This commentary is by Simon Testa, a retired geologist, self-described data nerd and regular BRL contributor who lives in Boulder. He is an avid Flatiron scrambler and the author of “Best Flatiron Scrambles.”

The Flatirons dominate Boulder’s western skyline. They are an undeniable part of the city’s identity, and their high-friction sandstone and less-than-vertical angles invite the adventurous upward.

Sometimes climbers ascend them with harnesses and ropes. Often they do not. 

It is not uncommon to see people moving alone across these tilted slabs hundreds of feet above the ground without protection. To many Boulder residents, the sight barely registers anymore. Among local outdoor enthusiasts, “scrambling” the Second Flatiron is a rite of passage and a gateway to exploring other local routes. That normalization — the quiet familiarity with solo movement on exposed terrain — has become one of the defining features of Boulder’s outdoor culture. It may also shape how risk and consequence are perceived.

On May 14, 33-year-old Ryan Kelly, died on the Second Flatiron. It was not the first life the Flatirons have claimed. Since 1922, there have been 18 deaths associated with unroped climbing in the Flatirons, including 10 since 2002. Those numbers inevitably raise questions about risk and consequence, and whether the normalization of an activity with such high stakes influences behavior.

Read: Boulder’s Flatiron scrambling fatalities — how dangerous is it, really?

In Boulder, unroped climbing is highly visible. Social media amplifies that visibility. A perfectly framed image high on a Flatiron face captures only a fraction of reality. It rewards aesthetics over context, rarely conveying the years of experience, retreats, close calls and caution behind the image.

The fatalities themselves span a wide range of circumstances. Some involved experienced climbers; others involved people with little or no climbing background. Several occurred in adverse conditions, including poor weather and rockfall. The contributing factors appear varied, but likely include complacency among experienced climbers, overestimation of ability among the inexperienced and environmental hazards beyond human control.

The Flatirons will always beckon the adventurous. Their proximity, beauty and accessibility make that inevitable. Lone figures moving across sandstone faces will likely remain part of Boulder’s identity.

The challenge is ensuring that familiarity does not quietly distort perceptions of the stakes involved.

Cultural normalization does not make an activity safe. The consequences of unroped climbing in the Flatirons can include life-altering injuries and death, regardless of how familiar or accepted the practice may feel. Recognizing how familiarity shapes perception is an important first step in honestly assessing one’s own tolerance for risk.

Postscript: In Boulder’s outdoor vernacular, moving unroped in the Flatirons is often referred to as “scrambling,” a term that can sound more casual than the activity itself. As explored in my earlier BRL commentary on Flatiron scrambling fatalities and risk, the word carries a unique local meaning. Traditionally, scrambling refers to movement on lower-grade terrain between hiking and technical climbing. But in the Flatirons, the term is frequently used for unroped ascents of Class 5 climbing routes — terrain that would technically qualify as free soloing. 

The distinction matters because language can shape perception. Terms like “scrambling” may unintentionally soften how people perceive the risks involved. 

In the absence of universally accepted definitions, climbers should consider several factors before deciding to climb without a rope: the technical difficulty of the terrain, exposure, rock quality, weather and the realistic consequences of a fall. 

It is also worth reflecting on how external influences — guidebooks, social media, peers and local culture — may shape perceptions of acceptable risk.

Perhaps most importantly, climbers should honestly assess their own experience, strengths, limitations and motivations, while guarding against complacency on familiar terrain.

Simon Testa is a retired geologist and self-described data enthusiast based in Boulder. His contributions to Boulder Reporting Lab reflect a data-driven approach to storytelling, fueled by a deep curiosity about patterns, people, and place. A passionate Flatiron scrambler, he’s the author of Best Flatiron Scrambles and spends much of his time exploring the landscapes that make Boulder unique.

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