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Hello, boys and girls.

This is Tim Ferriss,
and welcome to "The Tim Ferriss Show".

In this episode, we have one of the
most recognized climbers in the world,

Alex Honnold.

- Welcome to the show.
- Thanks for having me.

Alex, who impresses you right now?

This kid Marc-André Leclerc.
This Canadian guy.

Hardly anyone has heard of him
because he's so under the radar.

He's been doing, like, all kinds
of crazy alpine soloing.

- What makes it so crazy?
- He just goes out and climbs

some of the most difficult walls
and alpine faces in the world.

The most challenging things
that anyone's ever climbed, really.

So he's just next level?

Yeah, it's, like, so crazy.
Like, I don't know.

And for those people
who want to see visuals on this stuff,

we'll grab some video and links...

An interesting thing
about Marc-André

is I don't know if there is video
of most of the stuff he's doing.

Oh, really?

Yeah, he's just going out
and climbing for himself

in such a pure style.
It's pretty full on.

At 23 years old,
Marc-André Leclerc

was already one of the boldest
alpinists of his generation.

But he was almost completely unknown.

I spent two years
following this elusive climber,

trying to document his ascents,

and understand
his wild vision of adventure.

Throughout my journey with Marc,

I kept coming back to these mysteries
at the heart of climbing

that have gripped me since I was a kid.

Growing up
as a young climber in Colorado,

I idolized the legendary free-soloist
Derek Hersey,

scaling the cliffs above town
with no rope.

Just a chalk bag
and a pair of old climbing shoes.

You can look down and just,

you know, take in the exposure.

Oh, this is cool!

But one day,
Derek was out soloing

and he fell.

Derek Hersey
was killed last week.

Some people thought
he had a death wish, but he said,

"There's nothing else
that makes me feel so alive."

Ever since then,
I've been fascinated

by these larger-than-life figures...

Getting ready.

...who push the limits
of adventure in the mountains.

I've seen some amazing things...

Tommy Caldwell attempting
to free climb the Dawn Wall.

...and been left to grieve...

Dean Potter lost his life.

...when friends died
pursuing their passion.

One of the world's
best-known mountaineers.

Ueli Steck has died in an accident.

After 20 years of filming,

I'm not sure I've gotten any closer
to understanding at all.

Fucking hell.

Check out the no-hands knee bar, baby.

Alex, why take the risk?

- Why not use a rope?
- Uh...

Those are just dumb questions.

Meanwhile, the sport
of climbing has changed a lot.

Let's head to the gym! Boom!

What was once a rogue activity

for misfits and vagabonds
has hit the big time.

Rock climbing
makes its Olympic debut.

Climbers have become
superstar athletes...

It's raised my profile a little bit,
for sure.

...with armies
of social media followers.

And their ascents
are celebrated and hyped.

Professional climbers are
sharing Snapchat videos from Everest.

This is hair by Everest.
It's a new hashtag, it's a thing.

- Hair by Everest.
- It's a thing.

So I was surprised
to come across an obscure blog post

about an unknown
young Canadian climber

by the name of Marc-André Leclerc.

He had climbed
a 4,000-foot route of rock and ice

in one of the harshest environments
on Earth.

And all by himself.

This was a monumental feat,

but it was just a handful of close
observers freaking out about it online.

So, who was this guy?

To find out, I headed up
to Squamish, British Columbia,

the heart
of the Canadian climbing scene.

Weird-looking donuts, guys.

We got some fresh bites for you.

- You wanna buy a donut?
- Yeah, sure.

Full donut's two bucks.

When I first met Marc,
I didn't know what to make of him.

This is called
"a sky hump into a front flip".

Wow.

You want one?

All right.

He was clearly unaccustomed
to being in front of the camera.

Whoa. That's a crazy light.

Clap in front of your face.

Cool. So tell us how old you are,
where you're from, and what you do.

Cool. I'm Marc-André Leclerc

and I'm from the Fraser Valley,
British Columbia,

lived in BC my whole life.

I'm 23 years old

and I'm a climber, generally speaking.

Yeah, as a young climber
growing up in western Canada,

Squamish was, like, the place to go.

The most accessible big steep cliff
with super-rad hard routes,

the center of the climbing universe,
I guess.

Marc had moved to Squamish,
fresh out of high school,

eager to join the ranks
of the hard-core local climbers.

Right away, as soon as he moved to town,
he was pretty hard to miss

because of his crazy,
youthful exuberance and stoke.

Come down and switch the rope.

I think I was, like, pretty dorky.

Like, super psyched.

And I was always
sort of chomping at the bit,

like, gotta get up early,

like, climb
until my fingertips are bleeding.

He was not afraid to jump
right into the deep end.

Oh, no! Oh, shit.

Crazy.

He came in just all guns blazing.

I was like, "This kid's
a really special breed."

He was a bit young and brash.

You know, it's like, "I'm here,"
you know what I mean?

But if you're not young and brash
between 17 and about 24,

you might as well shoot yourself,

cos that's
when people are young and brash.

Marc was just a true dirtbag.
Like, seriously broke.

He didn't have a car,
he didn't even have a phone.

I had a phone for a while.

Left it in a stuff sack
with some smoked salmon

and then the phone was stolen
by a wild fox.

No way!

I feel like maybe
I'm just better off without one.

For a couple of summers there,
he was, like, living in a stairwell.

It was surprising when he managed
to find a cute blonde girl

to live in the stairwell with him.

His stairwell
was just, like, a small futon

at the bottom of the stairwell,
like, an entryway.

