Shared Ascents: Skills Exchange between Climbers and Honey Harvesters

To most climbers, climbing is a sport, a pastime, and a passion. Yet for many communities around the world, climbing takes different forms—one of them being a source of livelihood. In collaboration with The Global Climbing Initiative(S'ouvre dans une nouvelle fenêtre), Osprey funds Social Impact Grants every year that uplift the visions of local climbing communities creating positive impact. Read on to discover one of our first grant projects, which supported Bangalore Climbing Initiatives(S'ouvre dans une nouvelle fenêtre) in providing safety trainings to Indigenous honey harvesters in India. 

From late May through August, a curious enterprise takes shape in a certain southern forest in India. With the beginning of the season locally known as Mungaar, teams of villagers gather to set off in the quiet of the night—up towering trees and precipitous cliffs. Donning nothing more than a simple cotton vest, a traditional wraparound bottom, and a towel doubling as headgear, they deftly switch from branch to branch and rappel down steep cliffsides, maintaining a levelheaded and calm demeanor while involved in an endeavour that would make one’s toes curl just to watch. 

These are the locals residing around the Sathyamangalam Tiger Reserve (Sathy), where honey harvesting is a source of seasonal livelihood. While, through the year, they take up sundry jobs in surrounding areas—as daily wage labourers, coffee estate workers, or even drivers—towards the end of April, teams begin to form, plans are made, equipment is prepared, and prayers are offered for the beginning of the harvesting season. 

I, of course, had no idea about any of this prior to visiting Sathy for the first time. Two years since then, I’ve experienced Sathy from scorching sun to pounding rains; and met people I’ll remember always.

I grew up in a small town in Western India, surrounded by a verdant countryside, a river running through town, and some of the most gorgeous hikes in the region—all within a few kilometers from home. My climbing journey started with a love for the outdoors and a curiosity for exploration; it was sustained by the friendships and feeling of community I found along the way. Sometime in early 2023, I incidentally came across a short clip of honey harvesters hanging off daunting cliffs above the forest, pulling off a maneuver that to me was previously unseen, and I decided to follow that curiosity. In hindsight, I’ve realized that even curiosity is a factor of privilege. 

As someone who had the privilege of access—to information, fellow climbers, equipment, and climbing spaces so often set against the backdrop of these very hills and forests—what did it mean to meaningfully expand the horizons of this curiosity? And more importantly, could this be an opportunity to engage with another community? Here, I was introduced to people with an entirely different story: Climbers in every sense of the word, with their own approach and systems. What for most of us in the city is a weekend getaway or a source of recreation was here a lifestyle, perhaps even a necessity.

All Roads Lead to Sathy

Spanning across an area of 1,408.6 sq. km., Sathy was declared a Tiger Reserve in 2013. Located in the Nilgiri Biosphere region in Southern India, it is a part of the contiguous belt of forests, set at the confluence of the Eastern and Western Ghats mountain ranges. Owing to its unique geography, it transitions from tropical evergreen to dry deciduous forests, making it a highly biodiverse area. 

After conversations with close friends in the climbing community, a small group of us decided to visit Sathy purely as an initial ethnobotanical research exercise. I reached out to Keystone Foundation in this context, having known of their work in the region. They have been working with forest-edge dwelling communities in the Niligiri biosphere region since the early 90’s, and established their field station in Sathy sometime around 2004. Since then, their team has been working closely with the local communities and the forest department on issues of ecology, livelihoods and conservation. Over multiple visits and conversations, they became our collaborators on this project, and were our bridge in being able to build a meaningful rapport with the villagers.

Here we met Mari, now about 75, one of the oldest and most respected honey hunters in the region. Representing the fifth generation of harvesters in his family, Mari started climbing when he was 18 with coir ropes fashioned out of the fabrics of the Indian Black Wood tree, locally known as Karsu. In another village, we met a team of five harvesters who harvest honey from trees, starting with the larger ones that can sometimes have as many as 30-40 honeycombs. This village became our starting point. 

Building bridges: climbing craft and community ties

Through multiple visits and conversations, the potential of this project began to reveal itself. We understood how these harvesters efficiently leveraged the available resources—vines and barks, locally available ropes, and farming equipment—to build a climbing system. However, what these harvesters primarily rely on, hundreds of feet off the ground and climbing free, is faith in their own skills and that of the higher powers. Conversations ranged from understanding the ecology, economics, traditions, and techniques of climbing up cliffs and trees to harvest honey, to the notions of sustainability, faith, fear, a sense of community, and what their idea of safety was.

We were willing to offer help whenever explicitly asked, while being extremely mindful of not taking any kind of a high ground in terms of offering or imposing solutions. At every stage, the project and its objectives evolved based on active feedback from these members. We were restrained and respectful in our questions; the villagers were giving and trusting with their answers and anecdotes. 

