Will Gadd, lucid prophet of ice climbing

It was a long time ago. A piece of ice dangled in the Freissinières valley (France). A Canadian, who had come for the Rassemblement de glaciairistes in Argentière-la-bessée, decided to take a look. He climbs up the big overhang equipped with spits, then, with a great movement, ends up anchoring an ice axe in the ice, which he joins in a great split. We were stunned: Will Gadd had just climbed Double Scotch, a futuristic M7+ (?) at the time.

Twenty-five years later, a series of coincidences, not the least of which is that we’re still in one piece, bring us together on the same train from Montenvers to Chamonix. And I show Will Gadd the photo (below) of Double Scotch I took of him. His passion for ice and mixed is intact. It’s no coincidence that we’re on the same train as the Arc’teryx Alpine Academy trainees, who have come to try their hand at ice climbing with one of its prophets.

On this day, as on the rest of the year, Will Gadd shares his passion on his social medias. For the gestures that are so important, and so neglected in ice: ice axe planting, foot placement, body positioning. And then there’s safety and risk management, on which Will Gadd shares his experience. Mountains, ice and mixed are dangerous sports, he reminds us. As is paragliding, for which he once held a distance record. It’s up to us to learn what all these activities have in common, which is their environment, he explains, the aerology, the snow cover, and so on.

Will Gadd is always passionate about what he does, but he’s equally passionate about teaching. With rare humility, he takes his time to pass on his knowledge. His smile lights up his wrinkles, making us forget the rainy Mer de Glace. And reminds us that lugging pieces of junk up the mountain is all about sharing a moment with friends.

You’ve done a lot in the mountains over the past 25 years. What’s your best memory of ice climbing?

Will Gadd : Every route is a product of its time, moments in history. You showed me this photo of Double Scotch in Freissinières, in 1999, and it reminded me of that time… We’d done something really cool, it was a beautiful moment, and I’ve had a few like that in my life. I’m very lucky. Perhaps one of the most memorable moments was the route I did with Jeff Lowe in Colorado: Deep Throat in Glennwood Canyon. A route that’s rarely repeated. Then I discovered Helmcken Falls, a really striking area. To discover that this unique place existed was a dream!

Will Gadd’s ascent on the Double Scotch hanging ice cube in Freissinières (FR) in the late 90’s. ©Jocelyn Chavy

At the time, in the late 2000s, no one had ever climber Helmcken Falls?

W.G. : No, everyone thought I was crazy, that it was stupid, that it didn’t work, that it wasn’t possible to climb it. But it was the same with mixed climbing: at first, everyone said that it was stupid and that you couldn’t use ice axes on rocks. Now it seems normal, but not then.

It’s like Octopussy, I just thought it looked really cool. That’s what mixed climbing is all about: you climb the obstacles! That’s what I wanted to do. Stalactites forever! So, yes, it’s really dangerous, but it’s also really beautiful. As ice climbers, or even mountaineers in general, we learn to operate in this environment. Not in complete safety, but with a reasonable margin. And we don’t do these activities because they’re safe, we do them because they mean something to us and are important. We think the risk is worth it.

You also said recently that you climb differently now than you did 5 years ago. What has changed?

W.G. : I’ve learned! I think it’s important to study mountains. I’ve done it all my life, and I’m learning about how they work and why. So I’ve learned different techniques for my climbing, with different equipment and different ice. All this allows me to teach it to people. In the end, a lot of what I learn about ice climbing comes from teaching. Because it’s not that hard to do something, but it’s very hard to explain it to someone. That makes my understanding of what I’m teaching much deeper.

I’ve seen you teach and you explain a lot about climbing movements. You explain in depth the art of ice climbing, hip movements, arm movements, what to do and what not to do. You’re really committed.

W.G. : I try, yes. When I do ice climbing, I find it beautiful and enjoyable. And I want other people to have the same experience. Not just the violence and the cold. Because when I was young, ice climbing was war! I had cuts on my face, frozen hands, it was hard. And 5 years ago, I wasn’t able to explain that to people, whereas now I want them to get a good feel for this kind of climbing. I want them to understand the balance and to climb, really climb!

On your social medias, you also talk a lot about security. Why is it important for you to use your accounts for this?

W.G.: I think a lot about safety, for my personal practice, because I know I do dangerous things. But I want people to be able to make the right decisions. People who have died aren’t on social medias saying that it’s dangerous, that they died because they didn’t understand the situation, because they made a small mistake that cost them their lives. So I think it’s important, especially for those who are a little older, to try and give realistic feedback on risk.

Who inspires you in the mountains, and which books inspired you to take up ice climbing?

W.G. : I learned ice climbing from my father, who was also a climber. I did my first route in my garden. I’d built my own wall when I was about 12, using my mother’s kettle and a wall in thee garden. I’d taken my father’s equipment – which was obviously much too big for me. And the little ice wall fell on me! The shoes were so big that my feet came out of them. My dad was furious, looking for his stuff, and I had to tell him it was under the ice.

