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Why Spencer Gore decided it was time for Bedrock Materials to close up shop.

It wasn’t too long ago that the battery world was abuzz over sodium-ion batteries and their potential to be a cost-effective domestic competitor to the Chinese-dominated lithium-ion industry. The prevalence of sodium and the early-stage sodium-ion supply chain seemed to give the U.S. a shot at developing the next big battery for electric vehicles and energy storage systems.
But this past weekend, a promising sodium-ion startup called Bedrock Materials announced that it was shutting down and returning most of its $9 million seed funding to investors. The reason, according to CEO Spencer Gore? Its business model no longer made sense.
“We were responding to a very unique moment in the history of the battery industry,” Gore explained to me about his decision to start the company, which made cathode materials for sodium-ion batteries, in 2023. “Lithium prices had gone up about 10-fold, and so had other battery minerals by lesser degrees.” Experts predicted that the world was in for a long-term lithium shortage. Then the opposite happened: Lithium producers rapidly ramped up supply at the same time EV demand growth slowed, leading to oversupply and a 90% drop in price.
Before all of that happened, Bedrock saw the EV market as a good bet. Automakers were telling Gore that their first priority was lowering costs, and sodium-ion batteries seemed well positioned to help with that. The EV industry was also orders of magnitude larger than the battery storage market, and stood to benefit from the $7,500 consumer tax credit in the Inflation Reduction Act, which incentivizes the use of domestic minerals and battery components.
The election of Donald Trump threw the future of that tax credit into sudden doubt. The cratering raw minerals market, on the other hand, didn’t immediately translate into falling prices for lithium-iron-phosphate cathodes, the chemistry Gore saw as Bedrock’s main competitor, he told me. So long as this lasted, he thought, Bedrock’s business would be viable. But it didn’t.
“LFP prices have now crashed down to the point where it would almost be a viable business to extract the lithium from them and sell it on the open market,” Gore told me. “The active material producers are running single-digit margins. And so when that happened, it just became clear that the economic case for sodium had collapsed.”
Not everyone agrees that the domestic sodium-ion industry is doomed. Bay Area-based Peak Energy, for example, is still chugging away, and the company’s president and chief commercial officer, Cam Dales, told me he doesn’t expect to face the same headwinds as Bedrock. For one, Peak is targeting the sodium-ion energy storage market rather than the EV market, which means that energy density — sodium-ion’s weak point — is not as important a factor. Secondly, Peak is not in the business of producing battery materials, which Dales sees as an inherently risky and low-margin proposition. Rather, the company plans to produce battery cells domestically by 2028, while sourcing cathode and anode materials from other, ideally domestic, manufacturers.
So while the economic benefits of sodium-ion batteries have certainly diminished, Dales told me that the potential performance benefits — longer cycle life, greater efficiency, and ability to withstand high temperatures — are exceeding his initial expectations. Specifically, Peak is developing a cathode chemistry composed of sodium iron phosphate powder, which Dales claims will save customers money over the 20-year lifetime of a storage project, even if the upfront cost of sodium-ion battery cells is now higher than LFP. “System-level and project-level economics vastly outweigh smaller differences at the cell level,” Dales claimed.
The two industry leaders know each other well, as they used to work together at the lithium-ion battery manufacturer Enovix, where Dales was the chief commercial officer and Gore led the EV products team. Dales said he was bummed to learn of Bedrock’s closure, but not surprised. For domestic battery materials producers such as Bedrock to thrive, Dales told me, he thinks temporary policies that protect and nurture their growth will be necessary to ensure they’re not instantly outcompeted by Chinese incumbents.
“Absent that, it’s hard to see how you build a new materials company in the U.S. and compete against a fully scaled supply chain in China,” he told me.
Indeed, when I asked Gore if there was anything he wished he had done differently, he responded without hesitation, “I would have gone to China the very first day that I founded the company.” When he did visit months later, he said his main takeaway was that “most of the sodium-ion companies in China were producing material at scale, but losing money doing it,” even though they were “essentially producing sodium-ion materials on the exact same production lines that they had been using for lithium-ion materials.” The interchangeability of the two production processes made it crystal clear to Gore that Chinese battery giants such as CATL and BYD already had a tremendous advantage over the U.S., which doesn’t have scaled-up battery facilities.
