When people say, "It can't be done," or "You don't have what it takes," it makes the task all the more interesting.

Height has nothing to do with it, it is your strength that counts.

For me, climbing is a form of exploration that inspires me to confront my own inner nature within nature. It’s a means of experiencing a state of consciousness where there are no distractions or expectations. This intuitive state of being is what allows me to experience moments of true freedom and harmony.

Relaxation, acceptance, and keeping open mind are key. First of all, peak performance isn't possible if one is not relaxed, and if one is going to stay relaxed they must simply accept problems when they arise and decide to solve them. If I can't do a move I merely accept that I haven't discovered the right sequence, instead of trying the same sequence over and over or just quitting. I will try to do it 20 or 30 different ways, making subtle changes in body position and fot placement, until I find something that does work. That's what I mean by keeping an open mind.

Many of the women who I've taught to climb have a better sense of balance than the men. I think it has to do with being a little more sensitive to it rather than relying on strenght. It's also a reflection of a passive attitude - balancing your way up the rock, rather than attacking it.

When people say, "It can't be done," or "You don't have what it takes," it makes the task all the more interesting.

I'd been a child during the 1960s when women burned their bras and hundreds of thousands gathered in protests against the Vietnam War. As a climber, I've felt connected to a similar nonconformist culture, one opposed to society's increasing materialism, pollution and corruption. Our approach to the rock—clean, traditional climbing, with the least dependence on equipment—was an extension of this ethical viewpoint.