Part I: Madagascar

The tale begins on the island nation of Madagascar, where I had travelled in search of the Big Stone.

As we approached our first objective of the trip, a two-day wall called Suava Dia, we noticed that the two hikers we had spotted ahead of us on the trail, looked distinctly unlike hikers.

For starters, they were bad at hiking. Despite their substantial head start, we rapidly caught them. Secondly, they were shirtless and one had bright pink hair. The other was carrying a big haulbag.

What were the odds of encountering other climbers out here?

And even if they were climbers, Tsaranoro has countless routes. Surely the odds of us ending up on the same route were zero?

We were wrong.

That evening we found ourselves sharing the halfway bivy ledge with HDizz and Lujan. In the following weeks they introduced us to the fellow members of their circus troupe, Freesnakewilly and cedar.

I listened to their tales of getting food poisoned by suspicious hot sauces, sleeping beside ancient Malagasy tombs, crashing sacred Malagasy ceremonies at 3 a.m. and minor grave robbery involving a shoe stolen from one of the aforementioned tombs (with the booty later being clipped to the crux bolt of El Niño).

There were stories of bolting routes by climbing above the last bolt, deciding where the next one should go, jumping off, and then reclimbing to place it.

Clearly these people could not be trusted.

Fortunately, Madagascar is a large island and the world is an even larger place.

I would probably never see them again.

Part II: The Valley

Turns out the world is actually quite small.

Only a few weeks later I ran into Freesnake Willy in Yosemite.

My mission there was to collect hundreds of clown points by climbing El Cap with fellow clown Nick.

Armed with Freesnake Willy’s beta and seventy metres of his finest static line, we launched onto The Nose.

When we asked about the suspicious tape wrapped around one section of the rope, he reassured us that the sheath was merely a little fuzzy and that, realistically, you only needs two or three core strands to haul a bag anyway because “these static lines are made so tough”. 

The tape fell off after three pitches. The fuzzy section instantly turned into a full coreshot. On the upside, this made it easy to tell exactly how many core-strands were holding up our bag.

Two days and a fair bit of shenanigans later we sat on Boot Flake in a swaying 1990s portaledge, watching rain hammer the fly and wondering why we had ever trusted that guy.

Also we discovered that jugging doesn’t even earn clown points.

Luckily, I was leaving for South America soon, presumably leaving FreesnakeWilly behind. 

⸻

Part III: The Southern Valley (Cochamó)

Naturally, I was wrong again.

Not only did I run into Freesnake Willy in Cochamó, but HDizz, Luan, and an ever-expanding cast of newly converted clowns had made their way there as well.

Much has already been written about the 2026 Cochamó season elsewhere, so I will spare the reader the finer details. Suffice it to say that many clown points were collected during those months, some of them on 6mm taglines. 

At the end of the season I carefully added up my totals and arrived at roughly 6000 metres of top roping.

I settled comfortably into my throne as Top Clown, secure in the knowledge that this would be a tough number to beat. 

That feeling lasted for approximately three glorious days.

Then RachelTakesHard finished adding up her own logbook and with a single monstrous bulk log she swooped me off the throne and established her months long reign.

Having seen the size of her AI-powered biceps, I immediately recognized that reclaiming my title would not be easy. There was only one option left.

I would have to return to the Valley (the northern one).

———

Part IV: The Valley Again

Upon returning to Yosemite I quickly realized that running TRS laps on Generator Crack was not going to get me anywhere.

I needed allies.

Fortunately Hikergirl and CheesyEddie (now onlycalves) were around. Together we worked hard to collect them clown points and soon CheesyEddie (now onlycalves) and I had top-roped the entirety of Nutcracker (with Hikergirl taking one for the team getting all the snakes up for us).

Yet even after another lap up the captain (this time with no jugging, having learned that jumars are the work of Satan) RachelTakesHard was still top clown and neither I nor Cheesyeddie (now onlycalves) or Hikergirl were nowhere close. The valley was clearly not cutting it. I needed to go on a pilgrimage to the Mekka of toproping: Index. 

Part V: The promised lands of TR

Having gotten down from the Captain I started said pilgrammage the very next day by hitching a ride to the coast of California. Pausing only a day or two for my tips to heal (having read Tips for stiff Tips, we then blasted north, where I proceeded to take a series of 15 different busses until I, aided by fellow clowns Hikergirl, cheesyeddy (now OnlyCalves) and Dropitlowgirl reached Index and set up my (or actually freesnakewillys) tent by the river. For two weeks I proceeded to redline my microtraxion as hard as I could and rode the free serpents every day. And finally on my flight home, I added up the points and figured I was once again back in the throne as king clown. 

Epilogue

This time my reign lasted less than a week, with cheesyeddy (now onlycalves) quickly swooping in. But I had learned that maybe the real prize was not the top clown throne after all, but the toprope meters we met along the way or something like that.