This is why Gore now rejects the notion that the U.S. could win the race to scale up sodium-ion. “If you lost it for lithium-ion, you’ve already lost it for sodium. It’s the same thing, same equipment, same process.” Now he’s more interested in figuring out a way to facilitate a “once-in-a-generation” transfer of knowledge and technology between the U.S. and China. As it stands, he told me, “they’re 20 years ahead of the rest of the world, and we can’t even tie our own shoes.”
Ironically, bolstering domestic industry was the primary rationale behind Trump’s “Liberation Day” tariffs, which have since been put on pause for every nation except China, which will now be subject to 145% levies. And while Dales thinks tariffs would be a net-positive for his company, Gore told me he doesn’t expect them to help the domestic sodium-ion industry overall.
For one, tariffs will make the price of constructing domestic battery materials and cell facilities even more expensive than it already is relative to China. “So that’s one thing nudging us towards spreading out the factory costs over more energy dense cells,” Gore told me. Another incentive to optimize for energy density, tariffs or not, is the 45x tax credit, which gives cell manufacturers $35 per kilowatt-hour for domestically produced cells. “On a global basis, there’s a strong incentive for the most energy dense cells to be produced in the U.S.,” he argued.
While Peak will also have to contend with higher construction costs due to Trump’s tariffs as it builds out its sodium-ion cell production facility, the company’s customers are independent power producers and utilities that can pass cost increases onto ratepayers. This will mean higher electricity costs for Americans, which Dale acknowledged is not ideal, but he also told me, “I don’t think it actually affects our business that much.” While the company wouldn’t publicly disclose its partnerships, Dales said it’s “working with the majority of the large IPPs in the country,” as well as “a number of” utilities.
Gore thinks it’s possible that the sodium-ion performance advantages Peak is betting on will prove to be compelling for customers and investors in the energy storage space. It’s just not a bet he was willing to take. While Bedrock did explore pivoting into the energy storage market, Gore said he concluded that LFP batteries could likely be engineered to achieve the same cycle life, efficiency, and operating temperature benefits that Dales thinks makes sodium-ion stand out.
“Ultimately, we failed to find a niche where we thought that sodium was the best product,” Gore told me. Some investors were initially reluctant to accept that. They encouraged Bedrock to keep going, to pivot, to place a different bet. They had certainly never had a founder try and give back money before, Gore said. But to him, it just made good sense.
“It’s still possible that we would have succeeded,” he told me. “But I think that the likely size of the success and the likelihood of a success, given everything that we’ve now learned, is considerably smaller. The best expected value for us and for our investors was to simply return their money.”
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Current conditions: Severe thunderstorms are drenching the American South from New Orleans to Virginia Beach • Mount Mayon has forced thousands to evacuate within the Philippines’ Bicol peninsula • Temperatures in Denver are poised to plunge from about 75 degrees Fahrenheit yesterday to 39 degrees today with a chance of snow.

The North American Electric Reliability Corporation, the quasi-governmental watchdog that monitors the health of the power grids that span the United States and Canada, has issued a rare Level 3 warning. The alert, announced Monday, marks only the third time NERC has put out a notice with that degree of severity in its 58-year history. The warning comes on the heels of reports that data centers abruptly went offline in Virginia and Texas, prompting concerns of potential blackouts. “Computational loads, such as data centers, could increase exponentially in the next four years,” NERC said in a draft of the alert, adding that “significant risks” to the power network “need to be addressed through immediate industry action.” Lee Shaver, a senior energy analyst at the Union of Concerned Scientists, told E&E News that NERC’s action was a “big deal.”
The California Energy Commission has issued an administrative investigative subpoena to Golden State Wind seeking documents and information related to the company’s recent deal with the U.S. Department of the Interior to take a payout in exchange for abandoning its offshore wind lease. Last week, the developer announced a deal to scrap its lease in the Morro Bay Wind Energy off the central California coast for $120 million as part of the Trump administration’s efforts to kill off an industry he failed to destroy through regulatory fiat alone. The facility was supposed to be California’s first offshore wind farm, and planned to use floating turbines to account for the steep continental shelf dropoff on the nation’s Pacific Coast. Now the administration’s latest “shady deal” is drawing scrutiny from state regulators. “The Trump Administration is recklessly spending billions of taxpayer dollars on backroom deals that would turn back the clock on innovation,” David Hochschild, the chairman of the California Energy Commission, said in a statement. “Californians deserve immediate answers about the nature of this payout. Taxpayer dollars should be used to build a sustainable energy future, not to pay to make projects disappear.”
