Educate

The Prescription—April

Denali (20,310 feet) is the highest peak in North America. The name is derived from Koyukon, a traditional Native Alaskan language, and means “the tall one.” Photo: NPS/ Tim Rains

The Denali climbing season is imminent. The peak’s high latitude, extreme altitude, and arctic climate present hazards that challenge even the most experienced climbers.

Our April “Prescription” is a Denali National Park accident summary, accompanied by an altitude illness report from the peak’s most popular route. While mishaps involving crevasses, avalanches, and falls plague climbers every year, altitude illness is the most preventable cause of incidents on Denali.

This following summary and report will be published in the upcoming 2024 Accidents in North American Climbing. The book will also include a special feature titled Acclimatization and High Altitude Illness, written by Dr. Peter Hackett and ANAC Senior Editor, Dave Weber.


Denali National Park Accident Summary

Denali mountaineering rangers treated a total of 33 patients during the 2023 climbing season in the Alaska Range. The following list provides a breakdown of the diagnoses* from this past rescue season:

  • Traumatic Injury – 11 cases (includes one facial laceration, three shoulder injuries, one traumatic brain injury, one case of fractured ribs, one neck injury, and four patients with various musculoskeletal injuries)

  • Frostbite - 11 cases

  • Medical - Six cases (includes two hypothermia, one diverticulitis, one spontaneous pneumothorax, one possible case of anxiety, and one case of anaphylaxis)

  • High Altitude Cerebral Edema – Three cases

  • High Altitude Pulmonary Edema – Three cases

*Some patients had multiple diagnoses resulting in a higher number of diagnoses than the total number of patients.

Twenty-one patients required helicopter evacuation from Denali National Park. Three patients were evacuated by NPS Rangers on the ground and nine patients self-evacuated after receiving treatment.

There were three mountaineering-related deaths in the Alaska Range during the 2023 climbing season, with an additional post-evacuation fatality. One occurred when a solo skier was caught in an avalanche. Two fatalities occurred due to a fall from the Moose’s Tooth in the Ruth Gorge. On Denali’s West Buttress, one climber suffering from severe altitude illness was treated and evacuated, but subsequently died in hospital (see below).

While some accidents are difficult to predict and prevent, many of these medical illnesses and traumatic injuries are preventable with prudent decision-making and a reasonable ascent profile during climbing expeditions. Additional information regarding the prevention, recognition, and treatment of common mountain medicine maladies can be found online in the Denali mountaineering handbook: https://www.nps.gov/dena/planyourvisit/part2medicalissues.htm

(Source: Denali Mountaineering Rangers.)


The highest peak in North America is a perennial favorite among domestic and international climbers. Photo: NPS/Kent Miller

Alaska | High Altitude Cerebral Edema

Denali, West Buttress

On May 31, an independent expedition camped at 14,200-foot camp notified rangers via radio that one team member, a twenty-four-year-old Coloradan, had an altered mental status. The team stated that they had been dropped off by fixed wing aircraft at Base Camp (7,200 feet) on May 27. Immediately upon landing, they embarked on the West Buttress route, reaching 14,200-foot camp a day and a half later on the evening of May 28. The team stated that upon reaching camp, all members were feeling “ok.” On the afternoon of May 30, teammates alerted NPS rangers that the Coloradan—after reportedly feeling “groggy” with a slight headache—began exhibiting severe symptoms of high-altitude cerebral edema (HACE) and pulmonary edema (HAPE). A second team member was experiencing moderate symptoms of HAPE.

Weather conditions were not flyable on the night of May 30. A team of NPS rangers and volunteer patrol members performed 18 hours of advanced life support on the unresponsive HACE/HAPE patient throughout the night. Treatment included a hyperbaric chamber, medications, supplemental oxygen, and mechanical breathing assistance.

On the morning of May 31, the patient was evacuated by helicopter. An Air National Guard Pararescue Specialist from the 212th Rescue Unit served as the medical attendant. The patient was flown to Talkeetna and was then transferred to a LifeMed air ambulance for advanced care. Unfortunately, the patient succumbed to the effects of HACE/HAPE in the hospital.

ANALYSIS

As many do, this team made the assumption that living at a relatively high altitude (5,000 feet) and maintaining a high level of fitness would prepare them adequately for rapid elevation gain. This incident is an extreme example of the inaccuracy of this assumption. Even those who live at elevations far higher than 5000 feet may not be adequately acclimatized for a climb up Denali. The human body begins losing its altitude adaptions in a matter of days, an interval that many climbers spend while traveling to Alaska and Base Camp.

The Wilderness Medicine Society recommends that while ascending above an altitude of 9,000 feet, climbers should limit their daily elevation gain to no more than 500 meters (~1,650 feet) between sleeping locations. They also recommend spending an extra night at the same elevation for every 3,300 feet of elevation gained.

Every season, many extremely fit climbers attempt Denali. While physical conditioning is an important factor in risk management and success, the overestimation of fitness as a determinant factor gets many of these same climbers into trouble.

Unfortunately, an individual’s degree of fitness does not determine whether or not they will suffer altitude illness. Only a conservative ascent profile and proper acclimatization will prevent this.

(Source: Denali Mountaineering Rangers.)


Though Denali’s West Buttress is considered a “walk-up” in technical terms, the route still offers plenty of steep climbing. Photo: Dave Weber

THIN AIR ON DENALI: THE EDITOR’S STORY

I climbed the West Buttress in 2003 as an intended acclimatization for another route. Looking back, I fit the profile of the individual involved in the above accident—I lived in Colorado at above 5,000 feet, I was fit, and I trained consistently prior to the trip. While I knew that the West Buttress was technically moderate, I also knew that the relative atmospheric pressure of the 6,190 meter (20,310 feet) summit was the equivalent of over 7,000 meters in the Himalayas.

We made fairly rapid progress and my fitness served me well on the way up to14,200-foot camp. When we arrived, I felt “off.” Having spent considerable time in the Himalayas climbing above 6,000 meters, experience told me that I could use a few restful days and nights to acclimatize. My partner however, was feeling spry and was eager to carry on to the next higher camp at 17,200 feet. He wanted an advantageous position for a summit bid.

Sometimes you get lucky—the ongoing debate on whether to immediately go higher or stay put, ended when a storm rolled in. By the time the weather cleared, we were rested and acclimatized enough to skip 17,200-foot camp and successfully dash to the summit and back. The forced delay had paid off, as did the solid path beaten into the fresh snow by the dozens of summiteers, whose ranks had swollen during the days of bad weather. Had we pushed higher sooner, I may have gotten altitude illness. This would have negated a summit attempt and/or endangered myself and my partner. This episode was a reminder that mountains do not care how hard you trained, nor how tight your schedule is.

