EDUCATE: New Trends in Climbing Accidents—Summer 2023 Edition

Pete Takeda is back on the podcast! As the editor of Accidents in North American Climbing, he's ready to talk about new trends in climbing accidents that he's seen over the course of editing the 2023 edition of the book. Things get a little emotional, existential, and even a little dark, but ultimately we talk about how crowding at our crags, Youtube climbing education, and even grades are contributing to new types of climbing accidents. After all, as Pete says: “gravity speaks with an eloquence rarely found on Youtube.” But Pete’s also seen trends in the way that the climbing community comes together in the face of horrible tragedy. It’s the combination of both these high consequence accidents, and the community, that makes climbing so real. Get a sneak peek of the newest edition of Accidents in North American Climbing by listening in! We also talk briefly to the expert on the AAC's rescue and medical expense coverage....so if you're worried about the accident trends in this episode, you know what to do to make sure you're covered and prepared in the case of an accident.

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Anchors

Anchoring is a subject that is often debated and analyzed, and yet much of what is being proselytized or disparaged does not adhere to fundamental principles of physics, human factors psychology, or a working understanding of rock quality and material science. It is not entirely mysterious how American climbers have gotten to this point, but it is certainly mysterious that so many of us insist upon remaining in a scientific and practical abyss.

Anchoring has evolved. It continues to evolve. If we want to continue that evolution, it’s valuable to explore the relationship between the past, the present, and the future. Today, anchoring is considered to be a precise, quantifiable art, but the science many climbers use to evaluate and quantify an anchor is dubious. Trusted and lauded concepts like equalization and no extension can be proven to be over-valued and/or inconsistently applied, which leaves us on uncertain footing.

If what we know about anchoring is questionable, what can we rely on? What does it mean when we say that anchors should be strong, secure, and simple? 

HISTORY OF ANCHORING

The earliest written instructions for anchoring all emphasized the value of finding a reliable and unquestionable protection point. Rock horns, well-placed ironmongery, threaded holes and chockstones, and substantial vegetation all served to give a belayer enough security that his or her body belay would not be displaced by sudden dynamic loads. Importantly, climbers did not spend much time trying to quantify or calculate the properties of an anchor because the anchor was just one part of a system that depended largely on a gigantic human component: the belayer. Anchoring, as a skill set, was inextricable from the belay that relied on it.

This image, taken from The Climber's Bible by Robin Shaw circa 1983, typifies the instruction of anchoring in a previous era.  The belayer uses his stance to guard the anchor.

Modern belay anchoring is much different. A belayer is not guarding the anchor with her own body weight or using the anchor simply to augment her stance. Instead, the anchor is expected to support a falling, resting, or lowering climber entirely, based on its own integrity and load-bearing capabilities. As a result, the anchor and its focal masterpoint have become the foundation of most technical systems for climbing rock and ice. For example, when top-roping, the anchor is usually asked to hold the belayer and the climber in a counterweight arrangement. In direct belays, the anchor and its masterpoint are asked to sustain the weight of the seconding climber and any loads created to assist the seconding climber. In multi-pitch climbing, the anchor is asked to belay the second and then sustain the upward pull of the leader.

A modern belayer does not just use an anchor as a backup.  As we can see, this belayer is fully committed to the load-bearing properties of the anchor.  It holds his bodyweight, and the bodyweight of his second.

Whether we’re top-roping or multi-pitch climbing, whether we’re in the gym or at the crag, whether we’re building anchors with bolts or trad gear, we are increasingly dependent completely on anchors. And building them has become a foundational skill in technical climbing.

Belaying one or two seconds directly off the anchor is called a Direct Belay.  If an anchor is reliable, direct belays are more versatile and more manageable than alternative configurations.

Modern anchors are configured to secure belayers no matter who they are belaying.  They might be belaying a second; they might be belaying a leader.

ANCHORING PRINCIPLES AND ACRONYMS

A key aspect of modern anchors has been the development of acronyms used to teach and evaluate them. These acronyms are not without merit. They helped a generation of climbers inaugurate a new era in anchoring.

Anchor builders used such mnemonics like a checklist of key principles, and the anchors they created served climb after climb reliably and predictably. Here’s how a typical anchoring scenario might unfold: The anchor builder, armed with a fundamental principle like SERENE, arrives at a pair of bolts. She begins to work through her acronym. She assesses the bolts and feels they are both strong. Knowing she’ll need to build a redundant and equalized anchor, she selects a 7mm nylon cordelette as her attachment material. She doubles up the cord, clips one side to each bolt, targets the anticipated load, and then ties an overhand knot in such manner that creates two isolated legs and a masterpoint. She clips into the master- point with a locking carabiner and her clove-hitched climbing rope.

Before calling “off belay” she reviews her handiwork:

• Good bolts. 25kN each, combining to 50kN at the masterpoint. Solid: Check. 

• One cordellette, one knot, 30 seconds to build. Efficient: Check.

• If any single part of this anchor up to the masterpoint were to fail, there are backups. Redundant: Check.

• When weighted, both legs of the anchor are tight. Equalized: Check.

• If anything were to break, the masterpoint wouldn’t extend. No Extension: Check.

• She’s built a SERENE anchor.

Anchoring acronyms help us ask basic questions about an anchor's qualities, but an absolute loyalty to concepts like redundancy and equalization can be misleading.

Millions of anchors have been constructed in approximately this fashion without incident or mishap, so it would be hasty to suggest that anchoring acronyms do not have value. However, climbers who also happen to be engineers, physicists, or just generally scientific-minded are quick to point out a fact that continues to elude a large number of climbers, climbing instructors, and authors of climbing books: Some of the qualities espoused in these beloved acronyms are not actually achieved in nature, neither practically, mathematically, nor experimentally.

Modern climbers have largely shifted from relying on the belayer’s weight as a key part of the system to relying wholly on the qualities of an anchor, and yet many of the qualities we aspire to achieve are based on nuanced falsehoods. As anchoring situations grow more complex, a climber attempting to tick every box on such an anchor checklist can waste significant time trying to reach unattainable goals. Worse, the climber may be lulled into a false sense of security.

The time has come, as a climbing culture, that we confront the modern science to ensure that it aligns with modern anchors. That might mean that many of our beloved acronyms are best suited to teaching novices, instead of remaining our only checklist as we grow in the sport. But it also might allow our understanding to evolve as rapidly as our sport does. 

Anchoring acronyms still have value when climbers are first learning to build anchors.

THE MYTH OF EQUALIZATION

Anchors never really equalize. That is to say, they never manage to equally distribute the total load of the climbing team equally to all the components in the anchor, unless there is only one component. Yet, much false confidence and unnecessary time is contributed to achieving the elusive goal of equalization.

In experiment after experiment, the most carefully constructed anchor, with the most meticulous care taken to “equalize” all the components, will demonstrate that part of the anchor is holding most of the weight, most of the time. This is especially true if:

• The direction of the load alters in any way
• Any knots in the system tighten
• Any component fails
• The anchor builder intentionally ignores equalization in order to distribute more load to large components and less to small components 

Even the theoretical load distribution of many anchors is not "equal."  This anchor builder intentionally rigged to distribute more load to big pieces and less load to small pieces.

As a result, anchors that funnel into a masterpoint do not succeed, as intended, in aggregating the strength of the things they are attached to. A strong anchor thus is only as strong as the component that is holding most of the weight most of the time.

With an appreciation for this reality, many climbers gravitate toward “self-equalizing” anchoring systems. Magic X and quad configurations have become popular, but their ability to self-adjust to variable load direction is not perfect. The climber imagines that the shifting and sliding masterpoint allows equalization to happen, but in truth it only sort of happens...eventually...if the material doesn’t create too much friction. In the meantime, as the masterpoint slides along, the bulk of the load spikes from one component to the next.

What’s more, self-adjusting anchors all create opportunities for extension, despite the familiar anchoring acronyms’ insistence upon no extension. Anchor builders are forced to qualify that rule, applying load-limiting knots that limit or minimize extension.

For years, we’ve been loyal to principles that are scientifically inaccurate, encourage us to miscalculate the strength of our anchor, and force us to make convenient exceptions to principles like “no extension.” And while these acronyms enabled a generation of anchor builders to solve basic anchoring problems, in more complex scenarios these principles can easily become a liability.

WHY DO ANCHORS FAIL?

Indisputably, anchors fail because the load exceeds the force that the anchor can withstand. Theoretically, that should never happen because falling or lowering climbers create relatively small forces, given the capabilities of our equipment. So how does the load ever exceed the force an anchor can withstand? It happens in a few predictable and observable ways:

• We use our equipment incorrectly.  It doesn’t matter if the manufactured strength of a cam exceeds any load we could ever apply to it if we place the cam incorrectly. Similarly, a rope’s strength is irrelevant if we tie knots incorrectly.

• Our equipment has been damaged. Chemicals or heat or trauma can cause imperceptible weaknesses in our equipment. We have to take good care of our gear.

• The rock is not as good as we think it is. Evaluation of rock, ice, vegetation, and other anchoring media is a critical skill, on a micro and macro level. If there are hidden weaknesses, an anchor will expose them.

• We just make mistakes sometimes. We can all appreciate that fatigue, haste, distraction, and peer pressure lead us to do uncharacteristic and dangerous things. It’s part of being human.

• Acts of nature happen. There is such a thing as a no-win scenario in anchoring. We could do everything right and the mountain we’re climbing could collapse around us. That’s a bad day.

  All this causality is actually good news. The list above is ordered according to factors that we have the most power and knowledge to prevent. We can learn to use our equipment correctly. We can take good care of our gear. We can evaluate the rock more carefully and more skeptically. We can learn to prevent most anchor failures by being careful and knowledgeable.

  Such knowledge and care are part of what is keeping us safe out there, and if there are gaps in our knowledge, addressing the gap is vital. Instead of clinging to ideas like equalization and no extension, we can anticipate lurking dangers in our knowledge deficit.

FAILURE SCENARIOS

The following scenarios could be caused by a simplistic or inaccurate understanding of anchoring.

Small-component anchors. A devout loyalty to simple acronyms can have dangerous consequences when all the components in an anchor are smaller and weaker. If, for ex- ample, an anchor builder takes three small cams with 6kN of holding power each and imagines that an equalized masterpoint offers 18kN of combined strength, all the requirements of a SRENE anchor could be met. However, since equalization never really occurs, one of those pieces will be holding most of the weight most of the time. In that case, a single load that exceeds 6kN could sequentially rip every piece out of the rock, resulting in a catastrophic failure.

Lesson Learned: Avoid building anchors where no single component is strong enough to hold any potential load the climbing team could create.

Anchor builders start to imagine that they can aggregate the load-bearing properties of each component, which might not be true at all.  One tiny piece is probably holding most of the weight most of the time, with only other tiny pieces as backups.

Adjustable anchors. Anchors that self-adjust, like quad and sliding X configurations, do not eliminate extension. Mathematical data suggest the potential shock loads created by extension (even limited and minimized extensions) can be severe. If an anchor is constructed with only two pieces of equipment, like two 10kN cams, all the requirements of a SRENE anchor could be met. Yet a load large enough to make a single piece fail could catastrophically shock-load the second piece as well.

Lesson Learned: If you’re using self-adjusting systems, make sure ALL the components can survive the expected loads AND potential shock loads. Bomber pieces are required. 

Don't forget, adjustable systems do not necessarily create a perfect load distribution.  Add a human factor or a large load and the resulting shock-loads can be more consequential than anchor-builders realize.

Stacked quads or Xs. Just as the self-adjusting properties of a single sliding X or quad configuration are imperfect, stacking these configurations multiplies those imperfections. The failure of a single piece proceeds to shock-load all the remaining pieces.

Lesson Learned: When stacking adjustable systems, make sure the components can handle expected loads AND potential shock loads.

All these potential extensions are also potential shock-loads.  Can all the placements handle all those potential loads?

MORE COMPLEX ANCHORS

SERENE and EARNEST anchors are usually effective for simple top-rope anchors, but there are circumstances where an inability to escape that thinking could prove problematic. More complex anchors require more complex thinking and problem solving. These scenarios don’t occur that often, but, as climbers’ experience grows, most of us eventually will run into one or more of them:

• The direction of load applied to an anchor changes. The belayer could lean on an anchor in one direction, the belay might tug the anchor in a different direction, and two climbers at an anchor might fidget and tug and lean in lots of directions. Belay transitions on multi-pitch climbs can offer dramatic direction of load changes too. Typically, the anchor is rigged to belay a second climber, and then the same anchor is used for the lead belayer. The two loads could be completely different.

All these different changes in the direction of load will shift the entire load onto a single component.  

• The components available for anchoring might be vastly dissimilar. Some cams are rated to hold over 14kN, while the smallest cams may be rated to hold less than 6kN. Even if equalization were achievable in an anchor, why would anyone expect these two cams to do equal work? They are not equally valuable components. When anchoring components have vastly dissimilar load-bearing properties, the rigging will have to be more complicated.

The concept of equalization presumes that each component is equally valuable.  But, even perfect placements in perfect rock do not alway have equal load bearing properties, as pictured here.  Anchor builders might instead make gestures to prioritize the strongest pieces, to equitably distribute load, rather than equalize.

• A climber often has to construct an anchor with limited resources. The values and principles of anchoring do not change, but building a fundamentally sound anchor with limited resources is very challenging. It often requires some innovative and artistic problem-solving, hence the complexity.

How often has this happened to you?  You've got to build an anchor with the gear you have left.  It can get complicated when the resources are limited.

It should also be mentioned that the circumstances mentioned above might coincide and overlap. Since direct belays rely on fundamentally sound anchors, they may not be an option in some of these extreme scenarios.  Belayers may need to insert their own bodies into the system, using stance to supplement the anchor, relying on the anchor as a backup only. Moreover, there is such a thing as a no-win scenario in climbing and in anchoring, when the available resources, the working skill set, or various dire circumstances will not allow an appropriate anchor to be built. When faced with this scenario, a tactical retreat, a call for assistance, or the aid of another climber is preferable to settling for anchors that may well result in catastrophic failure.

THE TRIPLE S: FUNDAMENTALS OF COMPLEX ANCHORS

When anchoring becomes more complicated, a more sophisticated approach positions the anchor builder to answer three basic questions:

Is the anchor strong enough?
Is the anchor secure enough?
Is the anchor as simple as it can be?

This is a broader, more inclusive way to think about anchors than the SERENE-style mnemonic. Call it the Triple S approach. Triple S anchors do not strive to equalize or to eliminate extensions; they strive to distribute load intelligently, minimize extensions, and avoid edge-case failure scenarios. Triple S anchors do not attempt to aggregate strength; they rely on unquestionably strong component parts and anticipate a human factor in that calculation. Triple S anchors do not muddle into unnecessary complexity; they solve the anchoring problem as efficiently as possible.

Strength. An anchor must be adequately strong to sustain all potential loads applied to it. Then, an anchor’s strength must be padded with a margin of error that could account for any number of mistakes that all humans are wont to make. Let’s be conservative and provide ourselves with a 100 percent margin of error. That would mean that any anchor should be strong enough to sustain all potential loads applied to it multiplied by two.

Security. This means that if anything unexpected happens—components fail, the direction of load changes—the anchor must survive those unexpected changes. An anchor that is secure has backups. It has systemic redundancy all the way to the masterpoint. If any single point in the anchor were to fail, other points would provide adequate backups. We make a few exceptions for anchors that are so titanic in nature (large, stable trees and boulders) that we might rely upon these single features alone, but even these features could be rigged in a redundant fashion. 

Simplicity. A climber needs to appreciate that any anchor can quickly become convoluted and overly complex if it is rigged to solve phantom hazards or improb- able contingencies, or if it slavishly adheres to anchoring principles that are unachievable. For any given anchor, simplicity refers to the overall amount of time to construct and deconstruct an anchor. Simplicity refers to the overall amount of equipment needed, including rope, slings, carabiners, and any amount of padding or edge protection. All this should be minimized. Simplicity also refers to the number of knots being tied and untied, the number of steps needed to construct the anchor, and the distance the components are separated. All these should be minimized too.

When time, equipment, and number of steps are all minimized, and an anchor still demonstrates adequate strength and security, an anchor will have achieved the best end result our current knowledge and technology can offer. 

Gym to Crag

PC: Mo Beck climbing; photo by Will Saunders

It’s one of the hottest topics in climbing these days: how to make the transition from gym climbing to climbing outdoors, and in a way that is safe and responsible. A lot goes into climbing outdoors that you don’t have to think twice about in the gym! In our gym to crag series, we cover some of the key principles so that you can be more prepared, or so that you can educate your friends well as you mentor them outside!

Gym to Crag: New Questions to Consider

Our favorite part of this episode is that it was made a couple years ago, and Kai Lightner is a BABY. Oh how time flies…We also cover things like wearing a helmet, rock fall, the approach, uneven terrain when belaying, catching bigger falls, run-outs and more!

Gym to Crag: Stewardship and Environment

Climbing gets more complicated outside, but so does everything else—like eating, trash, and disposing of human waste. This video covers the outdoor ethics that all climbers need to know and practice to be responsible stewards of the crags we all love. Topics include staying on trail, packing out human waste and litter properly, leaving what you find, and more! Basically: wag bags are your new best friend.

Gym to Crag: Interacting with Others

Not going to lie, we know a lot of seasoned outdoor climbers who could brush up on these skills—especially making a respectful but efficient intervention when someone is climbing unsafely. In this installment of Gym to Crag, we cover the ways that risk and safety is amplified outside—and the best way to make sure those around you are respecting nature and each other as much as you do ;)

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The Line — June 2023

The Line is the monthly newsletter of the American Alpine Journal.

Vitaliy Musiyenko following pitch six (5.11), one of the cruxes of Against the Grain on Charlotte Dome. Photo by Brian Prince.

THE BEST 5.11 IN THE HIGH SIERRA?

“Over the last couple of years, I’ve been working on a route which, in my honest opinion, has the potential to become known as one of the five best 5.11s in the High Sierra.” That’s the start of Vitaliy Musiyenko’s report for AAJ 2023 on Against the Grain, a new route up Charlotte Dome in California’s Kings Canyon National Park. Musiyenko, co-author of the new High Sierra Climbing guidebooks, and Brian Prince completed the 1,800-foot 5.11c route in late July of 2022.

“I had just developed COVID symptoms on the day we hiked into camp at Charlotte Lake,” Prince wrote in an email, recalling the first ascent. “The next day, when we climbed the route, I was really pretty wrecked. I think the only way I was able to keep climbing was that the route was so good. I put on a mask at the belays to try and protect Vitaliy, but he ended up testing positive a few days later anyway. It says a lot about Vitaliy that he didn't hate me for giving him COVID when he avoided it after working through the height of the pandemic in an emergency room.”

Against the Grain has about 1,800 feet of climbing on the southeast face of Charlotte Dome. The “Fifty Classics” South Face route ascends the corrugated face to the left. Photo by Vitaliy Musiyenko.

Prince added, “I just felt grateful that Vitaliy asked me to join him to climb the route after he put so much work into it. It felt like a kind of peak in our partnership because he would be moving out of California [to Utah] soon after.”

Against the Grain takes a direct line up the southeast face of Charlotte Dome, well to the right of the classic South Face route (Beckey-Jones-Rowell, 1970), and also to the right of Dance of Dragons, a route that Musiyenko established in 2017 with Jeremy Ross. Curious about the claim that the new route might be among the best 5.11s in the High Sierra, we asked Musiyenko and Prince—two of the Sierra’s most active first ascensionists—to fill out their top five. Perhaps unsurprisingly, they agreed on most of the climbs. Here’s their list in alphabetical order:

Against the Grain (Charlotte Dome) • Friends (Spring Lake Wall) • Positive Vibrations (The Hulk) • Tradewinds (The Hulk) • Valkyrie (Angel Wings)

Prince also mentioned Sky Pilot on Mt. Goode and Sword in the Stone on Mt. Chamberlin, but added that he hadn’t done the latter. He said the new route on Charlotte Dome might be the best of them all: “Not just the top five…. It is vertical face climbing on a backcountry granite dome for pitch after pitch. There's just nothing else like it.“

Do you have a favorite long 5.11 in the High Sierra that ought to be on this list? Name it in the comments below.

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The south side of Cerro Iorana at sunset. Photo by Andrew Opila.

THE WILDS OF TIERRA DEL FUEGO

In a “Recon” article for AAJ 2020, geographer and exploratory climber Camilo Rada described the history and climbing possibilities in the remote Cordillera Darwin of Tierra del Fuego, at the southern tip of South America. Inspired in part by this article, Spanish climbers Eñaut Izagirre and Ibai Rico organized an expedition to the Cordillera Darwin in 2022 to attempt unclimbed peaks and study the snow and glacier dynamics in the range. With a base camp aboard the yacht Kotik, the seven-person expedition found great success, making the first ascents of the central summit of Monte Roncagli and Cerro Sara, as well as a new variation on Monte Francis. The team also collected snow samples from extremely remote sites and recovered thermometers and recording devices placed by Izagirre during a previous expedition in 2018. Among the early findings: The Roncagli (Alemania) Glacier has retreated at the alarming rate of more than a kilometer in just four years.

Izagirre and Rico’s article about the expedition will appear in AAJ 2023, which will be mailed to AAC members at the end of this summer. In the meantime, here’s a gallery of the team’s photos from the wild and beautiful Cordillera Darwin.

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Photographer and climber Andrew Opila has produced a 30-minute film about the expedition, Into The Ice, which premiered in Bilbao, Spain, and was shown at the Wasatch Film Festival in April. More festival dates are pending. See the trailer here.

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THE CUTTING EDGE IS BACK!

Season five of the AAJ’s Cutting Edge podcast kicks off with an interview featuring Jackson Marvell, the 27-year-old alpinist from Utah who just climbed his second new route up the mile-high east face of Mt. Dickey in Alaska. Listen here or wherever you get your podcasts.

The Cutting Edge · Jackson Marvell: New Route on Mt. Dickey in Alaska

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The Line is the newsletter of the American Alpine Journal (AAJ), emailed to more than 80,000 climbers each month. Find the archive of past editions here. Interested in supporting this online publication? Contact Billy Dixon for opportunities. Questions or suggestions? Email us: [email protected].

Snow Climbing

Know the Ropes: Fundamentals to Save Your Life

Originally Published in the 2014 Edition of Accidents in North American Climbing

Author: Dunham Gooding & Jason D. Martin // Photos: Erik Rieger.

“Slip on Snow.” The phrase seems innocuous enough. It certainly doesn’t sound like something that might lead to an injury or a fatality. But the reality of those three words in Accidents is quite different. If a slip or fall on snow appears in the heading of an abstract, it usually means that something terrible has happened. It might mean that someone has died.

In the last 10 years more than 300 snow travel accidents have been recorded in Accidents in North American Mountaineering. Many, but not all, of these accidents were precipitated by deficient equipment or skills, including “Improper Crampon Use” or “Failure to Self Arrest”; others by illness, exhaustion, or injury; and yet others were the result of objective hazards like avalanches, rockfall, or icefall. Many, but not all, of these accidents could have been avoided had the climbers developed a better understanding of the skills required to move over snow—a dynamic and dangerous setting.

Effective snow travel is a baseline skill that is often overlooked by beginners and advanced climbers alike. In many cases, climbing clubs and even some professional guide services do not spend adequate time teaching effective movement and fall avoidance on snow. This leaves all of these climbers—beginner to advanced—open to the possibility of making mistakes that result in injury to themselves or others.

