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ISSUE 323 

FEATURES  17 Guiding Life Rob Coppolillo details the sometimes-grueling but alwaysrewarding process of becoming a guide, from single-pitch rock climbs to big alpine objectives.

40 Expaddiction “A powerful wilderness experience, the companionship of new friends, and a raw, powerful adventure.”” Here’s what has adventure. gotten this pro climber addicted to expeditions. Plus, more than a dozen necessary skills to make your big trip safe and successful. By Mike Libecki

56 Built to Last?  We examine the what, how, and why of failing bolts across the world—from Thailand to Washington state—and how the unregulated practice of bolting is about to change. By Jeff Achey

64 It’s Always Sunny In… Fight off the winter climbing blues—and get out of the gym!— at these six cold-weather-friendly destinations, complete with warm temps and plentiful sunshine. By Amanda Fox

ANDREW BURR

Christine Balaz finds maximum expansion on the sought-aer, eight-pitch Shune’s Buttress  (5.11c)  (5.11c) in the popular winter destination of Zion National Park, Utah. ON THE COVER: Mike Libecki jugs his way to a big wall first ascent in Xinjiang, China, right on the border of Kyrgyzstan. With endless route potential, China has been the focus of six Libecki expeditions. Photo: Keith Ladzinski

C O N T E N T S   CLIMBING.COM

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ISSUE 323 

SKILLS 25 Leadership

6

What differentiates a guide from a really good climber? Hint: It’s not just about the technical skills. Plus, five cool tips to add to your toolbox.

Editor’s Note

76

The Guide

8 Flash

17

Auto-Blocking Munter

33

Learn yet another use for this versatile hitch: Put it in guide mode with just one extra carabiner.

Gear

77

Semi-Rad

38

Safer Lowering

75

Prevent a potentially fatal lowering accident with these best practices for communication.

Clinics

75 Relaxing Breath Though your muscles are working hard on a difficult route, slow down your breathing to nab the send.

80 Opposite and Opposed If you’re up high and have run out of locking carabiners, use two non-lockers instead.

HEALTH AND  TRAINING  26 Freaky Fit CrossFit, yoga, running, and skiing are all examples of how guides stay in extraordinarily good shape. Here are a few more ways to train like a guide—accessible to climbers of all levels.

28 Pro Fuel Food is a crucial part of any major ascent, from 10 pitches of sandstone to three days on a glacier. Make sure you eat right with tips from guides on what to pack.

GEAR  ANDREW BURR

78

33

Strength for Alpinism

Super-Light Shells

Legs are the key to major climbing objectives, but they’re neglected by many climbers. Get in shape for alpine season with this simple program.

With spring showers come breathable, lightweight rain shells. Here are Climbing  testers’ picks for the five best  jackets of this season.

Just outside of Rapid City, South Dakota, Victoria Canyon is home to some of the steepest limestone in the state, and many of the routes are belayed from a boat.

C O N T E N T S   2 |  M A R C H 2 0 1 4

One less decision The new Alpine Houdini® Jacket is a sub-7-oz waterproof shell that clips unobtrusively to your harness, deploys when you need it to shed weather, and vanishes into its own  pocket when you don’t. Whether you push on or bail, bringing it is the best decision  you don’t have to make. patagonia.com/speedof light Trevor Hobbs makes a dash up (and down) the Beckey-Chouinard route. The Bugaboos, Canada. MIKEY SCHAEFER © 2014 Patagonia, Inc.

LEADING SINCE 1970

EDITORIAL

Editor SHANNON DAVIS

Art Director JACQUELINE MCCAFFREY

Gear Editor JULIE ELLISON

Destinations Editor AMANDA FOX

Editor at Large DOUGALD MACDONALD

Senior Contributing Photographer ANDREW BURR

Staff Photographer BEN FULLERTON

Tablet Media Specialist CRYSTAL SAGAN

Intern CLAIRE RICKS

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EDITOR’S  NOTE 

Spring Ahead BY SHANNON DAVIS

Perhaps you call it stoke. Or psych. Maybe passion. No matter the tag, mine always spikes  just a tiny bit when I realize deep winter will soon be in the rearview. Sure, I like me some  water ice and blower p ow (I do live in Col orado, after all), but dammit if I don’t love those long, sunny, warm-but-not-hot days on rock a  whole lot more. I’d take a T-shirt over 800-fill down any day. During this psych bump, I find myself assessing (nay, scrutinizing) the previous year. How did it stack up against the 35 that preceded it? How did I do as a new dad? Did the garden kick out as many hot peppers as I’d hoped? And, of course, was I able to ’gram about things like my mangled digits with hashtags like #climberhands often enough? This analysis provides a bar to surpass. My grade on the last item is a little hit and miss to be honest (and so were the peppers), but maybe I’m too critical. After rehabbing from my first-ever broken  bone, I did climb a grade harder than I ever had. And I topped out on some really  beautiful alpine and deser t climbs. Luckily, climbing is something that offers unending opportunity for renewal and improvement. And this issue offers up an adult dose of that, too. Spring is at our feet, and it’s time to plan a year full of big climbs, the kind that both deplete and fortify you. MOUNTAINPROJECT.COM / MOBILEAPPS IPHONE AND ANDROID

Here are five things from this issue to kick-start your spring season: 1. Sunny crags you can pack your T-shirt for this weekend (p. 64). Top of my list: Wyoming’s Guernsey State Park. Its south-facing single-pitch sport routes get all-day sun on Utah-like rock. 2. Some of  the best lightweight shells we’ve ever tested (p. 33). Stuff one of these in your pack just in case. 3.  Words of  wisdom from some of America’s best mountain guides   (p. 17). Learn what it takes to be one, or just enjoy gleaning their hard-won knowledge on fitness, nutrition, and motivating climbing partners (like this nugget: “Sometimes it’s looking people in the eyes and telling them ‘You can do this.’ Other times, it’s telling them to ‘Man the f*** up!’”). 4. Contributing editor Brendan Leonard’s column about climbing like a kid again. We all have goals and tick lists, but don’t let those overshadow curiosity. 5. Mike Libecki’s best tales from his life of expedition climbing. Precious few people embrace life like Libecki. His story is a grand exploration of a cl imber’s need for adventure, a guaranteed stoke boost, and a lot of fun.

GET IN THE GAME 

DOWNLOAD YOUR LOCAL AREAS, TRIP DESTINATIONS, OR ALL 100,000+ ROUTES . ONCE DOWNLOADED, YOU NO LONGER NEED TO BE ONLINE!

CLIMB WITH ME THIS SUMMER Find out how to join our week-long trip to Deep Lake Cirque in Wyoming’s Wind River Range this coming August at climbing.com/sfswinds. Then, check out reader essays about last year’s amazing trip at climbing.com/readerwinds. JOIN OUR READER PANEL  Vote on cover images, weigh in on story ideas, and help us make the magazine you want by signing up at climbing.com/  readerpanel .

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FLASH 

Lonnie Kauk

Too Big to Flail  (V10), Bishop, California While spending fall and winter of 2013 in the Buttermilks, Kauk ticked several impressive highball boulder problems, including this massive 50-foot line, first established in January 2012 by Alex Honnold, who was protected by a staggering 34 crashpads. Earlier in the season, Kauk completed Ambrosia , a 45-foot V11 put up by Kevin Jorgeson on the enormous Grandpa Peabody boulder in 2009. Kauk, who is also a professional snowboarder (“They benefit each other perfectly,” he says of his chosen sports) and son of climbing legend Ron Kauk, calls this style of climbing “big-wave bouldering” because of the associated risks and thrills, similar to big-wave surfing. “It puts you in a life-and-death situation, and it humbles you to respect the rock and yourself, to climb with honor in your heart and mind,” he says. “In the end, you have a deep respect for the rock.” Most elite climbers accomplish these lines in “headpoint” style, meaning they practice on toprope before going for the ascent, in order to figure out beta and practice the moves. Kauk keeps a positive conversation in his head on these stomachchurning ascents in order to “stay calm and enjoy the moment.” CHRISTIAN PONDELLA

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FLASH 

10 |  M A R C H 2 0 1 4

Justin Ridgely Big Baby Buddha (V9), The Arch, Hawaii Just as alpinists check weather reports for a window of good conditions, boulderers in Hawaii check surf forecasts with hopes that the swell will be low. To climb the Aloha State’s trademark Arch, the North Shore swell of Oahu must be small. Photographer Forest Woodward and Ridgely raced the morning light through boulders and potholes to find the water level  just low enough to climb the 30-foot-tall feature. Local and pro Ridgely discovered the Arch a few years ago poking around Google Earth, and it’s now home to about 16 problems and five projects. Ridgely describes the bouldering scene in Hawaii as amazing, saying, “Development has been nonstop for the past four years. Oahu has 41 bouldering zones now, and we haven’t even explored the whole island yet.” The Arch and other nearby areas are subject to closure, so check with local authorities before heading out. FOREST WOODWARD

Kris Irwin Rainbow Serpent (WI6), Ghost River Wilderness, Alberta, Canada Although this freestanding pillar is described as two pitches, there is a 200-foot WI4 pitch called Aquarius  plus some soloworthy WI2 terrain that guard the base of this 330-foot route. Photographer Tim Banfield says, “Sometimes just getting to the climb is the crux. The Ghost [area] requires a serious four-wheel-drive approach and can oen shut you down before you even leave your vehicle.” One must climb Aquarius  to even see if Rainbow Serpent  is in good condition since it is located in a small amphitheater named the Recital Hall (this circular bowl is said to have excellent acoustics), which is also home to a challenging route called Fearful Symmetry  (WI6 X). Both routes come in rarely and early in the season. The Serpent  generally has plenty of column climbing separated by attached ice and chandeliers in the middle that provide strength and support to the whole feature. TIM BANFIELD

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FLASH 

Peter Vintoniv

Out of the Question (5.10b), Lone Peak Wilderness, Utah Salt Lake City is surrounded by mountains, but the Lone Peak Cirque is unique as an oasis of granite in an alpine setting. A five-mile hike with 5,000 feet of vertical gain keeps most weekend warriors out, but for those willing to work for it, 500foot walls with climbs ranging from 5.4 to 5.12 on solid rock are there for the taking. The Question Mark Wall is named for the near-perfect question mark feature near the top, and it has two ultra-classics: Out of the Question , where the last pitch heads right through the namesake feature, and the Lowe Route (5.8), first climbed by luminaries George and Jeff Lowe. ANDREW BURR

12 |  M A R C H 2 0 1 4

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FLASH 

Cody Scarpella Buffalos in Space (5.13), South Platte, Colorado Cynical Pinnacle, home to the famed Wunsch’s Dihedral , is one of the most revered crags in the South Platte area of Colorado. But the west side of the 350foot granite formation had only a single summit route, Buffalos in Space , an aid climb established in the 1980s. On January 3, following a variation discovered by Andy Donson, Denver climber Cody Scarpella redpointed a free version of Buffalos that goes le on small edges aer a 5.12 crack. “The crux of the 100-plus-foot pitch proves to be hanging on through its multiple delicate sequences, separated by little to no rests,” Scarpella says. He redpointed the line aer five lead attempts. With “out of this world” positioning, the newly freed Buffalos has already been called one of the best gearprotected 5.13s in Colorado. DAVE VUONO

14 |  M A R C H 2 0 1 4

Simon Duverney Trebenna (5.12d),

Geyikbayiri, Turkey As a member of the French National Ice Team, Duverney is primarily an ice and mixed climber, but he still managed to flash a hard variation of this powerful sport route up a long tufa in Turkey. Duverney has many impressive competition performances under his belt, including winning the Elite Mixed Climbing Competition at the 2013 Ouray Ice Festival by topping out in eight minutes, beating the only other competitor to top out the long, pumpy route by about 3.5 minutes. The Geyikbayiri area, about 15 miles from the city of Antalya, has the highest concentration of routes in Turkey, with more than 600 established routes of all grades and seemingly unlimited potential for more. Check out the JoSiTo Camp (climbingcamp-antalya. com ) that offers inexpensive camping, small bungalows, and larger chalets, with a centralized restaurant and bar. PATITUCCIPHOTO

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ISSUE 323 

Guiding Guiding is a sought-aer career for many climbers. The legendary Chamonix climber and guide Gaston Rébuffat summed it up well: “With the inevitable repetition of the same ascents, the work of the guide could become tedious, but the guide is not just a machine to climb slopes of ice and walls of rock, to know the weather and the route. He does not climb for himself: He opens the gates of his mountains for his companion… If the guide could take pleasure only in his own climbing, he would quickly lose his appetite for the mountains… The guide gladly climbs the same crack or the same slab five or 10 times in the summer, but his happiness comes from a deeper feeling, his feeling of kinship with the mountain and the elements, his feeling of responsibility toward a man who has complete confidence in him.”

Bruno Schläppi and Ruth Meyer make their way up the Rosenlaui Horn in the Bernese Oberland, or the Bernese Highlands, of Switzerland. Mountain guiding has been a highly regarded profession for more than a century in Europe.

THE GUIDE  PATITUCCIPHOTO

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THE GUIDE  Guiding

Exum Mountain guide Zahan Billimoria shows the way in Wyoming’s Teton Range. It’s Exum custom to have clients lead the final steps to the summit of the Grand Teton. BY ROB COPPOLILLO

“COME DOWN TO CRESTED

The Guiding Life WISDOM 

Climbing’s challenging but highly rewarding career is a lifelong pursuit

18 |  M A R C H 2 0 1 4

Butte sometime, and I’ll show you,” the gentleman said. Swiss-French, slightly built, mellow, self-assured, and my neighbor on a flight home to Colorado, he wrote his name into my journal in Euro-cursive, with a phone number, too:  Jean Pavillard. He’d just spent a half hour describing ridge traverses in the Bernese Oberland, bottomless powder lines in the Rockies, and his little village in the Swiss Alps. He said he was a professional mountain guide. I’d heard of such a thing, but no one had ever described the job in detail. This guy had just permanently warped my 23-year-old brain on the idea of helping others ski and climb, and making a decent living at it. The year was 1993, I’d  just graduated from the University of Colorado in Boulder, and I had to make a living… right? I fell into writing around this time, for many of the same reasons guiding appealed: flexibility, the ability to travel for “work,” and avoiding the cubicle. Making a living in the hills, though, promised even more. I grew up skiing and climbing in Colorado, so I preferred that landscape more than the desert, more than the ocean. Plus, to be able to move confidently and competently through the mountains— on glaciers, up frozen waterfalls, across endless rock ridges, down snowy couloirs—seemed the obvious result if I were to pursue life and work in the vertical. Meanwhile, giving others a lifetime experience in that realm…

    N     O     D     R     A     B     Y     D     N     A

The sun shines on the Matterhorn in early morning while two alpine climbers ascend the Arbengrat route on Ober Gabelhorn above Zermatt, Switzerland.

      O       T       O       H       P       I       C       C       U       T       I       T       A       P

Well, that seemed like an exceptional craft. Over these ensuing  years I’ve never crossed paths with Pavillard again, but he’s remained a big influence, albeit indirectly. Little did I know that back in 1993, Pavillard, along with many other guides, was busy creating the American Mountain Guides Association (AMGA), the organization through which I’m currently pursuing certification in the three disciplines of guiding—rock, ski, and alpine. The AMGA came together after a few false starts in the 1970s and early ’80s. By 1993, the efforts of dozens of climbers and guides—Yvon Chouinard, Doug Robinson, Peter Lev,  Jim Donini, John Fischer, Allen Pietrasanta, Allan

 Jolley, Bela Vadasz, to name just a few—allowed the AMGA to apply for membership into the International Federation of Mountain Guides Associations (IFMGA), an umbrella organization that oversees guiding worldwide. From that point on, AMGA guides traveled to other countries to study various curricula, standards, and exam procedures in an effort to create the American program. During the same period, representatives from the IFMGA visited the States and audited courses and offered feedback, all to bring the U.S. scene up to the elite standards of Canada, New Zealand, Switzerland, France, Italy, Austria, and the other member states. By 1997, the U.S. was in, the same year as Sweden.

I shadowed a couple routes in Eldorado Can-  yon and didn’t offend the cli-  ents. By 2006, Beck told me to either buck up and do an AMGA course, or go do something else. I took the bait. Now it was possible to study in the States and still receive full international certification in mountain guiding, just like men and women from Chamonix, Zermatt, and Grindelwald had done for a century or more.

This is not to say I’ve been working on my cert, or “pin” (because of the pin many IFMGA guides wear on their jackets), for 20 years. After meeting Pavillard, I burned up almost a decade racing bikes. By the time I’d grown tired of leg shaving and “manorexia,” I was 30. I partied for a year, and then one afternoon I pedaled out of Burning Man’s Black Rock City and thought, What’s next? While on a bike ride later that fall, I off-handedly mentioned the idea of guiding to a buddy, who said, “I know a Swiss guy looking for apprentices. I could introduce you.” Six months later, I’d managed to con Markus Beck, an IFMGA guide and founder of Alpine World Ascents, in Boulder, into letting me

apprentice. It was a far cry from Monsieur Pavillard, but it was a start. I didn’t flail too badly. I managed to stay out of the way at first, and then slowly I shadowed a few ski days and a couple routes in Eldorado Canyon outside of Boulder. I helped out a bit and didn’t offend the clients. By 2006, Beck told me to either buck up and do an AMGA course, or go do something else. I took the bait. In January 2007, I took an AMGA “Ski Guides Course” in Aspen, taught by Amos Whiting and Vadasz, one of the pioneers of the ski program. Vadasz was one of the first Americans to receive his pin and was a ballbreaker on the details. He’s

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THE GUIDE  Guiding

a godfather of the AMGA, and I’m thankful I had the opportunity to have him critique me. He’s no longer teaching courses, so it was fun to study under him. I passed. To get further in the ski program, and to enter the alpine program, I had to begin working toward an AIARE 3, or the professional-level course offered by the American Institute for Avalanche Research and Education. Let’s just say I dug more than a few snow pits during those winters. On the medical side, I needed a Wilderness First Responder (WFR). Check. Onward. Unlike Europe, where courses are often subsidized through regions like the Aosta Valley in Italy, AMGA courses are expensive—upwards of $2,000 a pop. Add to that missed work and travel expenses, and you’re looking at more than a $25,000 investment for that little silver pin. I was living cheap (read: before marriage and kids) at the time, so it felt doable. I put my head down and kept moving. The U.S. scene differs from Europe in another important way. Here, a guide can pursue certification in only one discipline. Because our terrain is so spread out, a guide in  Joshua Tree, if he’s only working in Southern California, doesn’t need alpine and ski experience. In western Europe, you can take the first tram, do a mixed route, make turns back to town, and then clip bolts in the afternoon sun. It’s a different scene. Back to 2007. I began ticking the courses, and since then I’ve completed all of them in ski, alpine, and rock. Between courses I had to amass dozens of days of climbing and skiing on a variety of routes and terrain, and plenty of guiding, too. It’s not as easy as it sounds,

20 |  M A R C H 2 0 1 4

especially if you live on the Front Range. We lack true grade IV/V terrain in rock and alpine and no glaciers (a prerequisite for the advanced alpine

consumers. Europeans don’t think twice about hiring a guide, but here, there’s a block. Permit issues are another obstacle to

I worked through the courses and eventually took the initial exams in each of the disciplines. These three-day tests are called “aspirant” exams,

AMGA courses are expensive—upwards of $2,000 a pop. Add to that missed work and travel expenses, and you’re looking at a $25,000 investment for that little silver pin. and ski courses). Building the résumé makes a nice excuse to travel, though. The Incredible Hulk in the Sierra. Red Rock, Nevada. Mont Blanc in France. (Yes, my wife is a saint.) Guiding work, too, isn’t so easy to come by, for a couple of reasons. Colorado has plenty of independent, fairly competent skiers and climbers. Most of these folks don’t consider hiring a guide as a means to improve or for tackling greater objectives. Guiding, as a “product,” just h asn’t been successfully and strategically marketed to outdoor

growing the profession. In Rocky Mountain National Park, for example, only the Colorado Mountain School (CMS) has the concession to offer “technical guiding” (anything with a rope). Unless you work for my buddies at CMS, forget taking clients to Lumpy Ridge or up the Petit Grepon. (This could be changing in 2014. Stay tuned.) I hate to make Europe sound like Shangri-La, but over there, once you’re rocking the pin, you’re good to go, anywhere, all the time (with a bit of red tape, but  you get le drift ).

after the French term for an aspiring student. In February 2014, my finals begin with eight days on skis in British Columbia’s Rogers Pass, six days at Red Rock in April, and 10 days in Washington’s Cascades for the alpine section in September. It seems to be that for now within the U.S., one doesn’t need an AMGA certification—or any certification—to call oneself a mountain guide. While that’s slowly changing as land managers and insurance companies expect some level of professional training for guides, at the

moment your neighborhood barber requires more documents to work than a mountain guide. Compare, too, the prices for services in the outdoor industry. It can cost more than $700 for a one-day private ski lesson in Aspen (the instructor might get $300 of that), while we’re charging $375 per day (my take is $225) for a trip up the Yellow Spur (5.10) in Eldorado. Heated gondola and snowball fights, or loose rock and thunderstorms on the East Slabs descent? You do the math. We’re changing the industry’s and the public’s perception of guiding—slowly. So let’s talk standards. When the IFMGA observed courses and exams in the U.S., they were confirming that our curriculum was up to speed. That’s what you get with a certified guide—the peace of mind that he knows the discipline inside and out. Guides are expected to

American Mountain Guide (IFMGA) Chris Simmons leads his clients through nearwhiteout conditions on 8,868-foot Eldorado Peak, North Cascades, Washington.

