Heather at Givler’s Dome in Leavenworth, Washington in 2006.
At Access Fund, our team members come from all walks of life—engineers, environmentalists, and lifelong adventurers who have turned their passions into purpose. Executive Director Heather Thorne embodies that path. Before leading Access Fund, Heather worked on the U.S.–Russian space program, earned a patent on a sleeping bag design, launched social enterprises in Africa and sustainability initiatives at Google, and climbed her way through granite, glaciers, and life transitions on multiple continents.
We sat down with Heather to talk about her unconventional path to climbing advocacy, her years abroad finding community and adventure, and how those experiences continue to shape her leadership and vision for the future of Access Fund.
Q: Can you tell us about your first climbing experience and what drew you in?
Heather: It happened in 1995 or ’96, when I was living in Houston after college—far from the mountains I grew up around in the Pacific Northwest. I hadn’t climbed before, but I was always climbing trees, biking, and exploring in nature. A coworker and I went to a local gym, and soon I was invited to climb at Enchanted Rock in central Texas. I still remember the clear water running through small streams, the granite slabs, and that sense of wonder—like I’d discovered a secret key to a magical world. Houston was flat, humid, and sprawling, so finding a way to connect with nature again was life-changing. That was it for me. I was hooked.
After three years working on the space program, I took a job in Moscow. I brought my climbing shoes, harness, and chalk bag, hoping I’d find somewhere to climb. I had studied Russian in college, but not surprisingly hadn't learned the words for “rock climbing gym”! Eventually, I found this Soviet-era gym that had been at its peak in the ’70s. It was faded and crumbling, a shadow of its former self. But when I walked in, I felt the palpable buzz of people with passion, motivation and purpose, and thought, this is my place. These are my people.
At a time when I didn’t have many friends or much of a social life, the climbing community became my anchor.
Q: When you returned to the U.S., what drew you to climbing in Washington?
Heather: Coming home was a reset. I moved to Portland, started climbing at Portland Rock Gym, and took my first trip to Smith Rock. Later, I headed to grad school in Philadelphia and, honestly, didn’t climb much for five years.
Then a backpacking trip to Utah rekindled everything. Touching the rough, red sandstone triggered a visceral response—something was missing from my life and I knew what it was. I got home, joined Vertical World, and started climbing again—soon venturing into the North Cascades. My first trad climb was the Beckey Route on Liberty Bell in Washington Pass.
Q: Index is such a storied crag in American climbing. How did the experience of almost losing access shape your views on stewardship and advocacy?
Heather on the sharp end at the Inner Wall, Index, Washington in 2009.
Heather: Index had an intimidating reputation for sandbagged grades and technical movement, but I ultimately fell in love with the thin cracks and fine grit sandpaper texture of those beautiful granite walls. One weekend in 2008, we showed up to find a “No Trespassing” sign on the trail. That was shocking—this place we’d taken for granted suddenly wasn’t accessible.
That closure became a turning point. I had been climbing with Doug Walker, who, along with Dan Nordstrom—longtime Access Fund supporters—worked with the Washington Climbers Coalition to launch what became the Climbing Conservation Grant Program. Index Lower Town Wall was the first project funded through it, and I still have the T-shirt from that fundraiser—it reminds me how climbers can rally to protect what we love.
At that point, I was still in the “taking” phase of my climbing life—working a lot, getting outside every weekend, not yet giving back. Every climber has a lifecycle: we fall in love with climbing, but not every climber feels the pull to give back right away. Access Fund understands that—we want to meet people where they are, inspiring and empowering climbers to care for these places by volunteering, donating, and speaking up when issues threaten climbing and public lands.
Q: You’ve had a pretty nontraditional career path. What brought you to Access Fund?
Heather: I've always been guided by curiosity and a desire for purpose, not an explicit career goal. I started in international relations—working on the Shuttle–Mir and International Space Station programs—then moved into global development and eventually strategy and sustainability at Google.
Each move brought me closer to work that felt like my calling. I loved leading teams and building systems to solve complex problems, but I wanted my work to feel deeply meaningful. When the Access Fund opportunity came up, it felt like all the threads of my life—climbing, environmentalism, leadership—finally converged. It was that “bell ringing” moment.
Q: How do your roots as a climber influence the way you lead Access Fund today?
Heather in Red River Gorge, Kentucky in 2024.
Heather: Climbing has been part of my identity for 30 years, even when it was separate from my professional life. It parallels how I process challenges—problem-solving, risk management, trust, and optimism all in one.
I think a lot about how Access Fund can remain relevant to both new climbers and the lifers who’ve been here from the start. The sport has exploded, and more people are coming in without a deep sense of its history. Part of my job is bridging that gap—making sure Access Fund feels like home and our work matters to everyone who calls themselves a climber, no matter how long they’ve been at it.
Q: What’s your message to climbers who haven’t yet gotten involved in advocacy?
Heather: It’s never too late. I wish I’d gotten involved sooner. For years, I thought, I’ll climb now and give back later. But advocacy isn’t something to put off—it’s part of the experience.
Also try to appreciate the places you climb before there's a threat. Take a moment to think about who’s doing the work to protect these crags, and consider how you can show up for them. Whether it’s time, money, or your voice, your contribution keeps these places open and thriving for all of us.
Your contribution doesn’t have to be huge. Maybe it’s volunteering a few hours for a trail day, writing a comment letter, or becoming a member of Access Fund and your Local Climbing Organization. Every action contributes to your role in the ecosystem of climbing advocacy and truly makes a difference. By contributing in even a small way, you’re becoming a part of something bigger and telling the people doing this work that it matters, and they should keep doing it!
Q: What excites you most about where Access Fund is headed?
Heather: The team. We have such an incredible group of people—experts, storytellers, advocates—all driven by this shared mission. The PARC Act victory last year was a major moment. It showed that a small organization with a passionate community and dedicated local partners can have national impact.
Even with all the challenges ahead, I’m excited about how we’re being called on by federal agencies to lead—filling gaps, building partnerships, and proving that climbers can be powerful voices for public lands.
Access Fund team trail work day at Thumb Open Space in Estes Park, Colorado 2025.