In the following pages, we will discuss the baseline skills that every mountain traveler must master in order to move efficiently over snow, maximize safety, and minimize risk. For both ascending and descending snow slopes, there are two main techniques that we will address: using your feet and using your ice axe. Effective snow travel requires synchronization of both techniques, matching those techniques to the proper terrain, and ensuring the equipment matches as well. Finally, we’ll briefly discuss strategies for choosing the route, time of ascent, and when to belay or unrope on snow.

USING YOUR FEET

Good footwork is the first line of security against slips on snow. And good footwork requires mountaineering boots, with rigid or semi-rigid soles and ample lugs for traction. (Inadequate footwear is frequently a contributing factor in snow-travel incidents reported in Accidents.) In soft snow, without crampons, there are three recommended techniques. All three can be adapted for use with crampons when snow conditions require it.

Duck Walk

Lower-angle, soft to mildly hard spring and summer snow often allows one to travel effectively without crampons. In this terrain—often up to 35 degrees—the most effective technique is the “duck walk.”

Splay your toes out so that your feet make a V in the snow. As you move up the slope, feet splayed, kick the surface of the snow, using the inside edge of your boot to cut a platform. Move your weight onto the platform as soon as you have cut it, and then repeat the process with your other foot. If your little platform gives way under your weight, kick again and create subsequent steps with a more vigorous swing of your foot to cut deeper into the slope.

Step Kicking

As the angle increases, you will find it more comfortable to kick steps straight into the slope. Step kicking straight up the fall line is more strenuous than moving on a diagonal, but it is an effective way to increase your security. If the snow is consolidated but soft enough to kick good steps, you will have a good platform on which to stand. You will also be facing the slope, which is an excellent position from which to perform a quick self-arrest in the event of a slip.

Diagonal Ascent

If the snow is not soft enough to kick good steps, but is too steep for the duck walk, you may wish to make a diagonal ascent, switchbacking up the slope. The standard technique for moving up a steep slope at a diagonal is to employ a crossover step.

When moving up at a diagonal, there will always be a downhill foot (on the side of your body away from the slope) and an uphill foot (on the side closest to the slope). To move up the slope, cross your downhill foot above your uphill foot and then step up. Now bring the other foot around from behind to return to the uphill position. Once you’ve completed this crossover step, you should be in the same position from which you started. You’ll note that when you’re in the awkward crossed position you’re “out of balance.” When you’re in your original position, you’re “in balance.” If you’re using an ice axe to increase stability, it should be on the uphill side of your body and you should only move it when you’re in balance. Only stop to rest when in balance.

If you have trouble keeping track of which position is in balance and which is not, remember that the position that tends to make you face the slope is out of balance, and the one that tends to face you out slightly from the slope is in balance.

In order to change the direction of your ascent, bring your downhill foot up into an out-of-balance step, and then match that foot in a V position with your other foot, creating a duck stance. From there, make an in-balance step and kick a stance with the new uphill foot, pointing in the new direction. Note that the duck stance is always in balance, so it is possible to switch the ice axe from one hand to the other at any time while securely in that stance.

In harder snow you will have to shear each stance by cutting into the slope with a brisk forward swing of your foot, using a combination of the edge and the sole of your boot. In good conditions you should be able to cut your foot into the slope using a single movement. On hard snow you may need to kick several times to cut an appropriate stance.

Effective Crampon Use

In the past, a number of climbing clubs taught that crampon use was “required” for glacier travel. Thankfully this practice is far less common today, but there are still a lot of climbers out there who believe this to be true.

The reality is you should only wear crampons when the conditions require it. Crampons are dangerous. You can stab yourself with them or catch a point on a piece of clothing and trip. Crampons are required only when you walk or climb on firm snow or ice. It doesn’t matter whether you are on a glacier or not. If wearing crampons doesn’t increase your security, you should stow them until the conditions change.

It is common to start a climb early in the morning when snow slopes are thoroughly frozen. In a temperate climate, as the day unfolds, rising temperatures and direct sunlight on the snow can rapidly change frozen snow to soft snow or mush. Recognize when crampons are no longer needed and take them off.

When wet snow begins to ball up on the bottom of a crampon, the possibility of slipping and falling becomes very real. If the snow is soft enough, consider removing your crampons. In some cases a thin layer of wet snow on top of ice or hard snow makes crampons essential. For this reason mountaineers should always employ crampons equipped with anti-bot plates. These plastic inserts help keep snow from balling up between the crampon spikes.

The crampons you choose should be compatible with your boot and should be appropriate for the objective. If you elect to wear crampons with a toe bail or a heel bail/clipper, confirm that the rand/welts on the boot are appropriate for these crampons before you leave for the mountains. Try pulling down on the center bar and pulling the front points side to side. Does the crampon shift or lose contact with the boot, even if the sole is flexed? If the crampons do not fit securely, they must be adjusted or a different crampon/boot combination should be chosen. Never ignore a badly fitting crampon or just hope that it will improve.

Tripping is a significant hazard with crampons, often a result of the frontpoints snagging on clothing or gear. It’s not uncommon to see climbers wearing gaiters on the wrong feet, with the buckles on the inside of the legs—this provides a prominent place for a frontpoint to catch, causing a stumble. Be sure extra crampon straps are tucked away and that—if not wearing gaiters—the cuff of your pants has a low profile. (Many modern mountaineering pants have grommets to attach elastic cords that run under the boots, eliminating the need for bulky gaiters.)

Once you put on your crampons, you should continually focus on good technique, using thoughtful and controlled steps. Running down a slope, climbing while tired, or stepping out of balance are all good ways to either trip or stab yourself with a crampon point.

French Technique (Flat Foot)

French technique is the art of flexing the ankle so provide purchase for all of the crampon points on the bottom of your boot. Most modern crampons have 10 points on the bottom and two frontpoints on each toe. An individual employing proper French technique will engage all 10 of the bottom points to create a high level of security in the step. This is also referred to as the flat-foot technique or, in French, pieds à plat.

In hard snow or icy conditions the flat-foot technique may be used in combination with both the duck walk and a diagonal ascent. The techniques are the same as described without crampons, with one significant difference: You must flex your ankles sideways so that all of the crampon points bite into the surface.

American Technique (Hybrid or Pied Troisième)

As the slope angle increases (usually above 45°) it becomes difficult to maintain diagonal French technique without shifting the toe of your boots so radically downhill—in order to engage all of the crampons’ bottom teeth—that you end up walking up the slope backward. Moving this way is physically demanding and isn’t terribly secure.

Instead, shift one foot out of the French stance and engage the frontpoints in the snow. The other foot should remain flat-footed against the slope. This technique allows you to face the slope and move quickly, while saving the strength in your calves. As the calf in the frontpoint position tires, simply switch feet and allow the pumped calf to rest in a flat-footed French position while the rested foot and leg take over the frontpointing.

Austrian Technique (Frontpointing)

The third crampon method is the Austrian technique, or frontpointing. This technique is reserved for very steep angles—usually in excess of 70°—though some climbers prefer it on somewhat lower-angled terrain.

Frontpointing requires one to kick their crampons straight into the slope, and then to drop the heels approximately 10° below a level stance. Dropping the heels engages not only the frontpoints but the next two points on the crampon as well. The result is that a climber stands on four points, instead of just two, which increases the stability of the placements.

Frontpoint crampon technique tires the calf muscles, and because fatigue is a significant contributor to slips and falls on snow and ice, climbers should use the American technique rather than frontpointing whenever it’s reasonable.

USING AN ICE AXE

Many mountaineers tend to see the ice axe primarily as a tool for self-arrest. But an ice axe should be used primarily to increase security while climbing, in order to decrease the likelihood of a fall. Being able to execute a good self-arrest is important, but the first goal is always not to fall.

Ice Axe Choice

For mountaineering routes, a straight-shafted axe with a gently curved pick and no molded plastic grips or handles, roughly 60 to 70cm long (depending on the climber’s height), will provide the most versatility and security for snow travel, self-arrest techniques, and creating snow anchors.

However, many climbers opt for shorter technical tools for alpine routes and ice climbs, even those that may require serious snow travel en route or during the approach or descent. Some technical tools work better than others in such applications. Consider tools with lower-profile finger guards and grips, a generous spike, and a less radical curve to the shaft.

Leashes

In most mountaineering settings, there is no compelling reason to leash an ice axe to your wrist. The tool is always to be carried in the uphill hand, and using a leash requires the climber to switch the leash to the other hand every time he changes direction on a diagonal ascent. This takes time, decreases security, and takes focus off the task at hand. In most settings, the danger of dropping an ice axe is lower than the risk of destabilization during a transition.

However, using a leash makes sense in contexts where the likelihood of a drop increases. For example, when wearing mittens in extremely cold weather or on high-altitude climbs, a leash is imperative because of the lack of dexterity. (In some cases, it may be preferable to tether the axe directly to your harness, because switching a leash with bulky mittens and clothing can be nearly impossible.) When climbing steep ice, wearing some kind of leash or tether makes sense, because dropping an axe in such a setting could be catastrophic.

How To Hold the Axe: Cane Position vs. Self-Arrest Position

While climbing moderately steep snow, mountaineers have two primary choices of ice axe positions: carrying the axe in the cane position, with the pick forward, or carrying the axe in the self-arrest position, with the pick backward. It is not uncommon to hear climbers argue about which is better. But it’s clear which way is better: The cane position is better when you are actively climbing the mountain, and the self-arrest position is better when you are actively falling off the mountain.

All joking aside, the cane position (piolet canne) provides more stability and should be used in most cases while ascending, for two major reasons. First, it’s easier to firmly set the axe’s spike in the snow when you have the palm of your hand seated comfortably on the flat surface of the adze. Placing the spike effectively in hard snow with the axe in the self-arrest position will eventually bruise the palm of your hand on the narrow edge of the pick, causing you to be less aggressive with the axe. Second, as the angle of the slope increases, it is more natural to transition from the cane position into one of the dagger positions with the axe.

Obviously, one will be slightly slower to move into a self-arrest with an ice axe in the cane position. Some would argue that this compromises one’s safety. But the best way to address that compromise is to practice self-arrest from the cane position until it is second nature and can be employed as effectively as from the self-arrest position. Switch to the self-arrest position only when there is an obvious danger—like crossing a heavily crevassed area on a rope team or traversing a very steep slope—when the climber must be prepared to self-arrest.

Self-Belay Position (Piolet Manche)

The self-belay or “deep plunge” position is a secure technique for steep snow climbing. The axe is pushed down vertically into the snow as deeply as possible, while you continue to hold the head of the tool. The head of the axe becomes a handhold. (In French, manche means “handle” or “sleeve.” Imagine the shaft of the axe down in a sleeve of snow that will keep it in place, creating a good handle.)

There are two ways to hold the axe while employing this technique. In softer snow, when the majority of the shaft is buried, you can hold the head of the axe with both hands. This is very secure.

If the snow is too hard or icy for the axe to penetrate very far, it isn’t effective to have both hands on the head because in a slip you may simply lever the spike out. Instead, one hand can be placed on the head of the axe while the other grips the shaft at the point where it disappears into the snow. In the event of a slip, the hand on top of the axe should push forward, while counter pressure is applied to the hand that is lower on the shaft. In other words, you should be pushing in on the top and pulling out with the hand just above the spike. If pressures are applied correctly, the slip will be arrested by this technique before it becomes a fall.

Anchor Position (Piolet Ancre)

Occasionally a climber will need to make a quick placement with the pick of his axe in order to pull over a bulge or assist with a crevasse crossing. To do this, hold the axe in your dominant hand just above the spike and swing it over your head like you’re pounding in a nail. Right at the end of the swing, flick your wrist forward; this will allow the pick to bite more deeply. Once the pick is placed, you can use both the shaft and the head of the axe as handholds while you climb up over your obstacle.

Low, Middle and High Dagger Positions

On steep snow and ice, most commonly on terrain between 45° and 70°, one or more of the dagger positions may be useful. The climber holds the ice axe at the top of the shaft or on the head while seating the pick of the axe in the snow. Dagger positions work well in hard snow or on névé, but are less effective on hard ice, where the only way to create an effective pick placement is to swing the axe.

The first of these three techniques is the low dagger position, or piolet panne. In this position, place the palm of your hand on the top of the adze as you press the pick into the slope at waist level. This is a quick technique that doesn’t require any changes to the way you hold your ice axe, assuming you started out in the cane position, but it doesn’t feel as secure as some other techniques because the pick is so low. It will be most useful for downclimbing.

In the middle dagger position (piolet appui), place your hand on the shaft of the axe right below the head. This position allows you to push the pick into the slope more forcefully, making each stick feel more secure.

In the high dagger position (piolet poignard), hold the head of the axe, wrapping your fingers over the pick in front of the shaft while you wrap your thumb under the adze behind the shaft. To place the axe, reach high and stab the pick into the slope. A high dagger placement often provides better security on very steep slopes than the other two dagger positions.

Self-Arrest

Failure to self-arrest is a common contributor to the incidents found in these pages, and many climbers are almost obsessively fixated on their ice axe as a tool to arrest a fall. But many times a slope is too steep or the snow too hard or icy for an effective self-arrest. Think of an icy slope of 40° or more and you’ll get the picture: The falling climber starts sliding too quickly to control a slide.

When a fall takes place, a mistake has already been made. Therefore, as we’ve said before, although it is important to practice self-arrest it is perhaps more important to practice the art of not falling. Work on proper foot technique, practice using the ice axe as an aid to decrease the likelihood of a fall, and develop situational awareness by paying attention to your surroundings and managing risk on exposed terrain.

Your risk management strategy should take into account both the condition of the snow and the angle of the slope. In soft snow conditions, even on 40° terrain, a self-arrest may be effective. But in icy conditions, even on a lower-angled slope, a self-arrest may well be unsuccessful. If it doesn’t appear that a self-arrest will be feasible, you may have to alter your climbing strategy, including roping up and belaying or choosing an alternate line.

Depending on the circumstances, you may end up sliding down the slope after a slip in any number of different ways: feet-first on your back, head-first on your stomach, etc. It doesn’t matter how you fall, the goal is the same: Roll into a self-arrest position with the shaft of the axe across your body, place the pick in the snow, look away from the adze, then torque the spike up while lifting with your legs. This should bury the pick deep in the slope’s surface and bring you to a stop. It’s beyond the scope of this article to explain self-arrest in depth: Seek instruction and practice repeatedly. Find a low-consequence slope and take a variety of mock slips and falls in varying positions to get the hang of it. Building good instincts takes repetition.

Most climbers practice self-arrest with a standard alpine piolet. These ice axes were designed with self-arrest in mind and work well for it. Shorter, technical ice tools are not as easy to manipulate into the self-arrest position, and the picks may skitter off hard snow or ice. Those who climb with technical tools should practice self-arrest with such tools until it is second nature.

One great debate over the practice of self-arrest is whether the climber should kick his feet up during an arrest, in order to ensure he doesn’t get flipped over by his crampons, or whether he should bury his toes into the snow no matter the cost. Many climbing clubs still teach the former technique, whereas most guides now teach the latter.

In the event of a fall, the most important thing is to stop. Style points don’t matter. Indeed, even injury doesn’t matter. What matters is that you fight with everything that you have in order to arrest a fall.

DESCENDING ON SNOW

Many snow-climbing accidents occur while descending. Often this is because the climber is tired and not paying attention to the surroundings and the conditions under foot. It is important to stay alert on the way down, and to focus both on the slope below you as well as on your feet.

Plunge Step

The plunge step is an aggressive and direct way to descend a slope of soft snow. Think of it as reversed step kicking. To do it effectively, bend your knees slightly, spread your feet shoulder width apart, and step straight downhill, striking the slope with the heel of your boot. The heel will cut into the snow and create a platform for the rest of the boot.

In harder snow conditions, it is imperative that the heel aggressively hits the slope on every step and that the toe is pointed slightly upward. Try to plunge down and kick back to achieve the proper step. Often people who are not aggressive plunge-steppers may slip and then become more timid in their steps, which leads to more falls and more timidity. If you fall once, don’t back off—be more aggressive in your steps to ensure that your heel cuts deeply enough to create a secure step.

Most climbers will feel comfortable with the plunge step in soft conditions on slopes up to about 40°. In semi-hard conditions, aggressive plunge-stepping should be reserved for slopes that are 35° or under. If the conditions are too hard to plunge-step securely, descending with crampons is a better option.

Shuffle Step

If the terrain is steeper or more exposed, climbers may resort to the shuffle step to increase the security of their descent. This technique is not fast, but is very secure and can be done with crampons on or off, depending on the conditions.

Face perpendicular to the slope and step down with your downhill foot. Now move your uphill foot down into the step your downhill foot occupied a moment earlier. Your ice axe should be in your uphill hand in the cane or self-arrest position, with the spike planted firmly in the snow. Once your feet are next to one another, move the ice axe down, planting the spike once more.

Downclimb

Downclimbing steep slopes on frontpoints or with American (pied troisième) technique is often faster than setting up a rappel. Indeed, in conditions where it’s hard to build a good rappel anchor, downclimbing may even be safer.

Some climbers might feel comfortable downclimbing 60° snow, while others wouldn’t dream of it. If one member of a team is uncomfortable downclimbing a given slope, it may be better to belay him and then solo down. Alternately, you might consider setting up a rappel for the entire team.

Descending with Crampons

The biggest thing to remember when descending with crampons is that it is easy to trip over a gaiter, shoelace, or pant leg while walking or plunge-stepping downhill. For this reason, it is important to splay the toes of your crampons out a little bit on the descent and keep your two feet away from each other. Also, beware of snow balling up under the crampons. From an in-balance position, knock snow off the crampons by banging the sides of them with your ice axe or by kicking one crampon against the side of the other.

Glissading

Many mountaineers ascending lower-angled mountains look forward to the adventure of glissading down snow slopes after their climb. There are three types of glissade that a climber can employ: standing glissade, three-point glissade, and sitting glissade. But losing control of a glissade is a contributing factor to many accidents. Following four guidelines can help minimize the risk.

Never glissade with crampons on. People get injured every year because they wear crampons while glissading. If you’re wearing crampons, it’s probably icy, and if it’s icy you probably shouldn’t be glissading. Second, and perhaps more importantly, if you’re wearing crampons while glissading quickly, you could easily snag a spike on hard snow or ice, with the possibility of breaking an ankle or leg.

Never glissade while tied into a rope team. If you are roped up, it should be because there are hazards that require a measured and controlled approach. Sliding down the hill is the antithesis of measure and control.

Never glissade on a glacier. If you are on a “wet” glacier, then it is likely that you are roped up to manage the crevasse hazard. The preceding rule states that glissading while roped up is never advised. If you’re not roped up, glissading on a glacier opens the possibility of a crevasse fall, which almost always has severe consequences.

Always make sure you can see where you’re going. You should not glissade if there is any fog or rollovers to negotiate. Glissading off a cliff, into a moat, or onto talus is a terrible way to end your day.

SNOW CLIMBING STRATEGIES

There are many snow-climbing situations where climbers may choose to move together while roped to one another. The most common is to protect against a crevasse fall. But this technique also may be used to protect a team from a fall down snow or ice through the use of a running belay.

To rig a running belay, the leader places snow or ice protection and then clips the rope to it. As the second approaches, he can either clip the rope behind him as he passes the protection to safeguard the remaining climbers or—if on a two-person team—remove the protection. If an individual on the team falls, he may pull the others off, but the protection between the climbers will theoretically arrest the fall, limiting the damage of the incident.

In some settings, it might be more efficient and perhaps even safer for the climbers on a team to unrope and “solo” a slope. Imagine a slope that’s not steep enough to require belaying individual pitches, and that, in order to move quickly, you make a team decision not to employ a running belay. On steep or icy slopes where self-arrest is unlikely, the slip of a single climber roped to the rest of the group could result in the loss of the entire team. In such a situation, it might be safer for the individual climbers to unrope.

The decision to unrope should not be made lightly. First, you must consider the reasons that you employed a rope in the first place and determine if those risk factors are still valid. Second, you must feel confident in the ability of each member of your team to solo the slope safely. If you have any doubts about a team member’s skill, you should continue to use the rope and either employ running belays or stop and belay each climber up or down the slope.

Timing the Climb

Many accidents take place because of unstable snow. In a spring or summer context, this often includes the combination of wet slide avalanches, collapsing cornices, and weak snow bridges over crevasses. These dangers may be mitigated by an early morning ascent.

On glaciated peaks and on peaks with a lot of objective hazard, it’s not uncommon for spring and summer climbing teams to leave camp between midnight and 4 a.m. Teams should estimate how long it will take to climb the mountain and descend, and then plan a departure early enough to ensure they are off the snow before the sun dangerously warms the slopes.

During the colder months and in colder regions, parties often elect to climb during the day. The cooler temperatures provide a margin of safety that is similar to that experienced by night climbers in the spring and summer. However, it is not uncommon for temperatures to warm and for parties to have to adapt their schedules to the weather. Those who do not adapt to the conditions put themselves at risk.

Ideally, mountaineers will encounter firm, easily climbed snow during the ascent and softer snow—but not too wet or soft—for a rapid, easy descent. Timing a climb to find such conditions is a key aspect of the craft of mountaineering.

Making Good Choices

Effectively moving on snow involves a matrix of skills and decisions. An individual who has mastered such techniques will not be immune from appearing in these pages under the heading that reads “fall on snow,” but he or she will certainly be much less likely to have an accident.

Most importantly, a casual, “make it up as you move along” approach to snow travel is not safe. You will most successfully deal with each slope angle and each type of snow or ice under foot by applying a specific technique, and the techniques required can change repeatedly over a relatively short distance. When you have learned and practiced the complete repertoire of fundamental skills discussed here, you always will be making “best choices” for each step of your climbs.

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ABOUT THE AUTHORS

Dunham Gooding founded the American Alpine Institute in 1975 and has taught courses and guided expeditions in the Cascades, Canada, Ecuador, Bolivia, and Patagonia. He has served as chairman of the National Summit Committee on Mountain Rescue, president of the American Mountain Guides Association (AMGA), and president of the Outdoor Industry Association. Jason D. Martin is the director of operations and a senior guide at the American Alpine Institute. He is on the board of directors of the AMGA and has written two guidebooks and co-authored Rock Climbing: The AMGA Single Pitch Manual.

Special thanks to Bryan Simon, who helped analyze snow-travel accidents reported in the past decade of Accidents editions.

Avalanches

Know the Ropes

Originally Published in Accidents in North American Climbing 2020

Written by Matt Schonwald

LAST JUNE I was guiding three people for a ski descent of the Coleman-Deming Route on Mt. Baker. Wind the previous day had exceeded 20 mph, loading fresh snow onto the Roman Wall, the 40° headwall before the summit plateau. I first guided this route in 1999 and knew this slope had seen multiple avalanche accidents, including the first recreational avalanche fatalities in Washington, when five people died in July 1939, entombed in the crevasses below the wall.

We skinned up from our 6,000-foot camp, with an icy wind blowing down from the summit. The new snow was soft and ankle deep, but the wind concerned us—would we have a serious avalanche issue with just eight inches of fresh [snow] in June? There was ample precedent: All of Mt. Baker’s climbing avalanche victims have been killed in May, June, or July. Three hours passed and we arrived at the Coleman-Deming Saddle, just above 9,000 feet. I could see several parties descending from the Roman Wall.

I approached a guide I knew to ask why they were heading down. “A party of three took a 300-foot ride,” he said. “They triggered a slab just below the top of the wall. Luckily, no injuries.” Clouds swirled around the wall and no one could see the full extent of the crown. As we turned to descend, someone asked if we could still go up, since the headwall already had slid, and I took a second to respond. Did they not see the snow was unstable? That the climbers who were caught were lucky they had walked away with their lives and no injuries? I realized there was a real lack of understanding among some mountaineers that summer storms can deposit new snow deep enough to avalanche—and that even a small slide can be deadly.