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THE GUIDE  Guiding

AMGA-certified rock guide Ron Funderburke belays his clients on North Carolina’s Looking Glass Rock.

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22 |  M A R C H 2 0 1 4

know how to coach and to teach effectively, in a variety of different styles. We’re graded on soft skills, too—did we make the most comfortable belay possible? Did we transition somewhere appropriate—in the sun, out of the wind, away from icefall? Did we spend our day efficiently—five-minute changeovers at belays? Over the years, I’ve had good instructors and mentors, from Beck to several of Pavillard’s protégés—Tim Brown, Brian Lazar, and Vince Anderson. Luckily for me, all of them have been through some, if not all, of the AMGA curriculum and exam process. (Lazar wised up, got a master’s degree in snow science, and runs AIARE now.) This has saved me a tremendous amount of stress and has given me a good sense of what’s expected on my final exams. On the rock and alpine aspirant exams, candidates must pass (among others) the “45-minute rock-rescue drill.” It goes like this: The examiner starts the

perhaps a lower; again, he can’t help) and get both of you to the ground—in 45 minutes or less. It’s quite a mouthful, eh? Well, hire a certified rock or alpine guide, and he’ll know how to get this done, as well as pass a knot when lowering a climber (imagine  you’ve tied two ropes together to lower a person a full 120 meters), and have crevasse-rescue skills, including digging an emergency shelter and building a sled to lower a victim down a steep slope. When I started my courses in winter 2007, I skied and climbed at a respectable level. Along the way, though, instructors like Doug Nidever and Tom Hargis told me I had to up my game on rock. Piolet d’Or winner Anderson said to me in Alaska, “You ski fine, but I want to see you more comfortable on the steeps.” This was after skiing the Cherry Couloir on Python Peak, in wind-hammered conditions. Let’s just say I wasn’t relaxed on the 45-degree drop-in, looking at jagged rocks below. Heads up!

Once you get your pin, you haven’t hit the fin-  ish line. It’s really just the beginning of perfect-  ing the craft and trade of mountain guiding. clock while you’re belaying a follower off your waist, from a good stance above. The follower falls and hangs on the rope. From this point the follower can’t help. You must tie off the bel ay, escape, and then get to “baseline,” meaning you’ve transferred the belay line to the anchor and it’s affixed with a releasable system. Then you’re free to go for help, rappel, whatever. At this point in the test, you either rappel to the victim (to theoretically provide first aid or at least snag the flask out of his pack) and re-ascend to  your original le dge, or raise the victim up to where you are using a 3:1, 5:1, or 6:1 haul system. Let’s assume you rappelled first. Once back at the ledge,  you’ll either hau l or lower, but you’ll have to do both at some point. Once those steps are complete, you prepare a counterbalance rappel, rap to the victim, pick him off, and continue rappelling to the next anchor. Transfer both of you (he can’t help!) onto the anchor, pull  your ropes, rig another rappel (or

I swallowed my pride, bugged an instructor buddy for some ski lessons, and rededicated myself to climbing. Having kids along the way doesn’t make it easier. My wife and I had identical-twin boys, Luca and Dominic, in summer 2010, and I knew I had to get more serious with my strength and fitness. Short on time, I needed something efficient and hard. I’d bumped into Micah Dash the year before. He stood feebly and shook my hand, and then had to use his a rms to lower himself back into his chair. “What’s wrong with you?” I asked, assuming he’d banged himself up climbing. “No, man, it’s this chick.” She wasn’t a girlfriend; Connie Sciolino runs Boulder’s Alpine Training Center (ATC), which caters to climbers and skiers, and she’d put a hurtin’ on tough Micah Dash. Sold. My first sessions at the ATC included pain, flailing, a sweatsoaked muffin top, and jiggling

THE GUIDE  Guiding

back fat. I hadn’t yet started my advanced courses, and I knew they’d be far harder than the entry-level stuff. I persevered, marrying the ATC workouts with long practice sessions in the mountains and as many guiding days as I could get through Alpine World Ascents. My game has improved; the “movement” exams have become easier for me. And did I mention my wife is a frickin’ saint? The movement standards (your climbing and skiing skills) are attainable for many (5.10+ trad, WI4, 5.6 in mountain boots), but consider that you’re generally guiding two clients, meaning you’re trailing two ropes (another eight pounds on your harness). You probably have a backpack on, too, so add another five to 10 pounds to your back. Managing hazards, hauling more gear, constantly considering your clients’ comfort and safety—these and all the other “soft skills” of guiding make onsighting that much harder. When I first started in the program, the idea of traveling back and forth to Europe sounded reasonable. My dad’s from Italy, and if I wanted to guide there, I’d need my pin. Well, after a couple kids, a house, and a wife with a job, the Euro timeshare isn’t looking so reasonable anymore. I was also writing a lot back then and even sold a book, so the guiding thing was as much a honeymoon gig as anything. Having worked through the courses, though, and seen what it takes to pass the final exams, I’ve changed my perspective a bit. Guiding isn’t a hobby or a lifestyle, and as my colleague Tico Allulee, a certified alpine and rock guide, says, “I’m not finding myself after college or some shit.”

24 |  M A R C H 2 0 1 4

Mountain guiding is a job. A high-stakes job, as the guide faces considerable risks. It’s one thing to be a shitty lawyer or teacher; being sub-standard won’t get you killed. Half-ass it in the hills or at the sport crag, and eventually the actuarial table catches up with you. Being a certified guide means upholding the standards, as an obligation to your clients and as a survival strategy

for yourself. Even if one could “sneak by” to get his pin, I’m not su re he’d want to. Skiing in avalanche terrain, guiding in Eldo, short-roping loose gulleys—if you don’t stay sharp, you’ll eventually find yourself as the guest of honor at The Big Sleep. Or maybe you’ll survive and end up on YouTube. But you get it. Oh, and the punch line to all this?

Once you get your pin,  you haven’t hit the finish line. It’s really just the beginning of perfecting the craft and trade of mountain guiding. A ticket to the big dance. Managing stress, that’s the name of the game in 2014. Final exams, nerves, relaxing, getting it done. The guys and girls who hiked the exams say managing stress is The Way , so I am a disciple. Devoted,

prepared, practiced, and humble. The Way. To date, 83 men and eight women have gotten their IFMGA pin, with the majority working in the United States. Rob Coppolillo hopes to crack the top 100. He also repeats the words of a wise man: “Tips aren’t beer money; they’re mortgage money. Always remember to tip  your guide, frien ds!”

IFMGA-certified guide Chris Simmons with two clients nearing the summit of Austera Peak in Washington’s Cascades.

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INSIGHT 

How to Motivate Sometimes it takes a carrot; sometimes, a whip. BY AMANDA FOX

SLOGGING UP a snow-

field, panting beneath a heavy pack, with a couple miles to the next camp. Flaming forearms on the rock, still three pitches from the summit. These moments are difficult to break through on your own—how do you keep a whole team moving? Even if you’re not an aspiring guide, keep these useful incentives in your head next time you or your partner starts struggling. I often quote the great Barry Blanchard: “Remember, it doesn’t have to be fun to be fun!” I also remind them that they are paying me to make them suffer, and they may not like me now but they’ll thank me later!  —Anna Keeling It’s super psychological. You have to read the person and make sure he is in the right place and that  you’re pushing him just the right amount. Sometimes it’s looking people in the eyes and telling them, “You can do this.” Other times it’s telling them to “Man the f*** up.”  —Margaret Wheeler

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Early starts help prevent the need to crack the whip. Positive reinforcement goes a long way toward keeping the stoke high. Take good care of them; make sure systems are safe and they are fed, hydrated, and comfortable.  —Howie Schwartz

Out-hiking your client or partner is a fast way to lose team confidence. It’s important to keep the lines of communication open. I tend to talk softly most of the time—the Jedi mind trick of whispering “you can do it”—but sometimes I’ll set a challenge out and give them timed goals. They get rewarded with a nice chocolate treat or the like.  —Marc Beverly  The aesthetics of climbing and the surroundings tend to provide plenty of motivation. Choosing great objectives is about understanding abilities and enjoyment, and marrying this with the right terrain given the conditions. If I do a good job setting expectations and managing exertion, I usually don't ever get to the “buttkicking” phase. People always have more capacity to push themselves than they know, but pushing them in a reasonable way and providing good, realistic opportunities is the art of guiding. Setting reachable expectations and being clear about potential cruxes—be it exertion, movement, environmental, or exposure—lead to successful outings.  —Peter Doucette

Get more tips from America’s leading mountain guides on developing other key soft s kills such as empathy, confidence, and passion in our iPad edition. climbing.com/apps  DIGITAL EXTRA!

MEET YOUR GUIDES  Anna Keeling hails from New Zealand and has been active in adventure sports most of her life. She has lived in the U.S. for 15 years but is also a member of the New Zealand Mountain Guides Association, where she  works to help promote guiding in her native country. nzmga.org.nz  ¬

Margaret Wheeler was the second U.S. woman to complete the IFMGA certification, in 2006. She currently guides in the Northwest and is a  board member and guide instructor for the AMGA. proguiding.com ¬

 Howie Schwartz is co-owner of Sierra Mountain Guides in California. He co-designed the avalanche-course curriculum at the American Institute for Avalanche Research and Education, and he currently teaches multiple levels of seminars. sierramtnguides.com ¬

Marc Beverly  owns Beverly Mountain Guides based in New Mexico, and he authored a Santa Fe climbing guidebook. He has a Ph.D. in exercise science from the University of New Mexico. beverlymountainguides.com ¬

I try to instill in my clients the willingness to suffer. That’s what gets most people up mountains— that, and good weather. Many people are not used to feeling physically uncomfortable. Let them know it’s OK to feel tired, thirsty, hungry, hot, or cold; it’s all part of the game.  —Jeff Ward 

¬ Peter Doucette has climbed all over the world, from Mt. Foraker in  Alaska to the Sichuan Province in China. He owns Mountain Sense Guides in New Hampshire and takes clients all over the Northeast. mountainsenseguides.com

Jeff Ward is co-owner of North Cascades Mountain Guides in Mazama,  Washington. He is an instructor for the AMGA and also works for the Northwest Avalanche Center. ncmountainguides.com ¬

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THE GUIDE  Guiding

TRAINING 

Freaky Fit Stay in top shape and injury-free with these guide-approved exercises BY AMANDA FOX

GUIDES ARE KNOWN for what

sometimes seems like superhuman fitness. After all, they do make daily runs up and down hills like the 14,411-foot Mt. Rainier. Many guides use a combination of running, CrossFit, and recreational climbing to stay in peak physical condition, but it’s also important to incorporate strength training and injury prevention to avoid missing days in the mountains. Connie Sciolino knows a little something about both. As the owner and head coach at the Alpine Training Center (thealpinetrainingcenter.com) in Boulder, Colorado, and a mountain guide, Sciolino helps keep athletes of all disciplines in great shape—including alpine, rock, and ski guides. “So many guides are active all the time,” says Sciolino. “They’re active during on-season

guiding, and they’re active in the off-season because they’re doing their own climbing and activities.” Strength and mobility work are key, says Sciolino. Below are common exercises and stretches that Sciolino uses to keep her guides strong and injury-free. Do these workouts two to three times a week during the off-season, and once or twice a week when climbing season is in full swing.

Strength A few common exercises you can easily employ are the front squat, deadlift, pull-up, pushup, and forearm plank. Do five sets of 10 reps each of pushups and pull-ups; do four sets of four reps for the squats and deadlifts at 80 percent of your

maximum, resting one to two minutes in between. Hold the forearm plank for one minute, rest one minute, and repeat for five sets. Front squat ¬ Strengthen your quads and stabilize your core to improve posture and increase stamina Stand with feet slightly wider than shoulder-width apart, toes pointed out about 30 to 45 degrees (but always pointing in the same direction as your knees). Rest a barbell on top of your shoulders, near your collarbones, and just touching your throat. Use a few fingers (palms up) on each hand to support the bar;  your upper arm should be parallel to the floor. Inhale and slowly bend  your knees, maintaining a straight spine and forward gaze. Lower all the way down until the angle between the thigh and calves is

slightly less than 90 degrees (thighs are below parallel to the floor). Exhale and push up, straightening the legs, keeping chest out and elbows up. Deadlift ¬ Target your lower back and hamstrings to ease pack stress Stand with feet shoulder-width apart, balls of the feet positioned underneath a barbell. Point your toes slightly outward for more balance. Bend your knees until your thighs are nearly parallel to the floor, keeping a straight spine; bend from the hips, not the waist. Look straight ahead, and don’t tuck your pelvis or arch your back. Grasp the bar overhand, hands shoulderwidth apart. Exhale, push with your legs, and stand up; keep your chest lifted as you stand upright. Return to starting position; repeat.

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26 |  M A R C H 2 0 1 4

Forearm plank ¬ Fortify your core Start in pushup position. Bend  your elbows to 90 de grees, with forearms flat on the floor and parallel to each other. (For an easier variation, interlock your fingers.) Your elbows should be directly under your shoulders, and your body should be in a straight line from your head to  your heels. Keep your core tight and engaged.

Mobility Prevent injuries by keeping joints and muscles nice and loose throughout the season. Do five Turkish getups, rest one minute, and repeat for three sets. For both the plank and shoulder dislocates, do each exercise for one minute, rest one minute, and then repeat for five sets.

Shoulder dislocate ¬ Stretch the chest and deltoids for better flexibility Use something light, like a broomstick, or stretchy, like a therapy band. Flexible equipment allows for more wrist angles, but use whatever is comfortable—just not anything heavy. Grip wider than shoulder-width apart. The closer the grip, the more intense the stretch; start wide and gradually decrease the width with more practice. Lift the handle over your head and back down behind you until the stick reaches hip height. Return and repeat for one minute.

Turkish getup ¬ Work on thoracic spine, hip, and shoulder flexibility to prevent pain while hiking and climbing Lie on your back. Hold a kettlebell in your right hand, arm stretched straight toward the ceiling—it should stay skyward throughout the exercise. Your left leg is straight and pointing slightly away from your midline. Your left arm is on the floor, about a foot away from your side. Bend your right knee, crunch up using your abs, and lean over into your left forearm. Lead with  your chest—don’t hunc h. Transition the weight from your left forearm into your left hand. From here, push off your right heel and into a bridge with your hips off the ground. Sweep your left leg back so that your left knee is on the floor under your hips. Keep a neutral spine with a lifted chest. In one smooth movement, straighten out the lower left leg so it’s in line with your right leg and stand up on your left knee. Then perform a split-squat to stand upright with feet side by side. Go back down the exact opposite way you came up. Straight-arm plank ¬ Stabilize your shoulders and strengthen your core for better balance Same as the forearm plank before, but with arms straight and wrists directly underneath the shoulders.

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THE GUIDE  Guiding

NUTRITION 

FOOD CAN MAKE or break your ascent. Packing and carrying sustenance on a route is crucial, whether it’s

on snow or rock. But it starts before that, too. The night before the climb, eat a nutrientrich, carb-heavy dinner consisting of whole grains, beans, and fruits to store glycogen—your fuel source for climbing. For example, whole wheat pasta with red sauce and veggies or chicken and avocado provide an ideal blend of protein, carbs, and healthy fats. Make sure at least 60 percent of  your meal is derived

carb-rich foods, which get absorbed directly into the bloodstream to help keep muscles moving. Aim for at least 200 calories and about a quarter of a Nalgene bottle of fluid. A few quick tips to go by:

from carbs to amp up the glycogen supply. In the morning, eat easy-to-digest carbs, like oatmeal, fruit, pancakes, or yogurt, and make sure  you get enough l iquid on board, including coffee. If coffee isn’t part of  your normal dai ly routine, however, avoid it. Otherwise you might be desperate for the bathroom sooner than usual. On the climb, plan to eat during every hour of activity, especially

easy-to-eat snacks so they’re accessible (i.e., in a chest or hand-warmer pocket). By easy-to-eat, we mean fast-open packaging, tastes you enjoy, and food that you can munch on even while  you’re moving.

Pro Fuel 28 |  M A R C H 2 0 1 4

ÆPack what you know  you like; this isn’t the b est time to try anything new. ÆDon’t

skimp on the calories. You’ll be burning a ton, so pack enough to replenish those calories burned, plus more.

ÆPack

Shopping list A few tried-and-true, durable snacks to power  your climb. ÆString

cheese bars

ÆChocolate

Guides’ favorite snacks and drinks to take on the rock and up the mountain BY AMANDA FOX

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ÆDried

fruit and banana tortilla wraps ÆEnergy and granola bars ÆCaffeinated gel packets ÆMini burritos, pre-cooked ÆChocolate-covered espresso beans ÆNuts, like cashews and almonds ÆHoney

From the pros ÆI

try to get people to understand their own fuel needs. I prefer real food, as opposed to bars and gels, so I encourage others to eat what is familiar, like chocolate and cheese.  —Anna Keeling ÆI

spend a lot of time thinking about this. Probably too much! Bring protein and fat along with sugar, like string cheese and meat sticks (cured

salami or sausage). Gummies are palatable and easy to eat while walking and breathing hard. And, of course, a Snickers bar for emergencies. Or celebrations.  —Margaret Wheeler ÆPeople

often eat too much at once, thinking they need to eat a lot more when their days are long and hard. I eat little bits at a time: nuts, trail mix, and whole-food bars. Fruit is totally worth the weight because the moisture content helps keep you hydrated. Drink mixes are good to replace electrolytes, but be careful with concentrations: A common mistake is to mix too many electrolyte-rich foods together, and too much sodium is a recipe for physiological disaster.  —Howie Schwartz

ÆPeople

who don’t eat, bonk. When they bonk, they need simple sugars because they’ve used up all their mitochondrial glycogen stores. For a long multi-pitch, I’m fairly insistent clients eat protein in the morning along with complex carbs, like apples. For alpine climbing and skiing, I advocate for a 50 to 55 percent carbohydrate diet.  —Marc Beverly  ÆDon’t

deviate too far from the foods of daily life. On multi-day outings, variety is important; too many of the same bars and chews isn’t appealing. Pick foods that satisfy  you normally, like a tasty sandwich or baked goods, and then supplement with chocolate, cheese, nuts, dried fruit, etc. If  you’re going to be in

sustained below-freezing temps, consider what the food will be like frozen. On bigger single-day outings, starting with a good breakfast and truly hydrating at the beginning of the day are crucial. Remember to eat and drink once you start; often guests get so into it that time flies by without eating, and that’s when they fall behind. Tuck snacks into a pocket where they are truly handy.  —Peter Doucette depends on the person and the type of climbing. On long rock routes, bring something that can be eaten easily at the belay, like energy gels and bars. The bulk of my food on multi-day mountain routes is normal, everyday food. Making sure you get enough calo-

ries is much easier if your lunch bag is stuffed full of tasty food. Variety is also important because you never know what your body is going to crave at higher altitudes or during that 2 a.m. alpine start.  —Jeff Ward

ÆFood

GET MORE

Download our iPad app for more nutrition and training advice at climbing .com/apps

CLIMBING.COM

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THE GUIDE  Guiding

STATS 

Professional Guiding: By the numbers

24 91 1,825 78 97

$23,200 Cost of IFMGA tuition

Number of international guiding associations that are IFMGA partners

# of IFMGA guides

# of IFMGA guides in U.S.

1. Colorado

2.

Washington

3.

