey dynamics on Argentina's Patagonian coast. Before European colonization, pumas (also known as cougars, catamounts, mountain lions, and panthers) ruled the windswept and rocky tip of South America. Their prey were the abundant guanaco, a llama relative, and the lesser rhea, a large flightless bird.

But introducing or reducing even a single species can cause broad changes across an entire ecosystem, a phenomenon referred to as a trophic cascade.

European colonization transformed the landscape. Sheep and cattle replaced the native herbivores, and predators were culled to protect the livestock. With the loss of the foxes and pumas, however, came a new inhabitant: the Magellanic penguin.

Like their namesake, Ferdinand Magellan, these handsome waterbirds were interested in the colonial potential of the South American mainland. Prior to the 18th century, their colonies bred mainly on offshore islands. After the mainland predators disappeared, they established a large breeding colony on the coast of Patagonia, in the Monte León sheep ranch.

Puma on penguin violence

In 2004, the Monte León ranch became Monte León National Park, after conservation organizations purchased it and donated the 25 oceanfront acres to the Argentine National Parks Administration. Wild prey species trickled back in, including the puma. Soon after, local authorities monitoring conditions in the new park began hearing about puma attacks on the penguin colonies.

Now, a study using camera traps has confirmed extensive predation. A team led by ecologist Mitchell Serota placed 22 cameras in the colony from January to April, the middle of the penguin's breeding season. Pumas visited nearly every night, more than 12 times as often as any other predator.

Pumas are incredibly adaptive animals, able to thrive in arid deserts, rocky mountains, open grasslands, and lush rainforests. We're still learning about their behavior, with a recent study finding that they're far more social than we previously believed. Penguin predation is a great example of their behavioral elasticity. Right now, it appears to be paying off, as the area around the penguin colony has the world's densest concentration of pumas.

Despite this new danger, the population of Magellanic penguins is actually growing. However, this puma hunting behavior only emerged recently. It's too soon to tell what its effect will be on the penguins, which only live in the area seasonally.

Four climbers went missing on New Zealand mountains this weekend. Authorities located one deceased pair and removed their bodies from Sabre Peak in Fiordland National Park on Sunday. But another two climbers on Aoraki-Mt. Cook are overdue, with weather conditions hindering searchers.

Worsening weather

Rescue teams entered the Fiordland National Park early on Saturday night, after two climbers failed to return. They located one body that night, and the other on Sunday. However, as weather conditions worsened, the location of their remains high on Sabre Peak became inaccessible.

The north buttress of Sabre Peak features 500m of exposed rock and ice and is popular with serious, experienced climbers. Though authorities were eventually able to extract the climbers' bodies, police described it as "a difficult and technical rescue."

An official cause of death has not been released, but it should come out with the coroner's report. Given the circumstances, a fall is likely.

The next day, another two climbers were also overdue, this time on Aoraki-Mt. Cook. Again, the weather has hindered search and rescue efforts. Much of New Zealand lies within the infamous "Roaring Forties," characterized by strong winds and heavy rainfall. The latest weather reports indicate that the wind and rain are expected to stop for a time on Wednesday, allowing search teams to enter the area.

New Zealand's deadly mountains

The New Zealand Mountain Safety Council released a statement in response to the two latest incidents, calling them "a sobering reminder of the seriousness of Aotearoa’s [New Zealand's] complex and challenging alpine environments."

They noted that good weather has led to more climbing on the high peaks of the South Island, but good weather doesn't prevent them from turning deadly.

The 2,162m Sabre Peak was first summited in 1954. Since then, many climbers have been injured and killed there. Two climbers perished in 2017, and another two men in 2020. Aoraki has an even more tragic history.

Only three weeks ago, guide Thomas Vialletet and his client, Kellam Conover, fell to their deaths on Aoraki. At 3,724m, Aoraki is the highest peak in New Zealand, and guides consider it a challenging climb, as changing weather and poor visibility frequently lead to accidents. During 2019-2020, for example, there were 24 search-and-rescue operations.

A New Zealand Geographic article found the Aoraki visitor's center record books listed 78 fatalities on the mountain since the death of George Napier in 1907. That article was from 2016. That list is now at least a dozen names longer.

When tragedies do occur, authorities often struggle to locate and recover bodies. David Moen, a 19-year-old climber, went missing on Aoraki in 1973, and his remains were only found in 2015. The bodies of three climbers who went missing there in 2024 have still not been located.

Simone Moro of Italy is recovering and well enough to explain the details of the heart attack that put a shocking end to his planned attempt to climb Manaslu in winter.

Two days ago, news broke about the Italian climber being evacuated to the hospital from Khare, a settlement at 5,000m right below Mera Peak, after suffering a heart attack.

"I felt a big pain in my chest and my left arm, and I realized it had something to do with my heart," he said in a video statement just published on his social media.

Delayed airlift

Shockingly, it was not possible to arrange a helicopter that day, so Moro had to deal with the cardiac condition and the pain all night long until he was finally airlifted to the hospital on the following morning, as he explained from his room at the HAMS hospital in Kathmandu.

Moro says that he has undergone surgery, but luckily didn't require a bypass, pacemaker, or stent. The surgeons just cleared an obstruction in one of his two coronary arteries. Hear his complete report here:

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Complete recovery expected

Moro noted he has no idea since when or why he had his vein obstructed, but he suggested his long stays at high altitude over the years and 50 Himalayan expeditions might have caused his blood to thicken.

At 58 years old, the Italian follows intensive training routines. His goal this season was to climb Manaslu in winter on a single, alpine-style push. He was acclimatizing on 6,476m Mera Peak with climbing partners Nima Rinji Sherpa of Nepal and Oswald Pereira of Poland.

Moro says he expects to recover completely and that the doctors have set no restrictions on what he can attempt in the future. In a day or two, he plans to return to Italy for further check-ups. Otherwise, he says he feels good and expects to resume his training as soon as possible.

Moro is also a helicopter pilot who works on high-altitude rescue missions in Nepal every spring.

Tired, but can't sleep? Working, but can't focus? Need something mindless yet peaceful happening in the background? Check out our December picks for the best live wildlife cams from Explore.org. From surprising visitors to a bald eagle nest to the fuzziest penguins in all of Argentina, we have you covered for the best creature activity around the globe.

4. Muskoxen in Alaska

Until you have seen a muskox, you cannot comprehend how much fur they have. If you haven't, don't even finish reading this. Go take a look at the muskox live cam from the University of Alaska at Fairbanks. Here, half a dozen muskox meander in and out of view, attracted by a feeding stand. Some stand snacking, while others curl up on the ground, heedless of the cold, and scratch their heads against the snow.

Muskoxen went extinct in Alaska around the start of the 20th century. The U.S. government reintroduced them from Canadian populations in 1935 to support Yup'ik subsistence hunting. Since then, their population in Alaska has remained stable, and muskox continue to thrive in Canada and Greenland.

3. Elephants at a watering hole in South Africa

This one deserves a special shout-out for its soundscape. Insects and songbirds unite at all hours of the day to form a peaceful, evocative background for work or sleep.

But it's worth watching, too. At one point, a herd of strange, orange-red creatures thronged onscreen. Their heads looked like deer, they were striped like zebras, and they wagged their tails incessantly like dogs. Several larger, long-horned dark creatures wandered among them, equally obscure to me.

After much googling, I determined the orange creatures to be bongos, a type of antelope. (If you need a pick-me-up, go search for photos of baby bongos.) The cow-things were harder, but I eventually placed them as nyalas. Although also a type of antelope, nyalas have a bovine grace. They look like what teenage cows would compare themselves to when they look in the mirror.

As it turns out, bongos are both shy and nocturnal. Seeing them for so long during the day and interacting with a different species is a rare treat. Check them out when you have a moment.

2. Bald eagle nest in Iowa

Earlier this week, I was on the phone with a friend when I mentioned my hatred of raptor cams. "I check them on and off, and the birds are never there," I proclaimed. "Raptor cams are a scam. I'll never put a raptor cam on my best-of-the-month list."

But I decided to give raptors a last chance before my monthly ranking, and lo and behold, there was a little bird sauntering around the nest on the Decorah, Iowa cam. It was dark brown and strangely sleek for a chick. I watched it, entranced by the way its neck moved.

Slowly, like a character in a horror movie, the truth dawned on me. "Holy cow," I texted the same friend. "I just checked this eagle cam, and there's an owl in the nest."

"Brave owl right there," she wrote back. "Though maybe he too knows the rule of the eagle cam: As long as the eagles are on camera, they're never there."

1. Baby penguins on Isla Tova

Hey. Hey, you. Please take a look at these fuzzy little penguins.

It's been a rough day for me. These penguins have gotten me through it. I keep thinking about having a cry, and instead I switch back to the penguin tab. They're fuzzy and small, and they keep wiggling everywhere. I'm obsessed.

Magellanic penguins are native to Patagonia, and unlike many of the creatures featured on Explore.org, they're not endangered at all. These hardy two-foot birds are particularly thriving on Isla Tova off the coast of Argentina, where the live cams set up around the island also support biological research.

Right now, there are three chicks in this nest under a wiry bush. As I watch, one of them emerges from the mass of indistinguishable fluff. He opens and closes his mouth a bit like a cat chirping, annoys his siblings by rearranging his position, and then falls asleep with his mouth open. The other chicks settle back in for a long, tiring night of penguining.

American climbing star Alex Honnold will solo a Taiwan skyscraper on January 23 as the whole world watches live.

Honnold became world-famous after the Oscar-winning documentary Free Solo, and Netflix advertises that this will be an "even bolder" stunt. It will be broadcast as it happens in a two-hour event they've called Skyscraper Live.

In it, Honnold will climb a building for the first time in his life. The chosen goal is Taipei 101, the 508m-tall, 101-floor structure that towers over Taiwan's capital.

Physical strain

"Skyscrapers are steeper and more repetitive than most natural rock faces, the movements tax his body in a different way, and he’s simply never climbed a building this big before," Netflix magazine Tudum reports. As Honnold explained, instead of varied climbing and cruxes along the way, climbing a building involves repeating the same moves one after the other, with an accumulated strain on certain muscles. It is also completely vertical -- when it is not overhanging.

So far, the climber and the media platform have overcome the first large obstacle: getting a permit to climb the building. Other urban climbers, such as French pioneer Alain Robert, often end their adventures handcuffed on the roof of the skyscrapers they just climbed.

Pagoda-like overhangs

Taipei 101 was the tallest building in the world from its inauguration in 2004 until it was dethroned by Dubai's Burj Khalifa in 2009. It is still the tallest building in Taiwan. Its design is inspired by traditional Chinese pagodas, including eight sections in the shape of bamboo boxes that will pose a challenge for Honnold, since their walls are slightly overhanging (see picture below).

Yet, the overall level of difficulty is easily attainable for Honnold, who said he is pretty confident he will enjoy the climb.

Asked about the pressure of being watched by millions, Honnold said: "My life is on the line — I don’t really care who’s watching. I care about doing what I’m doing and doing it well."

El Cap's Platinum Wall, for starters

For the time being, Honnold is sticking to the familiar granite rock of Yosemite. He has just climbed the formidable Platinum Wall on El Capitan, teaming up again with Tommy Caldwell, over six days.

As Honnold described it, "It’s a 39 pitch 5.13+ with 29 pitches of 5.12 or harder -- very sustained and very high quality. It only got better the higher we made it up the wall."

He considers this climb the highlight of his 2025 Yosemite season.

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Alex Honnold, 40, began climbing as a child and became a professional at 18. He is well known for hard routes, speed climbing records, and free solo climbs without ropes or safety devices. He made the first free solo ascent of Half Dome in 2008. In 2014, he did the first traverse of Patagonia's Fitz Roy ridgeline with Tommy Caldwell. And in 2017, of course, he free soloed the 5.13 Freerider route on El Capitan.

He has also completed the link-up of Mount Watkins, El Capitan, and Half Dome (the so-called Triple Crown of Yosemite) in less than 19 hours. He is married to Sanni McCandless and the father of two daughters.

Brown bear attacks on Japan's northern island of Hokkaido continue to grow more frequent every year. Depleting food sources and expanding human populations have led to hungry and emboldened bears coming into contact with people. This year alone, there have been 13 recorded fatalities from bear attacks and over 200 injuries.

One such incident occurred on August 14 on Mount Rausu. A young man, hiking with a friend, was attacked and killed by a well-known local bear. Officials located the man's remains the next day and recovered his body as well as a number of personal effects. The bear and her two cubs were killed for the safety of hikers and area residents.

Hokkaido police surrendered his remains and effects to his parents. His watch was among those items, and now his parents have shared with the media the chilling data it captured.

A chronological record of the attack

At around 11 am on August 14, GPS data shows that the watch and its owner suddenly veered off the hiking trail on Mount Rausu. The 26-year-old Tokyo resident was about 200 meters ahead of his hiking partner as they descended from the 1,661m summit. The sudden change in direction that his watch logged was the bear dragging the young man off the trail and down the slope, into a patch of bushes.

The watch circled around this spot in the bushes, seemingly tugged and whirled back and forth. Soon, between 100m and 130m from the trail, the watch stopped detecting a heartbeat. It did not register movement again until around 9 am the next morning. Location data shows the watch moved a few hundred meters further into the bush, as the bear dragged the man's body.

Later that day, hunters found the three bears, with the mother bear feasting on part of the victim's body. A hundred meters away, more of his remains were buried in a mound of earth. Brown bears will often bury uneaten food in this way.

The victim's father, Shinobu Sota, spoke to Japanese media, questioning why nothing was done before the attack. This particular bear was known to be active in the area. She had repeatedly displayed a lack of fear of humans and had even chased another hiker.

In the aftermath of the young man's death, the bear attacks have continued. As winter arrives, the bears should enter hibernation, but it seems that some remain active. Warmer weather and changing behavior may delay their hibernation, as new incidents have been confirmed even into December.

Remote Western Nepal is giving small teams the chance for new routes and unclimbed peaks. Most recently, on November 3, American alpinists Benjamin Lieber and Alex Hansen made the first ascent of 6,233m Changla Khang West on the Tibetan border.

"The expedition...matched the goals we had: go to a place we have not seen before, look around at all the mountains, and then try to climb one," Lieber told ExplorersWeb.

The route

The lower part of the route consisted of scrambly buttresses and steep snow gulleys that led to an incredible snow/ice ridge. This unbroken ridge took us nearly all the way to the summit, which was guarded by a few rock bands.

It felt like we got off easy with the rock bands when we turned to look inside a chimney to find perfect water ice. After a horrifying top-out at the chimney’s end, we made it to the summit a short time later.

On March 30, 1956, Kamchatka's Bezymianny volcano erupted. The massive explosion blew the lid off the mountain and generated massive clouds of ash. A peak, which once reached 3,113m in altitude, lost 700,000 square meters of material.

Until Bezymianny awoke in 1955, it was considered dormant. Since then, it's been continually active with smaller eruptions.

Then, a 2020 study found it had almost completely regrown.

How volcanoes are reborn

After a massive eruption, volcanoes may continue to be active. Over time, that activity can build up a new cone to replace the old, exploded one. However, Bezymianny is the first such volcano that scientists have been able to observe reforming in real time.