Chart of U.S. avalanche fatalities involving climbers, showing that these fatal accidents peak in May and June, with Washington and Alaska experiencing the most climber fatalities in the United States. Chart by CAIC, annotated by Matt Schonwald

A SERIOUS THREAT

Although a large majority of avalanche fatalities occur in the winter months, avalanches are not uncommon in the long days of late spring and early summer. According to a national database compiled by the Colorado Avalanche Information Center (CAIC), since 1951 in the United States, 39 out of 44 avalanche fatalities in June and 31 out of 43 in May have involved climbers.

Most backcountry skiers and winter mountaineers in avalanche-prone areas have some knowledge of the hazards and carry basic avalanche safety equipment, such as transceivers, probes, and shovels. Many seek formal training in avalanche avoidance and rescue. But preparation for avalanche hazards in the spring and summer mountaineering season is not as widespread or systematic. Most avalanche training is skewed toward winter travelers, and many avalanches that affect mountaineers occur in terrain not covered by avalanche forecasts or after avalanche centers have shut down for the season.

At the same time, the consequences of an avalanche are at least as great for mountaineers in spring and summer as they are during the winter months. As the winter snowpack melts back, additional hazards are exposed. Cliffs, narrow couloirs, exposed crevasses or boulder fields, and other terrain traps make an encounter with even a small avalanche potentially fatal.

Mountains big and small possess the potential to bury or injure you with the right combination of unstable snow, terrain, and a trigger—often someone in your party. It’s not only important to recognize these hazards but also to have the discipline to respect the problem and choose another route or wait till the risk decreases. In preparing to enter avalanche terrain, the mountaineer must be focused more on avoiding avalanches than on surviving one, and that is the focus of this article.

TRAINING AND EQUIPMENT

In North America, the sequence of avalanche education for recreationalists consists of a one-hour awareness class, a three-day Level 1 course for beginners, a one-day rescue course to improve the skills learned in Level 1, and a three-day Level 2 program for amateur trip leaders, such as those leading groups of friends on a hut trip or overnight climbs. Basic avalanche training helps develop understanding of the risks a particular route might present. A Level 2 course teaches trip planners to assess problems in unfamiliar mountains and in the absence of regular avalanche forecasts.

An avalanche rescue course teaches you how to locate and rescue climbers buried in a slide. Mountaineers must be prepared for the possibility of multiple burials, since avalanches in glaciated terrain and on popular routes have a high probability of catching more than one climber. You can find courses through avalanche.org in the United States and avalanche.ca in Canada.

Some mountaineers leave behind their avalanche safety equipment during the spring and summer season, assuming the relatively stable snowpack decreases avalanche hazard. But, as we will see, there are many reasons avalanches may occur during prime mountaineering season, and safety gear—shovel, probe, and avalanche transceiver—should be used if there is any risk of being caught and buried. (A shovel and probe have multiple other uses, including leveling tent platforms and probing for crevasses.) These should be individual gear items—sharing any of this equipment reduces your ability to be located quickly or to dig out your friend.

Again, given the dangers that even very small avalanches present to climbers, recognizing the hazards and planning to avoid them is the number one survival strategy.

This huge slab avalanche in July [2020] stripped the north face of Mt. Belanger in Jasper National Park, Canada, down to bare glacial ice. Photo by Grant Statham

AVALANCHE TYPES

Mountaineering avalanches typically happen in terrain steeper than 30°, above treeline (often on glaciers), and in areas subject to winter-like storms. In other words: the terrain that climbers love. In the spring and summer seasons, when mountaineering activity peaks, climbers may face exposure to:

• Significant storms leaving more than a foot of new snow on your route
• Strong winds( >15mph), transporting snow and building slabs on leeward slopes
• Strong UV (solar) radiation, increasing the risk of triggering wet loose and slab avalanches

Understanding the basic mountaineering avalanche types helps us recognize the hazards we face and our potential solutions to mitigate or avoid the problems.

Loose Snow Avalanches These slides, also known as sluffs, frequently occur as point releases (describing how they start from a singular point and then fan out and entrain surface snow, gaining mass and speed as they accelerate downhill). They can be dry or wet. “Dry Loose Avalanches” occur during or after cold winter storms with periods of rapid snowfall (greater than one inch an hour). “Wet Loose Avalanches” result from warming of the snow surface above freezing, loosening the bonds of the snow grains and creating instability; these may be triggered by falling rock or ice. Even tiny loose snow avalanches are dangerous to climbers—more so than skiers—because they can knock us off balance in very unforgiving terrain. Any avalanche is a serious threat.

During the spring and summer, the intense UV radiation from the sun makes wet loose avalanches fairly predictable, as the slopes that heat first will be southeast-facing and the hazard then moves around the mountain like a sundial. Avoiding these slides requires planning your outing so you’re not on a snow slope that you need to travel up or down, under, or across when the sun hits, whether during the climb or the descent. Watch out for soft surface snow that moves easily, and try to cross slopes near or at the top to avoid being swept by heavy, wet debris.

Late spring slab avalanche in Rocky Mountain National Park. Note the track on the left, which was made by a party of skiers one hour before this slide.

Slab Avalanches occur when cohesive snow rests on a weak layer. If that weak layer fails, the cohesive snow fractures and cracks propagate outward, forming distinct areas that may slide. Slabs are formed from storm snow, which can happen any time of year in high alpine terrain. Wind may build deep slabs on leeward slopes, and warm spring and summer weather can add water to them, making them denser and harder to trigger yet more dangerous when they fail. Spring or summer storms that drop more than one foot of snow, followed by a clear, sunny day, are particularly hazardous. The denser snow near the surface destabilizes the slab and makes it prone to triggering, naturally or artificially.

Wind slabs will form when strong (15+ mph) winds move loose snow into dense layers. Strong winds during storms can turn six to eight inches of new snow into one- to two-foot slabs on leeward slopes such as the Roman Wall on Mt. Baker in the Cascades or Tuckerman and Huntington ravines in New Hampshire, to name a few.

For avoiding slab avalanches, it’s critical to recognize red flags in the recent weather history and forecasts, as is placing camps in appropriate areas before or during storms. Climbers should wait 24 to 48 hours before attempting a route that has had more than a foot of new snow, on a leeward aspect, and/or with exposure to terrain traps.

Cornice Falls create risks for climbers moving along snow ridges or failing to notice a cornice when they arrive on a snowy summit. A cornice collapse also can trigger a slab avalanche on the slopes below. The only solution is to avoid climbing under them or approaching too close, especially during the heat of the day when temperatures are near freezing.

Icefall Avalanches result from a portion of a serac or ice cliff failing in a steep, unstable glacier (think: Khumbu Icefall), creating falling ice hazard. As with cornices, falling ice presents the threat of triggering deep slab avalanches that can run far down a mountainside, threatening camps placed too close to large faces. The random nature of icefalls makes predicting these events very difficult, so the only prevention is to minimize travel time through or under icefalls, especially during the daytime, and to avoid placing camps with exposure to collapsing ice. Learn to measure the “alpha angle” below a peak or face to estimate how far debris from a large avalanche may ow (a good resource is wildsnow.com/10011/alpha-angle-avalanche-safety).

Glide Avalanches occur after a long period of warming, when running water has lubricated the slope underneath the seasonal snowpack, causing it to move down-hill. This movement creates glide cracks, which run through the snowpack from the surface to the ground. Large and destructive glide avalanches may be the result. Glacier-polished slabs in the alpine are particularly susceptible to this problem, requiring route selection and trip planning to limit your exposure.

RECOGNIZING TERRAIN HAZARDS

Most of the “50 Classic Climbs” that are not rock climbs—along with countless other North American mountain routes—offer some seasonal avalanche hazard. In addition, the sheer vertical relief of many alpine objectives makes the possibility of a small avalanche a significant hazard. Many routes cross hanging snow fields with exposed or feature-ridden runouts. Very small loose wet avalanches can travel great distances, entraining loose snow and growing dramatically. You can travel on a valley glacier and still risk burial by these events, because faces over 3,000 feet can turn a small sluff into more than 10 feet of debris.

As you plan a climb or move up a route, look for route features that either make avalanches more likely or increase the hazard of a slide. These include:

*Convexity: Areas where the slope angle increases suddenly—these are places where the tension in the slope will be at its highest, making an avalanche more likely to be triggered
*Concavity: Areas where the slope angle decreases suddenly are also a zone of stress, due to an entire slope held up at this rapid transition from steep to flat
*Slopes with rock features poking through the surface, which can make triggering a storm slab more likely
*Seracs or cornices above a slope—these large, unstable features can injure you or trigger large avalanches
*Cliffs below steep ( greater than 30°) slopes, creating exposure to small avalanches pushing climbers over the edge
*Crevasses below a slope, increasing the chance of a deep burial and fatal outcome

Canada has developed a system to rate terrain based on the exposure to avalanches a party will experience while moving through an area. The Avalanche Terrain Exposure Scale (ATES) is used by Parks Canada, Avalanche Canada, the New Zealand national parks, the Pyrenees in Spain, and in guidebooks and maps published by Beacon Books in the United States.

On popular mountaineering routes across North America, from Mt. Hood to Mt. Washington, and from spring routes in Colorado and the Tetons to the classics of the Canadian Rockies, steepness, exposure to multiple avalanche paths, and sometimes glaciation put most routes in the “complex” ATES rating. Such routes generally share three characteristics making avalanche accidents more common:

*Ascents in features such as gullies, couloirs, or large faces where there is no safe way to avoid exposure to avalanches
*Approaches through terrain traps with unavoidable exposure to overhead avalanche terrain, such as creeks, cliffs, moraines, moats, and crevasses
*Descents via a different route where conditions ares ubstantially different

Recognizing and acknowledging that your route travels in “complex” terrain should prompt you to focus on identifying the areas of greatest exposure, as well as decision-making points along the route, where you can stop and evaluate the likelihood of avalanche activity.

PLANNING THE CLIMB

Planning a safe climb requires identifying areas of exposure on your chosen route and linking the prevailing conditions and forecast to an increase or decrease in the avalanche possibilities.

I use a process that starts with a weather and avalanche forecast (if available). I look at wind, precipitation, and freezing levels, as well as the recent past events from local weather stations. Then I evaluate which terrain is likely too exposed, given the current conditions, and look for routes or peaks where I can avoid unnecessary exposure. With this information, I draw up time plans for various options to get out and climb safely. Let’s go into some detail on these tools, and then I’ll give an example of the planning process below.

Avalanche Forecasts An avalanche forecast or bulletin gives you information regarding the avalanche hazard rating, avalanche problems, recent events such as observed avalanches on a specific slope, snowpack synopsis, and weather affecting the possibility of triggering an avalanche. The main difference between a forecast and a bulletin is the frequency they are issued—forecasts are daily, and bulletins are issued several times a week (at most). The forecast/bulletin will discuss the avalanche problems and show where they are located (distribution), size (how destructive), and likelihood of triggering (are you feeling lucky, punk?)

Most avalanche forecasts are issued from Thanksgiving through April, but most mountaineering avalanche accidents occur outside this period. The local avalanche center also may issue bulletins or seasonal recommendations giving general advice for the mountaineering season. More recent updates can be obtained from rangers, climbing guides, and the general climbing community in the area. Before a trip, visit local blogs (such as the Denali or Rainier rangers’ blogs), guides’ reports (such as the ACMG guides website mountainconditions.com), or community outlets such as regional forums and Facebook groups to get a general sense of conditions and perhaps even specific reports from your planned objective.

Weather Conditions When seasonal avalanche centers aren’t issuing forecasts, it’s up to climbers to use the nearest mountain weather forecast to help predict avalanche problems. Forecast sites I use include Noaa.gov, Windy.com, Mountain-Forecast.com, Meteoblue.com, and Spotwx.com; it’s worth learning to use several forecasting sites. The accuracy of mountain forecasts drops off dramatically after 24 to 48 hours, so it is a good idea to check the forecast daily at least a week before your trip to see the overall trend: stormy, warm, etc. Key data to look for when checking the forecast includes:

• Freezing Level This tells you where snow will start to accumulate and where avalanche problems will develop.
• PrecipitationTotals This often will come in inches of water (or millimeters outside the U.S.) for a 6-, 12- or 24-hour period. (A rule of thumb is that one inch of water equals one foot of snow in temperatures near or below freezing.) Precipitation intensity tells you how fast slopes will get loaded; a rate of one inch or 2.5 cm (25 mm) of snow per hour is considered high intensity.
• Wind The predominant wind direction tells you which slopes will get loaded—e.g., southwest winds will load northeast (leeward) slopes. Pay attention to sustained wind speeds over 15 mph and duration over two hours, which may enhance the formation of wind slabs.
• Remote Weather Station Telemetry You can access online data about the snowpack and recent snowfall from remote SNOTEL sites across North America. (Find links to SNOTEL locations at wcc.nrcs.usda.gov/snow/ or on local avalanche center websites.) You can look at a full season or just a few weeks of weather history.

In the spring and summer, the snowpack typically goes through multiple melt/ freeze cycles, potentially leading to avalanche problems. Early spring (March to mid-April in North America), when the snowpack is just beginning to warm up, is a very dangerous period, as old weak layers can be reactivated, leading to large, destructive avalanche cycles in alpine zones. Key red flags to research and observe include:

• Persistent weak layers, such as melt/freeze crusts, within the top three feet of the snowpack

• Early warm-ups when the winter snowpack has not adjusted to the extra heat input from longer days

• Temperatures above freezing for 24 hours in starting zones. If slopes don’t freeze, the chances of wet avalanches go up dramatically.

• Large rainstorms (greater than one inch of water in 24 hours)

Planning map created on CalTopo for the Disappointment Cleaver route on Mt. Rainier, showing hazard zones and safer rest stops.

Time plans help you figure out what time you need to leave camp in order to safely travel up and down your route and to avoid hazards that increase in likelihood as the day warms. Web-based planning tools such as Caltopo and Hillmap offer the ability to measure distance and vertical gain on your planned route. With this information, you can estimate how much time it will take to go up and back.

I use a method I learned from the NOLS Wilderness Guide, in which you plan an hour for every 1,000 feet of climbing, plus rest breaks. Other systems include the Naismith Rule and the Munter Formula, which takes into account terrain and travel method. The Guide Pace app will do the calculations for you. Whichever technique you learn, a time estimate will help you determine when to start the day, especially when there are definitive spots on the route you must reach by certain times.

PUTTING IT ALL TOGETHER

A good route to examine is the Disappointment Cleaver on Mt. Rainier, as it possesses an enormous volume of objective hazards as well as a history of avalanche accidents, including the deadliest climbing avalanche in Washington history, when 11 were swept away and killed in June 1981.

Before a planned climb in the third week of June, I watched weather forecasts and noticed that temperatures had been cooler than normal and it had rained in Seattle the first two weeks of the month. Low temps and rain at sea level would mean snow up high. I checked the weather stations and saw that several feet of new snow fell between June 8 and 12, with strong winds at Paradise (5,400 feet) and Camp Muir (10,000 feet). Along with the regular climbing challenges, I added wind slabs and loose wet avalanches to my risk assessment and planned to make snowpack observations a part of my travel plan.

The first day on the Disappointment Cleaver route, from the Paradise parking lot to Camp Muir, gains 4,600 feet over 4.5 miles. I estimated our travel time at 5 hours 15 minutes (4.5 hours of movement plus three 15-minute breaks). Our first break will be below Panorama Point, giving us a chance to evaluate slopes that frequently are loaded after new snowfall and wind.

Day two on the DC route gains 4,400 feet and another four miles or so to the summit. The time plan might seem like it should be close to day one’s plan, but roped glacier travel, crevasse hazards, and the higher altitude will slow us down, so our travel time might be closer to six to seven hours to the summit, then three to four hours back. Timing matters, because right out of camp we will travel under the upper headwall of the Cowlitz Glacier. The aspect is southeast, requiring us to consider our return time if there is enough fresh or soft snow to entrain large debris with wet loose activity. There are three more avalanche paths to cross along the route, exposing us six more times to slides (going up and down). We’ll try to reach the summit by 7 or 8 a.m., so we can be back down by 10:30 or 11 a.m., greatly reducing our chance of being under sun-baked slopes.

My map is marked with the route and rest points, along with known avalanche terrain, so I can plan where to stop and make snowpack and terrain observations. A crucial decision point is Ingraham Flats, where I can assess the Ingraham Glacier and Disappointment Cleaver before entering the last big avalanche exposure and the one with the most history. Many ghosts remain in the crevasses here.

ALTERNATIVE PLANS

An essential step in the planning process is considering alternatives. Make a list of possibilities on the same peak or in the same area to maximize your options as conditions come into focus in the last 24 to 72 hours before your climb. If the conditions don’t look good, it’s time to choose an alternative.

What often causes problems at this point is that big climbs are planned days, weeks, or even months in advance. Climbers may travel thousands of miles to climb a specific peak or route, only to find that conditions aren’t right, despite it being the traditional “ideal” climbing season. A warm winter followed by a cold wet spring can lead to lingering avalanche problems well into June and July. Large summer storms can drop several feet of snow in the high alpine. The mountain weather does not know how much preparation and sacrifice you have put into this trip—being humble means seeing the conditions for what they are and not what you wish them to be.

RED FLAGS ALONG THE ROUTE

Sometimes, even when the forecast and conditions reports are positive, red flags may appear immediately before a climb, during the approach, or at camp the night before:

Recent avalanche activity is Mother Nature’s number one sign of instability. Observe the aspect and elevation of slides (similar to your route?) and other characteristics (how big? what layer slid? what type of avalanche? human or natural trigger?).

Lack of overnight freeze to stabilize the snow

Rapid warming (temperatures fast approaching freezing); watch for rollerballs

Heavy rain on steep (>30°) slopes

Isothermal snow, i.e. crotch-deep wet snow, with no cohesion

Storm snow greater than 12 inches (30 cm) in 24 hours and/or precipitation intensity of greater than one inch per hour. Shooting cracks or whumping (rapid collapse of the snow under foot) are signs of unstable storm snow.

Wind speed over 15mph during a snowstorm, creating wind slabs. These will feel denser than the surrounding snow in the lee of large boulders or cliffs.

RESPECT THE PROCESS

If red flags are observed or develop while you’re on a climb, it’s time to consider an alternative route or a nearby peak with less avalanche exposure. Perhaps your schedule allows time to move to a drier part of the range. On expeditions, red flags may mean waiting or even abandoning your climb while other teams go up. Trusting the process requires not believing that other groups know something you don’t; many times these other parties are driven by various human factors often found in accidents.

Human factors that contribute to poor decision-making include the Dunning-Kruger Effect, in which people overestimate their knowledge and ability in the face of complex problems. We’re also prone to attributing “expert” status on people moving through an area we’re not sure about, in order to avoid the doubts we may feel. We may feel time pressure leading to overconfidence (“we’re here, so let’s just do it”).

Such cognitive biases impact your ability to identify risk and consequences. It’s the reason you may continue up a climb despite staring at multiple red flags. My personal trick to keep bias in check is to treat all climbs as predators that are hunting me. If I can’t be confident that I will avoid becoming their meal, I back away.

The most important avalanche safety tools are your judgment and your willingness to recognize red flags and accept that they are pointing to an avalanche problem. Be humble in the face of natural hazards and you will find that as one door closes another will open, whether it is another route, peak, activity, or epiphany. Being open to change will help you climb for a long time—which is the point, after all!

ABOUT THE AUTHOR: Based in Seattle, Matt Schonwald is founder of BC Adventure Guides. He is a certified ski mountaineering guide, a certified instructor with the American Avalanche Association, and a member of the Northwest Avalanche Center Forecast team.

Protection: The "Ins and Outs" of Sport and Trad Climbing Protection

By Ron Funderburke and Karsten Delap, AMGA Guides

Along with a rope, protection is the most essential part of the climbing system. A bolt and quickdraw, a cam or nut—these are the things that keep climbers from taking dangerous ledge falls or hitting the ground. While not the most common cause of incidents reported in Accidents, failures of a lead climber’s protection system occur frequently.

In 2012, for example, Accidents recorded data on 11 incidents where protection pulling out was the immediate cause of an accident. Placing no protection or inadequate protection were contributory causes for 27 accidents. Similar numbers were reported in 2013. So the lead climber’s protection system, or lack thereof, is clearly worthy of consideration as climbers strive to be more skilled, more prudent, and less accident-prone.

While many climbs present rock features that cannot be adequately protected, the vast majority of failures of the protection system do not happen on such routes. As accident statistics continue to demonstrate, an error in judgment, a misunderstanding of protection systems, or lack of technical prowess are more often to blame when the protection system fails in some way.

In this installment of Know the Ropes, we will present perspectives and concepts designed to consolidate best practices in the implementation, evaluation, and reliance upon a lead climb- er’s protection. We will cover the two main genres of rock climb- ing: sport climbing and traditional climbing. 

SPORT CLIMBING

While sport climbing is not the most easily categorized genre in climbing, we will rely on this definition: On sport climbs the entire protection system involves bolts and quickdraws; all bolts adequately protect the lead climber from ground or ledge falls (except in cases of human error); and the anchor components are fixed and permanent.

Sport climbing was created to optimize physical and athletic difficulty by de-emphasizing equipment challenges. Since the lead climber does not need to evaluate the rock, place his or her own gear, or make choices about the frequency and position of those placements, how is that accidents still occur? What kinds of protection-related best practices could reduce the number of sport climbing accidents?

Clip Quickdraws Correctly

When a leader climbs up to a quickdraw and connects the climbing rope, there are two main variables: (1) where the leader’s body is positioned on the climb relative to the quickdraw, and (2) how the climbing rope interacts with the carabiner being clipped.

The first variable is easy to imagine. If the lead climber falls before he/she can successfully clip a quickdraw, the fall length will be shorter if the quickdraw is at the leader’s waist or chest level. If the lead climber reaches overhead to clip the rope into a quickdraw, extra slack will be needed, thereby increasing the fall length if the leader fails to make the clip. Often, doing one more move to reach a good hold will make for an easier clip and less rope to pull up. If this is imprudent or impracticable, the lead climber should be hyper-vigilant and careful when clipping overhead.

If the leader finds he or she can’t reach a good clipping hold or must clip from an out-of-balance stance, two temporary measures may be useful:

(1) Use a “stiff draw,” in which a stick or other stiffener is taped to the quickdraw so it can be grasped low on the draw, giving the leader a few extra inches for clipping out-of-reach bolts.

(2) Clip a quickdraw to a distant bolt and then extend it with one or two additional draws clipped to the first. This allows the leader to clip the rope without pulling up additional slack. For redpoint attempts, a longer draw or sling can be left in place.

In both of these cases, the leader should place a normal quickdraw on the bolt and clip the rope to it as soon as he or she reaches a better stance.

The second important variable in clipping is found in the simple connection between a climber’s rope and a bolt. Common errors include backclipping, gate interference, and carabiner leverage. To avoid all of these errors it is important to remember a few critical concepts.

First, the lead climber’s rope should always travel along the plane of the rock, enter a carabiner from the rock side of the carabiner, and connect to the climber on his/her side of the carabiner’s plane. If the rope is “backclipped” [ see photos below] it can unclip itself from the carabiner when the rope runs over the gate during a leader fall.

Second, a quickdraw should be clipped to a bolt so that the carabiner gates are oriented away from potential interference from rock features like knobs or other protrusions.

Third, to mitigate the risks of a carabiner coming unclipped from either the bolt or the rope, it’s important to assemble your quickdraws so that both carabiner gates are oriented in same direction. The quickdraw always should be clipped to a bolt so that the gates of the carabiners are oriented in the opposite direction from the leader’s anticipated direction of travel. This helps to prevent the rope from rubbing over the gate or pressing against the carabiner’s gate in the event of a fall, potentially unclipping. This also helps prevent the lead climber’s motion and the corresponding rope action from levering the carabiner gate against the bolt hanger, possibly causing it to unclip [see photos below].