The longer time I spent there,
the more it became decorated.

So then, like, he had tapestries
and pictures.

His stairwell became, like, the lounge.

There was no need to live luxuriously,

because we have what we want,
which is climbing.

It was easiest just to live
as cheaply as we could.

And then we decided
to just move into a tent in the forest.

I was attracted to him

because he was so different
than anyone I'd ever met.

He was also super socially awkward.

But I didn't care,
cos, like, that's who he is

and I love him for that.

- Going on?
- Look, there he is.

Your timing's perfect, guys.
You nearly missed me.

They call me Hevy Duty.

It's a nickname that's been with me
since the early '70s.

I'm more like Light Duty now
than Hevy Duty. Or Old Duty.

Hevy is kind of, like, the mayor
of Squamish rock climbing.

He's also, like, a hula hoop expert.

I went to some big rave out in the woods

and we got talking
and I spin hoops, and he spun hoops,

and that's kind of
how I got in with Marc.

And you talk to him,
what he's climbed and what he's done.

It was like, whoa, and you never
heard of him or anything.

I see young climbers everywhere,
millions of people,

"Look how good I am,"
stroking themselves on Instagram.

The modern world can be a bit bland
but Marc, he belongs in a different era.

He belongs in the '80s, the '70s
when it was, like, wild.

All right.

He's a man out of his own time,
isn't he?

That's why he's so special,
he's a breath of fresh air.

See, I got him going this time.

I am the hoop guy.

Yeah, tell me about Marc-André.

I can tell Marc-André stories all day.

Please do, yeah.

My first memories of Marc-André

was seeing him come running out
of the forest in Squamish,

barefoot with no shirt.

He just broke my speed record
on the Grand Wall

and I was just like, "Who is that guy?"

The Grand Wall might be
the most iconic route in Squamish.

I'd climbed it the fastest
bottom to top.

Speed records are a game.

They're not the most important thing in
climbing, but I do love speed records.

And then this local kid,
who I'd never heard of, did it faster.

I was soloing the route
quite regularly,

and one time, I just decided
to see how long it would take me.

I got to the top and checked the time,

I was, like, two or three minutes faster
than the established record.

And suddenly,
Alex Honnold came back to Squamish

to get his record back on the Grand Wall

that I had kind of, like,
unintentionally broken.

I was like,
"Oh, man, I'm gonna go fast."

He totally destroyed it.
He cut my time in half.

I think I did quite a bit faster.

Here I am in a god ray. Ah!

Enough so that it discouraged Marc
from ever wanting to try again.

Marc is a very, very driven climber,
but he doesn't care about accolades.

He doesn't even care
if anybody knows what he's climbing.

I've always approach climbing
from an athletic background.

I grew up climbing in the gym
and I think of it more as a sport.

But he cares about, I don't wanna say
the spiritual component,

but he cares about the experience
in the mountains, and the journey,

and just wants to have a good time
while he's out there.

And I really respect that. It's a...

I mean, obviously, it contributes to him
performing at such a crazy level.

The first climb
we filmed with Marc

was a solo ascent
of the Grand Wall.

It's always nerve-racking
to film someone climbing without a rope.

But for Marc,
this was just part of his daily routine.

When I'm soloing rock climbs,

I don't really like
to feel like I'm pushing myself.

That's not the reason
for soloing rock for me.

I don't like to feel like I'm doing
something intense and scary or...

So then why do it?

Like, more just
to have a casual fun adventure

and... cruise around.

And when you watch him climb,
he's just magic on the rock.

He's got style, he doesn't lunge,
he's very precise.

There's not the slightest margin
for error

from the minute you set off, is there?

Watching Marc move
so beautifully up the wall,

it was clear this goofy, unassuming kid

was a master of his craft.

I really love
just watching him climbing.

Marc is a very calm
and, like, steady, controlled climber.

Hey, Marco, I missed you.

Yeah, I missed you, too.

I get the fact that he wants
to solo, because I love it, too.

I'm feeling really, like, calm
and good with soloing, too,

so I would be psyched
on going and climbing...

It puts you directly in the present.

You can't be thinking
about anything else.

And you're interacting
and improvising in the moment.

And you're just in control.

When I first met Brette,

she definitely had
a pretty big impact on me.

At that time, I'd lost touch with the
whole climbing portion of my life.

There is a really lively party scene
in Squamish.

Definitely got hard into the partying.

At the beginning, it was pretty, like,
basic experimentation,

like, it was really fun to experience
all these different states of mind.

It's almost like a parallel to climbing.

My friends like to explore a little bit,
and sometimes I like to explore a lot,

and it was the same with the partying.

Everyone would wanna take a tab of acid
and hang out and have a good time,

and I'd wanna take six tabs of acid
and disappear for 20 hours.

But I got to the point where I felt
like I couldn't really do anything

without taking drugs.

Which isn't a healthy place to be.

I remember that.

When Brette and I started
climbing together,

she was just totally going for it.

Hanging out with her
reminded me of what I'd lost,

what it was like to be... spirited.

- Fun.
- Yeah, super fun, hey?

Yeah.

I could see how Marc could
have easily slid down that path,

the dark side of drug life.

- Have a good day, guys.
- Thanks, guys.

Marc is interested
in intense experiences

and living to the fullest.

Drugs can provide some version of that,
but it's not genuine.

And I think he recognized
that climbing is the real experience.

- Nice, Brette.
- It's so cool.

I know, isn't it beautiful?

- What a fun route.
- See?