—Pete Takeda


Sign Up for AAC Emails

The Prescription—March 2024

This month we have an unreported accident from a few years ago. This incident occurred at Mt. Woodson near San Diego. A climber atop one of beautiful granite boulders that sprinkle the area was lowering his partner when the unthinkable occurred.

Thibault Philippine leads the mega classic Robbins Crack (5.10a) at Mt. Woodson. This boulder was the scene of a serious lowering accident in 2021. Visible in this image is the sloping summit and the barely discernible anchor bolts, six feet below and to the right of the top. Note: Philippine was not in any way involved in this accident. Photo: Philipp Arndt

Ground Fall | No Belay Anchor

San Diego County, Mt. Woodson

On February 24, 2021, Dawson Riley (21) and his friend (19) were enjoying a day out at Mt. Woodson. Riley, an experienced climber, had taken this friend climbing a few times before. Riley first led the 35-foot route Robbins Crack (5.10a) and attached a quad anchor sling to the bolts atop the large boulder. His friend then followed, with Riley belaying from above on a Grigri. Riley then adjusted the position of the anchor so that they could lower each other and climb Lie Detector (5.12a/b), another crack route (the analog to Robbins Crack) that shares the same bolt anchor. After each climber took a turn on Lie Detector, they sat together on top of the boulder.

Shortly after, Riley removed his quad anchor from the bolts. Unanchored and with the Grigri clipped directly to his harness, Riley began lowering his friend down the Robbins Crack side of the boulder. The rope began feeding rapidly through the Grigri. Riley released the brake handle to block the rope and started to slide off the boulder. Riley fanned out his body in an attempt to increase friction but was quickly launched off the boulder. He fell approximately 25 feet and landed on his right side. His partner, still tied to the end of the rope, had fallen approximately ten feet and was uninjured.

On impact, Riley suffered a seizure and remained unconscious. Others nearby heard his partner yelling for help. They called 911, and nearby CAL FIRE first responders arrived. They placed Riley on a stretcher and onto the flat bed of their truck, then transported him to a nearby airport. There, they met a Mercy Air medical helicopter, who flew him to the Palomar Health trauma center.

Riley sustained multiple injuries including a concussion, an open fracture of both bones in the right forearm, a lung contusion, and three pelvic fractures. He was not wearing a helmet. He required multiple surgeries but has fully recovered and continues to climb.

Dawson Riley sitting atop the Robbins Boulder last week. He has fully recovered from the 2021 accident. As you can see, this time Riley is safely attached to the anchor bolts. Photo: Alex Sanson

Analysis

The Robbins Boulder requires lowering or rappelling to descend. The large and deceptively angled summit can give climbers a false sense of security. Dawson recalled having removed his quad anchor from the bolts while he and his friend sat and relaxed after climbing Lie Detector. The quad anchor gear remained attached to his harness, while his friend remained tied into the rope.

Complacency plays a role in many accidents, and this incident might be no exception. In this case, Riley’s familiarity with the climb (he’d been on top of the Robbins Boulder many times) and the large, comfortable summit belied the hazard. In any perilous position, it is critical to establish and maintain a safe anchor, perform safety checks with your partner, and assess/test the system before detaching from the anchor. It is also wise to redirect the rope through the anchor while lowering another climber from a braking device that is directly attached to the harness. This technique creates extra friction and allows more control of the lowering speed and the force on the belayer.

A safer alternative might have been a rappel from the bolts. As Riley recalls, “Looking back, the only way I had descended the route [previously] was by rappelling. On that day, my brain wanted to lower my partner because I noticed he was still tied in and the rope was running through my Grigri. But muscle memory was getting me ready to rappel, so I removed the quad then began lowering without registering that I was unanchored.” 

(Source: Dawson Riley.)


Learn More About Safe Lowering Techniques

John Godino at Alpine Savvy has created climbing and navigation content for years. Below are some good tips on lowering at alpinesavvy.com.


Sign Up for AAC Emails

“The Prescription” is the monthly newsletter of Accidents in North American Climbing. Join the American Alpine Club email list to get it right to your inbox.

EDUCATE: Hazel Findlay on Yosemite, Magic Line, and the Theory of Flow

We sat down with the master of climbing mindset, Hazel Findlay. Hazel has made many significant free ascents of El Cap, and is one of the very few to climb the storied single pitch trad test piece, Magic Line. In this episode of the podcast, we talk with Hazel about her history with Yosemite, the projecting process for Magic Line, and of course, tips and tricks for building a strong mind. She shares some of her best insights about finding flow; a new concept that compliments flow, called clutch; first steps towards building a personal sending philosophy; and even a few practical exercises you can put into practice right now to start working on your headgame. And of course, how this all got applied during her own projecting process for Magic Line, because Pro’s struggle with headgame too!

The Prescription—February

The ice and mixed season is in full swing. While offering a dazzling range of sights, sounds, and textures, winter climbing arguably presents the highest risk to life and limb of any crag-oriented climbing genre. Ice is an ever-changing medium. The clothing and tools required deprive climbers of the accustomed “feel” for the climbing medium—so critical to fair-weather rock climbing.

This month we have two accidents from 2023. Both involved collapsing ice formations. One had an injury-free ending. The other ended in tragedy.

Code Red (WI 5) in Hyalite Canyon, before and after a dramatic collapse in January 2023. The two climbers involved in this accident fortunately emerged unharmed. Caption:  Photo: Lauren Olivia Smith/Climbing magazine

Fall on Ice | Collapsed Pillar

Hyalite Canyon, Montana

On January 27, 2023, Lauren Olivia Smith and Bailey Lasko, both of Bozeman, Montana, were climbing Code Red (WI 5) in nearby Hyalite Canyon. This single-pitch ice pillar has a longer approach than other popular venues in the canyon. The approach, combined with the avalanche hazard, made for a more serious outing. 

Smith was leading. As she reported to Climbing magazine, “(From the approach gully)…the pillar looked funky and off-kilter, in a shape I’d never seen before…. I remember thinking it doesn’t look quite right, but the part that was leaning seemed quite big, and we had a big freeze-thaw [cycle], so I figured it was well-attached.”

From a closer vantage, Smith confirmed that Code Red appeared well-attached to the rock and “gave its stability no further thought.” At 15 feet up, Smith heard a cracking noise from above. The bottom half of the pillar then collapsed, toppling “like a falling tree.” Smith said, “I remember seeing a chunk of ice fall past me with my tool still in it.” 

The point of detachment was 35 feet above Smith. With no intermediate protection, she—and the unanchored Lasko—"rocketed down the 30-degree approach slope.” Smith had been climbing on the lower-angled (left) side of the formation, and the inclined column fell away from her, so she avoided being crushed. The pair slid alongside the pillar before self-arresting after 100 feet, and they emerged unharmed.