Photographs from the past seven decades show the evolution of Bezymianny's edifice. Slow by human standards, in geologic terms, it's all happened very quickly. Not long after the initial eruption, two lava domes formed about 400m apart. Over the next 20 years, they shifted and expanded, becoming 200m closer. Fifty years after the 1956 eruption, the two vents merged into one central cone.

Based on current projections, Bezymianny will completely regain its old size within the next decade. In the past few years, Bezmianny has seemed particularly eager to reclaim its old height. October 2023 was notable, with lava flows, avalanches, and ash plumes, which prompted authorities to issue aviation warnings.

Not the first time

Like the mythical phoenix, which repeatedly dies only to be reborn from its own fiery remains, Bezmianny has regenerated before. The 2020 study analyzed images of the volcano from before 1956 and observed older collapse scars. They noted a much older, now grown-over crater around the mountain near its summit.

The eruption that formed the pre-1956 Bezmianny occurred around 4,700 years ago.

As Bezymianny demonstrates, volcanic regrowth is not consistent. Domes grow in two different ways, from the inside and from the outside. Endogenous growth occurs when an inflow of magma beneath the surface causes it to swell outwards. Exogenous growth occurs when expelled lava hardens into rock, building up the volcano from outside.

The lava can also be expelled quickly and violently, resulting in extrusive growth, or in a gradual outflowing, called effusive eruption. Between 1956 and 1977, Bezymianny transitioned from endogenous to extrusive growth. After a 1977 spike in activity, it became dominated by extrusive and effusive activity.

Part of the Pacific Ring of Fire, Kamchatka has over 300 volcanoes, of which 29 of them, including Bezymianny, are active.

In late October, five Georgian mountaineers made the first ascent of an unnamed mountain on the remote eastern side of the Chaukhi massif in Georgia's Greater Caucasus Mountains.

The climbers — Giorgi Tepnadze, Bakar Gelashvili, Temur Kurdiani, Vakho Blagidze, and Tornike Tepnadze — established a technically engaging route graded 5B on the Caucasian scale (equivalent to M5+).

The expedition's main objective was to honor their late climbing partner, Archil Badriashvili, who died in August 2024 from a lightning strike while climbing. The team named the mountain Archil Peak as a tribute.

Three of the climbers, Tepnadze, Gelashvili, and Kurdiani, were Badriashvili's usual rope mates. The trio formed the core of many of Badriashvili's major expeditions, including multiple first ascents in the Himalaya and Hindu Kush that earned them international recognition. These include a 2022 Piolet d'Or for the northwest face of 7,300m Saraghrar Northwest.

Local community supports the naming

The climbers noted that they are cautious when naming peaks or routes. However, the local Khevsur community encouraged them to name the peak after their friend.

The Khevsurs are an ethnographic subgroup of Georgians living in the remote highland region of Khevsureti, one of Georgia's most isolated areas. Historically renowned as fierce warriors, they developed a culture that emphasized courage, independence, and a strict code of honor. Their villages feature distinctive defensive stone towers and fortified dwellings, many clinging to steep mountainsides.

Khevsur religious practices blend Georgian Orthodox Christianity with pre-Christian pagan elements. Over centuries of isolation, the Khevsurs have maintained close-knit communities, and their longstanding friendships with visiting climbers — dating back to the team's 2016 expeditions in the area — reflect the region's renowned hospitality.

This ascent builds on the team's earlier activity in the area. In 2016, Badriashvili and Tepnadze completed the first ascent of the east face of nearby 3,842m Asatiani Peak. And in 2024, Tepnadze, Gelashvili, and Kurdiani added another new route there.

The Chaukhi massif comprises peaks ranging from 3,400m to 3,858m. It is known as the Georgian Dolomites due to its dramatic rock spires.

More than two years after Belgian backpacker Celine Cremer disappeared in Tasmania, a renewed search has uncovered her mobile phone. The discovery offers new hope of answers for her family and friends.

Cremer, 31, was last seen on June 17, 2023, and reported missing nine days later. She was believed to have gone on a solo bushwalk near Philosopher Falls in northwestern Tasmania. Her car was later found at a nearby trailhead, but an extensive search at the time failed to locate her.

These early searches continued until July 10, 2023, before being suspended due to worsening weather conditions and experts' claims that she was unlikely to have survived in such conditions for so long.

Cadaver dogs were later deployed, but again, no trace of Cremer was found.

Phone discovered

Cremer’s family and friends remained determined to piece together what happened and to find her remains. This weekend, several of her friends traveled to Tasmania to take part in a fresh search led by private investigator Ken Gamble, whom they hired after official searches were scaled back.

Gamble has conducted nearly a dozen searches in the area. With permission from Cremer’s mother, he accessed her phone data to identify last-known locations and areas of bush that may have been overlooked.

Only hours into this latest search, volunteer Tony Hage, who was at the rear of the search line, spotted Cremer’s phone. Her friends quickly identified the purple Samsung device. It was found approximately 60 meters from her last known coordinates.

“They were delighted that something was positively found,” Hage said. “Everyone has high spirits now.”

The Tasmania Police have now reopened the case and have taken the phone for forensic examination.

“A police search controller is working closely with the private search party to ensure safety and that any discoveries are managed appropriately,” the police said in a statement. “We will remain in close contact with Celine’s family and will continue to assess any new information in a bid to provide them with answers and closure.”

The discovery has prompted criticism of the earlier police search, particularly given how close the phone was to previously searched areas.

“The average temperature was minus two degrees, with significant rainfall and snow to ground level,” Police Inspector Andrew Hanson told ABC News in response. “I’m certainly not going to stand here and say we couldn’t do things differently.”

Lost her way?

Police believe Cremer may have become lost while attempting to return to her car. Data from a tracking app on her phone suggests she may have left the main track in an effort to take a shortcut and get back to the parking lot more quickly in the dark.

“She reached a high point on a hill where the phone connected with satellites, allowing us to retrieve data,” Hanson explained. “That data stops at that point. Our theory is that she continued downhill into an area with poor coverage, either lost or dropped her phone, couldn’t locate it in the dark, and made the decision to continue in a straight line toward her car — unfortunately becoming lost.”

The search will continue over the coming days.

Simone Moro of Italy was airlifted to a hospital in Kathmandu today after suffering a heart attack while in the village of Khare in Nepal. Three days ago, he speed climbed up Mera Peak (6,476m).

Moro, 58, was in the Mera Peak area of the Khumbu Valley, acclimatizing for an alpine-style climb on winter Manaslu with Nima Rinji Sherpa of Nepal and Oswald Pereira of Poland. Moro and Nima Rinji arrived in Khare village on Sunday, December 7. Their acclimatization plan involved climbing Mera Peak at least twice and possibly sleeping on its summit.

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Sick upon return

On December 10, Moro and Nima Rinji set off from Mera's high camp (at around 5,800m) and reached the top in 2 hours and 20 minutes, The Tourism Times reports.

Apparently, Moro felt sick once back in Khare, and they called for an emergency evacuation.

"According to hospital officials, Moro underwent coronary artery bypass graft surgery and is currently receiving treatment in the intensive care unit at HAMS Hospital," The Tourism Times noted. "Doctors attending him said his condition is stable."

Doctors expect Moro to recover, and he will likely make an official announcement once discharged from the hospital. The professional climber also works in Nepal every spring as a rescue helicopter pilot.

Winter preparation

Mera Peak is a snowy, straightforward trekking peak, but it is also the highest trekking peak in Nepal. Moro had explained that the 6,476m summit is approximately the same altitude as Manaslu's Camp 3, making it perfect for acclimatization before his team begins work on Manaslu on December 21, at the start of astronomical winter.

Pereira joined the expedition at the last minute. He reached Khare as Moro and Nima Rinji summited Mera Peak, and climbed up on his own one day later. He made an impressively fast push from Khare to the summit, covering the 1,600 vertical meters in 6 hours and 15 minutes. He topped out just three days after leaving Poland.

Elusive Manaslu

Moro is the only climber who has made four first winter ascents on 8,000m peaks: Shisha Pangma (2005), Makalu (2009), Gasherbrum II (2011), and Nanga Parbat (2016). Moro has attempted to climb Manaslu in winter six times, but bad conditions have prevented him from attempting the mountain as he wanted, in an alpine-style push from base to summit.

Last year, Nima Rinji Sherpa, 19, became the youngest person to summit the 14 8,000’ers. This expedition was meant to be his first experience climbing one of the bigger peaks in alpine style. It is unclear whether Nima Rinji and Pereira will resume the expedition and climb winter Manaslu as originally planned.

When we’re not outdoors, we get our adventure fix by exploring social media and the web. Here are some of the best adventure links we’ve discovered this week.

All-Female Expedition Opens New Routes in Greenland: This past July, a women-only Swiss Alpine Club expedition ventured into Greenland’s remote Graah and Skjoldungen Fiords. After days of traveling, eight women arrived at the fiords. Over the next few weeks, they sought potential first ascents and successfully established several new climbing routes. 

False Summits Apply to More than Mountains: Jim Clash argues that a “false summit” represents more than a point that looks like the top but isn’t. It has become a metaphor for how adventure, achievements, and records are often exaggerated to make the individual feel good about themselves or to sell something.

Staff on luxurious cruises to Antarctica call the journeys “expeditions” to make the rich clientele feel special. Tourists taking brief suborbital rides are dubbed astronauts. People need to be honest about what they have done and realize that adventure tourism is not the same as being an adventurer.

Honnold Explains

Alex Honnold Answers Rock Climbing Questions: Famed free soloist Alex Honnold sits down to answer a range of questions about climbing. The queries range from whether he climbs with a phone to who his role models are to climbing Yosemite’s El Capitan.

How Did the C.I.A. Lose a Nuclear Device?: When China detonated an atomic bomb, the CIA launched a secret Cold War mission. In 1965, the U.S. and India enlisted a team of elite climbers to carry a nuclear-powered surveillance device up Nanda Devi in the Himalaya.

They wanted to monitor China and spy on their missile and nuclear tests. A blizzard forced the team to abandon the plutonium-fueled generator high on the mountain. When they returned the next season, the device had vanished.

A strange disappearance

Inside the Disappearance of Wilderness Guide Joe Pachak: When 75-year-old Utah guide and artist Joe Pachak vanished at the end of November, his disappearance shocked his close-knit desert community. He had left behind his keys, wallet, phone, and a full cup of coffee.

There was an extensive search involving drones, scent dogs, and drained ponds. A search team eventually recovered his remains from a pond on Pachak's property.

Musandam: Fiords, Headlands, and Seas of Change: Musandam, Oman, is one of the most striking sea-kayaking destinations in the Middle East. With fiord-like inlets, cliffs, islands, and an abundance of marine life, there is plenty for paddlers to explore. Kristoffer Vandbakk describes his five-day paddling trip around Khor as Sham and the Strait of Hormuz.

Gender differences in climbing

Do Men Climb More 'Bravely' Than Women?: Bravery in climbing is often linked with danger and risk. The more visible the difficulty of the climb, the braver the climber is thought to be. We often overlook quieter and more subjective experiences of fear and courage, such as confronting personal fears, admitting vulnerability, or seeking help.

Generally speaking, men are often more comfortable taking on a challenging climb than they are admitting their vulnerabilities, an area in which women seem to be more comfortable. Because of this, the idea of bravery in climbing is often linked to gender. This author argues that these broader, less celebrated forms of bravery are just as real and that expanding our definition of courage in climbing is essential. 

These Travel Influencers Don’t Want Freebies. They’re AI: Businesses are increasingly turning to AI-created influencers. For a range of price points, synthetic digital personalities are designed to promote destinations and experiences online.

Some see them as a cost-effective alternative to actual content creators, others as an additional way to promote their brand. Now, it is raising questions about authenticity and the future of influencers in the tourism industry.

Was Christopher Columbus really the first European to discover America? Since the discovery of a Viking settlement at L’Anse aux Meadows in eastern Canada in the 1960s, historians have begun to reevaluate the primacy of Columbus. Perhaps others arrived in America even earlier.

One candidate is Saint Brendan, a 6th-century Irish monk who exiled himself to the edge of the known world in order to follow a divine path. Irish oral tradition celebrates Brendan of Clonfert (also known as Brendan the Navigator) as a hero. It suggests he journeyed thousands of kilometers across the Atlantic to the New World, 500 years before even the Vikings. 

Who was Brendan of Clonfert?

Brendan of Clonfert was one of Ireland’s twelve apostles, a group of early saints responsible for spreading Christianity through the country. These scholars of theology, art, science, and geography built schools and churches and trained missionaries. 

Brendan loved sailing and went on several voyages to islands off the coasts of Ireland and Scotland. He also traveled to mainland France and Wales to establish monasteries. He managed 3,000 monks.

Allegedly, Brendan told St. Barinthus that he had heard rumors of lands across the Atlantic. He felt compelled to find these lands and establish monasteries.

Brendan's saga

Brendan recruited 14 monks and got to work on a vessel strong enough to carry them over the Atlantic. They built a traditional Irish vessel called a currach, which consisted of a light wooden frame covered in animal hides, as well as an extra protective layer of tar or pitch for waterproofing. With simple benches, a small mast, and a linen sail, it was able to carry 15 men and supplies.

The voyage was recorded in a saga-like fashion, titled Navigatio Sancti Brendani Abbatis (The Voyage of St. Brendan the Abbot). The account places the journey between 512 and 530 CE. After sailing up Britain, where they supposedly encountered a sea monster and almost recited Mass on a whale (which they mistook for an island), Brendan visited several mysterious lands. 

The islands

He mentions visiting the Paradise of Birds and the Island of Sheep, where "the sheep were so very large...larger even than oxen...because they were never milked, and felt not the stress of winter, having at all seasons abundant pasture."

He mentions another island where “great demons threw down lumps of fiery slag from an island with rivers of gold fire." After that terrifying encounter with what sounds like a volcano, he described another island with an abundance of grapes:

They saw an island covered all over with trees, closely set, and laden with such grapes…all the branches weighed down to the ground. Taking up one of them, and seeing its great size, and how full of juice it was, he said, in wonder: ‘Never have I seen or read of grapes so large.’

Further on, he mentions traversing a strange sea full of columns that looked like glass or crystal. Eventually, the party came to a heaven-like paradise they called the Promised Land of the Saints:

When they had disembarked, they saw a land, extensive and thickly set with trees, laden with fruits, as in autumn. All the time they were traversing that land, during their stay in it, no night was there, but a light always shone, like the light of the sun in the meridian.

They came to a large river flowing towards the middle of the land, which they could not cross.

Where did they go?

Some details of the story seem to support the theory that they arrived on the North American continent. Some believe that St. Brendan was taking a similar route to the Vikings, who sailed from the British Isles to Iceland (where they might have seen a volcano erupt), then Greenland, and onto North America.

The Island of Sheep and Paradise of Birds could refer to the Shetland and Faroe Islands, respectively. Sheep have dwelled in the Shetland Islands since the Iron Age, and over 300 bird species live on the Faroe Islands.

In 2021, scientists found ancient sheep DNA in the Faroe Islands dating to the 400s or 500s. This suggests humans (most likely Celtic shepherds) visited the island before the Vikings settled there in the 9th century. It is possible that sheep were wandering the islands by the time St. Brendan passed through.

The Island of Grapes will sound familiar if you have read the Norse sagas. Leif Eriksson named a section of North America Vinland because he found wild grapes and fertile land.

