Climbing and Conversations with Sasha DiGiulian, Star of ‘Here to Climb’

November 2021 – As the sun rose over Yosemite Valley and I paced the parking area above the Rostrum, I nervously waited for Sasha, her husband Erik Esterholm, and their dog Moose to show up. I’d never met them but our mutual friend Ryan Sheridan connected us. Ryan knew I’d been climbing the North Face often and knew she wanted to do it.

I’d been frequenting the route as a training climb to regain my confidence on the rock. Shortly before Brad Gobright died in 2019, he and I had done the route, and I struggled. Starting at midnight the day before, we’d attempted El Corazon on El Cap but bailed atop Freeblast because it was too hot and I was too slow. As we retreated, Brad snagged my ATC and bolted. Now alone and rapping old fixed lines, my Gri Gri wasn’t locking up, and I got terrified since I couldn’t stop myself while descending the crackling, splintering ropes. After a few hours of rest, we headed to the North Face, and he told me there were bees at one of the rap anchors. He didn’t seem bothered by the real chance of getting stung. He carried a scant gear rack and ran it out bolder than I’d ever seen (and I’ve climbed El Cap with super bold climbers, including Leo Houlding.). Brad stitched pitches together into 80m stretchers, never pausing or hesitating.

After the Rostrum with Brad, while covered in sweat and stinking like a filthy men’s locker room, we met up with Alex Honnold for the premiere of Free Solo at the Yosemite Theater. As they chatted, I disappeared into the crowd while people held their noses around me. That day is etched into my memory, and today, when I climb the Rostrum, I think about Brad. I miss him.

To work through my new fear of rappelling and regain my strength and confidence on the rock, I started doing the Rostrum a few times a week. I selected the rack meticulously, packed super picnics, and led each pitch with a variety of partners. Instead of shaving the rack down after each lap, I actually brought more gear. Feeling safe made me climb better; no need to run it out. I didn’t pack bars, but instead, pie and cheese, fruit, nuts, and deli meats. From bottom to top, I wanted everyone to be comfy. We listened to music from a tiny speaker, danced at the anchors, and hauled a bag full of hot tea, cookies, ice-cold water, energy gels, etc. I joked that we were doing the ABCs – Always Be Comfortable.

Back to the day I met Sasha. She pulled up in a giant black Escalade, with Erik driving and Moose and his enormous body taking up the entirety of the back seat. Sasha stepped out, and we walked in. As we chatted, she told me her story – topics covered in the film Here to Climb — which began with her hip dysplasia surgeries in 2020. As we made our way through the forest, downclimbed a few exposed sections of rock, and made a series of rappels, she went into detail about her fears that after her surgeries, she would never climb hard again. I listened, and when we weren’t talking, we enjoyed Taylor Swift playing out of my tiny speaker.

I didn’t yell commands out after leading my pitches. I quietly sent texts – “off belay, ready to haul… belay on, climb when ready.” I lent her my elbow sleeves so she wouldn’t get scraped up in the wide cracks. I shared secret beta, including where the knee bars were, where critical hidden foot holds were, and how to reach that jam that was just out of reach. I aided moves off the anchor until I got secure pieces in, as I didn’t want to risk falling on her. When I climbed cruxes, including sending the 5.11c fingers pitch, she rooted me on all the way and cheered as I reached the anchor.

Toward the top, right before the final 5.11 crux, we paused at the anchor. She wiped a tiny streak of blood off her face, which she got from grazing her cut finger along her cheek while following the previous pitch. As we munched on snacks, we talked about fear and her desire to be a stronger trad climber. She could tell I felt in my element, but she was not. Though well within her ability – Sasha’s a world champion comp climber with sends up to 5.14d — jamming cracks made her feel like a beginner again and she liked the challenge and how it humbled her.

She asked how I felt while locked off and placing gear. She wondered if I was terrified or calm. I explained that climbing cracks, especially now that I’d rehearsed this route so many times, was the most relaxing feeling I could imagine. When everything came together, there was nothing that brought me more joy. I didn’t mention that each time I sat back on my ATC to rappel in, I had to control my nerves and have faith that I would reach the anchor below without mishap.

Years later, when we headed up the fixed lines leading to Heart Ledges on El Cap, I shared that I had to face my fears head-on here. She was empathetic and gentle with my feelings. Everything went smoothly despite wet ropes, stretchy lines, and awkward traverses. Glad the fixed lines were new.

Back to that first day on the Rostrum, I watched her follow the last pitch and directed her when to leave the wide crack and find the jugs on the face. We packed up the bag on top as the sun crested over the Central Valley, made the final rappel to reach the notch and hiked out.

The following day, I flew to Tahiti to cover a story for Men’s Journal about shark swimmer Denis Grosmaire and explore Makatea, an island rumored to have the best climbing in the South Pacific. While nursing a hangover, I asked Denis to stop the boat and if he could play some Manu Chao on his ukulele. He played it perfectly as I got increasingly more sunburned. Here, with the waters of the Pacific lapping against the hull and me with a throbbing headache, we talked about fear. Denis and I sat in his dingy over a coral garden as manta rays swam underfoot and he told me how swimming with tiger sharks, and that hugging and kissing them was his way of experiencing ultimate relaxation. We talked about Sasha and what she shared about fear while on the Rostrum. How I felt relaxed on a lead while placing gear, and how she sought the same feeling.

A month later, I returned to Makatea, this time with Sasha and her film crew, to make an episode for her show No Days Off. Scenes from that trip make it into Here to Climb.

I packed the snacks and comfy Helinox chairs, she packed the draws, and we even extended our trip to get the maximum climbing experience. Since we were on a remote island, one of 118 in the islands of Tahiti, we had very little contact with the outside world and she could barely post one social media update a day. We climbed, bolted new routes, and talked; she called it her best trip.

