My Mum Found Climbing at Age 60. Five Years Later, She’s Sending 5.10s.

My mum tightened her harness, took a deep breath, and placed her hands on the warm, orange quartzite. At 60 years old, she had never climbed before—but today, at Mt. Arapiles in Australia, she was giving it a go for the first time.

I was living in a van at an Arapiles campground, and my sister was living in a tent outside my van at the Arapiles campground. She’d been camping with me for a few weeks, though normally lived in the United States. My mum had flown over from New Zealand without missing a beat. She wasn’t about to miss a rare chance to spend time with both of her daughters at once, given that our permanent residences were in three totally different countries.

My mother Gayle has always been two things: 1) adventurous, and 2) firmly in the camp of “if you can’t beat em, join em.” A lifelong sailor with a love of the ocean, she was fit and active but had never tried climbing. But she gamely ascended the awkward 5.3 corner on Camelot on top rope.

It seemed like mum had had fun up there, but more in the way that somebody might enjoy, say, bowling than as in the ardent fervor of a newfound rock warrior. I read her totally wrong. “After that trip to Arapiles, I knew I wanted more,” my mum told me. “But no one I knew climbed. Starting out alone, on a limb, I asked myself—Can I do this?  But then I thought, ‘Why wouldn’t I?’” 

Fast-forward five years and my mum, now 65 years old, has a hangboard and a pull-up bar in the family home. She knows how to lead climb and recently sent her first 5.10c outside, on polished Mojave Desert limestone. Her living room now has a “climbing wall of fame,” filled with photos of my sister and me on routes around the world.

Mum knows how to multipitch, too. She’s followed me up old-school granite trad climbs in New Hampshire, swung leads with me on exposed aretes in New Zealand, and now dominates our family Zoom calls with questions about the merits of different grip positions. (Half crimp or full crimp? What about open-hand? When should I be pinching? You get the idea.)

Few people believe me when I say my mother started climbing at 60 and has become a diehard. To this day, I don’t know of any other people in their 60s who have not only tried climbing for the first time later in life, but taken to it like a fish to water in the way that she has.

I have witnessed climbing change my mum’s life. It’s opened her up to new friendships and community. The gym has become her new “third place”—a space outside of home and regular life where she can recharge. And it’s allowed her to find physical aspirations and a profound sense of purpose.

When I asked her recently why she climbs, Mum said something that stuck with me: “Climbing makes me forget the day to day. It gives me the here and now.” It’s such a simple idea, but for her—and maybe for many climbers—that sense of presence can be life-changing.

Retirement, I’m told, can be challenging. Some folks thrive with the extra time; others feel lonely, bored, or even useless. Retirees are encouraged to keep their brains and bodies active: lawn games, crosswords, bridge, golf. “Not for me, not yet. Maybe when I’m old,” says Mum. Climbing—dare I say it—came at just the right time for her.

So what makes her story unique? Was it a perfect alignment of personality and opportunity? A latent passion waiting to be unlocked? Her lifetime of tenacity?  Her inherent comfort at height? Or is there, perhaps, a climbing gene? “I climbed everything as a child,” Mum told me once, laughing. “I broke my arm climbing a tree when I was eight. At 15, I sat my first major school exam on a pile of cushions—because I’d fallen scrambling cliffs at the beach the day before.”

One thing that certainly helped was finding her people. Mum was initially hesitant to enter the climbing gym, worried she’d be the oldest person there. “I was apprehensive that when I walked into the gym, people would wonder why I was there,” she told me. “One time the young man behind the desk asked me which child I was there to pick up. I told him I was there to climb. We laughed about it, but you don’t forget things like that.” 

On her behalf, I reached out to a Facebook group called “Friendly Climbers.” That led her to a group of partners her age-ish who climb during weekdays—those connections made all the difference.

Mindset has been something that mum’s had to work on. Fortunately, that’s something I can help her with, even from the other side of the world. I field her calls where she airs her anxieties: I’m old, so it’s so much harder to get strong and put on muscle. I’m old, so recovering from injury takes a lot longer. You know, you lose 1% of bone density per year after the age of 60. 