Next, St. Brendan traversed a sea of columns, which could be Greenland icebergs. Finally, they arrived in a fertile and abundant land where "the sun did not set," and a river prevented them from continuing. Historians think that St. Brendan may have encountered the St Lawrence River.

Tim Severin's recreation

In 1976, British explorer Tim Severin attempted to recreate St. Brendan's voyage. He constructed an 11-meter boat following the details mentioned in the Navigatio, using wood and animal hides in the construction.

Severin left Count Kerry and sailed for 13 months to Peckford Island, Newfoundland. He traced St. Brendan's possible route, going from Ireland to the Scottish Islands, then the Faroe Islands, Iceland, Greenland, and finally to Canada.

The journey was difficult. He almost capsized and faced extremely rough waters, but he showed that St. Brendan's voyage was at least possible.

Divers have uncovered an ancient pleasure barge near the now-submerged island of Antirhodos, in Egypt. 

The Greek philosopher Strabo wrote about these pleasure boats when he visited Antirhodos from 29 to 25 BCE:

"These vessels are luxuriously fitted out and are used by the royal court for excursions, and by crowds of revelers who set off from Alexandria across the canal to the public festivals," he wrote. "Day and night, the boats are full of people playing the flute and dancing uninhibitedly and with great abandon."

Several earthquakes and the rise in sea level over the centuries have since submerged Antirhodos. It is now roughly seven meters underwater, beneath a layer of sediment. There, divers from the European Institute of Underwater Archaeology spotted the remains of a well-preserved ship. 

At first, they believed the timbers came from two separate ships. They soon realized it was just one vessel, and completely different from anything anyone had found before. These types of boats have been depicted in ancient writings and mosaics, but have never actually been seen before. 

Built for sheltered waters

“It’s extremely exciting because it’s the first time ever that such a boat has been discovered in Egypt,” study lead Franck Goddio told The Guardian. 

At 28 meters long and 7 meters wide, with a rounded stern and flat bottom, researchers think it was built for sheltered waters, not the open ocean. Propelled by up to 20 rowers, its shape suggests the boat made leisurely voyages along canals and rivers. Its width would have allowed it to have a central pavilion or cabin for elite passengers. Greek inscriptions carved into the wood, likely by those who worked on or traveled aboard the barge, point to its Alexandrian origins. The craft is 2,000 years old.

Researchers have suggested one other use of the vessel, based on its location. The wreck is relatively close to the remains of the Temple of Isis. Goddio and his team think it might not have solely been a pleasure barge, but took part in religious festivals linked to the goddess. 

The wreck will remain on the seabed under UNESCO preservation guidelines. From it, researchers hope to discover more about life, luxury, and religious practices during early Roman Egypt. 

A documentary short set in Daphne, Alabama, Jubilee describes a rare natural event that only occurs on Alabama's Mobile Bay, on the Gulf of Mexico. We're introduced to some of the people who live along the bay. For them, a Jubilee is part of their vanishing culture.

Watching for the Jubilee

In the bay, a complex combination of weather and tides can cause the water's oxygen levels to drop suddenly. When this happens, sea life congregates on shore and in the shallows. Shrimp, crab, eels, and flounders practically throw themselves on waiting nets and spears.

For many long-time residents, predicting, preparing, and watching for a Jubilee is an important part of their lives. We soon meet Miss Stephanie, a mentor to many of the younger residents who've discovered a love of Jubilee-watching.

When she was young, she says, the Jubilees were more frequent and more intense. We see faded photographs of dozens of flounders hung up, and of masses of crabs emerging from the water.

Mildred, her elderly mother, recalls how the entire community was mobilized at the call of "Jubilee." It was the neighborhood children who patrolled the beach most diligently, eagerly watching for signs.

Some of them still do. We meet Christopher, a young local, and some of his friends. Their summers are spent fishing, swimming, and rising before dawn to check the beach. This is when the Jubilee happens: in summer, just before dawn. But as Christopher explains, they're hard to predict. The wind, the tide, the temperature, the moon phase, and salinity all have to come together just right.

Beautiful unused piers

Miss Stephanie no longer gets up to check for Jubilees, now that Christopher has taken over. She still takes on the cooking when they bring in their hauls and keeps the door open, waiting for the kids to holler for her. (We even learn that in the old regional debate between Zatarain's and Old Bay for spicing seafood, she prefers Zatarain's.)

Christopher says she helped teach him to appreciate just spending time by the bay. A talented musician, he enjoys spending time at the beach, playing the accordion and violin. He doesn't understand, he tells us, why there are all these beautiful piers going unused. The camera runs along a line of large, pristine beachfront houses and their large, pristine piers, all vacant and lifeless.

"They don't really enjoy the bay," Christopher explains. They also build seawalls, which leads to the beaches eroding. "I don't know why."

Private beaches and rock walls prevent Christopher and his friends from walking long stretches of the beach to check for Jubilees. The people in those big homes look down, he says, on those who actually use the bay; it's low class to swim. He swims anyway.

Many of these same people, Christopher tells us, don't even believe the Jubilees are real, or at least that they still happen. We don't see one ourselves, only black-and-white pictures of massive hauls. But Christopher and his friends still get up in the middle of the night to check the beaches.

The Piolets d'Or for the best climbing expeditions of 2024 were presented at a gala yesterday in San Martino di Castrozza, Italy.

Along with the awarded climbers were important figures in worldwide alpinism, including Victor Saunders and Lindsay Griffith of the UK, Ines Papaert of Germany, Steve House of the U.S., and Young-hoon Oh of South Korea.

That day, the climbers gave a joint press conference, which evolved into a debate about alpine style and whether that rather purist term made sense anymore in the age of technology.

Vedrines breaking ground

Benjamin Vedrines of France demonstrated how modern alpinism is seeking new challenges and experiences driven by innovation. Vedrines received a unique Special Mention in the Piolets d'Or. For the first time, it recognized a combination of activities -- some that Vedrines did in the European Alps, plus his speed ascent of K2.

Although not an alpine-style climb, his no-oxygen, Fastest Known Time ascent (10 hours 59 minutes from Advanced Base Camp at 5,350m to the 8,611 summit) was followed by a paraglider flight from the summit back to Base Camp.

"I love climbing, but I also love paragliding, I love ski touring, I love the big link-ups with my friend Leo Billon in the Alps...All these activities are different ways to perform in the mountains and to explore my own limits," Vedrines told ExplorersWeb.

It's not only about firsts

During the press conference yesterday, Ales Cesen of Slovenia, who was awarded for a new route in pure alpine style on Pakistan's Gasherbrum III, raised a point that Vedrines had also mentioned to ExplorersWeb: that modern alpinism transcends first ascents and new routes. As Cesen explained, there are fewer and fewer unclimbed mountains, and those remaining might not be so interesting to climb. At the same time, there were exciting possibilities in repetitions done in a modern, superior style -- for example, free climbing routes that previously required aid, speed ascents, ski descents, and so on.

"Paragliding descents have opened a new field of adventure," Vedrines noted. "The wings weigh just one kilo, and they can be brought up by a single climber going light, with no need for porters or rotations like 30 years ago."

That, he explained, has become the norm among the climbing community in the Chamonix Valley.

Technology helps creativity

Technologies like Google Earth, although not perfect, are increasingly helping climbers discover remote peaks to climb. Drones can locate otherwise invisible climbing lines.

"We will never run out of options," said Dean Steadman of the U.S. Yashkuk Sar team. Spencer Gray of the U.S., who received a Piolet for his part in the first ascent of Kakur Kangri in Western Nepal, added: "Technology helps creativity."

Asked by ExplorersWeb about the limits of what constitutes alpine style, Cesen replied: "No limits. Climbers should be free to climb as they please, as long as they are transparent and provide all the details on their climbs." He also declined to stick to hyper-purist criteria.

"I believe one can fix one or two pitches from a bivy site, and the climb will still be alpine style if long enough," he said. "[But] climbers must clearly state if and where they fixed ropes."

Vedrines is a sterling example of that transparency. In his Jannu report to ExplorersWeb, he admitted that he and Nicolas Jean had fixed a highly exposed pitch on the upper side of the north face.

Social media sources

Yet, Steadman noted the increasing importance of social media and how easily dishonest climbers can share partial or false facts about their achievements. Cesen commented about how the media sometimes used secondary sources of information, which turned out to be inaccurate.

Then this writer was asked to share her thoughts. We advocated for thorough work based on reliable information, direct sources whenever possible, and proper citations indicating the origin of the information. We also highlighted the challenges that sometimes arise in obtaining unbiased, detailed, and honest information from social media.

In transition

The general feeling was that the meaning of alpine-style and alpinism was changing.

"The Piolets d'Or are currently in a transition process," said Christian Trommsdoft, the driving force behind the awards and president of Chamonix's High Mountain Group. "The Special Mention to Vedrines is one step, and...embracing the new techniques and technology is also a sign."

The previous night, Trommsdorf took the floor to announce the Piolets d'Or group was considering including a new award for alpine rock climbing.

"For the moment, it is just the first step of an idea which will take at least two years to develop," he told ExplorersWeb.

BY ALEXANDER HARO

Hugo Wigglesworth likes to get high, and on December 6, he got higher than anyone else. Any other kitesurfer, at least. He broke the world record for the highest kitesurfing jump.

According to International Kite Surf magazine, just before 5 pm, Wigglesworth soared into the sky under his kite on a kitesurfing board with a foil at the aptly named Kite Beach in Cape Town, South Africa.

He went up. And up. And up some more, until he hit 40 meters in the air, shattering the previous record. You may wonder how, exactly, they were able to measure the height of his jump. It was captured by something called WOO, a sensor for measuring kiteboarding and wingfoiling jumps that attaches to the kitesurfer’s board.

Breaking the record wasn’t an accident. Wigglesworth set out to break it when he saw the forecast was calling for strong, gusty winds the following evening. He said he had a bit of a bone to pick after he wasn’t selected to compete in the 2025 Red Bull King of the Air event. He knew that he could show he is one of the best kite surfers in the world.

Wigglesworth waited until the wind was right, packed up, and headed down to the beach with his crew, his parents, and a whole pile of gear. With a new kite setup that used 17-meter lines instead of 23-meter ones, he took off for a warm-up attempt that the WOO sensor recorded as a little over 27 meters in the air.

Over the next hour, each jump was a little higher. Finally, he ramped up his speed, found a perfect kicker wave, and took flight for the record-breaking jump.

This story first appeared in The Inertia. 

Oswald Rodrigo Pereira of Poland has just completed a remarkably fast acclimatization ascent of 6,476m Mera Peak in Nepal’s Khumbu region, just days after arriving in the country.

This was part of Pereira’s preparations for an upcoming winter attempt on 8,163m Manaslu. He will join Italian Simone Moro and Nepalese Nima Rinji Sherpa, who summited Mera Peak a day earlier as part of their own preparation.

Pereira climbed solo from Khare (4,880m) to the summit in a single push of 1,600 vertical meters in 6 hours and 15 minutes. What stands out is the overall timeline: Only 61 hours elapsed between leaving Poland and standing on the summit of Mera Peak.

Pereira says that the pre-acclimatization work he did before the trip with a hypoxic tent is paying off.

The trio plans to reach Manaslu Base Camp on December 21.

Colin O’Brady is 28 days into his second first solo crossing of Antarctica. He continues to report whiteout or near-whiteout conditions with only brief interruptions. O'Brady says he's only making 8-10km a day.

He hasn't been reporting his overall distances, but based on his current position, he's covered around 250km out of his planned 2,865km route. He'll have to average more than 30km a day moving forward in order to finish the crossing.

Every day, his heavy sled becomes lighter, but his map indicates that he has been forced to return to arduous double-hauling for at least a few days due to the soft snow. Double-hauling forces him to do three kilometers for every kilometer of actual progress.

The whole "secret" of polar travel, and how someone can drag 100kg or 150kg, is that the cold and wind transform the snow into a hard, styrofoam-like surface over which the sled glides fairly well. You can't haul that weight through the soft snow that most of us are familiar with. Even a skiff of new snow makes hauling much harder. Very cold temperatures increase friction on the snow and make hauling harder, too.

Frozen in the doldrums

Matthieu Tordeur and Heidi Sevestre are approaching the South Pole of Inaccessibility. Winds were cooperating on Tordeur's 34th birthday on December 4, but then their luck had changed. Only 216km from their first goal, the pair was practically becalmed by light winds, just four to six knots.

They've spent two days stuck in place, but used the time to study weather charts, repair equipment, and prepare for the final push. Sevestre also used the time to prepare a software update to their radar system, which would allow it to penetrate from 40m to 100m below the surface. Currently, the team has sent back 1,300km of data from their progress so far.

Progress from Hercules Inlet

On December 9, Monet Izabeth crossed the 81st parallel, marking her first major milestone on her solo ski journey from Hercules Inlet to the South Pole. She reports that choppy sastrugi still impede progress, but the painful friction rash she developed early on is now under control.

Andrea Dorantes is 17 days into her own expedition and is making steady progress.

Sebastian Orskaug successfully reached Thiels Corner on December 7 and was able to resupply, picking up enough food for an additional five days. Thiels Corner was his halfway point. He now has just slightly over 450km to go. In the days leading up to the resupply, he'd struggled with poor sleep and bad surfaces. The "resupply party," as he calls it, seems to have brightened his spirits, however.

Tom Hunt is still neck and neck with the ghost of Vincent Colliard, who set the speed record on this route in 2024. However, the surface conditions he's encountered so far are much better than those that Colliard had.

If Hunt hopes to beat the record, he'll have to match Colliard's second-half speed increase. That means averaging just over 60km per day from now on -- a tall order. Hunt's updates continue to be chipper with no report of major issues.

Other expeditions

Hoddi Tryggvason successfully reached the South Pole on December 10, after a kiting journey of 2,300km. He is now headed for the Bay of Whales, toward the Kanses and Reedy Glaciers.

Ian Hughes has just crossed the 87th parallel on his Messner Route ski expedition. At 583km out of a total 911, he is now solidly over halfway. However, his progress has been hard-won.

Despite his attempts to avoid them by veering west, he's now hit an area thick with bumpy sastrugi. Poor sleep and bad surfaces have also slowed down his push. Hoping for a better surface, he's decided to head further west rather than stick closer to his planned route. So far, this seems to be working out, as he was making good progress at his last check-in.

The multigenerational Norwegian duo of Kathinka and Emma Gyllenhammar continues in high spirits. They try to set a consistent daily pace, skiing for an hour and then taking a 10-minute break. This sequence is repeated eight times, then they make camp. In the tent, they take turns on kitchen duty. Every day, they listen to a Christmas song and play cards.

Moment of excitement still interrupt their routine. A few days ago, they crossed paths with Tom Hunt around 83 degrees south. The sastrugi have returned, and when temperatures hit +5˚C on December 11, they were uncomfortably warm and contemplated the human impact on Antarctica.

“And at night you will look up at the stars. Where I live everything is so small that I cannot show you where my star is to be found. It is better like that. My star will just be one of the stars, for you. And so you will love to watch all the stars in the heavens…they will all be your friends.”
— Antoine de Saint-Exupéry, The Little Prince

In the rugged embrace of mountains, skies, and wild trails, 2025 claimed the lives of many mountaineers, adventurers, and outdoor personalities. The full list is much longer than we can include here, but all have our utmost respect.