I brought up my journal from the visit, which reads:

Sunrise, February 27. The pink skies have lifted, replaced by blue. It’s the first morning of our trip to Makatea. Thinking back to yesterday, many scenes come up. After flying from Tahiti to Rangiora, we taxied to matching power boats and headed toward this island. For the first hour, we paralleled one another as we traversed past a ring of atolls. Once land was out of view, we continued as storm clouds built up behind us.

My friends and Makatea locals greet us, including Tapu, his wife Nani, their daughter and his dad Julien Mai. Gone was the hand-painted COVID-19 sign I saw last time, replaced with a cheery ukulele playing Julien. Tapu filmed with a GoPro from his chest. Everyone waved to us, and I met Brette Harrington and Elliott Berhnagen, who Sasha had invited. When I talked with Brette, she told me that though we’d never met face to face, she remembered the countless times I’d called her late partner Marc Andre Leclerc for stories and that all that time, it felt like I was having a conversation with them in their living room.

A scene from Sasha climbing in Makatea is used in marketing material for her film. That makes me happy. This June, I watched a screener of Here to Climb, and it was like revisiting every conversation I’d had with her, but now it was on the big screen. The film touched on selfishness in climbing, teamwork in big wall climbing. It also included struggles with being a social media star and her body image, cyberbullying, criticisms of her ascents, safety in the mountains, the death of her team member, mentorship and influence, plus resilience and adaptation.

The film made me revisit my relationship with climbing. I thought about how selfish I’d been by focusing for decades on my goals, my redpoint successes, and my willingness to focus only on my projects. I thought about the time I’d climbed the Salathé Wall on El Cap with Mike Schneiter and watched him cry while I sat there emotionless because he missed his daughter Selah, who was back in Camp 4. We had only planned to be gone one night, and here we were on Long Ledge and looking at spending night two up there while only a few rope lengths from the top. I wanted to stay there and he wanted to push to the summit. I thought our compromise worked – I climbed with him to the top, waved goodbye and rapped back to Long Ledge as he walked out alone.

I thought about how his wife Joy later pulled me aside and told me how selfish I’d been throughout the climb and how I made it all about me. I also thought about the time later, when writing about Selah becoming the youngest person to climb El Cap, and the tears of joy I experienced when they’d call me from the dressing room while in makeup before going on TV in front of millions. Mike’s my favorite climbing partner and I’m thankful for him and Joy to help me become aware of my shortcomings that were getting in the way of our friendship. I’m so glad they gave me criticism, time to reflect, and accepted my sincere apologies for not considering their feelings.

Here to Climb is Sasha’s story but watching it, I had all the feels. I connected with each scene in my own way. The 119-minute film by Red Bull Media House that debuted on June 18, now streaming on HBO Max, summated everything we’d discussed. Nothing was new to me, but I was proud of her for being so candid with the world. Proud of my friend’s vulnerability in front of the camera. I thought about my talks with Erik over the phone and in person at the Curry pizza deck under the shadow of Half Dome.

“It’s a vulnerable film,” she texts. “I’m nervous about people’s perception of it. It makes me so relieved that you liked it!” Sasha always uses exclamation points in her texts to show her smile, and I always type the smiling face emoticon because that’s what the late Tom Frost always did when sending me handwritten letters.

I think back to the text she sent me after our last climbs in Yosemite this past season and how truly busy she is. “We flew back from Yosemite last night because the weather looked bad until the end of the weekend,” she writes. “I sent my 5.14 mini project today before my flight out tomorrow! It’s easy to say that Yosemite grades are hard, but get you fit!

“Been almost three weeks on the road, and I have a day of meetings,” she adds when describing her film tour and busy schedule. More than a pro athlete, Sasha is also the founder of her nutrition bar company Send Bars, her film company Female Focused Adventures, and is a pro-social media influencer. In the film, Cedar Wright calls her the first climber to become Insta-Famous.

She’s always on the move. Often, I’ll get messages while she’s midflight somewhere. Or she’ll message me from her home gym between sets. Other than climbing, we talk about my obsession with ugly shoes and gifting them to my friends (I bought her a pink pair), our love of dogs, and our partners.

When I ask her to tell me her story for this piece, she points out her partner Vian Charbonneau, who was with her as she completed the last puzzle in the film. It was as physically demanding as it was emotional as she climbed through the scene where Nolan Smythe died on El Gigante in Mexico. Her emotions moved me, and at that moment, she showed her superpower – that she could feel everything, including overwhelming sadness and fear, while persevering to get the job done. That’s where she became a world champion in my eyes.

She talked about her mom, Andrea DiGiulian, and how she belayed Sasha for hours on end without expecting anything in return. She aslo talks about directors Ricki Stern and Anne Sundberg, supervising director Fernando Villena, and her climbing partner for Pico Cao Grande on the island of São Tomé in the Gulf of Guinea, Angela VanWiemeersch. Clearly, she didn’t need the focus to be on her anymore.

Sasha’s husband is an Emmy Award-winning executive producer and director. He stars in the film and is candid and relaxed during interviews. He helps carry the audience along and gives a unique insight into Sasha’s motives and drive. He balances the film and helps show her human side.

Streaming now on a variety of online channels (Google it),“Here to Climb” is an HBO sports documentary by Red Bull Media House that chronicles professional climber Sasha Diguilian’s journey from child prodigy to champion sport climber, focusing on her groundbreaking ascents and personal struggles, including overcoming a career-threatening hip injury. Directed by Ricki Stern and Anne Sundberg, the film features breathtaking cinematography and explores themes of resilience, teamwork, and redefining success in a male-dominated sport.