Then, when I was about 16, I really started climbing, on rock and ice, on my own. But the books by Yvon Chouinard and Jeff Lowe really influenced me. I read and read and read, as much as I could and as much as I could find on the subject. Again, it’s all about learning, and I wanted to learn! So I read everything – there were no videos or social medias back then.

And then I was lucky, I got to climb with my heroes. I read Jeff Lowe’s books, then I climbed with him, the real Jeff Lowe! He was a very funny guy… By the way, here’s another example of a climber who died. Most of the people who taught me to climb are dead. And that has an impact. So to climb such things, you have to find a deep personal meaning. Otherwise, there’s no point! And you shouldn’t do it for the money – the reward lies elsewhere…

Is the reward teaching people or being in the mountains as much as possible?

W.G.: It’s both! Being out with people who want to learn. And finding ways to communicate with them… Everyone’s different, so I can teach them through humor, by being quiet, by showing, by encouraging. That’s what I see as the reward.

You’ve climed with many companions. Do you dislike climbing solo? 

W.G.: I’ve done a lot of solo climbing, but I never talk about it. It’s a personal thing, I’ve never let a photographer or cameraman come along.

When you watch Alex Honnold do it, are you afraid for him? 

W.G. :  Yes, I don’t like watching someone do a solo – that’s why I don’t post photos or videos myself. It’s scary, you don’t know how it can end… and I find it really personal. But Alex, when you talk to him about what he’s doing, you can tell he’s put a lot of thought into it. He’s smart, he doesn’t just jump in.

The funny thing about the climbing world is that we look at solo climbers as a special case, people who take too many risks. Whereas we rope climbers are much closer to a soloist than to someone who goes running every Thursday. I’ve worked on relative risks in different sports, and we’re much closer to these soloists, even if we rope up.

Yes, you want to show that ice climbing can have serious consequences… 

W.G. : I want to give people a realistic and reasonable view of all this… without scaring them! Rather, to give them a basis on which to build. If you know the gravity and the danger, you can make good decisions. But if all you see are the pretty pictures on social networks, that’s not realistic. We don’t show pictures of everyone who falls. This year, in North America, there have been more than 13 very serious soloist accidents…

I think that in our outdoor communities, soloing has become normalized. When I was a young climber, soloing was something very special, very high and very big. Like: “Maybe I’ll do that, one day!” And now it’s normalized, even though it’s still soloing, not easy climbing! I think we’re making normal something that should be (and remain) exceptional, something you do when you really feel capable.

About 3 years ago, a French team went to the Himalayas on an expedition, and three people died. One of the companions wrote a letter saying that those who do this are ultimately selfish because they never say they’re taking so many risks. And that they should be more honest about the risks. How do you feel about that?

W.G.: Yes, I remember that terrible accident. I think she’s right: we’re not honest enough with ourselves about the risks. I think that’s also part of what I want to convey: to be honest with ourselves and with the people around us. That’s not to say that what we mountain people do is bad – and I don’t tell anyone how much risk they have to take – but I think we should have a good (better) understanding of risk. In our current culture, we don’t. Reinhold Messner said it best: in his own generation of mountaineers, 50% died. If you’re a full-time mountaineer, I think that’s pretty accurate.

So how can one be honest with itself? 

W.G. : I think it’s important to know what you’re doing when you put yourself out there, so that you can make better decisions. When you look at the old guides, they crossed the danger line very carefully.

Or when you go to NIagara Falls, for example! That’s just as dangerous…

W.G.: Yes, but I don’t have the solution: what I do is dangerous. But this area is one of the coolest… It’s huge, it’s noisy, the power of the water is incredible. I go out there and work very hard to make sure that the main danger lies only with me, and not with the people filming or photographing me. If I make a mistake and kill myself, it’s me, but I don’t want to take anyone else down with me. I have to be very careful, and that’s what matters most to me. I worked for two years on this climb, to understand how the water rises and falls and so on.

A lot of what I do in the mountains involves the same risks, but I don’t spend two years working on it. It’s complicated… You can’t prepare for all the hazards of an entire mountain either.

In France, ice climbers are keenly aware that there is less and less ice in condition. In North America, there’s a lot more, but what can we do when the ice isn’t in condition – which is where we’re heading more and more?

W.G.: The best thing we can do is tell our stories, our experiences. For most people, climate change is abstract, or far away. But for those of us who live in the mountains, it’s very real. I often use this example: if you’re working in Paris, and you get to your office and it’s half gone, you’re going to have a real problem. That’s what happens with guides and glaciers. That’s what happens in the mountains. In the same way, our oldest refuge in Canada – which had been there for 100 years – has disappeared because of permafrost.

As mountaineers, we need to share our stories, because it’s in the mountains that global warming is most obvious and blatant.