California

Total estimated cost of becoming IFMGA certified

Approximate number of days to become IFMGA certified

AMGA alpine guides

TOP 3 STATES:

$50,000

165

AMGA rock guides

Do you have what it takes? Rock Guide

10

WI4

1

Routes grade IV or longer, led or shared lead

Level of ice you need to lead

Successful Rock Instructor course completion

Alpine Guide

10

5.10+/A2

1

Days guiding in alpine terrain

Level of free (trad and sport) and aid climbing  you should be able to lead

Successful Rock Instructor course completion, 3 other alpine/ice-related courses; 1 level III avalanche certification

20/10 Trad routes grade III or longer you must have guided; trad routes rated 5.10+ or harder  you must have guided, respectively

30 |  M A R C H 2 0 1 4

5 Alpine routes grade IV or longer, led or shared lead

10 5.10a/5.6 Level you must lead (crack and face climbs) in rock shoes and mountaineering boots, respectively

Alpine trad routes 5.10 or harder, led or shared lead Learn more at amga.com

Becoming a guide is challenging. Here are a few tips from the pros. Take professionalism seriously. Get AMGAcertified before you get too old and crusty and miss the boat entirely. Most important: Just get out there. Push yourself to climb, hard and often. Get the most out of every day by keeping a journal of your experiences and the lessons learned. Formalize your planning process and debrief each day’s decisions and events at the end. Write everything down. —Howie Schwartz  ¬

Get as much training and shadowing of a guide as possible in the discipline you’re pursuing; showing up unprepared is not wise. Arrive a week or two early for an exam so you can be in tune with the local areas in which you’re  being examined. Spend time in as many different environments as you can. Keep a running résumé of all your personal climbing and skiing endeavors. Record all of your trips, successful or not. Make notes on why you were not successful as learning points. —Marc Beverly ¬

Diversify. Climb and work in as many different regions as possible, work on your teaching skills, and seek good mentorship and training for the type of guiding you aspire to. Guides and climbers often play to their own strengths, but  being a well-rounded guide, having solid technical skills that balances great movement skills, and showing savvy interpersonal ability are all essential to helping a guest move well and enjoy the mountains while mitigating inherent risks. —Peter Doucette ¬

Try to land a job with a larger guide service that gives you mileage with real clients and allows you to dial in your client care. These  jobs tend to be a bit repe titive, but that allows  you to improve without having to be onsighting every day. Start AMGA training early, but take your time to absorb the material so you can introduce it into your guiding and climbing at appropriate times. —Jeff Ward  ¬

ISSUE 323 

Shells Truth be told, there are lots of great waterproof-breathable  jackets out there—it’s a buyer’s market. But what separates the adequate from the stellar, especially for our finicky set, are the bells and whistles designed to fit climbers’ specific needs. From top to bottom, we break down what details you should look for in a shell, whether you’re climbing V5 boulders or grade V routes. Then flip the page for our top five picks that mix and match these extras for practical use in the field—each weighing in at less than 14 ounces.

High hand pockets Many jackets have low hand pockets (near your hips), but these become useless when covered by a climbing harness or a pack’s hipbelt. For an actual climbing scenario, look for pockets that sit high in front, around the bottom of your rib cage. Many ultralight jackets eliminate these pockets altogether, instead opting for a singular chest pocket for sundries.

Stiff visor A floppy visor can be worse than no visor at all, so designers include a layer of more rigid material in a broad strip to fortify the bill so it stands up to harsher precipitation. This stiffened visor increases the amount of protected space over your face, giving you more mobility, so you can look up and side to side without fear of water blasting you. Some visors also incorporate a thin, pliable metal rod that you can mold to fit the shape of your dome.

Helmet-compatible hood You want to fit the hood over your helmet instead of under. Wearing the hood underneath a helmet will keep you dry, but it can be hard to see and hear. Adjustable elastic-cord systems in the rear allow you to get big volume for a brain bucket, or cinch down so your bare noggin isn’t swimming. Some simpler setups involve Velcro or non-adjustable elastic that expand to fit a helmet, but you can’t fine-tune the size as well.

Immovable hem Nearly all jackets have cordlocks at the hem to keep the shell in place. But Arc’teryx went one step further for climbers with its Harness Hemlock, a six-inch-long foam tube around the drawcord that keeps the bottom from riding up and out of your harness. It works because it physically blocks the hem from moving up past the waistbelt of your harness.

Stuffability It’s important for a climber’s jacket to pack small. Many come with a stuff sack or pocket that doubles as one. Patagonia’s Alpine Houdini also has a webbing loop so you can clip it right to your harness.

G E A R   BEN FULLERTON (6)

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G E A R  The Big Review

Super-Light Shells 5 climber-friendly rain jackets under 14 ounces BY JULIE ELLISON

Shell

Mountain Hardwear Super Light Plasmic

Patagonia Alpine Houdini $199; 6.4 oz.; patagonia.com 

$200; 8 oz.; mountainhardwear.com 

Precipitation is the enemy of the rock climber, and few things are as disappointing as watching  your project get drenched in a spring squall. Sport climbers and boulderers need an emergency shell for surprise storms, while ice and alpine climbers rely on these jackets to keep them dry and warm—a dire necessity—in their bad-weather battlefields. No matter your poison, you need a shell that lives in your pack—airy and compressible enough that you don’t notice it sitting there, but resilient enough to keep you dry. Our testers set out to find the best models on the market, and after a soaking-wet six months throughout the Rockies, Northeast, and Northwest, they emerged with five ideal pieces.

34 |  M A R C H 2 0 1 4

Performance

Numerous pitches of chimneys and offwidths on In Search of Suds (5.10+) on Washer Woman Tower in Canyonlands, Utah, were no match for the Super Light Plasmic. “This wispy jacket proved itself on the harsh sandstone of Utah,” one tester said of the seemingly thin shell. “It survived abrasion that would shred other jackets .” Not only is proprietary Dry.Q EVAP fully waterproof—it kept users totally dry through drizzles and downpours—but it also stood out in the breathability category: no overheating and sweating out even as temps rose to the mid50s. Credit this to the spiderweb of channels on the interior of the fabric; these pathways disperse your perspiration across the inside surface of the jacket, and this accelerates evaporation. It is small enough (about the size of a grapefruit) to always have in your pack, which made it great for doubling as a nice windproof layer for 25 mph gales in the Utah desert. Users lauded the fit, too, saying it was “athletic” and “moved well while climbing”; they also praised the supple fabric, which didn’t swish or crinkle like other shells.

A few years ago, it was unheard of to have a jacket this light be so extreme-weather worthy; one seasoned tester called it “the best ultralight shell I’ve used. Not many others reliably repel water like this one does.” To keep it light but still useful, designers went with a tightly woven water-resistant nylon shell with a DWR surface finish (see “First Defense” above), and an ultralight waterproof-breathable laminate membrane. The result? An admirable weather-beating shell that weighs less than a No. 3 Camalot. And though it’s translucent, it wasn’t so feathery that it wrapped your torso like tissue paper when it got wet; it stood up solidly to heavy rains and substantial wind. While this piece is bare-bones, there are still plenty of useful features: an adjustable and helmet-compatible hood, cinchable hem, and interior Napoleon pocket that doubles as a stuff sack. “Rack it on your harness, and it takes up less space than a cordelette,” one tester said who dragged it from Colorado to California. “It's easy to bust this out when the wind is whipping or the rain and graupel start to pelt you.”

Cons

One tester found that the arm holes were too narrow, so she had trouble layering over a fleece or a t hick puffy. A long strand of elastic cord hangs down from the waist when cinched.

Beware in chimneys and offwidths. It’s so thin that it is susceptible to tears, as one desert-tower tester found. Breathability, while adequate, was limited compared to others in our test.

Conclusion

“I’ve never even heard of another shell that’s totally waterproof, fully breathable, extremely burly, and less than $400.” Get the compressibility, durability, and versatility of a topnotch waterproof jacket at half the price.

This jacket fights above its weight class; it’s tough like a heavier shell but still packs small and weighs almost nothing. Use this for summer and milder weather, but bring along a heavier hitter for serious alpine adventures.

Burly and Dry

Flyweight Champ

Bottom Line

FIRST DEFENSE

While a membrane like Gore-Tex does the heavy lifting in keeping you dry, many jackets also have a surface treatment, causing water to bead and roll off the outer fabric. This frontline of water resistance is called durable water repellent (DWR). It consists of a chemical webbing of miniscule spike-like structures that force the water into rounded, bead-like shapes (instead of flat spots or streaks that seep in easier). A DWR treatment weakens when contaminated by commonly found threats: dirt, body oils, perfume, sunscreen, lotion, and bug spray. These contaminants leave behind water-attractive molecules that keep the liquid from beading. It is normal for DWR to break down over time, but you can extend its life. Regularly wash your shell with suitable detergent (mild powder detergent or a specific soap like Nikwax Tech Wash) and give it a spin in the dryer for 10 to 15 minutes, as heat exposure is best at reviving DWR. Then try running a warm iron set on low steam over the jacket a few times. If this doesn’t fix it, find a good spray-on or wash-in DWR; we like Nikwax TX.Direct Spray-On ($21.50, nikwax.com). —Devon Barrow

The North Face Verto Storm

Arc’teryx Alpha SL

Mountain Equipment Gryphon

$199; 7.1 oz.; thenorthface.com 

$275; 10.8 oz.; arcteryx.com 

$240; 13.6 oz.; mountain-equipment.co.uk 

“This is my new go-to summer jacket for climbing, hiking, biking, and running,” one tester said. “And airflow is the name of the game.” Two high hand pockets open up to huge mesh liners that extend from the belly button to just below the collarbone, and these channel air throughout the front of  your torso more effectively than pit zips. One tester wore this for multiple long slogs to Area A in Mt. Evans, Colorado, while another chose it repeatedly for full days in the White Mountains of New Hampshire—both in temps up to 60°F. Our Northeast tester never had to take it off between showers thanks to the extremely thin and breathable 2.5 HyVent fabric. A narrow fit allows only thinner midlayers and slim puffies, but without excess fabric dragging around, climbers felt more secure when chimneying and scumming. “It was nice not to have a Michelin Man effect where the jacket billows out and restricts vision down to my harness,” one user said, who chose this for a questionable-weather day in City of Rocks, Idaho. It also had a sleek fit underneath a gear sling and criss-crossing shoulder slings.

Three testers in the West gave this shell a 10 out of 10 for waterproofness after dragging it from the 1,500-foot granite dome of Elephant’s Perch, Idaho, to the obscure backcountry crags at Reese Mountain, Wyoming, and experiencing both all-day drizzles and what one called “a crazy-big storm.” She says, “This doesn’t feel like an ultralight shell—it protects like a jacket more than twice its weight. It’s bombproof in stormy weather but also ridiculously light.” Gore-Tex PacLite material throughout the jacket kept testers dry, and it gave this piece a more durable feeling than other thinner jackets in the test. “It’s beyond an emergency shell; I took this in the alpine without a second thought,” one tester said who had it in Rocky Mountain National Park and at Mt. Evans, Colorado. He also called the adjustable-Velcro cuffs, easy-to-operate zippers, helmet-compatible hood, and chest pocket “superb.” One unique feature of the Alpha SL was a six-inch removable foam tube sewn into the bottom hem, which was designed to keep the jacket from pulling up through your harness.

“Stop-and-go movement when belaying and climbing on the Cable Route  of Longs Peak is where this jacket shined,” one tester said. “It repelled all precipitation from the outside and managed moisture perfectly from the inside; the interior was never clammy and felt dry all the time—even right next to skin.” New proprietary Drilite fabric moved sweat vapor through the shell and away from testers’ damp bodies, and large, two-way pit zips maximized airflow in a high-heat area of the body. One tester called the venting system “as good as you can get for any price.” Plus, the inside lining of one hand pocket (opposite side of the chest pocket) and the chest pocket are made of mesh, so they act as vents, allowing in cool air across the entire torso. While a trim, athletic fit was excellent for large reaches and cross-throughs, testers also praised the polyamide outer fabric, saying it felt and stretched more like a softshell. A two-way front zipper made belaying smoother without compromising weather protection. A small piece of wire in the brim allows you to shape the brim however necessary to optimize shielding your face.

It was difficult to pack into the dedicated stuff sack/pocket, and there was no easy way to rack it. A few hours of exposure to a downpour left one user feeling chilled from the thin fabric. Hood doesn’t fit a helmet.

Moisture built up in this jacket during steep uphill hikes, and this limit in breathability left some testers feeling swampy. Pricier than others reviewed, and some testers would have liked hand pockets.

Heaviest in the review, but you do get plenty of extras that other shells don’t have. European zippers (with zipper pull on the left side) took some getting used to, but it wasn’t a dealbreaker.

With the trimmest fit and highest breathability of any jacket in the test, this shell is ideal for moderate to warm climates when  you’re not wearing much underneath and  you need maximum ventilation.

You get what you pay for—in this case, a full-protection, packable, and versatile shell that has all the features you want for any situation: “For the weight, this is the best rain jacket I have ever used in heavy rain.”

Sacrifice nothing on this fully featured, lightweight but substantial shell. Fully waterproof, breathable, packable, and durable, the Gryphon is ready for anything you can throw at it—all year long.

Alpine Ready

Quiver of One

Keep Breathing

CLIMBING .COM

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G E A R  Tested

For Those About to Rock Welcome spring sending season with these 4 picks BY JULIE ELLISON

OUT WITH THE OLD. IN WITH THE NEW. Restoring America’s crags one bolt at a time. In 2003, Climbing with the support of The North Face and Petzl launched the Anchor Replacement Initiative (ARI)—a movement to replace worn-out fixed hardware at popular crags across the country. Leading into 2011, we are proud to announce that nearly 500 routes have received ARI support and more than 1,000 bolts have been replaced—thanks to dedicated climbers who spend countless hours volunteering their time replacing hardware.

MEET CLIMBER BEN BRUESTLE, ONE OF ARI’S MOST DEDICATED EQUIPPERS Hometown: Pueblo, CO Favorite local crag: Tanner Dome Number of years you’ve been climbing: 18 Number of routes you’ve replaced as part of ARI: 11 Here are a handful: Bam Bam, 5.10a, Wild Side; Newlin Creek KC, 5.10c, Wild Side; Newlin Creek Tuff Turf, 5.10d, Titanic, Hardscrabble I Did It My Way, 5.9, Titanic, Hardscrabble

Learn more about the Anchor Replacement Initiative, future projects and how to get involved at climbing.com/community/ari/

IN PARTNERSHIP WITH SUPPORTED BY

truly consistent fit over the life of the shoe; one tester has worn the Oasi for six months and has seen no change in shape or fit. Vibram XS Grip rubber on the outsole was  just as sticky as other premium rubbers on all types of rock, and the 3.5-millimeter thickness upped sensitivity for delicate moves on small holds. $165; trango.com 

Simply smart -PETZL

Unlimited performance -TENAYA

OASI

High performance usually equates to an extreme when it comes to rock shoes: You either get complete flexibility or maximum stiffness. By breaking that mold, the Oasi offers a successful balance of movement and rigidity to be excellent for steeps and slabs alike. “If the La Sportiva Solution is on the most rigid end of the stiffness spectrum and the Five Ten Team shoe is on the soft end, the Oasi is right in the middle—with the same level of performance, if not more because of its additional uses,” one tester said. A stiff forefoot, aggressive downturn, and chiseled toe gave testers precision on micro-nubs, but an incredibly flexible midsole “was more like a rubber sock wrapped around my foot for maximum torsion.” One tester chose these as her quiver of one for Yosemite because they’re aggressive enough for bouldering, comfortable enough to jam into cracks all day, and have more than enough flex to smear on the Valley’s plentiful slabs. Plus, the rubber that extends up and over the toe increased grip for foot jams. Testers with feet of every size and shape praised the Draxtor closure system, which at first looks like any other Velcro strap setup. The key difference is that each of the two straps is adjustable in itself, so you can lengthen them all the way out for high-volume feet or tighten them way down for low-volume feet. A synthetic upper means a

BOLSA

Although your chosen rope-carrying system shouldn’t make or break your day—you can survive  just fine without one, after al l— over-complicated setups will annoy you, while a spartan design might not fit all your needs. Enter the Petzl Bolsa, a rope bag and tarp that is thoughtfully designed for sport climbers. The bag, which has two shoulder straps so  you can carry it l ike a backpack, is attached directly to the tarp, with an opening in the center of the sheet that allows you to quickly grab the four corners of the tarp and slide the rope right in. “It couldn’t be simpler,” one user said after hopping between a dozen climbs in one day at Shelf Road, Colorado. “Just pick

up the tarp, and boom, the rope is already nestled neatly in the bag. Unfurl it at the next route and you’re ready to go.” A large 55” x 55” tarp holds an 80-meter cord easily, and testers found it durable and hearty: “I give my rope tarps hell, but this dragged across sharp granite, gnarled roots, and abrasive sandstone slabs for four months of weekly use without a single tear or pill,” one tester said. A flat design (instead of the long-tube or rounded-disc shape) makes it easier to pack in the bottom or on top of a larger crag pack. $40; petzl.com 

early projecting sessions when  you’re falling a lot and beating the crap out of your cord. When you get close to sending, tie into the 9mm side so you cut weight and carry as little as possible when pushing yourself to the limit. “Why has no one thought of this before?” said one tester who sent her first 5.12 in Ten Sleep, Wyoming, while roped up with the Opposite. “I carried one cord to the crag everyday, but never questioned the durability when I took fall after fall. Then when I went for the send, I had significantly less weight—no diet needed!” The rope only comes in an 80-meter version, and it’s a bit pricey, but it’s well worth it for the versatility. $300; milletusa.com

WHEN SELECTING A TENT…

CHOOSE WISELY

Heavenly comfort WILD COUNTRY BOOST

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Two-in-one rope MILLET OPPOSITE 9/10

-

How many ropes does one climber need? That answer might depend on the day and the discipline, but most sport climbers have one burly fat rope for toproping and working projects and one skinny line for send attempts. Millet has taken those two cords and married them to create one long rope that serves both purposes. The Opposite 9/10 has 50 meters of 9 millimeters on one end, while the other 30 meters is 10 millimeters. Tie into the fatter section for days spent on toprope or the

“It’s like falling into the arms of a million angels,” one imaginative tester said of the cushy Boost. “My other sport harnesses are so slimmed down I feel like a roast with the string cutting into my flesh, but this nails it.” Wild Country calls it Load Spread Technology, which is a single piece of two-inch webbing that splits into two pieces as it wraps around the backs of your waist and legs. This disperses your weight throughout a wide contact zone with the harness. That means no more pressure points, hotspots, or digging into your sensitive kidneys; another tester took more than a dozen falls in one day when projecting in Clear Creek Canyon, Colorado, and never felt discomfort. A large Ziplock buckle in the waist closed and opened quickly, and elastic in the leg loops were snug but not tight, just enough to keep them in place. And at just over 13 ounces for the medium,  you won’t feel weighed down when redpointing. $55; wildcountry.co.uk 

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SEMI-RAD  The Relentless Pursuit of 5.Fun

Climb Like A Kid Again  Brendan Leonard 

  the base of a sandstone wall 30 feet from the chocolate milk–like water of the Colorado River, looking up and hoping to see a decent line that  went anywhere above 50 feet.  Alas, the Grand Canyon is a tough place for a climber—tons of rock everywhere for almost a vertical mile above the river for 280 straight river miles, and most of it pure choss—which is  why most people don’t go there to climb. But I  was on a 28-day raft trip, and I’d be damned if I  was going to go an entire month without climbing. Before dinner at Parashant Camp, I grabbed my shoes and walked downstream, looking for some decent rock. I WALKED ALONG

38 |   MARCH 2014

I ran my hand along the wall, finding a crack in an open-book corner. Seven feet up was a perfect fingerlock, so I pulled myself up on it, finding two footholds. Another perfect fingerlock above, and then a jug underneath a huge roof. I had found a perfect finger crack that was all of 11 feet tall. I traversed out right and tentatively yanked on a handhold, and it crumbled like a stack of Pringles. Bah. I stepped back into the crack and downclimbed until I could jump off into the sand below.  Walking along the base of yet another wall, I found a hole at head height, a crimp four feet to the right of that, and decent foot smears. I looked right and saw what looked like more holds, if I could stay on and swing my way over. What is this?  I started to climb. I put together two moves, then two more, and then

 jumped off. I found more holds, walked farther, and started to see a 25-foot traverse. In the fading late November daylight, I linked all the moves and figured it was around V2, with a couple of tenuous balance moves. It wasn’t very aesthetic, and it wasn’t a complete line—it just ended where the fun climbing ran out—  but I had found a problem, discovered something. I showed my friend Forest the traverse the next morning, and he climbed it with almost no hesitation and a smile. It wasn’t groundbreaking, and it wouldn’t go on Mountain Project—it  was at the bottom of the Grand Canyon, meaning the approach  was 199 miles of river running. It was the last of a dozen or so  boulder problems we’d “discovered” on our raft trip, with almost zero beta or knowledge of specific routes or grades. It was the first time I’d approached rock climbing like a kid approaches tree climbing—looking up and wondering if I could climb something. My typical research of a climbing route follows this pattern: Find route online > read beta > read comments > psych self out > sleep fitfully night before climbing >  worry on approach > find out route isn’t that bad or alternately, Internet commenters were right about loose block/sandbagged crux/runout > almost shit pants while leading route > maintain  bowel control > send.  At the bottom of the canyon, I had no ratings or be ta to psych myself out. When I started up something, it could be V1 or V5 or nothing at all, and the only way to find out was to start climbing and either fall off or send. A strange thing happened, acting on that childlike curiosity and exploring—I had fun. I brushed dirt and mouse droppings off jugs, blew sand off ledges, explored dozens of possibilities that went absolutely nowhere, broke off  hundreds of handholds and footholds, and found a couple dozen problems that may or may not have ever been climbed before. Not that I sent any V5s. But I played, and I tried hard. Lots of times, as climbers, we find ourselves chasing a certain grade or a specific climb that we’ve become obsessed with—it’s a classic, or a testpiece, or it marks a certain level of climbing we’ve  been working to attain. And sometimes we forget to have fun.  A few months before my Grand Canyon trip, I went climbing  with editor-at-large Dougald MacDonald. We spent a morning at Golden Gate Canyon, a fairly under-visited area near Den ver with a handful of one- and two-star routes. After climbing a three-pitch 5.9+ on Mt. Thorodin, probably mostly on-route, we sorted gear at the bottom and Dougald scoped an arête a pitch and a half above the base. “I wonder what that’s like,” he said, scrambling up the lowangled rock at the bottom of the cliff. I didn’t. I had no beta in the app on my phone. Five minutes later, he was leading a wandering pitch underneath the mystery arête, yelling down to me, “There’s a couple bolts up here!” Then he led a 5.10b finger crack to the bolts, and brought me up to a two-bolt anchor. I marveled at the guy’s curiosity, climbing upward into who knows what, with the enthusiasm of a kid exploring in the  woods. He’s been climbing for d ecades, and he still has this itch for discovery in his backyard. And I wanted that itch myself, the  wonder at what’s up there. In the Grand Canyon, I found it. And now, I want to find it again, to walk up to a line of bolts or a dihedral and give it a shot, because who knows?