ANALYSIS

Smith did well to assess temperature patterns in the days prior to the outing. She also chose a line that was well-bonded to the top of the cliff. While Smith was surprised at the collapse, it’s worth noting that the unusual crooked profile indicated the pillar had previously cracked and toppled partway before refreezing at a Pisa-like tilt. Inclined columns are subject to axial compression, shear forces, and in this case, buckling. Smith says she now completes a full 360-degree inspection of any free-standing ice pillar before climbing.

(Sources: Climbing magazine, The Editors.)


Fall on Ice | Collapsed Pillar

Right Fork of Indian Canyon, Duchesne, Utah

On April 2, 2023, Meg O’Neill (40), a member of a party of three climbers, was killed when struck by a collapsing ice column on Raven Falls (WI4), near Duchesne in northeast Utah. According to the Duchesne County Sheriff’s Office, O’Neill, who was standing nearby, saved the belayer’s life by pushing her out of the fall zone. The leader was seriously injured.


Sean McLane (34) was on lead near the top of the second pitch when the accident occurred. He was belayed by Anne Nikolov (21), while O’Neill was spectating.

Sean McLane climbing Raven Falls (WI 4) on an earlier ascent. This two-pitch climb near Duchesne, Utah was the scene of a fatal accident in April 2023. McLane wrote, “On the day of the accident, it looked about the same (as in this photo). Photo: Sean McLane

McLane wrote to ANAC, “It had been warm for a couple days, and this was to be my last climb of the season. We were a group of three. Meg was experienced and a regular climbing partner of mine. Anne was new and had climbed a couple times with Meg.”

McLane led the first pitch and brought the other two up. The base of pitch 2 was a broad snow ledge about 100 feet above the top of the first pitch.

“The second pitch was an ice column that formed at the lip of a cave. The column was 40 feet high and 15 feet in diameter. I saw no signs of instability. I didn’t see or hear any significant running water. There was little to no cone at the bottom, although a 15-foot radius of ice was present at the base. I stomped on it to test for anything being undercut, but it felt solid, likely because it was a couple feet thick and my weight wasn't enough to stress it.”

“I led out the back of the ice and corkscrewed around to the side. Anne (Nikolov) was belaying and Meg (O’Neill) was walking around, taking pictures. As I [was nearly] top[ping] out, there was a significant density change in the ice. It went from wet, one-swing sticks, to dense… dinner-plating [hits]."

McLane climbed above the point where the ice was attached to the rock. As he swung an ice tool into an already dinner-plated placement, the pillar fractured, breaking two or three feet below the point of the pick’s impact.

According to McLane, the collapse took “my other tool and both my feet with it. Meg was in the cave behind the pillar, and Anne was to the side. Most of the column went downhill, but falling ice buried Meg.”

Climbing magazine wrote that O’Neill “noticed the ice fracture, and… may have heard it cracking just before the formation broke.” She then pushed Nikolov aside, and as also reported in Climbing magazine, “Her quick thinking undoubtedly saved Anne’s life.” 

McLane recalls, “I had placed screws in the pillar and was pulled off by the rope. The main column fell down the slope away from me, and I came straight down. "I hit the ground... land[ing] on my back [atop] a large chunk of ice. [This] broke my spine at L2... That was my only injury besides scrapes and bruises. I put myself in recovery position as Anne tried to get to Meg.”

The closest cell signal was driving distance away. McLane showed Nikolov how to fix a rappel line and then gave her his phone along with directions to access the car keys. Nikolov safely descended, drove to town and contacted SAR and local climbers. About six hours after the accident, some Salt Lake climbing friends arrived. McLane was long-lined by helicopter to the road. He was then loaded into another helicopter and flown to a hospital in Salt Lake City.

*Editor’s Note: This is an example of a hidden ice climbing hazard called a False Pillar. To learn more, click the link below.

 ANALYSIS

Alpinism and ice climbing are perhaps the most dangerous of climbing games. As mentioned above, frozen water is a fickle, ever-changing medium. And, as demonstrated in these two accidents, the hazards are often invisible. In no small way, luck was a determinant factor in the different outcome of these two accidents.

On Raven Falls, McLane—a very experienced climber who had safely climbed the route twice previously—visually assessed the ice and stomp-tested the base to ensure the column was attached. He wrote to ANAC that, “In retrospect, to fail as it did, the pillar must have been melted out from underneath.” The solid-looking column was basically a free-hanging, bus-sized chunk of ice.

McLane has physically recovered; it took about six months to get back to normal climbing.

McLane notes:

  • Running water underneath an ice formation can render a solid and fully attached flow free-hanging and unstable. Figuring out if ice is undercut can be hard to impossible to do, without seeing the running water or the gap between the bottom of the pillar and the base. Several days of warmer temperatures can create this dangerous situation. 

  • Large variations in ice quality and density (on the route) may signal stability issues. 

  • (When belaying or spectating) Position yourself farther away than you might think in order to stay out of the way of falling ice. A cave is not necessarily protected if the ice collapses.

  • Carry an extra layer (pack it with you on your harness or in your pack). Since it was a warm day, I left my puffy at the base, a pitch below. I got very cold lying on ice and not moving for many hours.

  • If you might need something on a multi-pitch route, don’t leave it at the base. A satellite communicator and warm layers with me on pitch two would have made a bad situation more manageable.

(Source: Sean McLane, Climbing magazine, and The Editors.)


To Climb or Not to Climb?

More people than ever are ice climbing. At the same time, climate change is dramatically affecting geologic stability in the mountains. Changes include rock fall, glacial recession, and waterfall ice collapse. The intersection of ice climbing popularity and effects of climate change can cause accidents.

This flowchart was developed by Derek DeBruin. It was first published in the 2023 ANAC. This tool can assist in managing hazards by helping determine the stability of the ice, the effectiveness of ice screw protection, and the quality of ice tool placement. Downloadable PDF and image are available through the link below.


The Prescription is the monthly newsletter of Accidents in North American Climbing. The Prescription brings you monthly unpublished accident reports, tech tips, links to new online educational resources, and much more—all aimed at helping you become a safer climber.

Sign Up for AAC Emails

The Prescription—January 2024

A note from the editor of Accidents in North American Climbing: I’m writing this from the AAC Hueco Rock Ranch in Texas. Here, the season is in full swing for what some say is the best bouldering on the planet. While often regarded as relatively risk-free, bouldering can be plenty dangerous. This month we feature a reminder from Joshua Tree National Park.

The Hidden Valley Area of Joshua Tree National Park. This popular expanse holds a vast number of classic boulder problems, including White Rastafarian (V2-3,PG-13). Photo: Wikimedia Commons NPS/Hannah Schwalbe.