Meanwhile, California’s grid operator has switched on a new regional electricity market as part of what E&E News called “a major milestone in the yearslong push to expand energy trading” across the American West. The California Independent System Operator launched its new Extended Day-Ahead Market early Friday morning, allowing California’s investor-owned utilities and the Northwestern giant PacifiCorp, whose coverage area spans two million customers across six states, to trade electricity on the regional market for the first time. “The West is rich with a diverse mix of renewable resources, and this market will capture their potential,” Michael Colvin, director of the California energy program at the Environmental Defense Fund, said in a statement. “Through better sharing of cheap, clean energy beyond state borders, the market will cut household bills, reduce reliance on expensive, polluting fossil plants and build a grid that's bigger than any single extreme weather event.”
For nearly as long as there have been nuclear power plants, there have been thorium bulls insisting the metal is a better fuel than uranium. In most places, the thorium dream faded long ago as ample new sources of uranium were discovered. But China revived the thorium race in 2023, when its experimental molten salt reactor powered by the metal split atoms for the first time. Now the only serious contender in the entire West looking to commercialize thorium is a Chicago-based company taking an unusual approach. Rather than creating a whole new kind of reactor to run on thorium, Clean Core Thorium Energy has designed fuel assemblies that blend thorium with a special kind of uranium fuel and work in existing reactors without any modifications. Clean Core’s technology only works, at least for now, in pressurized heavy water reactors, which make up the bulk of the fleets in Canada and India, though the U.S. has none in operation. But the key verb there is that: It works. On Tuesday, I can exclusively report for this newsletter, Clean Core plans to announce that its patented fuel completed a high burnup irradiation test at Idaho National Laboratory’s Advanced Test Reactor. The fuel burnup represented “more than eight times the typical” output from the traditional uranium fuel used in pressurized heavy water reactors. The latest test “provides meaningful performance data” and demonstrates that Clean Core’s fuel “achieve burnup levels comparable to those seen in PWR fuels while offering improved fuel utilization, enhanced safety characteristics, inherent proliferation resistance, and meaningful reductions in long-lived nuclear spent fuel radioisotopes,” Mehul Shah, Clean Core’s chief executive, told me in a statement. “Our objective has been to introduce thorium into the nuclear fuel cycle in a practical way using existing reactors, and this milestone represents a significant step toward that goal.”
It’s the latest good news for Clean Core. Last month, as I reported for Heatmap, the company inked a deal with the Canadian National Laboratories to manufacture its first commercial fuel assemblies.
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In July 2017, South Carolina abandoned its $9 billion expansion of the V.C. Summer Nuclear Station, leaving ratepayers holding the bag and utility executives facing prison time for lying about the project’s viability. Now the pair of Westinghouse AP1000s planned at the site are making a comeback. On Monday, Westinghouse-owner Brookfield Asset Management formed a new joint venture with The Nuclear Company, a reactor construction manager, to work together on building more Westinghouse reactors such as the AP1000 or the smaller version, the AP300. V.C. Summer is the likely first project. “Our team was built on the field of Vogtle and on some of the most complex energy projects in the world,” Joe Klecha, The Nuclear Company’s chief nuclear officer, said in a statement. “We know what it takes to deliver nuclear. What’s been missing is a model that brings together the people, the capabilities, and the capital to do it at speed and scale. That’s what this partnership creates.” The announcement comes as the Trump administration meets with utility executives to discuss funding deals to build the 10 new large-scale reactors President Donald Trump ordered the Department of Energy to facilitate construction on by 2029, as Heatmap’s Robinson Meyer reported. Completing 10 AP1000s would give the U.S. economy a trillion-dollar boost, per a PricewaterhouseCoopers report Westinghouse released in March.
That’s not the only nuclear developer making deals. On Tuesday morning, Blue Energy, another startup focused on serving as a project developer for existing reactor designs, announced a partnership with GE Vernova to work on building the world’s first gas-plus-nuclear plant in Texas. The 2.5-gigawatt project would include GE Vernova’s gas turbines and its BWRX-300 small modular reactors through its joint venture with Hitachi. “Innovative projects like this one will help advance the future of nuclear power and meet the surging demand for electricity,” Scott Strazik, GE Vernova’s chief executive, said in a statement.