I know for Marc,

rock climbing in Squamish
is all about having fun.

But Marc's vision is more towards
soloing big alpine faces

on beautiful mountains.

He loves the mountains
and he is definitely ambitious.

He wants to improve upon
what's been done before

to make his contribution
to the history of alpinism.

Alpinism, the discipline
of climbing big technical mountains,

is more than just a sport.

It's an ideal
that has evolved over generations.

In the first half of the 20th century,

large-scale expeditions
used lots of equipment and manpower

to conquer the world's highest peaks.

They stand victorious
on the windswept roof of the world.

By the 1950s,

it was no longer about getting
to the top of the mountain,

but how you got there.

In the European Alps,

there was a revolution
in climbing technique and philosophy.

Smaller teams using less gear

tackled steeper
and more dangerous faces.

That was the next step
in the evolution of alpinism.

Climbing harder, climbing faster
and climbing in better style.

A rope, a rack, and the pack
on your back, that's all you get

and you have to make it work with that.

When you look
through the history of alpinism,

climbing was a form of freedom.

It was physical freedom,
but it was also a philosophical freedom.

And the ultimate experience of freedom
was to climb alone.

Unfettered, unleashed, absolutely solo.

Solo climbing on a high level
is an expression of art.

The art of surviving
in the most crazy situations.

While solo alpinism
may be the purest,

most adventurous form
of climbing,

it's also the deadliest.

Maybe half of the leading solo climbers
of all times died in the mountains,

and this is tragic
and it's difficult to defend.

But this is the philosophy.

If you're going in an adventure,
you need difficulties.

You need danger.

If death was not a possibility,
coming out would be nothing.

It would be kindergarten.

But not an adventure and not an art.

A few months
after our shoot in Squamish,

we followed Marc to the Canadian Rockies

where he'd come
for the world-renowned ice climbing.

There's always a point

where I just cannot wait
for ice-climbing season.

I'm just ready
to go climb frozen waterfalls.

Ice climbing
is a crucial skill in alpinism.

Over the years, it's developed
into its own highly technical sport

and the ice in Canmore
is a proving ground.

By the time we arrived,

Marc had already been there
for a few weeks,

camping outside of town

and climbing things
that had the locals talking.

First time I heard
about Marc-André,

he was living in a snow cave
on the parkway or something.

And he was, like, soloing
all these ice routes all day long.

I was like, "Here's somebody who's
just going after it and pushing things

that is pretty much unknown."

Ice climbing, solo,
it's not something many people do.

You're climbing frozen water

with just a few centimeters
of your ice tools

and crampons in the ice.

It's a very ephemeral medium.

Climbing something that wasn't there
maybe a few weeks earlier

and that might not be there
the next day

if the thing you're climbing on
decides to collapse.

People think the free soloing
that I'm doing seems crazy,

but what I'm doing is on rock.

It's safe in a lot of ways.
The medium is super solid.

And then I see Marc-André
free soloing on ice and snow.

It just shows so much experience
on such different kinds of terrain.

In all my years of climbing,

I don't think I've seen another climber
quite as hungry for it as Marc-André.

He's got this headspace
that nobody else seems to have.

Nothing fazes him.

Marc doesn't just solo the ice,
he goes out and solos mixed routes.

With mixed climbing,
it's the whole mentality

of the ice doesn't have to be
fully formed to be climbed.

Instead of embedding
your picks in the ice,

you're just kind of placing them
on these little rock edges.

That adds another dimension
of insecurity.

Filming Marc on this
insecure terrain was terrifying.

But he couldn't have been more relaxed.

Holy shit, dude.

Then he took it up a notch

by climbing solo
on the notorious Stanley Headwall.

The Stanley Headwall is the
centerpiece of Rockies mixed climbing.

None of the ice
is a hundred percent continuous.

It forms in blobs,
and pillars and hanging daggers.

You have to climb steep, overhanging
rock just to get to the ice.

And so it makes for really good,
engaging climbing.

There's a high degree
of craftsmanship

that has to go
into the mixed-climbing equation.

The pick of an ice ax can hang on
to just the smallest of edges.

But you don't have nerves
going to the end of the ice ax.

You have to evaluate and test.

The difference between having
your pick solidly seated on a hold

and having that pick
explode off of it is very, very small.

I don't know if I've seen someone
climb bare-handed with ice tools

in the freezing temps,
being able to improvise

between pulling on the rock
and pulling on ice tools.

He's just combining all these
unconventional tactics.

Marc soloing the
Stanley Headwall, it's just like, "Wow!

I never thought of that
in my wildest dreams."

- How was it?
- It was super fun. Yeah.

- Scary?
- No, not particularly.

- Just another day out?
- A really good day out. Yeah.

Definitely a memorable day out.

Marc-André soloing
those routes was pretty stunning.

I think right there
that made me sit up and go, "Wow!

Who is this guy?"

I grew up
near a town called Chilliwack.

In Chilliwack, you become
completely desensitized

to the smell of cow manure,

but it's surrounded
by beautiful mountains.

When we were growing up,
my dad was doing construction jobs

and my mom was serving in restaurants.

Aren't you and your mom
really close?

Yeah.

My mom, she's definitely been
a big influence on me.

It's kind of hard to explain.

We've just been really good friends
my whole life.

Marc-André did have
some challenges as a kid.

He certainly didn't come into this world

as a square peg
ready to fit into a square hole.

And he had a diagnosis of ADHD.

So, he didn't sit still for very long

and he didn't fit easily into
the typical educational environment.