Bouldering Fall | Insufficient Pads

California, Joshua Tree National Park, Hidden Valley Area

On November 9, 2023, Gibson McGee (19) was bouldering on White Rastafarian, a V2 (often graded V3) highball that has been the scene of many accidents. He fell from near the top and struck the ground, shattering his L1 vertebra, the highest bone in the lower back.

Though Mountain Project describes White Rastafarian as “one of JTree’s finest (problems),” the climb is 25 feet tall—more a short route instead of a boulder problem. After the midpoint crux, the climber is faced with a tricky mantel topout.

Victor Pinto topping out on the classic White Rastafarian. John Long, who did the first ascent of this iconic highball with John Bachar, wrote of their experience in Climbing magazine, “Once we passed a precise but invisible line, we were soloing, plain and simple.” Photo: Victor Pinto.

McGee wrote to ANAC, “I was heading to Joshua Tree for the weekend, and I was planning on meeting a group who were coming in the following morning. After setting up camp, I went to go climb the nearby White Rastafarian. I had previously attempted it but fell at the crux (15 feet off ground). I was fine with no injuries.” McGee laid out three crash pads, set up a video camera to record himself, and started up the route.

Graphic Video Warning

At Accidents in North American Climbing we refrain from publishing gratuitous depictions of injury. However, to convey the real risks of an activity that many people consider relatively risk-free, we are providing a link to Gibson’s Instagram account:
See his video here.

“I got to the top of the route (about 25 feet off ground) and was too pumped to do the ‘easy’ mantel onto the top of the rock. I looked down and decided I could drop safely. I dropped, but when I hit the ground, I ended up shattering my L1 vertebra. I then army crawled (using arms and upper body to cross the ground) to the nearby Hidden Valley Campground, where I got help and was transported by ambulance to High Desert Medical Center.”

McGee is currently recovering. He wrote, “While I am eager to be able to climb again, healing physically and mentally from this fall will take me quite some time. I was very fortunate looking back on the possible injuries I could’ve sustained.”

Analysis

Bouldering is inherently dangerous, and highball problems particularly so. On Reddit, un poco lobo posted, “Was chatting with a park ranger who said they see more accidents on WR (White Rastafarian) than pretty much all other routes/problems combined.”

A Similar Accident

For another Joshua Tree bouldering accident involving inadequate pad placement, click here.

McGee had been consistently climbing outdoors for one year prior. He recalls, “I saw White Rastafarian the first week I started climbing. It has always been a dream for me to do it.” His pad placements were in the right place and he landed cleanly—no part of his body struck exposed ground. While multiple pads are great idea, an evenly distributed second layer of pads might have saved McGee from a trip to the hospital. Covering gaps between pads with a thin “slider” pad also would have provided additional safety. McGee mentioned, “I should’ve brought a buddy and stacked bouldering pads.”

Keep ‘Em On The Pad!

In bouldering, spotting is the norm. On highballs, though, spotters can be extraneous as the impact forces of a falling climber can be equally harmful to the spotter. See a fall from the same problem that came close to injuring the spotter here.

While spotting highballs is more art than science, the general rule is to ensure the falling climber stays on the pad after impact. Guaranteeing that the climber impacts the pad itself is part of good pad placement. A spotter should also protect the head and neck from impacting bare ground or surrounding obstacles. Another good rule to follow is to never fall above the 20-foot mark. Be open to using a top-rope to practice the problem. John Gill himself was a big exponent of top-roping.

Finally, Joshua Tree has a well-earned reputation for tricky climbing and a long learning curve. As always, different climbing areas have special characteristics that grades do not convey. Be conservative and risk-averse as you learn the peculiarities of any area. Wrote McGee, “I have bouldered in Joshua Tree four or five times. The grading is much, much harder than what you might think. I let the number (V2-3) get in my head rather than trusting the true difficulty of J Tree grades.”

(Sources: Gibson McGee, Mountain Project, and Climbing magazine.)


Clarification and Reflection on Michael Spitz Free Solo Accident

In the 2023 ANAC, we reported on the death of free soloist Michael Spitz. Recently, Brian Gillette, a close friend of Spitz, reached out to correct some inaccuracies in our report. In his letter to ANAC, Gillette filled some gaps in our understanding of the accident, while offering some thoughtful words on risk.

A short excerpt, “In the year before his death, Mike's free soloing had accelerated from an occasional outing to a nearly weekly activity. The more he free soloed, the more I watched his perception of the risks become disconnected from the reality of climbing. Mike had also been surfing a heavy swell in the days leading up to his death. When I spoke with him the night before, I thought he sounded tired and told him to take it easy. He told me he planned to climb for the day and head home. From what I can tell, soloing Illusion Dweller was a last-minute decision. He might have been more tired than he realized. It might explain why a small slip caused him to fall. Mike's last-minute decision also meant that he wasn't prepared in any way for a potential accident, even a minor one.”

Read the original report and Brian Gillette’s full letter here.


Sign Up for AAC Emails


 

The Prescription—December 2023

This month we have an unfortunate accident that occurred several months ago on a popular one-pitch sport route at Sand Rock, Alabama. This accident underscores the sometimes perilous learning curve faced by those transitioning from indoor to outdoor climbing.

Andrea Bender climbing Misty (5.10b/c), the scene of a fatal fall in October 2023. Mountain Project reports that this climb is “not to be missed.” Photo: Andrea Bender Collection

Fatal Fall From Anchor | Inexperience, Inadequate Supervision

Alabama, Sand Rock, Sun Wall

On October 14, Yutung “Faye” Zhang (18) fell 90 feet from the anchors of Misty (5.10b/c) while cleaning this route at Sand Rock in northeastern Alabama. It was her second time climbing outdoors. At around 12 p.m., Zhang, a new climber and part of a larger group, took a final top-rope lap on the route. She cleaned the quickdraws and reached the two-bolt anchor. The anchor was equipped with two mussy hooks plus a single locking carabiner that had been placed by one of the other climbers to guard against the rope from unclipping from the mussys. 

No one was at the anchors with Zhang to see exactly what happened. Jun C., who was belaying Zhang at the time of the accident, wrote on Mountain Project, “We put the locker in on the incredibly unlikely premise that the mussys could come unclipped. Not that any of us really thought that would happen, but we wanted to keep our party safe. [While Zhang was on the ground], we communicated and demonstrated what she was to do when she got to the top.... She was aware and confident of just needing to remove a locker and leave the mussys clipped.”

The anchor at the top of Misty. Karsten Delap, a guide who visited the area after the accident, said, “When she undid the (locking) carabiner, she was probably a little bit above [the mussys], with a little bit of slack.” Photo by Karsten Delap

It is assumed that after removing the locking carabiner at the belay, Zhang somehow unclipped the rope from the mussy hooks. Jun C., the belayer, wrote, “Suddenly the rope became unweighted and she (Zhang) wasn’t clipped through the mussys anymore. I fell and smacked my back and head against another rock, and she fell right beside me…. A few of us trained in emergency first response came to aid immediately, as well as a physician that just happened to be in the area. EMS response was quite fast as well, but there was really nothing to be done.” 

