One conversation towards 200 ascents

“I started climbing at 17. I lived really close to Yosemite National Park and all I wanted to do was to move there and start climbing every day,” says Mike. “But I was in college in Fresno, California, pursuing a maths major. I was really torn, so I went over to my grandmother's house – she was a big influence in my life.”

“She said ‘The time is now, why ration passion? There's no question here. You need to go.’ So I took all my books to the bookstore, dropped them off and then got my truck and moved to Yosemite. It was a done deal.”

Mike Libecki in Venezuela, photo by John Burcham

“If my equipment fails, I fail. If it doesn’t do its job and doesn’t survive, I can't do my job and I can't survive. So there’s a theme to my equipment: it cannot fail.”

Mike climbed nearly every day after, then started traveling overseas to climb. He fell in love with discovering, what he calls, “virgin earth”. He would work in a ski shop six days a week in winter and spring, and then by summer and fall charge off abroad on expeditions – and charge his credit cards to the max in the process.

“At one stage I was $40,000 in debt,” he tells me…and then admits to rummaging through bins for food.

“I was paying for expeditions, believing in the fact that it's going to work out, that I'll come back and I'll work hard and I'll pursue passion no matter what it takes. You know, that's a lot of words. It was a lot of work and sacrifice and compromise. But anything that is worth doing in our life is going to take compromise and sacrifice. There's a behind-the-scenes that’s dark and tough. It’s painful, it’s emotional, but it all equals something incredible.”

Mike Libecki in Queen Maud Land Antarctica, photo by Cory Richards

As Mike gained momentum, experience and friends, his climbing slowly evolved into writing stories, selling photos and making films. “And then I started accessing the outdoor industry and the marketing, and working with companies to design product and to make the best gear on the planet. It's been an evolution of that ever since.”

Like any pro who dangles from sheer rock faces, gear means a whole lot to Mike – in fact, it’s paramount.

“My equipment is maybe the most important thing in every single way, aside from the attitude, the preparation and the physical, mental and spiritual aspect of what I do. If my equipment fails, I fail. If it doesn’t do its job and doesn’t survive, I can't do my job and I can't survive. So there’s a theme to my equipment: it cannot fail.”

“I help test, design and produce some of the best equipment out there. It must meet or exceed the standards I put on it.”

Mike Libecki in Queen Maud Land Antarctica, photo by Cory Richards

And, with Mike, these standards are high. He deals with extremes – be it 1000-mile-per-hour winds ripping at his rope, falling anvils of rock or temperatures well below zero.

Mike deals with more extremes than most. Two or three big expeditions a year would be a year-well-trekked for your average modern-day explorer, but he manages to chalk up four, five, and sometimes six in a year, year on year, with no signs of slowing down.

“I put it down to my OECD disorder,” he laughs. That’s his own acronym: Obsessive Expedition Climbing Disorder. A disorder driven wholly and simply by what Mike calls “organic enthusiasm” – an energy that flows through those pursuing their true passions.

“That’s what I truly love to do,” he tells me. “Exploring and climbing and going to these really remote places. That just happens to be organically what I love. I don't know why. I didn't choose it, it chose me.” And this passion fuels his obsession and propels him forward, each and every day; he never stops.

“When I'm not on an expedition, I'm still on an expedition. I'm planning, I'm preparing, I'm looking ahead to the next one. It’s a huge equation to plan an expedition. All the constants and variables – every single detail is as equally important as the next to reach the final product of success, safety, and coming home alive.”