The interviews sometimes took a heartening yet hilarious turn—I don’t speak a word of Tamil, so on every trip a Tamil-speaking friend would accompany us to the villages, along with the team from Keystone. Interviews would follow an English-Tamil/Tamil-English relay of question and answers between me, the translator, and the harvesters. Sometimes out of excitement, when one started speaking over the other, pulling each others’ leg in jest or giving differing pieces of information, I sat there feeling like I was losing the plot. Which of course, was enough to make the locals erupt in bouts of laughter looking at my dazed face. Gradually though, the plan for a skills exchange project began to crystallize.

Back in Bangalore, we went back and forth a bunch of times, figuring out the best equipment and skills to share in the first round of training. How could we keep the training informative without it being overwhelming; how do we make sure these new skills don’t interfere with their traditional approach and dexterity; what equipment would prove to be useful and safe, without being too exclusive; what pieces of gear would suffice for the said group. The gear needed to be safe and accessible in India, so we looked at local certified brands we could support, along with international high quality ones that could bear the rough, repeated use, and last them many seasons. 

This happened to be around the same time that Global Climbing Initiative (GCI) was launching their inaugural Community Grants with support from Osprey. GCI looks to power climbing communities’ visions for the growth of climbing and the positive ripple effects that it creates. The grants provide funding for a range of initiatives by climbing organizations outside of the continental United States that share the vision of advancing global climbing and addressing inequities and systemic challenges in the climbing world. Along with providing funding, GCI also became curious and patient collaborators, committed to seeing the project through.

Sharing skills and stories

As the structure and outcomes of the project were getting clearer, we were also handling permits, uncertain weather conditions, and other logistical challenges. Mid-2024, with Bangalore Climbing Initiatives (BCI) offering technical expertise, we were able to conduct our first training session with a group of six honey harvesters from a small village bordering the eastern boundaries of Sathy. Since 2014, BCI has been working to make climbing spaces and culture more inclusive, safe, and knowledgeable for everyone. Technical, rescue, and rope skill training are important parts of this initiative, and this was another step in that direction. Our goal was to help the harvesters make their endeavor safer by providing fundamental skillsets we’d use in climbing, which could be a back-up and a layer of safety without interfering with their natural rhythm or ease of movement. 

To that end, after closely observing how they harvest honey, we started working with the harvesters to introduce them to climbing gear, knots, safety placements, and concepts of anchoring and belaying. In a brief amount of time, we were able to share skills like building a belay station, what the role of a belayer is, belaying techniques, safety considerations, how they could place safety anchors periodically around branches as they ascend, how they could descend safely while carrying their own harvesting gear, and some best practices when it came to handling and storing their gear and rope. 

We spent two beautiful days under the sun, by the forests—laughing, sharing anecdotes in languages neither understood perfectly, exchanging skills, stories, videos, and meals. The group had an instinctive capacity to pick up new concepts and apply it to their climbing. I was a tad jittery throughout, unsure of how much they would be able to pick up and retain, whether it would truly add value to their work, and what challenges might arise that we may not have accounted for. True to their spirit of collaborative work, however, on the final day of training, as we arrived on the site, the harvesters were there before us, already having picked a few trees to practice on, and helping each other with the knots, equipment, and systems.

Learnings, and the way ahead 

In the months following the training, I’ve tried my best to get timely feedback and updates on how the harvesters reacted to the training in time. Absorbing new skills deeply enough to implement them comfortably as needed in the field requires constant practice. Following the harvesting season, the group disintegrates as each gets back to their own work. In the time since the training, it has been difficult for the group to convene and continue to practice the skills, in spite of the provision of videos and materials for easy reference and review. 

What we learned from doing this exercise is that while the communities are keen to adopt newer techniques and skills, especially for the sake of the safety of the younger generation that would enter this profession, the possibility of change is higher in the presence of a local coordinator or with a local entity sharing higher accountability to continue the training sessions after the initial rounds.

Through the course of working with the folks in Sathy, we came across many surprises and challenges—some predicted, some unforeseen. As we take a step back to consider the best ways to continue engaging with this and other communities that have since shown interest in our work of sharing climbing and allied skills, we’ve all come back with so much owing to these interactions. 

Sports, movement, and adventure intersect with the lives of people across the world in the most astonishing ways. Having the opportunity to interact with these climbers, unbound by gear or grades, motivated by a completely different set of principles and objectives, yet finding resonance in another community is an experience I hold close. The only way we all move forward is together. If we have the intention, we owe the world a listening ear. If we have the ability, we owe the world action. Access is privilege, and if we have access, we owe it to our communities to share it. 

This project was made possible by the generous and kind support of the Sathyamangalam Forest Department, the people of Sathy, the Keystone Foundation, the Global Climbing Initiative, Bangalore Climbing Initiatives, Osprey Packs, and our mentor Dave Gates. For anyone else in any part of the world attempting something similar, I would love to hear, share with and learn from you.