Jun C. added, “Between all of us we have decades of climbing experience. In our eyes, this [lowering from the mussys] was routine and one of the safest things we could ask of a relatively new climber.” The belayer added, “At the same time, I know all of us are kicking ourselves for asking her to do anything at all.… We’ve all been thinking about what we could or should have done differently or how this could have been a safer experience.” (Sources: mountainproject.com, climbing.com, and the Editors.)


ANALYSIS

A few weeks after the accident, IFMGA guide Karsten Delap climbed this route and provided ANAC with some images and video. He observed that the best handholds at the end of Misty were located above the bolts. (See the video below.) This may have positioned Zhang above the mussys. Then, as Zhang weighted the rope, it might have loaded the mussys incorrectly and become unclipped.

A more in-depth article on best practices for using mussy hooks, written by Delap, will appear in the 2024 ANAC. For now, he writes that, “It is plausible that the rope was threaded from right to left on the mussy hooks, with the locking carabiner positioned between the two hooks. As the climber approached the anchor from the right side, an attempt to remove the locking carabiner involved pulling up above the mussy hooks to introduce slight slack into the system. While this facilitated the removal of the carabiner, it also inadvertently positioned the rope over the gates of the mussy hooks. The belayer, responding to the climber's movement, probably took up slack, felt the climber's weight, and subsequently the gates of the mussy hooks back-clipped under the full force of the climber's weight. This resulted in the rope becoming dislodged from the anchor.” 

BE A PRO, KEEP IT LOW

Delap noted that the addition of a locking carabiner to a mussy hook belay was inappropriate for the system. In this case, the locker probably brought the rope above the plane of the hooks, a mistake when considering the “open” nature of mussy hooks.

After the accident, Delap posted an Instagram video detailing some best practices for mussy use. Click here or on the photo to see the video.

“The best thing you can do is always stay below the mussy hooks, both with your anchor setup and your body,” Delap writes. “So be a pro, keep it low.”

Greg Barnes is executive director of the American Safe Climbing Association (ASCA). Though Barnes is a proponent of lower-offs such as mussy hooks, he says these useful tools have inherent limits.

He wrote to ANAC: “Lower-offs include hooks, ram's horns, fixed carabiners, etc. We have had a policy of avoiding hooks for popular top-rope-accessible routes because of the chance of hooks becoming unclipped as someone transitions to rappel.”

Although mussys have a proven safety record, Barnes believes, they still require eduation. He writes, “In Owens River Gorge, lower-offs [have been] the standard since the early ’90s. Despite very heavy climber traffic for 30 years, there have been very few anchor changeover accidents compared to similar areas with closed anchors. In the Sand Rock case, we don’t know whether the rope became accidentally unclipped or if the climber unclipped them on purpose. It is wise to have direct supervision—namely an experienced climber at the same anchor—when a new climber cleans an anchor.” (Sources: Karsten Delap, Greg Barnes, and the Editors.)



Sign Up for AAC Emails

 

EDUCATE: Everything You Didn't Know About Royal Robbins

Most climbers know the name Royal Robbins. But how much do you really know about this legendary figure in American climbing? Writer and editor David Smart has written a new award winning biography of Royal, called Royal Robbins: The American Climber. The AAC sat down with David to discuss how Royal’s revolutionary years in Yosemite fits into the grander scheme of climbing history, the undervalued climbs from Royal’s life, his writerly intellectualism, bringing nuts to the US to replace pitons, his famed frenemy Warren Harding, and his mixed feelings around bolting throughout his career. Dive into the episode to learn more about one of climbing history’s biggest personalities!


The Prescription—November

Winter is coming and our attentions are shifting to sunny destinations like Southern Arizona. This month we have an unfortunate mishap that occurred last winter on one of the region’s premier backcountry crags.

Table Dome is one of the more readily accessible formations in Mendoza Canyon. Still, the approach is long and rugged. Photo: Jerry Cagle

Fall on Rock | Broken Hold

Arizona, Mendoza Canyon, Table Dome

On February 24, 2023, Steve Sagin (58) and Jerry Cagle (70) were climbing Wily Javelina (6 pitches, 5.9, PG-13) on Table Dome in the remote Mendoza Canyon, southwest of Tucson. On pitch five, Sagin broke a hold and took a long leader fall.

Cagle recounted the following in a report to ANAC:

“We began planning for this climb with a check of the predicted weather for the day: pleasantly warm around midday with an occasional light breeze. Our spouses were informed of our plans.

Steve Sagin leading pitch one of Wily Javelina. Cagle notes, “The first bolt is 30 to 40 feet off the ground.” He adds, “The climbing in the canyon is on granite; the quality varies from corn-flake crust to bombproof.” Photo: Jerry Cagle.

Wily Javelina is a coveted route and considered a bit of a testpiece. Though it’s frequently climbed using just the bolts, the distances between are considerable, but can be supplemented with gear—albeit possibly dubious—so we also carried a light rack. We each carried a cell phone, and I carried a Garmin inReach Mini. We had jackets, space blankets, food, water, and headlamps.

“Reaching the start of the approach hike entails driving for 9.5 miles on an unmaintained dirt road after leaving the highway. The approach wends through two miles of rugged trails. The areas adjacent to the paths present an impenetrable barrier of cat-claw acacias and thorny mesquite trees.

“It was around 10 a.m. when we started climbing. Steve led pitch one, then we swung leads. Though I had always shied away from this route due to its reputation of serious runouts and sections of poor-quality rock, neither of us was excessively nervous about the risk. But throughout the course of the climb, we repeated the mantra that ‘falling was not an option.’ It is my considered opinion that this route is the textbook definition of an ‘R’ rated route and not PG-13 (as graded on Mountain Project).

“We continued climbing carefully without incident. As Steve led pitch five, he passed the middle mark on the ropes (60m x 7.9mm twin/half). He was well past the second bolt on the chickenhead-studded upper section, at the start of the easier climbing, when a large hold fractured, sending considerable debris past my helmet. He fell, striking a large ledge 30 or 40 feet below him with the full force of his weight. The rope came taut as he started to slide off the ledge. It was immediately obvious that he was seriously injured.

“We determined that lowering him to my position at the anchor was our best option. We had enough rope to lower him to the stance with about ten feet to spare.

“Steve was bleeding in several places but not excessively. His broken ankle was likely the most serious injury, and we determined it was not a compound [open] fracture. We knew we couldn’t extricate ourselves from the canyon due to the difficult terrain, so I pulled out the inReach, only to discover that the batteries were dead. We next dialed 911 on my cell phone. The battery was low, having recorded our approach using the Gaia GPS application. To our surprise, a voice came on the other end asking, ‘What's your emergency?’ We explained our situation and indicated that we intended to rappel the route but would require assistance to evacuate.

