Outdoor Spirit Group

John Bachar

Free solo climber John Bachar has always tried to test the boundaries of what is humanly possible, and in the process makes it all look easy. "I've always been interested in pushing those limits as far as climbing goes," says the California-based head of design at Acopa Rock Shoes, and one of the world's most celebrated free climbers and boulderers.

Bachar, 51 (the featured speaker at the Reel Rock Film Tour in Calgary last fall) thinks that ropeless free solo climbing is about as free as you can get. He began free soloing at Joshua Tree when he was 16. He and John Long were about to climb Double Cross 5.8. Bachar wanted to go get his rope - and Long wanted to solo it. "My first reaction was ‘no way,' the Californian recalls. But Long asked him how many times he would fall if he top-roped it 100 times and the answer was "Zero." And Long said, "OK, let's go."

"Something clicked in my mind," Bachar explains. "For me, that one little logical leap was enough to satisfy me enough to understand I didn't need the rope." He began soloing more, moved on to do increasingly difficult routes, and ended up quitting university to climb. He went all out to prepare himself, both physically and mentally, to climb at the highest level possible. The training regimen he put himself through included yoga, martial arts, wire walking, ballet and kung-fu – "you name it. I was obsessed. I would take bits and pieces from other disciplines if I thought they could be utilized in becoming the best climber possible. I wanted to be the best climber in the world, hands down, ever since I was 18 years old, to make up for the fact I wasn't going to be a math professor."

In the mid-1970s, Bachar soloed New Dimensions, a four-pitch 5.11a climb in Yosemite. Many people called him crazy. In criticizing free soloing, some climbers cited probability theory: that if there is even a one per cent chance of falling, one per cent of the time a free soloist is out there, he or she is going to fall. Bachar disagrees. "I felt if you are in control and there is no outside influence, you'd be able to do this safely all the time without falling."

This belief is what he based his entire system on. "It took many, many years to get to the level where I felt there was no probability of falling - that if I planned things just right, I could free solo whatever I wanted and not have an accident," he says. "It was a slow process, going out every day and battling with mental demons."

On a really good day, he explains, "you're so motivated to go climbing, those thoughts don't enter your head. But some days a little voice would say, ‘You've been doing hundreds of these climbs without ropes - maybe today is the day you might make a mistake. Today might be the day you fall.' They are very powerful thoughts."

He learned to take these thoughts as a sign that he wasn't feeling 100 per cent efficient that day, and would go do easier climbs. He developed an approach where he would always start out with something easy, tempering his system so that he was never pushing himself too far. For Bachar, it was all worth it. "I love free soloing - the feeling of it, and the amount of climbing you can do," he says, noting that without a climbing partner, you can instantly double the amount of vertical terrain you do in a day. "It's very addicting. And on top of that, the connection with the movement is greater in soloing because you're not distracted by stopping to place gear and set up belays. All you do is think about movement and climbing."

As soon as you're 20 feet off the ground, he explains, "all of a sudden something clicks inside you. You're a different person. The amount of power that you have access to is much greater than you would have in everyday life. Your whole body kicks in - it's more the instinctual side of your being. You have these other powers that are available to you."

"I think we all have that capability inside of us, and when you free solo, you can tap into that. After a while, you start realizing you can turn your analytical mind off and connect with your animal mind, your instinctual mind. When you're free soloing a tough spot or a hard section, you let your analytical side disappear and you trust your animal instincts. You can do incredible things. All of a sudden, you focus like you've never focused before. That's a really addicting part of the whole thing because in a way, you get to see who you really are on a deep level, on an animal level, that you don't get to see in everyday life. It's really comforting to get in contact with your total being. It's so involving - you don't feel alone. You feel like you're plugged into some giant universal energy system or something. The rock doesn't feel like rock - it feels like your partner."

When you're free soloing properly, he adds, you feel like it doesn't matter whether you're five feet off the ground, or 100 feet, or even 1,000 feet. "You're so comfortable with this little circle of rock around you, with the consistency of the footholds and handholds, that's all that exists. The ground is not there. There's nothing else there except this fun little section of rock you have to move across and you're thinking about how to move across it smoothly, efficiently and gracefully. If you're doing it right, it should feel like you're bouldering five feet off the ground, you're so comfortable.

"But if there's a little thought in your head saying, ‘I'm high off the ground, what if I fall?' then you're not doing it right. Even if one per cent of your mind is thinking about falling or something else, then you don't belong there."

For people who might be thinking of trying free soloing, he stresses there is one big thing to remember: "It's easy to fool other people into thinking you're solid but when you start fooling yourself, that's when you get in trouble. You've got to really be honest with yourself... And don't be afraid to back off. That's really important."

Based in Mammoth Lakes, California, Bachar enjoys climbing all kinds of rock. Owens River Gorge; the Buttermilks, a bouldering area just west of Bishop, California; and Tuolumne Meadows in Yosemite are some of his favorite haunts. As a climber, he always likes to feel that he's getting better. "Physically, I'm not capable strength-wise of doing what I used to do," he adds. "My peak years were 27 to 30 as far as pure strength goes. At the same time, you compensate for loss of strength with better technique."

As he looks back at his early climbing objective, Bachar reflects, "I don't know if I was ever the best, but I know I gave it my all, 100 per cent of what I had, and that's satisfying. That's the most important thing."

This article was written by Jacqueline Louie