Am 31. Januar 2025, um 08.00 Uhr stand der Belgier Seb Berthe nach erfolgreicher Begehung der Dawn Wall am Ausstieg der Route. Er ist die erst vierte Person, die die schwierigste Mehrseillängenroute der Welt frei klettern konnte. In diesem Artikel veröffentlichen wir einen ausführlichen, persönlichen Bericht von Seb Berthe über die Zeit in der Wand (Englisch).
Viel Tränen und Blut sind geflossen, unzählige Sessions ins Ausbouldern von Schlüsselsequenzen investiert und tausende Meter gejumart. 14 Tage verbrachte Seb Berthe bei seinem zweiten Yosemite-Trip in der Wand, bis ihm am 31. Januar 2025 der Durchstieg der schwierigsten Mehrseillängenroute der Welt, Dawn Wall, gelang.
Berthe fiel 2022 an der letzten Crux der Schlüssellänge
Seb Berthe versuchte Dawn Wall bereits 2022, damals in Begleitung von seinem Landsmann Siebe Vanhee. Die beide verbrachten damals 23 Tage in der Wand, 16 Tage davon investierte Berthe in die 9a-Schlüssel-Seillänge.
Nach 23 Tagen in der Wand und 16 Tage davon in der 14. Seillänge musste ich die Niederlage akzeptieren.
Seb Berthe
Seb Berthe und Siebe Vanhee mussten damals unverrichteter Dinge wieder zurück nach Europa reisen. Doch es war klar, Berthe kommt zurück. In einem Gespräch im Juni 2024 verriet uns der Belgier, dass er bald wieder mit dem Segelboot den Atlantik überqueren wird, um einen neuen Anlauf zu nehmen.
Erlebnisbericht von Seb Berthe über die Begehung der Dawn Wall (El Capitan, Yosemite Valley)
As I write these lines, five days after returning to the Yosemite Valley, the soreness, the pain in my hands and feet are still very much present. I must say that for the past five days, I have been savoring these pains, which bear witness to the great battle fought on the wall for two weeks.
The most intense night and two weeks of my life ended on the morning of Friday, January 31st. Soline Kentzel and I made it out just in time before the rain (a full week of rain, which would have soaked the final pitches and likely made them unclimbable for quite a while), after an entire night of climbing to complete the last 12 pitches, with all my fingers and feet bloody.
Several times over the past week, for different reasons, the adventure almost came to an end, and the final hours were so painful that I sincerely believe I came face-to-face with my physical and mental limits for the first time.
It was so close… It could have gone either way.
I climbed my very best in those last days, and I fought hard. At the end of this journey and these 14 days on the Dawn Wall: a dream, an incredible achievement, and a major milestone in my climbing life, of which I am more than proud!
Getting There and Preparation
On September 10, 2024, the boat—a large catamaran—carrying us to America set sail on the Mediterranean. We left France and Europe for several months, at least. What a joy! We were off on another long adventure, two years after our first trans- and overseas journey Captains on El Cap (a 10-month adventure in which, along with seven friends, we deliberately boycotted air travel and crossed the Atlantic by sailboat to climb in Yosemite).
Soline Kentzel, Mathieu Miquel, Aidan Roberts, Guillaume Lion, and I managed to get on board a sailboat built in France that was being delivered to Tahiti in the South Pacific for charter. Though we had mixed feelings about it, our intent remained unchanged: to reach America and Yosemite while boycotting air travel for clear ecological and social justice reasons. The details of our travel methods and our contradictions can be found in our Instagram posts, an article written by Soline on Grimper web, or Aidan Roberts‘ Substack page. Here is also the first episode of a vlog serie about training on the boat made by Soline. For me personally, the sporting goal of this second journey was clear: to return to the legendary Dawn Wall and try to complete the process after my first attempt two years earlier (you can read about it on www.lacrux.com).
We built a training structure on the boat, trained our fingers and toes, and underwent intense general physical preparation. I had the Dawn Wall on my mind throughout the crossing, and we did everything possible to arrive in top shape on the American continent. It was a huge challenge, even though our experience from the first journey helped!