 Brendan Leonard is a contributing editor for Climbing. His  first book, The New American Road Trip Mixtape , is available at semi-rad.com.

Mike Libecki and Freddie Wilkinson shuttle loads of gear aer their first ascent on Bertha’s Tower, an unclimbed tower tha t rises more than 2,000 feet in Queen Maud Land, Antarctica. This was Libecki’s fih visit to the continent. Bertha’s Tower was named aer Libecki’s grandmother, Bertha, who encouraged him to drop out of college over 20 years ago and focus on climbing.

A NEAR-FATAL ATTRACTION TO THE WORLD’S GNARLIEST CLIMBS

BY MIKE LIBECKI

denial Sixty feet up a shattered wall of basalt in the Arctic, I just hoped to find a place to set up my portaledge, out of the reach of polar bears. The rock—for lack of a better term—was shitty. But I was still headed up. A couple of soccer ball–size rocks crashed onto the talus to my left, exploding like small bombs. As I hammered in a knifeblade piton, a huge flake shattered like a plate of glass. The fragments sounded like ceramic tiles as they hit the talus  below. I needed to find a way up this wall,  but this line was death. I downclimbed and peered through the fog and rain for any sign of bears. Back on the ground, I dragged all of my gear out of the rockfall zone toward the nearby beach and broke out my stove to make coffee. A huge pile of polar bear feces mixed with  bird feathers sat between me and the ocean. I had no rifle. I needed to have a little talk with myself about my next move. For the past eight years, I’d been dreaming of climbing a rock wall in Franz Josef

42 |  M A R C H 2 0 1 4

Land, a Russian archipelago 1,000 miles north of the Arctic Circle—farther north than Alaska, Baffin Island, and all but the northern tip of Greenland. If I succeeded, it would be the northernmost rock climb ever done. Now I had bailed less than one pitch up. I’d only been permitted to climb on this section of the wall because no seabirds nested here, and suddenly I realized why: The birds knew it was too dangerous. It  was time to wake up. I would not be safe in a portaledge on this eroding-in-real-time rock. On the ground, a polar bear encounter was almost guaranteed, and without a gun I was just a fool. With hopes that a  bear could not follow, I climbed up a near by ice couloir and called for a pick-up on my satellite phone, and the next morning the Russian sailboat I had hired returned. The boat’s horn blared twice—their signal that they had looked for polar bears and it was safe to load my rafts. I paddled out through the rain and wind. But as I

climbed into the boat’s sanctuary, I felt a hollow feeling. I’d made the right call, but it felt like I was walking away with my tail  between my legs. Now I had unfinished  business. I would need to go back.

IT USED TO BE SOMETHING I JOKED

about, sort of laughed off to my friends and family. But now, at age 40, it’s time to just come out and say it: I’m obsessed  with expeditions. Maybe even addicted. Each year I plan multiple exploratory trips to unclimbed rock formations in remote and harsh environments. At some point, there’s always a personal choice: go or don’t go. And I always go. Knowing there will be suffering. Knowing I could die. Even knowing I have to leave my 10-year-old angel of a daughter, Lilliana, for months at a time. I believe anything  worth doing in life takes compromise and sacrifice. So far this obsession has led to

Libecki getting ready for real-deal survival conditions in Queen Maud Land, Antarctica. The team lost three tents to ferocious katabatic winds that reached 100 mph. On this trip, his fih to Antarctica, the winds were nonstop, and Libecki says this image perfectly captures an average day.

    I     K     S     N     I     Z     D     A     L     H     T     I     E     K    ;     )     R     E     N     E     P     O     (     S     D     R     A     H     C     I     R

    Y     R     O     C

more than 50 expeditions in more than 30 countries. My goal is to complete 100 expeditions before I die. And it all dates  back to a day when I was just 6 years old. It was 1979, in the foothills of the Sierra Nevada, less than an hour’s drive from Yosemite National Park. My first “expedition” began on a normal Saturday morning after hot chocolate, Honeycomb cereal, and Bugs Bunny cartoons. I had seen mountain lions sneak into the woods more than once on my two-mile walk to the school bus stop, and now I grabbed my Red Bear bow and arrow and pump pellet gun, and went to find one of these wild cats—I was going mountain lion hunting. I headed off into the forest without telling anyone where I was going.  Amazingly, I did see a mountain lion that day, with two cubs. She stared me in the eyes before following her babies into the woods. That day I also had a run-in  with a five-foot rattlesnake and shot it with

THE EXPEDITION-JUNKIE DIARIES (1 OF 7)  Beginnings SOLO FIRST ASCENT OF THE SHIP’S PROW, BAFFIN ISLAND, CANADA (1999) On his first big solo expedition, Libecki and a grandfather-grandson team of local seal hunters spent five days driving dog sleds across t he frozen sea to reach the 2,000-foot northern prow on Scott Island. They left him there, and he soloed the wall over the following weeks. “ This was the expedition when the solo needle first stabbed into me and released its joy into my veins,” Libecki says now. I remembered a day in high school when my biology class tried a small experiment to dem onstrate the sense of hearing. We closed our eyes and, without making a noise, just listened. We heard breathing, cars in the distance, the air conditioning, maybe a bird singing outside. That first night at camp on my own, I did t he experiment again. Silence. For the first time in my life, I heard no wind, no people, no voices, no cars, no airplanes, no animals—nothing. In the end, in a great meditation, I could hear only one thing: my pulse. FROM THE AAJ:

CLIMBING.COM

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THE EXPEDITION-JUNKIE DIAR IES (2 OF 7) Commitment SOLO FIRST ASCENTS IN QUE EN MAU D LAND , ANTARCTICA (2 005) “All the solo expeditions I had done had been part of a staircase of training to prepare for this journey,” Libecki wrote of his five-week adventure among the towering granite spires of Queen Maud Land, where the temperature hovered around 0°F and katabatic winds t hreatened frostbite and the possibility that no plane could pick him up if he needed help. On a good stance, wit h bomber gear, I gently touched one of the flakes, and they both went crashing toward the ground. I was expecting t h e s i m p l e t h r i l l o f a w a l l t r u n d l e , b u t t h e n a c h a i n r e a c t i o n s t a r t e d an d p o o l table–size flakes in a dihedral about 10 feet to the right of me exploded and roared with fury. Before my adrenaline had a chance to kick in, a truck load of granite let loose, continuing the thunder and destruction. I tucked into a fetal position. The Earth shook and screamed like King Kong. It sounded like t he entire wall was crumbling. Doomsday. FROM THE AAJ:

my pellet gun. Where the pellets punched holes in the snake, eel-like baby snakes slithered out. These moments of connecting with wild nature started it all. I could not have predicted what would happen that day, and this is what still drives me to go on expeditions. Not knowing what I  will see, touch, smell, taste, hear, and what or who I will meet. I need to find what I don’t know is waiting.

INSIDE MY HOME AT THE FOOT OF LITTLE

Cottonwood Canyon in Utah’s Wasatch Range is a stack of metal USGS map drawers filled with hundreds of maps collected over almost 20 years. They cover all of the planet. I pore over these maps like Sherlock Holmes, looking for clues that  will lead me to large, unclimbed rocks. Fifteen years ago I started acquiring maps of the northern Arctic: Canada, Scandina via, Russia, Greenland. I called, faxed, and emailed every polar institute or society I could reach, requesting maps and information. This is how I came across one of the most remote places on the planet, Franz Josef Land, a 192-island archipelago in far-northern Russia.  After exhaustive research, I found no clues about any climbing-specific exploration in Franz Josef Land, nor any evidence of big, steep rock formations. Which is actually how I prefer it. That meant I would have to find a way to get there and have a look for myself.

44 |  M A R C H 2 0 1 4

In 2004, after receiving information from famed Russian polar explorer Victor Boyarsky about a ship heading north, I found myself standing on the bow of a huge icebreaker, the Capitan Dranitsyn, on its way to Franz Josef Land. My nose hairs frosted from the Arctic wind as I  watched the half-meter-thick steel bow of the impressive ship split the sea ice. I spent two weeks in the Franz Josef archipelago, getting to know the Russian crew and peering through the fog for rock spires or walls that would be tempting to climb. I knew some of the islands rose to over 2,000 feet, so it seemed possible that large cliffs existed. I glimpsed one island  with appealing rock walls, but only from a distance—too far away to know if they  were worthy of climbing. The icebreaker stayed on its planned course, and all I got  was a tease. But the magic, power, and  beauty of the area had entranced me. Geographically and politically, Franz Josef Land is one of the toughest places to reach on the planet. This is where famed Norwegian explorers Fridtjof Nansen and Hjalmar Johansen spent the winter of 1895–96 after retreating from an attempt to reach the North Pole. There are rumors of abandoned military bases and hidden submarines among the islands. Travel for reasons other than military or research purposes is highly restricted. And even if I did get permission from the Russian government, how would I find an island  with good climbing and safely get to the cliffs? For seven years I contacted anyone

and everyone that could possibly have information about permission to explore and climb in Franz Josef Land. Every clue eventually led to a dead end. But I am not one to give up easily.  Year after year I contacted Arctic veteran Victor Boyarsky for any new information, and in 2011 he finally told me about a couple of captains in Spitzbergen who might be willing to make the trip. They  both were interested—for a hefty price—  but were unable to get permission. However, one of these sailors told me about the young Russian captain of a 50-foot sailboat that was supposedly heading to Franz Josef Land. I contacted the captain, and he responded the same day, saying, “I can take you to Franz Josef Land, no problem, and I can get the permissions.” (The captain has requested anonymity.) Just like that, a new expedition was in the works. Now began the usual planning, gear buying and packing, budgeting, grant applications, and proposals to sponsors. With a visa in hand and a verbal nod from the Russian captain that everything  was a go, I boarded a flight in July 2012 to Arkhangelsk, Russia, about 800 miles north of Moscow by the Barents Sea, with the same sense of excitement and curiosity I’d had going mountain lion hunting at 6 years old.

ONCE THE SAILBOAT WAS STOCKED WITH

 vodka, porridge, pickled herring, beer, drinkable water, and optimism, we sailed north from the Russian mainland. It took us seven days and nights of nonstop sailing, with everyone aboard manning the helm in six-hour shifts, to sail more than 1,100 nautical miles to the first of the islands. From my research and what I’d seen eight years earlier, I believed two islands might have beautiful rock walls to climb. But I’d never seen them close enough to be sure. In 2004 we had needed an icebreaker to pass through these islands, constantly crushing through the sea ice to make our path. So, I had prepared to be dropped off at the edge of the sea ice, and then travel  with a combination of skis, small rafts, and sleds to reach an island and climb. As  we sailed through the islands, however,  we encountered very little ice. Reaching shore would be easier and faster than I’d expected.

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Libecki leading the fourth pitch on Bertha’s Tower, a previously unclimbed, 2000-foot tower in Antarctica.

Here: Libecki and Freddie Wilkinson on Bertha’s Tower, Tower, during his fih expedition to Antarctica. Below: Libecki and Ethan Pringle, just before their 60-hour push on a 3,500-foot first ascent in east Greenland. It was the first time the two climbers had met or climbed together.

THE EXPEDITION-JUNK IE DIARIES (3 OF 7)  Fe  F e a r  SOLO FIRST ASCENTS, KOH- E- BABA MOU NTAINS, AFGHANISTAN (2 010 AND 2 011) Dodging the Taliban and encountering the worst rock he’d ever seen, Libecki c l i m b e d t h r e e c r u m b l i n g l i m e s t o n e t o w e r s i n t h e m o un t a i n s 1 0 0 m i l e s w e s t of Kabul. During his first trip, Libecki experienced his closest call ever when a huge flake peeled off and damaged all of his ropes, just minutes after he traversed beneath it. Two attempts on a spire called the Ibex Horn failed in 2010, so he went back the next year on his way to China and bagged the peak. After the climb, a band of horsemen rode into his basecamp and said he s h o u l d l e a v e i m m e d i a t e l y b e c a u s e t h e Ta l i b a n w e r e o n t h e m o v e i n t h e n e x t valley over. I had come [up with] a rating system, which I reference as Russian Roulette Rating, to quant ify the looseness of the rock. On a 1 to 5 R R R s y s t e m , t h e f i r s t c l i m b I a t t e m p t e d h a d t o b e RR R 4 , w h i l e t h i s s e c o n d tower was RRR3. The rock crumbled every few moves. Twenty feet below the t o p I t h o u g h t o f t u r n i n g b a c k , b u t I m o v e d s l o w l y t y  t o t h e s u m m i t , t o u c h e d i t with my hand (tag, you’re it ), and downclimbed. FROM THE AAJ:

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Libecki explores the intricacies of east Greenland on his seventh

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I also hoped the lack of sea ice might mean I’d be less likely to run into bears. During my previous visit to Franz Josef Land, we’d seen many polar bears among the islands. With no indigenous people living here, the bears may look at humans the same way they view seals: as a tasty meal. Two Russian scientists working at a research base in Franz Josef Land had  been killed by bears bears the previous year. year. The thought of being hunted and devoured  by this half-ton apex predator was just as frightening as avoiding the Taliban during a solo expedition to Afghanistan the previous year. I had had several polar bear encounters in Baffin Island and Greenland, and firing a rifle into the air had always scared them away. But in Russia, getting access to a rifle proved to be very difficult. The captain had assured me he  would supply one, one, but once we neared the islands I was informed that the government’s rules were too strict: I could not take a rifle with me. I had only flares. The Russian crew laughed and said my flares  would be like birthday candles on a cake as the bear ate me. I laughed, too, but then felt that surge of emotion you get just  before crying. I was really fucking scared about the polar bears. Surrounded by fog, we motored around icebergs as we neared the cliffs I hoped to explore. Only by radar could we see the island in front of us. After eight years of  believing, of dedicatio dedication, n, I was elated. After four hours the fog finally lifted, and I could see the walls: beautiful seaside cliffs, perhaps 1,000 feet high. But as I prepared to board my little raft train (one for me and one to tow my gear) and head to the island, I wondered about the real nature of those beautiful rock walls. They appeared to be columns of basalt, capped by an ob vious band of rotten rock. Unfortunately Unfortunately I knew all too well the dangers of rockfall. In Antarctica I pulled off a few loose flakes that unleashed a landslide that crashed by as I trembled in the fetal position. In Afghanistan I had to climb past a hanging flake the size of a one-foot-thick garage door. I carefully moved across the wall beneath the huge loose flake, and less than 10 minutes later, as I was making an anchor about 10 feet to the left, the flake let go and exploded against the wall, cutting into the cores of my ropes in three places. I zipped up my dry-suit dry- suit and PFD, loaded my haulbags into the second raft, and said goodbye to the Russian crew. Less

trip to the country.

 Mike Libecki’s expedition approach has has been shaped by his more more than 20 solo expeditions (out of a total of more than 50). When you’re climbing many days from the nearest other person, where rescue may not be an option, preparation and packing are not just the way to succeed on expedition goals; they may be matters of life and death. “It’s just me, myself, and I out there, t here, so it’s full self-reliance,” self-reliance,” he says. Here’s some of  Libecki’s hard-won wisdom. wisdom.

Prepare and re pair. Ta k e t h e t i m e t o t e s t y o u r t e n t , p o r t a l e d g e , c a m s , s t o v e , a n d o t h e r g e a r before every trip. Find out what fuel you can buy at your destination . Pack t h e t o o l s n e e d e d f o r u p k e e p a n d r e p a i r : l u b e f o r c am s t h a t g e t d o u s e d i n saltwater or mud; a file for crampons and a xes; tools to fix or clean your s t o v e ; a r e p a i r k i t w i t h b a l i n g w i r e , z i p t i e s , d u ct t a p e , t e n t - p o l e r e p a i r s , and bomber sewing materials. Assume equipment will fail.

GPS and Maps. Y ou ou m a y n e e d t o c o m e o u t a d i f f e r e n t w a y t h a n y o u w e n t i n , s o p a c k a r a n g e o f m a p s . D o n ’ t d e p e n d o n j u s t m a p s o r j u s t G P S — l e a rn t o u s e t h e m b o t h .

Antibiotics. Depending on the area, I may h ave up to six different antibiotics with me, but the minimu m are Ciprofloxacin and Avelox.

Med kit. Y ou ou l i t e r a l l y m a y n e e d t o s a v e y o u r o w n o r y o u r p a r t n e r ’ s l i f e , s o t a k e classes, consult a savvy doctor, and pack a full kit: EpiPen, tooth care ( t e m p o r a r y f i l l i n g s , e t c . ) , s e r i o u s p a i n m e d s , S u p er G l u e , a s t i t c h k i t f o r h u man flesh—the list goes on and on . And know how to use them!

W a t e r t r e a t m e n t.t . Trust me, when it’s coming out both ends for 48 hours, you’ll wish you had filtered or treated your water thoroughly. Same goes for exotic food (I’ve

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than an hour later, I started shuttling loads to the base of the wall. I watched the boat disappear as fog encased the island and rain started to fall. Polar bear tracks crossed the snow, but they were not fresh. I carried two flares in my front pockets, hoping to scare off a bear if it arrived. The plan was to call for a pick-up  by satellite phone once I was done climbing. If they didn’t hear from me at all, they’d be back in one week. The thin basalt columns of the buttress  were packed together like pieces of uncooked spaghetti in a package. I chose a line and started climbing, but when I was 60 feet up, the loose stone and rocks falling around me forced a decision: I had to  bail. I’ve I’ve only backed off a few other other routes routes  because they were too too dangerous. dangerous. Making a decision like that can be difficult and emotional. This time, though, I felt proud of myself. I felt like I had absorbed all my experiences and learned from them. I recognized death before it found me.

I HAVE BEEN ON MY OWN SINCE I WAS 16

 years old, when I first had my own place. Independence and responsibility not only came fast as an adolescent—they were all I knew. Still in high school, I was forced into early adulthood, with obligations and bills to pay, and to this day I’ve never missed a payment on a utility bill or credit card or loan. Even in the years when I racked up $45,000 or more on three credit cards or took a second mortgage to pay for expeditions, I always came home and worked nonstop to pay my bills. Now, after the second expedition to Franz Josef Land, I felt I had a new kind of debt to repay. I felt an emotional obligation to somehow get back to those walls and climb a good route. No one else on Earth  would  wou ld care care whethe whetherr I return returned ed to Fr Franz anz JoJosef Land, and no one would blame me if I didn’t. What debt should be easier to forgive than a self-imposed obligation? But I felt I owed it to myself to finish what I’d started. Returning to Russia would offer little mystery—the main element that drives me to plan expeditions. I knew exactly  where I was going. I knew the rock was some of the worst I have ever climbed on. I was terrified of the bears. I always say it’s the unknown that drives me. This time it  was something else. Did I need to prove something to myself myself?? As I neared 40, was

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THE EXPEDITION-JUNK IE DIARIES (4 OF 7)  E n d u r a n c e FIRST ASCENT OF THE WALKER CITADEL, BAFFIN ISLAND, CANADA (1998) L i b e c k i p a r t n e r e d w i t h J o s h H e l l i n g a n d R u s s M i t r o vi c h t o c l i m b t h e 4 , 2 0 0 foot north face of Walker Citadel, one of the world’s biggest walls. After snowmobiling 60 miles across the frozen Arctic Ocean and fixing a few ropes, t h e t e a m s p e n t 3 2 c o n s e c u t i v e n i g h t s o n t h e w a l l t o c o m p l e t e t h e g r a de V I I r o u t e , i n c l u d i n g s i x d a y s t r a p p e d i n t h e i r t h r e e - m an p o r t a l e d g e b y a s t o r m .