Kindergarten was awesome,
like, that first year.

You build things out of blocks,
and do art, and that kind of stuff.

When it started into actual first grade,
and we had to sit at our desks,

it turned into hell for me.

For a kid who had a ton of energy,
who loved to learn,

he was losing his, his joy in learning,
you know, to be in school,

so I made the leap
and I schooled him at home for a while.

We'd do some schoolwork for a while.
Usually it would finish at lunchtime.

And we would do cool things together

like go explore the forest
and identify plants,

instead of just always sitting
at your desk.

If you're never given free
rein to have little adventures as a kid,

you never really learn who you are,

you don't learn what your strengths
or your weaknesses are,

and you never learn that you're capable.

She wanted me to discover
what I wanted to do

rather than pick out what she thought
I should do with my life.

We may not have had
two cents to rub together,

but we always had books
and Marc-André was a voracious reader.

He was really captured by adventure,

so we had a house
full of those kind of books.

And the more interest he showed in them,
the more books I provided for him.

I must have been, like, eight years old.

It was this big, awesome picture book
with stories from all these expeditions.

And the ones about mountains
always really captured my attention.

Looking at pictures of big snowy peaks,

guys with ice axes
trying to climb these things,

I don't know, it seemed really...

brave.

I was so inspired
by all of these climbers of the past

and I wanted to be a part of it.

Like, carrying on the tradition
or something.

At first, it was
just jeans, running shoes,

a few granola bars in the pocket.

Always off trail,
never had a rope or anything.

At times, I was concerned
something could happen to him out there,

but he had a great sense of direction,

and he was very confident
when he was out and about.

After, like, a couple of years
of scrambling around by myself,

it just naturally progressed
to technical climbing.

When I'm in the mountains
on a big adventure,

life is so incredibly simple.

I'm, like, totally focused.

I don't feel that squirrel-brained,
twitchy sort of stuff.

And I have the feeling of clarity
and calmness and control.

The whole climbing part of my life,
everything was falling into place.

But then, like, I went back to school
for high school.

He eventually had to go back
to the standard curriculum at school.

I think to him it was
like a form of incarceration.

Help me!

He was never looking
for trouble,

but he certainly seemed to find it.

Firecrackers explode!

It was clear
he was never going to get

a standard nine-to-five job or life.

He was never wired that way.

Hi, I'm Marc-André Joseph Leclerc.
You might have heard of me.

I am doing some
of the biggest walls in the world.

When he graduated at 16,
he was doing drywall, making some money.

He didn't have a real clear purpose
or plan at that point.

I told him, "If you want
to do this climbing thing,

what are you waiting for?"

And off he went.
Marc-André found freedom to be himself.

He's going to go
as far as he can take it.

- We got it!
- Yeah, yeah.

- Can you just do a kind of blank...?
- I'm gonna look like an idiot.

Smile.

Marc's plan
to become a full-time climber

certainly seemed to be working out.

He'd recently landed
his first sponsorship.

And here we were making a film
about him.

- Serious.
- Really serious?

Really serious,
like your passport.

But Marc had little patience
for posing.

And he was getting restless.

As we were planning the next shoot,
Marc just suddenly dropped off the radar

to who knows where.

We'd even bought him a phone
to keep in contact...

- I'm sorry.
- ...but he wasn't picking up.

The person you called has a
voicemail box that has not been set up.

It's just
a frustrating situation.

You've got Marc
somewhere in the backwoods.

He just disappears
and doesn't call us for months on end,

having all of us waiting and on hold.

My bags are packed.
Everyone's bags are packed.

If we don't hear from Marc,
we might not do the shoot.

We started seeing him
in other climbers' social media posts.

It's day six on the wall
and day five of the storm.

Brette was posting these videos.

- What are you doing, Marc?
- I'll just get a T-slot my for skis

so I can lower Brette over this cliff.

Oh, man.

We saw they'd gone
all the way out to Baffin Island.

- This is so awesome.
- Whoo!

Then Marc was in Scotland

where he knocked off a string of solos
like they were nine holes of golf.

All righty. All righty, then.

You know, he's on a roll, yeah.

He's climbing route after route.

He's just driven at the moment.

Marc has a fire that burns inside.

It just burns.

At one point,
I was climbing in South America,

we could see this tiny, tiny speck
on this 4,000-foot wall.

We could look over and be like,
"That is Marc-André, by himself,

on this fricking journey to the gods."

I was like, "This is messed up.
I cannot believe he's soloing that."

Finally,
we heard Marc was back in Canada,

climbing in the remote Ghost Wilderness.

In an act of desperation,
I called a filmmaker from the area

to go into the backcountry
and track Marc down.

Sender Films,

they said they have lost
their rock-star climber.

Off the grid
and they can't get in contact with him.

They want me to go and see
if I can find him.

He shows up, and Marc
is out there with Brette and a friend,

and they're putting up
hard first ascents

on these huge walls,

having the time of their lives.

Nice, Brette.

Falling!

Hey, Marco,
how is it down there?

It's great.

Here we go.

I think it's so cool
that you're making a movie about Marc.

But honestly,
he doesn't care about movies.

He's not gonna put
the time and energy

into making his own climb
significant to the world.

He's out climbing,
he's too busy climbing.

Pretty incredible, the weather.

He's different than any climber
we've ever dealt with.

He doesn't share
any information with us.

It's frustrating,
but at the same, it's pretty noble.

Marc just kind of follows his own path.
He's a free spirit.

And that can be difficult
to plan around.

