First off, full respect to Alex Honnold. On January 25, 2026 (local time), he free-soloed Taipei 101 during Netflix’s live Skyscraper Live broadcast. No ropes. No harness. No backup. At 40 years old, he climbed roughly 1,667 feet in about an hour and a half, took a summit selfie in the wind, called it “sick,” and came down safely.
That alone deserves respect. One mistake at that height and it’s over. I couldn’t do it. Most people couldn’t. Pulling it off live, with the world watching, takes an elite mental game.
But here’s the honest take: watching it didn’t land the way his El Capitan free solo did. Not even close.
Why It Felt Different
Taipei 101 is not a sheer, featureless glass monolith. It’s a bamboo-inspired, pagoda-style structure made up of stacked sections with overhangs, ledges, and repeating architectural elements. Honnold himself described the climb as a repeating rhythm of “easy, easy, hard,” over and over again.
Those design features matter.
Every few floors, there were horizontal balconies and no-hands rest spots where he could shake out, recover, and reset. The facade offered predictable seams, panel edges, sidepulls, and protrusions that repeated consistently. This wasn’t chaotic, natural rock where conditions change move to move. It was engineered, symmetrical, and forgiving.
Instead of a relentless vertical fight, it felt more like a long endurance effort broken into manageable pitches.
The Ladder Question
Then there’s the spire.
Near the top, Honnold transitioned onto a free-swinging ladder installed for maintenance because parts of that narrow overhang are essentially impossible to climb directly. Commentators acknowledged the ladder was necessary. That matters.
Using a ladder doesn’t negate the climb. But it does change the nature of the risk. A slip near the end doesn’t mean a full-height free fall. You’re close to observation decks and mechanical levels. There’s a built-in margin that simply doesn’t exist on natural big wall free solos.
Context Matters
Compare this to El Capitan, where Honnold faced unpredictable granite, microscopic smears, real cruxes, and zero engineered recovery zones. That climb felt raw, unforgiving, and existential in a way Taipei 101 just didn’t.
Or compare it to Alain Robert, who climbed Taipei 101 back in 2004 with ropes and safety gear because authorities required it. Robert has long said skyscrapers are often safer and simpler than natural rock. Watching this, it’s hard to argue otherwise.
Taipei 101 is almost the perfect building for a stunt like this. Repeating patterns. Generous ledges. Predictable holds. Earthquake- and typhoon-engineered features that just happen to make it climbable.
The Bottom Line
This isn’t about saying it was easy. It wasn’t. The exposure is terrifying. The commitment is real. Honnold is still operating at a level almost no one else on Earth can touch.
But the headlines oversold the danger compared to what was actually happening on the wall. The building did a lot of the work. It was impressive, but not mind-blowing.
Judging by quiet chatter online, I don’t think I’m alone in feeling this way. Plenty of climbers and viewers respect the achievement while privately admitting it didn’t hit like El Cap. Buildings are engineered. Rock is not.
Congrats to Honnold. He’s a legend.
But for me, this one was more fascinating than jaw-dropping.
