Photographing the World’s Best With Rainer Eder

Photographing the World’s Best With Rainer Eder

“I want it to capture not only what happened, but also why that moment mattered,” says photographer Rainer Eder.

Eder’s photos feature in the gallery, “Cracks of the Alps” in Summit Journal 324, alongside fellow photographer Fred Moix, and accompanied by an essay by Mari Salvesen. As you can guess, the piece is about some of the best cracks in the Alps, from abandoned quarries to impossible split-like-lightning overhangs.

Before photography, Eder was a painter, but once he saw a copy of Alpinismus, a German alpinist magazine, the images inspired him to put down the brush and pick up the camera.

Today, we chat with Eder about his journey, how he’s built relationships with some of the world’s best climbers, and his new series with Mammut about climbing on man-made waste-based landscapes.

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For more than 40 years, Rainer Eder has combined my passions for climbing and photography, documenting athletes, expeditions, and mountain landscapes around the world. Growing up in Lienz, Austria, surrounded by the Dolomites, he developed a deep connection to the mountains that continues to shape his work today. His background as a climber allows him to create authentic images from within the action, working with some of the world's leading climbers and outdoor brands. He's particularly interested in long-term visual storytelling projects that explore the relationship between people, adventure, and the environment. You can follow Rainer on Instagram @rainer_eder

 

Photographing the World’s Best With Rainer Eder

Summit Journal: You were born in Lienz, Austria, which is not to be confused with the hometown of the famous Linzer cake, but, all that to ask, what is your favorite sweet from your home country?

Rainer Eder: The sweet I like the most is a kind of Blueberry Pancake called Schwarzbeerschmarn!

 

SJ: How did you break into professional outdoor photography?

RE: Before photography, I was actually a painter. More than 40 years ago, I came across the German alpinist magazine, Alpinismus, for the first time. I was immediately captivated by the climbing photographs. They captured not only the athletic achievement but also the atmosphere, exposure, and beauty of the mountains. Those images made a lasting impression on me and inspired me to start taking photographs myself.

At that time, I was climbing regularly with my friends, and I wanted a camera to document our adventures and the routes we were doing. What began as a simple way to record memories soon turned into a serious passion. The more time I spent behind the camera, the more interested I became in learning how to create compelling images and tell stories through photography.


SJ: You started climbing in the mountains around Lienz at 16. For those who are unfamiliar, what makes this area a hotbed for climbing, and did growing up there help you in your eventual career as a climbing photographer?

RE: My own connection to the mountains started much earlier. As a child, my parents often took me hiking, and to be honest, I hated it. Everything changed when I was 16. A school friend invited me to visit the local Austrian Alpine Club, and after that day, my perspective on the mountains completely changed.

We started climbing relatively easy routes, around grade 3, and every year we pushed ourselves to climb harder and more challenging lines. Most of our climbing took place in the Dolomites, often on traditional routes with very limited protection. I was frequently scared, but those experiences taught me a great deal about commitment, risk management, and moving confidently in the mountains.

Looking back, growing up in this environment was incredibly valuable. The mountains were always close by, and spending so much time in them helped me develop a deep understanding of alpine terrain, weather, and climbing culture. Those experiences later became a strong foundation for my work as a climbing photographer, allowing me to anticipate situations, move efficiently in technical terrain, and capture authentic moments in the mountains.

 

Fred Moix on FM’air (“Ephemeral”), in Crodo, Italy, near the crack-climbing mecca of Cadarese. Moix found the crack, and cleaned it with Marco Rochat, who christened it. Moix then did the first ascent in early 2024. “We thought this was an abandoned quarry,” Moix said, “but it is still active. So the climb could disappear soon—anyone who wants to repeat it should hurry up!” He rarely grades his climbs, but speculated it is around 7a (5.11d). This image features in “Cracks of the Alps” in Summit Journal 324. / Photo: Rainer Eder

 

SJ: You work with folks like Ines Papert and Alex Megos, and formerly, folks like David Lama. On your website, you describe yourself as a “convivial networker.” How do you meet and build trust with such high-end athletes?