Kind of makes him lovable
in this weird way, you know?

He doesn't give a fuck.

This whole time,
chasing Marc around,

it was clear he was building up
to something big.

But we had no idea what it would be.

Then the news broke.

He had made the first-ever solo
of the Emperor Face on Mount Robson.

And it sent shockwaves
through the climbing world.

When I heard
that Marc had soloed the Emperor Face,

it was one of those like, "Holy shit!
Marc soloed the Emperor Face."

That is absolutely outstanding
and probably the greatest solo ascent

of anything
that's been done in North America.

Robson is the king.

It's the highest mountain
in the Canadian Rockies.

It's like three El Caps.

But Robson is not Yosemite.

It's got glaciation, it's got crevasses,
it's got avalanche.

You're climbing rock, ice and snow
all at the same time.

It's a legendary, mythical objective,
even with a rope.

I was frustrated
that Marc had made this historic ascent

and he hadn't even let us in
on his plan.

Eventually, we reached Marc
and asked him why.

When you guys approached me
about doing a film,

it seemed like a cool experience,

but I've never let you guys
come and shoot one of my real solos.

Why not?

Because it wouldn't be a solo
to me if somebody was there.

Yeah, I mean, I guess that's true.

It's just a completely different
experience if somebody comes with you.

Yeah, even if they don't help you.

It just wouldn't even be remotely close
to the adventure that I was looking for.

The only way I was interested
was actually doing it fully by myself.

And if that happened,
I'd be OK to go back and film.

I had this really awesome experience.

Now, I'm actually ready
to share it with people.

So Marc invited us back up
to film on Mount Robson

so we could see first-hand
his approach to solo alpinism.

For me, the very best climbs

are when you can walk up to a mountain
with nothing

except for your ability to climb,
and that's it.

Being by yourself out there,
immersed in your environment,

tuning in to the rustle of the leaves...

...the sound of the wind
across the ridge,

the aura that the mountain has.

On his big mountain solos,
Marc follows a simple set of rules.

He carries no communication device

that could be used as a lifeline
if things go wrong.

And he climbs on sight,

meaning he's never been
on the mountain before,

never rehearsed the route.

He has to figure it out on the fly.

The gold standard of alpinism
is the on-sight solo.

A climber approaches a mountain
without any prior knowledge

and just climbs it.

But it's only for the very best climbers
on their very best days.

You know, it's such a deadly game.

The goal is
to climb as safely as possible.

But when you step into the mountains,

and there's stuff
that's beyond your control.

You control what you're doing,

but you can't control
what the mountain's doing,

and that's by far
the biggest danger in my mind.

The mountains are alive all around you
and you're kind of at their mercy.

You have to think about avalanches,

seracs that can collapse at any time.

You have to learn to read the signals
that the mountains are sending you.

The conditions of the snow, the ice,
what time of day is it gonna get sun,

what the weather's gonna do.
It's like a game of chess.

You have this ultimate goal,

but then unpredictable things
are going to happen.

I think that interaction with
the environment, with the mountain,

is, like, a huge part of what makes
alpine climbing so interesting.

And if you're smart
and you, like, make the right moves,

you can, sometimes against the odds,
pull off a great climb.

One of the coolest feelings

that a human can experience
is, like, to feel so small

in a world that's so big.

Moving over the mountain
unencumbered

is about as close
as you're gonna come as a climber

to sprouting wings
and being totally free.

Absolutely awake, absolutely alive.

Receiving any kind of impulse
that's coming in

and reacting to it almost instinctively.

It's a great dance.

Marc is doing things
that people thought could never be done.

He's redefining what's possible.

This is the evolution of alpinism,

and it's happening right now
in our backyard,

and it's happening with that young guy.

But I am definitely concerned
for Marc-André

and anyone else pushing the limit
of what's been accomplished soloing.

The place he is in
is such a special, finite place,

and such an incredibly risky place.

Marc-André is playing
with a pretty heavy deck right now.

He is walking relatively close
to the edge in big environments.

And I think he can do a fair amount
of that and get away with it,

but sooner or later,

it's gonna bite him.

He is gaining recognition
because of his solo climbing,

and all of this is wonderful for him,
and it's exciting to hear about,

and read about and watch.

But... I mean,
maybe it's just an age thing,

but I find it a little bit scary.

I just... You know,
I just hope he's careful.

He's really comfortable
in mountainous terrain.

Sometimes I wonder
if he's just almost too comfortable.

One could say
that it's crazy and irresponsible

to place yourself in that kind of danger
for what?

Kicks, glory?

I think that free soloing
is a very emotionally charged subject

and so it draws strong reactions
from everybody.

If you fall and die,
everybody thinks you're an idiot,

you're a risk-taker, daredevil,
like, "What an idiot."

If you succeed,
everyone celebrates you as a big hero.

But the reality is you're
the same person either way.

People are always freaking out
about soloing,

"It's such an unacceptable risk.
People shouldn't be doing this.

What kind of example does this set?"

I mean, I know it's dangerous.

I'm not, like, deluding myself
that it's not dangerous to go soloing,

but I probably just have
a different view of everything, I guess.

You know, like, to me,
it's not really an unacceptable risk.

I'm still so young.
There are so many things I wanna do.

I've really had to think about it
within our own lives,

because we do put ourselves
in situations

that anything could happen.

Like, an avalanche
could take you out randomly.

The more times
you put yourself in that situation,

the more likely it's gonna happen.

And yeah, sometimes it's concerning
the amount of soloing he wants to do.

He has an insatiable desire
to do more at an extreme level.