Here’s an example: If a climber is ascending a corner and all the bolts are on the left wall, which way should the gates on the quickdraws face? Answer: All the gates should face to the left, away from the climber.

Be cognizant of the different ways the lead climber’s rope and body movements can jostle and alter a carabiner’s position. In the case of a bolt, for example, a quick upward movement can cause a carabiner to load horizontally, backclip from the bolt, or be levered by the bolt hanger. Take a quick look at the draw after you move past it to make sure you didn’t move it into a dangerous position.

If a route causes unusual concern about quickdraws unclipping, assemble a quickdraw with one or two small locking carabiners. Some climbers like to use a quickdraw with locking carabiners on the first bolt of every sport climb—or the first bolt above a ledge.

Finally, even though most sport routes are intended to be climbed without supplemental protection, in some cases placing an additional piece can prevent dangerous run-outs—or simply ease the mind. Check the guidebook for gear recommendations—does it suggest a particular nut or cam? 

Use Reliable Bolts

Bolts can fail for a number of reasons. Maybe they were placed improperly, they could be past their useful life, the rock around them could be compromised, or they could be corroded. While it is tempting to regard bolts as “bomber” protection, all climbers should consider the blind faith they place in these critical links.

Since the developer of a given route is usually not on hand to ask directly, how should lead climbers evaluate a bolt’s integrity? There are three main clues: corrosion, the rigidity of the bolt stud, and the tightness of the hanger.

Many bolts were not designed to be used in an outdoor setting, and extensive visible corrosion should be an immediate warning for a lead climber. Bolts also may be corroded inside the rock with no visible damage. Corrosion is especially common in marine settings (like seaside cliffs), wet or humid venues, or bolts placed in consistent seeps or drainages; climbers should be particularly vigilant in these environments.

If the bolt stud moves up and down, pulls in or out, or if it has visibly damaged the surrounding rock, due to leverage, there is clearly a problem. A quick outward pull on the hanger will usually reveal these weaknesses.

Spinning hangers can be a sign that something is not quite right with the bolt. It is possible a hanger is spinning because the bolt stud has pulled out of the rock slightly. Or a hanger might be spinning because the nut that is supposed to be pinning it against the rock has loosened. In either case, a quick test of the bolt stud, with an outward and side-to-side pull, will suggest whether there is a real hazard. Nuts that have simply loosened from continuous use should be tightened; a slight turn of a wrench should do the trick—the nut should be snug but not over-tightened.

If you suspect a bad protection or anchor bolt, never rely on that bolt alone. Back it up, if possible, or downclimb to better protection before retreating. (Leave a carabiner/quickdraw on a good bolt and lower to the ground.) If you spot a bad bolt and don’t have the tools or expertise to fix it yourself, let the local community know with a note or online post. 

Avoid Worn Or Defective Carabiners

Through repeated use, carabiners eventually become worn and grooved. Deeper grooves create sharper edges, and particularly sharp edges can knife the sheath off a climbing rope or sever it altogether. Similarly, repeatedly clipping an aluminum carabiner to a steel bolt or cable can cause burrs, abrasions, and rough teeth on the carabiner’s otherwise smooth surface. Much like any serrated material, these burrs can seriously damage a climbing rope.

With the increasing popularity of pre-hung draws on sport climbing projects (this includes chain, cable, and nylon quickdraws), more ropes are being cut by carabiners that have been worn and have sharp edges. For example, in 2010, in the Red River Gorge, a leader clipped his rope into a quickdraw that had been left earlier on the first bolt of a difficult route. When the leader fell before the second bolt, his rope severed on the badly worn carabiner in the fixed draw and he hit the ground, suffering head injuries.While technology continues to make carabiners lighter, this can also cause them to wear faster.

Ideally, every carabiner in the protection system should be carefully inspected before use, though this is not always practical (especially when attempting onsights). Yet some climbers still blindly head up every route assuming the fixed gear is in good condition. While the send is important, it is not as important as making sure the equipment is in good shape. 

It is advisable for lead climbers to always hang their own quickdraw on the first bolt of a sport climb equipped with “perma-draws.” The angle between the first quickdraw and the belayer tends to sharpen the carabiner on a permanent quickdraw here much faster than the carabiners higher on the route. If the first bolt is left empty as a standard practice, much of the deep grooving caused by the rope can be avoided, or at least concentrated on the leader’s personal quickdraws. This also makes for easier stick-clipping.

Additionally, any fixed nylon quickdraws should be considered suspect unless you know their history. Damage from UV radiation can degrade nylon and cause the dogbone on a quickdraw to fail.

Burrs and grooves on carabiners are not only problematic with fixed draws but with your personal quickdraws as well. For example, bolts can cause abrasions in the carabiner’s aluminum frame that can shred a climbing rope. To reduce this risk, dedicate one carabiner on each draw to clipping the bolt and one to clipping the rope. 

Avoid Unnecessary Risks

Stick-clipping the first or even the second bolt of a route is a great way to prevent a ground fall. If the first bolt is 15 feet off the ground, the next bolt should be no more than 5 feet higher if it is going to protect a leader from ground fall, given rope stretch and displacement of the belayer as he or she catches the fall. But many sport routes do not adequately protect a leader from ground fall in the first 20 feet. If they haven’t stick-clipped, lead climbers then have to make a personal choice about whether to proceed. Too often, climbers rely entirely on their own ability to get them out of trouble. When a hold breaks or moves prove to be harder than predicted, it is too late to make an informed decision.

Sometimes, when the main difficulties of a sport climb have passed, lead climbers will confidently saunter into ground-fall or ledge-fall terrain, eschewing protection along the way. Skipping bolts and taking victory whippers are two common examples of unnecessary risks. 

TRADITIONAL CLIMBING

Every protection failure that can occur in sport climbing can also occur in traditional climbing. A climber should be just as concerned about faulty equipment, clipping hazards, fixed hardware, and making informed choices in a traditional environment as at a sport crag. Moreover, traditional climbing involves vastly more variables, decision-making, and risk management. Creating and managing the protection system in traditional climbing takes expertise, craft, and artistry. Sadly, failures of the protection system usually result from human error.

In this section, we will discuss some important factors in creating a reliable protection system. We will discuss the placement decisions that result from an understanding of rock quality. Lastly, we will discuss fixed gear and route selection.

Protecting The Pitch

Protecting the pitch is a term that is thrown around a lot, but what a climber is actually doing is creating an integrated protection system. For example, most climbers understand that the terrain before the first piece of protection has an unavoidable ground-fall consequence. From the first piece on upward, the lead climber is creating an integrated protection system that is supposed to mitigate the risk of ground fall, ledge impact, or other incidental impacts (hitting a slab, swinging into a corner, etc.). Unfortunately, lead climbers often climb into ground-fall terrain again before placing their second piece, or fail to protect sections altogether if the climbing feels fairly easy.

As in sport climbing, if you place a piece of gear 12 feet off the ground, your next piece must be no more than 4 feet above this to avoid a potential ground fall. (This is also true of any protruding terrain features like ledges.) Once you are well above the ground you can start to space gear farther apart, but it is prudent to always have a couple of pieces keeping you off the ground in case one fails. (If you find yourself with less than optimal protection, doubling up a placement is a good way to work some redundancy into the system.) In general, climbers should consider the consequences of going more than 10 feet between protection placements—falls of 20 feet or more may easily generate the kinds of forces that can seriously injure a climber, especially on less-than-vertical terrain.

Special consideration must be given to the first piece of gear. It should be able to hold an upward force as well as downward force to prevent zippering. Zippering is when multiple pieces of protection pull out as the rope impacts them in a fall— protection may zipper downward or upward. Depending on the angle between the belayer and the first piece, upward force may be generated when a fall happens and the first piece can be yanked up and out. In some cases, the subsequent pieces may fail in succession due to a similar angle in the rope. [See photos above.] In severe cases, it is possible that the only piece left would be the one that the climber fell onto, thereby reducing the entire protection system to a single piece of protection. Thankfully, most modern cams are designed for multidirectional pulls. They make excellent choices for the leader’s first piece. 

Placing Protection

It would be impossible in an article of this length to fully discuss the placement of removable protection. Suffice to say, all removable protection generally relies on the same principles. When protection fails, it is almost always because one or more of those principles was ignored, overlooked, or misinterpreted. Removable protection requires sound rock quality (discussed later), security and stability, optimal surface contact between the piece and the rock, and an orientation that anticipates the loads that will be applied to it. Trad climbing is full of delightful trickery, but efficient leaders recognize that square pegs pretty much go in square holes.

Orientation: Cams, nuts, tricams, and hexes should all be placed in ways that anticipate the loads that will be applied to them. Nuts should be placed in constrictions in the rock that point downward. Cam stems should point toward the fall line. Hexes and tricams should lever along the fall line. Make no mistake, a lead fall will load the top piece of a protection system along the fall line, so it should be placed accordingly. 

Security and Stability: Once a piece of protection is placed, a variety of forces interact with that placement. Some of those forces can alter the orientation and quality of the placement. The rope, drawing through a carabiner, can swing a placement back and forth. In the case of cams, this side-to-side action can cause cams to “walk” out of their optimal placement. If the swinging motion of the rope creates an outward pull on nuts, hexes, or tricams, they can be lifted out of their constrictions. Managing the path the rope follows is essential if cam and nut placements are to be secure. An appropriate length of extension (usually a long quickdraw or standard 24-inch or 48-inch nylon/dyneema sling) usually can mitigate this problem, because rope action tends to interact directly with the sling, instead of the placement. Another common tactic with nuts, hexes, and tricams is to give a light tug on the placement, thereby mashing the aluminum unit into the rock slightly. (Tugging too hard can make the unit difficult to remove, however.) Lastly, try to place cams in parallel features where you don’t anticipate they can walk.

Square Pegs in Square Holes: It is vital, in terms of efficiency and effectiveness, to place protection in the most obvious ways, in order to optimize the amount of surface contact between the unit and the rock, to make timely choices and placements, and to get the most potential holding power and security. For example, all trad leaders should think of placing a cam when they attempt to protect a parallel feature in the rock. They should think of placing a nut or hex when they see a constriction, and they should think of placing a tricam in oddly shaped pods, pockets, or flares. Cams should be placed within their camming range. Nuts and hexes should have surface contact on all sides of the unit. Tricams should be placed and set within their rotational range. Clearly, there are ways to make any trad piece work in almost any placement, given enough inventiveness. But, when trad leaders resort to putting square pegs in round holes, it should be for unique and demanding reasons, and there should be an understanding of the risks and time cost of these choices. Trad trickery can be an incredible waste of time—and dangerous—if it is indulged too whimsically. It should be needless to say that if gear is so tattered by use and abuse that one can no longer tell if the pegs are round or square, the gear should be retired. When cam slings become visibly damaged or decomposed, they should be replaced. (A professionally sewn replacement sling is an option.) Similarly, frayed trigger wires, nut cables, and hex cables should be replaced with appropriately strong cord or webbing. 

Fixed Gear

Many traditional climbs are replete with abandoned nuts and cams, pitons, and aid climbing gear such as copperheads. These can be efficient to clip, but there can be great hazard in using them as well. Leaders always should be suspicious of fixed gear. Some fixed protection can be visually inspected, but, as with bolts, the key components of fixed gear may be obscured or buried. Imagine the wire on a nut that has rusted completely through, a sling that is mostly cut, the axle of the cam that is broken, or a piton that has completely decomposed or destroyed the rock around it. It is wise to back up fixed gear whenever possible.

Pitons are a remnant of the past in most rock climbing venues but are still placed infrequently in the alpine arena. Pins should be considered no good unless they can be tested with a hammer, which most free climbers don’t carry. Pins can degrade behind the surface but still present a good-looking piece. Any corrosion on the pin can be an indication of corrosion deeper in the placement. Is the piton eye bent or cracked? Is there is any movement up and down? Does it wiggle side to side? Back up pins whenever possible. 

Managing The Rope Line

Unlike sport climbs, protection for traditional climbs may be placed along a wandering crack or other line of weakness, a traverse, a series of overhangs, or other variable features. As a result, keeping the rope running in a straight line is often an intricate challenge. A traditional lead climber should understand that excessive rope drag not only encumbers the leader’s movement, it also decreases the dynamic properties of the protection system, thereby increasing potential impact forces on the protection and the lead climber.

A simple assortment of quickdraws will not suffice. Instead, lead climbers must use a variety of tactics to keep the rope running as straight as possible: placing slings of various lengths; possibly climbing with more than one lead rope; and sometimes downclimbing to remove lower protection once a good piece is placed higher up.

A lead climber should also understand that every sling or extension comes with a consequence: If the distance between the protection point and the attachment of the rope increases, the fall distance increases too. Prudent leaders learn to extend only when necessary to straighten the rope line—and only as far as necessary. 

Rock Quality

Evaluating the rock is at least as important as knowing how to place gear in it. Often, lead climbers are simply trying to get up a pitch and don’t always use all of their senses. Take a look at the rock, first at the big picture and then narrowing to the micro setting. Is this a solid crack or a flake of rock sitting on top of another rock? Can you see debris, ice, or vegetation inside the rock? Look at everything.

Next, how does the rock sound? Using a larger cam or nut to bang around the rock can help determine if a rock is loose, hollow, or perfectly solid. (An open palm or door-knocking motion also works.) The rock provides valuable clues about the viability of a placement. Is it loose? Crumbly? Slimy? Icy or wet? Try to use as many senses as possible to create a complete portrait. 

When a leader must resort to placing gear in less than ideal rock, passive gear may create less prying forces on the rock than cams will; passive placements also may be more secure in flakes or jumbled boulders. Look around for other options. A solid placement off to the side of the route—with appropriate extension—may offer better protection than a placement in poor rock directly on the line. In softer rock (desert sandstone, for example), the leader should place pieces closer together to minimize fall forces. Double up on smaller pieces to decrease the odds of a catastrophic failure. 

Route Selection

When we head out to the crag we should pick routes within our climbing ability, risk tolerance, and technical ability. For example, take the Original Route on Whitesides Mountain, North Carolina, which is rated 5.11a or 5.9 A0. If you are a 5.12 climber but are uncomfortable with long runouts or multi-pitch climbing, this may not be a good route for you. Any of the pitches could be considered “R-rated,” and the first pitch, while only 5.7 slab, is mostly a free solo. However, if you are a solid 5.10 leader with extensive traditional climbing experience, and these pitches are within your risk tolerance, this can be a very manageable route.

To develop your skills as a leader, work up through styles and difficulties of routes to gain situational awareness. Reading topos and getting info from guidebooks and online resources also will help you pick an appropriate adventure and start the risk management process. 

PUTTING IT ALL TOGETHER

If there is a theme that unites all of the strategies in this article, it is simply that informed decision-making is a huge part of safer climbing. Before a lead climber makes any move, there should be an understanding of the stakes of that move. What happens if a hold breaks? Where is my next protection? Given my strength and skill, what is the likelihood that I will make this move without falling? Stress, fatigue, social and performance pressures, and blind faith all are distracting, and these circumstances inhibit sound decision-making in any sport. But in climbing the consequences can be especially severe. While risk in climbing is inevitable, understanding and following the practices we’ve addressed in this article will mitigate that risk and prevent many accidents.

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About The Authors:

Ron Funderburke is an AMGA-certified Rock Guide and the Discipline Coordinator of the AMGA SPI (single-pitch instructor) program. He lives in Mills River, North Carolina, with his wife, Mary, and sons Burke and James.

Karsten Delap is an AMGA-certified Rock and Alpine Guide and co-owner of Fox Mountain Guides and Climbing School. He lives in Brevard, North Carolina, and guides rock and alpine routes throughout the United States. 

Lowering

By Mike Poborsky, UIAGM/IFMGA

Graphics By Rick Weber

This article was originally printed in the 2013 edition of Accidents in North American Climbing.

Lowering a climbing partner is among the most common situations leading to injuries and rescues reported in Accidents in North American Mountaineering, whether it’s lowering a climber after she tops out on a sport route or a partner in difficulty on a multi-pitch climb. In this year’s (2013) Know the Ropes section, we will look at common causes of accidents related to lowering, and provide some best practices for preventing them.

Why is it so important to have a good understanding of lowering skills and techniques? Think about how often we lower a climbing partner. We all do it frequently in single-pitch climbing, whether top-roping, gym climbing, or lowering the leader after he finishes a sport, ice, or traditional route. We tend to emphasize the belaying aspect of these activities, when in fact data shows there is substantial risk of an accident occurring during the lowering phase. Think about it in these terms: If all goes well during the climb, we don’t even use the safety systems in place. They are simply there “just in case” the climber falls. Once the lowering process starts, however, every component in the system engages and is critical to the safety of the climber. Then, of course, there are unlimited scenarios in multi-pitch climbing—whether rock, alpine, or ice—where lowering can be an effective tool to increase the speed of the party or to help a frightened or incapacitated partner.

Based on the incidents reported in Accidents over the past decade, the four most common causes of lowering accidents are: a rope that’s too short, miscommunication, an inadequate belay, and anchor failure. We’ll look at each of these issues and provide basic and advanced skills and techniques to address some of these common problems. Regardless of whether we are lowering from below or above, or are in single or multi-pitch terrain, many of the same skills and techniques are required.

Rope Too Short

More than half of all lowering accidents reported in Accidents in the past decade occurred when the rope end shot through a belay device and the climber fell uncontrollably. It is very easy to misjudge the length of your rope and/or the height of the anchor in vertical terrain. However, most of these unfortunate accidents could have been prevented simply by closing the system. This will make it impossible for the rope to unintentionally pass through the belay device.

FIGURE 1: The triple overhand knot is an excellent stopper knot for the end of a belay rope or rappel ropes.

In a typical single-pitch climbing scenario, where the pitch length is less than half the available rope, the ground closes the system by default, meaning your partner is going to make it back to the ground before the belayer gets to the end of the rope, so closing the system is unnecessary. The problem comes when the anchor is near or above the midpoint of the typical rope. This is increasingly common as new routes are established with anchors above 30 meters (half the typical modern rope length). For some climbs, a 70-meter rope is now mandatory to lower safely. Before trying an unfamiliar single-pitch route, read the guidebook carefully, ask nearby climbers, and/or research the climb online to be sure it doesn’t require a 70-meter rope to descend safely. When in doubt, bring a longer rope or trail a second rope.

Another scenario frequently leading to single-pitch lowering accidents is a climb where the difficulties begin after scrambling five or ten feet to a high starting ledge. The anchors at the top of such routes may be set in such a way that there is plenty of rope to lower the climber back to the ledge, but not all the way to the ground. Or the belayer may need to be positioned on the starting ledge in order to have enough rope to lower the climber safely. Again, do your homework, ask other climbers, and always watch the end of the rope as you’re lowering a partner.

If there is any doubt about the length of the rope being adequate to lower a climber safely, tie a bulky stopper knot in the free end so it cannot slip through the belay device. (The triple overhand knot is a good choice; see Figure 1.) Better yet, the belayer can tie into the free end, thus closing the system.

As you belay a lead climber on a long pitch, keep a close eye out for the middle mark so you’re aware of whether there is enough rope to lower the climber. Once the middle of the rope passes through your belay device, you and the climber need to be on high alert. Rope stretch may provide a little extra room for the climber to be safely lowered to the ground, but in such cases the system should always be closed as discussed above. When in doubt, the climber should call for another rope and rappel with two ropes.

As the climber lowers, it’s natural to keep an eye on her, but as the belayer you should also be watching the pile of free rope on the ground. Once there is less than 10 or 15 feet remaining, make a contingency plan for safely completing the lower. For example, will the climber have to stop on a ledge and downclimb? Will you need to move closer to the start of the route? Never let the last bit of rope slip through the device if the climber is still lowering, even if she is only a foot or two off the ground—the sudden release of tension can lead to a free fall and tumble.

When lowering in the multi-pitch environment, the belay system must be consciously closed by having the non-load end of the rope tied to the belayer, the anchor, or something else to prevent it from passing through the belay device. In a multi-pitch rappelling scenario we close the system by knotting the ends of the rappel ropes, making it impossible to rappel off the ends.

Miscommunication

The three key problems with communication between climber and belayer are 1) environmental, 2) unclear understanding of command language, and 3) unclear understanding of the intentions of the belayer and climber.

Environmental problems include the climber and belayer being unable to see each other because of the configuration of the route and/or the distance between the two; weather conditions such as wind, snow, or rain; and extraneous noises, such as a river, traffic, or other climbers shouting commands or chatting nearby.

In popular climbing areas with many parties on routes near each other, climbers sometimes mistake a command from a nearby party as coming from their partner. It’s always a good practice to use each other’s names with key commands: “Off belay, Fred!” or “Take, Jane!” When one climber is at the top of a single-pitch climb and rigging the anchor for a lower-off, top-rope, or rappel, it can sometimes be helpful for the belayer to step back temporarily so he can see his partner at the anchor and improve communication. When the climber is ready to lower, the belayer can move back to the base of the climb to be ideally positioned for the lower.

Especially with a new or unfamiliar partner, it’s essential to agree on the terms you’ll be using to communicate when one climber reaches the anchor. What do you mean by “take” or “off” or “got me?” Avoid vague language like “I’m good” or “OK.” Agree on simple, clear terms and use them consistently. One common misunderstanding seems to be the result of the similar sounds of “slack” and “take.” When top-roping, consider using the traditional term “up rope” instead of “take” for more tension in the rope, as the former won’t be confused with “slack.”

Before starting up any single-pitch climb, it’s critical that belayer and climber each understand what the other person will do when the climber reaches the anchor: Will the climber lower off, and if so what language will she use to communicate with the belayer? Or, will she clip directly to the anchor, go off belay, and rappel down the route? Many accidents have resulted when the belayer assumed the climber was going to rappel instead of lower, or the belayer forgot that the climber planned to lower, or he misunderstood a command (“off” or “safe” or “I’m in direct”) as an intention to rappel. Before taking the climber off belay, the belayer must be certain that this is the climber’s intention. If you have agreed that the climber will rappel, wait for the climber to yell “off belay,” and then respond “belay off,” and only then remove the rope from your device.

When you reach the anchor at the top of a climb, don’t just clip in, shout “take,” and lean back. Make sure to hear a response from the belayer indicating that he has you on belay and is ready to lower. If you can’t see the belayer, sometimes it is possible to extend your anchor connection or lower yourself a little, holding onto the “up” rope, until you can get into position to make visual contact with the belayer and assure you’re still on belay.

A consideration when lowering someone from above is that the belayer and climber become farther apart during the lowering process, and this may compromise communication. To mitigate this potential problem, I like to position myself where I can see, and hopefully hear, the climber being lowered from start to finish. In some terrain this requires extending the anchor’s master point.

Belay System Errors

A common cause of lowering accidents is belayer errors, especially when the belayer is inexperienced, inattentive, or unfamiliar with the operation of a particular type of device. Make sure your belayer—or any belayer you observe— knows what he’s doing and pays attention until his climber is safely back on the ground or at an anchor. Don’t accept or ignore shoddy belaying!

On single-pitch routes, two things that may cause problems are belayers positioned too far back from the base of the climb—and thus getting pulled off balance and possibly losing control when the climber weights the rope—as well as using an unfamiliar device. Switching between tube-style devices, such as an ATC, and assisted-braking devices like the Grigri can cause inexperienced belayers to mishandle the device. Beware of loaning your device to a belayer unless you are confident that he is well-trained in its use.