RE: Most of the athletes I have worked with over the years were not people I approached as a photographer first. I met them through the climbing community, in the mountains, at events, or through mutual friends. Climbing is a relatively small world, and relationships often develop naturally over time.

Building trust with high-level athletes is not very different from building trust with anyone else. It takes time, reliability, and genuine interest in what they do. As a climber myself, I understand the challenges, risks, and commitment behind their achievements. That shared experience helps create a connection and allows me to anticipate situations without getting in the way.

With athletes such as Ines Papert and Alex Megos, trust was built through many days spent together in the mountains and at climbing areas. They know that I respect their objectives, work professionally, and will do everything I can to capture their performance and the story behind it.

I think the term “convivial networker” reflects my belief that relationships should be based on genuine human connection rather than business alone. I enjoy meeting people, listening to their stories, and staying in touch over many years. In the end, the best photographs often come from trust, friendship, and shared experiences rather than from a single assignment.

 

SJ: How does working with some of the biggest names differ from, let’s say, “less professional” climbers?

RE: In many ways, it is not as different as people might think. Whether I am photographing world-class athletes or less experienced climbers, my goal is always the same: to tell an authentic story and create strong images.

The biggest difference is usually the level of focus, preparation, and consistency. Top athletes like Ines Papert, Alex Megos, or David Lama were extremely professional in everything they did. They often had very clear objectives, understood exactly what they wanted to achieve, and were able to perform at a high level even under difficult conditions.

At the same time, working with elite climbers can actually make a photographer’s job easier. Their movements are efficient and aesthetic, they know how to manage complex situations, and they are often very aware of how photography and media work. They understand that creating a great image is a collaboration between athlete and photographer.

That said, some of my favorite photographs have been made with climbers who were not famous at all. Passion, personality, and a good story are often more important than performance grades. Whether someone climbs 6a or 9b, what really matters is authenticity and the emotion behind the experience.

For me, the human aspect has always been the most important part. Great athletes may achieve extraordinary things, but the trust, friendship, and shared experiences in the mountains are what ultimately create meaningful photographs.



“I took this photo of David Lama on a rest day close to the Yosemite Village. When I saw this old cool car, I asked David to sit just in the front of it.” - Rainer Eder

SJ: Along those lines, what separates a professional outdoor photographer from a very good (but still amateur) photographer? (Because there are a lot of very talented not necessarily professional photographers these days). How do you continue to stand out?

RE: Today, there are many extremely talented amateur photographers, and with modern cameras and technology, the technical quality of images has become incredibly high. The gap is no longer defined simply by who owns the best equipment or who can take a sharp photograph.

For me, what separates a professional photographer is consistency and reliability. A professional has to deliver strong images regardless of the conditions — whether the weather is perfect or terrible, whether there is plenty of time or only a short window of opportunity. Clients need to know that they can depend on you. 

Another important difference is experience and storytelling. Taking a single great photograph is one thing; creating a complete visual story that communicates the atmosphere, the emotions, and the essence of an adventure is something else. That comes from years of working in the field and understanding both the subject and the audience. 

I also believe that my background as a climber gives me an advantage. After decades in the mountains, I can anticipate situations, understand what athletes are trying to achieve, and position myself in places that allow me to capture authentic moments. Many of the images are possible because I am part of the adventure, not just an observer. 

As for standing out, I don't think too much about competing with others. I simply try to stay curious, keep learning, and continue telling stories that are meaningful to me. After more than 40 years of climbing and photography, I still enjoy being in the mountains, and I think that passion is reflected in my work. In the end, authenticity and experience are difficult to imitate, and they remain valuable even in a world full of great photographers.


SJ: In talking with professional climbers, there’s a certain standard they maintain, not only themselves, but their presentation too. What do you look for in imagery to meet both your standards and your clients'?

