Jimmy Chin is possibly the world’s most accomplished climbing photographer. He’s shot National Geographic covers with Alex Honnold, he’s climbed Meru with Conrad Anker and Renan Ozturk, making an award-winning documentary as he went, and won an Academy Award for Free Solo, the film about Alex Honnold’s once-in-a-lifetime free solo climb of El Capitan in Yosemite. And then there’s Jared Leto, star of Blade Runner 2049, Fight Club, Academy Award winner for Dallas Buyers Club, and lead singer

The lip of the top-out is a single move away. The climber reaches behind his back and dips his clammy right hand into the chalk bag. His movements are slow and precise. Each point of contact feels so tenuous, so interdependent that even the slightest readjustment could break the spell. He carefully replaces the hand. The hold is no wider than a couple of matchsticks. Less than half the top pad of his fingertips. He positions one finger at a time, laying the next on top of the last, finally

In a move that has surprised some, Gucci and The North Face – brands that share similar history and values – have joined forces, and Sidetracked worked with them both to understand more about this unique collaboration. It’s about challenging expectations and celebrating the spirit of discovery. To learn about the collaboration, we worked with renowned mountain photographer and filmmaker Jimmy Chin, who has been with The North Face for 20 years, and his friend the legendary actor and musicia

20.00hrs: Altitude 6300m. We’d had a hard day climbing. The altitude drew on us, making breathing a struggle and our movements lethargic. Our bodies were slow to come to terms with the sheer physical effort and the precious few calories. Until that afternoon, we’d been exceptionally lucky with the weather, but at 16.00, all that changed. The clouds bubbled up around us and static built in the air. Our hairs stood on end and we all knew an electrical storm was imminent. I’ve been through seve

The walkway to a different planet is 170m long and 100m high. At its feet lies a milky turquoise lake, quietly feeding a creek that only seconds later turns into a wild river underneath this walkway, known as the Triftbrücke. This ropeway seems to lead into a different world. Back in the old days, mountaineers could make their way past the valley by crossing the giant Trift Glacier. But as the ice stream retracted, the lake and river rose, making the gorge impassable. Today, the Triftbrücke

There’s this moment when a 4.30am wake-up call turns into magic. When your boots break trail through misty grass, obligingly following the spotlight of your head torch. With every step, nature wakes from the dark a bit more. At this moment, it seems as if the mountains will stretch towards the sky, just as we did to the ceilings of our bunk beds at the Alpine hut only two hours ago. But, instead, the peaks are reaching towards the hazy pastel colours that only a sunrise can paint on the hori

I watched Akira throw powerful strokes. In other circumstances, each muscular thrust would have powered him forward through the water, but here he was helpless against the swirling, frothing mass of white and blue. He seemed to relent, perhaps realising he wouldn’t reach the other side, and allowed the current to whip him around the bowl like a spider caught in the drag of a plughole. The water roiled and foamed, pure white with aeration and more like milk boiling in some arcane cauldron tha

I breathe heavily as we race up the rock, and throw my hands and feet down wherever they land – there’s no time to choose specific holds. I propel my body upwards, chasing the tug of the rope, chasing Jacob, who charges on above me. I know how Jacob is feeling. He’s ecstatic to be moving over rock; the comfortable familiarity of the granite masks all fears of the unpredictable melting landscape as we leave it further and further below us. He climbs 60m, plugs a crack with a camming device to

It’s deflating to watch a film I had loved years earlier only to find it doesn’t stand the test of time. I was relieved to see the 1996 cult classic Twister retained every bit of its vim and power, probably due to the performances of the late Bill Paxton and the always-fantastic Helen Hunt, and Jan de Bont’s intense, suspenseful direction. In the lead up to my first storm-chasing experience through the American Midwest with Australian photographer Nick Moir, aside from watching a technical i

For its size, Ecuador is the most biodiverse country on the planet, but beyond its wild jungles and gargantuan volcanoes, beyond the Pacific swell and the colonial charm, are its people, a kaleidoscope of culture that shines as brightly as any of its skies. In Ecuador there is much to revere. From colonial city streets to the cloud forests, between volcanic basins and into humid jungles, to its crashin