With ropes frozen useless, t he team was caged under their storm fly like prisoners. Soon the wall could hold no more snow, and large avalanches crashed down the massive cliff. The f irst large avalanche to bom-  bard them ripped their zippered nylon doors down and filled their portaledge w i t h h e a v y s n o w . H e a r t s b e a t i n g s t r o n g l y , t h e y e n d ur e d m o r e t h a n a d o z e n similar events. FROM THE AAJ:

this some kind of mid-life crisis? The expedition lifestyle is what I have known for so long—really all I know, aside from being a father. It’s how I define myself, who I am. I wondered if I could ever give it up.  When my daughter’ daughter’ss mother and I split up eight years ago, we tried to work it out again and again, until finally we had done everything we could, exhausted every angle, and realized it was over. There was some consolation in the fact that we did everything we could. And to this day we are great friends. Maybe it was the same thing with this third expedition to Franz Josef Land: I had to try ever ything I could  before I could actually actually walk away away..

I LANDED IN ARKHANGELSK FOR MY THIRD

trip to Franz Josef Land in early July. It was like one big déja vu. As we sailed north, I caught myself feeling like a fool. These cliffs were only about 1,000 feet high—much smaller and less technically difficult than walls I had soloed throughout the world. My only goal this time was to choose a different line and top out. As I steered the sailboat, dolphins jumped out of the ocean and two huge whales blew gusts of breath, seeming to welcome us as the first of the islands of Franz Josef Land came into view.

Libecki snaps a quick selfie from the crow’s nest of the sailboat, with the tantalizing walls of Franz Josef Land looming in the background.

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 We sailed straight to the island I had  visited before, spotting only two bears along the way. The sea was mostly calm as we dodged mazes of icebergs. The plan  was the same as before: The Russians  would return in a week unless I called earlier, sounding their horn twice if there  were no bears and it was safe to head for the boat. Of course the promise of a rifle had not worked out. There was nothing that could be done. I had the option of going or not going. I always go. I pulled my packrafts ashore, and the sailboat disappeared. I had stashed flares in my front pockets again as bear defense.  All alone—why do I love this so much? The frozen air filled my lungs with a feeling of freedom and vulnerability, and despite the wind and gloomy mist, a smile as wide as the Joker’s stretched across my face as I shuttled gear to the wall.  A couple of hours later, I started up a line about 200 meters to the left of the route I had attempted the year before. Once again, my plan was to set a portaledge camp far enough off the ground to  be safe from bears. The climbing was wet, mossy, and muddy. It was steep, but there  were great holds here and there. Soon after starting, I sent a big block crashing to the ground. Just like last year. Huge sigh,  but no surprise. Rocks fell from above up and down the cliff line. Fuck. I slowly downclimbed. I had been up for at least 20 hours since my last shift on the sailboat, and all I wanted was to get some sleep in a safe place. I switched to crampons and axes, stuffed a pack full of bivy gear, and quickly climbed up a nearby ice couloir to a small rock perch about a hundred feet up. It seemed unlikely a bear could reach me here. I cooked some freeze-dried pad Thai, had a couple Builder’s bars, drank cold water, and curled into my sleeping  bag and bivy sack. I stared up the couloir  behind me, sandwiched between two big rock walls that disappeared into the fog,  wondering if rock or ice would funnel down the gully and onto my ledge. I felt like a prehistoric man.  About eight hours later, I woke to wind and high clouds, and got a boil going for some instant coffee and oatmeal. I was only a couple of hundred meters from the ocean, and waves crashed heavy and loud on the shore. I downclimbed the steep couloir to my gear. I had one more idea for a route: an arête leading into a chimney that split

had ox penis, raw seal liver, polar bear, possum intestine, various eyeballs) t h a t y o u m i g h t t r y i n o r d e r t o b e r e s p e c t f u l t o t h e l o c a l s . B r i n g h a n d s an i tizer and wash your hands frequent ly.

“Always with me” kit. I always carry prusiks, back-up slin gs, and a micro-kit containing a lighter, knife, tape, a mini-headlamp, and a photo of my daughter for mental strength during a hard bivy.

Self-rescue and emergency practice. Go to your local cliff and have your partner play dead from the rock you just p u l l e d o n t o h i s h e a d — w h a t d o y o u d o ? W h a t i f y o u b ro k e y o u r a r m o r l e g ? H o w w o u l d y o u g a t h e r r a i n w a t e r i n a p o r t a l e d g e o r es c a p e f r o m a w a l l i n a storm? Can you improvise a haul, rescue, or rappel if you lose critical gear? Can you communicate with your partner when he’s out of sight or a storm is too loud? (Consider two-way radios.) Wh en it’s subzero and the wind is 40 m p h a n d s h i t g o e s d o w n , y o u w i l l b e h a p p y y o u p r e p pe d f o r e v e r y t h i n g !

Satellite phone. For the last-resort rescue possibility, if nothing else. (Also, invest in a G l o b a l R e s c u e p o l i c y o r t h e e q u i v a l e n t . ) I u n d e r s t an d t h e d e s i r e t o c u t t i e s to the outside world, but having a satellite phone has likely saved my life more than once, including calling a doctor to walk through emergency proc e d u r e s . ( W h a t i f y o u r a p p e n d i x b u r s t s ? ) A n d c a l l i ng l o v e d o n e s i s i m p o r tant for this lifestyle. As a father, being able to call my daughter has made a world of difference—to me and to her.

Entertainment. Pack plenty of books, music/instru ment, pencil/paper, games, etc. Especially when sitting out a storm for 10 days, th ese will better your chances for not losing it. Also, bring great food and drink, at least for basecamp. Sentimental or funny stuff can also lighten a dark m ood. I like bringing my Chinese zodiac masks for summit celebrations. (This is the Year of the Horse!) I have two necklaces that never leave my neck: one from my mom a n d o n e f r o m m y d a u g h t e r , p r o v i d i n g e n e r g y a n d i n s pi r a t i o n .

Research the culture. Study the language, history, and current events of the place you’re going. Try to speak the language, even a little. Research what it means to be pol i t e o r o f f e n s i v e i n d i f f e r e n t c u l t u r e s . B r i n g s m a ll g i f t s t h a t r e p r e s e n t y o u and your culture well. Get the phone numbers of local emergency contacts. Remember, without local support an d camaraderie, nothing happens.

Stay positive. O p t i m i s m . P a t i e n c e . B e l i e f . F o c u s o n t h e “ n o w .” T h e m o s t i n t e n s e a n d p a i n ful moments on expeditions often lead to the most wonderful moments.

Be thankful. B e g e n e r o u s w i t h a p p r e c i a t i o n a n d r e c i p r o c a t i o n b e fo r e , d u r i n g , a n d a f t e r a n e x p e d i t i o n . I t ’ s n o t j u s t y o u o r y o u r p a r t n e r s th a t m a d e i t t o t h e s u m m i t ; it’s the family, friends, supporters of a ll kinds, and local people who make it all possible.

Just go. These beliefs never let me down: The time is now. What are you waiting for? Dream big and climb those dreams. Death and/or old age is coming. Why ration passion?

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On his sixth expedition to China (2013), Libecki leads the third pitch of a big wall first ascent in the Western KokshaalToo, Tien Shan Mountains, while Ethan Pringle belays.

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THE EXPEDITION-JUNK IE DIARIES (5 OF 7)  Ho r i z o n t a l A d v e n t u r e FIRST TRAVERSE OF TH E TAKLAMAKAN D ESERT, XINJIANG, CHINA (2 001) A f t e r a n e x p e d i t i o n t o t h e W e s t e r n K o k s h a a l - To o m o u n t a i n s a l o n g t h e b o r d e r of China and Kyrgyzstan, Libecki’s liaison officer described the so-called Sea o f D e a t h : t h e T ak l a m a k a n D e s e r t . T h e d e s e r t h a d n e v e r b e e n c r o s s e d f r o m west to east, a journey of 700 miles. Libecki arranged for 20 camels to be fed and trained, and then flew to Xinjiang the next year for an entirely new kind of expedition. Just before starting the crossing, the local Uyghur people told him another name for this desert: “He who goes in does not come out.” Everything was ready. The camels were packed with thousands of pounds of supplies. Just a few last liters of water needed to be boiled for drinking, and we would be off into the desert. Just as the last of the water was being boiled, two liters spilled and doused my inner right foot and ankle. When I pulled off my boot and sock, my foot was little more than a mass of oozing flesh. A 3” x 8” section of my foot and ankle had simply melted. Just what I needed before starting my walk across this desert. The temperature was 117°F. FROM THE EXPLORERS JOURNAL:

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the wall and seemed like it might be more straightforward. This climb would have nothing to do with ratings, movement, or a beautiful line. I just wanted to climb up safely, stand on the top with my Year of the Snake mask, dance, sing, and rejoice. Why? It’s like asking me why I prefer chocolate over vanilla. I just do. I can’t explain it. My plan was to climb the route in a push and then descend the back side of the wall, cross a big dry glacier, hike back to my bivy, and wait for my pick-up. The descent would put me in a position to encounter polar bears, which scared the hell out of me. First things first, though: I had to get to the top. The previous year the weather had  been mostly blue skies with warming sun. Now the sky was gray and misty. But once I started climbing, my psych exploded and I was back in the moment of tunnel-vision focus. Aside from the loose rock, upward progress was pretty straightforward. This was probably the easiest route on this entire section of steep wall, but I still self-belayed each pitch, and then rappeled to clean the gear on jumars. I moved slowly and meticulously. I couldn’t seem to lose myself in the moment like I usually did while climbing. I was spooked. I found a good anchor with several solid cams, quickly equalized them, rapped down my trail line, grabbed my pack, and jugged and cleaned the pitch. Just getting a pitch done gave me some confidence. Finally, I had some momentum. Joy started to creep back in and clean out the haunting webs in my brain. Organically, naturally, I was acclimatizing, figuring out this rock. I started to make peace with these old mounds of stone. Hammer-tapping here and there and getting a good read on solid columns of rock or detached blocks, I could start to feel it and hear it. I h ad found some of the keys to this castle. It was just above freezing, and everything was wet, but the climbing continued to be easy, and moving meant warmth. Lichen and choss. Deep, spongy pockets of  yellow and green moss. Good gear here and there. My feet got soaked as I shoved toes into dripping cracks. After three pitches, the wind picked up, and I could feel the  wet cold setting in. My soloing philosophy has always been “slow is fast.” Keep moving and before you know it, you are there. Four pitches. Rap, jug, clean, stack, go. I had to

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tighten up my harness as the sodden gear and ropes dragged on my waist. The chimney turned into a big gully filled with moss and loose rocks, and I cut right on a big ramp. Just an easy slab and scramble to the top. I cleaned the gear and  jugged, realizing I was laughing out loud. The Joker face was back. No more shitty rock. It was windy and raining lightly, but I was too fired up to care. I took my GoPro from my pocket, put on my Year of the Snake mask, and captured pictures and  video of my celebration on the summit. The top looked like another planet, a plateau of rock and lichen and small bits of vegetation that disappeared into fog and snow and glacier. The feeling of being only halfway set in, as it usually does on a new summit—the true summit was  waiting back on the sailboat. I put both flares in my front pockets again, stuffed my pack, coiled ropes, and started down.  As I walked toward the center of the island and then down a dry glacier, I never stopped looking for bears. A snaking stream of water had cut a runnel in the ice; I scooped it up in my water bottle and sipped to avoid an ice cream headache. From the top, it took less than an hour to return to the foot of the wall. I held a flare ready in one hand as I traversed the base of the wall. An hour later, I had climbed  back up the couloir and onto my rock perch. Into my bivy sack, down jacket on, stove firing hot water. I was safe. It was over. Or so it seemed.

MY SATELLITE PHONE HAD FULL BARS AS I

dialed the Russian sailboat. No answer. I ate, rehydrated, and tried the sat phone again. The captain answered and said he  would be able to pick me up in about 12 to 14 hours. Sweet! A few hours later, as I lay curled up on the small ledge, the rain stared to pitter-patter like a drum. Then turned to snow. Then rain. Then freezing rain. The wind gusted. I already had on everything I’d carried up to the ledge except my plastic boots. I stuffed my phone and a few Clif bars into the inside pocket of my down jacket. Everything else was in my pack behind me on a small ledge. Huge gust of wind! Whoosh! I fell asleep, in and out of dreams of polar bears and of the sailboat picking me up.  When I woke up, a layer of ice glazed the bivy sack and the rock around me. It had been more than 15 hours since I talked to the captain. Wind, WHOOSH! I sat up. My pack had blown off and fallen down the couloir with all my food, water, and stove. The boat should be here anytime, I thought, so I settled back into halfsleep and semi-comfort. Twenty hours. I called the captain again. Another sailboat in the area had engine trouble and needed help. It would be another 24 hours. That’s when I started to experience something I’d first heard described by the Inuit: iktsuarpok. It’s an immense feeling of anticipation, leading you to keep looking

THE EXPEDITION-JUNK IE DIARIES (6 OF 7)  Sharing the Love FIRST ASCENT, TOMBSTONE TOWER, WESTERN KOKSHAAL- TOO, CHINA (2 005) For three of Libecki’s expeditions, he invited along his younger brother, Andy, who was not a climber. On the first, Andy helped shuttle loads. During the second trip, to China, Andy joined Libecki and another partner for the first ascent of a 1,500-foot granite tower. In Kyrgyzstan a year later, he and Libecki did another new line. “With optimism, belief, and focus, anything is p o s s i b l e ,” L i b e c k i s a y s . “ M y m o m w a s p r e t t y c o n c e r n e d a b o u t m e d r a g g i n g the youngest brother out there, though.” My younger brother is an amazing musician. When we first talked about this expedition, we made a deal: I would show him the experi-  ence of a big wall first ascent, and he would teach me to play the banjo. My b r o t h e r g o t h i s e x p e r i e n c e , w i t h t h u n d e r s t o r m s , v e r t i c a l t o i l e t s , pl e n t y o f hanging in space hundreds of meters off the ground, and summiting a virgin p e a k . B y t h e t i m e w e g o t b a c k h o m e , I c o u l d p l a y a l l o f “ D u e l i n g B a n j o s .”   FROM THE AAJ:

The World’s Coolest Mike Libecki Quiz You will not get a passing score, but it’ll be a blast. 1. WORST F OOD

4. BIGGEST COST

 Mike barfed for 48 hours after ingesting:

This much travel don’t come cheap. What was Mike’s most expensive expedition? 

Narwhal casserole in east Greenland B . Raw jungle deer in Guyana C. An ox penis in western China D . Possum intestine in Papua New Guinea A.

A. B. C. D.

Queen Maud Land, Antarctica Madagascar Papua New Guinea Greenland

2. WORST INJURY

The most intense pain of Mike’s life was due to: A. B. C. D.

Trenchfoot in Russia Flesh melting off his foot in t he Taklamakan Desert Pulling ticks from his scrotum in Venezuela Vomiting and defecating blood in Kyrgyzstan

5 . FARTHEST AFIELD

There are 196 countries in the world. Mike has been to 33% of them and climbed in 25%. What’s been his longest commute?  A. B. C. D.

Queen Maud Land, Antarctica Franz Josef Land, Russia Afghanistan Crossing of the Taklamakan Desert in Western China

3. WEIRDEST SUMMIT RITUAL

 Mike brings an animal mask (matching the Chinese zodiac) to wear on every summit. How did this start?

6. BEST GOOD-LUCK CHARM

 Mike never leaves home without: When Mike’s daughter pranked him by stuffing a horse mask in his expedition duffel—during the Year of the Horse B . When his Denali partner brought tiger costumes in 1997 C . When he wore an ox mask to ward off lingering nausea D .  When he realized a dragon mask bewitches hot chicks A.

    M

B. C. D.

A A A A

small Buddhism book necklace his mother gave him lucky crystal carving of his daughter he wears on his neck

1. I have eaten all of these things (as well as polar

3. This started in 1997 when a Japanese friend

bear steaks, a boiled sheep head, seal liver, eyeballs, many kinds of tongue, snake, rat, and unfortunately dog and cat), but the grossest was a giant ox penis in a Uyghur Muslim town in Xinjiang, China, in 2000. It was slimy, half-cooked, and veiny. I only ate a couple of bites. Hours later I threw it all up, and I was sick for the next 48 hours. I’m convinced this was not a physical sickness, rather a mental one. I was that grossed out. To this day, if I think about it enough, I could make myself hurl. Eating a giant slimy, veiny penis is not recommended.

and I climbed Denali (in s even days plane to plane). From 17,000 camp all the way to the summi t, we wore full tiger outfits, in honor of the coming Year of the Tiger. We le later than a few other parties and ended up passing all of them that day. Of course we got laughter, and also mockery. Wearing those costumes reminded us (and other climbers I hope) not to take big climbs and expeditions and such too seriously, to have fun, laugh, and be the professional kids that we have all grown up to be. I mean, aer all, every human was a climber at some point when they were a kid. Some of us just never stopped. I wear the current Chinese zodiac animal mask on every expedition and summit now.

2. I’m lucky. I’ve never broken a bone or been to the

    I     K     C     E     B     I     L     E     K     I

A.

ER. But my worst also happened at the worst possible moment. Just an hour before heading into the Sea of Death–China’s Taklamakan Desert, for the first crossing from west to east. As we boiled the last of a few hundred gallons of shitty water (literally) into potable water, a raging pot spilled onto my ankle and foot. By the time I got my boot and sock off, my flesh was melted. I continued on into the desert, and fortunately my giant medical kit was stocked with major pain meds. I medicated a few times a day for the next few weeks (the worst pain of my life as it healed, burns are sinister) as I rode one of my 20 camels. It finally healed, and I walked across the desert.

4. Queen Maud Land, Antarctica. It takes an

incredible amount of work, dedication, sacrifice, and compromise to make these expeditions and this lifestyle happen. It’s been such an amazing ride so far on more than 50 expeditions, that my goal is 50 more. There’s no trust fund or family money here. I have flat-out worked for everything I have. Anything worth doing will take compromise and sacrifice. Working with amazing companies has made a world of difference; without the outdoor industry, I could never have made these dreams come true. Some call them sponsorships—I call them

reciprocal relationships. I have had more than $45,000 in credit card debt for expeditions. I have risked my home and taken mortgage loans for expeditions. I have committedcompletely. 5. From dog sledding hundreds of miles over the

frozen ocean in Baffin to get to big walls, to walking hundreds of miles across a desert just to reach the other side, to sailing over 1,000 miles in the Arctic to reach remote islands, every expedition is a long, wonderful journey with a mystery at every turn. If you measure by mental strife, my longest commute was to Afghanistan. By miles, Antarctica. 6. Twenty years ago, my mom gave me a necklace.

She said that if I wear it, I will not die while climbing or on my expeditions. She told me to believe it—not 99 percent, but 100 percent. She said if I truly believe in this necklace as she does, it will always keep me safe. My mom is very religious, and had it blessed by her priest; it’s a medallion of St. Michael. I replaced the chain with 3mm cord and have not taken it off one time in 20 years. I also have a small carving of my daughter that I wear as a necklace. I have had it on for 10 years, and have never taken that one off either. I believe my daughter is always with me, and I am always with her, even when I am on expeditions.

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Not exactly a tropical paradise, but Socotra Island of Yemen holds tons of rock and route potential. Here, Libecki works on a first ascent on Mashanig’s Daughter Tower.

outside to see if anyone, or anything, is coming. Whenever I opened the lid of my bivy sack, I peered down to the talus and the ocean below, and I kept expecting to see a  bear. I couldn’t get it out of my mind. Could a bear climb up the ice to reach me? Back in my bivy sack. Instantly back to looking around. In and out of sleep.  Iktsuarpok, again and again. I was soaked from rain and perspiration; my hands were wrinkled and numb. I was hungry and out of  water, but I didn’t want to move until the sailboat arrived. I called the captain. No answer. Called again. He said the weather was very bad, and he hoped to be able to pick me up  by the next day, but not to worry. Hoped?  Another 24 hours? Bear paranoia had possessed me, and I didn’t want to move. I imagined a bear pouncing on my bivy sack and tearing my flesh apart as I screamed in agony. I shrank into my bivy sack and ate my last Clif bar. Toes numb. Sleep. Awake. No bears. Wait, what is that? Just ice.  Iktsuarpok. Another call to the captain. No answer. Again. No answer. Cold, wet, cramping. I kept looking at my watch. I pictured getting on the  boat, going home, and seeing my daughter. Twenty more hours passed. Waves crashed on the shoreline. Then… Rrrrrt! Rrrrrt! Two high-pitched blasts from a

Libecki and his daughter, Lilliana, at age 10. Libecki is taking her on a first ascent /descent ski expedition this year to Antarctica. She has traveled the world with him, with plans to visit all the continents by age 12.

horn. I sat up. Was it real? I couldn’t see anything through the fog and rain. Two more short bursts… Rrrrt! Rrrrt! It had  been almost 70 hours since I climbed onto the perch. My muscles felt stiff and atrophied, and

THE EXPEDITION-JUNK IE DIARIES (7 OF 7)  Jungle Suffering  FIRST ASC ENT, MORANGMA, G UYANA (2 010) After a botched TV-sponsored expedition left his gear stranded in the jungles of Guyana, Libecki returned alone five months later to retrieve the equipment and climb a new route on a sandstone tepui. He befriended three local men a n d , a f t e r t e a c h i n g t h e m t o b e l a y a n d j u m a r , i n v i t ed t h e m a l o n g f o r a n a d v e n turous multi-pitch first ascent.