Steel, if you’re unfamiliar, is made in two big steps. Traditionally, iron ore is melted down in a coal-fired blast furnace, then forged into steel in a basic oxygen furnace. New plants typically run on something called direct reduced iron, which uses natural gas to turn the ore into iron, then made into steel in an electric arc furnace. The latter process is far cleaner. It can even be green, if the natural gas is swapped for green hydrogen and the electric arc furnace is powered by renewables or nuclear reactors. Nearly 40% of all global clean steel investments to date are hydrogen-powered DRI facilities. That’s according to new data from the Rhodium Group, which released its latest estimates Tuesday. Another 57% of investments are gas-powered DRI plants. While Europe has so far dominated investment into hydrogen DRI, “the region will likely see relatively little demand growth for iron over the coming decades,” the report found. In the fastest growing regions, such as India, Africa, and South America, “most new demand is being met with traditional, fossil-based ironmaking technologies, which risks locking in emissions for decades.” The consultancy’s modeling shows that clean steel supply capacity is on track to exceed demand by between 1.8 and 4.3 times by 2030, “risking a collapse of the nascent industry, where existing projects cannot find buyers and scale production to drive down costs.”
It may be time for a new New Orleans. The city has reached a “point of no return” that will see it surrounded by ocean within decades as climate change worsens. That’s the conclusion of a new paper in the journal Nature Sustainability. “In paleo-climate terms, New Orleans is gone; the question is how long it has,” Jesse Keenan, an expert in climate adaptation at Tulane University and one of the paper’s five co-authors, told The Guardian.
A ubiquitous byproduct of the oil and gas industry just got a green competitor.
The chemicals industry, which accounts for about 5% of global emissions, can seem like a black box. Fossil fuel-based feedstocks go in and out pop plastic toys or agricultural fertilizer or laundry detergent. But most of us don’t understand what happens in between. That’s the part of the supply chain where Trillium Renewable Chemicals is focused, as it scales production of bio-based acrylonitrile, a key chemical intermediate used to make products ranging from carbon fiber aircraft components to plastic Lego bricks and rubber medical gloves.
Though you might not have heard of this mouthful of a chemical, acrylonitrile’s production is a major contributor to the embedded emissions of all the products that it goes into, as it’s typically derived from propylene, a byproduct of the oil and gas industry. “When you look at the lifecycle analysis of these products, the thing that jumps off the page is acrylonitrile dominates that lifecycle,” Trillium’s CEO, Corey Tyree, told me. “It is the number one challenge.”
The startup, which spun out of a Department of Energy-funded nonprofit called the Southern Research Institute, just announced a $13 million Series B round led by HS Hyosung Advanced Materials, alongside the completion of the world’s first demonstration plant for bio-based acrylonitrile. Tyree was determined, he told me, to ensure that the work did not remain just another “research project that goes in the research closet.”
He credits much of Trillium’s progress so far to an intense focus on commercialization and the risk-tolerance inherent to a startup. After all, the underlying concept itself isn’t new — a number of companies have experimented with making acrylonitrile from bio-based glycerol, Tryee told me. “But a lot of these tries happen inside of a large company, which is not as tolerant for risk,” he explained. With Trillium’s investors lined up behind the effort, however, “It doesn’t feel to any one person that if we’re wrong, our whole career is going to go up in flames.”
But there have been technical innovations too. Southern Research had to develop a proprietary catalyst and two-step thermochemical process that converts glycerol into an intermediate molecule and then acrylonitrile. Trillium now has an exclusive license to this process. Once produced, the low-carbon acrylonitrile functions as a simple drop-in replacement for the fossil-based version of the molecule; there's nothing at all different about the downstream supply chain.
Now, the startup is focused on commissioning its newly completed demonstration plant in Texas sometime this quarter, followed by initial shipments soon after. This new capital will also help Trillium conduct the engineering design for its first commercial facility, the potential location of which Tyree would not disclose.
