When it comes to considering what it means to be a pro climber, I think, first and foremost, of those who can “send the gnar,” as Alex Honnold says. But I also think about the climbing industry as a whole. I think about questions of gatekeeping and who gets what opportunities and how a small network of mostly great people can nevertheless lead to a kind of recursive insularity from the rest of the climbing world.

It may be safe to say that I’m an “insider” when it comes to the climbing industry and community. But of course that wasn’t always the case and I still vividly remember what it was like to feel as if I were on the outside of it all.

I will never forget what it was like to pitch story ideas as a young, psyched kid only to receive the blanket replies that are technically polite but are absolutely dripping with contempt for nobodies like me. I will never forget what it was like to want so badly to go to the faraway places I saw in the mags, the otherworldly landscapes upon which any great climber invariably tests themselves, and have absolutely no conception about how one turns fantasies like those into realities. I lived in a Nissan Sentra and owned half a rack of off-label cams. How could someone like me do that? I applied for AAC grants, which I admit is an audacious move for one with no real experience, and though I didn’t really expect to win, I will also never forget the feeling of seeing, year after year, the same small group of dudes receive the same set of grants—the guys who were already in the ads in the mags, who already seemed to have it all.

That feeling of being the outsider is probably more of a pathology than a reality—or a destiny—even if it’s a fairly common emotion that many new climbers experience. Most people seem to think that making connections, forging in-roads, and getting opportunities shouldn’t be quite as hard as it is—and yet invariably it is that hard, even if no one consciously intended to design the system that way.

I think it’s good anytime someone wants to remove barriers and create opportunities for young, psyched climbers to learn and test themselves, which is why I was excited to see a new initiative from The North Face called the Athlete Development Program.

We’re offering 15-20 emerging athletes the opportunity to earn a 2-year athlete contract* which includes financial and product assistance. 

During the contract term, you will participate in a 3-month development onboarding experience, 9 months of mentorship with a current team athlete, educational sessions and the potential for additional collaboration opportunities with The North Face. Our goal is to offer resources for athletic, social and personal growth.

We are looking for driven athletes who are passionate about reaching the next level of their sport. This sense of passion should also inform their desire to reflect a more inclusive outdoor community. With that goal in mind, we encourage athletes from communities that are historically excluded or marginalized to apply.

A number of climbing brands have also launched mentorship-style spots to young athletes—but this one from The North Face, the company that essentially established the bar for professional climbing as an actual profession, seems particularly sweet.

I’ll be interested to see who is accepted, and whether these kinds of initiatives can genuinely—and not just nominally—expand our notions of what it means to be a professional climber beyond just sending the gnar. It’s a noble experiment, and one that I hope is able to identify, first and foremost, the people who are truly passionate about the sport and very hungry to excel.

Click here to apply.