Seriously Committed to the Sharp End

Hanging in an orb of dim light, Guillermo “Wili” Bañales was all alone. The flickering headlamp had just enough juice to partially illuminate the rock in front of his hands, but a meter to either side lurked an inky abyss. Over the last decade, the twenty-seven-year-old had committed this climbing route to memory, one of more than five hundred routes on Atxarte, the iconic limestone wall in the heart of Spain’s Basque Country.

Still, this felt new. Close to midnight, he had slipped past metal fencing and tents of armed guards. Over the last few weeks, those corporate mercenaries had been firing rubber bullets and tear gas canisters at his crew, and Wili wasn’t taking any chances. Leaving his rope and belay partner at home, he free-soloed his way above the fray with nothing but a backpack full of chorizo, bread, and a few cartons of milk. Every two meters, he pulled a stick of butter from his pants pocket and rubbed a