I worry for him, of course.

A few months after Robson,
Marc set off for Patagonia

at the far southern tip
of South America.

His objective was a climb
that had never been attempted.

A winter solo ascent of Torre Egger,
the most difficult peak in the range.

Patagonia's jagged summits

are a proving ground
for serious alpinists,

who gather each summer
in the village of El Chaltén.

But in the winter, the mountains
are lashed by vicious storms

and El Chaltén is a ghost town.

To go winter climbing
in Patagonia solo,

he's definitely upping the game
by a lot.

Going to Patagonia in the winter!
It's just mind boggling.

The weather is horrific.

Avalanche hazards
can be extremely high.

And trying to solo Torre Egger
on sight.

I mean, Torre Egger is a coveted peak.

Some people consider it
the hardest peak in the Americas.

People ask me,
"Don't you worry he's not coming back?"

I just shake my head,

"Marc will be coming back.
He's got this sixth sense."

Soloing Torre Egger
had long been a dream of Marc's.

So he obviously didn't want
a big film crew.

But this time,
he was willing to bring one cameraman,

his climbing buddy, Austin Siadak.

I'm gonna basically just try to keep up,

tag along, and document
as best as I can along the way.

I don't wanna, like,
impose on his experience.

Austin would hang with Marc
in town

and shoot some climbing
on the lower sections of the route.

But for the summit push,
Marc would climb alone

and bring a small camera
to capture what he could in real time.

Yeah, this is Torre Egger.

I've been thinking about this climb
for the better part of a year.

If there's ice, it might be quick

to go straight up this ice gully
under the serac and then...

Torre Egger
is this 1,000-meter rock pillar

rising up out of the glacier
with an ice arête in the middle.

You know, not always perfect rock
and capped with ice mushrooms.

I could look at it on paper and be like,

"OK, like, this is
totally mathematically, like, feasible."

But at the same time,
it still seems a little bit out there,

like, "Whoa, this is the next step
for me."

I spent the majority
of the last year doing things

that would prepare me for this climb.

A ton of mixed climbing,
and a ton of ice climbing,

and then the Emperor Face.

It was all sort of preparation
with Egger in mind.

Just gonna check weather models.

I check all these models
multiple times a day.

Friday morning, the wind rolls in,
with precip.

When the lines are close together,
that means a lot of wind.

The peaks right now
are just getting nuked.

We have to hang out in town
and wait for a weather window.

Coming down here by yourself
in the winter time...

...you become immersed
in the El Chaltén life.

Hanging out with the locals.

And they're making you
part of the family.

Yeah, it's actually like
a big part of the whole experience.

I know a lot
of the best climbers in the world.

Marc is a really unique person.

He has an incredible humility.

One hundred percent positive,
very peaceful,

and always treating the world
with lots of love.

It's like the mountains have elevated
his consciousness to another level.

Just checking
the latest meteogram.

Looks good, like, Tuesday, Wednesday.

- What does that mean?
- Means we're going climbing.

Part of the crux of soloing
in these mountains

is the amount of stuff
that you have to carry.

It's pretty heavy.

Like, when you have
to put everything on your back

and just, like, solo with the pack on.

This bag, like, ripped open.
I've taped it shut.

It's lost half its insulation.
It just means it's even lighter.

It's even more super light.

What's your general diet

for getting ready
for the mountains there, Marc?

Well, I don't wanna sound grim
or fatalistic,

but it's, you know, undeniable
that every time you go to the mountains,

it could be your last time,

so all these things that you love
you have to appreciate.

Whatever dinner you'd want
to possibly be your last dinner,

you have to eat it.

Cos you're going to the mountains.

Yeah.

The whole game
is very simple.

We go somewhere that we should not go.

Where our own instinct is telling us,
"Do not go there."

Many things can happen.

We can fall.

The storm can take me away.

We know that we could die up there.

But still, we go there.

We try to make real our dreams.

Our visions.

I had spent a whole year
imagining this climb,

and I felt
like I had the skills to do it,

and it would require all of them.

But I don't know the route whatsoever.

No idea how this is gonna go.
Like, no idea what to expect.

Conditions
are definitely tough right now.

You can see my trail there.

I was literally
digging through a trench,

through chest-deep snow
with wind slab on top,

and I think there could be
a lot of this kind of snow

on the hanging glacier in the gully.

And not only is it really hard work,

I think avalanche conditions
could be quite dangerous.

So I'm gonna go over
and see how the rock is

and see if that goes.

I started on really snowed-up rock,
which took quite a long time.

Well, two pitches of climbing
and it's kind of heinous, actually.

Here's my tracks.

I have to go tack
along the edge of that serac

and bivvy on top of it.

The climbing was hard and slow.
Conditions were awful.

I think the route goes up there.

I had to keep taking my gloves off.

My hands were numb because of the cold.

Almost on top of the glacier.

Definitely challenging so far.

There's my backpack that I'm hauling up.

Check out my hands.

My fingers were bleeding
and everything was just kind of gnarly.

Well, here I am at the top
of the hanging glacier

and I'm settled in for the night.

I originally hoped to be
six pitches higher than this

on the snow arête.
Not going as fast as I wanted to.

You split left
off of that hanging glacier

and that brings you to the snow arête
in the middle of the east pillar.

I've come a good ways now.

Here's the snow arête
that I wanted to make it to yesterday,

but, you know, it just goes how it goes.

There's the upper headwall,
so we'll see.

I might be able to keep going
even if I have to make one extra bivvy,

one more than planned.

