20 Years of Gripped and Getting Benighted

Gripped is a magazine for climbers everywhere and is celebrating 20 years of being in print this year. Its core climbing content has included cutting-edge new routes in the alpine, on boulders and at the crag. David Smart and Sam Cohen started the publication in 1999 and since then, we’ve covered stories from around the world. Gripped has had thousands of contributors from every walk of life, with climbing being the common thread. The sport of climbing has changed a lot since the late 1990s and there are more climbers than ever, which is why we’re looking forward to the next 20 years of stories, development, competitions and more.

In the first issue of Gripped in 1999, the term gripped was described as “a colloquialism in climbing meaning in a state of fear.” We’ve all been gripped, sometimes while leading a run-out pitch, sometimes while descending down a sketchy slope at night and sometimes during the middle of the night while sleeping on a tiny ledge which is also known as being “benighted.” It means that you got stuck on a climb for a night when you were planning on finishing it in one day. It likely means that you were underprepared, didn’t bring a headlamp or bivy gear and ran out of food and water. The result can be a very cold night spent on a climb or descent. I’ve been benighted many times. Nearly 10 years ago, my friend Matt wanted to go for a climb on a cold Sunday. I suggested the East Ridge of Temple, a classic 1,500-metre alpine route above Moraine Lake in the Valley of the Ten Peaks. Matt and I made quick time up the lower ridge and climbed through the Big Step. It was spring and as we climbed higher, deeper snow slowed us down. We were on track to make it to the summit and back down by midnight. We had no bivy gear, limited food, limited layers and not much water. We had two headlamps. At the base of the Black Towers, big clouds began to drop from the west. As I was looking for the right gully to access the upper ridge, the snow started to fall. Things went from casual to serious in a matter of minutes. I hardly knew I was on the ridge when I reached it. I got lucky. Matt joined me, and I post-holed along the long ridge in sideways snow and dropping temps. Soon, the sun dropped and our headlamps illuminated nothing but falling snow, like headlights on a highway in a blizzard. After what seemed like hours, I found a big rock. We were cold and gripped. We couldn’t see where we were or which way the descent went, so we opted to sleep under a rock. In the morning, we made our way off the mountain. Here’s to 20 more years of Gripped magazine and 20 more years of gripping stories.