The Conquistador - Henry Barber 50 Years On

“How you climb the mountain is more important than reaching the top.” Yvon Chouinard

In the 1970s, Australian climbing was still in its infancy. The grades 21 and 22 were only just solidifying as determined locals threw themselves at plum aid lines.When Henry Barber landed in Brisbane, he would redefine climbing style and pave the future of our climbing culture. Over his 42-day trip, Henry climbed 100 routes at twenty crags, across six states.

Before that, Barber had already begun shaping modern climbing ethics. In 1973, the 20-year-old from America’s East Coast arrived in Yosemite, establishing the valley’s first 5.11c (23), Butterballs, onsight. He later onsight free soloed the Steck-Salathe, a burly 5.9 off-width, and reportedly climbed 325 of 365 days that year. His commitment to bold, ground-up climbing would become his hallmark.

The man, the myth, the legend – Henry Barber

We met Henry at his slideshow the night before. I’d been excited but wary of the old saying “don’t meet your heroes,” half expecting nostalgia and cynicism. Instead, he was polite, respectful, and charismatic. He spoke about his early days, his travels and photos, and the people and places that shaped climbing. He touched on bolting—not with hostility, but with concern for the dilution of the climbing experience. His humility surprised me.

Our friend Jelena had also sent Henry a photo of me climbing dressed in his iconic look, which helped put us in contact. He still doesn’t wear a harness or use cams—though he insists you’d be silly not to—and he never forces his style on others. Yet that’s exactly what Alex and I planned to emulate the next day.

The following morning, Alex Mougenot, myself, Nathan McNeil, Rob Saunders and Henry met at Frog Buttress in Boonah, Queensland’s crack-climbing haven. Standing there with someone who had shaped Australian climbing so profoundly was surreal. Watching his reaction as we passed the Dugandan pub—a place he’d spent a lot of time—was like seeing someone return home. “It hasn’t changed a bit!” As we walked along the cliff, he shared stories with every route we passed. He climbed Magical Mystery Tour (19) onsight-solo on a hot, sweaty day. He recalled he wasn’t happy with how felt during the solo.

We stopped beneath Conquistador, one of the classic climbs of Australia put up by Henry on his trip. It looms overhead steep and intimidating yet arching and beautiful. Our goal was for Alex & I to climb a route of Henry’s each, using nothing but his original gear: an alarmingly light rack of Chouinard stoppers, Hexcentrics, 10 spare biners, some old slings & his white flat cap from 50 years ago. 

He was particularly enthusiastic to present us with bundles of 1” inch tube webbing. He insisted we didn’t have to wear a swami belt if we weren’t comfortable but how could we resist. Henry tied it high and tight on my waist, reminiscent of lifting belt and no leg loops – yikes. Henry almost seemed a little impressed when I pulled on my pair of EB Super Grattons, the staple rock shoe of the 70s, void of sticky rubber. Although on his trip he wore a pair of stiff sole boots, not climbing shoes.

Kyle Addy & Alex Mougenot trying on the Swami belts

Stood atop the pillar at the base of the route, I studied the features of the rock. I planned out stances and potential placements. The rack held only a few pieces large enough for the first half of the climb. I knew the climb well, but I’d never lead in these boots before, and they felt shockingly slippery.

I started up the crack, taking time to carefully seat each jamb. I hesitated beneath the crux, up climbing, down climbing while the spectators below threw banter and encouragement. I told myself that after the crux I should be able to get some more gear in. I summoned some courage and started the sequence of steep finger locks.

Finally at a good hold, I couldn’t for the life of me get a gear to seat. “These bloody things are useless!” This old gear really requires some finesse. Unlike modern wires, these old things are a straight wedge with no offset.

I remained gripped here for some time, muscles aching and with beads of sweat on my brow, the sun was warm and high in the sky. Glancing down at a precariously positioned hex below my feet, I was also then reminded of the fact that I wasn’t wearing a harness. Nathan seemed to find everything quite casual from behind the camera. I asked if he had any cams, but he chose to ignore to me.

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Forced to find an alternative I finally fiddled a thin sideways nut. This gave me the confidence to stand on the jug and recover slightly. The terrain was still steep and I jiggled in a couple small hexes at the top of the finger crack. Bridging on thin footers with aching toes I gained positive holds and mantled the ledge. It was hot and although the climbing was easier it still required thought. Standing on large sloping footers was insecure, my feet were numbed and the rubber felt like it was going to slide right off. I stumbled onto the belay ledge, full body shaking and completely drained. This was supposed to be the warmup.

Still recovering from my ordeal, Alex tied in below the ominous corner of Deliverance. He dispatched the low pin scar crux, to then be confronted with twin cracks hidden from view in the corner. He felt around for a constriction to no avail. With the sun setting and the thought of beer beckoning, we bailed for the pub. Henry recounted stories from the pictures on the wall whilst sipping a XXXX.

Alex Mougenot on Deliverance (23), Frog Buttress, QLD

The next morning, we returned. After thinking about Deliverance on Henry’s rack, Alex decided the blind placements were too risky and chose Insomnia (22)—a striking orange book corner capped by a looming off-width. Alex climbed in fine style, precise but cautious. At the foot of the off-width he placed a couple hexes in a deep adjacent crack. With no other wide protection, he climbed some 10m to the top. An inspiring lead taking a note from Henry’s playbook of insane runouts. 

As I was seconding, the rope became slack. “Can you take in a bit?” I called. The reply: “Sorry mate, we’re just dealing with a brown snake at the belay!” Henry’s ears pricked up, far more excited than the others were. He had fond memories of Australian wildlife, and the encounter delighted him.

Alex Mougenot on Insomnia (22), Frog Buttress, QLD

Henry had a plane to catch—bound for Arapiles to retrace his 1975 journey and revisit the cliffs and communities he’d influenced. We didn’t have time for a last pint at the Doogs. It didn’t matter. Alex and I had climbed with a legend.

Those days left an irreversible impression on me. They offered insight into Henry’s mastery and displayed the beauty of raw simplicity. Crude gear demands expertise and confidence—not just in movement, but in protecting yourself. Doing more with less, and making it count.

In a world where everything is made easier, I resonate with Henry’s minimalist approach, valuing style and resourcefulness over glamorous grades. His achievements inspire, but they’re eclipsed by the quality of his company: humble, thoughtful, and always ready for a laugh over a beer.

Meeting your heroes, I learned, can be one of the most fulfilling things you do in life.

During his two or so week visit to Frog in 1975, Henry Barber put up 15 new lines. In our opinion, these are the standouts:

• ​-​Deliverance (23)
• -​Insomnia (22)
• -​Devils Dihedral (20)
• -​Conquistador (21)
• -​Child In Time (22)

BIO

“Kyle Addy is the kind of climber we all secretly wish we could be. He is an unwavering optimist with a contagious passion for everything Frog Buttress.” – Sam Pearson

Frog Buttress & The Scenic Rim. All images by Nathan McNeil