What is the appropriate lowering brake for lowering your partner? It’s one that provides adequate friction to control their descent over very specific terrain. In some alpine terrain situations, the redirected hip belay may be totally sufficient for a short, moderate-angle step with high friction. Conversely, lowering directly off an equalized multi-point anchor with a backup may be required in steeper terrain (see Figure 2).

FIGURE 2: Lowering a partner from above with a redirect and backup. A) Belay/ rappel device with locking carabiner clipped to master point. B) Redirect through carabiner clipped to anchor. C) Prusik knot clipped to belay loop as backup—useful for heavier partners or wet or icy ropes.

FIGURE 3: Increasing friction for a lower with a thin-diameter or wet or icy rope, using a Munter hitch on a locking carabiner clipped to the anchor above the belay/rappel device.

In some cases, the most important belay issue may be anchoring the belayer against a violent upward pull in the event of a leader fall or a falling or lowering top-rope climber who is much heavier. In this situation I like to be tied directly into the climbing rope and use a clove hitch to attach myself to a bottom anchor. This way the length is adjustable so I can be exactly where I want with no slack in the system, and the rope provides shock adsorption if the system becomes loaded.

Most people tend to underestimate how much friction is needed to lower their partner in a safe and controlled manner. How do we gain the experience required to be safe? Through time and practice in varied terrain. Be conservative at first and anchor the belayer, increase friction, use a backup—or all three—until the belayer has confidence in judging how much friction is needed. It’s easy to back up a new climber’s belay by holding the brake strand a couple of feet beyond the belayer and feeding the necessary slack. This allows you to closely monitor the belay and provide additional braking if the climber starts going too fast or the belayer starts losing control.

Do you have experience lowering with wet or icy ropes? Do you have experience lowering with modern small-diameter ropes? If not, then I would recommend increasing friction when lowering someone from above (see Figure 3), as well as backing up the lower with a prusik, until you gain adequate experience. Bottom line: If the consequence of losing control of the brake strand is bad, add friction and back it up.

Prior to committing to any lower, consider some “what ifs.” For example, what if something happens when I’m lowering my partner and I need to be mobile? How easy is it for me to escape the system? What if I need to transfer this lower to a raise? Does this system allow me to make this transition easily?

Anchoring Issues

There is much to consider when constructing an anchor, but the bottom line is that it absolutely must not fail, period. (The Know the Ropes article in the 2012 Accidents is a great reference on constructing anchors.) What are some of my concerns when choosing a possible anchor? 1) Will I be using this anchor for climbing and lowering or rappelling? 2) With the resources available, can I construct an adequate anchor in a given spot? 3) How will the rope run once lowering starts? 4) Will the belayer and climber being lowered have visual and/ or audio communication for the duration of the lower?

I have long used the ERNEST acronym as guidance when constructing an anchor. E = Are all pieces in the anchor equalized and sharing the load? R= Is there redundancy in the anchor, meaning that if one piece fails other pieces will take the load? NE= If one piece does fail and the other pieces take the load, will this be done with no extension or shock loading of the remaining anchor? S= Is the anchor material (tree, rock, ice) and/or protection solid and strong? T= Can this anchor be constructed in a timely manner? Just remember, ERNEST should be used as guidance, not a checklist—adjust as necessary. Once an anchor has been established, we must decide how to connect the rope to the anchor.

Sometimes a route may be too overhanging or traverse too much to clean by rappel. In such cases, it may be necessary to clip into the belay rope while lowering (a.k.a. “tram in”) to stay close to the wall and remove each piece. Be sure to communicate each step clearly with your belayer, and never unclip from the belay rope when you are away from the wall (as shown here), because you will plunge straight downward when the tension is released, possibly hitting the ground. Instead, only unclip from the belay rope when you’re clipped into a bolt or the belay rope is taut against the cliff face. Make sure to do this in a place where you won’t hit a tree or the ground when you swing off. PC: Andrew Burr

All top-roping should always be done through the climber’s removable gear, such as carabiners attached to quickdraws, runners, or a cordelette, and not through the fixed hardware of an existing anchor system. The fixed anchors should only be used for rappelling, where the ropes will be pulled without load. A dirty rope running through the anchor system under load causes unnecessary wear at fixed anchors. In fact, at some sandstone climbing destinations where sand easily works into the weave of the rope, locals are reporting 50 percent wear of steel quick- links in a couple of climbing seasons. So whether you are top-roping or topping out on a sport climb, be responsible and climb or lower on your own removable gear. Whenever possible, the last person to climb should rappel rather than lower off once he is finished with the route.

Before leading a sport climb, decide what extra gear will be needed for the anchor. To set up for lowering and top-roping, I like to carry two quickdraws designated for the anchor, one of them equipped with two locking carabiners. Before following a sport climb, decide what extra gear will be necessary to clean the top anchor. I girth-hitch two 24-inch nylon slings to my harness and add two locking carabiners. When I get to the anchor, I clip a locking carabiner to each rappel ring. Now I can thread the rope through the fixed anchor and rappel. There are a variety of techniques for accomplishing this. Regardless of the one you learn, I recommend practicing while on the ground and using the same system every time you clean the anchor.

One subtle but very important difference between rappelling and lowering is that in rappelling the rappel device is moving over a stationary rope, because the person rappelling is simply sliding down the rope. In lowering, the rope is the object in motion and is moving through a stationary belay device. This means the rope is moving over terrain that may have loose rock and/or sharp edges. In general a taut rope over a sharp edge is not a good idea, and one that is moving over sharp edges is just asking for trouble. Before lowering, take extra care to position the rope so it avoids any edges or loose blocks. And, finally, never lower with the rope running directly through an anchor sling—the hot friction of nylon on nylon will quickly melt through the sling, with disastrous consequences.

Be Prepared!

As climbers we all need to take ownership in the ability to problem-solve and be self-sufficient at the crag and in the mountains. This starts by critically thinking about what gear we carry on a given objective. For example, I choose to use an assisted-braking device (such as the Petzl Grigri) for top-roping, sport routes, and gym climbing because of the added security and comfort for holding and lowering a climber. In the mountains and on traditionally protected climbs I use an auto-blocking device (such as the Black Diamond ATC Guide or Petzl Reverso) because it is lighter, much more multifunctional, and it allows the rope to slip a bit when catching a fall, helping to reduce impact forces. Another example: I use accessory cord to tie my chalk bag around my waist, so I always have a cord I can easily convert into a prusik if I need to back up a lower or rappel.

In addition to my harness, protection, quickdraws, and shoulder-length slings, here’s what I typically carry on most multi-pitch climbs, giving me the tools to deal with most situations that might arise:

• Small knife or multi-tool

• Auto-blocking belay/rappel device with 2 locking carabiners

• 2–3 extra locking carabiners

• 5–7mm* cord to tie on chalk bag, doubling as a prusik cord

• 5–7mm*, 18-foot cordelette with a non-locking carabiner

• Two 48” slings, each with a non-locking carabiner

• 1 extra 5–7mm*, 18-foot cordelette with rappel rings (for multi-pitch

  alpine routes)

• 24” nylon sling for racking gear

  * As a general rule, a cord or cordelette needs to be 2–3mm smaller than the climbing rope in order to provide adequate friction for a prusik.

FIGURE 4: When using an auto-blocking belay device in guide mode to belay a second climber, it may be necessary to “release” the locked device when it’s under load, in order to lower the second so he can reach a ledge or retry a move. Thread a thin sling through the small hole opposite the clip-in hole on the device, redirect it through the anchor, and clip it to your harness so you can use body weight to release the device. For additional control of the lower, always redirect the brake strand through the anchor. As a back-up, tie a friction hitch onto the brake strand and clip it to your harness. PC: Sterling Snyder

FIGURE 5: The Munter hitch can be used instead of a device to belay or lower a climber. It’s preferable to orient the hitch with the load strand on the gate side of the carabiner.

Since we are somewhat limited in the amount of gear we carry on a given objective, it makes sense to maximize our understanding of the gear we typically use. One of the most utilitarian pieces of modern equipment is a belay/rappel device with an auto-blocking option, like the BD ATC Guide, Petzl Reverso, or similar. This single piece of equipment has a variety of uses, including the following:

• Standard belay from harness

• Auto-blocking belay from an anchor (see Figure 4)

• Lower from anchor with increasing friction (see Figure 3)

• Lower from anchor with a backup (see Figure 2)

• Simple 3:1 hauling system

• Ascending

• Rappelling

  What if you drop your belay/rappel device? A key technique to know is how to tie a Munter hitch and use it to belay, rappel, or lower from a locking carabiner clipped to an equalized anchor (see Figure 5). When possible the Munter hitch should be tied so the load strand of the rope is on the gate side of the carabiner and the brake strand is on the spine side.

  All of these skills and techniques should be practiced and perfected at your house, in the climbing gym, or at the local crag, in a setting that has minimal consequences if you get it wrong. And please take the time to read the instruction manuals that come with your equipment. They are packed with invaluable information and tips.

  Through time, practice, observation, and reflection we start developing the necessary skills to be a truly competent partner, with the skills to use an alternative system when we, or our partner, can no longer climb, belay, lower, or rappel due to circumstances. I know for certain that we cannot possibly plan for everything that might happen in the mountains, but we all have a responsibility to our partner and the entire climbing community to be as prepared as possible when unexpected situations do arise.

  About the Author

  Mike Poborsky is an internationally certified rock, alpine, and ski guide, and is vice president of Exum Mountain Guides, based in Jackson, Wyoming.

Rappelling

Rappelling was once considered a prerequisite skill for any climber navigating 5th class terrain. It was a mainstay of introductory texts, climbing classes, and novice climbers were often taught to rappel before they ever climbed their first pitch. 

Much of that has changed, and large numbers of climbers enjoy all kinds of outings where rappelling is both unnecessary and perhaps unwise. Many toprope venues do not require rappelling during setup, many sport climbing venues are equipped to quickly clean anchors by lowering, bouldering usually does not require any form of technical ropework (much less rappelling), and most modern climbing gyms flatly disallow rappelling. As a result, rappelling is something that many climbers understand conceptually (having lowered each other) but fewer have actually experienced. As a result, when rappelling accidents happen to beginners we often discover that the contexts of rappelling were not perfectly understood, the fundamental physics of rappelling were confused, and the variability of the rigging was understated or oversimplified by mentors and instructional materials. 

A generation ago, every climber learned to rappel. Early rappel techniques, like the Dulfersitz, helped climbers learn the relationship between the body and rope friction. These techniques still work, but they don't provide many options for backups or added security.

By comparison, experienced climbers have often rappelled hundreds or thousands of times, but an unfortunate number of us also seem to be randomly involved in rappelling accidents. In these cases, preventative practices like knotted rope ends, using backups, and a system of careful double-checks were often overlooked or ignored, even though the value of these techniques is undisputed. 

In this article, we hope to create a resource for novice climbers to understand what rappelling is, the contexts in which it happens most commonly, and a set of principles that should govern the rigging. We also hope to address any reader that may be well into their rappelling career. Perhaps some will find reasons to adopt practices that they have historically ignored, or revise the practices they are currently committed to using regularly. In some cases, this article may simply validate what a reader is already doing, but in that case we hope it might also give them a vernacular for communicating with their friends, students, and mentees. 

What is rappelling?

To put it most simply, rappelling is just lowering your own mass down a climbing rope. In belaying, the belayer remains stationary and the rope moves. In rappelling, the rope remains stationary, there is no belayer, and the rappeller is the thing that is moving.

Once a climber has rappelled a few times, these distinctions seem painfully obvious. But, as thousands of climbing instructors will attest, until a person has experienced the fundamental difference between being lowered and rappelling, it’s not obvious at all. A rappeller has independence, agency, and control in a way that a person being lowered does not. That can be advantageous, but it also means that rappellers sometimes lose the advantages and redundancy of team work.

There are two main variations to rappelling mechanics: fixed-line rappelling and counterweight  rappelling. In fixed line rappelling, a climbing rope is connected to an anchor, the rope remains stationary, and the rappeller can rappel all the way down to the other end of the rope. In counterweight rappelling, a climbing rope is not fixed.  Instead the rope runs freely through a rappel station, set of carabiners, or around an object. In this arrangement, a rappeller must capture both strands of rope within the rappel in order to counterweight around the rappel anchor point, and the rope can be retrieved from below.

In counterweight rappelling, a rope runs freely through a rappel fixture.  As a result, a rappel device must capture both strands of the rappel rope. The rappeller effectively counterweights themselves. 

In fixed line rappelling, the rappel rope is affixed to an anchor, so the rappeller does not need to effect a counterweight. The rappeller can rappel a single strand of rope.

When do climbers rappel?

Climbers rappel for two main reasons, in two primary contexts: single pitch rappelling and multistage rappelling. Both options are slightly different, and a climber learns to adapt the rigging, the device selection, and the anchoring accordingly.

Multistage rappelling happens when climbers ascend a multipitch climb and descend the feature through a sequence of rappels. They climb a big wall, up up up, in sections, and then they rappel, down down down, in sections. 

Single pitch rappelling. Climbers also occasionally rappel when they clean anchors in a single pitch setting. Sometimes, local custom or policy require climbers to rappel when they clean. Sometimes, lowering is not an option. Sometimes, rappelling is needed in emergencies. 

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“The first step in avoiding any climbing incidents is good prior planning.  Get all the information you can from the guidebooks.  It is also a good idea to take a copy of a route topo—even if you have done the route before.  And consider looking at blogs and talking with friends or acquaintances for information.

Equipment inspection before each season—and before each climb—is always important. Is it time to retire your ropes, slings, or harness? Look closely at all the gear to see if there are any obvious wear and tear issues and consult the manufacturers for recommendations.

Double-check any critical system carefully before committing to it.  Look through and inspect all critical links, carabiners, the rope’s integrity, the harness’ key points (buckles, belay loops, and connection points).  It’s always helpful to have a partner nearby so that climbers can double check each other.

Decide how the climbing team will communicate before the need for communication arises, minimize the amount of words needed to relay information unambiguously, and focus on communications that initiate action.”

— Rob Hess, UIAGM/IFMGA. From Accidents in North American Mountaineering 2012.

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Fundamental Principles of Rappelling

1. You should be secure during the setup because rappels are often rigged in proximity to cliff’s edges and precipices, and even careful and experienced climbers are endangered by that kind of exposure. 

2. You should use appropriate backups because a variety of factors make it likely that a rappeller will lose control of the rappel.  

3. You should manage the ends of the rope because we often rappel in the dark, when tired, with unfamiliar ropes and in unfamiliar terrain, and since we often rappel rapidly, the ends of the rope can present a unique hazard. 

4. Avoid Entanglements. Rappelling involves a lot of rope that must be carefully managed and rappel devices that notoriously entrap hair, hoody-strings, straps, and clothing, the last principle asks us to manage the rope and manage ourselves to avoid entanglements.

Security During Setups

There are lots of ways to be secure during setup. Generally, the options fork into two initial categories: technical and non-technical. Non-technical security does not involve anchors or tethers or carabiners. It’s simply staying away from a cliff’s edge or staying seated when setups are awkwardly close to a cliff’s edge.

Technical security uses some sort of tether, sling, PAS, or the climbing rope to connect the climber to an anchor during setup. The context of the rappelling usually inspires a wide range of variations among the tethering methods. 

With their back turned towards a precipitous cliff's edge and their attention focused on setup tasks, these climbers are using technical security (a tether and locking carabiner) to stay secured during setup. 

“Notes on appropriate set up:
Be sure that the rope actually passes through the rappel device properly, that a bight includes the carabiner and that the carabiner / extension is properly attached to harness. If pre-rigging – all partners get eyes on each other’s systems.”

— Rob Hess, UIAGM/IFMGA. Accidents in North American Mountaineering 2012.

Appropriate Backups

A rappel backup effectively provides a backup for the rappeller’s brake hand. If the rappeller were to release their grip of the brake strand for any reason (losing control, rockfall, medical emergency) the backup would effectively hold the rope instead of the rappeller’s brake hand. There are three common variations: a friction hitch backup, a firefighter’s belay, or the use of an Assisted Braking Device.

Friction Hitch Backup

A Friction Hitch Backup can be quickly paired with any tube style rappel device, but the setup has to be precisely configured. If a backup doesn't work when you need it to, it constitutes little more than wasted time, material, and effort. Common examples include friction hitch backups that are poorly dressed, iced or frozen, or they don’t assert enough friction to grip the brake strands with adequate braking power. Also, if a friction hitch backup is too long, it will push up against a rappel device, pushing the hitch along instead of allowing it to grip the brake strands.  It’s important to get the lengths just right so that the backup engages. On steeper rappels, an inverted rappeller can easily bring the friction hitch into dangerous proximity to the rappel device. 

Precise rigging is vital to an effective rappel backup. It's not enough to apply a friction hitch; the distances and positions of all the pieces have to be just right.

When we don't pay attention to the details, when the rigging is imprecise, our backups are ineffective. This climber has wasted a lot of time and energy rigging a backup that won't work.

Since the rigging of friction hitch backups has to be so precise, many rappellers prefer to extend their rappel devices away from their harnesses. In this configuration, the friction hitch backup can be connected directly to the belay loop. In general, extensions allow for a greater margin of error in the rigging of rappels and their backups, which is advantageous.

An extension built with a double length nylon sling positions a rappel device far enough from a belay loop that almost any friction hitch backup will be effective.

An autoblock friction hitch is a great option when tying a rappel backup.  A small loop of 5mm nylon can be quickly deployed for the task.

The auto block is tied by enwrapping the brake strand(s) of the rappel, as many times as the material length allows...

...and the autoblock is completed by rejoining the nylon loop with the locking carabiner.

There are eternal debates about the type and style of extension used to separate a rappel device from the harness. Suffice it to say, there are many adequate options. As long as the option is adequately strong and secure, without compromising overall efficiency, it's probably a good one. Some of the most common alternatives include a Personal Anchoring System (PAS) or quickdraw with locking carabiners. For multipitch rappelling, an extension that has a modular leg can be used to both extend the rappel and clip into anchors during rappel transitions.

A locker draw extension.

A PAS extension.

An offset extension is great for multistage descents.

Firefighter’s Belay

Firefighter’s Belays are effective backups too, but they have to be executed correctly.  To provide a firefighter’s belay, the belayer should be attentive, with eyes on the rappeller and hands on the brake strand(s) of the rope. If the rappeller were to lose control of the rappel, the attentive belayer would pull down assertively on the brake strand(s) in order to effect enough braking force to halt the rappeller’s descent. Much like a poorly rigged friction hitch backup, a firefighter’s belay that is inattentive, loose, or off the fall line will likely be ineffective.

When this climber offers a firefighter's belay, she means it.  She's attentive and ready to halt the rappeller at any moment.

When rappellers lose control it happens quickly and unexpectedly, but a quick and firm tug on the brake strands will bring the rappeller to a halt.

Managing The Ends of the Rope

Managing the ends of the climbing rope is often a vital technique to keep rappellers from rapping off the end of the rope. Commonly, the ends of the rope are either conjoined or bulky stopper knots are tied, such that the knot that would ram into a friction hitch or rappel device, reliably arresting the rappel.

A pair of bulky stopper knots are among the easiest ways to manage the ends of the rope.

Conjoining the rope ends and carrying them to the ground has the added advantage of managing the ends of the rope while also avoiding tossing ropes down the cliff.

Avoid Entanglements

It’s important to keep anything from getting snagged in a rappel tool, and it’s also important to keep one’s ropes organized and moving fluidly. Entanglements of hair, clothing, or the rope can create serious problems while rappelling, especially in adverse conditions.

Tossing Ropes

It is rarely necessary or expedient to throw ropes down a cliff. Often, the tails of rope can be gently lowered to the ground, or a bight of rope can be lowered and the tails carried to the ground by the rappeller. It’s also likely that tossed ropes will land on other climbers, in places that are difficult to retrieve (trees or cracks), or places that are awkwardly gross (mud, poop, carrion, etc). A rappeller can avoid entanglements by avoiding tossing ropes.

Conclusion

It is a worthwhile thought experiment to imagine how climbers create margins of error, how we use backups, and how/when we selectively (and hopefully carefully) disregard those techniques. Typically, a climber navigating 5th class terrain uses a rope system to mitigate the risk of ground or ledge impact, but sometimes we intentionally neglect to place enough protection to effectuate the rope system we’re tied to. Those are enormously risky behaviors, but we tend to engage in them quite readily when we perceive there to be a low probability of incident, like when the climbing is easy or unremarkable. Similarly, a small portion of climbers free-solo in 5th class terrain, and their calculation is identical: they perceive there to be a low probability of incident, and they therefore eschew a rope system altogether.

The indisputable reality is that good climbers fall off of easy terrain every year.  Experienced rappellers lose control, rap off the ends of rope, or incorrectly rig their rappels. As a species, humans don’t always reconcile their rational/analytical response to risk with their intuitive/emotional response. As a result, best practices like using backups, managing the ropes ends, staying secure during setups, and careful double checks are often characterized as overly conservative, burdensome, and slow. Similarly, eschewing these practices altogether, which is actually tantamount to free-soloing in a demonstrable ways, can be characterized as a matter of preference, style, or status.

Instead, take the time to appreciate that each rappel is merely similar to all previous rappels. In quantifiable ways, every rappel is also dissimilar to all previous rappels.  If that is true, the way we rappel is also merely similar to the way we rappelled on every previous occasion. The solutions we use to descend our next rappel will be unique in appreciable ways. So, the fundamental principles of rappelling can be used as a unique questionnaire for every rappel.  A rappeller should have compelling and accurate responses to each of these questions before rappelling:

Am I secure while I setup the rappel?

Am I using appropriate backups?

Am I managing the ends of the rope?

Am I avoiding entanglements? 

Know the Ropes: How to Rappel  

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Climber Communication

 

In the United States, many incidents and inefficiencies are caused by miscommunication within a climbing team. Often, highly consequential information needs to be relayed between climbers and belayers, and miscommunicating that information has unfortunately resulted in grave consequences. At the American Alpine Club, we have been gathering these unfortunate stories for over a century, and many incidents could have been entirely avoided had the team communicated more clearly. However, any skill that involves the use of language tends to resist standardization; it’s a challenge that has frustrated American climbers in all disciplines.

One of the first climbers to try to address these challenges was Paul Petzoldt. In The Wilderness Handbook he writes, “Unindoctrinated by the standard European techniques and philosophies of [the world war-era], I developed some new skills and ideas. I invented the first voice-signal system (now universally used in America).” American climbers have largely adopted and gravitated to some version of Petzoldt’s verbal commands for the last 100 years, because his assertions are as true today as they ever have been. Petzoldt wrote:

The human voice is difficult to hear and understand on a mountain. The belayer might be out of his companion’s sight, words do not carry well around rock projections, wind and rain sometimes make conversations impossible, even at short distances. Because of such interferences, I have developed voice signals that are brief and intelligible even when faintly heard.

Petzoldt’s innovation was insightful, and it informs the concepts espoused in this article. But, the Petzoldt voice signals that sound so familiar to so many climbers, can easily be obfuscated by a busy crag, dialect or nuances in pronunciation, and by the use of names within the voice signals—names distort the syllabic distinction that Petzoldt originally devised.

Communication, as a concept, has to be grounded in something less complex than language or speech or any group of practices that is so easily undermined by the nuances of dozens of individual cultures. It’s important to remember that communication is not always about language. Climbers who do not have the ability to hear, to speak, or to see have always managed to communicate with others, and those individuals climb in the United States as well. There is a need to address climber communication in a way to focuses on the essential goal climbers are trying to achieve, and language is only one of many ways climbers communicate.

In this article, we will explore why communication is so vital to climbers. We will explore the principles that should govern communication in all contexts, and from those principles we will make recommendations that are mostly likely to work in most contexts.

