In Sicily, with Haston
Stevie Haston is the greatest climber of my generation.
As a traditional rock climber in his native Britain, Stevie set the local standard with his bold leads on Welsh slate and the sea cliffs of Gogarth. As an ice climber, Stevie moved the world standard three whole grades with his cutting-edge mixed routes. In the American desert, Stevie upped the ante with difficult free ascents of towers that had only been climbed on aid. As an alpinist, he did everything hard in Chamonix and added a few new ones of his own. He then climbed to the top of an 8000m peak and snowboarded down it.
While there are many athletes his equal in each of these alpine disciplines, there are none who excelled at them all like Haston.
Stevie is also the most famous climber of my generation, and he cultivated his celebrity image with gusto. He was often portrayed in the climbing press as a pugilistic bad boy, and Stevie used this notoriety to his advantage with sponsors and competitors alike. The truth could not be further from this image: Stevie is one of the sweetest people I know, with an overwhelming love for his friends and family.
While we first met in the early 80’s, Stevie and I began climbing together in the 90’s on one of his many trips to Colorado. We traded houses in Chamonix and Boulder for more than a decade, spending months at a time in each other’s lives climbing in the places we both loved. Stevie’s affection for my wife was only exceeded by my affection for his, and the four of us adored our travels together. My children have grown up with him and love their Uncle Stevie in a way that brings tears to us both.
The author’s son enjoys a splendid birthday ascent of the Third Flatiron above Boulder with his Uncle Stevie.
At the core of our friendship is a shared climbing history. Climbing in our generation was a deadly serious business, and Stevie and I are surrounded by the ghosts of partners who did not survive it. Whether through luck or skill, we did and now get to enjoy our climbing together at a more relaxed pace.
Stevie met me in Sicily a couple years ago, a place neither of us had been and where no one knew who we were. There was an international Guides meeting that I was asked to attend for AIARE, and it’s an easy flight from Zurich where I was on business. Stevie lives in Malta now where his Mother grew up, and it was a short hop for him to Sicily as well. The rock climbing is rough by the buffed-out standards of the European crags we frequent, but the food and wine in Sicily are exceptional and the hospitality of the locals can’t be beat.
One day, we did a climbing tour around Mt. Etna with the AMGA’s able Executive Director, Alex Kossef, sampling the crags on the volcano’s west and north sides. After climbing, we ended up at a new winery established by my friend Carlo Franchetti, one of Italy’s greatest winemakers. Carlo and his brother Andrea have resurrected some ancient narello mascalese vines on the slopes of Etna and now make a series of outstanding single-vineyard crus called Passopisciaro. We were welcomed warmly to the property and Stevie, Alex and I got to sample all of Carlo’s best vintages in an epic tasting.
On our penultimate day, Stevie and I drove down from our villa to the ancient town of Siracusa. We parked ourselves at a classy beach resort, climbed a mile-long sea level traverse of the limestone cliffs that ring the coastline, and followed that up with an awesome lunch at their one-star restaurant. After espressos and a swim, we decamped for a steep crag south of town. Stevie floated the overhanging limestone routes and was gracious enough to hold the rope for me as I flailed away at them. We cleaned up, toured ourselves around the ancient city and found an excellent plate of Sicilian pasta there for dinner.
On the drive home, I realized that I was happy in Sicily with Haston.