RE: Professional climbers have very high standards, not only for their performance but also for how that performance is presented. They dedicate years of their lives to their projects, so it is important that the images reflect the quality, commitment, and emotion behind what they do.  

When I photograph an athlete, I look for more than just the crux move or the hardest section of a route. Of course, the action has to be strong, but I also want to capture the atmosphere, the landscape, the effort, and sometimes even the uncertainty that is part of every climb. The best images tell a story and give the viewer a sense of what it felt like to be there. 

At the same time, I always try to understand what the client needs. A magazine, an outdoor brand, and an athlete may all have different expectations. My job is to create images that meet those requirements while still remaining authentic and true to the experience.

One thing I have learned over the years is that authenticity is essential. Athletes immediately recognize when an image feels genuine and when it feels staged. The strongest photographs are usually those that combine technical excellence with a real moment.

Ultimately, my own standard is quite simple: when I look at an image years later, I want it to capture not only what happened, but also why that moment mattered. If the athlete, the client, and I all feel that the image tells an honest story, then I know we have succeeded.

 


SJ: You recently did a really interesting series with Mammut, about climbing in our man-made waste-based landscape. I.e., Jonas Schild dry tooling his way up towering piles of debris-paper and a boulderer traversing a beached fishing vessel. What was the creative brief and how did you work with the team and athletes to shape the shoots?

RE: Actually, the original idea came from me. Around ten years earlier, I had already worked on a similar project exploring climbers in environments shaped by human activity rather than in traditional mountain settings. The concept stayed with me for years, and I felt there was still more potential to develop it further.

When the opportunity arose to work with Mammut, I revisited the idea and expanded it. After decades of photographing climbers in beautiful natural landscapes, I was interested in placing them in locations created by consumption, industry, and waste. The visual contrast is immediate and surprising, and it encourages people to look more closely and think about what they are seeing.

It was also extremely helpful to work with the creative agency Perger & Berger. They took the concept and created visualizations before the actual shoots took place. Seeing the ideas translated into detailed visual concepts helped everyone involved understand the potential of the project and gave us a strong foundation for the final execution.

From there, the process became highly collaborative. The Mammut team, the athletes, the agency, and the production crew all contributed to shaping the project and finding locations that were both visually powerful and safe to work in. Athletes like Jonas Schild were very open to experimenting and helped bring the concept to life.

For me, the challenge was to create images that worked on several levels. They needed to be visually striking, showcase the athletes, and at the same time make the environment an essential part of the story. The locations were never just backgrounds — they were central to the message of the images.

What I appreciate most is that the project generated discussion. People interpreted the photographs in different ways, which I think is a sign of a successful visual project. I have always believed that photography is at its strongest when it raises questions and invites reflection rather than providing simple answers.

 

SJ: Anything else you’d like to share?

RE: After more than 40 years of climbing and photography, I still feel the same curiosity that first drew me to both. The mountains have given me incredible experiences, lifelong friendships, and opportunities to work with inspiring people around the world.

One thing I have learned over the years is that success is rarely about a single photograph, a difficult climb, or a major publication. What remains most valuable are the experiences, the people you meet, and the stories you share along the way.

I also feel very fortunate to have witnessed several generations of climbers and the evolution of our sport. While equipment, media, and technology have changed dramatically, the essence of climbing remains the same: curiosity, passion, commitment, and a desire to explore.

As a photographer, I still enjoy looking for new perspectives and new stories. I believe that staying curious is one of the most important qualities, whether you are a climber, an artist, or a photographer.

And perhaps most importantly, I am still grateful every time I have the opportunity to spend a day in the mountains with a camera in my hands. After all these years, that feeling has never disappeared.

 

 

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Feature Image: “The Idea for this photo came about years ago when I was looking for locations for a Mammut campaign. It wasn't easy to find, but I came across some photos of shipwrecks in Bretagne, France. After the location check, I knew it was what I was looking for. The climber is Marie Gamen.” - Rainer Eder

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