This is for the ones who became stars in 2025.

Mountaineers

Virginio Epis

Virginio Epis, Italian ski mountaineer and high-altitude climber, was a master of blending Nordic precision with Himalayan audacity. He died on February 8, at age 93, of pneumonia at a hospital in Aosta.

Epis summited Everest in 1973 as part of the Italian Everest Expedition led by Guido Monzino, a 63-member military-backed team that marked Italy's first successful ascent of the world's highest peak. During the descent, amid a fierce blizzard and oxygen shortage, he shared his oxygen cylinder in an act of selflessness. The expedition earned him acclaim as "the skier who touched the roof of the world."

Epis pioneered numerous routes in the Mont Blanc massif and the Dolomites, including innovative ski descents that fused climbing with freeride artistry. His routes remain test pieces for elite alpinists.

François Labande

French mountaineer, ecologist, and writer François Labande — a philosopher of the peaks who wove environmental ethics into every ascent — died on March 20, aged 83, at home in La Salle-les-Alpes.

A Groupe de Haute-Montagne stalwart since 1981, he authored Traces Ecrites (blending autobiography and alpine lore) and edited Cimes, another piece of introspective mountaineering literature.

Labande's climbs in the Oisans, Ecrins, and Mont Blanc massif promoted sustainable practices. He helped shape conservation practices as Mountain Wilderness France founder and president (1995–2002).

Labande climbed alpine classics like the south face of La Meije, the south pillar of the Barre des Ecrins, and the northeast face of Piz Badile, while pioneering dozens of routes in the Ecrins. His topos Guide du Haut-Dauphiné ("the Labande") and Guide du Mont Blanc became alpinists' bibles.

Generl Buhl

Generl Buhl, Austrian mountaineering matriarch and wife of legend Hermann Buhl, died on March 8, at age 99. Generl embodied resilience, raising three daughters while preserving Buhl's legacy through memoirs and the Hermann Buhl Museum in Ramsau.

An accomplished alpinist herself, Buhl notched women's first ascents on the south wall of the Kleine Mühlsturzhorn, the Kleine Trichter on the Hohe Goll, and the south edge of the Third Watzmannkind in the Berchtesgaden Alps. Her story of supporting expeditions amid post-war hardship (organizing tours and driving Hermann across Europe after his frostbitten toe amputation) highlighted women's unseen roles in early mountaineering.

Yuri Viktorovich Smirnov

Yuri Viktorovich Smirnov, a prominent Leningrad mountaineer and Master of Sports of the former USSR, passed away on March 9, at age 79. An electrical engineering graduate, he made ascents from 1964–1989, earned the "Rescue Team" badge in 1968, and took part in over 30 rescue operations. He was a major figure in Russian rock climbing, becoming a highest-category coach (trained five Masters of Sports), the first international-category judge in the USSR (1989), and preparing routes and judging competitions for over 20 years.

Smirnov held numerous leadership roles (chairman of judges’ boards, vice-president of the Russian Climbing Federation, etc.) and designed and built more than 20 climbing walls across Russia. He founded the Nevskie Vertikali youth competitions and served as chief judge of the Rock Climbing for All Festival.

Rima Sherpa and Ngima Tashi Sherpa

On April 7, a large avalanche swept the section between Camp 2 and Camp 3 on Annapurna I, while a rope-fixing team was working. Rima Rinje Sherpa and Ngima Tashi Sherpa were carrying oxygen cylinders up the route when the slide caught them and swept them into a crevasse. Climbers in Camp 3 saw the accident but could not help. A search team led by Chhang Dawa Sherpa located the bodies two days later.

Yuri Contreras Cedi

Mexican orthopedic surgeon and Himalayan trailblazer, Yuri Contreras Cedi, died of a heart attack on May 4 at 62, while taking part in a cycling event in Cancun.

Cedi summited Everest four times (1996 via the south route from Nepal, 1997 via the north route from Tibet, plus twice more) and summited several other 8,000m peaks, including Lhotse, Cho Oyu, Manaslu, Shisha Pangma, Gasherbrum II, Broad Peak, K2, and Makalu. He was the first person from his country to climb Everest by two distinct routes. He miraculously survived sliding hundreds of meters down Makalu in 2022.

A Leon resident since the 1990s, he mentored underrepresented youth at clinics and authored guides on high-altitude physiology. An avid cyclist, Cedi's final social media post -- Sobre dos ruedas, el mundo deja de ser rutina y se vuelve aventura ("On two wheels, the world ceases to be routine and becomes an adventure") -- captured his spirit.

Gleb Sokolov

Russian Gleb Sokolov is one of just three people to summit all three peaks of the Lhotse massif. He died on May 9, at age 71, in Novosibirsk, Russia. Sokolov's climbing CV is impressive, with a 1996 Makalu ascent, Lhotse achievements (Lhotse Main in 1997 and 2000, Lhotse Shar in 1998, and Lhotse Middle in 2001), an Everest North Face climb in 2004, and the Snow Leopard title thanks to over 35 ascents of 7,000m peaks.

Sokolov's photography captured the sublime terror of the 8,000'ers, and his complex, intellectual character proved that the mountains demand not just strength, but soul too.

Andrzej Matuszyk

Andrzej Matuszyk, Polish alpinist, professor, and trainer, died on May 8, at 89, in Krakow. As an emeritus professor and long-time head of the Alpine Department at the Academy of Physical Education in Poland, Matuszyk shaped Polish mountaineering through texts on extreme activity, avalanche science, and ethics. His winter ascents in the High Tatras during the 1970s and his 1973 Spitsbergen expedition (first Polish passages in the Hornsundtind region) positioned Poland as a global leader in alpinism. He also participated in the 1975 Tirich Mir expedition.

Lucas Buzzeiro

Lucas Buzzeiro, Argentine AAGM mountain guide and ski instructor, died on May 10 at 49. He suffered a 300m+ fall in the Couloir des Cosmiques in the Mont Blanc massif while descending on skis.

Buzzeiro's local roots fueled his guiding career in Patagonia, where he worked independently and contributed to community initiatives. An AAGM board member and delegate for Bariloche guides, he was co-concessionaire of the Refugio Laguna Ilon with Andi Lamuniere, creating a popular trekking destination. He had a passion for freeride skiing and was a youth mentor through the Club Andino Bariloche's Escuela Juvenil de Montana.

Nick Phaliani

Nick Phaliani, a Georgian IFMGA-certified guide from Mestia, died on May 22 at 29. He died in a fatal fall from the south face of Mount Ushba during a four-person expedition.

Phaliani founded a Mestia-based tour company offering trips to demanding peaks like Ushba, the so-called Matterhorn of the Caucasus. He was featured in the 2022 film Kastanistan with Fabian Lentsch, and his freeride lines in untouched zones grew Georgia's snow sports scene.

Vaclav Ruzhevsky

Vaclav Ruzhevsky, a native Czech who became a Soviet alpinist and revered instructor, died on June 1 at 90.

Ruzhevsky's Caucasus ascents in the 1960s and 1970s, including winter firsts and routes with legends like Mikhail Khergiani, embodied the rigorous Soviet-era style. As a long-time instructor and chief of rescue/training at Ullu-Tau, he trained generations --including nine Masters of Sports, three of whom became Masters of International Class -- and championed ethical, skillful alpinism. A quiet pillar of the community, his endurance, partnerships, and dedication inspired Eastern climbers to embrace the mountains.

Cristian Brenna

Cristian Brenna, Italian rock savant, national team coach, and Guardia di Finanza rescuer, died on June 3 at age 54. He died in a 100m+ fall on Monte Biaena while out with a companion. A 1990s competition phenom with 8c+ redpoints and onsight ascents up to 8b+, Brenna's coached Olympic hopefuls and youth champions.

Brenna was active in bolting routes in the Arco area and engaged in ethics debates that enriched sport climbing. He participated in hundreds of rescues as a Guardia di Finanza alpine rescuer. A pioneer of demanding lines in Patagonia -- like the first ascent of Cerro Piergiorgio's northwest face with Herve Barmasse -- Brenna's charisma and self-deprecating humor will not be forgotten.

Sayuri Matsuyama Hoyos

Liliana Sayuri Matsuyama Hoyos, a Colombian-Japanese anthropologist, documentary filmmaker, and mountaineer, passed away in mid-2025. Hoyos pioneered women's expeditions in South America during the late 1990s and early 2000s and was known for her work with Parques Nacionales Naturales de Colombia.

Rita Gombu Marwah

Rita Gombu Marwah, daughter of the legendary Nawang Gombu (the first man to summit Everest twice) and grandniece of Tenzing Norgay, died on June 12, aged 67, after battling cancer in Delhi.

In 1984, Marwah became the first Indian woman to enter the Death Zone on Everest -- reaching just 200m short of the summit -- and helped pave the way for Bachendri Pal's historic ascent in the same expedition. An Arjuna awardee and first woman vice-president of the Indian Mountaineering Foundation, she empowered Himalayan women through youth programs and eco-initiatives. Deputy leader of the 1993 Indo-Nepalese women's Everest expedition, she summited numerous peaks.

Krystyna Palmowska

The legendary Polish alpinist Krystyna Palmowska died on June 15, at age 76, in a climbing fall in Slovakia’s High Tatras. Her remarkable climbs included:
- the first all-female winter ascent of the Matterhorn North Face (1978)
- a new route on Rakaposhi (7,788m, 1979)
- participation in the 1982 K2 Women’s Expedition
- the first woman to summit Broad Peak (8,047m, 1983)
- the first all-female ascent of Nanga Parbat (8,126m, 1985)
- reaching 8,200m on K2’s Magic Line with Anna Czerwinska (1986).

Captain M. S. Kohli

Indian mountaineer and naval officer Captain Manmohan Singh Kohli, 93, died on June 23. Best known for leading India’s groundbreaking 1965 Everest expedition -- which placed a then-record nine climbers on the summit -- Kohli was a driving force behind Indian Himalayan mountaineering from the 1950s. His remarkable achievements included:
- the first ascent of Saser Kangri (7,672m, Karakoram, 1956)
- second ascent of Nanda Kot (6,861m, Kumaon Himalaya, 1959)
- leading the first ascent of Annapurna III, the ascent of Nanda Devi, and the expedition to Nepal Peak between 1961 and 1964
- summits of Kabru Dome and Rathong in the eastern Himalaya
- participant in over 20 adventures in the Greater Ranges
- leadership of a covert 1965 Indian-American mission to install a monitoring device in the Himalaya
- guiding India’s first civilian Antarctic expedition (1982–1983)

A recipient of the Padma Bhushan, the Arjuna Award, and the Ati Vishisht Seva Medal, Kohli served as president of the Indian Mountaineering Foundation and co-founded the Himalayan Environment Trust with Sir Edmund Hillary. He authored several books and remained a beloved figure in global mountaineering circles.

Pal Bodis

Pal Bodis, a respected Hungarian mountaineering instructor and board member of the Magyar Hegymaszo Oktatoi Kollegium (Hungarian College of Mountaineering Instructors), died on June 29. He passed away following a climbing accident in the Austrian Alps near the Niederer Dachstein. Bodis was leading an alpine climbing course when he fell approximately 80m.

Bodis's death represents an immense loss to the Hungarian mountaineering community.

Klara Kolouchova

Czech mountaineer Klara Kolouchova, 46, died on July 3 after falling on the lower slopes of Nanga Parbat during a descent. During a summit push, she felt too tired to continue and turned back from near Camp 3, opting to descend -- partly at night -- with her Sherpa. She slipped and fell on a rocky section, reportedly above Camp 2 or between Camps 1 and 2.

Kolouchova was the first Czech woman to summit the world’s three highest peaks. She had also climbed Cho Oyu, Annapurna in 2024, and attempted Dhaulagiri in 2025. A mother of two, she was climbing with a team that included her husband (who had remained at Base Camp).

Yuri Mikhailovich Lishaev

Crimean mountaineer Yuri Mikhailovich Lishaev died on July 8 at 70. Born in Simferopol in 1955, he was a prominent Soviet and Ukrainian climber, rock climber, speleologist, and kayaker. A multi-time champion and prize-winner in USSR and Ukrainian rock climbing competitions, Lishaev earned the title Master of Sports of the USSR in 1978. He pioneered numerous routes in Crimea and the Caucasus, made bold solo ascents, and transitioned early to free climbing -- a move that sparked conflict with federation officials. In 1980, he dramatically destroyed his Master of Sports documents in protest.

Despite severe injuries that left him with a disability and doctors predicting lifelong wheelchair use, Lishaev returned to the mountains on crutches and continued making ascents, including first post-injury solos. His resilience and innovative style made him an icon of Soviet-era mountaineering.

Krzysztof Paul

Krzysztof Paul, a Polish mountaineer, sailor, and polar adventurer from Gdansk, died in his home city on July 2, aged 91. A long-time leader of the mountaineering club Wysokogorski Trojmiasto (KW Trojmiasto/Gdansk), he funded many Polish expeditions through high-altitude industrial projects. Active in the Tatras, Alps, and Caucasus, he pioneered ski mountaineering and Arctic expeditions, including demanding winter ski traverses (in Norway, Estonia, Lapland, and the White Sea) and multiple Spitsbergen crossings.

Pascal Strappazzon

Pascal Strappazzon, a French high mountain guide from Haute-Savoie, died suddenly on July 14, at age 63. Strappazzon suffered a cardiac arrest during an ascent of Pyramide Vincent in the Monte Rosa massif. An accomplished Groupe Montagne Sapeurs-Pompiers (GMSP) instructor, he trained several generations of mountain rescuers and contributed significantly to innovations in helicopter operations and cross-border rescues in the Mont Blanc area. Passionate about the Alps, he embodied a commitment to safer mountains.

Iftikhar Sadpara

Iftikhar Sadpara, a Pakistani high-altitude porter and climber from Sadpara village near Skardu in Gilgit-Baltistan, died on July 18. An avalanche caught him near Camp 1 on K2 while he was descending toward Base Camp with a four-member team.

An experienced mountaineer who had summited K2 at least twice, as well as Broad Peak and Gasherbrum II, Sadpara worked on numerous expeditions, fixing ropes on routes like the Abruzzi Spur and supporting international teams in the Karakoram.

Bogusia Skierska

Polish climber Bogusia Skierska, long-time member of Klub Wysokogorski Warszawa, and the warm heart of the Warsaw climbing community, died on July 23 at 72. She died in a tragic fall at the Arena Wspinaczkowa Makak climbing gym in Warsaw. A fixture in the club for over 50 years and the wife of former president Zbigniew Skierski, Bogusia welcomed generations of climbers into her home with feasts, deep conversations about ethics, and support that built a family atmosphere in the climbing community. Her environmental campaigns helped protect Warsaw-area crags.

Pedro Gomez

Pedro Gomez, a Spanish climber and skier, died in July at 98. Over a 70-year career, Gomez pioneered routes in the Pyrenees and ski lines in the Sierra Nevada. He produced Spain's first high-quality down sleeping bags, the famous Caucasiano model that equipped the 1968 Caucasus expedition. An innovator in technical gear, his handmade down jackets equipped many Spanish alpinists.