All of this is very true: It is harder. But there’s a big difference between hard and impossible. A consistent training schedule, adequate rest, and a protein-rich diet have kept her progressing. But more resources on supporting older bodies in climbing would make things easier. There are many podcasts, books, and web articles out there about climbing training, recovery, and nutrition, but very few, if any, are targeted at older women. Mum has generally felt that climbing nutrition advice isn’t for her. And that seems fair: the dietary needs of a testosterone-fueled young man and those of a postmenopausal woman are probably very different.

As far as actually climbing with my mum goes, it’s safe to say that it hasn’t always been smooth sailing. That makes sense: the very nature of a parent-child relationship—even if the child is a fully grown adult—isn’t exactly conducive to sending the gnar. Or, it’s probably something that requires a lot of patience and practice.

I can imagine how hard it must be to see your offspring get scared above a bolt on a rock climb. And I can imagine how much harder it is when you’re on the other end of the rope, witnessing it all firsthand and actively involved in their safety.

Your immediate instinct must be to protect them … how do you balance reacting to their distress and creating a space where they can push themselves, knowing that you believe in them? My mum’s parental instincts can sometimes clash with the calm reassurance that I want and need in challenging moments.

Me: I’m a bit worried about the ledge below—am I safe?

Mum: Well, there are no guarantees, so you’d better come down.

Me: Watch me here!

Mum: I am watching! I’m always watching! Why would I not be watching?

I’ve learned by now that mum is not my belayer of choice for hard projecting. And that’s okay: There’s a whole world of incredible climbs we can tackle together.

I find myself worrying about her, too. She’s so focused on improvement that I sometimes worry she under-fuels or skips proper recovery. And for her, fuelling and rest aren’t just important—they’re essential to staying healthy and avoiding injury. Her body doesn’t bounce back the way it might have when she was younger, and I want her to have the strength and energy to keep enjoying climbing for as long as she wants to.

My mother’s progress has made me wonder why we aren’t doing more to include older people in climbing. The sport is increasingly welcoming to women, LGBTQ+ folks, and people of color, but retirees are very much overlooked. Do we assume they can’t climb? That they don’t want to? Or are we so worried about the risk of injury that we don’t give them the opportunity to try?

Maybe older people are less physically fit—although the number of ripped fitness-class-attending ladies in their mid-50s at the local gym immediately pokes holes in that theory. Older people have so much to gain from the sport. If only the barrier to entry were a little lower.

Aside from the mental and societal benefits mentioned earlier, climbing can offer older people real physical health improvements. My mum’s story is a great example of how climbing can help prevent the frailty we often associate with aging. A routine bone density scan at age 60 showed mild osteopenia in my mum’s hip. This is unfortunately a common occurrence in postmenopausal women, and a precursor to one of the biggest causes of lost independence in older folk: the hip fracture.

Five years later, now 65 years old and an avid climber, mum has seen her bone density increase by six points. That’s a similar response to what might have been expected had she been put on medication for osteopenia at 60. But there were no drugs: just climbing, and the impact of this regular, weight-bearing exercise.

Beyond the physical, though, climbing has created something even more meaningful: connection. Mum has always encouraged both me and my sister to explore the world, test our boundaries, and discover what we are made of. Little did she know this would result in both her daughters living half a world away from her, in reach via tech, but not touch. I know she has moments of sadness because of this, but climbing has given her the opportunity to combat this geographical isolation. We both receive videos accompanied by requests for beta, we talk of family climbing trips in other countries, we discuss movement techniques. She feels connected, credible, and relevant.

Sure, climbing comes with risk. But it also builds bone density, balance, and fine motor skills—all critical for healthy aging. Isn’t it better to create a welcoming space and let individuals assess the risk for themselves? Climbing isn’t for every older person: it’s true. But it’s not for every younger person either. And that doesn’t stop us from pestering our friends to try it out.

So here’s my challenge to you: Bring your parents and your older friends to the crag. Tell them they can do it. Make them feel welcome. Implore upon them just how cool everybody will perceive them to be. Older people seem to think they’ll be criticized, which makes sense. But in reality—at least in my experience—they’re much more likely to be applauded. My mum is a freaking badass. Yours could be, too.

We’ll all be old one day. Our lives will no longer revolve around the work week. And I’ll surely complain about the ravages of aging. But I hope to still be out there at the crag. If I’m very lucky, I’ll still be swinging leads with my mum. It’s been an absolute privilege to watch her fall in love with climbing, and a beacon of how I want to age. Adventure is a game for all ages, and I’m so glad that I get to play it with my mum.

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