If you think ageism isn’t an issue in rock climbing, chances are you’re younger than 40.
Like so many athletic pursuits, climbing — and the climbing industry and media — have long prized youth and its implied strength, health, and vigor. Look around at climbing films, ads for gear, and brands’ athlete rosters. And look at the national and World Cup competition scenes.
Top climbers over 30 are an anomaly, with their age often commented upon. I’m thinking of Akiyo Noguchi, who was a target for these remarks from commentators at a whopping 32 in the Tokyo Olympics. And climbers over 40 in the upper echelons are nearly nonexistent.
And yet ours is an experiential sport, and the more years you have in the game, the wiser you get at decrypting moves, managing your energy, and keeping yourself safe and injury-free. Even if your body is in its slow, inevitable decline. In fact, you can often offset age-related performance decline through experience and training or even surpass your younger self — more on that later.
So why is it that we hear so little about older climbers, or that when we do, it’s almost always accompanied by the hackneyed “still.” As in, “so-and-so is still crushing at age 56.” Shouldn’t we be more enlightened at this point?
Hell, a 59-year-old, Pietro Bassotto, just ticked a 5.14c in Italy — L’Extrema Cura Plus. Former World Cup champion Robyn Erbesfield has been putting down V11s in her mid-50s. And the Brits Neil Gresham and Steve McClure are executing scary 5.14 headpoints in their early 50s.
Clearly, age need not be a barrier to climbing hard.
Ageism in Climbing
‘Sir, Excuse Me? Sir?’

Two summers ago, when I was a youthful 48 (I’m 50 now; 51 soon), I was at Crag 6 in Ten Sleep, Wyo., on a busy August day. I was certainly among the oldest climbers there, but I wasn’t thinking about it in those terms.
Have you ever had to remind yourself, “I’m XX years old today, and so I must act this age around other humans”? No. You’re just you. Such is the continuum of life. Or, more existentially, the reality of being a mind and soul locked in a disintegrating cage of muscle and bone.
That day, I lowered after onsighting a climb on the pocketed sweep of the Rap Stars Wall. The climb had been hard enough, but I never felt like I was going to fall.
Down on the ground, some big-voiced poltroon had been announcing his presence at the crag all afternoon. He was spraying about this route and that and ordering his subalterns to climb only on routes he’d designated as commensurate with their abilities. This blowhard started saying, “Sir, excuse me? Sir?” in my general direction.
Having no idea he was talking to me, I ignored him. I mean, who calls someone “sir” at the crag? I had 5-day stubble and was wearing sap-stained basketball shorts and a ratty T-shirt. I wasn’t sporting a lambskin briefcase and a three-piece suit from Brooks Brothers.
But the guy kept pressing. Finally, I figured out that he meant me. I looked over.
“What’s up?” I said.
“How hard was that route you just did, sir, and was that onsight?” So, I was the “sir” in question …
“5.13a, and yes, onsight,” I responded, slowly turning away.
He shook his head in disbelief. Mind blown. Apparently, people who look like I do — gray hair, in the late 40s — don’t actually have one foot in the grave and are allowed out in public. Hell, we may even succeed on the occasional rock climb!
The Culprits: ‘Bros’ Stories
In my informal survey of friends my age or older — some in their 60s and 70s — I found one commonality to their stories of ageism at the cliffs. It was almost always directed their way by bros, young men in their teens and 20s. This has been my experience as well. Testosterone, ignorance, and insecurity are a losing combination.

Nancy and John Bouchard
Chuck Odette

Lynn Hill
Lee Sheftel
A Positive Spin on Ageism
A Different Outlook
Bob Siegrist
Chris Weidner

Conclusions for Myself
‘Do You Still Climb?’