You're switching constantly
between boots, crampons and rock shoes.

You'll climb an ice pitch

and then all of a sudden,
you're on a rock pillar climbing 5.10.

Or mixed climbing

through some narrow gully
filled with ice.

It's just, like, everything
in the repertoire.

Well, I'm in the upper ramp,

looking down the route.

When you encounter a situation
where you're like, "OK, this is real.

I can either keep it together
and do this

or I can, like, fall apart
and have a meltdown."

You gotta do one or the other.

And that process
of evaluating the situation,

and then getting it together,
and carrying on,

it's a challenge every time.

Well, persevering,
and things are working out.

Quite the view.

I'm literally in the middle
of the headwall.

I'm stomping out
this sick little platform to sleep on,

the only place I could find to bivvy,
which is super cool.

I'm gonna freeze my ass off tonight,
that's for sure, but that's OK.

Yesterday,
progress was so slow and difficult

that it was kind of discouraging,
but now I'm in a really good position

to go for the summit tomorrow morning.
I'm only a few pitches away.

So as long as the weather holds,
I'm psyched.

Hey, Brette, this video's for you.

I just wanted to, uh...

let you know that when I'm out here
in these mountains by myself,

I really miss you.

And I'm thinking about you a lot,

and there's a part of me that...

wishes I could just quickly rap
to the ground,

and get out of here,
and change my flights,

and come back and see you,
cos I'd love to...

just... yeah, see you.

I love you.

I woke up at around five in the morning,

peeked outside my sleeping bag.
A full snowstorm was starting.

Now, I just have to pack up
as quick as I can

and rappel the whole mountain
in blizzard conditions.

I hope it goes well, cos it's a long
and complicated way down.

Holy shit!

Well, I'm back in my tent.

I am sorry to say
that I did not reach the summit.

But... I survived,

which I think counts for a lot.

Kind of a bummer, cos I made it
within four pitches of the top.

It was still probably one of my very
best solo efforts in the mountains,

just in terms of sticking with it
and coming really close, and...

And, you know I always said...

Cos I've always dreamed
of trying to solo Egger

and I always said

that if you got caught in bad weather
near the top of Egger by yourself,

that's the ultimate nightmare,
and it actually happened to me,

and I made it down just fine, so...
That's kind of... That's cool, I guess.

I was relieved to hear
that Marc had made it back down.

And after such a close scrape,
I figured he would just fly home,

unsuccessful, but safe.

Well, it's amazing just feeling
how tired I am from that climb.

But Marc couldn't let it go.

He saw another weather window
in the forecast,

this one even shorter than the last.

And on Friday,
you have half of a good day,

and overnight's good.

And he decided to go for it,
again.

This time, he was raising the stakes.

Because I already know the route,
I decided I could do the route in a day

without carrying any bivvy equipment.

But I won't have the option
of sleeping up there on the mountain.

I have to go really light and move fast
in order to get it done.

Here we go.

For his second attempt,
Marc would carry just a small pack

with no sleeping bag, no extra food.

Just the basic tools
to climb light and fast.

Starting the climb that night,

he hoped he could get
to the summit and back down

before the next storm crashed in.

Good luck, Marc!

Well, it's 5:45 in the morning
and I'm back at my first bivvy site

on top of the hanging glacier.

It's only taken me a couple of hours
to get here.

So, yeah, off to a good start.

I'm just going for it,

just this tiny little adventure
on this huge mountain.

Well, the sun's rising.

Check out how incredible this is.

I'm more than halfway
up the route already.

Well, I'm in the upper ramp.

Things are working out.

I'm on the summit of Egger!

Super psyched!

Yeah, look at this!

Holy smokes!

To solo Torre Egger

seemed like the perfect combination
of everything I'd learned how to do.

Pretty full-on conditions.

It's almost like my whole life
leading me to a certain place.

Nice work, dude.

Yo.

- How's it going, dude?
- How do you feel?

- Perfect.
- Dude, yeah, things are awesome.

No alpine ascent is truly complete
until the beers go clink.

- Cheers.
- Cheers, man.

Here we have the guy
who climbed the Torre Egger, Marc.

- Sí.
- Sí.

When you grow up,
you'll climb Torre Egger many times.

Psyched to be going back
to States?

Yeah, I'm super stoked to see Brette

and eventually see the family
back up in Canada.

There's the taxi.

I have to negotiate,
cos I don't have pesos.

When Marc comes out
of the mountains,

he has this, like, radiating energy.

He's had some sort of extreme experience

that had moved him deeper
than anything else could have.

When you're in the mountains
with a mission,

it's like all the superficialities
of life just sort of evaporate,

and you can often find yourself
in a deeper state of mind,

and that can stick with you
for a while after a big climb.

You appreciate everything so much

that you take for granted
most of the time.

It's kind of funny.

The actual achievement
doesn't really change your life

like you think it might,
when you're building up to it,

but what you're left with is the journey
that got you to that point

and if you have this big journey

where you had
to figure a lot of stuff out,

and you had to plan,
and it was more immersive,

and then you were somewhere
really beautiful for a long time,

and then had to work really hard,

and overcome
some kind of mental barrier,

you're left with so much more
of a story

or, like, a memory and an experience.

And that's what I find
is the most important.

For two years
filming Marc's climbs,

it was like trying
to capture lightning in a bottle.

Now, it was time to assemble the film
and release Marc back into the wild.

He still had so many mountains to climb.

OK, Brette, I'm secure!

Hey, dude.