Kanchha Sherpa

Nepali mountaineer Kanchha Sherpa died on October 16, at age 92, at home in Kathmandu. Kanchha was the final survivor of the 1953 British Everest team, when he carried loads to the South Col for Hillary and Tenzing's historic summit. A Namche native, he guided for over 20 years, reaching 8,000m+ peaks like Cho Oyu.

Dale Bard

American climber and Yosemite pioneer Dale Bard died on October 1, at age 71, of cancer. Bard's 1970s first ascents, such as El Cap's Sea of Dreams and Half Dome's Bushid, defined Yosemite's aid era, earning him Stonemaster status. Bard's dirtbag ethos involved living on $15 for an entire climbing season in a bakery van.

Henry Todd

Scottish mountaineer and Himalayan expedition organizer Henry Todd died on November 2. He was 80 and died from a stroke following heart surgery in Kathmandu's HAMS Hospital.

Through Himalayan Guides, Todd organized more than 60 major expeditions and pioneered oxygen bottle refilling, making high-altitude climbing more affordable and reducing litter on peaks like Everest. A former rugby player who supported Bear Grylls's successful 1998 Everest ascent, Todd empowered Sherpa teams, widely regarded as among the best of their era.

Andrzej Michnowski

Polish mountaineer and beloved Tatra elder, Andrzej "Dziadek" Michnowski, died in early November, at age 76. His first ascents, like 15.10 do Yumy in Kazalnica's Kocioł, helped define Polish Tatra climbing. For over 50 years, he mentored young Krakow climbers through demanding winter routes and traverses.

Karim Shah Nizari

Pakistani adventure guide and social activist Karim Shah Nizari died on September 23, at age 39, from a heart attack. Nizari's QAU rock team kick-started Islamabad's climbing scene, pioneering Shadara walls and Margalla routes. An HEC national games representative and Gilgit-Baltistan advocate, he contributed to the 2019 search for climbers Daniele Nardi and Tom Ballard on Nanga Parbat. He promoted climate action via his website, Karakoram Essays.

Balin Miller

American climber and soloist Balin Miller died on October 1, at age 23, after rappelling off the end of his rope on El Cap's Sea of Dreams. Miller's June 2025 solo of the Slovak Direct on Denali, the first on record, marked him as a rising star. He started climbing at age three with his dad. Later, he shared his Patagonia and Canadian Rockies solos online with a growing audience.

Thomas Vialletet and Kellam Conover

French-New Zealand guide Thomas Vialletet and his client, American lawyer Kellam Conover, died on November 24 in a fall from Aoraki/Mount Cook's west ridge during a summit push.

Vialletet spent 15+ years guiding with Summit Explorers, a company he co-owned with his wife Danielle while raising two young children.

Conover was a Stanford Law graduate at King & Spalding who balanced high-stakes briefs with climbing big walls.

Alexander Rastorguev

Russian alpinist Alexander Rastorguev died on August 27, at age 68, in a rockfall on Dzhangi-Tau in Kabardino-Balkaria, Russia. A former president of the Krasnodar Mountaineering Federation, he opened dozens of routes across the Caucasus, including Elbrus variants and a notable 1989 first on Koshtan-Tau. Involved with Bezengi alpine camps as a senior instructor, he made 200+ ascents.

Natalia Nagovitsyna

Russian mountaineer Natalia Nagovitsyna died in late August, at age 47, from exposure after a leg fracture on Pobeda Peak. Nagovitsyna's quest for all five Snow Leopard peaks culminated on Pobeda, her final summit, pushing on despite her husband's death from a stroke while they climbed Khan Tengri in 2021.

Luca Sinigaglia

Italian mountaineer and Tien Shan regular, Luca Sinigaglia, died on August 15 at age 49. He died from exposure and cerebral edema on Pobeda Peak while aiding Natalia Nagovitsyna. Sinigaglia and a German climbing partner reached Nagovitsyna post-leg break, delivering supplies at around 7,100m before Sinigaglia succumbed on the way down.

Nikolay Totmyanin

Legendary Russian mountaineer, "Iron Uncle Kolya," Nikolay Totmyanin, died on August 11 at age 66. He died in Bishkek after an illness descending Pobeda Peak. Totmyanin's multiple Snow Leopard completions (five to seven full sets) and his 2004 Jannu North Face climb (which earned him a Piolet d’Or) highlighted his prowess.

The captain of Russia's national climbing team, his 200+ ascents -- from Lhotse's South Face to Alaska's Ruth Gorge -- spanned 50 years, including two no-oxygen Everest summits.

Christophe Jackquemoud

French mountain guide Christophe Jacquemoud died on September 12, at age 52, in a rappelling fall on the Pilier Cordier in the Grands Charmoz (Mont Blanc massif). Jacquemoud's 20+ years with the Compagnie des Guides de Chamonix and ENSA (France's national school for training mountain guides) included vital route re-equips and safety missions.

Benjamin Guigonnet and Quentin Lombard

Piolet d'Or alpinist Benjamin Guigonnet and Savoie guide Quentin Lombard died on September 18, at ages 37 and 34, in a car crash on the Route des Crêtes in the Gorges du Verdon. Guigonnet won a 2018 Piolet d’Or for the South Face of Nuptse Nup II with Millerioux and Degoulet. He also enjoyed hard alpine routes and rock climbing to 9a.

Lombard achieved guide certification in 2017 and was a national ski instructor from 2014.

Franco Gaspari

Italian mountain guide Franco Gaspari died on September 17 at age 64. He fell near the summit of Cima Grande di Lavaredo. Gaspari opened Dolomites routes like Gusela del Nuvolau's east pillar (1981) and Sass de Stria west wall (1984). Working for Soccorso Alpino (a voluntary Italian rescue organization) since 1985, his thousands of rescues saved many lives. In 2024, he authored Di Roccia e di Cuore on 70 years of Soccorso history.

Maurizio Zappa

Italian alpinist and mountain rescuer Maurizio Zappa died on August 17, at age 71, of natural causes at home in Bormio. Zappa's 50-year Italian National Mountain and Cave Rescue Corps (CNSAS) career included thousands of rescues as a technician and canyoning instructor, innovating anticaduta (anti-fall) techniques. A guide since 1979, he co-opened Roda di Vael's Via Casarotto with Casarotto and Majori.

Martin Buhler

Liechtenstein alpinist and paraglider pilot Martin Buhler died on August 17, at around age 50, in a paragliding accident in Valais. A valued UP Paragliders team pilot, his flights enabled bold expeditions blending aerial access with alpine objectives.

Laura Dahlmeier

German biathlete and mountaineer Laura Dahlmeier died on July 28. Aged just 31, she died in a rockfall on Laila Peak in Pakistan. Dahlmeier's 2018 PyeongChang double gold (sprint/pursuit) was the first woman's biathlon Olympic sweep. She won seven world biathlon titles. She had been a guide in Garmisch-Partenkirchen, Germany, since 2023 (with mountain rescue involvement).

Nicolas Gregorio Benedetti

Argentine mountain guide and IFMGA/UIAGM-certified Patagonia expert, Nicolas Gregorio Benedetti, died on June 25, at age 53, in a paragliding accident on Mont Blanc. Benedetti's 30-year career included multiple ascents of Cerro Torre and Fitz Roy (including early repeats of routes like the Tehuelche and Afanasieff), plus pioneering work on Patagonian ice lines and Hielo Continental traverses.

Roberto Sorgato

Roberto Sorgato, a highly respected figure in international alpinism, passed away on December 6 at 88. Born in Belluno in 1937, he rose to prominence in the 1960s and 1970s with daring climbs and winter first ascents on iconic Dolomites peaks such as the Civetta and Cima Su Alto. He often climbed alongside legends like Ignazio Piussi and Toni Hiebeler. In 1961, he survived a dramatic 60m fall on the Cima Ovest di Lavaredo. His close call inspired the French documentary Abimes.

Sorgato formed a strong partnership with Pierre Mazeaud, opening demanding new routes on Mont Blanc’s Brenva face and elsewhere. Sorgato also contributed to mountain culture as president of the Association of Friends of the Fondazione Giovanni Angelini in Belluno.

Skiers and snowboarders

Margot Simond

Margot Simond, a promising French junior alpine skier from Les Saisies, died on April 24 at age 18. She suffered a high-speed crash during training at the Red Bull Alpine Park on Val d’Isère's Envers de Bellevarde.

Simond's recent French U18 slalom title and strong performances on the International Ski Federation circuit -- including at the 2025 Junior World Championships -- marked her as a bright prospect for the World Cup. Former Olympic champion Mikaela Shiffrin hailed Simond as a potential "spark" for the next generation of skiers before her career was cut tragically short.

Eliot Danzer

Swiss freeride snowboarding prodigy Eliot Dänzer died on May 17, at age 23, in an avalanche on the Eiger's West Face. Dänzer had finished third in the 2024–25 FWT Challenger series (snowboard men), highlighted by a win at Nendaz Freeride.

Wendy Wagner

American cross-country skier Wendy Wagner represented the United States at the 2002 Salt Lake City and 2006 Torino Olympics, as well as at four World Championships. Wagner died on November 6, at age 52, in Park City, Utah, after a battle with ovarian cancer.

After retiring from competition, Wagner earned a master’s degree in atmospheric science and served as director of the Chugach National Forest Avalanche Information Center (CNFAIC) from 2014 to 2025, significantly expanding its forecasting coverage for areas including Turnagain Pass, Summit Lake, and the Chugach Front Range.

Wingsuit and BASE jumpers

Carlos Suarez

Carlos Suarez was a Spanish alpinist and BASE jumper. He died on April 1, at 52, when his parachute failed during a wingsuit flight from a hot-air balloon. Suarez and a documentary crew were filming La Fiera at the time, a documentary about BASE jumping in Spain.

At 17, Suarez free-soloed the Cassin route on the Walker Spur of the Grandes Jorasses. With over 1,000 aerial exits, he introduced BASE jumping to Spain and mentored its pioneers, despite losing friends Dario Barrio, Alvaro Bulto, and Manolo Chana. His ethos, “adventure is not about surviving, it's about living fully," inspired many in his sport.

Liam Byrne

Liam Byrne, British wingsuit champion, died on June 21, at age 24. He died in a wingsuit BASE jumping accident on Gitschen mountain in the Swiss Alps. Byrne, who featured in the 2024 BBC documentary The Boy Who Can Fly, had completed more than 4,000 jumps in his career. He climbed Mount Kilimanjaro at age 12 and became a skydiving instructor by 19.

Marta Jimenez

Marta Jimenez, a Spanish Mujer Adrenalina (Adrenaline Woman) and extreme sports expert, died on July 13 at age 34. She passed away in a BASE jumping accident in the Chistau Valley (Punta Calva, Spanish Pyrenees). A TV personality in Spain, Jimenez's daring on-air challenges and stunts (she completed nearly 400 BASE jumps) brought extreme sports to millions.

Felix Baumgartner

The man who skydived at supersonic speeds from the edge of space, Felix Baumgartner, died on July 17, at age 56, in a powered paragliding accident over Porto Sant’Elpidio on Italy’s Adriatic coast. Baumgartner's 2012 Red Bull Stratos leap, a 39km freefall at Mach 1.25, made international headlines. He made 1,000+ jumps from landmarks like the Petronas Towers and Christ the Redeemer, crossed the English Channel using a carbon-fiber wing (2003), and advocated for safer practices in the sport.

Jean-Jacques Wallis

South African aerial sports athlete and licensed free-flight pilot, Jean-Jacques Wallis, died on November 25, at age 36. He died after a paragliding accident at Lion’s Head mountain in Cape Town, South Africa. Wallis was testing a new high-performance hybrid wing (a type of parakite designed for strong coastal winds and speed flying) when the incident occurred.

Wallis demonstrated expertise in paragliding, skydiving, BASE jumping, speed flying, and wingsuit flying, with more than 20 years of experience. He won a gold medal in the Target Strike event at the World Wingsuit League Grand Prix.

Other adventurers

Cristina Santurino

Spanish ultrarunner and sports nutrition PhD, Cristina Santurino, died unexpectedly on June 10 -- her 36th birthday -- at her home in El Hierro, Canary Islands. Santurino's expertise in electrolyte protocols and endurance fueling advised many athletes, while her doctoral work focused on training approaches. Double winner at Gran Trail Peñalara (TEP 62km and GTP 104km) and Zegama-Aizkorri finisher (6:18:45), her myth-busting classes at Universidad Internacional de Valencia empowered women in ultras.

Andreas Tonelli

Italian enduro biker, Andreas Tonelli, died on July 15 at age 48. He died in a 200m fall while riding solo on a steep trail in the Vallelunga area above Val Gardena, Italy. Tonelli earned over 120k followers thanks to his vertigo-inducing videos, including footage of Puez-Odle traverses and Lofoten tours. A splitboarder and guide, his bike ascent of Nevado Ojos del Salado (6,893m) in the Andes was of particular note.

Karlis Bardelis

Karlis Bardelis, a Latvian ocean rower, died on November 17 at age 40. He died from a malignant brain tumor following a stroke. Bardelis's 2,898-day human-powered circumnavigation -- rowing solo across the Atlantic, Pacific, and Indian Oceans, plus cycling over 50,000km -- set six Guinness World Records, including the first row from South America to Asia and Asia to Africa.

Photographers and cultural personalities

Gilles Rotillon

Gilles Rotillon, a French climbing theorist and academic, died on July 11 at age 78. A passionate advocate for expanding climbing as a popular pursuit, he played a key role in its development through sports federations in France. His writings explored the philosophical and cultural dimensions of climbing. Through his essays, he championed preserving wild sites.

Ivan Konar

Chilean landscape photographer Ivan Konar died on November 21 at age 80. He died from a fall during a photo outing. Konar's Patagonian portfolios (Andes' Wild Heart exhibited globally) captured Valdivian forests and the soul of southern Chile. His 50-year career chronicled Chile's wild places.

Jim Brandenburg

Minnesota's meadow maestro, Jim Brandenburg, died on April 4 at age 79, of cancer at home in Medina. Brandenburg first became famous for shooting the Arctic wolves of Ellesmere Island for National Geographic. His Chased by the Light -- one frame per day across 90 autumn days in the north woods -- earned great acclaim, with four of his images listed in the 40 most important nature photos ever taken. His Brandenburg Prairie Foundation worked to rescue Minnesota grasslands.

Stefan Fruhbeis

German alpine broadcaster Stefan Fruhbeis died on June 16, at age 64. Fruhbeis's Rucksackradio brought mountain stories to millions since the 1990s. Founder of the radio station BR Heimat, his broadcasts drew an average of 240,000 daily listeners.

Francesco Parisotto

Italian Francesco Parisotto, Scarpa's transformative leader, passed away on August 3 at the age of 98 due to natural causes in Veneto, Italy. Parisotto's post-World War II innovations in crampons and rugged packs helped revolutionize mountaineering gear, equipping countless expeditions and high-altitude ascents. With brothers Luigi and Antonio, he acquired and grew Scarpa from an artisan shop in Asolo in 1956 to a global icon.

Paolo de Zordo

Italian alpine rescue leader Paolo de Zordo, dubbed the Angel of Cortina for his decades of Dolomites lifesaving, died on May 14, at age 55, after a long illness. As deputy commissioner and head of piste safety in Cortina d'Ampezzo since 1994, De Zordo orchestrated 20,000+ rescues.