Though glycerol is a relatively cost-effective feedstock, Trillium’s product will still command somewhat of a green-premium, though exactly how much this impacts the final cost of the end product depends on a variety of downstream factors. At the least, Tryee said his company ought to undercut existing green acrylonitrile on the market today, which is produced from low-carbon propylene.
Overall, It’s a promising sign that despite a political environment in which talking about climate is out and affordability is in, a company like Trillium — which depends on customers paying a bit more for a cleaner product — can still raise significant new funding. Political winds aside, Tyree said he’s seen sustained customer interest in cleaning up the chemicals supply chain; there just wasn’t a viable solution for this particular piece of it before now.
“It’s really just been people waiting on somebody to figure out a way to make the product,” he said, referring to low-carbon acrylonitrile“ Now that Trillium has done so, the next question is, who will its initial buyers be, and exactly how much more will they prove willing to pay?
It is a cliché that everyone in the insurance industry believes in climate change. But the same can certainly be said of those in the mountain-guiding business.
May marks the beginning of the recreational mountaineering season on Washington’s Mount Rainier, the most popular technical climb in the country. But for many of the guide companies that take clients up the mountain, the last day of the 2026 commercial climbing season remains an ominous unknown. “We used to run a season through the end of September typically,” Jonathon Spitzer, the director of operations at Alpine Ascents, which has offered guided climbs of Rainier since 2006, told me. “For four of the last five years, we’ve ended around Labor Day or so” due to poor snow conditions on the mountain — meaning a loss of about 20% of the historic season.
In the spring and summer, when the vast majority of Rainier’s 10,000 or so annual climbers attempt to reach the summit, the weather begins to mellow, avalanche danger lessens, and crevasses remain mostly covered. But ideally the mountain should still be frozen hard. A firm snowpack provides crampons and ice axes with the best purchase, allowing climbers to stick to steep slopes without sliding, while reducing the danger of ice and rockslides. Accidents and falls increase when climbing on loose dirt, slush, and rock, as well as when navigating exposed blue glacier ice, which is normally covered in snow and otherwise extremely slick.
Yet high-mountain areas, known as the cryosphere, are warming up to twice as fast as the global average. Rainier has lost half its ice since 1896, with most of that loss occurring in recent years; three of its 29 glaciers have disappeared since 2021. Researchers last fall went as far as to assert that the 14,410-foot mountain is now 10 feet shorter than it was in 1998 due to a rocky outcropping replacing its former highest point, a mound of ice that has since melted away.
For the guides working on Rainier, the weather in April and May sets the stage for the rest of the season, when spring storms ideally dump the snow needed for the summer climbs. “It doesn’t really matter what happens in December, January, February,” Spitzer told me, since winter snow is dry and blows off the summit rather than accumulates. Alpine Ascents had guides on the summit of Rainier last week who reported that the upper mountain has a lot of snow, but Spitzer cautioned that the character of the season ahead is still uncertain. “It’s been really dry in April,” he noted.
And it’s not looking good for May, either. Temperatures in the Puget Sound region are 20 to 25 degrees above average to start the month, a kind of final exclamation point on the wickedly warm winter and ongoing snow drought across the West. The Cascade mountain basins have only around 29% of their historic median snow-water equivalent, the metric used to measure snowpack and provide insight into runoff, water availability, and the fire season ahead. Tom Vogl, the CEO of the Mountaineers, a Seattle-based alpine club that offers local climbing courses, told me that “100%, with almost no uncertainty, we’re going to have a shorter climbing season on Washington peaks this year.”
In Oregon and northern California, where Lassen Peak sits at the southern end of the Cascades’ volcanic backbone, the snow-water equivalent median is as low as 1% in places. “Mount Hood is a mess right now,” Graham Zimmerman, a professional alpinist and the athlete alliance manager at Protect Our Winters, told me.
Zimmerman was on Oregon’s highest peak in February to climb Arachnophobia, a challenging route, and he told me that on “significant sections of the south side of the mountain, up high on the final summit, we were walking on dirt.” Though Zimmerman isn’t a guide himself, many of his friends are, and for “the core season up there in June, it’s going to be pretty intense,” he predicted. “There’s not going to be a lot of ice, it’s going to be pretty dirty, and when those mountains start to thaw out, they get pretty dang crumbly, and that’s going to create a risk for those going up there.”
