CN Tower free soloist questions Alex Honnold’s claim to “biggest urban free solo”

There is no question that Alex Honnold’s anticipated ascent of Taipei 101 on Friday will be one for the history books.

At 101 storeys and 508 metres (1,667 ft), the structure is the tallest in Taiwan and the 11th tallest in the world.

“It will be the biggest urban free solo climb ever,” Honnold says in Netflix’s promotional trailers for the event.

Never before has so much attention been given to urban free soloing.

The combination of the world’s most famous climber and Netflix’s stamp of approval is a significant step forward in legitimizing what has mostly been considered nothing more than a peculiarity or a publicity stunt.

And maybe it still is. But with increased attention comes increased greater scrutiny over who gets to claim the title of having the biggest urban free solo.

One pioneer in that field has been particularly vocal in this case.

“Spider Dan” Goodwin previously made headlines in 1986 for a double free solo ascent of the CN Tower’s elevator shaft.

The CN Tower stands at 553.3 m-high (1,815.3 ft), but Goodwin told Guiness World Records to not count the spire, as he believed it did not represent the same technical challenge as the vertical face.

As a result, media reports from that time crowned him the record holder after he completed two laps of the 335.3 metre (1,100 ft) portion of the tower in one day.

In terms of sheer vertical distance climbed, that would be 670.6 metres (2,200 feet). On top of that, Goodwin said his ascent was an unrehearsed onsight, which adds significantly to the difficulty.

Furthermore, the nature of the structure he climbed did not lend itself well to taking consistent rests, while Taipei 101 has balconies every eight floors, allowing for regular breaks and the possibility of non-fatal falls.

In a conversation with Gripped, Goodwin said that his ascent had several distinctions. In his climb, there were always fatal consequences for error; it was an on-sight instead of rehearsed; it was a sustained push, and it included a rappel descent consistent with the spirit of mountaineering.

Gripped reached out to Honnold for comment but did not receive a reply before press deadline. Updates will be made if a comment is received.

Gripped had an extended written correspondence with Goodwin in the days leading up to Skyscraper Live, discussing the growth of urban soloing, its potential recognition as a legitimate sport and on what terms someone can claim its crown.

What follows are excerpts from the conversation, edited for brevity and clarity.

Gripped: Mountaineering, rock climbing etc., are all reasonably established sports with conventions and norms. They are considered perhaps more “noble” endeavours. But building climbing/soloing has often been seen (rightly or wrongly) as a publicity stunt. Do you think this is changing now, and could it become a legitimate sport?

Goodwin: Great question. I believe it is important to call this moment what it is. What we are witnessing with Alex Honnold’s current project is the intersection of high-performance athletics and commercial entertainment. It is, in essence, a choreographed production—a publicity event with the primary mission of driving streaming subscriptions. This is not a disparagement of the platform; I enjoy Netflix as much as anyone. However, we must distinguish between the raw, uncertain nature of exploration and a rehearsed spectacle. That is how the core climbing community perceives this event: not as a step forward for alpinism, but as a media product.

As for the future of urban climbing as a legitimate sport:

I am optimistic. Decades ago, I predicted that climbing would one day grace the Olympic stage—a notion that was once dismissed but is now a reality. I am making a similar prediction today. I do not necessarily see us scaling skyscrapers for Olympic gold, but I do foresee the world’s elite climbers going head-to-head on iconic structures. I also believe we will see divisions for pure free climbing alongside aid categories that use technical gear, such as suction cups and skyhooks, on buildings and structures that cannot be free climbed.

Gripped: What do you think makes building soloing/climbing a unique and special objective just as desirable as summiting a mountain? (Assuming you feel that way)

Goodwin: It is different for every climber, just as every ascent is unique.

My own journey into the vertical world of skyscrapers began with a specific purpose. Initially, I climbed to raise global awareness of a critical safety gap: the inability of firefighters to effectively fight blazes or rescue individuals trapped in the upper levels of towering structures. This was advocacy through action. (For those interested in the historical context, I detail this extensively in the available preview chapters of my book, UNTETHERED.)

However, as is true with any climber’s path, my relationship with the rock—and in this case, the glass and steel—evolved. The pivotal moment came in 1982 in Caracas, with my first on-sight urban free solo. That climb was not just a physical feat; it was a transformational experience. It shifted my perspective from purely purposeful climbing to a pursuit of the sublime.

From that moment on, I was no longer just making a statement; I was searching for the next great line. That search is what ultimately led me to the CN Tower.

Gripped: Who should be the arbiter of norms/conventions/ethics in the area of building climbing and soloing? For example, the UIAA?

Goodwin: That is a fundamental question regarding the future of our discipline.

As urban climbing transitions from isolated feats to a recognized athletic pursuit, the need for stewardship becomes undeniable. To ensure the sport evolves safely and maintains its integrity, I believe establishing a formal governing body is the necessary next step. We must codify our ethics, standardize safety protocols, and legitimize the field of play.

With that in mind, I would welcome the opportunity to serve on such a board. I am ready to lend my historical perspective and decades of experience to help guide this sport into its next era.

Editor’s note: Gripped approached the UIAA and World Climbing (IFSC) if they were interested in commenting on this matter, but they did not reply before press deadline.

