Stacey Chen, Derek, and Paradox ED Alex Kosseff on the summit of the First Flatiron. 📸 Sam Sala

More Than Climbing: A Conversation with Derek Riemer

A few weeks ago, I had the opportunity to climb the Direct East Face on Boulder’s First Flatiron with Derek Riemer, a blind climber and dedicated member of the Paradox community.

Spending a day on the rock with Derek got me thinking about the impact Paradox has had on his life—and the impact that climbing communities can have more broadly. Before one of our evening meetups in Golden, Colorado, I sat down with Derek to talk about climbing, community, and what keeps him coming back.

Finding Paradox

Unlike many Paradox participants, Derek didn’t discover climbing through an adaptive sports organization.

“When I could barely walk, I got away from my Mom at the park by climbing a fence,” he tells me, “and I used to crimp on the counters to grab things in the kitchen.” Obviously born a climber, Derek was lucky to have a formal introduction to the sport at an early age. “I’ve been climbing for about 20 years,” he explains, “I grew up climbing with family and friends.”

He first connected with Paradox after the pandemic, when another Paradox adaptive athlete invited him to a meetup. “Tanner Jones told me, ‘You should come check out our community.’ I’ve been part of it ever since.”

Today, it’s hard to imagine Derek not being part of Paradox. He’s a familiar presence at meetups, trips, ice climbing weekends, and community events.

More Than a Climbing Organization

When I asked Derek what has been most valuable about Paradox, he didn’t talk about a route, a summit, or a climbing grade.

“The community, honestly,” he said. “Some of my closest friends are people I met through Paradox. We climb together, camp together, paddleboard together, and spend time together outside of programs. It’s not just a climbing organization. It’s a community.”

That theme came up repeatedly throughout our conversation.

Derek talked about meeting climbing partners through Paradox, carpooling to remote climbing areas, camping together, and the informal conversations that happen after a day on the rock.

“A lot of adaptive organizations have people come, do a thing, and leave,” he explained. “But at Paradox, people stay connected. After meetups, people go grab a beer or a non-alcoholic drink. There’s no pressure, but people get to know each other beyond the belay commands.”

For Derek, that sense of connection is just as important as the climbing itself.

Chatting with the Paradox crew at Movement Boulder. PC Tristan Blommer Photography

Chatting with the Paradox crew at Movement Boulder. 📸 Tristan Blommer Photography

A Community That Assumes Possibility

As a blind climber, Derek has often encountered people who underestimate what he can do.

“There are times when you have to convince people that you can do something,” he said.

What makes Paradox different, in his view, is the culture.

“In the Paradox community, people tend to assume it’s possible.”

That mindset doesn’t just affect experienced climbers. Derek has watched new participants arrive uncertain about what they can do, only to discover they’re capable of far more than they imagined.

“I’ve seen plenty of people who didn’t think they could ever climb join and make it to an area. There’s a lot of encouragement. People coach each other. It’s not just instructors helping participants. People support each other.”

That support goes both ways. Participants belay volunteers. Experienced climbers mentor newcomers. New friendships form around campfires, climbing trips, and shared adventures.

“I’d never ice climbed before Paradox. Now I’m hoping to mock lead ice and work on screw placements next year. That’s only possible because Paradox brings people like (instructor) Dave Egan on trips — people who can teach movement non-visually. That’s what the community makes possible.”

Looking Ahead

Derek has ambitious climbing goals. He recently completed his first trad lead and hopes to continue developing those skills. He’s also become passionate about helping others discover what’s possible.

One idea he’d like to see Paradox explore is mentorship.

“The disability community is the only minority group you can join at any time,” he said. “It would be great to have mentors who can help people set goals, find partners, and get connected.”

His vision isn’t just about climbing harder routes. It’s about helping people find confidence, community, and a sense of belonging.

Derek’s recent first trad lead. PC Stacey Chen

Derek’s recent first trad lead. 📸 Stacey Chen

What Supporters Make Possible

Toward the end of our conversation, I asked Derek what he’d like supporters to understand about organizations like Paradox.

His answer wasn’t about ropes, climbing shoes, or even climbing itself.

“People often want every dollar to go directly to programs,” he said. “But the logistics and infrastructure matter too. Getting people to crags, organizing trips, training facilitators, and building community all take resources. That support is what makes these experiences possible.”

Today, Derek is leading trad routes, ice climbing, and dreaming about future adventures. But perhaps the most important thing Paradox has provided isn’t a climbing skill at all.

It’s a community.

And that’s exactly what we hope to build every time someone joins us at a meetup, signs up for a trip, volunteers at a program, or ties into a rope for the first time.

Scroll down for some more images of Derek and the Paradox community.

Note: This post is based on a longer conversation between Derek Riemer and Paradox Sports Executive Director Alex Kosseff. Quotes have been lightly edited for length and clarity, and portions of the interview have been condensed and reorganized for readability. This is not a verbatim transcript of the conversation.

Nearing the top of the Fang in Vail. PC: Derek Riemer Collection

Nearing the top of the Fang in Vail. 📸 Derek Riemer Collection

On Paradox’s inaugural trip to Moab, Utah this spring. 📸 Tristan Blommer Photography

Starting a route in Clear Creek Canyon, Colorado. PC Becky Lindstrom

Starting a route in Clear Creek Canyon, Colorado. 📸 Becky Lindstrom