The rough approach to Table Dome factored into the call for a helicopter rescue. Cagle wrote, “The topography is generally rugged and invariably involves various some degree of bushwhacking.” Photo: Jerry Cagle

“We were starting the last rappel when we heard a helicopter approaching. It came into sight before we reached the ground. A Pima County Sheriff’s Department officer was lowered, and he hooked Steve up to the rescue cable. They flew him to an ambulance which took him to a hospital in Tucson. I was left to return on my own accord and was able to get back to the truck without incident.

“X-rays taken at the hospital showed that Steve's tibia was shattered into eight pieces. The fibula was, thankfully, not involved. This could have just as easily resulted in a fatality had he landed differently.”

ANALYSIS

The duo was very experienced, having over 60 years of climbing between them. Sagin had climbed extensively in Mendoza Canyon, and this was his sixth time on Wily Javelina. Despite this, several factors contributed to the accident.

“But for luck, several other failures could have easily compounded the difficulty of our situation:

  1. My failure to make certain that the battery on the inReach was charged.

  2. My cell phone battery wasn't fully charged when we left that morning. I had intended to charge it on the ride but didn’t have a compatible cable.

  3. On the approach, I didn’t pay sufficient attention to our surroundings and let Steve lead the way while I chatted and followed blindly along. On the return I depended heavily on the GPS track I had recorded on my phone. Had the phone failed for any reason, I am pretty sure I would've gotten lost and had to bivouac.

“As a result of this incident, I now strive, when climbing or hiking, to cultivate a mindset that assumes that there WILL be an accident and to be fully prepared, both in skills and resources.” (Source: Jerry Cagle.)


Sign Up for AAC Emails

Climbers of the Craggin' Classics: Shelf Road

PC: Rob Murillo @murillo.fotographia

We’re interviewing a climber from each event in the Craggin’ Classic Series—Rumney, New River Gorge, Devil’s Lake, Smith Rock, Shelf Road, Moab, and Bishop—to take a deep look into the breadth of climbers that come to Craggins, and how they make the most of each unique event.

Read on to hear from climbers just like you, and their take on the things that matter to climbers.


Meet Featured Climber Stephen Lyter!

Scroll to hear from Stephen about climbing education and safety…


2023 Craggin’ Classic Series Supported By

The Prescription—October

We are approaching the prime season for El Potrero Chico in northern Mexico. This month’s incident took place earlier this year on one of the most sought-after routes in this sport climbing paradise. The classic Time Wave Zero is perhaps the second-longest sport route in North America.

Belay Failure From Above

El Potrero Chico, Nuevo León, Mexico

Time Wave Zero, which climbs the buttress and headwall on the left side of this formation, is over 2,000 feet long and has a fully bolted crux that can be easily aided. These two factors make it a relatively popular route. Photo: Tony Bubb

“On March 14, 2023, my friend (the belayer) and I (Liu Yuezhang, 26) headed to Time Wave Zero (2,000’, III 5.12a or 5.11 A0) in El Potrero Chico (EPC) to check out the approach and prepare for a full attempt a few days later. Our plan was to try the moves of the first two pitches before returning to the ground. While following the second pitch (95’, 5.11b, nine bolts), I experienced a belay failure from above, hitting my right lower back, head, and both elbows as I fell. I was rescued by the EPC rescue team and local climbers. Miraculously, I was not seriously injured.

We had reached the crag around noon. It was drizzling, so there were not many climbers heading out. We were glad to meet two female climbers at an area close to Time Wave. They eventually performed the rescue. I led the first pitch (100’, 5.7, four bolts) and belayed my friend up. We switched leads and my friend led the second pitch, set up the belay, and notified me to follow.

My partner was belaying in guide mode off the bolted anchor (see Fig. 1). He double-checked the system by pulling on the climber’s side of the rope. I climbed to the eighth bolt. Earlier, I had noted that the crux was between the eighth and ninth bolt, so I decided to check out the moves. I said, "Take." I was on the rope around five to ten seconds when I suddenly began to free-fall. I remember the sky moving further and further away, so I must have been falling face up, with my back downward. I thought I was going die.

The belayer remembers releasing both hands at one point, after which the climber’s side of rope began to run rapidly through the ATC. In a panic, he attempted to hold the climber’s side, rather than the belayer’s side of the rope. His right hand got seriously burned. Eventually, the rope (9.5mm, 70m, almost new) stuck inside the belay device (Black Diamond ATC Guide, with Black Diamond RockLock screwgate carabiner) and I was stopped in a slabby area, around ten feet below the pitch 1 anchor. The falling distance was around 60–85 feet.

From my injuries, I inferred that I hit my lower right back on a bulge first, then struck the back side of my head and both elbows before sliding down the slab. My neck and tongue were also slightly impaired by the impact. Due to amnesia, I could not recall some details of the fall. I was wearing a helmet, backpack, and long-sleeve jacket. I noticed climbers approaching on the ground to provide help. Then, in what seemed to be the next second, they were above, readying to lower me. According to the belayer, I repeatedly asked “Where am I?” and said “Record the accident scene.”

The belayer spent around ten minutes trying to feed slack efficiently after I was connected to the rescuer, but I also did not recall this. My consciousness came back to normal while being lowered, but I still experienced some long-term memory loss. The rescue team performed a rapid response, and I was carried on a stretcher to an ambulance. This took around 30 minutes. I was sent to the emergency room in Monterrey and luckily was not seriously injured. I would like to express my utmost gratitude to the EPC rescue team and local climbers for the speedy rescue, especially Juliet. She was one of the female climbers we met earlier, who re-led the first pitch and lowered me down.”

—Liu Yuezhang

ANALYSIS

Yuezhang wrote:

“There were a few mistakes made. One error was when the belayer released both hands while belaying from above. This should be strictly prohibited even with an [assisted-braking] system. Also, the fall could have been caught if he had pulled the correct (belayer’s) side of the rope.

“Besides the above two obvious errors, we next tried to analyze the cause of the autoblock system failure. The ATC setting from the accident is shown in Fig. 1” (below).

Fig. 1 This is a screenshot of the actual anchor and belay configuration immediately following the accident. Photo: Courtesy of Liu Yuezhang

Yuezhang added:

From the photo, we can confirm that the ATC was set correctly (left strand is the belayer side and right strand is the climber side). The climber’s side was initially on top, and eventually got stuck beside the belayer’s side due to the falling impact. After some experiments, we found that the autoblock system might fail if (i) there was a horizontal component force pulling outward, since the belay station was above a bulge, and (ii) the wire of the ATC was stuck by something on the cliff. A repeat experiment is shown in Fig 2 (below). Again, this scenario is very unusual and can be avoided by always having a hand on the belayer’s side.”