Some vines were strong enough to hold my weight when I equalized two or three limbs like an insect. At one point, run out 90 feet, I was so pumped I had to wrap my right arm around a vine and grab my wrist with my left hand. Darkness encroached as I continued up near-vertical vines and trees—so many, I did not even touch stone. Finally, with headlamps, we all climbed wet, slippery 5.5 vines to t he top, and then sat out the night under a small rock overhang. My feet throbbed from being wet for several days. When we got down and I finally took off my climbing shoes, I noticed something attached to the bottoms of my ankles: foot-shaped clumps of cau-  liflower, white with a blue hue. FROM THE AAJ:

    F     R     I     H     C     S     E     K     I     M    ;     )     E     T     I     S     O     P     P     O     (     G     N     I     L     L     E     H     H     S     O     J

The AAJ (A merican Alpine Journal) is published annually by the American Alpine Club: $35, free to AAC members. (Members also get rescue insurance.) Read all of Mike Libecki’s AAJ stories at p u b l i c a t i o n s . a m e r i c a n a l p i n e c l u b . o r g .

I could barely move, but as quickly as I could, I rolled my wet sleeping bag and  bivy sack into a ball and crammed my feet into my plastic boots, put on crampons, and grabbed my axes. I downclimbed to the talus and began dragging and trundling my haulbags toward the shoreline. Half an hour after I reached the ship, we  were sailing away from the island. The crew had baked a cake to celebrate the fact that I didn’t become a polar bear meal.  When I told them I’d made it to the top, they pressed vodka shots on me. But my  body was devastated. I felt something like heart palpitations and couldn’t breathe right. Scared, I drank more tea and told the Russians I had to sleep. Thirty hours passed before I rose from my bunk. My toes and feet throbbed in horrific pain as we sailed back toward the mainland. One of my big toes turned black, and the nail eventually fell off. I had lost 15 pounds. I’d gotten schooled. The expedition that I had obsessed over for years, sacrificed for, compromised for, was over. Now it had become a training trip for the next. And then that next trip would e ventually lead into the one after. When would it end? I turned my mind away from such thoughts and began to focus on logistics. I was due to meet my partners in less than 10 days for an unclimbed wall in China.

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C l                 i m       b i                n   g        a n          P h                o t             B   y             c h               o s            J           o       b   y             e f   f                   r s              A n             A c            a n            d r               h e          d           e w                y        c         o r             B u             r o          r r              s i                o n      

Cody Roth trusts the seaside bolts on the first ascent of Presidente de la Sol  (5.13), Parque Nacional Los Haitises, Dominican Republic.

Two climbers headed up a two-pitch sport route on the Fire Wall, above Tonsai Beach on the Phra Nang Peninsula of Thailand. At the two-bolt anchor, the leader pulled up slack to belay his partner, and as an afterthought, he reached up to clip the first bolt of the next pitch as a redirect to belay his partner.  When the second reached the belay, both climbers leaned out on the anchor to inspect the next pitch. Immediately both anchor bolts broke. The pair swung off their stance and hung suspended, 90 feet off the ground, by the single second-pitch bolt the leader had clipped as a redirect. That bolt didn’t break.  A climber on the Upper Town Wall at Index, Washington, was tackling a seldom-climbed 5.12 route named Calling Wolfgang . After climbing through some gear-protected terrain, he continued past several bolts. Now about 65 feet up, he clipped the third bolt he encountered, intending to hang and clean some holds. A s he leaned back on the bolt, however, it broke. He fell about 15 feet until his weight came onto the bolt below, which also broke. Fortunately, the next bolt held, arresting the climber’s fall only 15 feet off the ground.  What caused these accidents? When new, these anchors could hold thousands of pounds, but now they had failed under body weight. None of the failed bolts looked all that bad, at least at first glance, and one was almost new. The story behind these near-catastrophic  bolt failures is more complicated—and more common—than you might expect.

Free-for-all engineering  You read it all the time: The climber is responsible for his own safety and should evaluate every protection bolt he clips. True in theory, but in practice, most climbers don’t. Unless a bolt is so rusted that it looks like a relic, it’s generally considered good.  Yet bolting sport routes is a completely unregulated practice, carried out mostly by practitioners who are not only untrained, but often are functioning on dangerously tight budgets. Skimping on materials can save $100 or more per route—a week’s living expenses at Miguel’s or Rifle Mountain Park. At the same crag, some anchors  will be “by the book,” while others are creative combinations of bolts, chains, and hangers chosen to save cost, and some are poorly placed due to lack of knowledge. Some anchors are exposed to unusual corrosive forces that have surprised even trained specialists. “The result is a high degree of variability in strength and lifespan of the anchors out there,” says Bill Belcourt, Director of Research and Develop-

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ment at Black Diamond Equipment. “It is apparent there is no standard practice or training for placing bolts, and this is a big problem that is compounding daily as more routes are being de veloped and existing anchors age.” Many feel we have outgrown the “wing-it” phase in our equipping and should become a little more standardized and responsible.  Alan Jarvis of the UIAA Climbing Anchors Working Group, certainly feels that way and compares climbing to other instances  where bolt failures can cause dangerous accidents. “The construction and oil and gas industries use a lot of fasteners, as they call  bolts,” says Jarvis. “The engineers specify what anchors to use and plan for a defined lifetime. Fifty years is considered normal. On  big projects they have a quality-control system in place to inspect critical anchors after installation, as well as during their lifespan.” “In climbing, however, quite often the person who decides on the anchor doesn’t know that much about materials or corrosion. They are not materials specialists. They are not certified or specially trained, as welders on pipelines, etc., are. Nobody inspects the bolts after or during installation, or during their lifetime. And there is no pre-determined lifetime, or replacement program.” Now, just over 20 years since bolt-protected climbing took hold in the U.S., the first-generation routes in most parts of the country have become unsafe. Many crags have already begun re-equipping, and the hardware is well into its second round of  wear. In remote locations lie classic routes that are unclimbable due to inadequate hardware. It doesn’t have to be this way. Should climbers be inspecting the bolts they clip? Of course. But how? Can you tell by looking at a bolt if it’s safe? Perhaps more importantly, how can a route developer or anchor-replacement volunteer choose a bolt that will be good for 50 years?

Metal-urgency It’s easy to spot a very rusty bolt, but the most dangerous kinds of corrosion are less obvious. Inexpensive carbon-steel bolts rust predictably—quickly or slowly depending on the environment— and get weaker and weaker as the steel gradually flakes away as rust. On the other hand, corrosion-resistant hardware such as stainless steel, doesn’t rust as noticeably. But it can be attacked in other ways—sometimes rapidly. Most anchor hardware is made of steel, which mainly consists of iron, plus a mix of other things. Iron rusts when it reacts  with oxygen. Water speeds up the process, too: Oxygen in dry air tends to stay in the air, while oxygen plus water plus iron equals rust.

Saltwater accelerates rust even more. Dissolved salts become positive and negative ions, so they make saltwater a much better conductor of elect ricity than freshwater, which speeds up the chemical reactions of corrosion. Heat also increases the speed of corrosion. All else being equal, climbing bolts will rust faster in  Alabama than in New Hampshire. Acids—even mild ones such as acid rain near industrial areas—will significantly increase corrosion. Groundwater affected by decaying vegetation becomes acidic, like vinegar, and will rust bolts faster—sometimes much faster. There are many kinds of steel, but the simplest ones are over 95 percent iron, plus a small percentage of carbon. Pure iron is actually softer than aluminum, and carbon gives “carbon steel” its strength and hardness. Of the hundreds of kinds of steel, some are designed to hold a sharp cutting edge, some to be malleable, others made to flex and spring back into shape. You can completely alter the properties of steel by changing the carbon content, heating and then cooling it in a certain way, or by mixing it with other metals. Steel is amazingly versatile, but its main drawback is and always has been its susceptibility to rust. It’s the only metal that corrodes so badly in typical environmental conditions. The main reason is that rusts—iron oxides—have the unusual property of being soft and powdery. They flake off, taking the metal with them, so the surface just dissolves away. Rust is ox ygen-permeable, so the inner metal continues to oxidize. This is unusual for metal oxides, as most others form a hard, resilient

Brittany Griffith climbs in Playa Fronton, Dominican Republic, an area very affected by the rapid degradation of metal hardware.

film on the surface that protects the base metal from corrosion. Fortunately, by mixing other metals into the steel, you can create alloys that will form a much more protective surface layer. The best-known steels of this type are “stainless” steels, a large family of over 100 alloys that share the characteristic of containing at least 10.5 percent chromium. Somewhat counterintuitively, chromium makes steel “stainless” because it is even more reactive with oxygen than iron. But instead of forming a flakey rust, stainless steel develops a thin surface layer of chromium oxide that keeps the steel from rusting. It’s self-healing—if you scratch or gouge the steel, new chromium oxide forms to protect it. Chromium makes steel brittle, however, so most stainless also contains nickel, which counteracts chromium’s brittleness and adds its own corrosion resistance. Nickel is also what makes stainless significantly more expensive than carbon steel. There are many grades of stainless, but the most common one for climbing-anchor hardware in the U.S. is SAE 304, sometimes called 18/8 because it contains 18 percent chromium and 8 percent nickel. “Marine-grade” or SAE 316 stainless is similar, but in addition contains 2 percent molybdenum, a pricey metal that makes 316 more resistant to the crevice and pitting types of corrosion that can plague stainless steel in “aggressive” (highly corrosive) environments. In the U.S., 316 stainless costs 35 to 40 percent more than 304, but in Europe, where 316 is favored, the cost difference is less. Many European-made stainless hangers, including those donated by Petzl to Climbing’s  Anchor Replacement Initiative program (climbing.com/ari), are 316. There are other steels with significantly more corrosion resistance than 304 and 316. Some are prohibitively expensive, but some could be viable for climbing anchors. One such group are the so-called HCR (high corrosion resistance) steels, which contain more molybdenum and nickel, and their molecular structure is enhanced by other elements such as nitrogen. One widely used HCR steel is 254 SMO. With 6 percent molybdenum and 18 percent nickel, 254 SMO is significantly more expensive than 316, but it is very resistant to the special kinds of corrosion— pitting, crevice corrosion, and SCC—that can plague climbing anchors in aggressive environments. In the construction industry in Europe, outdoor safety–critical steel anchors must be either 316 or HCR; the less expensive 304 is not considered adequately corrosion-resistant. Nickel and molybdenum make stainless steels expensive, and there is a cheaper way to keep steel from rusting: plate it with zinc, a process sometimes called galvanizing. This can be done either by dipping the steel in molten zinc, or, more appropriate for climbing-anchor hardware, applying the zinc through an electrical process. Zinc costs about the same as aluminum (one-eighth as much as nickel), and electroplat-

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ing requires little zinc anyway. Like the chromium in stainless steel, zinc oxidizes readily, forming a protective layer that keeps oxygen away from the iron. Stainless steel has its corrosion resistance built in,  but plated steel doesn’t: Zinc-plated steel will slowly lose its zinc to oxidation. In wet climates, it doesn’t take long for the zinc to be used up. No zinc, no corrosion-resistant veneer. Most of the carbon-steel bolts still used at U.S. climbing areas—the Rawl/Powers “5-piece” sleeve  bolts, for example—are zinc-electroplated. Platedsteel bolt hangers are significantly less expensive than stainless and are widely used in the western U.S. Of course, no discussion of corrosion-resistant metals would be complete without mentioning titanium, “metal of the Titans.” Titanium is pricey, but not obscenely so, and has a higher strength-to-weight ratio than steel, as well as excellent corrosion-, fatigue-,

or negative pole of an electric couple. If the potential of two ad jacent metals isn’t the same, a small current, carried by electrons, flows between them. Seeking a sort of equilibrium, the metal donating the negatively charged electrons will also begin to lose positively charged metal ions, causing the metal to dissolve. Galvanic corrosion won’t occur in dry conditions or in distilled  water; to “complete the circuit” you need an electrolyte such as saltwater. In climbing anchors, any mineralized water trapped between a bolt and its hanger will function as the electrolyte.  Various combinations of mild steel, zinc-plate, aluminum, and stainless can experience galvanic corrosion. Installing a stainless hanger on a carbon-steel bolt will compromise the bolt itself, while a zinc-plated hanger on a stainless bolt will compromise the hanger. Crevice corrosion is also relevant to climbing anchors. It is caused by the concentration of corrosive minerals, especially chlorides. Crevices in or around the metal tend to trap mineralized moisture. If the crevice periodically dries out, it can concentrate dissolved chlorides and create a microenvironment so

From the sea stacks of Scotland (images one, two, and four) to the beaches of the Dominican Republic (image three), saltwater accelerates the rusting of all types of metals, including aluminum and various kinds of steel.

and crack-resistance. Titanium bolts are becoming the standard at tropical climbing areas, and the first UIAA-certified titanium anchor is now on the market.

Currents, crevices, and cracks—special types of corrosion Not all corrosion is as gradual or easy to detect as rust. One equipping mistake that speeds up corrosion is to mix two kinds of metal in the same anchor—a stainless steel hanger on a carbon-steel bolt, for example. Such setups may suffer from “galvanic corrosion.”  As the name implies, galvanic corrosion involves an electric current. Metals each have their own “electrode potentials”—the potential to become either a positive

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aggressive that it can overwhelm the oxides on stainless steel. It’s commonly believed that only crags near the ocean are at risk for aggressive corrosion because of the chlorides carried by seawater. In fact, chlorides are also carried by rain and especially groundwater. The initial amounts may be small, but evaporation can concentrate chlorides within crevices. Climbing anchors are rife with crevices, including the threads, sleeves, and wedging collars, behind washers, and where the hanger bears on the bolt stud. Bolt holes themselves create crevice-like conditions quite unlike those on the rock surface. Water soaks into sandstone, percolates through limestone, and even in dry climates like Colorado, the shafts of rock climbing bolts typically live out their years in a state of dampness. If they dry out completely once in a while, that’s actually worse, since it serves to concentrate corrosive salts. This highlights advantages to gluein bolts: 1) they have no crevices, and 2) the epoxy protects the metal from the corrosive microenvironment inside a bolt hole.

Crevice corrosion affects all steels, but it is particularly disturbing in stainless steel. A stainless steel bolt/hanger combination  will almost never show surface rust. The bolt may look fine, yet  be badly corroded in critical, invisible areas such as the threads. Pitting is another special kind of corrosion. This one you often can see, since it takes place on exposed surfaces such as the face of a bolt hanger. It is essentially a microscopic version of crevice corrosion. Stainless steel’s chromium oxide layer contains minute flaws that can become tiny pits. Once a pit starts, it can create its own microenvironment with an aggressive chemistry t hat allows corrosion to proceed. Pitting is still an active field of study among metallurgists, but it is definitely linked to mineral inclusions. Sulfur, for example, is often purposely added to stainless steel to make it easier to machine (SAE 303 is one example—avoid it!). Sulfur inclusions, however, when exposed on the surface of the steel, create a break in the chromium oxide layer where pitting can begin. One final kind of corrosion of real consequence to climbers is

ated with industrial sites such as boilers and desalination plants. High heat, lots of salts. Yet SCC was later found to occur at much lower temperatures—around indoor swimming pools, for example. SCC is only associated with very high concentrations of chlorides. Unfortunately, both the geology of certain cliffs and the microenvironments within bolt holes can help create the aggressive conditions needed for SCC to occur. It can make the face of a stainless steel bolt hanger look like shattered glass.

stress corrosion cracking. “SCC” is technically more than just corrosion. It’s a double-whammy interaction between chemical corrosion and mechanical stress. In the wrong conditions, SCC can rapidly destroy stainless steel climbing hardware. SCC is a devious, hard-to-predict process with a history of making catastrophic surprise appearances. Beginning in the early 1990s, it has been responsible for an epidemic of climbing-anchor failures at tropical crags worldwide. If a metal is susceptible—and stainless steel is—several factors must be present for SCC to occur. One is stress within the metal. This is universal in climbing anchors. Mechanical bolts are put under tension when they are tightened. The bolt/hanger metal retains internal stresses from the “cold-working” processes of manufacturing—punching the hole and putting in the bend, for example. The last necessary ingredient for SCC is an aggressive environment. Here’s where prediction gets complicated, because the microenvironments within and around a climbing anchor can become aggressive in many subtle ways. SCC was originally associ-

This was just one of many stories climber Sam Lightner recalls from the early days—the mid to late 1990s—of chronic anchor failures in the tropical climbing paradise of Thailand. “It was a strange thing,” says Lightner. “Some walls seemed OK, and some were eating the steel fast. We now realize it had to do with temperature. The walls that face the sun for a good bit of the day get incredibly hot, increasing the speed of the chemical reaction. Some of the  walls that never saw the sun took many years to visibly show the problem.” Climbing-anchor SCC was also later discovered to involve factors that had never been documented by materials specialists. The mechanism was discussed in detail in a 2008 paper by climber and metallurgist  Angele Sjong, published in the widely read Journal of Failure Analysis and Prevention.  At that time, Sjong (wife of the well-known climbing athlete and coach Justen Sjong) worked at the re-

The incidents analyzed If you hadn’t guessed already, the incident in Thailand relayed at the beginning of this story was a case of SCC. One of the anchors that broke was a ½-inch stainless steel bolt that had been placed only 18 months before.

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nowned engineering consulting firm Exponent, in the steel make a very active galvanic couple. With almost 70 inches California Bay Area. Though she had never been to of rain per year, Index is wet enough to keep the galvanic “batThailand, she had heard from climbing friends about tery” going, dissolving enough aluminum near the hanger/bolt the terrible corrosion problems there. When Greg attachment point that the hanger sheared off under body weight. Barnes of the American Safe Climbing Association But there is also a social factor. The route was established  brought her a broken bolt hanger, she around 1990, amid the “first generation” of sportagreed to do a quick analysis. style bolting that swept across the U.S. During those  When Sjong looked at the specimen Lycra-clad days, bolting wisdom was all over the Learn how deunder the scope, she couldn’t believe map, and with angry trad climbers often ready to  velopers in the the severity of the corrosion. “It was a chop the routes, the whole concept of bolt longevity tropical climbcrowded day in the lab,” she says, “and  was basically off the radar. The equippers were funcing paradise of I said, ‘Hey, check this out!’ Everyone tioning at the normal standard of the day: Routes  was stunned.” Exponent is one of the  were equipped with random hardware that was Cayman Brac most respected failure-analysis firms either imported, purchased at the local hardware have worked in the world, but none of the experts store, or homemade—sometimes all of the above— successfully to had seen ambient-temperature SCC and mixed and mismatched. like this. One senior analyst said, “We overcome anshould look into this.” Sjong launched a chor corrosion literature review and a battery of tests at climbing. that culminated in the journal paper.  An improvisational, skimp-and-save philosophy lin. com/bracwin gers to this day, and there is still a dangerously lean The incident at Index could be  blamed on several factors. From a maknowledge base about climbing-anchor longevity. Even among knowledgeable route developers dediterials perspective, galvanic corrosion  was responsible for the incident: The route featured cated to “best practices,” there is still plenty of disagreement. Is stainless steel necessary in drier environments such as Lander, aluminum hangers on steel bolts, which had been in place for almost 20 years at the time of the incident.  Wyoming, or Indian Creek, Utah? Coastal climbing areas obviously need corrosion-resistant hardware, but how resistant: Is tita Aluminum hangers are still available—Petzl makes nium necessary for non-tropical areas such as Kalymnos, Greece, some—and are favored for deep cave exploration for or Mickey’s Beach, California? Open questions, all of them. their strength and light weight, but aluminum and

The human side

James Garrett gets high off the ground on the Original Route  (5.10b/E1 5b), Old Man of Hoy, Scotland, where plenty of fully rusted hardware can be found (see p. 60 and 61).

