Mic Fairchild, here climbing Wind Tower in Eldorado Canyon State Park, fell 50 feet while climbing in September 1998. He suffered two broken legs and head trauma.

By Carol Kauder, Special to the News
October 21, 2006

They say there are no old, bold climbers. It's a reference to the concept that if you take a lot of risks in climbing, the odds will eventually catch up with you.

"They" apparently haven't met Mic Fairchild.

Not only has Fairchild been climbing for more than 30 years, but much of his climbing has been "free solo," or without ropes.

He is a familiar face around the crags of Eldorado Canyon State Park, just outside Boulder. Plenty of climbers have stories of struggling on a challenging climb, only to have Fairchild ascend past them in a deliberate choreography of fluid movements, not slowed by ropes, protective gear or a partner. Many more can attest to parking lot chitchat with the gregarious bachelor, who is full of smiles and opinions.

At age 52, Fairchild hardly is "old." Yet in climbing, which reached mass- market consciousness in the 1990s, few have climbed for as many years as he has. He started in the 1970s, when, as he puts it, "climbing was dangerous and sex was safe." Climbers used rudimentary gear and wore hiking boots, rather than the specialized sticky-soled slippers used today.

"There weren't many climbers in those days," said Bob Culp, who started climbing in 1959. "Even if they all did still climb, there wouldn't be that many."

Family and health intervened for most, putting Fairchild, Culp and others like them in a small fraternity of veteran climbers who still are active in the sport.

Culp, a climbing guide who owns the Boulder Mountaineering store in Boulder, got to know Fairchild in the 1980s when the two would encounter each other on the Eldorado Canyon cliffs while both were soloing.

Solo climbing can be breathtaking to watch. Fairchild might ascend 50 feet, or several hundred, often holding to the rock by fingertips and pointed toes. Roped and placing protection, it might take him and a partner all day to climb 1,000 vertical feet; soloing, an hour.

It is a given that a fall while soloing will have tragic consequences.

And yet, Fairchild doesn't consider himself particularly bold, either, at least not anymore. He usually climbs four days a week and lives a short distance from "Eldo," which long has been considered a national climbing Mecca. A typical day involves "a lazy breakfast and a 1,500-foot solo." Not bad for a guy with a handicapped parking permit.

In September 1998, he suffered a 50-foot fall that easily could have been fatal. He survived with two broken legs and head trauma, and spent three months of recovery lying flat on the floor of his home. He had to learn to walk again but was back to skiing and climbing within the year.

He had been climbing a relatively easy route with ropes. Rappelling off the Peanuts Wall, he momentarily was distracted as he came to the end of the rope.

He's aware of physical setbacks since the accident but attributes some of that to age. At his athletic peak, he could lead 5.13 on roped climbs, at the time the hardest rating. He would solo 5.11. (For reference, a sporting goods store climbing wall is 5.3 or so. Many dedicated climbers never reach the 5.11 level, even with ropes.)

These days, he'll climb 5.11 roped, and sticks to 5.9 and 5.10 for solos.

Fairchild insists on downplaying his efforts, striking a tone between humble and cavalier.

It's not that he has no fear: "Exposure is scary," he said. It was scary the first time he climbed after moving to Colorado from Southern California in 1974, and it still is.

"There's the fear of falling. The fear of injury. The fear of failure," he said.

He has learned to "channel that fear into something positive," like concentration and focus on a solo climb.

"The concentration level is very high on a solo climb. All sen- ses are heightened," he said. "Climbing without ropes, no matter how easy, is focused and intense."

That's what he loves about it. Soloing requires the climber to completely master a level that is below the edge of their capability, and do it well.

"Solo climbing touches the essence of the purity of the sport," Fairchild said.

This ethos is somewhat contrary to the style of "sport climbing" popular now, which is more about climbing the most athletically challenging routes while eliminating much of the risk. Falling is a regular part of the sport and considered a means of pushing to the next level.

Fairchild harks to the early days of climbing, when "doing it gracefully was as important as doing it."

"When 5.13 was the top grade, I was falling off 5.13," he said. "At that level, you figure out five feet (before falling). Even then, I'd rather go do a 5.12 I'd never done before and climb it without falling."

What Fairchild considers his ultimate achievement is not the highest graded route he has climbed, but an on-site solo first ascent in 1998. "First ascent" means being the first person to climb the route. "Solo" means without ropes. "On-site" means climbing a route without stopping that you have not climbed. He rated his climb 5.10a and named it "Smoke and Mirrors."

Most soloing happens on routes climbers have climbed with ropes, or at least read or talked about and know what to expect. To solo a first ascent is to embrace the unexpected with complete focus and confidence. It's extremely rare in climbing.

Hearing about Fairchild's pride in "Smoke and Mirrors" was "really eye-opening for me," says Boulder filmmaker Peter Mortimer, who featured Fairchild in his climbing films Scary Faces and Front Range Freaks.

"His highest achievement wasn't just about grades, it's the style of the climb," Mortimer said. It's a departure from the attitude of most of the younger climbers in his films, few of whom are familiar with Fairchild and his accomplishments.

Fairchild is amused sometimes to find people waiting at the bottom of a climb to congratulate him. He realizes soloing looks impressive to onlookers, but to him, it's all about achieving that internal mental intensity.

He reaches for the right word to describe the feeling, and ends up making up one.

"It embiggens you," he said. "It enriches you and enlarges you and soothes you."

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