How Climber Pedro Hoffmeister Views His Brain Injury As A Second Childhood

By Arwen Thomas

Photos by Lucas Carroll

On a brisk February morning at Skinner’s Butte Columns, the moisture-laden, rounded rock faced out towards West Eugene, Oregon, where the rolling horizon met the vast sky. Everything felt still, but warm breath filled the bitter air.

With his flat-brim Portland Trail Blazers cap snug on his head, Eugene climber Pedro Hoffmeister meticulously ascended a crack. He carried cams, slings, carabiners, and a purple and red Metolius chalk bag clipped onto his harness’ gear loops. His chalky hands found points of contact and friction, and a twisting knee locked his wedged feet into place. 

Hoffmeister inserted camming devices as he maneuvered one of the many lines crawling up the basaltic columns. Instead of clipping into preplaced bolts, he secured himself with these spring-loaded devices that, if inserted firmly into a pocket or crack, wouldn’t pop out even with a great shock load. He was trad climbing – trad meaning traditional.

It was at the Columns six years ago that Hoffmeister set the third fastest time in the world for climbing a distance equivalent to that of El Capitan. El Cap is a sheer granite, vertical rock face in Yosemite Valley that is arguably the locus of contemporary rock climbing. 

The 2,900-foot nose of El Cap is equivalent to 64 laps at the Columns. In May 2019, Hoffmeister went head-to-head at the Columns against Hans Florine, who holds the record number of ascents on El Cap, and came out victorious. Hoffmeister set a new personal record of two hours, five minutes, and 55 seconds, which put him in the bracket of world-class endurance climbers.

Hoffmeister’s unyielding presence at the Columns for over two decades suggests he may know the rocks better than anyone. It has been 25 years since he first climbed the Columns, but he’s still eyeing potential first ascents and projecting new lines at the roughly 50-foot by 100-foot rock face.

Since Hoffmeister began his climbing journey in the early 2000s, he has lived a wide range of disparate yet interconnected lives. His name can be found on fiction book covers and still lingers in the halls of South Eugene High School, where he used to teach. He’s a prolific writer, an obsessed climber, a former educator, and an outdoors buff — and he brings the same enthusiastic and engaged demeanor to all of it. 

“Even though it seems like a totally different thing: being present in climbing, or being present while you’re writing, or being present as a parent, they’re all the same,” says Hoffmeister. “It’s putting away distractions, focusing and valuing the person in front of you, or the character in front of you, or the climb in front of you.”

Hoffmeister’s story is one colored by adversity and adaptation. In December 2014, on his daily bike ride to South Eugene High School (SEHS), Hoffmeister was hit by an SUV cutting alley to alley. He walked away from the crash, but not without a shattered bike helmet, a broken scapula, and a traumatic brain injury that has had enduring effects on his life. 

Yet despite the trials of the last decade, Hoffmeister can be found at the Columns most days, spotting seams to clean, refining his moves, and sharing the experience of climbing with others. 

Hoffmeister’s climbing pursuits began around 25 years ago as a college wrestler at the University of Oregon. When initially exploring the Columns, his approach was to muscle those first climbs. Lacking technique, he wrecked his body in those early sessions. An older, experienced climber gave him a thick, hand-copied guidebook, written by Chris Jones, Bill Ramsey, and Alan Watts — three lesser-known climbers who hadn’t yet been recognized as some of the greats. 

“I started just, like, writing notes in it and ticking off climbs,” he says. “I could only do, like, the easiest climbs for a long time. And then I slowly got a little better and a little better.” 

Hoffmeister’s metric for advancement was sending a 5.12 at Smith Rock in 2004. In the Yosemite Decimal System (YDS), routes are classified from 1 to 5, with the latter being a rock face requiring ropes or other gear. The decimal refers to the climb's difficulty, concerning the size of the holds and difficulty of moves. A 5.12 typifies a more advanced, difficult grade. Motivated by a challenge he thought up with his friends and the punishment of running from Smith to Bend if he didn’t send the climb, Hoffmeister completed the route on June 1, the final day of the challenge.

