AMC Outdoors, July/August 2007
Bill Atkinson has conquered the Alps, cheated death in the Tetons, and completed ascents from Red Rocks to the Whites. But the climbing legend’s greatest achievement is helping others reach new heights.
Bill Atkinson had been there hundreds of times before. He stood at the base of the Easy Overhang looking up on an early fall day in September 2006. The route was nothing fancy or new, but Bill was about to do something extraordinary. His arms rested casually on his hips. His gear slung across his chest, supported by his shoulders and his small, fit frame. He joked and smiled, content with his situation. He was in New York’s Shawangunks with friend and climbing partner Wes Grace and a handful of other AMC climbers, preparing to begin his ascent.
At 81, Bill was making his way back up the first rock climbing route he’d ever attempted—50 years later almost to the day. He was adding a new peak to his long and impressive list. Not another high-elevation climb in the Tetons or British Columbia or the Alps. But a lifetime pinnacle marker.
Bill moved up the rock more slowly but with more experience than he did at 31. He still believed every word of his favorite T-shirt slogan: “Climbing may be hard, but it’s a whole lot easier than growing up.” And aside from the gray hair, the replaced hip, and the fine lines of age, he wasn’t far removed from the smiling youth he had been in 1956—an outdoor version of James Dean in a white tee and rolled-up jeans. He reached the top of the climb to the cheers of Wes and his gathered climbing gang. Then he descended the familiar rocks and headed off with his friends to the Brauhouse to celebrate his historical repeat ascent and distinguished career with a champagne toast from his friends. It was an impressive feat—a big climb. But it was not his last.
Total solar eclipses are among the most awe-inspiring of nature’s spectacles. The moon moves gradually in front of the sun, displacing the light one sliver at a time until day is dark as night and, for a brief moment, everything seems frozen, stunned, by the unusual sight. We wait for them with anticipation. We view them with great wonder. And when they occur, we are struck by their momentary brilliance.
It’s only natural that eclipses would fascinate Bill Atkinson. He was born one week after the total eclipse on Jan. 24, 1925; he saw his first in July 1932 when his father took him out on a ferry to catch the sight; and he famously photographed the flash spectrum of one in Nantucket in March 1970. Eclipses have always moved him. His life has followed a similar trajectory—slowly, in gradual phases toward a remarkable goal. He was first an impressive climber, transferring his passion and talent to others as an instructor and mentor. Ultimately, he ascended to become a significant figure—the backbone of an entire region’s climbing community. “I climbed because I loved the idea of it,” he says. “It gave me something satisfying to do that not very many others did. It was exciting and fun, and it has taken me to many different places and allowed me to meet so many different people. I’m happy. I’ve done enough to keep me going.”
Generations of climbers have watched him with wonder. “Bill’s great gift to climbing,” says Ian Armstrong, longtime friend and climbing partner, “is his love of the sport and the way he has always been a contributor, whether as an organizer, a friend, a teacher, or a living part of the history of the sport.”
High Life, cont'd >>
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