Alex Honnold Soloing Taipei 101

Frank Stein wrote:

Okay, Matt & Robert. I challenge you two to name one high-end solo that wasn’t practiced beforehand or one high-performing soloist that did not make that a standard practice. 

Sorry you didn't get the joke: "There's no red-pointing in soloing."

Because you [climber] went splat. No repeats allowed. It would be more like red-painting.

“Sorry you didn't get the joke: "There's no red-pointing in soloing.”

Matt I got the joke and thought it was clever!

Entertaining thread in general…

Frank Stein wrote:

“I'd considered the Phoenix on and off all season. I'd worked on it for two days and thought about it a bit. I'd decided that if I did it I wanted one of my friends to shoot it. The first day I worked on the route there were TWO rainbows in the waterfall below us. It was amazing. I figured a route like that, especially one that you have to rap into and therefore already have a rope on just has to be shot. It's so beautiful. So after I rapped in and warmed up my friend pulled the rope and my harness back up and filmed the solo.”

Most certainly did not onsight free solo The Phoenix.

Thank you for this info, Frank!

Alex Honnold Solos the Phoenix - Behind the Scenes 

YouTube video for those who haven’t seen it.

Ricky Harline wrote:

Is there anyone with strong feelings or opinions about this that is able to articulate why they do? I genuinely can't comprehend it. 

If by "this" you mean climbing alone, or without the aid of a rope...

... I think it's the reduction of the moment.

Life is complex, a lot of options, an ability to launch out in any direction at any moment.

Climbing simplifies the equation.  Simplifies the focus. There's up, there's down, maybe an exit ledge.  Maybe even just save it for another day.  On long routes, to see all your problems back in the world simply drop past your feet, drift down the route, roll out into the fan of the valley, carry out over the horizon like some receding wave ... it's a feeling like no other.  You grind away at work, crush extra hours, to free yourself from the grind in the mountains.  When it all drops away in the simplicity of the moment, you've won.  

Climbing with a partner, 

you've got options, the benefit of it not being all on you, the complexities of partnership dynamic, the reassurance of the rope, even if that means maybe hiking unburdened by the weight of the rack you hiked in there, having left it all behind on the bail.  Options, complexities, as simply as your life has been reduced on that day: you and a friend, up or down, and so forth ... the equation can be further simplified.

Climbing by yourself, 

it's all on you.  You've shed the partnership dynamics, the support, the failure ... you've simplified it to being all on you.  The ropework can be soul crushing.  But, there are those days where it all just flows, a freedom of movement, selfishly reserved, just for you.  That selfish reservation, a complication. The rope running down to your anchored pack need not terminate into a soulless tangle of nylon, steel and aluminum - your friend could be there; conversely, that could be you there for your friend.  But, shouldering all the burden, all the risk, reserving all the joy or pain for yourself - that is a simplification over partnered climbing.

And it's that rope, 

that rope complicating the situation, it can be removed, further reducing the equation.

The reduction of the moment.

It's now you, your little ballerina shoes, a bag of gymnastic chalk; maybe a pair of axes and front points.

However worthless your rope may have been while doing roped soloing - bad gear, upside down falls, anchors getting yarded on in all manners of direction - you now realize that rope was, indeed, quite an aid.  Aid never being a guarantee, though, an aid nonetheless.

Your world has become very small.  Up. Or back down. Or.  

It doesn't have to go smoothly, just be survivable, however ugly.

When it does go smoothly, when you work your way up that big swath of sheet music, when you hit every note just right, you get pulled into a world that's smaller than you've ever imagined, very easily forgetting where you are, what's at stake.  The one-hundred-thousand million light year expanse of our observable universe, reduced to just what's within your reach.  This tiny little spec, on a swath of stone or ice, wholly indifferent to your presence.  And that's where you have to pull yourself out from your own indifference and pull yourself back into more conscious presence.  The sides of the equation stripped of complexity; reduced to the simplest terms; but that solution needs to be up.

Jason EL wrote:

If by "this" you mean climbing alone, or without the aid of a rope...

... I think it's the reduction of the moment.

Life is complex, a lot of options, an ability to launch out in any direction at any moment.

Climbing simplifies the equation.  Simplifies the focus. There's up, there's down, maybe an exit ledge.  Maybe even just save it for another day.  On long routes, to see all your problems back in the world simply drop past your feet, drift down the route, roll out into the fan of the valley, carry out over the horizon like some receding wave ... it's a feeling like no other.  You grind away at work, crush extra hours, to free yourself from the grind in the mountains.  When it all drops away in the simplicity of the moment, you've won.  

Climbing with a partner, 

you've got options, the benefit of it not being all on you, the complexities of partnership dynamic, the reassurance of the rope, even if that means maybe hiking unburdened by the weight of the rack you hiked in there, having left it all behind on the bail.  Options, complexities, as simply as your life has been reduced on that day: you and a friend, up or down, and so forth ... the equation can be further simplified.