During this time, Hoffmeister completed his accelerated master’s degree in teaching, launching a career that was harmonious with climbing. In 2005, Hoffmeister and climbing partner Jeff Hess launched the Integrated Outdoor Program (IOP) at SEHS. The duo had first met through climbing, and Hoffmeister later began student-teaching under Hess. The friendship turned into mentorship and evolved into teaching together. 

“His and my friendship, both the working part of it and the non-working part of it, is something that I hadn’t experienced before and definitely will not ever experience again,” says Hess. “His friendship has been a profound gift to me.”

The pair aligned in their teaching philosophy and visions for an integrated English and outdoor curriculum and pitched the idea to the school. Despite a lack of funding and misalignment with traditional high school frameworks, the program proved to have an immeasurable impact on teachers and students alike.

“The program was so influential for most students just because it was so different,” says Hira Shamsuddin, a former IOP student who later co-taught with Hoffmeister. 

“It was so free,” she says. “That program was the only thing that got me through high school when I moved here.” 

The program was a vibrant mix of writing and reading exercises, desert trips, rock climbing, kayaking, fire-building challenges, a Smith Rock trip, and a range of other outdoor escapades.

“It was just so cool. And we had no money. But we had really cool friends, and we built networks,” says Hoffmeister. “People were awesome. They like, poured into the kids.”

When he wasn’t teaching, Hoffmeister had the evenings, weekends, and breaks to spend time outside with his growing family. Summers entailed annual Yosemite trips, and Hoffmeister racked up first ascents at the Columns and Sisters boulders.

“I was never great or world-class at difficulty,” he says. “I was pretty good at trad climbing, and then I got a little obsessive about speed climbing.”

Hoffmeister and Hess began to ritualize their Columns sessions. 

“We started meetings three days a week. Every other morning, at like seven in the morning, without fail. Endlessly,” says Hoffmeister.

It was around this time that the idea for a Columns El Cap challenge was born. It wasn’t a new idea, as people were recreating El Cap climbs all over the world at their local crag or gym, converting the El Cap nose distance into a certain number of routes. Hess and Hoffmeister undertook the challenge at the Columns, and on their first go, Hoffmeister climbed the 64 lines in 4 hours and 56 minutes. Over the next ten years, Hoffmeister would whittle this time down to less than half of that. 

Defeating a world-class climber such as El Cap legend Florine in 2019 was a feat in and of itself, but more than anything, completing the El Cap challenge was a testament to Hoffmeister’s resilience. Less than a year prior, he had momentarily died, enduring a grand mal seizure which had caused him to lose consciousness and temporarily stop breathing. 

The 2018 incident was a symptom of the seizure disorder that resulted from the biking accident four years prior. In the immediate aftermath of the 2014 injury, the scope of its impact on Hoffmeister’s brain and body wasn’t fully understood. 

Hess was one of the first people to see him after the accident, and remembers Hoffmeister sitting in one of the SEHS hallways, slumped against the wall. He was in apparent discomfort, but the minimal visible impact on his body gave a false impression about the extent of the injury. 

“It seemed really traumatic, but it was also like, oh, what a relief, that, that you’re not really hurt, you know?” Hess recalls.

But as time progressed, so did an awareness regarding the impact of the trauma, and further symptoms became present. 

In 2015 and 2018, Hoffmeister suffered grand mal seizures that he says have altered the state of his being. The 2018 seizure was triggered while swimming in Lake Creek with his family. Hoffmeister says he’s never been the same since that. 

After his second convulsion, Hoffmeister spent two months mostly alone and in the dark, doing what he could to help his brain recover.

He returned to work and spent a year teaching just one IOP class, where he dedicated ample time to being outside and in the community. At the same time, he worked through cognitive and neuro-vision therapy. In terms of activities that aid in brain injury recovery, climbing falls under complex physical processes that contribute to neuroplasticity and potential for neural growth.

After spending the late winter months reading up on the best endurance climbers, keeping up with therapy, and interval training at the Columns and indoor climbing gyms, Hoffmeister had readied himself for the El Cap challenge. 

On an overcast day in May 2019, with an impending threat of thunderstorms, the base of the Columns was crammed with friends, family, climbers, videographers, and emcees, all gathered to watch Hoffmeister take on one of the greats. 

“I think I was pretty high on adrenaline,” says Hoffmeister. “I went out in 59 minutes for the first half, and then I almost threw up, and like, ate a banana and slammed a Gatorade, and climbed a little bit slower for two climbs and then went back at it.”