In November 2012, the Access Fund held a conference in Red Rock, Nevada, called the Future of Fixed Anchors. One reason  was the amount of time and money now going into re-bolting efforts. “The old bolts from the beginning of the sport climbing era are in need of replacement,” says Brady Robinson, the AF’s Executive Director. “Some people are doing a great job replacing them, and others are, frankly, botching it.” Kenny Parker is chairman of the Anchor Committee for the New River Alliance of Climbers (NRAC) in West Virginia, one of the earliest and most effective anchor-replacement effort s in the country. Yet Parker claims that money and man-hours haven’t been the biggest hurdles. “Even more than doing the actual work,” says Parker, “the biggest challenge has been pulling together the community around a process and a plan.” In other words, consensus. Parker suggests that the average original sport route in the New River Gorge (annual rainfall about 50 inches) proved to have a life expectancy of about 10 years. In drier areas such as Rifle, Colorado, most routes lasted 10 to 15 years. It’s clear that our original attempts to create sport routes in the U.S. also created a massive maintenance problem just a few years down the road. “In 100 years, I for one don’t want every popular route to have five holes at every clip,” says Robinson, “evidence of generations of climbers’ efforts to upgrade the anchors with the times. We can do better.”  Alan Jarvis of the UIAA agrees. “I think that the most important thing here is to establish a specific lifetime for anchors,” he says, strongly suggesting 50 years as a baseline. “It doesn’t have to be 50 years, but it needs to be specified. Once you agree on a specified working life, then everything else falls into place.”

International standards for corrosion resistance So let’s say you’re an equipper and buy into the concept that re bolting a route every 15 or 20 years doesn’t cut it. How can you know what hardware to use at your area to get a 50-year lifetime? The UIAA is in the process of rolling out guidelines that will help. “Let’s say you’ve heard that Bolt A is more corrosion-resistant than Bolt B,” says Jarvis. “Is it even true? And do you really need that? Who knows? The UIAA is working to have a classification system based on the corrosion resistance of an anchor.” The specific tests will be some version of standard tests used in other industries. Significantly, only complete anchors—one-piece glue-ins or complete bolt/hanger combinations—will be tested.  A bolt or a hanger alone will not be eligible for classification. In a nutshell, here’s what the system will look like: Class 1 anchors will have to endure severe testing conditions and prove themselves extremely resistant to normal corrosion, crevice corrosion, pitting, and stress corrosion cracking. Anchors in this class are what places like Thailand will need. The UIAA safety commission decided on the specific tests for this class during their meeting in Chamonix in June 2013. Class 2 means moderate to high corrosion resistance. “This is likely what other coastal areas need,” says Jarvis, “where there is some risk of SCC, but not as extreme as in tropical areas.” It will  be interesting to see what tests the UIAA comes up with for this class, and what metals will pass, since, despite its susceptibility to SCC, 316 stainless is widely used for anchor replacement in such areas, and there is significant resistance to upgrading to much more expensive alternatives such as titanium.

Class 3 anchors will have “moderate” corrosion resistance. There will be no tests for SCC. Anchors in this class should be suitable for the bulk of climbing areas that have no special corrosion concerns, and it will be the minimum level of corrosion resistance recommended for outdoor climbing. Since this standard is being generated in Europe, it seems very likely that anchors in this category will have to show corrosion resistance equal to 304, and possibly 316 stainless. If so, this requirement is sure to cause some controversy in the U.S. Class 4 anchors will have no specified corrosion resistance and be aimed at indoor use. Manufacturers will not give any specific lifespan  warranty after these tests. Rather, it is a tool for consumers. “If one matches the right anchor class with a given climbing environment,” says Jarvis, “then a 50 year (or more) lifetime should be achievable.”

The future  We are nearing the end of seat-of-the-pants bolting. If the UIAA stays on course, it will soon have standards for climbing anchors that—barring placement errors or mismatches between hardware type and environment—should allow us to choose anchors that will last 50 years. The Access Fund is currently assembling a web page of “best practices” for anchor placement. The question is, how quickly will bolters upgrade their habits? “Land managers are beginning to move toward telling climbers how to place or replace bolts, and which kinds to use,” says Robinson. “If we don’t have any consensus in our community and without hard science to  back up our actions, how are we going to prevent bureaucrats from dictating bolting practices?” Historically, cost has been a very important criterion for choosing climbing anchors. That will probably never change. But actually, it doesn’t need to.  Anchors made from corrosion-resistant metals cost more up front, but if they last three times as long as cheaper anchors, in 50 years the climbing community  will have saved money—and a lot of re-bolting effort. That logic works well for community-funded re bolting efforts, but not so well for first ascensionists,  who, in the U.S. at least, almost always buy bolts with their own money. Spending to ensure 50 years of ser vice can seriously slow down their effort. “The Access Fund can’t just step in and tell people  what to do,” says Robinson. “The hope is that longlived bolts, and bolts that can be replaced without drilling new holes, will become more and more common. Great technologies are here or are on the horizon, but it only helps us if people use them.”  Special thanks to Greg Barnes, Bill Belcourt, John  Byrnes, Steve Gladieux, Alan Jarvis, Sam Lightner,  Josh Lyons of the Thai-tanium Project, Kenny Parker,  Martin Roberts of Titan Climbing, Brady Robinson, and Angele Sjong for technical and factual assistance.

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 It’s  Always  Sunny  In… BEAT THE FOURTH SEASON’S FRIGID TEMPS WITH THESE 6 WINTER-FRIENDLY AREAS BY AMANDA FOX

Rob Pizem samples Baby Ruth in the Pool  (5.13-), in The Narrows, Zion National Park, Utah.

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Spring is so close, yet so far. You’ve spent session after session in the gym, getting strong. But you’re tired of waiting in line for the steep wall, wafting in that special gym-shoe aroma. So now what? Head outside! That’s right—you can enjoy sunshine and mild temps, even in the grips of the fourth season. Here are our favorite crags with near-guaranteed T-shirt  weather, sunny days, and fun winter rock climbing.

Guernsey State Park, Wyoming  FIND SUN-DRENCHED, DESERT-LIKE CLIMBING IN THE COWBOY STATE ÆClimbing in Wyoming oen evokes

images of the imposing Tetons, the looming Devils Tower, or the streaked limestone of Ten Sleep. But if you don’t want to climb ice up big mountains or be blown off the rock by high winds, head to Guernsey State Park instead. Located about an hour and a half northeast of Laramie, Guernsey’s one-pitch sport climbs offer sunshine and warmth when temps and conditions elsewhere warrant staying inside and drinking whiskey, because some of the area’s best walls face south and receive all-day sun. The rock, red orthoquartzite and gray dolomite, looks like it was plucked out of Utah. The surface has great friction and lends itself to pockets, roofs, and even intermittent cracks; most everything is wellbolted. The majority of climbing falls in the 5.10 range, but there are plenty of warm-ups, and even a few 5.12s awaiting the redpointer. On a windless, sunny day, the temperatures near the wall have measured up to 20 degrees warmer than the ambient temps. Why? Local Guernsey expert Dennis Horning reckons that warm air gets trapped below the dam, which is where the best climbing is: The Red and White Grotto walls have more than 80 routes. If it’s windy at the parking lot, head to the Hot Cinnamon Wall, which gets the sun earliest. “It’s usually not windy at all there,” Horning says. For a warm-up, hop on Deep Cuts (5.8-) or Sunrise Iron Girl   (5.9) at the Red Clove and Hot Cinnamon walls, respectively. The 5.10 leaders will find Fizzle of Zach Attack  (5.10a) en joyable, while harder leaders can test their mett le on Pull Down Resistor  (5.11c) followed by Inversion Therapy   (5.12a). For steep climbing, head to the Maroon Towers Wall, where there are about 20 steeper, unnamed but established routes.

Climbing can be had year-round, but stick to the north-facing walls in the summer and the south-facing walls in the winter. G E T T H E R E : Take I-25 north from Cheyenne to exit 92. Head east on Highway 26 for about 15 miles, and then turn le on State Highway 317/Lakeside Drive for one mile to the park. It’s $4/day for residents, $6/day for non-residents. Annual passes range from $33 to $53. See mountainproject.com  for specific crag approaches. S T A Y T H E R E : There are multiple campgrounds throughout the park, from tent sites to yurts, with first-come, firstserved sites and reservable sites (wyoparks.state.wy.us ); $10/night for residents, $17/night for non-residents. Or call 307-836-2334 to rent a yurt at $50/night. G U I D E B O O K : Mountainproject.com  has detailed and updated info.

Chattanooga, Tennessee FOLLOW THE BIRDS SOUTH TO A LAND OF ROCKS ÆChattanooga’s got it

all: mild weather (average high in the mid-60s in March), a happening downtown, and a lifetime of rock climbing. High-quality sandstone is great for everything from traditional crack climbs at Tennessee Wall, to overhanging jug hauls at Foster Falls, to the myriad boulders at Stone Fort. Why go anywhere else? Tennessee Wall faces south to bask in t he sun all day (don’t venture there in the summer). Mostly single-pitch crack climbs line the crag. Requisite moderates include the blocky roofs of Art  (5.8) and the hand crack on Golden Locks  (5.8+). If you’re well-versed in hand and finger cracks, Cake Walk (5.10a) lives up to its namesake. Fly with the Falcon (5.11b) has everything in a mere 80 feet: a bouldery start, a roof, and a crack that requires some powerful moves. Foster Falls is a popular sport arena, with a wide range of climbs. Hop on the neighboring routes Ankles Away   and Twist and Shout  (both 5.9+) to warm up for the varied Something’s Always Wrong (5.10d). The sustained Wristlets (5.11c/d) will test your crimping and lockoff skills. The Le and Right bunkers contain steep, powerful routes like Ethnic Cleansing  (5.12a) and Darkie the Bum Beast  (5.12d). Pack your bouldering pad and head a bit north of the city to Stone Fort (aka Little Rock City), located on a golf course. Enjoy everything from palm-slapping slopers to razor-sharp edges. The boulders are all within easy walking distance of each other and the golf clubhouse, whose employees are friendly and accommodating to climbers. (Sign the waiver and pay the $3/day fee there.) Warm up at the Mystery Machine boulder, and then wander throughout the boulderfield to classics like Clarence Bowater Survival  (V3), Dragon Lady  (V4), Celestial Mechanics (V7), and Robbing the Tooth Fairy  (V9). Stone Fort is also home to a leg of the Triple Crown Bouldering Series (triplecrownboul-  dering.org ), which has another stop at Horse Pens 40 in Alabama, an hour, 45 minutes south.

SEASON:

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Climbing is possible year-round, but the heat and humidity is sweltering in the summer. Chase the sun on moderate days in the winter for perfect temps. S T A Y T H E R E :  Check out The Crash Pad, a climber- and traveler-friendly hostel ($28 to $95/night) with free WiFi, breakfast, and coffee (crashpadchattanooga.com ). G U I D E B O O K : Chris Watford’s Dixie Cragger’s Atlas  covers the entire area. Grab Volume 1 for Tennessee Wall and Volume 2 for Foster Falls. Get both for $45 at dixiecragger.com . Stone Fort Bouldering , by Andy Wellman, is available at greenergrasspublishing.com  for $26. SEASON:

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 Zion National Park, Utah GET DOWN ON WARM DESERT SANDSTONE ÆZion is sometimes referred to

as the sandstone Yosemite. Hundreds of long aid and free climbs soar up to 2,000 feet tall, with most in the 800to 1,500-foot range. Many Utah natives say February and March are the perfect months to climb in Zion; if the forecast is sunny and snow- and wind-free, you could be climbing in a T-shirt. The 2,500-foot Mt. Kinesava faces southwest and has multiple worldclass free and aid lines up to 5.12. A crowd favorite is the 1,200-foot-long Cowboy Ridge (5.7) that leads to the summit ridge. With a mix of hiking and fourth- and fih-class scrambling, the only technical pitch is the money spot: an exposed splitter hand crack. The toasty Leaning Wall holds one of Zion’s most classic routes, Space Shot (IV 5.6 C2 or 5.13), as well as bold 5.10s, like the runout but worthy Vernal Equinox   (5.10). For sunny aernoon cragging potential, head to the Confluence area for a plethora of moderates in the one- to two-pitch range. Try Barely Legal  (5.7) for a fun bolted face climb, or test your finger-crack prowess on the steep Crimson King (5.11). For more one-pitch crack climbs, t he southwest face

of the Great White Throne is a solid bet. For a wider adventure, grab your No. 4 and 5 cams and jump on Grasshopper (5.9), or work up the le-facing corner of Birthday Corner   (5.11).

September through April offer the best climbing conditions, though winters can be frigid in the shade. The guidebook recommends climbing where the high is at least 50°F in the sun on big walls, and 40°F on shorter routes. It’s scorching in the summer. Some areas, like Mt. Kinesava, are closed from March to September for peregrine falcon nesting. Check nps.gov/zion  for closures. G E T T H E R E : From the north, travel south on I-15 and take exit 27. Go west on UT-17 for about six miles, and then turn le onto UT-9 for about 21 miles. Follow the signs to the park. A seven-day pass is $25. S T A Y T H E R E : Stay in either the South or Watchman campgrounds inside the canyon; $16 to $18/night. Watchman takes reservations from late March through October (877-444-6777); South is first-come, first-served. G U I D E B O O K : Zion Climb-  ing: Free and Clean , by Bryan Bird ($30, supertopo.com ) SEASON:

The view from Angel’s Landing in Zion National Park, Utah, reveals a distinct split between where climbers can find comfort in the sun or shiver in the shade.

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 Hueco Tanks, Texas IT’S NOT ALL ABOUT THE BOULDERING ÆHueco

Tanks is known for its unbeatable bouldering. But what many people overlook are the more than 70 classic single- and multi-pitch routes lining the Front Side of North Mountain. The Front Side faces west, but temperatures for February and March reach into the mid- to high 60s, and precipitation is very low. The rough granite provides great friction, but bring some tape—just like on the boulders, those famed huecos and incut holds show up on t hese routes, and many have sharp edges. Routes rise up to 250 feet, and most have bolts, although you’ll want to carry a standard trad rack as well, unless you want to run it out. The Lunch Rock wall has excellent easy climbs up to 100 feet, like Lunch Rock Direct  (5.7), which follows a finger and hand crack to a roof. The 250-foot “incredibly climbable” Cakewalk Wall offers a few taller options, with “infinite route possibilities,” writes John Sherman in Hueco Tanks Climbing and Bouldering Guide . Sons of Cakewalk  (5.6) climbs on good holds to a couple of cracks, and Return of Cakewalk  (5.7) features a huge hueco and fun climbing on smaller holds. Don’t miss True Grip  (5.10a) at the Perverted Sanctuary, where a so-so first pitch leads to a much better second pitch: an exposed and steep headwall with large pockets. Move over to the Central Wall and Indecent Exposure Buttress for long, steep routes. Warm up on the sporty Malice in Bucketland  (5.9-), which follows huge huecos to a rounded arête, and then head to the sustained and incut Brain Dead  (5.10+). Test your wits on the R-rated, three-pitch Rainbow Bridge   (5.11b), which has everything from dihedrals to flakes to face climbing. You don’t need a guide to access the Front Side on North Mountain, but only about 70 people at a time are allowed to climb here. (Only 230 people at a time are allowed to climb in the park.) Reservations are highly recommended; call 512-389-8900 to save your spot.

Way too hot in the summer. It does get cold and windy at night in the winter, so pack warm clothes accordingly. It’s not uncommon to see a 40-degree swing in temps from day to night. G E T T H E R E : Take Highway 62/180 east out of El Paso, and then turn north on Ranch Road 2775. S T A Y T H E R E : Camping in the park ranges from $12 to $16/night (800-792-1112). Or check out the Hueco Rock Ranch, owned by the American Alpine Club. Rates range from $5 tent sites to $35 for a private room for AAC members. Reservations aren’t required but are recommended, especially in the winter months (915-856-7181). G U I D E B O O K : Hueco Tanks Climbing and Bouldering Guide, Second Edition , by John Sherman ($30, falcon.com ) SEASON:

Caitlin Flanagan samples Hueco Tanks’ famous incut holds on the 140-foot Pigs to Pork   (5.10+).

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Queen Creek Canyon,  Arizona PULL ON POCKETS IN THE GRAND CANYON STATE ÆPockets, pockets, pockets! The area’s dacite, a volcanic rock, offers just

about every size and depth of solution hole on sport climbs that line vertical walls, overhangs, and even roofs. The state’s sunny, dry climate offers perfect winter conditions; the best months are October through May. Start at the popular Pond, which faces south and has a host of routes up to 5.13a. The Casting Couch (5.9) and Area Horizon (5.10a) are local favorites, while projectors will want to focus on routes like Mona Lisa  (5.11b) and Desert Devil (5.13a). (In the summer, cool off with a jump in the pond, but only if the falls are flowing.) If it’s too crowded at the Pond, reverse course and head to Lower Devil’s Canyon, where Phoenix local Manny Rangel says there’s been a resurgence of new routes. You might be the only climbers there due to the four-wheeldrive approach—or you can hike several miles instead. But it’s worth it: Numerous pinnacles beckon. Don’t miss the iconic Totem Pole (5.10c/d) on a tall, skinny tower with an even skinnier summit. If you’ve got your trad rack, head to Lower Devil’s East, with a multitude of quality routes on more spires. Crack climbers should try out Accelerated Climbology (5.9); for a cool arête, hop on the first pitch of High Man on the Shmotem Pole (5.11-; the second pitch is still a project). Many new routes have gone up in the last few years at the Refuge, with more than 80 climbs to enjoy; download the mini-guide at geir.com/refugemini.pdf .

If you’re itching for boulders, you’re in luck. Queen Creek was once the site of the huge Phoenix Bouldering Competition, with hundreds of problems to play on at Oak Flats. The sharp and unforgiving rock can be hell on your fingers, so bring plenty of tape and skin balm. Start on the short lines at the Warm-up Boulders before moving to the Tetons, with incut edges on challenging lines. Or keep walking to Waterfall Canyon for big pockets on bulgy faces. The impressive Shark Wall offers huge huecos on overhanging faces, and if you’ve got skin to waste, finish up at th e Bermuda Triangle.

Year-round, but very hot in the summer. February and March offer warm weather in the mid-60s and 70s but occasional rain. G E T T H E R E : About an hour from Phoenix just outside Superior, Arizona. Travel east on Highway 60 from Superior up a hill and through a tunnel. Two miles past the tunnel is Magma Mine Road, which leads to the Oak Flats Campground and a few climbing areas. S T A Y T H E R E : Oak Flats Campground is free and first-come, first-served with vault toilets, but no water or trash service. G U I D E B O O K : Beg, borrow, or steal a copy of the Rock Jock’s Guide to Queen Creek Canyon, Superior, Arizona , by Marty Karabin, which is no longer in print. Mountain-  project.com has great info as well. SEASON:

Pack your T-shirts and sunscreen for the warm temps and sunny days of Queen Creek Canyon, Arizona.

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David Kappel samples one of many crack climbs on the round, smooth granite boulders of Mt. Woodson.

 San Diego, California HIT THE BEACH—AND QUALITY GRANITE ÆLooking for fun climbing in California that doesn’t involve the crowds of

Bishop and Joshua Tree? Somewhat ironically, you’ll find what you’re aer  just outside of San Diego, where a plethora of granite bouldering, sport, and trad areas await. The climate doesn’t vary much throughout the year, with temps remaining comfortably in the 60s and 70s even in the winter months. For varied and high-quality bouldering and toproping, try Mt. Woodson, located about 30 minutes northeast of t he city. Hundreds of fine-grained granite boulders lay scattered in the green hills. The smooth, round rocks lend themselves to steep face climbing and cracks. An uphill hike on an easy trail (anywhere from 10 to 45 minutes to the summit) gets you to the climbs, but the views of the Pacific, the city, and Mexico are well worth the effort. Plus, boulder problems can be found all along the path, even up to the top. Some of the taller boulders can be set up as lead climbs; bring a light trad rack. Don’t miss the huge, triangular Uncertainty Principle boulder, seen from the road, with its popular namesake route going at 5.11c. The Poison Oak area has many problems and routes ranging from V1 to 5.13a. And 5.11 climbers will love the accessible Cave area, where the best routes include Bat Flake   (5.10d), Starface  (5.11a/b), and The Cave   (5.11a).

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Just southeast of Mt. Woodson are the scenic Poway Crags, with short and steep granite routes on Iron Mountain that are mostly bolted; they might require extra pro, so bring a small rack. Visit here when the weather is cool, as the cliffs are south- and east-facing and receive sun much of the day. There are very few warm-ups here; the powerful nature of the routes beckons to those comfortable leading 5.10 and up. Head to the Sport Wall for a dense concentration of 5.10 and 5.11 lines, like Suspended Evolution  (5.10d). For longer routes, visit the Godzilla Buttress and hop on its best route Godzilla  (5.10b). Don’t forget your helmet; there is loose rock.