Fig. 2 This shows how the ATC orientation can potentially allow the rope to run through the device in guide-mode. Photo: Liu Yuezhang

Yuezhang concludes:

“I was the more experienced climber in the team (one year of trad, multiple years of ice and sport climbing) and received training in multi-pitch climbing from an IFMGA guide. The belayer was the stronger, but less experienced, sport/gym climber. He had no experience of multi-pitch climbing before the trip. To compensate the experience difference, we held two educational sessions in a gym and completed two multi-pitch routes together. At EPC, we climbed several multi-pitch routes while safely switching leads. I emphasized the importance of keeping a hand on the belay side of the rope, even while in autoblock mode. Due to the limited experience with the ATC Guide, the belayer failed to react properly. Also, always wear a helmet. Mine saved me from more severe injuries.”(Source: Liu Yuezhang)


Editor’s Note:

It is possible that when Yuezhang called “take,” the belayer may have grabbed the bight carabiner (or the ATC retaining wire) to disengage the rope/carabiner/device in order to more easily take up slack through the device. While this is not recommended by the manufacturer, it is not an uncommon technique. Yuezhang recalls, “If my memory serves me, the belayer told me he first pulled the slack when I called ‘take.’” Thus, it is plausible that the belayer, finding it difficult to pull in slack, disengaged the rope. When the bight carabiner or retaining wire is pulled upward, it also orients the rope perpendicular to the top of the ATC (as shown in Fig. 2 above). In this case, the ATC might have been pulled horizontally. If the belayer did just that, while Yuezhang momentarily shifted his weight on and off the rope, the rope could have begun to slip rapidly through the ATC (see Fig. 3 below).

We know that the belayer, now panicking, mistakenly grabbed the follower’s side of the rope in a vain attempt to arrest the fall. His grip may have prevented the device from loading, that is, until excruciating rope burns forced him to release the rope. At this point, the rope locked in the now loaded ATC. The newness of the rope also probably played a role in the accident. Note that in the video below and in Fig. 1, the climber side of the rope is loaded adjacent to the brake side, not on top, as per the intended design. This is probably due to force of the fall and the slickness/diameter of the fresh rope. Extra caution must be taken with any braking or belay device when using a thin and slick rope.

Fig. 3 If the bight carabiner or retaining wire of the device is caught or held upward, and the climber’s side rope is loaded while perpendicular to the top of the ATC, the device can fail to catch. Video: Liu Yuezhang


Join the Club—United We Climb.

Get Accidents Sent to You Annually

Partner-level members receive the Accidents in North American Climbing book every year. Detailing the most noteworthy climbing and skiing accidents each year, climbers, rangers, rescue professionals, and editors analyze what went wrong, so you can learn from others’ mistakes.

Rescue & Medical Expense Coverage

Climbing can be a risky pursuit, but one worth the price of admission. Partner-level members receive $7,500 in rescue services and $5,000 in emergency medical expense coverage. Looking for deeper coverage? Sign up for the Leader level and receive $300k in rescue services.


Sign Up for AAC Emails


The Prescription—September

We are entering the prime season for climbing on the East Coast, so this month we’re featuring an incident that took place on Moss Cliff in upstate New York. Don Mellor, climbing guide and author of American Rock and Climbing in the Adirondacks, calls Moss Cliff “among the most appealing rock walls in the Northeast." Such an attractive crag has its inevitable share of mishaps. The following report appears in the 2023 edition of Accidents in North American Climbing, which is being mailed to AAC members this month, and has been expanded here with more information from the ranger involved in the rescue.

Guidebook author Don Mellor calls Moss Cliff “…the most Adirondack of all Adirondack crags.” Hard Times (5.9+) is drawn in red. The stranded climbers were stuck at the pitch-two belay. Photo by Jim Lawyer.

STRANDED | Stuck Rappel Ropes

Adirondacks, Moss Cliff

At 6:30 p.m. on October 16, 2022, the New York State Department of Environmental Conservation (DEC) rangers received a call from two climbers who were stranded on Moss Cliff in Wilmington Notch within Adirondack State Park. Moss Cliff is a 400-plus-foot face with a 30-minute approach that involves fording a small river.

The two climbers had topped out on a four-pitch trad climb called Hard Times (5.9+) and had completed their first double-rope rappel from the bolted rappel station at the top of the final pitch. When the climbers went to pull their ropes after the first rappel, the rope would not budge. After repeated attempts to pull the ropes down, the climbers considered themselves to be stranded and used a cell phone to contact rangers.

DEC ranger Robbi Mecus was able to talk to the subjects via cell phone and instruct them. She determined that the subjects still had both ends of the rope, and that it would be possible for one of them to use prusiks to climb the ropes back to the anchor. However, the climbers did not have prusik loops and were unfamiliar with techniques for ascending a rope. Mecus was able to coach the climbers by phone on how to use their sewn slings as prusiks. She then instructed them to create two prusik loops: one short one attached to the harness and one long one as a foot loop. She also instructed them to tie in to the ropes directly every few feet as a backup should the prusik attached at the waist fail. The climbers completed one round of practice with Mecus on the phone, and then one of them prusiked to the top of the climb to free the rope from the crack in which it had been stuck.  

Mecus instructed the subjects to pull the knot joining their two ropes down past the obstruction and place a nut in the crack to prevent another stuck rope. They were able to retrieve their ropes and finish their descent. She stayed on the phone with the subjects while she herself approached the cliff to ensure the subjects were following her directions. The subjects had left their headlamps in their packs at the base of the cliff, not expecting to be caught in the dark. This oversight exacerbated the situation. Mecus then assisted the subjects across the west branch of the Ausable River and back to the trailhead.

ANALYSIS

More people are learning to climb in the gym or on sport routes. Thus, they can become stronger climbers much faster than in the past, without learning the foundational skills associated with outdoor traditional climbing. These climbers were very capable, successfully climbing a four-pitch 5.9+ trad route, but were not familiar with the relatively basic rope ascension techniques they needed to ascend and free the rope.  

Investing in self-rescue skills is an important part of transitioning from gym to crag. These can be learned through mentorship (informally or with a guide), through self-rescue courses, or even by reading a book or watching YouTube videos on self-rescue. A few minutes invested in learning and practicing how to ascend a rope with prusiks would have prevented the need for the rangers to be called. The climbers were right to have brought a cell phone and used it to call for help. Had they been unable to receive help by phone, the climbers’ situation would have turned significantly more dire, as they would have been stuck several hundred feet up the face for the night or longer.

As this incident demonstrates, you never know when you may be unexpectedly delayed. The climbers in this incident did not have headlamps and were unprepared to be out after dark. As a general precaution, always bring a headlamp when multi-pitch climbing. Stashing a small headlamp in the bottom of a chalk bag is a great way to ensure you always have one with you.  