Why is Communication so vital to climbers?

Communication often results in establishing or relinquishing safety systems, like a belay, and establishing or relinquishing a safety system inappropriately can be dangerous.

AND

Climbing environments make communication difficult. Climbers find themselves in cacophonous surroundings (windy and rainy conditions, busy crags and climbing gyms with lots of competing voices, loud environments like roadsides, roaring rivers and streams, chirping and singing wildlife). Climbers are often out of sight of one another, making traditional nonverbal communication difficult.

Climbing environments often make communication difficult.  The sound of the ocean, in this case, makes it important address the fundamental principles of effective climber communication before the climbing starts.

Fundamental Communication Principles

Fundamentally, all formal climbing communication serves to mitigate the inherent hazards of climbing. Many of the climbing commands typically employed concern management of the rope system, which in turn affects the belay and the security of the person being belayed. The simple command “On belay” may be the best example of a rope system command. An additional set of commands exists to address the hazard of falling objects, “Rope!” and “Rock!” being the most prominent examples.

Effective formal communication in a climbing system relies on commands that follow three foundational principles:

Communication Agreement. Communication between climbers and belayers should be anchored to a script that is agreed upon prior to the need for the communication.

Communication Precision. Communication should strive to minimize the amount of oral traffic needed to relay information between parties.

Communication Action. Communication should imply an impending action, and therefore should unambiguously initiate that action. Communication also may be used to affirm the completion of an action.

Communication Agreement

Climbing commands are only effective if all members of the climbing party agree on what commands will be used and the explicit actions they imply. For example, there are a number of commands associated with eliminating slack from a belay system, including, “Take,” “Tension,” “Up rope,” and “That’s me.” Each of these commands carries a nuanced meaning that must be known by the belayer in advance in order for her to respond appropriately when her climber issues such a command.

Every climber can appreciate what it's like to call for tension in the rope system.  Paul Petzold originally specified "TENSION" as the preferred voice signal, because it has two syllables, just like all the other commands that involve tightening the belay.  Today, "TAKE" is a common command, but the single syllable can easily be confused with "SLACK," which is the opposite of what this climber wants right now.

Establishing different formal climbing commands prior to every climbing outing with a new partner can inconvenience the climbing experience in little ways, but it's almost always worth the a little inconvenience at the beginning of the day in order to avoid an accident. Once the communication agreement has been established, a climbing team can default to that agreement until the conditions or the context necessitates an adjustment.  

There are common tropes and patterns that speakers of American English will recognize, regardless of region or background. Still, slight variations persist from one group of climbers to the next, and climbers should engrain the ritual of affirming their communication strategy before the climbing outing begins. The most common theme in miscommunication-related incidents involve climbers who neglected to have a vital “agreement” conversation prior to their climb. A simple conversation would have alleviated the confusion.

Communication Precision

Another common theme in miscommunication is over-communication. The climbing team might attempt to rely on informal communication and conversation when precise and unambiguous commands are needed. The communication might be redundant and therefore unnecessary. In both cases, the climbing team fails to appreciate that precision (communicating a precise action, no more and no less) is a fundamental concept.

When conditions are challenging, informal communication should be entirely eliminated to prevent miscommunication of important formal commands. For example, if the leader has climbed around a corner and into the wind, she would be wise to only use formal climbing commands with her partner to prevent being taken off belay prematurely.

Similarly, redundant commands over-communicate and create ambiguity. Some novice lead climbers use the commands “Clipping” and “Clipped” to inform their belayer that they will be clipping the rope into a quickdraw. “Clipping” implies that the leader will need additional slack to clip the carabiner; the formal command “Slack” is already used to alert the belayer to introduce slack into the belay system. “Clipping” is therefore a redundant communication.

“Clipped” suffers from problems with both redundancy and ambiguity; two meanings may be implied. First, the leader may be asking the belayer to remove unnecessary slack from the belay system (in which case a number of commands may do the job). Second, the leader may also be asking the belayer to check the clip: is the leader back-clipped? Z- clipped? Often, this task is impractical or impossible for the belayer to accomplish. Finally, both, “Clipping,” and, “Clipped” are unnecessary assuming the belayer is attentive. No system of communication, even if it is fundamentally thoughtful, can compensate for inadequate belaying.

"CLIPPING" and "CLIPPED" are rarely vital communications if the belayer is attentive.  A climbing team that prioritizes precision will eliminate unnecessary communication in order to minimize ambiguity and miscommunication.

When communication become challenging, eliminating unnecessary command or conversation allows the climbing team to anticipate essential climbing commands based upon their previous communication agreement.

Communication Action

Communication should have a clear and unambiguous relationship with an impending action. For example, “Off belay,” is often used to initiate the deconstruction of a belay system. As any climber can appreciate, the action that corresponds to the communication is often highly consequential, and in many cases an affirmative response to the action helps signify the severity of the action that has occurred. Climbing teams will often use affirmative responses like “Belay off” to signify the completion of an important action. However, any command which does not include or affirm a call to action can easily be interpreted for something it is not intended to be, and such inactive communication should be avoided.

For example, some climbers use the command, “Safe,” or, “In direct,” to imply that they are secured to an anchor in some way. However, these commands are superfluous--there is no action for the partner to take in response to this command, nor is there a corresponding affirmation. Instead, the climber could simply say “Off belay” if intending to secure herself and belay from above as in a multipitch climb. Alternately, the climber could say nothing at all and simply request “Slack,” if cleaning an anchor on a single pitch climb, for example.

Fundamentals of Communication in Practice

The following examples explore the use of fundamental communication principles in real-world scenarios and demonstrate an application of those principles to scenarios that are familiar to many climbers.

Scenario 1: Casual cragging with lots of other parties.

Perhaps the most frequent scenario in modern climbing has the climber and belayer starting together at the base of a pitch. Whether leading or top roping, the commands used are the same. Drawing on the most common climbing commands in the United States, our climber, Maria, queries her belayer: “Jorge, are you on belay?”

As the formal climbing command is a call to action, Jorge physically checks the entire belay system, ensuring his belay device is loaded correctly, the carabiner is locked, his harness is fitted properly, the rope is running properly through an adequate anchor if appropriate, his climber’s harness is fitted properly, and his climber has tied into her harness correctly. When appropriate, Jorge also ensures both he and his climber are wearing helmets. Only after completing all of these checks and confirming them with his partner can Jorge say, “Maria, your belay is on.”

In their communication agreement, Jorge and Maria decided to use each other’s names in their verbal commands. This strategy is particularly important when communicating in a crowded location or noisy environment, such as a climbing gym or a busy sport climbing crag. In the multipitch setting, preceding the command with a name is equally important as it alerts the recipient that a command follows and ensures that adjacent parties do not misinterpret the other party’s communication for their own.

With climbing teams all climbing side by side, the use of names in voice signals is an advisable part of any communication agreement.

Jorge and Maria will use each other’s names to precede all of their verbal commands today, because that is part of their communication agreement, it is a precise way to specify which commands are directed to whom, and the teams needs a way to differentiate between vital commands that initiate action and the informal banter that will surely characterize their time at the crag.

Scenario 2: Multipitch Climbing

Jorge and Maria are now on a multipitch climb. They begin a pitch sharing a stance at an anchor together, so communication is straightforward prior to the lead. However, once Maria tops out the pitch, there’s a need for terse, precise, and unambiguous action-oriented communication. Belays will be deconstructed and the climbing team will be transitioning from one safety system to the next.

In their communication agreement, Jorge had two main concerns. Jorge wanted to know when exactly to start removing his belay device. He had an experience in the past when he thought the leader said “Off Belay.” On that day, the leader was actually shouting to a rappelling party, “I’m out of the way.” Jorge took the leader off belay prematurely that day, and he never wants to make that mistake again. On a completely separate outing, Jorge was taking his GriGri off the rope when the leader started pulling up the rope. The unexpected tug of the rope yanked Jorge’s GriGri out of his hands and it fell all the way down the cliff. Jorge doesn’t want to deal with either of these miscommunication problems again.

Maria and Jorge agreed that names will be less important today on this isolated climb; no other climbers are around. They’ve also agreed that when the leader shouts “Off Belay,” the belayer will immediately shout “Belay Off.” The leader will have one last chance to object, if Jorge has misheard the verbal command. Jorge agrees to wait a short second before deconstructing the belay.

Also, the leader agrees not to start pulling up rope until she hears the belayer shout “Maria, Up Rope.” It’s important for every climbing team to appreciate that Maria and Jorge could’ve agreed on a completely separate sequence here, and a completely separate set of commands to communicate that sequence. The vital point here is the relationship between prior agreement and precision; Maria and Jorge are being conscientious about both fundamental principles.

When the rope is tensioned against Jorge or his attachment to the anchor, he’ll inform his partner by saying, “That’s me.” This signals to Maria that the tension she feels in the rope is due to Jorge’s weight and not some other potential predicament, such as the rope being wedged in a crack or ensnared around a horn of rock. Maria’s call to action with this command is to put Jorge on belay immediately. “On Belay”

Jorge can now prepare to climb, secure in the knowledge that he is belayed from above. When he is ready to climb, he can inform his belayer with a simple, “Climbing!” A reply of, “Climb on!” will see Jorge to the top of the pitch to rejoin his partner.

Note that in the above exchange, Jorge does not query Maria as to whether he is on belay. There is no need as Maria will put Jorge on belay in response to the command of, “That’s me.” Further, Jorge may not be able to see Maria as she concludes her lead. Consequently, he will likely not know for sure when Maria has established an anchor and is ready to belay. In the best case, voicing, “On belay?!” will not elicit a call to action from Maria other than to say “No, not yet,” unless Jorge happens to pick just the right moment to ask. Asking if he is on belay simply introduces unnecessary, informal communication. In the worst case, shouting, “On belay?!” may be misunderstood as “Off belay!” Maria is likely to find this rather alarming if she has yet to complete her lead.

Scenario 3: Communicating without Commands

It is possible for a climbing party to communicate unambiguously without the use of verbal commands, thereby eliminating the potential for poor verbal communication or miscommunication. Provided the party can agree up on a system in advance, this is readily achieved. Let’s revisit the example in scenario 2 to see this in action.

Maria reaches the top of the pitch and secures herself to the anchor. Because they suspected the possibility of poor communication, Jorge and Maria agreed in advance to use only the necessary formal verbal commands. As Maria is secured to the anchor, she shouts, “Off belay!”

Unfortunately, Jorge is unable to hear this command. However, he knows that there are only two reasons that he might need to feed rope to the leader. Either Maria is still leading, or she has arrived at the belay stance and is pulling up excess rope. Since Jorge is unsure which is the case, he simply continues belaying until he reaches his end of the rope. As he did not hear Maria issue the “off belay” command, he has no reason to affirm this command. Instead, he skips this and simply proceeds to the next command, “Maria, that’s me!” He then removes his belay device from the rope.

Maria has pulled the rope until it is tensioned and thinks she hears Jorge shout a command to her, but she’s not positive. Regardless, her next step is clear: put Jorge on belay. She does so promptly and shouts, “On Belay!”

Meanwhile, down below, Jorge is diligently waiting to climb. Prior to starting the climb, Maria and Jorge agreed to a 30- second waiting period. After shouting, “Maria, that’s me!” Jorge waits 30 seconds and then removes himself from the anchor to begin climbing. He does this knowing that Maria will promptly put him on belay after the rope is tensioned, a task that should take no more than 30 seconds. Jorge and Maria could have agreed to any amount of time they felt appropriate; again the prior agreement is the important thing.

After the agreed upon amount of time, Jorge bellows, “Climbing!” and makes a couple moves. He has one last chance to make sure that he is on some form of belay. He’s making sure the rope is travelling up, in the characteristic progression of a belay cycle. In this sequence, Jorge and Maria have accepted that it might also be possible that Maria is not actually belaying. It is possible that she is still leading, and the team is now accidentally simul-climbing. Even though it’s scary and hopefully avoidable, Jorge and Maria appreciate that Jorge will have to climb in that scenario, even if he’s not on belay. What choice does he have?

Meanwhile, back at the top of the pitch, Maria cannot hear Jorge, but she can feel the slack in the rope he generates by climbing. She pulls the rope through the belay system and after a few feet of movement is sure Jorge must be climbing. As a confirmation, she yells, “Climb on!”

Troubleshooting Communication Challenges

Select belay stances and pitch lengths that enable communication, when feasible.

Occasionally, verbal communication is challenging or impossible. This happens most often on multipitch routes and can result from many factors, including a pitch that traverses around a corner or crosses a ridgeline, high winds, or stretching or linking pitches. The best strategy for these situations is simply prevention. Whenever possible, select stances that enable good verbal communication, or even visual communication if possible. Research the route thoroughly to know when your partner might be out of touch. Consider belaying at an appropriate stance even if the guidebook does not indicate the stance as a typical belay point.

This climbing team could have chosen to belay an any number of places.  The huge river gorge, the imposing rough, and the presence of other climbing parties nearby compelled the party to shorten the pitch-length and optimize communication.

The conventional wisdom is that stretching the rope and linking pitches results in a faster ascent as there are fewer belay transitions to be made. However, 15 minutes wasted shouting to a partner 200 or more feet distant certainly bears a greater time cost than two or even three efficient belay transitions.

Visual communication is helpful when verbal commands are inaudible.

Unfortunately, sometimes poor verbal communication simply cannot be prevented. This leaves a few options for alternative communication systems. A visual command system is one such solution. Such a system needs to be established in advance, but can be effective provided that appropriate belay stances are selected. Most often, a negative and affirmative command are all that is needed. For example, when the leader reaches the top of the pitch, she secures herself, then leans out to look down at her belayer and makes a slashing motion across her throat, indicating, “Off belay.” When the belayer has removed the belay device from the rope, he returns the signal. When the leader has put the follower on belay, she leans out and gives a thumbs-up signal straight overhead, indicating, “On belay.”

Beware of Rope Tugs.

A more common approach is a system of rope tugs used by the leader to communicate with the follower when she is off belay. Unfortunately, any system relying on rope tugs introduces significant ambiguity and the potential for miscommunication. For example, the climbing party may agree that three rope tugs from the leader means, “Off belay.” However, the leader might also issue three similar feeling rope tugs as a result of a potentially stuck rope or simple rope drag. If the belayer interprets this as a call to action, though, the leader may find herself unintentionally off belay for the remainder of the pitch.

Many climbing parties enjoy success with the rope tug technique, and their success usually hinges on a smoothly executed rope line, and a discipline avoidance of any rope movement that could be interrupted as a tug.

A second rope can be a communication tool too.

When climbing with two ropes, whether half ropes, a lead line and tag line, or as a party of three, the leader can unambiguously communicate the “off belay” command. Upon securing herself to the anchor, the leader’s next step is to pull up the ropes. By pulling up the trailing line first (or only one of the half ropes), the leader can clearly indicate that she is stopped at the belay stance as the lead rope is not moving.  

Just like the rope tugs, there can be opportunities for ambiguity here.  It helps for the climbing teams to consciously avoid these signals.  If the isolated movement of one of two ropes is agreed to be an "Off Belay" signal, a leader should not move that rope independently unless she is off belay.

Radios, Cell Phones, and Technology

FRS radios are another option and can ease communication considerably over long distances or in poor conditions. However, radios have a number of drawbacks, including weight and costs. Further, radio communication quality varies, both in transmission clarity and range. Additionally, radios rely on battery power, yielding an additional battery to manage. Should batteries die, over- reliance on radios may also leave a party ill-prepared to use an alternative form of communication. Despite these costs, radios can be effective and beneficial in appropriate contexts, such as multi-party climbing, expeditionary climbing, and complex ski descents. Similarly cell phones and text messages have a comparable potential and drawbacks. These technologies all present the same conclusion to a climbing team: do not rely too heavily on technology. Climbers have been communicating quite effectively without these technologies, and those traditional communications skills have value. 

Pre-Climb Communication

Special Thanks to Contributors

Derek Debruin is from Weber State University in Ogden Utah.  Derek is an AMGA certified Rock Guide and owner of Bear House Mountain Guiding.  Derek wrote much of the content of this article.

Also, members of the AAC Education Task Force were enormously helpful with feedback and commentary on this article.  Special thanks to Mark Vermeal, Jon Tierney, Dale Remsberg, Dougald MacDonald, Aram Attarian.  AAC Staff were also a great help.  Thanks Phil and Whitney in particular.

Belaying

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The following article is reproduced from the 2016 edition of Accidents in North American Climbing. Author: Ron Funderburke.

Climbers have been belaying for as long as they’ve been using ropes. We use some type of belay in almost every roped climbing context—it is the essential skill that unites all disciplines. It’s interesting, therefore, to see how little agreement there is about the “best” belay techniques, how distracting our assertions about belaying tend to be, and how rigidly dogmatic we can be about a task that many understand so imperfectly.

This dogmatic approach persists even though using a rope to belay something valuable—whether a load of cargo on a ship or a climber on a cliff—has always been organized by three fundamental principles:

• There should be a brake hand on the rope at all times.

• Any time the brake hand slides along the rope, the rope should be in the brake position.

• The hands and limbs should be positioned according to their natural strength.

These are the principles that we should use to evaluate belaying, yet our discussion of “good” or “bad” belaying often revolves around a specific biomechanical sequence. It’s time to abandon this way of talking and thinking about belaying. It’s misleading, reductive, and provokes more arguments that it solves.

Meanwhile, a cursory perusal of any edition of Accidents reveals there are severe consequences for imprecise understanding of belaying. In recent years, 5 to 10 percent of all incidents reported have involved inadequate belays.

This edition of Know the Ropes will equip readers with language and principles that unify all belay contexts. Additionally, for those who are new to belaying, those who want to learn to belay in different contexts, or those who aren’t sure about their current technique, this article will provide some suggestions for how to do so in a fundamentally sound way.

THE ORIGINS OF BELAYING PRINCIPLES

The earliest belayers used the most primitive technique: The belayer held the rope tightly and did not let go under any circumstance. Belayers had to be very strong, and the rope had to be kept very tight. And the brake hand had to be on the rope at all times. Even the strongest belayers and the lightest climbers wouldn’t stand a chance without this fundamental principle. 

The addition of friction to the belay system allowed smaller belayers to secure bigger climbers. Wrapping the rope around features in mountain terrain or the belayer’s body provided enough friction to hold larger loads. 

Friction also introduced two new realities to belaying. First, friction could be increased and decreased, creating a “belay cycle.” Increased friction is valuable when holding a load; decreased friction is valuable when trying to move rope through the system.

The second new reality was that friction allowed the belayer to relax a little. In the more primitive form of belaying, without friction, the belayer’s hand-over-hand technique maintained a constant grip on the rope. By contrast, a belay system with friction allows the belayer to relax [their] grip at some points in the cycle, which, naturally, deprioritizes vigilance.

These changes led to the second fundamental principle of belaying: Since every belay cycle has a point of high friction, it makes sense to spend as much time in that position as possible. Therefore, whenever the brake hand slides along the rope, the rope should be in the brake position. If a climber falls while the brake hand is sliding on the rope, it obviously will be easier and quicker to arrest the fall if the rope is already in the brake position.

Since the addition of friction to the system, every major evolution in belaying has involved some sort of technology. First came the carabiner, which not only allowed belayers to augment their friction belays but also invited the use of hitches, tied to carabiners, as belay tools. The most effective of these was the Munter hitch. 

The Munter hitch offered a braking position that was the same as the pulling position, so the belay cycle was easy to teach and learn. It soon became the predominant belay technique in all disciplines. (Before the advent of reliable protection, dynamic belays, and nylon ropes, belaying was primarily the duty of the leader. A second might belay the leader, but the leader was not expected to fall, nor was it widely expected that a leader fall could be caught.) The Munter hitch, belaying a second from above, conforms naturally to the third fundamental principle of belaying: It positions the hands, limbs, and body according to their natural strength. It keeps the belay comfortable and strong throughout the belay cycle, and while taking rope in, catching falls, holding weight, and lowering.

THE MODERN ERA

An era ago, these fundamental principles were not really in dispute. They applied to body belays (hip belays, butt belays, shoulder belays, boot-axe belays, etc.), terrain belays (belays over horns, boulders, and ridgelines), and belays on carabiners (Munter hitch). However, by the Second World War, climbers began to use nylon ropes and other equipment that could handle the forces of leader falls. Moreover, climbing clubs, schools, and enthusiasts began to experiment with redirecting the climbing rope through a top anchor, so that belaying on the ground, for both the leader and follower, became much more common. Pushing the limits of difficulty also became more common— leading to more falling.

Belayers around the world also began to experiment with new belay tools that redirected the braking position 180 degrees—the most common early example was the Sticht plate, but the same principle applies to today’s tube-style devices. Instead of the brake strand of rope running in the same direction as the loaded strand (the climber’s strand), the belayer had to hold the brake strand in the opposite direction.

For many years, instructors and textbooks explained how to use these new manual belay devices (MBDs) by defaulting to the hand and body positions that had become entrenched from the use of the Munter hitch and the hip belay. The most common of these was the hand-up (supinated) brake-hand position on the rope. 

The stronger, more comfortable technique with MBDs is a hand-down (pronated) position with the brake hand, and newer texts and instructors often adopted this technique, in order to connect the new technology with the fundamental principles of belay. But the resulting cacophony—with belay instruction varying wildly—gave students and climbers the impression that belaying did not have any governing principles. 

We climbers have our sectarian instincts, and climbers today are as likely to argue the relative merits of various belay techniques as they are to argue about the merits of sport climbing and trad climbing, alpine style and expedition style. The goal of this article is to redirect all belayers’ attention to two indisputable truths: 

• Belaying happens in many, many different contexts. 

• Belaying in every context is most effective when it is based on the three fundamental principles, which long preceded any arguments we are currently having. 

THE CONTEXTS OF BELAYING

Even though we generally learn to belay in a fairly simple context (top-roping), belaying is much more diverse than what happens in an Intro to Climbing class. The most appropriate belay techniques can vary widely depending on the setting (gym, multi-pitch crag, alpine climb, etc.) and whether the climber is leading or following. Most generally, belaying happens in three different ways, using different techniques and tools for each: friction belays, counterweight belays, and direct belays. 

FRICTION BELAYS

In a friction belay, the rope runs directly between the belayer and climber, and there might not be any anchor. The potential holding power of the belay is relative to the amount of friction one can generate, the strength of the belayer’s grip, and the resilience of the object providing friction. 

Friction belays are most common in mountaineering (though there are other contexts where they provide efficient and prudent options). In the mountains, there usually are long stretches of terrain where a full anchor is not necessary and building and deconstructing anchors might dangerously delay the climbers. 

Most commonly, the belayer will select a feature of the terrain to belay or use [their] body to create friction. The belay stance must replace the security that an anchor might have provided, whether by bracing one’s feet, belaying over the top of a ridgeline, or another method. Any terrain features used to provide friction or a stance must be carefully inspected to ensure they are solid and won’t create a rockfall hazard. 

COUNTERWEIGHT BELAYS

Whether climbing single-pitch routes or belaying the leader on a multi-pitch climb, these are the most commonly used belay techniques. The climbing rope is redirected through a top anchor or a leader’s top piece of protection, and the belayer provides a counterweight, coupled with effective belay technique and tools, to hold or lower the climber or catch a fall. 

Even though there are plenty of exceptions, the vast majority of American climbing happens in a single-pitch setting, on a climb that is less than 30 meters tall. The belayers and climbers generally are comparably sized, and the belayer is comfortably situated on the ground. Belaying this way provides a more social atmosphere, allowing for banter, camaraderie, and coaching. That’s why climbing gyms, climbing programs, and most casual outings gravitate toward this belay context. 