Joan Garrigos

Joan Garrigos Toro passed away on December 7 at age 78. Toro was a prominent Catalan mountaineer, climber, and alpinist who dedicated his life to mountain sports from the age of 14. He served as president of the Catalan Federation of Hiking Organizations from 1979 to 1993, modernizing the organization and boosting its growth, and later led the Spanish Federation of Mountain and Climbing Sports from 1992 to 2021. Toro achieved numerous ascents in the Pyrenees, Alps, Andes, and other ranges. He left a legacy of professionalization and passion for the mountains in both Catalan and national spheres.

“In one of the stars I shall be living. In one of them, I shall be laughing. And so it will be as if all the stars were laughing when you look at the sky at night. You -- only you -- will have stars that can laugh!”
— Antoine de Saint-Exupéry, The Little Prince

Today, the Australian Transport Safety Bureau released helmet-cam footage of an incredibly close call for a quick-thinking skydiver and the plane he was jumping from.

On September 20, a Cessna 208 Caravan took off from Tully Airport in Northern Queensland, Australia. The 17 skydivers on board planned a 16-person formation jump from 4,570m, filmed by a camera operator.

As the plane reached jump altitude and the first skydiver, Adrian Ferguson, positioned himself at the open door to exit, his reserve parachute's ripcord snagged on a wing flap, causing the reserve chute to deploy prematurely. It yanked him backward out of the plane, and his legs slammed into the aircraft's tail, inflicting substantial structural damage.

Meanwhile, the deployed parachute wrapped around the tail, suspending the skydiver precariously below. The pilot immediately felt the plane pitch upward due to the aerodynamic disruption. He had to apply significant forward pressure on the controls and right aileron input to maintain level flight. As the skydiver swung wildly, trying to free himself, the pilot declared a Mayday to air traffic control.

Thirteen of the remaining skydivers exited the plane and completed their jumps safely. Two others stayed aboard, observing as the suspended skydiver — showing remarkable composure — used a knife to cut away 11 of the 22 lines on his snagged chute. This allowed the remaining lines to tear free, releasing him into freefall.

Ferguson then deployed his main parachute. It became partly tangled with the fluttering reserve chute but was still functional enough for a controlled descent. He landed with only minor injuries, including a possible broken leg. The pilot, meanwhile, successfully landed the damaged aircraft safely back at Tully Airport.

Along with the footage, the Australian Transport Safety Bureau released its final investigation report. It highlighted how the skydiver's quick actions and the pilot's control averted catastrophe.

Watch the dramatic footage here:

Four hundred thousand years ago, someone took up a piece of pyrite, struck it against a stone, and started a fire. Archaeologists working on a site in Suffolk have found the pyrite and the scalded clay it left behind. But what species knew how to make fire in Britain almost half a million years ago?

About 1.5 million years ago, early hominins -- the group ranging from Australopithicus to modern humans, but not apes like chimpanzees or gorillas -- maintained fire in open-air sites in Kenya. And 50,000 years ago, Neanderthals may have struck the side of stone bifaces to catch a spark.

The newly discovered evidence in Barnham, Suffolk, fills in a crucial step along the way. It is also now the oldest known evidence for deliberate fire-starting, as opposed to fire maintenance, by an astonishing 350,000 years. Earlier hominins likely used fire arising from lightning strikes or wildfires, but did not know how to create it themselves.

Barnham has long been a fruitful archaeological site. The site attracted at least two separate species of hominin around 400,000 years ago. One of these, which contributed older tools to the site, may have been Homo heidelbergensis. This early human left behind tool remnants in Britain, referred to as the Clactonian culture.

Not dull cavemen, after all

The second culture probably left behind the evidence of fire-starting. They weren't Homo sapiens, who were still living it up in East Africa at the time. The most likely candidate is Homo neanderthalis. A Neanderthal site from approximately the same era was found at nearby Swanscombe, although no human remains have been discovered at Barnham.

Long stereotyped as dull cavemen, Neanderthals were our closest cousins. Recent research shows they made art and ritually buried their dead. Now, it seems they may have started fire as well.

This second, likely Neanderthal culture at Barnham used fire. It left its scars in reddened clayey silt scattered around the site, rich in haematite. Haematite forms when iron-rich minerals are heated.

The team behind the new research, published in Nature, experimented with burning sediments to recreate the distribution of haematite and the magnetic properties of the silt. The closest replica came from a dozen four-hour exposures to temperatures between 400-600°C, a typical hearth temperature.

But it's the flecks of pyrite found at the site that may have just rewritten our understanding of human technological evolution. They were found scattered among pieces of stained flint, and they didn't match any sediment in the immediate vicinity of the site. Someone had brought them there.

Striking pyrite against flint is one of the oldest methods of starting a fire. These pyrite pieces transform the Barnham site into an enigmatic glimpse into the creativity and technological advancement of early human species.

Unless bones are discovered at Barnham, however, we can't confirm exactly who these brilliant cousins of ours were.

The Piolet d'Or awards have begun in the Italian Dolomites, and almost all the recipients and jury members, as well as several well-known climbers, have gathered in San Martino di Castrozza for three days of celebrations.

Tom Livingstone, who was awarded for his route up the West Ridge of Gasherbrum III, was unable to attend, but his partner, Ales Cesen of Slovenia, hurried back from guiding in Antarctica to make it.

The host town plays a significant role in the event's success. San Martino di Castrozza lies in the heart of the Italian Dolomites, within easy reach of the international airports at Venice and  Milan. The local tourism board is showing the best of what Italy, and the Italian Dolomites in particular, have to offer. San Martino was one of the first popular resorts in the 20th century, hosting such illustrious visitors as Sigmund Freud.

Organizer Christian Tromsdoff, president of Chamonix's Groupe de Haute Montagne, does his best to make this more of a celebration of alpinism than an Oscar-style competition. Tromsdoff emphasizes that the awards are given to activities, not to climbers. While being a "Piolet d'Or winner" remains a notable entry on anyone's resumé, the atmosphere is friendly and relaxed. The committee announces the awarded climbs long before the ceremony takes place, so just the successful climbers and their families, plus several former recipients, are here, further removing any tension.

Cima Rosetta

Today, climbers, organizers, and a few of us journalists took a gondola to the high plateau leading to the Refugio Rosetta. On the summit of nearby Cima Rosetta (a short walk from the cable car), we met the always charming Benjamin Vedrines, who found time to be at the venue while promoting his film about his speed climb and paraglider descent of K2. By dinnertime, Victor Saunders and Masha Gordon of the UK, Olga Lukashenko of Russia, and Steve House of the U.S. had arrived. Others will show up in time for the awards ceremony tomorrow evening.

Meet and greet

Today was an opportunity to speak to familiar names about their climbs. August Franzen of the U.S., one of the Yashkuk Sar team, told us about his new opportunity in Valdez, Alaska. He recently inherited a hostel from legendary local climber Brian Teale, who died in 2022. Teale felt that the young August was the ideal person to take over the hostel he ran, plus Teale's huge archive of slides, route topos, and information about the climbs in that part of Alaska.

Climber and anthropologist Young-hoon Oh, one of the Piolet d'Or jury, spoke about the quickly changing social dynamics in Nepal, thanks to the booming climbing industry. And Spencer Gray of the Kaqur Kangri team gave a taste of his upcoming presentation. Yes, their expedition was about climbing a virgin face, but it was also a pursuit of adventure and remoteness in western Nepal.

In Australia, when they say "you’ve got Buckley’s chance," it means you have little to no chance. This is ironic, considering that ex-convict William Buckley managed the impossible: Buckley escaped from a prison sentence, survived the Australian wilderness, integrated with an Aboriginal tribe, and received an official pardon for his crimes. 

Background

Buckley was born in 1776 into a farming family in Cheshire, England. The details of his early life are not known, except that he was sent to live with his grandfather at a young age. This was probably an economic decision because his grandfather was able to provide him with a decent education and an apprenticeship. 

Buckley grew to a burly 6 feet 5 inches tall with bushy hair and eyebrows. Many considered him ugly due to a brief run-in with smallpox. At 15, he learned bricklaying, but seeking more adventure, he soon joined the military, first in the local Cheshire militia and then with the 4th (King's Own) Regiment of Foot, which fought during the Napoleonic Wars.

According to some sources, authorities then caught Buckley stealing a bunch of cloth, though Buckley insisted he was carrying it for a lady. In 1803, the court sent Buckley to serve a 14-year-to-life sentence in the one place every Englishman dreaded: Australia. Since the American Revolution, Britain’s prisons had become overcrowded, and the newly settled continent needed a labor force.

Not dying here

The convicts and British officers sailed for the Pacific in the spring of 1803 on HMS Calcutta. Several convicts died on the way, but most of the 500 souls arrived safely in Sullivan Bay in southern Victoria in October. Convicts were now laborers who lived in huts and worked long hours in the sweltering heat. Not only did they have a very poor supply of fresh water and food, but they were also unable to construct decent houses. The trees were unsuitable building material, and the soil was inadequate. This wasn’t a life; it was a death sentence. 

Buckley and a group of five convicts decided that escaping was their only chance to survive. They planned to go north to Sydney (then called Port Jackson). In December, the group took their chance during a deluge. They took what little food, water, and weapons they could find.

They kept to the coastline and ate shellfish, but their main problem was finding fresh water. During their journey, the thrill of freedom soon turned to desperation and doubt. Food ran out, and they were weak and delirious. Two men were recaptured, others perished or turned back, but Buckley was determined. For weeks, he hugged the coastline, scavenging for food and fresh water. 

Finally, his luck turned when a group of curious Aboriginals found him and offered him a meal and shelter for the night. Buckley didn’t stay with them for long, probably out of distrust. He continued until he found a spear in a burial mound. He took the spear to use as a walking stick, which proved vital to his survival. 

Time with the Aboriginals

Later, the Wallarranga tribe found him hunched over, starving, and exhausted. Because of his white skin, they believed him to be a spirit. Specifically, they thought he was the spirit of a tribal chief who had passed away. The spear Buckley carried belonged to this deceased chief. The tribe believed that the chief had lost his memory from his journey through the afterlife. They gave Buckley food, shelter, and a new name: Muuranong. This was the Chief's name. 

For Buckley, these people were strange. The English considered the Aboriginals barbaric, but Buckley inevitably became attached to this surrogate family, which treated him with dignity, respect, and kindness -- far better than his own countrymen had. When the tribes fought, often over disputes over hunting rights, land, or women, the tribesmen made Buckley hide inside a hut with the women for safety. 

Buckley recalled:

During 30 years' residence among the natives, I had become so reconciled to my singular lot that, although opportunities offered, and I sometimes thought of going with the Europeans I had heard were in Western Port, I never could make up my mind to leave the party to whom I had become attached.

Adapting

Over time, Buckley adapted to their way of life. They taught him their language, traditions, and survival techniques such as hunting, fishing, skinning kangaroos, and roasting opossums. He lived among them for more than three decades, and he forgot most of the English language.

He adopted the Aboriginal style of clothing, wearing animal skins. Eventually, he became deeply respected as both a hunter and a mediator within their society. He was given a wife, and it was said he had a daughter with this woman. 

This new life among the Wallarranga was a dream for Buckley, but it came with consequences. Tribal warfare was unavoidable, and sudden death was a reality with which he had to live. Friends and members of his family died in conflicts with other tribes. These losses broke Buckley's heart, and he headed back into the wilderness. He settled in the Breamlea area near a river and fished to survive. Eventually, some tribesmen found him and stayed with him for companionship. 

Reuniting with the English

Until 1835, Buckley had no contact with Europeans. When some tribesmen told him of their plan to kill white men arriving on a ship, he convinced them not to attack. Instead, Buckley approached the Englishmen who had made camp on shore and tried to speak to them in his now broken English. The group was startled to see this wild white man with long hair wearing animal rags. After some tension, they managed to coax him into sitting down and telling his story.

Buckley’s story was so incredible that it earned him a pardon from Lieutenant-Governor George Arthur. Buckley then began a career as an interpreter and diplomat for the British government, while also advocating for peaceful relations and fair treatment of Aboriginals. His new life took him away from his hunter-gatherer lifestyle, but when he returned, the tribe would rejoice.

Joseph Gellibrand, one of the men who encountered him at their camp on the shore, recalled:

Buckley had dismounted, and they were all clinging around him and tears of joy and delight running down their cheeks. It was truly an affecting sight and proved the affection which these people entertained for Buckley.

Buckley eventually moved to Hobart in Tasmania and remarried. William Goodall, a local superintendent, described a gut-wrenching parting between Buckley and the Aboriginals:

When [Buckley] was taken away on the ship, the natives were much distressed at losing him, and when, some time after, they received a letter informing them of his marriage in Hobart town, they lost all hope of his return to them and grieved accordingly.

Buckley died in Hobart in 1856 after falling from a horse-drawn carriage. 

The elusive seven-armed blob octopus -- yes, that's a real creature -- has been caught on camera for just the fourth time in 40 years.

Researchers were not looking for the octopus, but it wandered into their camera's line of sight during routine survey work in Monterey Bay, California. 

Using the remotely operated vehicle Ventana, they spotted the rare species 705m below the surface. Amazed by what they had discovered, they used the ROV to gather as much information as they could about the sea creature.

The deep sea is one of the most understudied areas of the ocean. Many of its inhabitants are so mysterious and rarely seen that any information on them is a huge step forward in marine research.

At the time, the seven-armed octopus was clutching a crimson red helmet jelly (Periphylla periphylla). Research on museum specimens indicated that the blob octopus feeds on gelatinous animals. Now, researchers have first-hand evidence. In 2017, a female was recorded carrying an egg yolk jelly, but it was unclear exactly why she was doing this.

Misleading name

The octopus varies massively in size. Females can grow up to a hefty 75 kilos, while some of the males are only eight inches long. The males are the reason this species used to be known simply as the seven-armed octopus.

The name is misleading; it actually has eight arms, like every other octopus. But the males keep one arm, the reproductive hectocotylus, tucked away under their right eye. This makes it look as if it has only seven arms. While mating, the males rip off this specialized arm and use it as a tool to transfer sperm to the female.

Although we rarely see them, Haliphron atlanticus plays a crucial role in deep-sea ecosystems. They act as a food source for swordfish, blue sharks, and sperm whales.

Last weekend, around 1,800 other registrants and I attended a three-day virtual event celebrating the history and science of the polar regions. Called Terror Camp, it uniquely blends academia and internet fan culture.

In 2023, polar humanities professor Hester Blum agreed to speak at the event. She was shocked to find that the audience of old men she had expected was actually much younger and more diverse. Amazed by the passion of the attendees and the unusual format, she later told Atlas Obscura that this “could save the humanities.”

Since 2023, Terror Camp has only grown, with more attending in 2025 than in any other year. But what is, I'm sure you're asking, an "online polar fan conference"? Could an extremely online mid-20s history aficionado explain it to me succinctly? Yes, I can.

A short introduction to Terror Camp

In 2018, AMC released The Terror, a television show based on a (opinion: much worse) Dan Simmons book by the same name. The show is a retelling of the Franklin expedition with supernatural elements. It was not a massive mainstream success. But it did make a splash with 20-somethings on Tumblr, a semi-defunct blogging website.

