All language subtitles for The Alpinist

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.

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.

All right.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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!

Whoo!

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.

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 mindboggling.

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.

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.

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.

Whoo!

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's45 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!

Whoo!

Yeah, look at this!

Holy smokes!

To solo Torre Egger

seemed like
the perfect combination

of everything
I'd learned how to do.

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.
-Yeah, things are awesome.

No alpine ascent
is truly complete

until the beers go clink.

-Cheers.
-Cheers, man.

-Sí.
-Sí.

When you grow up...

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.

-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.

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.

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

and I know that you'd be proud.

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.

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 Hobbitsays,

"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.

Whoo!

Thank you for
giving us 25 remarkable years.

Holy fuck!

Whoo!

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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