The camera pans up a minimalist landscape of snow and stone. Jagged spires stab into the air, their dramatic profiles accentuated by the sharp drone of a male voice singing wordlessly. It might be the beginning of Meru — until the throat singing cuts out, and the narrator says, “My bad, little something in my throat.”
The Crystal Towers: a Yukon Climbing Story is one of three projects funded by the Yukon government for its 125th anniversary. This elegant short documentary is part climbing film, part lighthearted travelogue, and part advertisement for the sparse beauty of Yukon.
Radelet Peak
The team’s goal was to make the first ascent of Radelet Peak’s subsidiary summit via the ridge shown in orange. Photo: John Serjeantson
One hundred and twenty kilometers south of Whitehorse, Radelet Peak lurks above a small lake, still mostly frozen in July when the documentary was filmed. Only one of the team, self-professed flamingo fan Zach Clanton, had made the trip before. Clanton conceived of a new route up the knife-edge arete on the mountain’s east side.
But bolting a new route would take hardware, and getting hardware to Radelet Peak would take a helicopter. Where might a “quintessential climbing dirtbag,” in the words of his climbing partner Rob Cohen, acquire many thousands of dollars for such a flight?
The government, as it turned out. With support from the Yukon125 fund, four climbers set out with a drone, a carton of Metamucil, and (almost) enough gear to bolt a new route.
Zach Clanton conducted his interviews for the documentary from his throne atop an inflatable pink flamingo. He professes to be wearing waterproof socks. Photo: John Serjeantson
The route
The Crystal Towers starts gently as its protagonists tackle the ridge à cheval. The slope isn’t steep, but we are frequently informed that it’s wickedly sharp, and they would rather it weren’t so sharp, thank you very much.
Then the first headwall flaunts up above them, and the documentary comes into its own. Climber and filming lead John Serjeantson effectively uses his drone for striking panoramas. One features Dave Benton nestled in a massive maw of rock just under the subsidiary peak.
Dave Benton described a flat surface inside the crack suitable for a bivouac. Photo: John Serjeantson
Most of the route is crack climbing. Both finger cracks and hand cracks snake up seemingly impassible granite walls. Unfortunately, most of this climbing didn’t make it to camera.
It’s in close quarters that The Crystal Towers struggles: only a few short sections of GoPro footage supplement the wide shots, and the team largely did not record leads from below.
The lack of footage confuses the narrative. One climber taps out of summit day, referencing difficulties on the route never shown onscreen or explained to the audience.
But while it’s clear that these are more climbers than documentarians, that doesn’t stop them from creating a lovely film. The shots are clean, showcasing the splendor of the landscape, and the narration brings the audience along on the most exciting pitches. It’s always a good sign when a video leaves you wanting more instead of less.
The first part of the route features a gentle slope but a sharp ridge. Photo: John Serjeantson
The film meets its goals
As for whether the team sends the route, you’ll have to watch and see. But the bolting they carried out will allow a new generation of climbers to explore this region. Said Zach Clanton, “Our goal was to create somewhere that people can walk in with just a rack and a rope and have a super good time, and explore a part of the Yukon they never knew existed.”
And as a promo for the beauty of Yukon, well, halfway through, I was already googling plane tickets.