There only being so much to discuss about a 10-episode miniseries, fans soon expanded to the historical Franklin expedition, and then into polar history in general. Soon, a whole community of socially conscious young people with English degrees was blogging rapturously about Roald Amundsen.

The first Terror Camp took place in 2021, spearheaded by organizer Allegra Rosenberg. What started as a Zoom meetup for a TV show quickly grew. By 2022, TC was two days long and included talks on Douglas Mawson, climate change, and Franklin search narratives in Victorian periodicals. Half a decade on, Terror Camp has ballooned in scope, length, and attendance.

Terror Camp 2025

The core of Terror Camp is a series of themed panels streamed live, with each day finishing on a keynote. At an Artists' Alley, independent artists sold polar-centric art prints, stickers, quilts, books, and playing cards.

Colorful slideshows by passionate fan-academics explained the 16th-century Barentsz expedition, the importance of Antarctic benthic organisms, how much the British government spent looking for Sir John Franklin, and more.

I won't list every talk. They were all interesting and presented by a range of experts with clear passion, and you can see the full program yourself on the website. But reading the program will not convey the experience of being in a live chat with hundreds of excited peers, delivering the text chat version of a standing ovation (spamming the clapping hands emoji) in reaction to a biomedical researcher explaining the symptoms of scurvy.

If you will forgive me a moment of earnestness, seeing the unabashed enthusiasm and unpretentious intellectual curiosity of the crowd was really incredible.

There's nothing out there like Terror Camp

I can think of few other events where the curator of Roald Amundsen’s house would be received like a rock star by a Royal Opera of Versailles' worth of passionate fans. His name is Anders Bache, by the way, and his talk was fantastic. He showed us Amundsen's teeth, hair, and umbilical cord.

Another personal highlight of the program was a talk on queerness in historical naval adventure fiction. Seth Stein LeJacq, a history professor specializing in gender and sexuality in the age of sail, explained that the research he was presenting was intended for the Maryland Naval Academy's history symposium. His invitation was rescinded due to the U.S. Government's pushback against the general concept of diversity.

The Defense Department may not have liked LeJacq's research, but the attendees of Terror Camp certainly did. Terror Camp also provided an enthusiastic welcome to research on the repatriation of indigenous artifacts, studying climate change through polar ice cores, and the rampant abuse of Inuit women by 19th-century Arctic explorers.

I've never been in a space that so seamlessly blended academic scrutiny with fun and the open enthusiasm of fan culture. Watching guest actors from the original Terror show fail to answer Arctic trivia was as much part of the conference as the Senior Curator at the National Maritime Museum outlining careers in polar humanities, or a translator discussing an Inuktitut novel.

There is nothing out there quite like Terror Camp.

Grand Capucin in 49 minutes. Aiguille Noire de Peuterey in just over an hour and a half. The north ridge of Piz Badile in 42 minutes and 52 seconds. Linking the four ridges of the Matterhorn in 7 hours, 43 minutes, and 45 seconds.

This brief list of exploits -- perhaps accompanied by Pat Boone's song dedicated to Mexico's fastest mouse -- captures the career of Poland's Filip Babicz, a competitive climber and alpinist who has been living at the foot of Mont Blanc for years.

I spoke to Babicz recently at a mountaineer's gathering near my hometown in northern Italy. We started at the beginning, discussing the child whose father dragged him in the late 1980s to the Tatra Mountains.

From comp to speed

"My father is a guide in that area, so I learned about the mountains by osmosis," Babicz says. "My greatest passion at the time was practicing any kind of sport with a competitive component."

He played everything from ping pong, "which I loved and was actually quite good at," to soccer, "but as a goalkeeper, not a goal scorer."

At 14, Babicz discovered sport climbing, taking it more seriously than his Sunday mountain outings.

"It seems funny," Babicz says, "but within a few months I had already decided that was what I wanted to do with my life. It was a brilliant way to combine my sporting streak with the vertical world I had learned from my father."

For 18 years, sport climbing was the center of his life. He competed first for the Polish and then for the Italian national team.

"I moved to Courmayeur at the turn of the millennium, specifically to practice high-level climbing," he told ExplorersWeb. "I focused more on dry training and sessions at the gym, at most on the crag, which greatly curbed my desire to go to the mountains."

But then came the turning point. In 2015, while Babicz was preparing for the World Cup, he severely injured a finger, which compromised his competitive season.

“It was a nightmare," he recalled. "I decided to compete anyway, with my injured finger, but it was terribly painful. The first race went badly, and I felt obsessed with it, desperate at the prospect of having to sit out months. However, once I returned to the Aosta Valley and digested the disappointment, I realized I felt super trained and in good shape, except for my finger, of course. I told myself that rather than stay on the couch, I'd find a plan B in the mountains.”

At ease in the Alps

There's certainly no shortage of mountains in Courmayeur.

"The Alps are the place where I feel most at ease," Babicz explains. "Mont Blanc and the Aosta Valley are an incredible playground, where you can do anything at any time of day, whenever you want. By comparison, I've been to Huaraz, Peru, and if you want to find a decent crag there, you have to drive three and a half hours. Within a 10-minute radius of my house, I can find 10 crags. If I wanted, I could be under the Grand Capucin in less than two hours, without running. There's no comparison."

Babicz can only say all this now, after falling in love with the mountains again, thanks to that injury.

“And thanks to Kilian Jornet,” Babicz added. “He was the one I thought about constantly in 2015, during my first ascent of the Matterhorn, which I tackled at a brisk pace. I didn't want to beat his record, but his performance made me dream."

One week later, he went to the Gran Becca and took 5 hours and 1 minute to complete the climb, there and back.

"This feat sparked my passion for speed in the mountains,' he says. "I rediscovered myself. For years, I had thought that only competition existed, but that wasn't the case.”

Some detractors might think that speed mountaineering is nothing more than a competition of a different sort.

"That's right," Babicz agrees, "and I'm not ashamed to call myself an athlete before a mountaineer. However, my thirst for speed doesn't clash with ethics."

He says he prefers free climbing a pitch to hanging off aid.

"I practice drytooling, deep-water soloing, and highballing," says Babicz. "All of these disciplines have made me realize that my main interest goes beyond the record itself. For example, when opening new routes, I don't think about chipping holds, not even in drytooling, where everyone at a high level seems to do it.

"This is how the 'Underground Temple' in La Thuile was born. There, in a chalk cave, I've established the world's most difficult routes using only natural holds. I'm not looking for the record at all costs. What interests me is achieving it in an exemplary style."

No attraction to the 8,000'ers

While Poland is home to great Himalayan mountaineers, from Jerzy Kukuczka to Krzysztof Wielicki, Babicz does not seem particularly interested in the highest peaks.

“I approached that world in 2019, with the Polish Winter Himalaya (PHZ) program created by the Polish Alpine Club," he recalled. "The goal was [a] winter ascent of the last remaining 8,000'er unclimbed in winter -- K2. I did two preparatory expeditions with the program, one in the Karakorum and the other in the Himalaya"

However, when the Nepalese did their K2 winter climb in 2021, the program ceased to exist.

"It became Polish Sport Himalaya (PHS)," says Babicz. "Its members are, on average, much younger climbers aiming for lower, technically difficult peaks between 6,000 and 7,000m."

"I continue to be part of it," Babicz continued. "I like the group dynamics and the mutual inspiration, but I prefer mountaineering in the Alps because I feel like an athlete. In the Alps, I'm more likely to take my performance to a very high level.

"And since the vast majority of mountaineers live around here, I consider it a great mountaineering laboratory, where you can push your limits in impressive ways. You can do it in the Himalaya too, but luck plays a decisive role there. It is more manageable in the Alps. I know it's an unpopular opinion, but if I had to choose between climbing an unclimbed 6,000m peak in Pakistan or beating Ueli Steck's record on the Eiger by just 30 seconds, there's no question: I'd choose the Eiger."

The mountains of dreams

However, Babicz's favorite mountains aren't just in the Alps.

"The peaks that have impressed me most, perhaps, are in Patagonia," he explains. "From what I've seen, they're the most beautiful in the world. Cerro Torre seems to be from another planet."

The problem there, he admits, is the weather, which makes any experience more of an adventure than a performance. Rather than attempt to squeeze in something during two small windows within a month of poor weather, he wants to spend an entire southern summer there.

"Winter in the Alps interests me less," he admits. "I'd like to spend that time [in Patagonia] as a sort of training camp...When a good window opens -- if it opens -- I'll try something."

For Babicz, it's all about open-mindedness and perseverance.

“Things don’t always go according to plan...It’s been like this from the beginning, with that finger injury that ended my career, and immediately made me start a new one.”

A trail camera in Grand Marais, Minnesota, has captured two elusive Canada lynx in a noisy woodland showdown.

The footage was recorded in the fall of 2024, but the local Chik-Wauk Museum and Nature Center has only just released the footage. At first, a single lynx wanders along the trail, moving in and out of the frame. Moments later, a second lynx appears. The tension quickly ramps up as the newcomer creeps closer and then launches itself toward the original lynx.

At this point, you might expect a brawl to break out between the two animals. Instead of pouncing and clawing, the cats opt for a vocal sparring match. Noses pointed at one another, with one just off camera, the forest fills with their eerie calls. They growl, hiss, and make otherworldly yowls at each other. 

After a few tense minutes, one of the lynx disappears, still growling at a distance. The other briefly assesses the area, then calmly walks away back into the forest.

Bonnie Shudy, the Chik-Wauk campus director, has said both lynx are “regulars” around the museum, often caught on their trail camera. The exact number of lynx in Minnesota is uncertain, but as of 2022, the estimate was between 100 and 300.

The reason this number is so hard to figure out is that the big cats avoid humans. This is why the trail cameras have been so useful. They provide a real window into the movements, behavior, and communication between these usually solitary animals. 

Through funded programs, the mountaineering associations of several countries train teams of young climbers to become alpinists. For their final exam, the Dutch NKBV Expedition Academy recently brought one such a young team from Holland's flat lands to the 5,000m peaks of the Indian Himalaya.

Alexander Sternfeld, Claartje Meijs, Folke Drost, Jan van der Meulen, Jules de Ruiter, Karlijn de Wit, Laura Oldenburger, Mael Durand, and Joris Timmermans, supported by coaches Bas Visscher, Niek de Jonge, and UIAGM guide Boris Textor, opened seven new routes on rock faces and peaks around the Denyai Valley, a remote corner in Zanskar.

Mixed team building

The team underwent a three-year training program alternating between climbing techniques, psychological support, and team-building.

"Many of the Himalayan expeditions organized back in the 1970s failed due to a lack of communication and internal quarrels among members," Joris Timmermans said. "The mountaineering association [sought] to prevent this with the current national team of young alpinists."

"The team's coaches purposely made mixed-gender teams as the group dynamics and the members' roles are richer this way," Timmermans told ExplorersWeb. "The team selection looks for varied personalities and abilities that could work together as a team. Climbing skills are important, of course, but the team combines people who already climb with others not very experienced but show potential."

At 28, Timmermans was the oldest in the group when he started the program three years ago. The youngest was 22. They also came from different walks of life. Some were students, others had jobs. Some had moved to mountain areas, and others, like Timmermans, lived in a place where the highest hill was 20 meters above sea level.

Zanskar's final test

The 2023-25 team advanced through several stages, from climbing crags to mountaineering in the Alps. Their trip to Zanskar was a final test. Here, they were tasked with opening new routes independently.

Team building began even before the expedition started, as the conflict between India and Pakistan last spring created uncertainty until the last moment. Finally, they went in September, later than originally planned.

Adjusting goals

The team reached the valley with very little information, except for some pictures and tips from two previous expeditions that had trekked, not climbed, in the area. Mostly, they aimed for 6,135m Khang Chan Chenmo, the highest peak in the valley, and Chongzatma, a massif with several points that had drawn the climbers' attention. However, conditions at the time of arrival in the valley force the team to postpone for some weeks.

"After a week of heavy snowfall, we expected to have fully sunny days, as it is the norm in Zanskar," Timmermans said. "But the weather didn't stabilize. Evening rains were common, and that left the snow wet and heavy."

Approaching the peaks was hard and slow -- they sank up to their hips --  and conditions on the faces were dangerous.

"We started opening short rock routes on faces near base camp, where we found great rock quality," he said. "Then we had to wait out one or two days of rain, and then have another few hours to climb some more."

The team opened eight new rock routes and dozens of boulders.

Conditions eventually improved, with clear days and freezing nights. Those in the team who had acclimatized better switched back to higher peaks and mixed terrain, while others kept focused on rock climbing.

"We also [juggled] the teams to make sure that whatever obstacle we found on a route, there would always be someone ready to tackle it," he said.

Alpine climbs

Folke Drost and Jan van der Meule plowed for 13 hours to reach the summit of Nochung Ri (5,700m). They graded the climb as PD+, 45°.

That success cheered the others up, and different groups completed several alpine climbs on nearby 5,000'ers, including the central and east point of Chotzangma (5,800m) and the highest peak of the valley: Khang Chan Chenmo (6,135m).

Here's a summary of their Zanskar successes:

● Chortan Rigib West (5,752m), AI3, 70°, 600m, Folke Drost, Bas Visscher, Joris Timmermans

● Nochung Ri (5700m), PD+, 45°, Folke Drost, Jan van der Meulen

● Chotzangma-Central and East (5,800m), D, 80°, 500m, Alexander Sternfeld, Mael Durand

● Chotzangma-West variant (5,800m), D+, 75°/M4+, 500m, Jan van der Meulen, Jules de Ruiter, Niek de Jonge

● Khang Chan Chenmo (6,135m), 5b, 50°, 700m, Alexander Sternfeld, Laura Oldenburger, Bas Visscher, Niek de Jonge, Folke Drost, Maël Durand

● Rejam Ri (5,600m), 5b+, 30°, Boris Textor, Karlijn de Wit

Read the complete report on the Dutch Expedition Academy's social media:

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"All the mountains were either previously named by the local population, if visible from their villages, or given a Ladakhi name in consultation with our base camp crew (also local)," the team noted.

Like many children, I was devoted to dinosaurs. Their grand scale, their strangeness, the sudden tragedy of their violent end, captures the imagination like little else. It's strange for us, today, to remember than for much of our history, these ancient beasts were unknown.

Of course, we've been finding their bones around the world for probably as long as we've had eyes. They may have inspired mythological creatures like giants, dragons, and griffins. But it was only in the mid-19th century that we began to think of them as a specific group of long-extinct animals, and only in 1842 that they were given a name.

Less than a decade after the word dinosaur was coined, a sculptor with a keen interest in natural history was commissioned to create life-size models of prehistoric beasts. His creations fascinated and frightened, entering the public imagination with a grand dinner hosting the celebrity scientists of the day. On the last night of 1853, twenty-one prominent paleontologists ate an eight-course meal inside a massive model of an iguanodon.

We should get some beasts in this park

In 1851, the Great Exhibition brought over six million visitors to Hyde Park in London, where a specially built Crystal Palace held all the wonders of the Victorian era. But after that first World's Fair ended, Britain was left with a big glass building just sort of sitting there. In 1852, the Crystal Palace was disassembled and rebuilt on Sydenham Hill, southeast of London.

There, artists and experts gathered to design and build exhibitions on a massive scale. Different courts showcased the history of art, society, and the natural world. All aspects of the park were designed around what Victorian elites considered the proper order of things. Science and history were enlisted to support the modern British imperial project.