Gibraltar ⇒ Canary Islands ⇒ Cape Verde ⇒ Martinique ⇒ Panama!
Fifty days after leaving France, we finally set foot on the American continent (see my Instagram post). This was already a great achievement for the whole team, but there was still a long way to go: we had to travel across Central America and Mexico using public transport. Off we went on three incredible weeks of bus travel. We explored breathtaking countries and cultures, climbed whenever possible, and kept training.
At the end of November, Soline and I finally arrived in the long-awaited Yosemite Valley after nearly two and a half months of travel and countless adventures. We were super motivated and not in bad shape for people who had just completed such a journey.
In the valley, I was expected by Connor Herson—a young American prodigy, incredibly inspiring, cheerful, and down-to-earth—who was sending everything in this part of the world. His tick list over the past few years is impressive; he has crushed most trad and big-wall routes.
He was extremely psyched to take on the Dawn Wall with me. It was an honor and a privilege to have such a partner for this route. Doing it alone would have been incredibly difficult. On my very first day in the valley, we launched into the climb. The plan was to go up for a day, try a few pitches, and return to the valley by evening. Although I was a bit tired from the trip, I followed Connor’s lead and got straight into it—pitch after pitch, we fixed ropes, I refined my beta, and rediscovered the moves.
After a few days of intense effort, following a rhythm of „two climbing days, one rest day,“ we reached pitch 14—the first 5.14d/9a of the route. This is the crux for me and for most people (and where I had failed two years ago).
The search for solutions to overcome these pitches haunted me day and night: Which climbing shoes should I use? How should I position myself for certain moves? How should I manage my skin? What strategy should I adopt for a push? How could I memorize every piece of protection, every handhold, every foothold?
As the sessions progressed, things started falling into place. I was feeling great on the crux moves (I finally managed to execute the last crux of pitch 14, which had stopped me last time).
For three to four long weeks (a total of 15 work sessions on the route for me this season), we ascended hundreds of meters on fixed lines, hauled bags, worked the crux pitches, and set up ropes… The Dawn Wall hadn’t changed—it was still an enormous undertaking, and everything about this process was hard: the climbing, the freezing winter temperatures mixed with the heat and sun exposure of this south-facing wall, the constant exposure, the unstable protection, the falling ice…
After a month in the valley, I felt completely exhausted. My fitness level had dropped significantly. The same went for Connor, who had to return to his engineering studies in early January. So, we decided to take a real break from the route towards the end of December. I spent a week bouldering in Bishop and took nearly two weeks of complete rest.
To be honest, at that point, I didn’t feel entirely ready for a push attempt (a continuous ascent from the ground). Although I had successfully done almost all the hard sections, I felt I still had work to do—especially on the post-crux pitches. I was missing crucial information, beta, and sensations.
However, an opportunity for a push attempt seemed to be arising: an exceptionally dry weather window for January was forecasted, and Soline Kentzel offered to support and belay me for the push (she had time since she didn’t have a climbing partner in the valley). The more I thought about it, the more I realized that despite my preparation not being optimal or fully complete, this was an opportunity I couldn’t pass up. Even if the attempt failed, I could always try again later in the spring, and a push attempt would be the best possible preparation for one day sending the Dawn Wall.
Alright, decision made! I would go for a push, aiming for mid-January.
After much thought and hesitation, I had to get logistically prepared for this push attempt.
On January 12, I embarked on a solo mission to haul water, food, and gear for two people, enough for two full weeks of self-sufficiency—up to our portaledge camp 400 meters off the ground. In total, about 130 kg of gear! This mission took an entire day and drained all my energy (as my solo hauling system wasn’t quite perfected yet).
Unfortunately, that hauling day slightly injured my lower back, and in the days that followed, I had intense lumbar pain with every movement… It took me four full rest days before I could even think about climbing again.