Some crags, like Ramona Wall at Poway, have raptor closures from December to August. Check mountainproject.com  for updates. S T A Y T H E R E : Dos Picos County Park is close to both Mt. Woodson and the Poway Crags in Ramona. Tent sites are $24/night, and amenities include showers, horseshoe rings, and picnic tables. G U I D E B O O K : A few out-ofprint guides exist online, or find topo maps at climbingtoposofsandiego .com ; mountainproject.com  has the most updated info. SEASON:

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IN SESSION

GUIDE’S TIP 

RIPPED FROM  THE HEADLINES 

TRAINING 

BEGIN HERE 

IN SESSION 

RELAXING BREATH By Dave Sheldon

UTILIZE THIS BREATHING TECHNIQUE TO IMPROVE ON-ROUTE PERFORMANCE It’s strangely easy to forget about something you do 20,000 times a day, but taking a minute to focus on maximizing your oxygen intake while climbing can offer a considerable performance boost. Coach and worldrenowned climber Justen Sjong has developed a breathing style that supports a relaxed body and mind, even when you’re climbing at your physical limit. Keeping your breath soft and natural (not labored or forceful) positively affects your movement and stress level, helping you to climb effi ciently and thought fully, and leaving you more energy and strength for cruxes. “If your  body is getting more oxygen, you  will maintain mental clarity to read the rock and move over it in the most effective way possible, plus it maximizes resting,” Sjong says. Practice the following methods as much as you can so they become second nature on the rock, and you will find your performance across all climbing disciplines improves.

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Scout out a quiet place at the crag. Stand with your hands by  your sides, loosen the muscles in your face, slightly purse your lips, and slowly inhale through  your mouth. Hold the inhale for

a split second, and then exhale through your mouth, maintaining a soft face and pursed lips. On the exhale, hear and feel the air leaving your lungs and let  your whole body decompress (shoulders loosen, face and eyes soften even more, core eases, mind quiets, etc.). Repeat this inhale-exhale cycle three or four times. Each subsequent breath should take a deeper layer of stress out of the body until you reach total composure—both physical and mental. The goal is to find your “relaxing breath,” or a moment when you feel completely at ease and comfortable, and your mind is clear.  A skilled practitioner can grab a juggy hold and drop into a deep state of rest on his first breath. He can also master his coordination and weight distribution to the point where a relaxing breath can be found in the middle of a challenging sequence while gripping two small holds. When faced  with difficult movement, we tend to tense up, breathe quickly, and overgrip, and this not only unnecessarily exhausts you, but it also stops your brain from thinking clearly. If you can reach this relaxed breath, you will maintain a clear mind to make productive movements.  After becoming comfortable  with finding your relaxing breath solo, choose a route or boulder problem you have wired and consider easy. This is important  because you don’t want to be distracted by falling, route-finding, clipping, etc. While completing these first few levels, your only goal should be to work with  breath. It’s also crucial to master a step before graduating yourself onto the next level.

 bouldering, wait until you have  jumped back to the ground or are standing on top of the problem. This step must be added to all of the following levels.

STEP 2  Breathe whi le moving over rock. Start as for the previous step,  but every few moves, stop and find your breath. Body position is important as the resting arm or arms need to be straight and relaxed. Your legs should be  wherever is necessary to keep arms using minimal energy,  whether they are directly below  you or out to the side. Keep your core soft. Look down and to the side with a soft gaze; find something neutral to look at. Don’t look up or down at the route.

here: finding your breath in the middle of hard sequences. The goal is to stop—regardless of how small the holds are, take one relaxing breath, and move on. This mini-break releases the mind from the haze of effort, and the ensuing clarity allows  you to focus intensely on the next move or series of moves.

STEP 6 Use this relaxing breath in your everyday life. Most people respond to the stress in their daily lives just like they respond to the stress of climbing: shallow breathing, sweating, foggy thinking, and a wave of heat going over you. This breathing practice can reduce stress and focus your mind in daily life, too.

STEP 3  Increase climbing diffi culty; re-find your breath on-route. Time to bump up the stress level. Go from toprope to lead, or an easy route to a hard one— one near the upper end of your comfort zone. Any line you won’t fall off unless you really screw up is ideal. Repeat step 2.

STEP 4

STEP 1

 Push harder a nd find your breath at every rest. Choose something closer to  your max and find your breath at any place you can stop and shake out. Feel how it affects resting and decision-making  while onsighting. When you really start to breathe correctly, on-route recovery will be faster, holds will be easier to see, and reading sequences will come more naturally. Once you can consistently do this, cut yourself loose on projects.

 Breathe bef ore and aft er every climb so it’s habit.  After getting fully geared up and tied in, stand at the base and find your breath. Climb to the top. While being lowered, go back and find your breath. If

 Slow down, find compos ure, and take a relaxing breath when really cranking.  The real mastery can be found

STEP 5

JUSTEN SJONG  Juste n Sjo ng c oache s in  Boulde r, Colora do, a nd off ers nationwide clinics with his training company Team of 2 ( teamof2climbing.com ). He’s  freed lines on El Capit an li ke Magic Mushroom (5.14a) and  preMuir (5.13d).

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CLINICS 

GUIDE’S TIP 

AUTO-BLOCKING MUNTER By Lindsay Mann

ASK A GUIDE What are some tips for a per son who is rappelling for the   first time? —Devin

 ADD ONE EXTRA BINER TO A MUNTER HITCH FOR GUIDE MODE

Every climber should be familiar  with the Munter, a simple but  versatile hitch that has many helpful uses. We all know it’s a great replacement if you accidentally drop or forget your belay device, but it’s especially handy in alpine and ski mountaineering environments because it handles a frozen and icy rope better than traditional belay devices. As a matter of fact, the Munter can actually de-ice your rope and make it easier to handle in particularly cold climates. With one simple modification, this hitch can also  become an auto-blocking belay system (commonly called “guide mode”) when belaying a follower directly off the anchor from the top of a pitch. This is a great trick for guides and recreational leaders alike since it requires little gear and can be set up quickly and easily.

1. Always

double-check the anchors that you are rappelling off, especially if you did not build them. They should be solid and redundant; plus, look at the whole length of webbing to make sure it’s not faded or torn. 2. Your hair and clothing should not be close enough to get caught in your belay device. 3. Take your time. Have your partner double-check your setup (both ropes through rappel device, biner clipped to device, ropes, and belay loop, and  biner locked) before you go. 4. Weight your belay device and check your whole setup again  before you remove your personal tether from the anchor. 5. Use a rappel backup— either a prusik or an auto block—in case there is unexpected rockfall or you need to remove your hand to deal with tangles in the rope.

The Setup Build your anchor like you normally would, with a pear-shaped locking biner (it’s possible to use  biners with other shapes, but a pear will allow the rope to run as smoothly as possible) through the master point. (Make sure to lock the biner!) The Munter hitch should be in raise mode, so the hitch itself is flipped over the carabiner on the other side from the climber’s rope. (The Munter is a bi-directional hitch, so it is supposed to flip from one side to the other as you switch from raising to lowering.) Clip your second locking biner onto the load line (or climber’s rope) and the  bight in the hitch closest to the climber’s rope. By including this  biner in the system, the Munter hitch will not be able to flip into lower mode, therefore making it auto-blocking. Test it by pulling on the load

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strand of the rope. If set up correctly, the hitch will lock on itself. Then pull on the brake strand to make sure the rope runs through smoothly. You can also use this system for belaying two followers: Put each follower’s rope on its own biner on the master point, and then use two more biners to set up auto-block mode.

The Drawback Just like with any auto-blocking tube-style device, giving slack to

 your follower can be difficult. The easiest way to do this is to have  your climber simply unweight the rope at a good stance. This is one reason why this technique is ideal for easy fifth-class terrain; the climber is moving at a pace where the belayer can manage the rope and easily go hands-free. This allows the belayer to multitask and prepare for the next pitch while the climber is safely moving up. If applied correctly in the right terrain, it all allows for quick and smooth transitions.

LINDSAY MANN

 As a guide for RMI and Pacific  Alpine Guides, Lindsay Mann leads mountaineering trips on  Mt. Rainier, Denali, and throughout the North Cascades. She also teaches avalanche courses and works as a backcountry ski guide.

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RIPPED FROM THE HEADLINES 

SAFER LOWERING

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By Mike Poborsky

PREVENT ACCIDENTS WITH BEST PRACTICES FOR CLEAR COMMUNICATION

Lowering a climbing partner is one of the most common situations that leads to injuries and rescues in Accidents in North American  Mountaineering , the American Alpine Club’s annual analysis of climbing accidents. During the past few years alone, dozens of people, including well-known climbers such as Dave MacLeod, Shingo Ohkawa, and Phil Powers, have suffered serious injuries when they plummeted to the ground while being lowered off short climbs. The “Know the Ropes” section of the 2013 edition of Accidents looks at common causes of lowering accidents and provides some best practices for preventing them. Miscommunication between climber and belayer was the direct cause of nearly a quarter of all lowering accidents reported over the past 10 years—and likely contributed to others—so here are a fe w factors to evaluate for maximum safety. The three key problems with communication between climber and belayer are 1) environmental (weather, distance between climbers, traffic, etc.), 2) unclear understanding of command language (what do “take,” “in direct,” and “I’m off!” mean to each person?), and 3) unclear understanding of the intentions of the belayer and climber (will the climber lower or rappel?).

Noisy Environment Problems that stem from the specific circumstances include the climber and belayer being unable to see each other  becaus e of the r oute’s pat h and/or the distance between the two; weather conditions like wind, snow, or rain; and extraneous noises, such as a river, traffic, or other climbers shouting commands or chatting nearby.  At nois y or crowde d climbing areas, 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 to lower off, toprope, or rappel, it may be helpful for the belayer to step  back t emporar ily s o he c an see his partner at the anchor and improve communication.  When t he cl imber is rea dy to lower, the belayer should move  back t o the base of the c limb to be in the ideal position for lowering.

Clear Commands

MIKE POBORSKY 

 Mike Poborsky, a n interna tionally certified rock, alpine, and ski guide, is vice president of  Exum Mountain Guides. His complete “Know the Ropes” chapter on lowering is available in the 2013 edition of Accidents in North American Mountaineering , or it can be viewed o nline at publications.americanalpineclub.org.

It’s essential to agree on the terms you’ll be using to communicate when one climber reaches the anchor, especially with a new or unfamiliar partner. What do you mean by “take” or “off” or “in direct?”  Avoid vagu e lan guage 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 t opropi ng, co nsider using the traditional term “up rope” instead of “take” for more tension in the rope, as the former won’t be confused  with “s lack.”

CAUSES OF LOWERING ACCIDENTS

2003 to Present

56%

Rope too short 22%

Miscommunication 12%

Belayer error 10%

 Anchor failur e

Explicit Intentions Before starting up any singlepitch climb, it’s critical that  belaye r and climber both 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 u se to communicate with the belayer? Or will she clip directly to the anchor, go completely off belay, and rappel down the route? Many accidents have resulted when the belayer assumed the climber was going to rappel instead of lower, the belayer forgot that the climber planned to lower, or he misunderstood a command (like “off” or “safe” or “I’m in direct”) as an intention to rappel. Before taking the climber off belay, the belayer must

 be cer tain w hat th e clim ber’s intention is. If you have agreed that the climber will rappel,  wait f or the climber to ye ll “off belay,” and then respond “belay off”—only then should  you r emove the r ope f rom yo ur  belay device .  When you r each the an chor at the top of a climb, don’t just clip the rope into the draws, 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 lower yourself a little while holding onto the “up” rope, until you can get into position to make visual contact with the belayer and assure you’re good to go.

CLIMBING.COM |

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TRAINING 

CLINICS 

STRENGTH FOR ALPINISM By Steve House and Scott Johnston

TRAIN THE RIGHT WAY FOR LONG CLIMBS WITH HEAVY PACKS

 You might train your upper body endlessly for the demands of technical climbing, but getting to intense backcountry objectives demands a base strength in your lower body as well. Legs are the main propulsion you have in the mountains, and their large muscle mass requires special attention. We’ve developed a solid, structured training program that will help you build the necessary strength and endurance to achieve your goals, keeping you healthy and energized when you set off from high camp. This base training period includes two specific exercises that will improve your fatigue resistance, so you can handle more intense climbs—even after you’ve hiked several hours with a  weighty pack. Do hill sprints first because they allow you to build maximum leg strength and power before getting into weighted hill climbs,  which simulate the endurance needed for ascending moderate to steep alpine terrain.

HILL SPRINTS Find a steep (20 to 50 percent incline, steeper is better) hill  with decent footing so you can sprint and are not dodging roots and rocks; stadium stairs are also a great option. A steep incline increases the workload on legs and hips without the impact or increased training

time it would take to achieve the same benefit through running on flat terrain. Although hill sprints would normally fall under the category of power training, which emphasizes speed and explosiveness, they also offer dramatic benefits in pure leg strength. This exercise

is simple, effective, specific, and  best of all, highly portable—especially if you don’t have a gym.

* Do this twice a week until

the last few weeks to increase amount of resting time. * Make sure where you’re sprinting has good, solid foot-

ing; slow, cautious steps will not achieve the desired effect. * Focus on speed of movement and explosiveness on the way up, and then walk back down. * Stop the set when you feel  your power drop. *  Each sprint should be no more than 10 seconds.

Week

Sets

Reps

Duration

Rest per rep

Rest per set

Times per week

 1-2

3

4

8 sec.

2 min.

5 min.

2

 3-4 

2

6

8 sec.

2 min.

5 min.

2

5-6 

2

7

8 sec.

2 min.

5 min.

2

7-8

3

5

8 sec.

2 min.

5 min.

2

 9-10

3

6

8 sec.

2 min.

5 min.

1

 11-12

3

7

8 sec.

2 min.

5 min.

1

IF YOU DON’T HAVE A HILL…  Engage a few friends to push a car back and forth in a parking lot. Put it in neutral, and make sure you have quick access to the  brake. A s you pus h one way, your friend pus hes the ot her, so it’s not really moving that much. Push on the front and rear bumpers so that you can really lean into it and get your big leg muscles involved. Take a few minutes of rest between short pushes of six to 10 seconds and you’ll see amazing results in leg strength. Find a stadium and use the stairs.  Attach a tire to a harnes s with webb ing and biner s and dra g it on a less steep hill or flat ground for up to a minute. Repeat that as you would each sprint. Some gyms may have steel sleds onto which you can stack  weight. You can then push the sled up and down a paved al ley or across a grass sports field.

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STEVE HOUSE

 An IFMGA-certified mountain guide, House has completed many notable climbs throughout the Alaska Range, the Karakorum in  Pakistan, and the Canadian Rockies. He runs Alpine Mentors ( alpinementors.org ) , a nonprofit that promotes alpinism by coaching and encouraging young up-and-coming alpinists.

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This program is an excerpt from the book Training for the New Alpinism: A Manual for the Climber as Athlete by Steve House and Scott Johnston (below), which is available now ( patagonia.com/books ). It als o include s more comp rehensive t raining  programs, c ustomizab le plans, and the me ntal stra tegies us ed by seaso ned alpin ists.

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WEIGHTED HILL CLIMBS The goal of this phase is to increase how long your muscles can operate at a high percentage of max strength, which improves your endurance. Do this after completing 12 weeks of hill sprints, and plan on finishing at least two weeks before your objective. This stuff is going to make your legs very tired, and you will not be at your best until you have a good recovery period. If your performance improves for the first couple of  weeks, but then plateaus and

drops off, you are doing too much and should drop down to one session per week. Jugs of  water are good to carry because  you can pour them out at the top of the hill without trashing your knees with the extra  weight on the way down. If  you’re lacking a handy stream,  you can carry rocks and dump them out at the top. Just bring extra padding for your back.

* Do two sessions a week (72 hours between each), unless

 you’re getting out and hiking  with a pack on the weekends, and then only do one. *  Wear boots similar to what  you’ll wear on your climb, not running shoes. * Breathe through your nose;  you should still be able to maintain a conversation. The goal is to have fatigue in your legs at a relatively low heart rate. If you are able to hike fast enough to get short of breath, you need to add more weight or pick a steeper hill.

* The steeper the better for the

hill; a scree field or uneven ski slope is better than a flat trail. * To get the desired amount of  vertical feet, you might need to do multiple laps. * If your legs are already wellconditioned, start with 20 to 25 percent of your body weight. * The speed and weight of the climb should be limited by your legs, not by your breathing. *  A gallon of water weighs eight pounds; one quart weighs two pounds.

Week

Elevation gain in feet/meters

Percent of body weight carried

Times per week

 1-2

1,500/457 

10

2

 3-4 

2,000/610

15

2

5-6 

2,500/762

20

1

7-8

3,000/914

20

2

 9-10

3,500/1,067

25

1

 11-12

4,000/1,219

25

1

AN EXCERPT FROM...

VERTICALLY IMPAIRED?

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So, you’re in North Dakota and the highest thing within 150 miles is a hay barn. It can  be ver y eff ective to do this type of weighted workout using only a 12-inch box to step up and down. The boredom factor may become extreme, so you may want to arrange a source of entertainment, but it’s easy to control the intensity and overall quantity of the training.

SCOTT JOHNSTON

Growing up in Boulder, Colorado, Johnston was immediately recognized for his impressive cardiovascular endurance, which he utilized when competing in World Cups for Nordic ski racing.  Johnston currently lives in Mazama, Washington, where he continues to ski and climb.

 Available at patag onia. com/  books

Climbing (USPS No. 0919-220, ISSN No. 0045-7159) is published ten times a year (February, March, April (Gear), May, July (Photo Annual), August, September, October, November, December/January) by SkramMedia LLC, 2520 55th St., Suite 210, Boulder, CO 80301. Periodicals postage paid at Boulder, CO, and additional mailing offices. Canada Post publications agreement No. 40008153. Subscription rates are $29.97 for one year of postal delivery in the United States. Add $20 per year for Canada and $40 per year for surface postage to other foreign countries. Canadian undeliverable mail to Pitney Bowes IMEX PO Box 54, Station A, Windsor ON N9A 6J5. Postmaster: Please send all UAA to CFS. Retailers: Please send correspondence to Climbing c/o Retail Vision 815 Ogden Avenue, Lisle, IL 60532-1337. Climbing magazine is a division of SkramMedia LLC. POSTMASTER: Send address changes to: Climbing, PO Box 420235, Palm Coast FL 32142-0235. C L I M B I N G . C O M | 79

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C L I N I C S 

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IN SESSION 

GUIDE’S TIP 

RIPPED FROM  THE HEADLINES 

TRAINING 

BEGIN HERE 

BEGIN HERE 

OPPOSITE AND OPPOSED By Julie Ellison

GET THE SAFETY OF A LOCKING CARABINER WITH TWO NON-LOCKERS

Carabiners act as important connection points in climbing, and whether it’s between the rope and a bolt or you and the anchor, we trust our lives to these tiny pieces of metal. While non-locking biners are acceptable in many applications, certain connections are more critical (e.g., belay biners, clipping into the anchor) and require a gate that can be locked into a closed position, which keeps it from accidentally opening. Since lockers are heavier and more expensive, it’s customary to carry the bare minimum on a route,  but you might run into a situation where you need a locking biner but are running short. Orienting two non-locking biners the right way will emulate the safety and security of one locking biner, but beware of two other orientations that aren’t quite as safe.

OPPOSITE The gate of one is matched  with the spine of the other; the top is matched with the  bottom and vice versa. This is not foolproof because if one biner rotates 180 degrees on the rope (which is common), both gates are aligned and could open together, making it possible for the rope to slip out.

OPPOSED Spines are together, gates are together, and the top of one  biner is matched with the bottom of the other. When open, the gates form an X, making it difficult for the rope to slip out, but the concern here is  biner strength. Biners lose about 60 to 70 percent of their strength (think 9 kN instead of 24 kN) when the gate is open, and in this orientation, the same force (impact on rock) could open both gates, which  would mean they’re weakened at the same moment.

ANOTHER QUICK FIX Sometimes bailing off a long route involves leaving lots of gear behind, or there are established slings and webbing, but no rappel rings. Or maybe there’s only one aluminum rap ring, and you would prefer to have a backup. (Aluminum rappel rings should always be used in pairs, while one steel ring will do the trick. Aluminum rap rings are thinner and feel  very light, while a steel ring is thicker and heavier.) Instead of leaving an expensive locker or two nonlockers, put a few wraps of climbing tape around the gate and nose of the non-locking biner, so that it acts like the sleeve of a locking carabiner. By no means does this replace a locking biner, but if you’re faced with having minimal gear to get down and  want to add some safety to rappelling off one nonlocking biner, this will do the trick.

INDEX

OPPOSITE AND OPPOSED Gates and spines are not matched up, but the tops and  bottoms are together. This is the strongest and safest setup for substituting two non-locking biners for one locking biner.     )     3     (     N     R     O     C     R     E     P     U     S

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LASER SPEED Starts quick. Fast through the turns.

www.petzl.com/LASER