When Sarah Rose Siskind joined the climbing gym at the Manhattan Plaza Health Club two years ago, she worried that fellow members might find it odd to see a pregnant climber. She soon learned, however, that eccentricity was simply the baseline at the Hell’s Kitchen fitness center. On the vertical walls, handwritten duct-tape labels mark challenging holds with phrases like “Picante” or “You Don’t Really Need Me.” Climbing holds are installed across windows, leading to moments of awkward eye contact with pedestrians passing by on the sidewalk below. Members frequently bring their cats, infants, or mothers into the space. Visitors might even encounter a diminutive husky-Chihuahua mix named Mika—an emotional-support dog who often seems to require far more emotional support than his talkative Australian owner, Anthony.
For decades, many local climbers found their way to the Manhattan Plaza Health Club (MPHC) by simply Googling the phrase “cheapest climbing gym in NYC.” Priced at $49 a month, the membership fee includes essential gear such as chalk, harnesses, shoe rentals, and bandages. By contrast, fees at the city’s newer climbing facilities—many of which are operated by large national chains—run roughly three times that amount, and often require separate payments for gear rentals and amenities.
While the city’s megaclimbing facilities boast major advantages—such as Movement’s Gowanus gym, which spans 36,000 square feet with dedicated speed-climbing walls, training rooms, yoga classes, and private trainers—the MPHC climbing space is radically different. It is tiny, cramped, and measures just 5,000 square feet, with every square inch put to practical use. Not only is it New York City’s most affordable climbing gym, but it is also the oldest, and it wears its decades of history visibly. Yet, after 34 years of operation, the gym is scheduled to close its doors permanently on September 30.
According to gym employees, the compact space will likely be converted by the neighboring Manhattan Plaza Racquet Club into a tennis simulator. Neither the management of the Manhattan Plaza Health Club nor the complex’s owner, the Related Companies, has officially confirmed that plan or provided detailed reasons for the sudden closure. Nevertheless, its imminent demise marks the loss of something increasingly rare in modern New York: an inexpensive, unpretentious space where a vibrant, eccentric subculture can organically thrive.
Formerly operating as a racquetball court, the climbing gym opened its doors in 1992, at a time when indoor rock climbing was still largely considered a fringe pursuit. The facility is housed within Manhattan Plaza, the prominent postwar Hell’s Kitchen residential complex that was originally created to provide subsidized housing for performing artists. Over the decades, the complex has served as home to notable residents such as Al Pacino, Alicia Keys, Timothée Chalamet, and Colman Domingo.
Because the fitness center—which includes a swimming pool and the climbing gym—is open to nonresidents for a fee, visitors often experience uniquely New York moments. Members might find themselves sharing a swim lane with a Tony-nominated septuagenarian or running into comedian Lewis Black at the weekly farmers’ market held outside the building.
Inside the climbing gym, the atmosphere remains distinctly unhurried and ad hoc, functioning as a tangible relic of another era. Rachel Michelson, a UX designer who has worked as a staffer at MPHC since 2023, attributes the intimate quarters to the way they naturally bring people together. She notes that wearing headphones is uncommon in the gym; climbers working on the same route routinely strike up conversations, and strangers standing on the safety mats below frequently shout words of encouragement. It is, as she puts it, practically impossible not to make friends.
Presiding over this contained chaos is 36-year-old Ryan Shaefer, who has served as the gym’s manager since 2021. Sporting sandals patched with duct tape, a hot-pink softball jersey, and toenails painted a fading metallic purple, Shaefer embodies a relaxed, surfer-style energy. That demeanor aligns with his personal philosophy that rock climbing is fundamentally countercultural, even as the sport’s broader image has grown increasingly mainstream and competition-oriented.
This philosophy directly influences how Shaefer designs the gym’s routes. He deliberately leaves any route above level two ungraded because he does not want climbers to be intimidated by arbitrary numbers. He recalls once spending two years convinced he was incapable of climbing a V6 route simply because the numerical label told him it was beyond his ability. While official route grades are kept on a reference sheet behind the desk for those who request them, Shaefer insists that climbers look at a problem and try it for themselves first.
Demonstrating the gym’s inclusive spirit, Shaefer once created a custom route for a temporarily one-legged climber named Ed, who refused to rest while recovering from an ACL injury and wearing a medical boot. Ed, whom Shaefer affectionately refers to as “the resident silverback,” points out another rare feature preserved at MPHC: actual rock holds. While modern indoor climbing facilities rely almost exclusively on manufactured synthetic holds, MPHC still features authentic rocks that were bolted into the walls years ago, offering climbers a tactile sensation closer to outdoor climbing.
The gym has long accommodated casual climbers and those with unique needs alongside its dedicated regulars. Six years ago, Kathleen O’Brien and her son, Heath, discovered the facility almost by accident after their local swimming pool closed due to lightning and someone suggested they try climbing instead. Heath, who was 10 or 11 years old at the time, is profoundly autistic with limited language skills and significant sensory sensitivities. Though O’Brien initially doubted whether Heath could manage climbing, Ryan Shaefer welcomed him, starting him on the easiest wall and allowing him to progress entirely at his own pace. O’Brien notes that Heath rarely gets the opportunity to feel like the “cool kid,” but climbing at MPHC gave him moments where he achieved precisely that.
The low-key informality that benefited climbers like Heath and Ed is precisely what members say they will miss most once the facility is gone. Rachel Burns, a member who commutes regularly to the gym from Crown Heights in Brooklyn, has spent the final weeks leading up to the closure actively organizing an effort to save the space. Members who previously barely spoke to one another, or who climbed on different days, have connected through WhatsApp messaging groups to rally longtime Manhattan Plaza residents to their cause.
An online petition created by the members has surpassed 8,000 signatures. With only days remaining before the scheduled closure, Burns has continued coordinating strategy calls, surveying fellow climbers to see how much more they might be willing to pay, discussing potential fundraising drives, and searching for an alternative gym operator. Despite the long odds, members are still pushing management to consider their proposals for keeping the gym alive. As Burns reflects, even if their efforts ultimately fall short, the campaign has successfully raised awareness and galvanized a community in the process.