The PUSH
My push lasted 14 days (including 5 rest days), during which I climbed all the pitches of the Dawn Wall (32 pitches, including 19 above 5.13a/7c+), in the right order and leading every pitch, placing the gears (except for aid gear that requires a hammer, like birdbeaks, and the rivet hangers) and using pre-placed quickdraws when bolts were present. I did not descend to the ground and was not resupplied with food or water.
On Friday, January 17, at 5 a.m., I set off to climb the first pitches of the Dawn Wall, accompanied by French climber Soline Kentzel for belay and support, and Alex Eggermont behind the camera.
Day 1: Pitches 1 to 6, and two attempts on pitch 7 (falling on the last move)
Departure at 5 a.m. I feel quite stressed but also motivated and excited! Climbing in the morning up to pitch 5 (I send the long and demanding pitch 3, a solid. 5.13c/8a+, on my second attempt after an unfortunate slip just below the anchor on my first go). A 2-3 hour break on the ledge at the base of pitch 6. I send pitch 6 immediately when the shade arrives. Reworking and ticking pitch 7, a slippery, technical, and unpredictable 5.14a/8b+.
I give it a try just before nightfall: I pass the crux and all the hard sections, but I forget to clip several pieces of protection, including the last bolt at the end of the difficulties. Now, I’m well above my last piece, a rusty birdbeak, and I feel exhausted.
Falling here is not an option (it would mean a nearly 20-meter fall and possibly ripping out my gear). I’m completely at my limit. The risk is too high—especially with my back injury starting to hurt again—so, reluctantly, I grab the quickdraw. Phew, I’m safe, but that was a huge adrenaline rush. An intense way to end this first day. It’s dark, I’ll try again tomorrow.
Day 2: Pitches 7 – 8 – 9
I wait for the shade to start climbing. At 2:30 p.m., I try pitch 7 again. I pass the crux quite easily, but my fingers and toes are getting tired in the final section, and I have to fight hard to reach the anchor! Yes, the first 5.14 is done 🙂 Only 6 more to go, haha!
Next is a short, bouldery 5.13d/8b on bolts, a technical and finger-intensive challenge. First try, I slip. Second try, I pop off with my hand. Third try, my heel slips. Fourth try, I use the wrong beta… Oof, this is getting long and tough.
Luckily, I finally figure out the best method for me and send it on my next go (5th or 6th try). By now, it’s dark, but I need to keep going to reach pitch 9. I put on my headlamp and launch into the slightly physical 5.13c/8a+ traverse. I reach the anchor quickly and smoothly.
Day 3: Rest at the portaledge camp
After two intense days, I decide to take a rest day, as the upcoming pitches are particularly hard and demanding. The goal is to take care of my skin, eat and hydrate well, and stay in the shade as much as possible (I use my sleeping bag as a sunshade above my portaledge).
Day 4: Pitches 10 – 11 – 12 – 13
This day is crucial for the rest of the ascent. I feel like I need to send these pitches quickly without using too much energy. After warming up and placing gear in pitch 10 (5.14a/b – 8b+/8c), I send it on my first try with a solid fight in the crux. I climb pitch 11 immediately afterward at dusk. After a 30-minute break, I also send pitch 12 (5.14b – 8c) on my first go. Pitch 13 (5.13b – 8a) also goes down on my first try after some minor reworking.
The session went perfectly—now I’m at the base of THE crux pitch 14! I’m so fired up and full of adrenaline that I consider trying it that night.
Day 5: Rest before attempting the crux pitch tomorrow
I don’t feel particularly tired, but it’s important to be as fresh as possible for the upcoming crux pitch.
Day 6: Pitch 14 (5.14d – 9a)
The conditions are warm for January, and I know temperature is a key factor for success on this triple-crux pitch. So, I decide to start climbing at 5 a.m., before sunrise and before the sun hits the wall. At 5:30, I take a first working burn to dial in the moves and refresh the chalk marks (without them, the holds might as well not exist…). I feel great.