However, the ease and comfort of single-pitch counterweight belays do not liberate the belayer from serious responsibilities. Thankfully, there are several different biomechanical sequences for belaying a top-rope that fall under the halo of the three fundamental principles. Each of the three techniques outlined below comes with a set of pros and cons that makes it the preferred methods of certain groups of climbers, instructors, and programs. 

PBUS

The top-roping belay technique commonly known as PBUS resonates with climbing instructors and mentors because it emphasizes the fundamental principles so distinctly. The hand transition is securely in the braking position, and it’s hard to imagine the belayer losing control if the climber were to fall while the hand was sliding. Plus, the ergonomics of the technique keep the wrist and grip pronated.

PBUS is most effective when a top-roper is moving slowly and hanging frequently. When the climber moves quickly and proficiently, a strict adherence to this technique often causes the belay setup to collapse, which could allow the belay carabiner to cross-load. It’s also harder to move slack quickly enough to keep up with a proficient climber. 

HAND OVER HAND

If the belayer alternates brake hands, [they are] able to move slack through the belay cycle more quickly than with PBUS. As long as the brake hands are alternating in the braking position, this technique abides by the fundamental principles of belay, and it is a preferred technique for experienced belayers and for top-ropers who move quickly. 

Many instructors and mentors dislike this technique because it allows the belayer to keep “a” brake hand on at all times, instead of keeping “the” brake hand on at all times. As a result, this technique is usually relegated to more experienced teams.

SHUFFLE

The shuffle technique is most applicable when using an assisted-braking device (ABD) to belay, but it can be used with manual devices by a very experienced belayer (read more about assisted-braking devices). It requires the belayer to have a refined sense of how to grip the rope with varying degrees of intensity, all without relinquishing the readiness to brake. A loosely gripped brake hand can shuffle along the brake strand, up or down, without letting go. A tightly gripped brake hand can be used to catch falls.

Many belayers find this technique unsettling because they are attached to the idea that a relentlessly strong grip on the brake strand is symbolic of the belayer’s commitment. With a proficient belayer, however, the shuffle technique is not only fundamentally sound, it also can be a smooth and reliable way to belay, especially with an ABD. 

TOP-ROPE BELAYING IN ACTION

BELAYING A LEADER

Lead belaying involves the same fundamental counterweight arrangements as top-rope belays, but the dynamics involved in a lead fall greatly augment the forces a belayer must contend with. The loads can be severe and startling. Moreover, there is much more to effective lead belaying than simply paying out slack and catching occasional falls. The interplay of slack and tension requires quick and seamless adaptation, practiced and undistracted fine motor skills, and a situational awareness that is hard to achieve if one has never done any leading oneself. Lead belayers must master the following skills:

• Setup and preparation

• Correct use of the chosen belay device

• Compensating for unnecessary slack

• Catching falls

Unfortunately, lead belayers may only learn a portion of these skills before they are asked to perform all of them on a belay. It’s easy to imagine how a rudimentary skill set can result in frustration, accidents, or even fatalities. 

SETUP AND PREPARATION

A lead belayer needs to determine the likely fall line for a climber who has clipped the first piece of protection. Standing directly beneath the first piece and then taking one step out of the fall line (roughly 10 degrees) will usually keep a falling leader from landing directly on the belayer’s head, while still keeping the belayer in position to give an effective belay. 

Once the lead belayer decides where [they want] to stand, the rope should be stacked neatly on the brake-hand side, right next to the belayer’s stance. A knot in the belayer’s end of the rope (or tying in) closes the system. 

USING THE BELAY DEVICE

Lead belayers will have to learn some fine motor skills to offer an effective lead belay, especially with an ABD. It takes practice. 

Most of the time, the leader keeps [their] brake hand wrapped entirely around the rope, as with any other belay. The lead belayer pays out arm lengths of slack as the leader moves, and then slides the brake hand down the rope with the rope in the brake position. The mechanics are mostly identical, whether the belayer is using an MBD (such as an ATC or other tube-style device) or an ABD. 

But when the leader moves quickly or pulls a lot of slack to clip protection, the belayer will have to feed slack fast, without releasing the brake hand. This is easily learned with an MBD, using a form of the shuffle technique. But with ABD devices such as the Grigri, a specific technique for each device must be learned and practiced. Follow the manufacturer’s instructions and warnings. (Most have produced instructional online videos explaining the appropriate technique.) No matter which device you use, keep the fundamental principles of belaying in mind. Most importantly, your brake hand must stay on the rope as you feed slack. 

COMPENSATING

Lead belaying also involves a subtle exchange of giving and taking rope called compensating. When a leader makes a long clip, there is a moment where the rope is actually clipped above the leader’s head, and [they are] effectively on a short top-rope. As a result the belayer needs to make a seamless transition between giving slack, taking in slack, and giving slack again. The most extreme version of compensating happens when the leader downclimbs from a clip to a rest and then reascends to the high point.

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CATCHING FALLS

The most important part of catching a fall is stopping a leader from hitting the ground or a ledge—or abruptly slamming into the wall. On overhanging climbs, a leader is less likely to impact objects, so longer falls are acceptable. But on vertical or low-angled climbs, the same length of fall could easily cause the leader to impact features along the fall line. 

The lead belayer must be constantly prepared to mitigate the fall consequence as much as [they] can, and a key part of this is maintaining the appropriate amount of slack and movement in the system. While belaying a leader on an overhang, the belayer might feel free to let the momentum of the counterweight lift [them] off the ground. This is the coveted “soft catch” that so many leaders seem to think is essential. 

But when a fall is more consequential—when it might result in ledge impact or a ground fall—an astute belayer may “fight” the fall, sometimes even taking in slack and bracing to increase the counterweight effect. 

It takes time and effort to learn this distinction, because every climb is a little different. One of the most important ways to learn lead belaying is to lead climb. An experienced leader will better understand the issues facing other lead climbers and will know what it feels like to have a belayer do [their] job perfectly.

LEAD BELAYING IN ACTION

DIRECT BELAYS

Direct belays connect the belay system directly to an anchor. As a result, the anchor must be fundamentally sound. That is to say, it has redundant construction, distributes loads intelligently to all the components, limits potential shock-loading if a single component were to fail, and is adequately strong. The anchor must easily sustain all the potential loads applied to it, plus a healthy margin of error. Its integrity should not be in question. Read more about anchors here or here.

Direct belays are the most prudent way to belay a second from the top of a rock or ice pitch where falls are likely and consequential. (That would include all fifth-class rock terrain and almost every ice climb at any grade.) They do not trap the belayer in a counterweight arrangement, allowing the belayer to manage the rope and multi-task. Because the belayer is attached to the anchor separately, the belayer can affect assistance techniques to help a climber move up if needed. Direct belays also put less force on an anchor than counterweight belays do (which shouldn’t matter, really, because the anchor should be bombproof). Lastly, they are particularly advantageous when belaying more than one person simultaneously. 

Whether the belayer is using a Munter hitch, an MBD, or an ABD in a direct belay, the fundamentals apply: The brake hand is always on the rope, hand transitions occur in the braking position, and the limbs are positioned in ways that are comfortable and sustainable. Direct belays should confer all of the climber’s weight to the anchor, so it is easy to imagine a few different hand positions that take advantage of the belayer’s natural strength.Lowering is a completely different story with direct belays. As articles in Accidents will attest, lowering will usually require the belayer to disable or reduce a device’s autoblocking or braking function. As a result, the belayer should redirect the rope through the anchor and use a friction hitch or backup belay whenever [they are] lowering from a direct belay. 

COMMON MISTAKES

FINAL THOUGHTS

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As we can see, there are so many variables to belaying that it can be counterproductive to say there is only one “right” technique. The appropriate belay method for each pitch depends on the terrain, the style and difficulty of climbing, the relative experience and weight of the climber and belayer, and the tools available. The “right” technique is the one that’s appropriate for each context, as long as it adheres to the fundamental principles of keeping your brake hand on the rope, sliding your hand only when the rope is in the braking position, and positioning your hands and body according to their natural strength.

Keep exploring belaying by watching our Know the Ropes videos here or checking out this slideshow. If you teach belaying or just want to take a deep dive, see the AAC’s own Gold Standard curriculum.

Find more information on a variety of topics, including “Climber Communication,” by checking out our complete Know the Ropes collection.

Cleaning an Anchor in Single Pitch Climbing

Accident data in the United States clearly indicates that the routine task of anchor cleaning is clearly too routine for some of us, and not routine enough for others. The inescapable reality is that experienced and and inexperienced climbers, alike, are susceptible to mishap during this seemingly mundane process.

Every accident on record has a slew of contributing factors, to be sure, and it would be impossible to create best practices that could account for all possible contingencies. However, one common thread indicated by accident reporting and a review of instructional literature is that anchor-cleaning sequences, up to this point, have not necessarily been dictated by any unifying principles or concepts.

This article will attempt to reset the bar on that deficit, and align the reader with a set of value-based decision making tools that inform our recommendations for a generalizable best practice.  This article will start with the following assumption: the climbing team consists of a lead climber that has been lowered to the ground, through a redirected top-anchor, the anchor material needs to be retrieved, and the climbing team is operating in a single pitch context with a permanent fixed anchor. 

This context is common on any single pitch outing. The climber is toproping, when she arrives at the top of the pitch she will retrieve the anchoring tools.  

Often, the climber/cleaner also removes equipment from the climb, equipment that the initial leader left behind.

Certain values should govern the cleaning procedure every time it occurs, and each of these values can be used to analyze the effectiveness of any cleaning sequence.

Those values are as follows:

• Changing safety systems, like going on and off belay or switching from being belayed to rappelling, opens up opportunities for error. It also takes time, requires communication and double checks. It is inherently more efficient and safer to use one safety system at all times.

• It is valuable for the cleaner to be connected to the climbing rope, in some way, at all times. That way the rope cannot be dropped.

• It is valuable to minimize the amount of equipment needed to clean an anchor. If minimal equipment is needed, equipment cannot be forgotten.

Most Generalizable Cleaning Sequence: Lowering off the Rings

The cleaning sequence that best applies the values listed above requires the cleaner to lower off an anchor's rappel rings or quick-links.  There are a few reasons this sequence is not more widely adopted.  First, the lowering sequence is misapplied and/or misunderstood.  Second, there is misplaced sense of stewardship that seeks to preserve anchor hardware. 

Many climbers erroneously believe that changing safety systems in unavoidable because they do not necessarily understand that a bight of rope can be pushed through rappel rings.  They might also misunderstand the different ways climbers can connect to an anchor.  Some connections between a climber and an anchor are critical, and they require strength and security.  Like a PAS, a personal tether, or anchoring with the climbing rope and a clove hitch.  These kinds of connections are both strong and secure. Combined with a locking carabiner, they are capable of holding over ten times the climbers body weight in some cases.

Second, many climbers misunderstand the actual impacts lowering off the rings make on communal fixed hardware. Lowering off rings, undoubtedly, wears rings out faster than rappelling.  But, it is important to remember that the rings are engineered for the purpose of lowering. They are designed to sustain the wear and tear of lowering, and then be replaced. Even if lowering resulted in drastic ring erosion, it is worth considering how a more efficient and safer lowering sequence may be worth it.  As accident data surrounding rappelling accumulates, it is worth considering that our friends and family members are more valuable than stainless steel rings, and the only real cost of keeping them safer is replacing rings more frequently.

Having asserted those two common misunderstandings, let’s look at a cleaning sequence that maintains one unremitting safety system (the belay), requires minimal equipment, and never detaches the climbing rope from the cleaner.

Step One: Fifi. Upon arriving at the anchor, the leader can Fifi in to any point in the anchor, but the master point is usually well positioned for this task. A Fifi is a common tool among aid climbers and the concept can be valuable in a cleaning sequence. The idea is to continue to rely on the belay for ultimate security.  Why relinquish it? But, the cleaner will want to connect to the anchor somehow so that the cleaning sequence can proceed more efficiently. So, taking a single quickdraw, any of the quickdraws cleaned off the climb for example, and connecting the belay loop to the master point, will allow the cleaner to work without maintaining a stance or a grip on the rock.  

Any quickdraw cleaned off the pitch can serve as a "Fifi".

Connecting to the masterpoint with a "fifi" is not anchoring. It's just a place to sit for a minute. No need to say anything to suggest that the belayer should not continue to keep the climber safe.

Step Two: Thread a Bight through the rap ring(s). The cleaner will then call for slack, enough slack to run a bight of rope through the rap ring(s).  Once the bight has been passed through the ring, a Figure 8 on a Bight should be tied.  

Most rap rings and quicklinks are big enough to pass a bight of rope through. The bight only needs to be big enough to tie a Figure-8-On-A-Bight. Note the hangers are thick rounded steel typically found at belay stations; do not pass rope through the thinner, sharper edged hangers used on route.

Try to imagine the precision in this moment. The bight is now blocked against the rings. If anything were to go wrong, the climber is secured in a way, by that blocked knot. The belayer did not hear anything confusing or distracting like “Off Belay” or “In Direct” or any other command that could suggest that relinquishing the belay is the next step.

Step Three: Clip the Figure on a Bight to the belay loop with a locking carabiner or two non-locking carabiners (opposite and opposed). Once that bight knot is connected to the climber’s belay loop, the climber may call to the belayer for tension, or take. The belay will do so, and the climber’s body weight will now be counterweighted through the rings by the belayer.

In this moment, the climber is connected to the original tie-in, the bight-knot and locking carabiner, and the fifi. It's a good time to double check the system.

Try to imagine the precision of this moment. Even if the belayer somehow misunderstood his/her role in the cleaning sequence, the call to take gives the climber a chance to double check the entire system before initiating any other critical steps. The climber is essentially anchored at this point by the knot block, the bight clipped to the belay loop, and the original tie-in, which still has not been touched.

Step Four: Untie the original tie-in, clean the anchor, and lower. After double checking all the critical links in the system (the belayer, the bight knot, the locking carabiners, and the rope running through the rap rings) the climber can untie his/her original figure 8 follow through. That long tail can be pulled through the rings and allowed to dangle harmlessly behind the cleaner. The anchoring tools can all be removed from the bolts and stowed. The climber can announce that he/she is ready to lower, and allow the belayer to lower to the ground.

When lowering, the tail from the original tie-in will dangle behind the bight knot.

The cleaner never relinquished the belay.  The cleaner was never untied from the rope, and therefore did not create an opportunity to drop it.  The cleaner only communicated three unambiguous commands to the belayer: “Slack,” “Take, ” and “Ready to Lower.” The cleaner did not need PAS or daisy chain or ATC or friction hitch or a half dozen carabiners to complete this sequence.  

Most anchor cleaning should happen in this way; it is the generalizable case.

Know the Ropes: Cleaning an Anchor

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The Prescription — June 2023

This report will soon be published in ANAC, 2023. It is a dramatic story of a climber who narrowly avoided death. It is also a cautionary tale of a hazard that can strike even well-seasoned experts.

Rappel Anchor Failure

Wind River Range, Cirque of the Towers, Wolf's Head

The Cirque of the Towers is a popular alpine rock destination. It is home to two of the hallowed Fifty Classic Climbs of North America. One of those routes climbs the big rock tower on the right—Pingora. The other, the East Ridge of Wolfs Head, climbs the sunlit ridge of the formation to the left. 

Photo by Kylir Horton—Wikimedia Commons

On July 6, 2022, Alex Satonik (35) and Peter Haley (29) climbed the classic East Ridge of Wolf's Head (10 pitches, 5.6). The climb was uneventful. Satonik wrote to the ANAC that, “We arrived at the summit around 11 a.m. We had a brief rest and then started the standard descent route.

“The first two rappels were easy to find, and the cordage looked good on both. After some scrambling across the west face we found the next two sets of rappel anchors, again deeming the cordage to be in reasonable condition. After more sideways scrambling we arrived at the fifth rappel. I inspected the visible sections of the cordage on the anchor, two lengths of 5mm to 6mm cordalette. I yanked hard on the anchor. The cord held the pull and handled well. It did not show indications of severe sun damage. However, it was wedged into a crack and I could not see the back side of the material.

“I threaded the rope. After checking my ATC, I loaded the rope and sat back. Almost immediately, I was accelerating downward at 9.8m/s. Roughly halfway down, my feet impacted a small ledge, causing me to somersault. I landed on a ledge at the bottom of the rappel, mostly on my back and left side. I had fallen about 50 feet. 

“I immediately knew I was badly injured. I heard my partner calling out. I had an older Personal Locator Beacon (PLB) that didn't have two-way communication capability. My partner activated the beacon. He also called 911 via normal cell phone. SAR responded that their helicopter was already out on a rescue, but would refuel and be at our location in an hour. During the wait, I untangled myself from the rope and did a self-assessment. I had broken both legs, with an open fracture on the right. I had some painful spots on my back, and my right arm was weak. I had also broken my helmet into three pieces and had multiple facial lacerations.

“I did my best to communicate my injuries to my partner, who relayed them to the 911 dispatcher. Roughly an hour after calling in, we heard the helicopter. They located us quickly and landed down by a lake to rig a longline for a pick off. At this time a second party showed up at the failed rap station, where my partner was. The helicopter came and a rescuer dropped onto my ledge. The rescuer attempted to splint my legs with some foam supports and got a three-point seat harness under me. We clipped into the long line, and the helicopter lifted us off the mountain.  

“It was a short flight down to the flat landing area near the lake where the SAR team transferred me into a soft litter and loaded me in the back of the helicopter. Five minutes later, I was at the Pinedale clinic. A day and a half later I woke up in a hospital in Idaho Falls. All told, I had broken my tibia and fibula in both legs, my right arm, right thumb, two vertebrae, the orbital bone over my left eye, and the bridge of my nose. I ended up staying in the hospital just short of a month. The doctors were confident that I would be able to walk on my own by winter, although my ankle strength and mobility will be permanently affected.”

ANALYSIS

Satonik suffered simple bad luck when the rappel anchor failed. There are many rappel stations scattered in various locations on the Wolf’s Head descent. These and other soft rappel stations in the high country suffer from UV degradation and in this case, abrasion and cutting due to the expansion and contraction of anchor blocks. Climber Thomas Gilmore used the same descent two months later. He wrote ANAC, “The team that had the anchor failure, may or may not have been on the ‘standard’ anchor. But, as you can see from the image below, one of the ‘standard’ anchors, the regular stations are garbage too.” 

These old slings comprise either the third or fourth rappel anchor on Wolf’s Head. In a “pinch point,” anchor such as this (similar to Satonik’s failed anchor), the area of contact between large rocks provides security for a thread or sling. Over time, these anchors can become hazardous. Gilmore wrote ANAC, 'This was taken after that accident. Unfortunately, I forgot to grab a picture of the anchor that blew. The rappel route really needs some love.’"

Photo by Thomas Gilmore.

Satonik wrote the ANAC that, “I remember there were double aluminum rings on two pieces of 5mm or 6mm cord, one green and one orange. My suspicion is that on the backside of the block, the cord must have been damaged, likely from being run over an edge. But since the loop was wedged firmly into a crack, I couldn't slide it around to investigate the hidden material. But it is also on me that I choose to use that anchor as is. Based on the damage to my helmet and other facial trauma, I would have died had the helmet not been on my head.”

*Editor’s Note: It is prudent to bring and use extra cordelette to back up anchors. Bring a knife to cut and clean old weathered webbing. In 2022, there were three reported rappel accidents caused by aging slings/cords, causing three deaths. Satonik was fortunate to avoid being the fourth fatality. He wrote to ANAC that, “While falling, I definitely bounced off at least two ledges. That took out some of the kinetic energy out of the impact, compared to 50 feet of uninterrupted acceleration.”

In the image above and in Satonik’s description, aluminum rappel rings are seen or mentioned. These rings vary in manufacture and can range from very strong (25 Kn) to very weak (1.5 Kn). Beware rappel rings with visible wear, especially in the old rolled variety. These are recognized by a seam, running along the entire circumference of the ring. Best practice is to use a locking carabiner or a quicklink in place of the ring. At the minimum, back up the ring with a carabiner clipped through all the available slings. Please do not pilfer fixed carabiners. (Source: Alex Satonik.)

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How to Dream up the Next Cutting-Edge Thing

PC: Jeff & Priti Wright

By: Sierra McGivney

First ascents and new lines on faraway mountains fill the American Alpine Journal every year. American Alpine Club members and climbers in the community browse the AAJ annually, reading stories about cutting-edge ascents. Some might even wonder to themselves, how do you dream up the next cutting-edge thing?

Beyond producing the AAJ, the American Alpine Club has a legacy of encouraging and inspiring climbers to push their limits and dream big through our grants. In 2022, Jeff and Priti Wright won our Cutting Edge Grant, sponsored by Black Diamond, to attempt K7 Central. This year, Lindsey Hamm won the Cutting Edge Grant and also our McNiell-Nott Grant, sponsored by Mountain Hardwear. They are each cutting-edge alpinists who are in pursuit of world-class climbing and mountaineering objectives. And they have answers to the questions you've been wondering about. 

Step One: Light the Fire

Priti and Jeff Wright are a wife and husband duo based in Seattle who have been featured in the AAJ three times and on The Cutting Edge podcast. Their blog Alpine Vagabonds details their first ascents, alpine endeavors, and how-tos. Some of their most notable accomplishments are the first ascent of K6 Central (7,155m), the third ascent of K6 West (7,140m), all four peaks of Patagonia's Torre Range, and "The Six Classic North Faces of the Alps." But how did two-weekend warriors become cutting-edge alpinists? 

Jeff and Priti on K6. PC: Jeff & Priti Wright

In 2017, The Mountaineers, a nonprofit climbing club based in the Pacific Northwest, held a talk featuring Graham Zimmerman, professional alpinist and AAC president, at their local gear shop in Seattle. It inspired the Wrights, so they approached him after the talk. Over drinks with Zimmerman, they talked about planning trips and their goals. They were excited about doing something new. The Greater Ranges in the Himalayas had caught their attention. 

They asked Zimmerman about K6 Central, which he had attempted. They were interested in climbing it themselves. Zimmerman said something along the lines of, "Go send that sh*t." The two were stoked that Zimmerman had been so encouraging and kind.

"In the climbing community, almost everyone you reach out to is friendly and nice because they were in your position at one point," said Priti. 

So for their first trip, they rode Zimmerman's coattails. According to Jeff, this is fairly common in the climbing community—failed expeditions can be a great opportunity for someone looking to make a first ascent. But you don't want to scoop someone's line, so contact the person first and see if they will make a second attempt at it. If they aren't planning to, they might even help you out and give you some extra beta. 

Step Two: Plan An Expensive Glorified Camping Trip

On this first trip to Pakistan to climb K6 Central, Priti and Jeff learned a lot. Big expeditions are like glorified camping trips with lots of extra stuff, according to the Wrights. 

PC: Jeff & Priti Wright

Logistics to be considered when planning a big expedition are: 

• Visas 

• Permits 

• Tour operators

• Satellite devices

• Weather

• Power sources 

• Budget

• Food 

• Shower

• Washing clothes

They use spreadsheets and checklists to stay organized. Once you've figured out logistics, you can focus more on the climbing or technical aspect of your trip. The two got a lot of advice from Steven Swenson and Colin Haley on what food to bring and what airlines have the best baggage deals. Knowing someone who has gone on an expedition before can be a huge asset. 

If you're wondering how to budget and get your trip funded, look into mountaineering grants. The AAC has quite a few for all different types of trips. Mountaineering or skiing/splitboarding based? We got you. Research or breaking barriers based? We got you. Have a climbing dream of any kind? You guessed it—we have a grant for you.

Step Three: Leave No Trace? Leave the Right Trace.