Think of a mountain like a scoop of Rocky Road in an ice cream cone. Fresh out of the freezer, the scoop holds its shape because everything is frozen in place — but as it starts to melt, marshmallows and nuts begin to slough down the sides.
Except on a mountain, it’s not marshmallows and nuts but avalanches and rockfall. In addition to being a life-or-death hazard in the moment — and top-of-mind for the risk-averse concessioners guiding otherwise oblivious novice clients — the debris on a warming mountain can close routes to the peak, crowding the ones that remain. “When you have a bunch of people on a route, it doesn’t make things safer,” Zimmerman said. “It makes things more dangerous because people knock stuff onto each other, and because it slows things down.”
Even as the season shortens due to inadequate snowpack, more and more people are trying to climb on an ever-smaller number of viable days. That puts additional pressure on the guides, whose clients take time off from work and pay thousands of dollars for the chance to summit within a predetermined window, even as conditions overall become more dangerous.
This strain is particularly visible in the Himalayas, where photos of the conga line headed to the top of Everest go viral every few years. This season, icefall from a glacier closed the route to the world’s highest point for more than a week, with more icefall anticipated, adding to concerns about queues.
Iconic climbs in the Alps are also a mess due to warming weather and snow shortages. Spitzer, of Alpine Ascents, used to guide on Mont Blanc from June through September, but these days, many guides in the Alps stop around July 15 and resume again in mid- to late-August, when the mountains start to firm up again, because the height of summer in Europe is so hot. “The mountains are dynamic right now,” Spitzer said, and “it’s not just here in Washington. We’re seeing it globally.”
This raises, perhaps, the question of “so what?” Mountaineering is a niche, expensive, and often elite pastime. But a low summer snowpack has knock-on effects: “We expect to see pretty significant impacts on [gateway] communities, not just from the perspective of water availability but also how that relates to guiding businesses, water sports, water recreation, and the outdoor industry, which is really big in the West,” Erin Sprague, the CEO of Protect Our Winters, told me. Rafting guides, for example, could also see abbreviated seasons, hurting their bottom line. Outdoor retailers like REI could see sales slump if it’s a particularly bad fire year, keeping people off the trails.
That’s not to mention that 75% of the West gets its water from snowpack, meaning what happens in the mountains will impact even those for whom sweat, bugs, chance bear encounters, and walking uphill for hours sounds like personal torment.
“It’s not just about mountaineers and climbers who experience the glaciers in a more direct way for recreational purposes — it literally touches every person who lives in the Northwest,” Vogl, the Mountaineers CEO, told me. “This should matter.”
It does to me. In 2021, a few weeks after the Pacific Northwest heat dome, I summited Mount Rainier with my dad on the 50th anniversary of his first climb of the mountain when he was 14. In 1971, August 12 had been the peak of the Cascade climbing season; in 2021, we climbed in a haze of wildfire smoke and almost didn’t make it to the summit because of the warm conditions on the mountain. (Vogl, who was leading a trip on the other side of Rainier around the same time, said exposed blue ice and running water were directly responsible for an accident in his group that resulted in a broken femur and required a helicopter evacuation.) Stripped down to my base layers during the descent from the peak, I watched a boulder the size of a minivan come off a rock across the glacier from where we were climbing. In other spots, we had to balance across ladders laid over crevasses so deep you couldn’t see their bottom.
Last fall, I gave birth to my daughter, and I’ve been thinking about what the mountain will look like in August 2071, on the 100th anniversary of her grandfather’s first summit and the 50th of mine. When I asked Vogl what he thought, I expected something optimistic from the CEO of an organization focused on getting people outdoors. But he sounded crestfallen. “Some of the climbs that I’ve done with my kids, I doubt that they’ll be able to do them with their kids because the conditions are going to change so dramatically,” he said.
I also asked Zimmerman, the accomplished alpinist, what he thought about the future of his sport. He meditated on the question throughout our conversation, only to circle back to it at the end. “I don’t think that people are going to stop climbing,” he finally said. “But I think that people are going to need to come to terms with the fact that we’re living in a changing climate.”
“We’re going to have to continue to adapt, to be smart, to really focus on situational awareness while we’re out there,” he went on. The sense of adventure and risk inherent to climbing won’t just be about first ascents and “going to places where people haven’t necessarily been before,” he predicted — because “even the places we have been are changing.”