First redpoint attempt: I fly through the pitch, everything feels easy, and within minutes, I’m at the final crux—it’s happening! I go for the big move left, but just as I reach for the last holds… I slip.
A scream of frustration tears through me.
I take 20 minutes to refocus and try again before the sun arrives. Second attempt—same thing: I feel amazing, I get to the final crux, then slip again.
The sun is here, and it’s over for today…
I feel so close, yet I have the sinking feeling that I might keep slipping over and over. Back at the portaledge, another issue arises—my back is in excruciating pain.
Days 7 and 8: Rest
I had planned to climb the next day, but as soon as I wake up, I know it’s not happening. My back hurts too much. I start doubting whether I can finish this push. Slowly, with gentle stretching, the pain eases—though not completely.
Day 9: Pitch 14
When I wake up, my back feels better—not healed, but manageable with ibuprofen. It’s a cold, cloudy day—perfect conditions. I warm up by reworking the final crux to figure out why I kept slipping. I think I’ve found a solution—it’s all about foot positioning.
First try: I slip at crux 2. Attempts 2, 3, and 4: I slip at crux 1. My back hurts. My toes are freezing in my tight shoes, and I struggle to keep them warm. Thankfully, Soline, the ultimate belayer, warms them up against her body between tries. Attempt 5: I pass crux 1 but fall at crux 2. Attempts 6, 7, 8, and 9: I slip again at crux 1.
I start to despair.
It’s 4:30 p.m., and a snowstorm is coming at 5. One last try. I convince myself I can do it. Attempt 10. It’s not my smoothest go, but I stick crux 1, then crux 2. As I reach the final rest before crux 3… it starts snowing.My shoes and fingers are getting wet. It feels hopeless. But I have nothing to lose. I go for it. Somehow, I stick the big move. My foot stays in place. I reach for the final jug—I’m still on the wall… YES! I sent pitch 14, in the snow!
Pure euphoria.
Back at the portaledge, the snowstorm rages, but I’m ecstatic.
Day 10: Pitch 15
Despite yesterday’s long day, I’m getting ready to climb—I’m obviously super motivated. Because of the excitement, I didn’t sleep at all last night. My back still hurts, but yesterday’s session didn’t make it worse.
The day is cloudy, conditions are perfect.
Pitch 15 is the second major challenge of the Dawn Wall after Pitch 14. This is where Kevin Jorgeson got stuck during the first ascent in 2015. The pitch is rated 5.14c/d – 8c+/9a. I would personally say more like 8c+, but a very technical and finger-intensive one. A long approach around 5.13d – 8b, followed by a precise boulder move requiring extreme foot and finger control.
First, I do a beta-checking go to mark holds with chalk. Then it’s go time. I feel very strong on my first attempt and quickly reach the final crux. I feel like I can do it, and then—“Shit!”— I slip, out of nowhere.
Back to the previous belay, 20 minutes of rest. Second attempt: I make a mistake and slip at the start.
Damn. In my head, I start doubting, thinking I’ll keep slipping again and again like on Pitch 14.
But I manage to pull myself together and focus on what I have to do, not on the result. On my next attempt—I send it! I squeeze my fingers harder than necessary in the crux, stay focused on the final moves, and it works! Yes!!! It’s starting to feel real now—I’m stoked!
There’s still daylight left, and I think I have some energy left, so I go straight for Pitch 16, the Loop Pitch (an alternative to the famous dyno, rated 5.14a – 8b+). Probably the most unique pitch on the Dawn Wall: it involves downclimbing for about 20 meters to a small ledge, an easy traverse left, and then a demanding endurance climb back up (slippery and technical layback).
I haven’t rehearsed these pitches as much as the previous ones. From the start, I knew I wasn’t fully prepared for them. I spend 45 minutes refining the beta. Then I give it a go but I fall on the downclimbing boulder problem, which I’m struggling to master. It feels super weird to have to fight so hard while climbing down.
Lack of strategy: I keep trying over and over without success, until two of my fingers start bleeding. My skin is completely wrecked.