This is Lindsey Hamm’s second trip to the Churakusa Valley. This year, she's backed by the Cutting Edge Grant and the McNeill-Nott Grant. 

"I'm thankful and grateful to have another opportunity," said Hamm.

Last year she, Dakota Walz, and Lane Mathis established a first ascent on a formation between Spanster Brakk and Naisa Brakk (which they named Ishaqu Brakk): Pull Down the Sky (15 pitches, 5.11 R). 

Hamm is always excited about seeing the porters, cooks, and guides she's worked with again and continuing to build a relationship with the community in the valley. There is beauty in being around people who have a different life than hers. She becomes a student again. 

This year, Hamm's group is bringing over school supplies and paying teachers their salaries for the year. For Hamm, climbing is about community, not just the climbing community.

Jeff and Priti have the same attitude. They advocate for climbing responsibly and contributing to the community where they are climbing. Alongside Steve Swenson, they work with Iraq Fund, an organization that helps girls go to school. 

"It's not just about 'how you can help the climbing community' but the greater community as well," said Priti.

Step Four: Listen Closely for Unclimbed Peaks

K7 Expedition. PC: Jeff & Priti Wright

For the Wright's 2022 K7 Central trip, expectations were low. The idea was original and supported by the Cutting-Edge Grant. The inspiration for this trip was found at another mountaineer's talk. This time it was Steven Swenson who presented. He mentioned that K7 Central was unclimbed. They noted this and added it to their list of climbing ideas. There was a limited amount of information out there once they started looking into it. But that didn't deter them in the slightest. 

"It's so difficult to try to come up with your own original idea in the Greater Ranges," said Jeff. 

Half of the work is finding an objective that has yet to be done. Many of the Greater Ranges' mountains have little information on them, so it takes a decent amount of work just to look up a mountain and see what's been done. 

The Wrights have spent hundreds of hours looking through documents in the AAC Library and the AAJ, searching for information on cutting-edge ascents. The AAC library uniquely holds so much history and resources for planning expeditions.  

With a lack of information, the expedition became exploratory. They were unsuccessful in 2022 but are going to go back this summer to try K7 Central again. 

Step Five: Devour Audio and Video Inspiration

"Getting inspired by listening to podcasts like The Cutting Edge and following people on Instagram, reading things that people have written, makes it seem a little more possible, and it gets those gears turning of, well, what might I be able to do?" said Priti. 

Jeff and Priti's go-to podcasts to feed the stoke:

• The Cutting Edge podcast

• The Run-Out

• Climbing Gold

• The Enormocast

• Alpinist

• The Firn Line

• Uphill Athlete

• Evoke Endurance

• Training for Climbing

Books:

• The American Alpine Journal

• Seriously, the AAJ contains trip reports for areas relevant to your expedition—Lindsay, Priti, and Jeff each swear by it.

• Anything relevant in the AAC Library

• Training for the New Alpinism: A Manual for the Climber as Athlete

• Training for the Uphill Athlete

Step Six: You've Figured Out Where You Want to Go—Time to Train

For the last six years, Jeff and Priti have been in the Uphill Athlete Program, a training program with daily workouts made for different uphill pursuits. You might have seen or read the book Training for the Uphill Athlete; essentially, this is an extension of the book. They have been focusing on the endurance aspect of training and bringing it into the mountains. The biggest thing for them when putting together a plan is to focus on their goal. 

"You have to break it down to, what are you training for? What are the exact specs of the thing you want to do?" said Priti. 

PC: Jeff & Priti Wright

If your goal involves a lot of steep inclines, get your cardio high. At altitude, that's what you'll start losing first. If your goal involves a lot of technical climbing, you'll want to focus on strength training. At a certain point, you’ll have enough technical skills to accomplish your objective, and you can focus more on your muscular endurance and aerobic capacity. 

The Wrights have big long objectives, so they focus on endurance-type training. Training is a huge part of alpinism or any big objective. It can help mitigate some risks. When you're at altitude and stressed out, having a reserve of energy can be huge.

"This weekend, all of our friends are going out rock climbing, and I'll be carrying a heavy pack up a steep muddy trail; just very monotonous and antisocial," said Jeff. "But it's nice to have a big objective that you're working towards."

Priti keeps a photo of her climbing goals or objectives on the background of her phone and on her credit card. It's a reminder of what she's working towards and saving up for. 

Step Seven: Build Partnerships and Positivity 

The Wrights have the benefit of being married to their climbing partner. They live together so they can feed off of each other's excitement. They know each other extremely well and know their communication style. Their situation is unique. The majority of partnerships don't have this dynamic—but one piece of advice that can be applied to every partnership? Don't share negative thoughts. 

PC: Jeff & Priti Wright

"You can always put a positive spin on something," said Priti.

If you're not stoked about something, ask yourself, is this really worth sharing? Expeditions can be miserable but well worth it. Keeping both your energy and the energy of others high can be a huge factor in completing your goals. 

There is also a balance between sharing safety or logistical concerns and being negative. If you are concerned for your or your group's safety, definitely speak up. Take your time with safety skills when training, too. They are necessary out in the mountains. To keep up their skills, Jeff and Pritit teach classes on climbing safety skills through BOEALPS. What's that old saying? The best way to learn is to teach. 

If you enjoy learning, try and find a local group or guiding company that teaches mountaineer or alpine skills. At one point, Jeff and Priti were in a program run by Steve Swenson designed to instruct and mentor up-and-coming alpinists. Listening to Swenson's stories inspired the two. Knowing someone who had climbed in the alpine a lot made it feel more possible. 

Step Eight: No Really, Partnership is Crucial

"I'm in four different relationships, and that is with all of my climbing partners," said Hamm. 

She likens these relationships to romantic partners. She speaks with each of them on a daily basis to build trust and learn how each communicates. Expedition partners add another layer of friction, good and bad. They need to be able to adapt, work and think as a group. After the trip, Hamm's goal is to return together as a healthy family. 

"I'm hype-girl Hamm," said Hamm. 

She's also building a relationship with the mountains, getting to know the valley and Pakistan. She's trying to understand what friction exists there, whether that is the political climate or the actual climate. 

Step Nine: Seek the Friction

In climbing, friction is all around us. It's created by partners, belay devices, knots, and the climbing rubber on our shoes. 

"I think the fact that I have created a little bit more friction for myself …[allows me to seek] a different level of climbing that I've never experienced," said Hamm. "I have taken a lot of time to learn on a smaller scale to be able to go bigger."

Photo provided by Lindsey Hamm.

For Hamm, this isn't her first pitch. This is a culmination of ten years of guiding, learning, and understanding the disciplines: big wall climbing, skiing, ice climbing, mixed climbing, trad climbing, and glacial travel. Big expeditions take her out of her comfort zone and create a new layer of friction: the unknown. 

"I really like the unknown," said Hamm with a smile.

She's on her way to the Black Canyon of the Gunnison to train for her upcoming trip. Her focus for this trip will be to work on her breathing, moving slowly and more meticulously. The Black Canyon is a lot like Pakistan—very adventurous, and strengthens the fingers. 

"You can feel how the pioneers did it," said Hamm.

She'll head to Washington after The Black for altitude training, a different type of friction. Donning a heavy pack, she'll spend days going up and then down, acclimatizing to higher altitudes. The friction here is not seen but felt in the lack of air and the final push of training.

The environment, the people, and the climbing excite her. She looks over old photos and her grant proposal to stay motivated, but in general, she is a highly motivated, goal-oriented person, in part because of her ADHD. This trip is her lead, her idea.  

"I'm living my dream," said Hamm. 

Livin’ the Dream

PC: Jeff & Priti Wright

For Priti, Jeff, Lindsey, and many others, these expeditions are their dreams. They all started out learning and honing their skills: the tuned eye it takes to notice a first ascent opportunity; or leveraging and learning from the friction as they pushed harder and harder. They explored what motivated them and what made them excited. 

Seek out what excites you the most. Go to talks, read books, and listen to podcasts that inspire you. Be comfortable being uncomfortable. Soon those stunning lines on faraway mountains won't seem so far away anymore. 

CONNECT: An Ode to Speed, with Alex Honnold and Buzz Burrell

Have you ever wondered: what’s at the root of Alex Honnold’s need for speed? In this episode of the podcast, we sat down with the ever-fascinating Alex Honnold, and put him in conversation with one of ulta running’s forefathers and one of the inventors of the FKT concept, or “fastest known time,” the one and only Buzz Burrell. In this episode, we took inspiration from Alex, who blends sports like running and rock climbing to create massive link-ups like the HURT and the CUDL, to investigate the philosophies behind climbing speed records, ultras, and mountain traverses and link-ups. Why are we so obsessed with speed in the mountains? How do speed records and first ascents play off each other? And what can putting ultra runners and speed record holders together in conversation reveal about these sports we love? The iconic Alex Honnold and Buzz Burrell weigh in on all this and more.

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The Line — May 2023

The Line is the monthly newsletter of the American Alpine Journal.

Bivouac on the southwest face of Ingolfsfjeld during the ’75 expedition. Photo by Jim Davenport.

GREENLAND’S GIANT MYSTERY WALL

The huge southwest face of Ingolfsfjeld, with 63 pitches of climbing, after a snowstorm. Photo by Steve Chadwick.

In the early to mid-1970s, one of the great challenges of arctic climbing was the southwest face of Ingolfsfjeld, an enormous wall 120 kilometers northeast of Tasiilaq on Greenland’s east coast. Visible from the sea, the peak was first climbed by its northeast ridge in 1971, by a Croatian duo, but the biggest face—rising at least 1,200 meters—remained unclimbed despite several attempts.

In 1975, a six-person British expedition finally succeeded, with three of the climbers making the final push to the summit. The resulting route had around 2,000 meters of climbing and was graded ED+ UIAA VI+ (5.10) A3, an extremely difficult wilderness wall for the era. Yet the climb has been largely forgotten, and until this year, no account had been published in the AAJ. 

Expedition member Steve Chadwick has described this remarkable expedition at length in a previously unpublished article, now available at the AAJ website, along with photos, a topo, and a pitch by pitch summary of the 63-pitch climb, which likely has never been repeated. (The last known attempt on any route up the mountain was in 1986!) An overview of the 1975 climb, written by senior editor Lindsay Griffin, will appear in AAJ 2023, which will be mailed in late summer.

Introduction to Keith Myhill’s pitch-by-pitch description of the route, which totaled 6,640 feet of climbing. A link to the full description is in Steve Chadwick’s article at our website.

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MINI-EPIC(S)

Mark Allen starts the team’s ascent of Chimaphila (470m, IV AI4) on Black Spire in the North Cascades. Photo by Jesse Charles.

Winter climbing is hard on climbers—and on their approach vehicles. Last winter, Mark Allen, Jesse Charles, and Seth Keena snowmobiled about 25 miles along closed Highway 20 in the North Cascades to make the first ascent of the east face of Black Spire by a varied ice line. Late in the day, they skied back to the unplowed road and mounted their sleds for the ride back to the car. Soon, the troubles began.

Keena opens his report for the upcoming AAJ 2023 with a description of his body slamming into the handlebars of his 1999 Yamaha Phazer. “I had acquired my snow machine for a bargain price, with the caveat that it had an ‘intermittent electrical issue, but not that big of a deal.’” he wrote. “Now, while cruising at 55 mph, the engine and lights had cut off, bringing sudden darkness and deceleration.”

Keena restarted the sled and followed his partners toward the plowed road. “Eventually we all made it back to Mark’s truck at the end of the plowed highway,” he wrote. “But, once again, we quietly faced the power of winter when we discovered the truck’s battery was dead.”

At least their phones still worked. A pleading call summoned help. Said Keena: “A friend is someone who, at 11:30 p.m., leaves their warm bed and drives to the end of the highway to jump-start your dead battery: Thank you, Patrick Murphy, you are a true friend.”

Without apparent irony, they called the new route Chimaphila (“winter lover”). Read Keena’s full AAJ report here.

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DENALI’S EAST BUTTRESS:
A 60-YEAR RETROSPECTIVE

Some years ago, Peter Lev, one member of the team that made the first ascent of Denali’s east buttress, published a photo-filled retrospective of the expedition. Lev summited on May 25, 1963, along with Rod Newcomb and Al Read. The other teammates were Warren Bleser, Jed Williamson, and Fred Wright. Here, we bring Lev’s images to light with a gallery of the marvelous photos from his piece. (Click on the images for captions.) You can download the complete retrospective in PDF form by following a link at the end of Read’s feature article in the 1964 AAJ.

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The Line is the newsletter of the American Alpine Journal (AAJ), emailed to more than 80,000 climbers each month. Find the archive of past editions here. Interested in supporting this online publication? Contact Billy Dixon for opportunities. Suggestions? Email us: [email protected].

10th Mountain Division to Memorialize AAC Member John McCown II

John McCown rappelling for a August 1942 photo shoot for Life Magazine. This image appeared in the Nov. 9, 1942 issue. Photos courtesy Private Collection of McCown Family.

On June 21st, 2023, the history of the US Army’s 10th Mountain Division and the legacy of the American Alpine Club will collide when the Division renames its Light Fighter School in honor of AAC member First Lieutenant John Andrew McCown II. 

The memorialization will recognize McCown’s service to his country in WWII. Not only did McCown instruct 10th Mountain Division troops in mountaineering and climbing tactics. He played a pivotal role in the unit’s signature action: a nighttime assault of Italy’s Riva Ridge that helped break Hitler’s Gothic Line and end the war in Europe.  

In honor of his impact, the 10th Mountain Division’s Light Fighter School will now be known as the 1LT John Andrew McCown II Light Fighter School building. 

***

Climber, former American Alpine Journal editor, and Alpinist co-founder Christian Beckwith was writing a history of Teton mountaineering when he discovered that Teton climbers of the 1930s played an integral role in the development of the 10th Mountain Division. As he continued his research in the AAC Library and Denver Public Library archives, he found that the unit known widely as “America’s ski troops” owe much of their inception and development to American climbers in general and the AAC in particular.

As he dug deeper, Beckwith discovered an incontrovertible link between the modern era of recreation in America—particularly the modern era of climbing—and the skills, equipment, and tactics that some of the best and the brightest mountaineers brought to the 10th Mountain Division. He also uncovered a deep connection between the AAC and the 10th Mountain Division—especially how the AAC helped develop the gear, tactics, and clothing the 10th Mountain Division would use in action—and that, as Army surplus after the war, would help fuel the birth of the outdoor recreation industry.

John Andrew McCown II in the Tetons in 1939. Photos courtesy Private Collection of McCown Family.

Recently, Beckwith began a book and podcast called Ninety-Pound Rucksack that tells the true story of John McCown, the 10th Mountain Division and the dawn of outdoor recreation in America, all from the perspective of climbers. He also began serving as an advisor to the current 10th Mountain Division, helping them reconnect with their historic mission. 

Following a keynote presentation on the Division’s base in February, he proposed recognizing the service of John McCown with a memorialization. Next month, the 10th Mountain Division will proceed by renaming its Light Fighter School in McCown’s honor.

At the same time, the Division will recognize Beckwith’s contributions by inducting him into its Mountain Warrior Legends Hall of Fame.

Below, you can read a bit about McCown’s story and the impact he had on the 10th’s actions in Italy. 

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Christian Beckwith summarizes McCown’s story as follows:

“A Wharton School graduate who dropped out of the University of Virginia School of Law after Pearl Harbor to enlist in the Division, McCown’s mountaineering skills, devilish sense of humor and contempt for Army red tape endeared him to officers and soldiers alike as he rose through the ranks. At both Camp Hale and as lead instructor at West Virginia’s Seneca Assault Climbing School, he trained thousands of soldiers in the dark art of alpine warfare—skills he put to use in breaking the Gothic Line, a series of German-held ridges and summits in Italy’s Apennine Mountains.

John Andrew McCown II, in the Tetons in 1939. Photos courtesy Private Collection of McCown Family.

Key to doing so was Riva Ridge, an escarpment so precipitous the Germans barely defended it—they considered it impossible for a company of soldiers to climb. They hadn’t bargained for the profanity-laced tenacity of the bow-legged McCown, who reconnoitered the hardest route to its summit, then led his C Company up the route under cover of darkness in the dead of winter to take the ridge without a casualty. It was a magnificent action, one that marked the beginning of the end of Germany’s occupation of Italy—but McCown never got to enjoy the victory. He was riddled by machine gun fire while foiling a counter attack the next day.

“It is a profound honor to illuminate McCown’s sacrifice and service,” says Beckwith, “and to contribute, in however small a way, to the country he died to defend.”

McCown’s obituary in the 1946 AAJ highlights the climbing background  that contributed to the 10th Mountain Division success:

“John McCown was elected to the American Alpine Club in 1940, on the basis of four seasons of climbing, much of it in the Teton area, including four ascents of Grand Teton by various routes. In 1941 he visited the Coast Range of B. C., back-packing through the Homathko Valley to Scimitar Glacier. Had he emerged from the war, his qualities of leadership would undoubtedly have secured him a notable position in expeditionary mountaineering.”

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McCown is the central protagonist of “Ninety-Pound Rucksack.” Dive into all the details of the 10th Mountain Division—and their untold climbing history—with Beckwith’s podcast.

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Looking for a brief overview of the historic connection between the 10th Mountain Division and climbing? Check out this interview with Christian Beckwith on the AAC Podcast!

We would like to extend a special thank you to Christian Beckwith and the AAC Library for their extensive research and resources that led to this historic memorialization.

Banding Together: AAC Member Feature

Climbers & drone pilots in training. Photo provided by Emily Johnston.

Grassroots: Unearthing the Future of Climbing

By: Sierra McGivney

Emily Johnston didn't know much about Ukraine before 2022, but like many Americans, she found herself glued to the screen, following the conflict closely. She watched as Russian troops waged war with Ukrainians in an attempt to bring Ukraine back in as a 'vassal' of Russia. Gunfire, missile strikes, and violence continue to wreak havoc on Ukraine's cities, towns, and citizens, and Emily’s story, and her desire to share the stories of Ukrainian climbers, continues to be as relevant now then at the beginning of the conflict.

Emily Guiding on Everest in 2018. Photo provided by Emily Johnston.

As she learned about the violence in Ukraine, Johnston couldn't help but think back to the times when she had met Ukrainian guides while guiding in Antarctica, Nepal, and other places all over the world. They were just like her, sharing their love of the mountains with clients. At the time, she didn't realize how important these connections she made would become. 

Johnston was 12 when she first started mountain climbing. She talked her way into a trip up Glacier Peak in Washington at her summer camp. She explored, climbed, and fell into a crevasse.

"It was great," she recalls.

In high school, Johnston and some friends bought Royal Robbins Rockcraft, Freedom of the Hills, and Cascade Alpine Climbing and headed into the alpine. She distinctly remembers sitting at a belay ledge, comparing a picture of a clove hitch and checking it with her work. 

Emily skiing the Tetons in 2017. Photo provided by Emily Johnston.

In 1987 she got hired as an Outward Bound instructor and then tried out for Rainier Mountain Guides two years later. She worked there until graduate school and has worked for International Mountain Guides for the last ten years. She joined the American Alpine Club when applying for a permit to climb Annapurna in 1993 and has been a member since. 

In February of 2022, she did a quick Google search of "Ukrainian Climbers," and the first thing that popped up was Climb Army—a grassroots network of Ukrainian climbers put together by Mykhailo' Misha' Poddubnov, a Ukrainian mountain guide. She reached out to them and began chatting with Misha.

She asked Misha, Is what I'm hearing about real? What's going on over there?

PC: Emily Johnston

His response was an offer to show her around Ukraine and introduce her to their network of climbers. The next thing she knew, she bought a plane ticket to Poland and was waiting to be picked up on a train platform in Kyiv. 

"Meet a Ukrainian guy online, fly to Ukraine; what could go wrong? I actually didn't tell my parents that I was going," said Johnston with a laugh.

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Johnston is no stranger to being bold and journeying into the unknown, so it's unsurprising that she ventured to Ukraine during a war. She spent the month of December couch-surfing, meeting climbers, and being welcomed into their climbing community. 

Climber & doctor on the right and Misha Poddubnov.Photo provided by Emily Johnston.

Despite language barriers, Johnston felt as though all the climbers she had met could immediately walk into her climbing circle and fit right in. The climbing community in Ukraine is just like your local community or group of climbing friends. They go to the local climbing gym after work, gush about their projects, and love climbing in all its forms. They have banded together through climbing to create a network of climbers helping each other. 

Johnston traveled with Misha from end to end of Ukraine, collecting supplies and then delivering them to the front. Along the way, she collected story after story of Ukrainian climbers, the terror of the war, their resilience, and how they have supported each other as a community. 

"It's this community without borders," said Johnston.

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Emily interviewing a climber, soldier and doctor near the front lines. Photo provided by Emily Johnston.

Lena, a climber in her late 20s, was in Kyiv on the morning of February 24, 2022, when the bombing started. Lena's friends had a cabin outside the city, and the two fled Kyiv hoping to find safety. The cabin was in Bucha, where Russian forces invaded and are currently under investigation by the Hague for war crimes. The two hid in the basement with their neighbors for four days and listened to the gunfire rain outside. When there was a break, they ran for it and escaped. 

Lena ended up in the western part of Ukraine. She had nowhere to go. Desperate, she remembered she had gone on a climbing trip with a guiding company in the area a few months earlier and called them up. They offered to let her stay in their office as long as needed. She slept on their couch and lived there for months. 

***

A wife and husband duo who own a climbing shop housed 50 people who lived in the building above the shop for three months. Another climber she met named Tanya, who Johnston describes as very poised, composed, and educated, went online and learned how to make Molotov cocktails because they didn't have guns. 

***

A group of climbers had gathered clothes, food, and supplies and drove trucks to the front lines. One woman, Oxcana, delivered drones, clothes, body armor, and kilos of Christmas cakes baked by these climbers. When she's not providing supplies and Christmas cakes, she runs a boarding school for kids whose parents are fighting or whose parents are in occupied Ukraine.

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Borodianka, Ukraine. Photo provided by Emily Johnston.

Johnston has story upon story upon story about the climbers who are fighting for their freedom. Amongst all of the couch surfing and visiting the front line, Johnston filmed interviews with all of the climbers she met. She recorded around 15 hours of interviews sitting with the climbers and listening to their stories. With the help of a friend, she is currently putting together a film in hopes of getting the word out. 

"It was even more inspiring than I expected," said Johnston.

Once she returned from Ukraine, Johnston needed to do something, to take action. She created a donor box account where people can donate directly to the climbers. She added links to her Facebook with photos, videos, and information regarding the Ukrainian climbers. 

Emily, near the front, talking with Misha Poddubnov. Photo provided by Emily Johnston.

As climbers, we inherently believe in the power of partnership. To climb together is to partner with another person. Every "On Belay" and "I got you" tie us together as climbers. Johnston traveled halfway across the world during a war to help others who shared her love of climbing. This network of climbers has unified and become a community based around climbing. If you want to get involved, visit the Ukrainian Climber's website here. 

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From the AAC Policy Desk

Photo by AAC member John Glassberg.

The past few months have been a time of transition for the AAC policy team. We are excited to announce that Byron Harvison has taken over for Taylor Luneau as the AAC policy director. Despite this transition, the small-but-mighty policy team continues to punch above its weight.

With the support from members and donors, we look forward to supporting climbers and protecting public land this year. Specifically, the AAC is concerned by an increasing number of land use restrictions and changes to liability practices that negatively affects guide services, volunteer organizations, and land managers.

Given the outsized effects land use and liability changes have on guiding companies, we have organized Summit Register 008 as the “Guide Issue” to further highlight these topics. Read “From the AAC Policy Desk” for a complete policy and advocacy update on these issues and more!

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