The drum pounds in my ears. My heart is beating faster than a hummingbird’s. Sweat pours off my body onto the blankets under me. My mind and body want to run, telling me to get out, that I need to escape this heat and the drumming. I lie down and curl into a ball on the ground, listening to the soothing singing of the elder who leads this Indigenous ceremony. I can’t see any of my companions in the darkness; I hope they are not suffering like myself. The beating of the drums slowly starts t

Ignorance is bliss – until you see what’s waiting on the other side. For years, I’ve watched rolling warriors whiz past me on their bikes while out on morning runs, walking in town, or enjoying a lazy afternoon pitstop, but never once did I think, ‘Yeah, that looks fun.’ The rebranding of bicycle touring to bikepacking is genius. No longer is a cross-country trip on a bike just for weird bearded humans with questionable hygiene who battle the roads and chase cycle paths, bouncing between c

As I cross the railway bridge and glance towards the mountains, my fears are confirmed. Where the vast bulk of the Cairngorms should lie, instead I see only a grey wall of cloud. Forecasts of fog and rain have proven to be accurate, and with gusts hitting up to 50mph on the summits my original plan – a journey onto the plateau, before a camp by a high mountain loch – appears to be dashed. As I scour the map and talk myself into a new journey, my initial disappointment turns to hope, then exc

The sound of the anchor startled me awake. Less than a metre from my head, through the paper-thin cabin walls, I could hear the motor straining as the heavy chain rattled deafeningly upward. I glanced blearily at my watch – 6.00am. It was a good two hours before we were due to set sail. Gusty katabatic winds rushing down from the mountains had caused us to drag anchor on several occasions the previous night. I pictured Captain Oli in the wheelhouse and Laki on deck above me, stoically going

I’m sipping a Wanderlust IPA at the Breakside Brewery, Northeast Portland, with Adam Lazenby. Adam is the Design Engineer at nearby Leatherman HQ, and he’s recounting a tale of building his first sit-back recumbent bike, perhaps aptly named Eneptitude (note the ironic spelling). As a dedicated cyclist and bike commuter, Adam was frustrated by the prevailing, and sometimes torturous, headwinds that he regularly encountered on his route to work. One day, while staring up at the ceiling of his

Food connects us. In each of our family stories, it is the meal round the table that brings the family together, symbolising the connection we share with each other and providing an opportunity for reflection on the day’s adventures. Over many heaving tables at the various guesthouses on the Georgian arm of the Transcaucasian Trail, mealtime offered a traditional depiction of rural family life, a culture that had poignant tones of nostalgia and celebration of a life surrounded by strong, pro

If I could never tell anyone about this trip, never publish anything about my experience or share any of my photos, would I still put myself through this? The question floated to the surface of my thoughts as I concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other and avoiding the enormous drop a few inches to my right. Time to admit it: I’d been on the trail for 10 days, long enough for the initial enthusiasm and novelty to wear off, and I was having a low moment. The backs of my calves hu

Anybody who has crossed a land border into western China knows that it’s a long-winded and tense affair. Body scans, searches, questions, and lots of waiting. After four hours I was relieved to hear the echo around the empty arrivals area of the final stamp being punched into my passport and see a soldier gesturing me towards the exit. After crossing the Pamir mountains, this was my start of the Karakoram Highway – the section of my London to Hong Kong cycle I had been most looking forward t

‘No tienes miedo?’ Aren’t you afraid? The growing crowd of cholitas falls silent, waiting for my answer. I get asked this question in every pueblo, these small Aymara or Quechua communities, isolated in the highest regions of the remote Bolivian Andes. I shrug, smile, and say ‘Si, un poco’. Yes, a little. The truth is, I’m not a little afraid. I’m very afraid. Fourteen days ago, in a small town near the Peruvian border, I stood at the start line, the base of the Bolivian Andes, sheltering f

Katie Visco ran 2,210 miles over 119 days from the northern coast in Darwin to Adelaide, through the Tanami, Central, and Simpson deserts, with bicycle support from her husband, Henley. The desert wants you dead. There is space without bounds here, but there is no place to live. No shelter or shade above your shins, no water to slake a thirst. Unless you can hunt the kangaroo, the bilby, or the bush turkey, you’ve nothing to eat. What resources exist are reserved for those few creatures who