Day 11: Rest
I hadn’t planned on taking a rest day, but I have to face reality: the past two days have exhausted me, and my skin is in bad shape. The smartest move is to rest, even though I just want to push for the summit. On the bright side, my back is stabilizing. The last two climbing days haven’t made it worse.
Day 12: Pitch 16
A tough day ahead. Bad news in the morning: the weather forecast shows only three days of good conditions before a week-long storm.
I absolutely have to finish the route before the rain, otherwise, the upper pitches will likely be wet and unclimbable.
I feel extremely stressed. This isn’t the smooth push to the top I had hoped for. Plus, I’m unsure if I can send these last hard pitches quickly enough since I didn’t rehearse them well.
I start early. My goal: send Pitch 16 and 17 today (critical if I want to finish in three days before the rain).
I feel strong, but I keep falling on the downclimb. Every time, a tiny mistake throws me off balance. The sun hits the wall, and I still haven’t made it past the way down.
I decide to give it one last try before waiting for shade, and phew, I make it through, but barely. I reach the small ledge at the bottom, a perfect resting spot where I can even take off my shoes. But I don’t stay long, the sun is now blazing, and I need to finish before it gets too hot.
I climb well, pass the crux, but slip at the very last section.
At this point, I have to make a tough decision: if I want to finish the Dawn Wall before the rain, I must keep moving. So, I decide to bend my ethics a little. Instead of redoing the full descent, I start from the ledge—effectively splitting the Loop Pitch into two pitches (probably turning it into two 5.13d routes instead of a 5.14a). I rest for 10 minutes, then go again. A few minutes later, I reach the belay. Loop Pitch is in the bag! I really don’t feel great about this style compromise, but it makes some sense: the ledge at the bottom of the Loop Pitch is probably the best rest spot in the last 10 pitches.
I take a few hours to rest before attacking Pitch 17—the last 5.14a of the route. That afternoon, I feel awful—nauseous, headache. Sunstroke? Stress? When the shade arrives, I try my first attempts. I quickly get past the first boulder problem and into the final section—a brutal layback sequence with about ten moves. This pitch is spicy, mostly on aid gears. On my first try, I rip out a piece, but thankfully, the birdbeak below holds me. Attempts 2, 3, and 4: I fall at the very end, just two moves from the send. By now, it’s completely dark, and I have four fingers bleeding (the others aren’t much better). I give up for tonight and return to the portaledge, feeling crushed. I gave everything, but it didn’t work.
Now, finishing before the rain seems nearly impossible—and my physical and emotional state is a mess.
Day 13: Pitches 17 – 18 – 19 – 20
The weather forecast worsens: I have only two days and one night left to climb the remaining five hard pitches and eleven easier ones. I feel cornered, completely under pressure. I’m already making backup plans: if I can’t finish, maybe I’ll stay in my portaledge through the storm and hope the upper wall stays climbable. But that’s a huge gamble.
Today, Erik Sloan takes over belaying, so Soline can finally get a well-deserved rest. Chris Nathalie is still here filming and taking photos.
I start climbing in the afternoon once the shade hits. And wow, what an afternoon!
Pitch 17: Sent! Clean and smooth. Now I have six bleeding fingers.
Pitch 18 (5.13c/d – 8a+/b): Sent! I climb fast and efficiently.
Pitch 19 (5.13b – 8a): Sent after a quick beta check.
Now it’s nighttime, but I’m fully motivated. If I can send Pitch 20 (5.13c/d – 8a+/b) tonight, I’ll be in a strong position to finish on time. First attempt: I fall on a delicate balance move in the crux—the thumb press move, a sequence of microscopic inverted holds where only your thumbs work. Second attempt: I fight hard and send it! I head back to camp, full of hope. It’s not done yet—but it’s possible: I have one really tough pitch left (Pitch 21, 5.13d – 8b) and 11 easier pitches (ranging from 5.11+ – 7a to 5.13a – 7c+).
