“Climbing has been this passport to some really remote destinations,” Sasha DiGiulian says, and few places feel as remote and dramatic as hanging 2,000 feet above Yosemite Valley on El Capitan. In December 2025, the 33-year-old climber completed a landmark achievement: the first female ascent of El Capitan’s Platinum Wall.
The climb was the culmination of three years of work and preparation, and it demanded endurance, patience, and improvisation. DiGiulian and her team lived on the face of the cliff in a portaledge—a four-by-six-foot hanging tent—spending 23 days suspended above the valley. Nine of those days came during an intense winter storm that dumped more rain on Yosemite that November than the park had seen since 1973. “When people ask about the storm, I say, ‘Yeah, I know—because I was in that tent,’” she says wryly.
Those storm days were focused on basic survival and gear maintenance: keeping clothing and ropes dry, rotating damp layers by wrapping them against her body to use body heat to dry them, boiling freeze-dried meals on a small stove, and snacking on energy bars from her company Send Bars as on-wall product testing. It was a stripped-down existence where small tasks—taping a fingertip, keeping a jacket dry—made the difference between progress and retreat.
Even after the weather cleared, the route itself posed significant challenges. The Platinum Wall is a roughly 3,000-foot monolith of granite broken into many pitches. Much of the climb depends on friction, so wet rock early in the attempt introduced unusual hazards and uncertainty. Near the end, about 400 feet of particularly sustained, difficult terrain tested her stamina and technique. Her objective was clear: climb it clean, without a fall.
Reaching the summit was a cascade of emotions. DiGiulian laughed first—partly at the absurdity of having lived for weeks hanging from a harness and not having walked—and then she experienced a wave of tears, gratitude, and joy. The rituals of wall living—everything tied in so nothing can fall 3,000 feet—heightened the sense that this was both a risky endeavor and a profound privilege.
The ascent added another entry to a growing list of first female ascents across remote regions, from French Polynesia to Madagascar, and reinforced DiGiulian’s reputation for chasing pioneering routes around the globe. She’s traveled to more than 50 countries and calls Yosemite one of the most beautiful places she’s seen.
Beyond personal accomplishment, DiGiulian hopes the climb carries wider significance. “The rock is the rock,” she says, emphasizing that climbing doesn’t split itself by gender—the route doesn’t care who you are. Still, climbing’s history has been male-dominated, and early in her career she lacked visible role models. Coming from an urban background and a family unfamiliar with the sport, she forged a path anyway, and she wants that path to be more visible and accessible to others.
Her outlook is optimistic. She expects continued progress for women in sport, business, and travel, and she champions solution-focused thinking: positivity, support, and example create momentum. Watching another woman succeed can be catalytic—“If she can do it, I can do it too,” she says—sparking others to attempt goals that once seemed out of reach.
Looking ahead, DiGiulian plans to keep climbing and to advocate for inclusivity in the sport. She frames the Platinum Wall ascent not just as a personal milestone but as a possible spark for future climbers—especially women and girls—who will aim for their own bold, wild objectives.