After two hours, five minutes, and 55 seconds of speed climbing the lines, Hoffmeister came out on top. It is in his nature to chalk at least part of his achievement up to a home-court advantage and Florine picking the wrong shoe. 

Hoffmeister remembers Florine stopping his climb, stretching out his surgically replaced foot, and switching shoes. With a slight time advantage, Hoffmeister kicked into higher gear. He knew he had gained a lead, and he maintained it, securing the win by about 21 minutes. 

After the El Cap day, Hoffmeister continued to climb, write, teach, and show up for students in an incomparable way. But the symptoms of his traumatic brain injury proved pervasive, draining his energy and limiting his capacity for social engagement. Hoffmeister would go through his morning classes and then seek out moments of reprieve so that his brain could rest in silence and darkness. 

“The emotional energy that you put out being available to hundreds of people every day, and needing to adapt what you do to other people's needs and what’s going on in their lives is really profound,” says Hess. “After his brain injury, his base level of energy for that kind of interaction, that’s constant as a teacher, was reduced.” 

Hoffmeister’s afternoons consisted of IOP classes that would drain the rest of his energy. He was so destroyed by the end of the school day that he couldn’t talk to his co-teacher. He would go home and fall asleep again, lacking the mental capacity to check in with his family about their days or share about his. 

“I felt like I wasn’t able to be present for my family the way that I wanted to be,” says Hoffmeister. “That was hard and disappointing.”

Conversations about retirement ensued. His two daughters were certain that stepping away from teaching was the right thing to do, and his neurologist, rehabilitative medicine specialist, and physical therapist echoed them. 

“I was in denial about my brain injury and seizure disorder,” says Hoffmeister. “I thought I would look into disability, and then I would get denied.”

In October 2024, Hoffmeister submitted his records to the Public Employees Retirement System (PERS) board. His claim was immediately accepted, leading him to realize that perhaps he had been struggling more than he wanted to admit. On December 1, 2024, three days short of the tenth anniversary of the biking accident, Hoffmeister retired from teaching after being declared completely and permanently disabled. 

“It’s pretty weird,” says Hoffmeister. “Being, like, relatively young on disability.” 

The transition hasn’t been easy, but he says that reflecting on how he has been able to show up for his family has illustrated to him that it was the right thing to do. 

As of May 2025, it has been roughly five months post-retirement. Hoffmeister still finds joy and presence in his climbing and writing rituals, and is grateful for the time he’s able to spend with his family and raising their new puppy. He’s trying to write fewer goals, so as not to overwhelm himself. But he’s working on a few books and has his eyes set on some first ascents at the Columns. 

Ridgemont Outfitters, Metolius, and Elevation, a local bouldering gym, sponsor his climbing pursuits. He’s scoping out his potential return to the endurance competition Horseshoe Hell in the fall of 2025, and a brutal endurance challenge at Smith in the spring. 

“Honestly, I'm trying to look at my disability as a second childhood, an opportunity to take the time to be healthy, learn about the world, and build new relationships,” he says. “I struggle a bit each day, but as long as I take naps, one to three each day, to restart my brain, and I don't try to sustain long, focused, or heavy screen-based activities, I do alright.”

After a traumatic brain injury, forming new neural connections and strengthening the brain's adaptability are crucial to compensate for damaged areas and improve cognitive function. 

Across a range of neurodegenerative and neuropsychiatric diseases, studies demonstrate the positive effects of physical activity, including improving cognitive function, promoting neuroplasticity, and improving working memory and attention.

Climbing, in particular, has been tied to mental health improvements as well, with European research identifying bouldering as a potential psychotherapeutic treatment for anxiety and depression. American research additionally shows that rock climbing positively impacts mental health. 

Hoffmeister has centered his recovery processes around continuing to climb. Climbing, writing, reading, parenting, fly-fishing, and the other activities that occupy his time require energy, but if he finds a sweet spot and doesn’t push himself to mental fatigue, he’s helping his brain by doing what he loves most.

For now, whether it is the dark of night, a bitter grey day, or the rounded basalt crag is bathing in warm sunshine, there is a good chance that Hoffmeister can be found at the Columns working his way up a line.