Day and Night 14: Pitch 21 → 32
For the past few nights, I haven’t been sleeping well due to stress and excitement, and this night is no exception.
Today is the big day—it’s January 30th: I’m going for the final push to the summit. The next morning, rain is expected to arrive. I take down the camp and prepare a bag with a portaledge and a fly, just in case we get stuck by the rain for a few days.
In the early afternoon, I do a warm-up on Pitch 21. As soon as the shade arrives, I go for an attempt. I’m incredibly stressed, but I’m determined. I climb well and precisely, taking my time. In the crux up high, I grip the crimps harder than necessary—I can feel my fingertips tearing under my fingers. I throw myself toward the final finger lock and mantle onto the ledge with a scream of joy! That’s it, I’ve completed all the hard pitches of the Dawn Wall. I feel incredibly happy and proud.
Unfortunately, there’s no time to celebrate: it’s 5 PM, and I still have 11 adventurous and not-so-easy pitches to climb before morning. Pitch 22 is a long, steep finger crack that I have to do twice due to a fall near the top. That pitch completely drains me. I move slowly through the next pitches, trying to recover. Navigating the route in the dark night isn’t easy (we had only climbed these pitches once before, two years ago, with Siebe Vanhee), and some sections are quite committing and intimidating. There are unprotected sections, offwidths, long traverses on hollow-sounding flakes, breaking holds, unstable pitons, and the haulbag getting stuck… We’re getting our fair share of adventure.
I start feeling terrible: I struggle to eat, I feel like vomiting, and my body is deeply tired. With each pitch, I have to fight and leave a little piece of myself behind. Soline is incredibly supportive and solid. She follows brilliantly through these terrifying traverses. At every belay, she encourages me and pushes me to keep going. She’s an exceptional support.
At 2 AM, we reach Ship Bow, Pitch 29. Four pitches remain, but I’m utterly exhausted. We decide to take a 1.5-hour break so I can recover a little. We try to eat and sleep, but I can’t do either. At 4 AM, we set off again.
I fall near the end of the 5.11d – 7a offwidth in the next pitch due to my poor offwidth technique. I retry and easily climb it in layback style. Three pitches to go. In each one, I have to fight, and at every belay, I feel like I might faint or throw up.
Dawn breaks during the second-to-last pitch; it’s cloudy, but it hasn’t started raining yet. Chris Nathalie is waiting at the summit to document the final meters. Pitch 31, a 5.13a-7c+ followed by a 5.12a-7a dihedral full of grass, gives me another challenge. I climb the final pitch (Pitch 32, 5.12b – 7b) quickly, in a daze. I mantle onto the summit at 8 AM. Victory!
We’ve just lived through an intense and unforgettable night. It’s a strange feeling… Due to exhaustion, I don’t fully grasp that it’s over, that the Dawn Wall is behind me. It will take me a few hours, or maybe more, to truly understand and appreciate it.
Before descending, we take a moment to soak it in and snap some photos, including one with the sign we carried throughout the climb, bearing a particularly important message in these times: “El Cap climbers against Fascism.”
I dedicate my ascent to the antifascist struggle!
Sure, this is “just” a climbing ascent, a sporting achievement. But this climb is particularly important to me—probably the most significant of my life as a climber. I also know that it will likely have some impact in the climbing world.
That’s why I want to use my Dawn Wall ascent to bring this issue to the forefront. Silence is complicity; resistance is a duty.
What is happening right now in Belgium, France, Europe in general, and the United States is deeply concerning. We will all face the consequences, even within the privileged bubble of climbing. Fascism is not just about hateful rhetoric—it manifests in police violence, systemic racism and discrimination, and attacks on the rights of women and gender minorities. Being antifascist means rejecting all forms of oppression. Let’s talk about it, organize, protest, resist… My thoughts and solidarity go to all those who are suffering and will suffer the most from this rise of fascism.
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- Nach 23 Tagen in der Wand kapituliert Sébastien Berthe vor der Dawn Wall
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Credits: Titelbild Alex Eggermont