A scion of that project, Prince Albert, first suggested an area dedicated to all those strange prehistoric beasts that people had been digging up over the past few years. What were they calling them again...? Ah, yes. Antediluvian Monsters.

The man they found for the job was Benjamin Waterhouse Hawkins, a sculptor and artist who had illustrated scientific works, including The Zoology of the Voyage of HMS Beagle. Renowned gardener Joseph Paxton designed a "primordial" landscape with a series of islands, which would be populated by full-sized statuary recreations of extinct animals.

Designing dinosaurs

While Hawkins himself was educated and interested in natural history, the primary scientific mind behind the project was paleontologist Richard Owen: the man who first called them dinosaurs.

In the early 19th century, a few very important fossils were unearthed and described scientifically for the first time. Geologist William Buckland presented Megalosaurus in 1824, and amateur paleontologist husband-wife duo Gideon and Mary Ann Mantell discovered the Hylaeosaurus and Iguanodon in the same decade.

In 1842, Owen compared these three extinct animals and theorized, based on shared anatomy, that they were all part of the same Mesozoic family. He called this family Dinosauria, a Greek construct meaning "fearfully great lizard".

A decade later, Owen brought all his expertise to bear on the Crystal Park dinosaurs project. (A brief note on terms: Technically, only four of the statues are what we now define as dinosaurs, but I'm going to keep referring to them all that way for the sake of brevity.)

Hawkins and Owen were the first to create 3D, full-size speculative replicas of extinct animals. Hawkins created endless sketches and miniature models, studying the fossils and the literature, trying to get it right. Their reconstructions also drew inspiration from modern animals. This is where things got a bit contentious.

A tale of two iguanodons

The biggest debate revolved around the iguanodon. You can tell a lot from bones, but there's also a lot you can't tell. The biggest contention revolved around how they stood and moved.

The first camp was headed by Gideon Mantell, who, as the name he gave it suggests, believed the iguanodon had a lizard-like build. His model had longer hind limbs than forelimbs (this later proved correct) and a long, whip-like tail (not correct, but cool).

Owen was on the other side, vocally championing his view that the iguanodon and the other dinosaurs were built more like large mammals. His iguanodon has the broad-shouldered stance of a rhinoceros and a horn to match.

Owen, a seemingly rather difficult and pugilistic personality, attacked Mantell, publicly accusing him of plagiarizing Owen's own work and calling him "nothing more than a collector of fossils," who could only provide materials for real scientists like himself.

Mantell, unfortunately, was dealing with chronic pain and an attendant opiate addiction following a carriage accident, and his decline prevented a vigorous defence. He died of an overdose in 1852. A postmortem examination found the twisted spine behind his years of pain. Owen added Mantell's spine to his collection in the Hunterian Museum.

A fearfully great dinner

Hawkins, perhaps wanting to balance the two conflicting interpretations, ended up creating two iguanodons. One was reptilian, the other was mammalian in build. But the compromise only went so far. When it came time for the big dinner, it was Owen's iguanodon that would be the star.

That big dinner was an event that Hawkins hoped would legitimize the scientific accuracy of his designs and get people excited for their upcoming unveiling. To that end, he sent out dozens of invitations to prominent zoologists, geologists, paleontologists, and anatomists. While he was at it, he also invited the press and the wealthy magnates who had sponsored the building of the park.

These luminaries received a card, illustrated by Hawkins with prehistoric creatures, inviting them to dinner "in the Iguanodon" on New Year's Eve. Twenty-one of them turned up, probably not knowing what to expect.

What they found was the massive iguanodon, hollowed out with an open back, on a stage hung with banners bearing the names of famous deceased zoologists, and Owens. Owens himself sat at the head, as the symbolically powerful brain of the whole affair.

He opened the event as the main speaker, praising the models in progress and their accuracy. He finished by offering a toast to the deceased Mantell. Though he'd refused to admit it when Mantell lived, Owen was now willing to drink to him as the "discoverer of the iguanodon."

Generously, one could interpret this as a burying of the hatchet. But considering the time and exact place, it may have been more like a victory lap.

The jolly old beast

After a moment of silence for Mantell, the mood picked up. Attendants, including naturalist Edward Forbes, geologist Joseph Prestwich, ornithologist John Gould, and the managing director of the Crystal Palace, grew merry.

Forbes had written a song for the occasion and hired a singer to perform it. The original music is lost, but we still have the lyrics. The chorus goes: "The jolly old beast/Is not deceased/There’s life in him again!/ROAR!"

From surviving menu cards, we know diners enjoyed an eight-course meal that included dishes like mock turtle soup, turbot à l’hollandaise, pigeon pie, and salmi de perdrix. Their desserts were macedoine or orange jellies, Bavarian cream, Charlotte Russe cake, and nougat à la Chantilly. All of it was washed down liberally with sherry, madeira, port, moselle, and claret.

Things kicked off at 4 pm, but it was well into 1854 before the distinguished guests wrapped up, stumbling to the train line.

In all the papers

The dinner was widely publicized. Lengthy reports appeared in the most popular papers and magazines like Punch and the Illustrated London News (ILN). The reports have more than a touch of humor, with Punch joking that "if it had been an earlier geological period, they might perhaps have occupied the Iguanodon's inside without having any dinner there."

Alongside a massive illustration, ILN produced a long and effusive column of text. On the same page, ILN included a long article about Owen's work with other extinct animals. The story appeared in over a hundred newspapers across the British Isles. For many, it was the first introduction to dinosaurs and the science of paleontology.

When the statues their newspapers had praised so highly were finally unveiled, crowds flocked to the new Crystal Palace park to see the massive ancient beasts which had once prowled their island. They proved so popular that Hawkins made a bustling side income selling miniature models and was commissioned to make many more extinct animal models for the park.

The impact of these massive, life-size models on the public imagination was electric. This was a public that hadn't even been introduced to the concept of evolution yet, and it was now coming face to face with massive, draconic beasts existing on a timescale hard even to comprehend. Dinosaur parks proliferated in the following decades.

Soon they began appearing in popular works by Jules Verne, Arthur Conan Doyle, and Charles Dickens. The second age of the dinosaurs had begun. God willing and the creek don't rise, it'll never end.

The Crystal Park dinosaurs reign eternal

The Crystal Palace burned down in 1936. But the park remains, including the 30-odd statues. Over the many years out in the elements, by 2014 the old beasts had taken quite a beating. Several were missing outright.

A charitable organization, formed to protect and maintain the statues and the surrounding geological landscape and art, stepped in. Friends of Crystal Palace Dinosaurs successfully campaigned for funding, and the statues were subject to a year's long conservation program. The dinosaurs were repaired, repainted and in the case of a stolen Palaeotherium, replaced. Historic England ensured the statues' digital preservation in 2023 with the creation of digital scans.

Conservation work is ongoing, and the iguanodons will continue to stand as they grow more and more out of date. Modern paleontological work has shown that real iguanodons looked absolutely nothing like the statues. Oh well.

Pedro Odell, Tomas Odell, and Bauti Gregorini have done a rare repetition of the Royal Flush route on Fitz Roy. The three are rising stars in Patagonian climbing and part of a new generation of climbers who grew up amid these granite spires.

Royal Flush

Royal Flush, opened by Kurt Albert, Bernd Arnold, Jorg Gerschel, and Lutz Richte in 1995, goes up the East Face of Fitz Roy, the longest and most vertical face. At most five teams have repeated the 1,250m line.

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The first climbers didn't even reach the summit: Albert was injured by a falling rock, and the team stopped at the point where their new line merged with the El Corazon route, some 350m below the top. Another German team did the first complete ascent three years later. No one has yet freed the route.

The pioneers free-climbed the entire route except for one pitch, which had an estimated difficulty of 5.12c (7c). Tommy Caldwell of the U.S. freed that crux pitch, but couldn't climb the entire route due to an excess of ice on the wall. Until the route has been completely free-climbed in one go, its difficulty graduation has been set in 7b A0.

"The rest of the route's 40 pitches can be free-climbed, but in difficult, quite vertical terrain, with difficulties mostly of 6C, 7a," Pedro Odell explained.

Too wet to free climb

Pedro Odell attempted the route with his brother, Tomas, and good friend Bauti Gregorini. They had hoped to free-climb the entire line, but were thwarted by an uncomfortable characteristic of Royal Flush: Except in very cold conditions, water runs down one of the most difficult pitches.

 There are bolts at some points of the route, but would-be free climbers just ignore them and use natural protection from the cracks.

"We prioritized being able to summit, but we intended to try a free climb," Pedro Odell said. "However, upon reaching the 8th pitch, which is a 7A, we saw that water was running down. Later, we dealt with other sections with a lot of running water, including the crux, so we quickly forgot the idea of free-climbing the entire route."

Here's a video of the ascent:

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Changes after rockslides

The climbers were also aware that rockslides had affected the route. A large slab fell from the upper part of the route last March, changing some features.

"Some climbers attempting Royal Flush saw that the first pitch had crumbled," said Pedro Odell. "It's like a big chimney that used to be filled with rocks and featured some cracks that could be climbed. Now everything inside has collapsed, so the chimney is large and hollow.

"We still managed to climb the chimney quite well," he added. "We just needed extra caution, as some rocks are still loose, but we were able to free-climb it without major trouble."

He estimates the chimney at around 6C. On the rest of the pitches, Royal Flush featured excellent-quality granite.

A rare chance

"As with all other routes on the East Face of Fitz Roy, you need several days of good weather...[and] also the right conditions, as small variations affect the climb a great deal," he said.  "In our case, perhaps conditions were not the best due to the excess of running water, but, on the other hand, the upper side of the route was dry and clean. Too much ice has turned other teams around."

"A perfect weather window came at the right time, when the three of us were available," Odell said. "We had been dreaming for years of a chance to climb this route together."

Pedro Odell mentioned that the weather has been remarkably good in November, allowing many teams to climb long routes right after arriving in El Chalten.

"I've spent so many nights dreaming of this route, so many hours chatting about it," Gregorini said.

The East side of Fitz Roy is a special place for him, not just because of its technical challenges but also because it's the side that looks toward his hometown.

Children of Chalten

Pedro, 22, and Tomas Odell, 20, are the first-generation Patagonian climbers native to El Chaltén, which was only founded in 1985. The granite spires that are the ultimate challenge for highly skilled climbers were their backyard.

Pedro climbed Aguja Guillaumet, in the Fitz Roy massif, at the age of 13 with his father, Max Odell, a U.S.-born ski legend. At around 17, he began to climb with his younger brother Tomas, then 15.

In 2022, Pedro Odell opened a new route, El Zorro y la Rosa (5.11c C1; 600m) on the South Face of Aguja St. Exupery, with Horacio Gratton and Esteban Degregori. Soon, he was partnering with visiting climbers, including Colin Haley and Thomas Huber. In November 2022, Pedro and Tomas Odell climbed Fitz Roy's Supercanaleta; in March 2023, Cerro Torre.

Bauti, the third climber, also comes from Patagonia and lives in El Chalten.

"Climbing here is what most motivates us, " Pedro said.

They also work as guides in the area. They experienced a different kind of mountaineering in Peru's Cordillera Blanca two years ago, when they climbed the difficult Italian route up 5,830m Tailluraju and did some rock climbing in Europe. But it's hard to leave the most beautiful mountains in the world, especially in the peak summer season.

For as long as humans have known them, anacondas have been giants. The colossal snakes average four to five meters long, and some individuals exceed six meters. They rank among the largest predators in South America’s wetlands, and new research shows they have been this big for a long time. But as other species shrunk, they stayed huge.

Anacondas first appeared in the fossil record 12.4 million years ago during the Miocene era. It was a time of giant creatures. Warm temperatures, vast wetlands, and abundant prey allowed reptiles and other animals to grow to extraordinary proportions. The freshwater turtle reached the size of a small car, and the caiman measured up to 12 meters, dwarfing today’s largest crocodiles. As the climate cooled and habitats shifted, almost all of these super-sized animals went extinct. Not the anaconda.

Paleontologists have assumed that, like many animals, ancient anacondas were larger than their modern-day descendants. A new study focused on 183 fossilized vertebrae from 32 snakes from northern Venezuela, dating back to the Middle and Upper Miocene eras. By looking at the size and shape of the individual vertebrae, researchers were able to estimate the length of each snake.

Found their perfect size

The average Miocene anaconda measured 5.2 meters long, virtually the same size as today's species.

"We expected to find the ancient anacondas were seven or eight meters long," said study co-author Andres Alfonso-Rojas. “But we don’t have any evidence of a larger snake from the Miocene when global temperatures were warmer."

The discovery surprised scientists because they had long assumed that, like most other species, anacondas would shrink as ecosystems changed and resources became more scarce.

Instead, the snakes seem to have found their perfect size early in their evolutionary history and held onto it.

"Species like giant crocodiles and giant turtles have gone extinct since the Miocene...but the giant anacondas have survived," said Alfonso-Rojas. "They are super-resilient."

Why they have not shrunk over time is a mystery. Some think it could be down to their lack of competition for food. Others believe the new findings challenge the long-held assumption that climate is a driving force in shaping the size of cold-blooded animals.

Historians have long wondered why the Black Death took hold when it did and how it spread so rapidly. The bubonic plague tore across Europe from 1347 to 1351, killing an estimated 25 million people. New research suggests that a volcanic eruption was indirectly to blame. 

A 1345 eruption threw ash and gas into the air. This created a haze, which caused temperatures to drop for several years. Although fluctuations in annual temperatures are common, low temperatures for three consecutive years are not.

It devastated harvests and triggered widespread crop failures and famine in the Mediterranean. To avoid mass starvation, Italian cities expanded their trade across the Black Sea. Within weeks of the grain’s arrival in 1347 in Venice and other ports, plague outbreaks began. 

Researchers think the bacterium that caused the plague, Yersinia pestis, came from fleas on wild rodents (possibly gerbils) in Central Asia. As trade routes expanded, so did the number of Black Sea ships with bacteria-ridden fleas arriving in Europe.

“These powerful Italian city-states had established long-distance trade routes across the Mediterranean and the Black Sea...to prevent starvation,” said Martin Bauch, co-author of the study. “But ultimately, these led to a far bigger catastrophe.”

The fleas from the grain ships became the vector that spread the disease across Europe. It quickly passed from rodents and other animals to humans.

Previous research had suggested these expanded trade routes as a possible cause of the pandemic, but this most recent team wanted to shed light on the timing. The bacteria did not suddenly appear in the 14th century; they have been around for nearly 5,000 years. So what suddenly caused its rapid spread?

“This is something I’ve wanted to understand for a long time…Why did it happen at this exact time and place in European history?” said co-author Ulf Buntgen. "It’s such an interesting question, but it’s one no one can answer alone."

A major clue lay in tree rings from the Spanish Pyrenees. During the summers of 1345, 1346, and 1347, bands of unusually narrow “blue rings” signified cooler, wetter summers. At the same time, ice cores from Greenland and Antarctica reveal elevated levels of sulfur, suggesting a global eruption. 

As the sulfur-laden haze blocked the sunlight, it plunged parts of the Mediterranean into colder weather, killing crops and prompting expanded trade. This created the perfect storm for one of the worst pandemics in human history.