And that is where
I thought this story would end.

But while we were editing,

Marc chased a weather window
up to Juneau, Alaska,

where he met up with
a strong local climber,

Ryan Johnson.

Climbing as a team, with a rope,
they made a first ascent

on the north face
of the Mendenhall Towers.

At the summit, there was cell reception.

So Marc sent text messages
to his mom and to Brette.

And Ryan sent a video message
to his girlfriend.

Hey, babe, figured why not
be up here with me?

- Marc, right there.
- Yeah.

Pretty amazing up here.

We've got a long way to get down,
so we're gonna get to it.

The descent
does not look straightforward.

But by the next morning,
nobody had heard from them.

Brette was on a sailboat
off the coast of Tasmania.

She was the first to realize
they were late to check in.

She contacted search and rescue,
took the next flight out,

and called us
when she landed in Alaska.

They didn't make it back
to their skis.

- Fuck!
- Yeah, so I don't know, Pete.

- I'm so sorry.
- I don't know what to do.

I don't know what's gonna happen
or what would happen if...

A climber from Squamish
has gone missing in Alaska.

Marc-André Leclerc and another climber
were last seen on March 4th.

We followed Brette up to Juneau

and met Marc's family
at the search and rescue office.

Some of Marc's friends from Squamish
had come along to help with the search.

But a storm had rolled in,

so nobody could get
a helicopter in there.

All we could do was wait
for the weather to break

and hope that somehow,
they were still alive up there.

After four agonizing days,
the weather finally cleared enough

for search and rescue
to fly a helicopter into that zone

and get visuals of their descent route.

With all the new snow, conditions
were too dangerous to land there,

but they spotted a rope.

It was covered in avalanche debris

and it was clear that Marc and Ryan
were buried there.

There was no chance of survival.

We were hoping
to do a recovery of their bodies but...

it didn't happen.
They just disappeared into the glacier.

I remember sitting out there
on the ice field and wondering, like,

"Why wasn't I with him?"

Like, I felt I should've been there.

I didn't even know
that life could be that painful.

I didn't even know it existed
until you experience it.

It's like we're kind of living
in this blissful magical life,

and then you're hit
with this shockwave of pain,

and you'll never be the same.

After he died,
I just didn't care about anything.

Nothing mattered.

Maybe I would just disappear also.

But then I remembered this conversation
that I had with Marc.

Marc said
that if something happened to him,

he wants me to keep going.

He didn't want me to lose my spirit.

He just wanted me
to keep climbing, keep loving life,

and be happy. Yeah.

You have no idea how hard it is.

In theory you can say it,
but to actually be living that...

I went back to Alaska.

It's so beautiful there,

but being there without him
felt so awful.

You're right over there.

I was in so much pain

and the only time
I could feel an escape from that

was being in the mountains.

I keep returning to these places
we climbed together.

They are infused with him.

I came upon this piton
and I'm certain it's Marc's.

I feel like you're here, Marc.

I just miss him so much,
like, I miss our adventures together.

I wish that we could be here
together again.

But I know that you'd want me to be here

and I know that you'd be proud.

Thank you for giving me your vision

and thank you for sharing everything
with me.

Just his typical smile.

Yeah.

You guys have a similar smile.

How I'm doing
is a day-to-day thing.

Without Marc-André, yeah,

it was like something was suddenly
and irrevocably wrong with the universe.

It was, like,
that's just not how it should be.

I'm sorry.

In some indefinable way,
you've moved to another place

and you have to learn how to live there.

A few months after the accident,

friends came to Squamish from
all over the world to celebrate Marc.

I traveled from Patagonia, Argentina,

to be here for Marc's memorial.

I think he left
a magical impression on all of us.

There will never be
another Marc-André Leclerc.

He was one of a kind.

He was an individual individual.

He just burned very bright

and he left an indelible mark on a lot
of people in a short time, didn't he?

Wow, there's a lot of you.

As any parent knows,
raising children is a tough job,

but I am thankful

that at least God granted me the grace
to understand this about my son,

to not stand in the way of his passion
for the mountains.

Of course, I worried.

What mother doesn't worry
about the children she's raised

to leave her and go out

into this beautiful
but dangerous and broken world?

It's so exposed.

I believe Marc-André
lived the life he was intended to live.

That he was meant to scale mountains,

stand on summits,
find his way into lonely valleys...

Super happy.

...and love one woman
with all his heart, his little B.

- How are you, Brette?
- It's pretty chilly.

Tolkien in The Hobbit says,

"There are no safe paths
in this part of the world.

You're over the edge of the wild now."

Oh, yeah, look at that.

Well, Marc-André, you
are truly over the edge of the wild now.

The storm came in
with a strong north wind.

I hope the mountains there are
amazing and the sunsets are beautiful.

And then it cleared for a bit
as the eye of the storm passed over us.

We are all richer for calling you son,
brother, partner and friend.

Thank you for giving us
25 remarkable years.

Holy fuck!

Having come to know Marc
as a friend, as well as a climber...

...it's hard to reconcile
the idealism of his ascents

with the tragic consequences.

That's why alpinism remains
such a contradiction in my mind,

such a mystery.

But I believe what Marc did
with his time on Earth was beautiful.

He followed
the course of his own dreams.

A lot of us live our lives
thinking of the things we'd like to do

or the adventures we'd like to have,
but we hold back.

That's what really stands out to me
about Marc-André's journey.

It's about what is it that you would do

if you were able to overcome
the things that you see as limitations

or the things that you're afraid of?

You know, what would you do?

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