Climbing by yourself, 

it's all on you.  You've shed the partnership dynamics, the support, the failure ... you've simplified it to being all on you.  The ropework can be soul crushing.  But, there are those days where it all just flows, a freedom of movement, selfishly reserved, just for you.  That selfish reservation, a complication. The rope running down to your anchored pack need not terminate into a soulless tangle of nylon, steel and aluminum - your friend could be there; conversely, that could be you there for your friend.  But, shouldering all the burden, all the risk, reserving all the joy or pain for yourself - that is a simplification over partnered climbing.

And it's that rope, 

that rope complicating the situation, it can be removed, further reducing the equation.

The reduction of the moment.

It's now you, your little ballerina shoes, a bag of gymnastic chalk; maybe a pair of axes and front points.

However worthless your rope may have been while doing roped soloing - bad gear, upside down falls, anchors getting yarded on in all manners of direction - you now realize that rope was, indeed, quite an aid.  Aid never being a guarantee, though, an aid nonetheless.

Your world has become very small.  Up. Or back down. Or.  

It doesn't have to go smoothly, just be survivable, however ugly.

When it does go smoothly, when you work your way up that big swath of sheet music, when you hit every note just right, you get pulled into a world that's smaller than you've ever imagined, very easily forgetting where you are, what's at stake.  The one-hundred-thousand million light year expanse of our observable universe, reduced to just what's within your reach.  This tiny little spec, on a swath of stone or ice, wholly indifferent to your presence.  And that's where you have to pull yourself out from your own indifference and pull yourself back into more conscious presence.  The sides of the equation stripped of complexity; reduced to the simplest terms; but that solution needs to be up.

This isn't climbing, it's a circus act.

What a farce and degrades the Free Solo achievement. 

From Climbing (magazine):

So why now? And why Taipei 101? As it turns out, Honnold has been angling to free solo Taipei 101 for over a decade. He had plans to climb it live on the National Geographic Channel in 2012, back when Taipei 101 was the world’s second tallest building. Then National Geographic rescheduled the live event for 2014, but ultimately cancelled it. In Outside’s interview with Honnold over a decade ago leading up to that event, he noted that he wouldn’t want to free solo Burj Khalifa. He called the Dubai tower “too hardcore” and “the El Capitan of buildings.”

Even if free soloing the Burj Khalifa feels too hardcore for Honnold, why return to his Taipei 101 objective? Perhaps he feels pulled to complete this unfinished project first imagined in 2012. Maybe it’s because a new location of The North Face—Honnold’s longtime sponsor—opened inside Taipei 101 last spring. The building also aligns with Honnold’s commitment to cleaner energy, with its Leadership in Energy and Environmental Design Platinum certification. And after all, Taipei 101 is “magnificent,” as Robert wrote in his first memoir With Bare Hands.

John Tuttle wrote:

This isn't climbing, it's a circus act.

What a farce and degrades the Free Solo achievement. 

You are my favorite troll. Your posts never fail to make me smile hillbilly, you are truly a master of satire ❤️ please never stop entertaining us mountain project forum readers.

Def not a household name.

No one's ever heard of him. 

Make buildering great again!  

Robert S wrote:

I think people like Honnold and other famous climbers are not just monetizing their talents, which they should if they can, but are also commercializing climbing and contributing to what I call the "gymnification" of climbing.

Yeah, he's really destroyed the good reputation of "Buildering." 

Haha I didn't watch the Netflix thing or the reels of it, but that interview was nice.

"I only gamble with my life."   

Cherokee Nunes wrote:

Haha I didn't watch the Netflix thing or the reels of it, but that interview was nice.

"I only gamble with my life."   

He can't really believe that it's only his life that will be destroyed in the event of non-perfection.

It was a joke. As to the inner workings of his mind I'll leave that to him.

David S wrote:

He can't really believe that it's only his life that will be destroyed in the event of non-perfection.

Walking down a sidewalk in a city is a gamble as well. Best stay in a padded room.

MattB wrote:

Walking down a sidewalk in a city is a gamble as well. Best stay in a padded room.

The subtle complexity of your argument passes me by.

David S wrote:

The subtle complexity of your argument passes me by.

It's dangerous because Alex Honnold might fall on you.

David S wrote:

He can't really believe that it's only his life that will be destroyed in the event of non-perfection.

Millions of people take bigger risks every single day when they go to work. Think coal miners, commercial fishers, loggers...

Andrew Rice wrote:

Millions of people take bigger risks every single day when they go to work. Think coal miners, commercial fishers, loggers...

To expand on that, my bro Alex is super experienced and skilled at climbing and soloing. If you put him on a commercial fishing boat, I'll bet he dies pretty quick! 😂

(From here on out, he will be forever referred to as 'My bro Alex')