By Rob Shaul
MTI Athlete Wyatt Jobe, is an experienced climber and paramedic based in Valdez, Alaska. For the mountain athlete familiar with Alaska’s conditions, Jobe’s approach to climbing, ski mountaineering, and risk management is both pragmatic and relentless. His Climbing ethos is straightforward: endure, adapt, and come back alive.
Wyatt was recently on the MTI Podcast. Below are highlights from that conversation. You can listen or watch the full podcast HERE.
Building a Life in Valdez’s Harsh Landscape
“The community here is small—there are about 3,000 people in town, and roughly 15 of us who climb and ski mountaineer seriously year-round,” Jobe explains. Despite its small size, Valdez attracts big names and seasoned climbers every season. The town’s proximity to world-class terrain is undeniable: Keystone Canyon offers five-pitch WI5 climbs literally steps from the highway, and elsewhere in the region, ski mountaineers find lifetime projects a snowmobile ride away. “With a sled, your access explodes—you’re looking at four lifetimes’ worth of lines,” says Jobe.
While many are drawn to Valdez for powder skiing and heli-ski operations, Jobe’s pursuits skew toward the technical and committing. “Most people are here for the spines and powder. I’m more interested in the alpine lines that intersect with ski mountaineering—routes that require climbing up technical terrain before you ski down,” he says. His preference for multi-sport days—linking climbs with technical ski descents—aligns with the ethos of self-sufficiency and creativity that defines Alaska mountaineering.
Risk Management and Decision Making
Jobe is no stranger to high-risk environments. He’s worked as a remote paramedic across Alaska’s oil fields, mining operations, and Native villages, and spent seven months in Antarctica supporting scientific expeditions. “Down there, my job was to teach researchers how to move safely in glaciated terrain. I was also on call for worst-case scenarios—if a plane or helicopter went down, we were the contingency plan,” he says. These experiences have deeply informed his risk assessment in the mountains.
“Dying climbing? That’s just stupid. I’m here to come back and do another route, not to be reckless. You mitigate what you can. Sometimes that means waiting out three days in a snow cave because the weather window closed. I’d rather be uncomfortable than dead,” he states bluntly.
He’s learned these lessons firsthand. On an ice climb with his partner in Valdez, a wind slab released above them. “I had this internal panic—hair on the back of my neck standing up. Thirty seconds later, we got hit by a D2 avalanche while I was lowering her off the pitch. I held onto the brake strand with everything I had. That one shook me up. It’s a constant reminder not to let complacency sneak in.”
Strength, Creativity, and Technical Development
At 29, Jobe’s physical base remains a cornerstone of his approach. “I lean on my strength. I know I can push for three days without food or water if I have to. That’s my fallback when everything else goes wrong,” he says. Yet he’s quick to acknowledge the importance of evolving his technical skills. “Right now, I overpower routes, especially on ice. I’ll just hang there and muscle through, but that’s not sustainable. I’m working on using my feet more—it’s a process.”
His climbing style favors exploration and creative route-finding. “A peak is like a puzzle. I’m always looking at the weaknesses in the rock and snow, finding a way up that isn’t obvious. It’s problem-solving on a massive scale. You stand at the bottom and think, ‘How can I?’ Not, ‘Can I?’ That mindset shift is everything,” he explains.
Equipment: Efficiency Over Trends
Jobe’s gear philosophy is utilitarian and rooted in efficiency. “If you can’t trust your equipment, you’re setting yourself up to fail. I’ve modified my boots, drilled holes, and rigged bungees to get what I need. I use a Dyneema shell from Hyperlite that packs down to the size of an apple—fully waterproof and windproof. It’s basically a portable shelter. People laugh when I call it my house, but in Alaska, that jacket can save your life,” he says.
When it comes to gloves and socks, Jobe voices the same frustrations familiar to any Alaskan mountaineer: nothing holds up long. “I burn through gloves and socks every season. Ice climbing destroys gear—period. If someone ever figures out a glove that lasts more than two months, I’ll buy stock in that company.”
Looking Ahead: Alaska, Antarctica, and Uncharted Lines
Though Jobe has climbed in India and aims for bigger Himalayan objectives, Alaska remains his proving ground. “The mountains here are cold and technical—conditions are 8,000-meter weather without the altitude. This place forces you to level up,” he says. Ultimately, his dream is to return to Antarctica for an independent climbing expedition. “That’s where my imagination goes wild. Icebergs, vertical alpine routes, and lines no one’s touched—it’s the ultimate playground. I’ve been applying for American Alpine Journal grants for years. It’ll happen.”
Mindset: Fortitude, Humility, and Flow
For Jobe, the mountains are both a testing ground and a source of clarity. “Everything slows down up there. You can’t fake it in the mountains—you’re exposed, physically and mentally. You’re dealing with your fears head-on. That’s the appeal. You solve problems in real time. There’s no shortcut,” he explains.
He acknowledges that ego has no place in true alpinism. “If you look at something and think, ‘I might not come back,’ you don’t go. Period. There’s no summit worth your life. The mountains will still be there next season. You might not.”