Gripped: In terms of distance, with two laps on CN’s elevator shaft, you’ve climbed more than Taipei 101. But I think the average viewer might see a bottom-to-spire ascent of Taipei as a taller objective. Climbing from the bottom to the top of a giant structure may seem like a bigger deal than doing two laps of a smaller route, even though the distance of the latter may be greater. What would you say to people who perceive that to be the case? Perhaps it’s time to establish different categories of “biggest” urban solo in this case?

Goodwin: If the metric is pre-event publicity, production value, and streaming reach, then Mr. Honnold’s upcoming ascent certainly holds the title. In the age of Netflix and social media, the audience numbers are undeniable. However, if we define “biggest” by historical significance and the purity of the ascent, the conversation shifts entirely.

My ascent of the CN Tower made global headlines in an era without the internet, cell phones, or viral algorithms. It captured the world’s imagination not because of a marketing budget, but because the feat itself was unprecedented. It was the first time the world witnessed an on-sight free solo of such a towering, futuristic structure. If “biggest” means impact relative to the era, history speaks for itself.

To understand why these two climbs belong in different categories, one must look at the technical details:

1. The Consequences: My ascent of the CN Tower followed the true tradition of extreme sports; it was a continuous exposure to fatal risk. By contrast, the architecture of Taipei 101 mitigates this risk every eight floors, removing the absolute “do or die” stakes.
2. On-Sight vs. Rehearsed: My climb was an ‘on-sight free solo,’ meaning I did not rehearse the moves on top-rope beforehand. In the highest levels of competitive climbing—including the Olympics—athletes are sequestered so they cannot watch others attempt the route. The on-sight is the gold standard of the sport. Mr. Honnold’s ascent, conversely, is a rehearsed performance. He has admitted to me, and to the press, that the route is wired.
3. The Continuity of the Wall: The CN Tower presented a continuous, unbroken elevator shaft of glass and steel for over 1,100 feet. It required sustained physical and mental endurance without respite. Taipei 101, as noted, offers a balcony every eight storeys—effectively breaking the climb into short, manageable segments.
4. The Ethics of Descent: In the traditional spirit of mountaineering, I rappelled back down the exterior of the tower twice during my ascent. Mr. Honnold plans to take the elevator down.

We can respect the athleticism of the Taipei 101 project while simultaneously acknowledging that it is a fundamentally different genre of climbing than the on-sight, high-stakes history that preceded it.

Regarding the vertical measurement:

The CN Tower in Toronto stands at 553.3 meters (1,815.5 feet).

Taipei 101 – 508 m (1,667 ft), 101-story

I have always believed that for a record to hold weight, it must be precise. I specifically instructed Guinness World Records not to include the spire in my height record, despite having photos at the summit. Spires are often climbed by maintenance workers and thrill-seekers; they do not represent the same technical challenge as the vertical face. I claimed only the top of the elevator shaft. However, in reviewing the archival footage, I must correct the record slightly in my favor: I did proceed past the glass, hand-over-handing up a steel cable with my feet smeared against the concrete to reach a small maintenance opening, where I could connect my rappelling equipment.

Ultimately, the “biggest” climb is not just about the altitude—it is about the exposure, the continuity of the challenge, and the consequence of the attempt.

Gripped: If we adopt distance climbed versus height of objective, that could set a perhaps undesirable precedent. Someone could make dozens of laps on a smaller structure and legitimately claim to have made the biggest urban solo if they climb a greater distance. But is there not something more special about climbing one taller objective in one go? Why or why not?

Goodwin: To many in the climbing community, Alex Honnold is doing just that: climbing a structure with a large balcony every eight floors. This structural difference allows for mental resets, physical recovery, and a mitigation of the “fear factor” that defines the discipline. You cannot compare a cumulative ascent where the risk is compartmentalized into eight-story increments to the magnitude of a continuous, on-sight free solo.

When I faced the CN Tower, it was 1,100 feet of unbroken verticality. There were no balconies to catch a fall. It was a sheer wall of glass and steel that demanded sustained focus and endurance from the ground to the summit. In alpinism, style matters. A route climbed in stages is not the same as a route climbed in a single, breathless push. To suggest otherwise is to ignore the physical and psychological reality of the climb.

If Alex wants to claim the top of the spire, I could claim the same and be even higher.

Gripped: Anything else you’d like to add?

Goodwin: The history of our sport is written in its ethics.

Back in the 1980s, the climbing community was not just a group of athletes; we were a culture guided by a strict code. I stood at the center of the “bolting wars,” where we debated—often fiercely—the purity of the stone and the style of the ascent. We understood that how you climbed was just as important as what you climbed.

I have watched with pride as our sport has evolved into a kaleidoscope of disciplines: from the adventurous spirit of trad to the gymnastics of sport climbing, the raw power of bouldering, the freedom of psicobloc, and now, the global stage of urban free soloing. Evolution is necessary.

But amidst all this change, one definition must remain immutable: the on-sight.

The on-sight is the gold standard of our interaction with the vertical world. It represents the climber meeting the unknown without a script. If anything positive is to come from this current debate, I hope we, as a community, take a moment to reaffirm our definitions.

We must clearly distinguish between a staged performance, a dress rehearsal perfected on top-rope where the variables are controlled, and a death defying performance, an on-sight free solo. One is a show; the other is “do or die.”

We can respect both, but we must never pretend they are the same.

Dan Goodwin’s ascent of the CN Tower below:

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