(Sources: New York State Department of Environmental Conservation Forest Rangers and the Editors.)

FaceTime and SARTopo

Mecus used FaceTime to communicate with the climbers and visually demonstrate techniques, as she has on other rescues. She recalls one such incident: “A hiking party with an injured individual (dislocated finger) was asking for a ranger to hike out to them. I was able to look at the injury (via FaceTime) and with a good interview determined it was dislocated. I instructed them how to reduce the dislocation, sling and swath the arm, and walk themselves out. Pretty simple.”

Mecus uses other technologies to help people get themselves out of trouble in the mountains and woods—technologies that help conserve precious ranger resources. She says, “With better cell phone coverage comes the ability to send a lost person a link to a SARTopo application. This allows us to see them on a map as they move.” SARTopo, a version of CalTopo, is a widely used, collaborative online and offline mapping tool; the program name SARTopo is being phased out in favor of CalTopo.

For background on SARTopo (CalTopo), click here.

SARTopo is a web-based version of CalTopo with SAR-specific enhancements, including a variety of map layers and overlays. 

For a consumer overview of SARTopo (CalTopo) and a how-to tutorial, click here.

DEC ranger Robbi Mecus says, “Improved cell coverage obviously has impacts on our ability to talk to stranded or injured climbers.”

While cell service has improved in recent years deep in the Adirondacks, you can’t count on a phone in remote areas and should still carry an inReach or other satellite-based communication device. Nonetheless, Mecus says, “Within the past seven or eight years, certain spots on Wallface, our tallest and most remote wilderness cliff, can hit a cell tower. Wallface is six miles from the nearest trailhead and 800 feet tall. A few years ago, we had a seriously injured climber hanging on pitch two of an eight-pitch 5.8 after taking a 60-foot fall. Their friend on the ground was able to find cell service and call dispatch. We were able to insert myself and a volunteer climber via helicopter at the base, climb up to the party, package and lower the subject to the ground, and perform a helicopter hoist extraction. The climber was in the hospital within five hours of his accident. Without the improved cell coverage, he would’ve been hanging suspended on the cliff all night. I'm not sure he could've survived his injuries.”

Read the ANAC report from the Wallace incident here.


Join the Club—United We Climb.

Get Accidents Sent to You Annually

Partner-level members receive the Accidents in North American Climbing book every year. Detailing the most noteworthy climbing and skiing accidents each year, climbers, rangers, rescue professionals, and editors analyze what went wrong, so you can learn from others’ mistakes.

Rescue & Medical Expense Coverage

Climbing can be a risky pursuit, but one worth the price of admission. Partner-level members receive $7,500 in rescue services and $5,000 in emergency medical expense coverage. Looking for deeper coverage? Sign up for the Leader level and receive $300k in rescue services.


Sign Up for AAC Emails

Eleanor Davis, Humble Mountaineer

Eleanor Davis (sitting) and Eleanor Bartlett atop Sentinel Peak (part of Pikes Peak). Photo courtesy of the Bartlett Collection, AAC Library.

The First Female Ascent of the Grand Teton, and What It Means to Discover a Ghost in the Archives

By Hannah Provost

More than teaching me something revolutionary about climbing history, the archives that hide Eleanor Davis taught me about myself. 

Without knowing it, I went into this project wanting a particular story to unfold. I wanted Eleanor Davis, an objectively important woman to climbing history, to reveal her secrets, and for those secrets to justify the philosophical importance of climbing. I wanted to hear an echo of myself from a century ago—to confirm that there is some deeply meaningful reason to climb—and to hear it from a woman, a legacy I could make meaningful and specific to me. But not all climbing conversations are revolutionary. Similar to the mundane spray of beta and grade debate that we often come across today, Eleanor Davis recollections focused on memorable moments of snarkiness, on minor crises, on the character of her climbing partners—not a revolutionary narrative of what climbing means. 

Instead, they are simply memories of a personal relationship to climbing and the mountains. 

Eleanor Davis is largely a ghost in the archives. But we do know a few key things. August 27th, 2023, was the centennial of her ascent of the Grand Teton, the first female ascent of this iconic mountain. Davis was also the second half of the ascent team for the FA of the 50 Classic Climb Ellingwood Ledges—though you wouldn’t know it by the name. Other than these two proud ascents, and seemingly only one photo of her atop a summit sitting beside Albert Ellingwood, her story is largely unwritten and undocumented. As the centennial approached, and I heard about upcoming celebrations of this historic moment, I wanted to contribute to changing that. I wanted to uncover her story—and have it transform our understanding of female mountaineering, of course. 

From left to right: Albert Ellingwood, Barton Hoag, and Eleanor Davis on the summit of Pyramid Peak,1919, Courtesy of Hoag Family, Bueler Collection, AAC Library.

Through the American Alpine Club’s Library, I got access to two interviews with Eleanor Davis that rarely see the light of day. Researcher Jan Robertson had conducted a series of interviews with important female mountaineers for her book project, The Magnificent Mountain Women. When Robertson interviewed Eleanor, she was 99, and would live for 8 more years. I combined this interview with an oral history with Eleanor Davis, taken in 1983 for History Colorado. Though the audio for the interview was incomprehensible, the notes taken of the interview were very illuminating. 

The Dulfersitz method of rappelling. Photo Courtesy of the CMC Collection.

Weaving in and out of threads of conversation, the audio of the interview from 1985 is cluttered with historic nuggets. Davis was one of Albert Ellingwood’s main climbing partners for years, and her casual references to him belie the massive impact his climbing would have. Ellingwood is credited for being the first person to substantially utilize rope systems and other “proper rock climbing technique” in Colorado, and many times, Davis was in the rope party or repeated the difficult new routes that Ellingwood was putting up. Davis meandered through details of biking to the mountains when there was gas-rations during the Depression, and recounted that when Ellingwood first taught them how to rappel with the Dulfersitz method, that “we thought it was fun but sort of silly too,” what with how slow you had to go to avoid rope burns. I reveled in the details that put our modern world into perspective: apparently Davis didn’t enjoy climbing in a skirt, like most women of the day, and instead had her dressmaker turn her climbing skirt into knickerbockers, or baggy pants gathered at the knee. She didn’t use a sleeping bag but instead surplus army blankets and a tarp. She mentioned jello as a key food for such outings—I think we should bring this trend back. But it wasn’t all grit and toughness—Eleanor and Albert hated alpine starts and often got back in the dark, or slept on a rock ledge when they got benighted. 

Davis swore she never took a fall when climbing, and that the only climbing accident she ever witnessed was rockfall hitting her friend Jo Deutschbein in the head when a party climbing above dislodged some choss. Yet she was less interested in analyzing accidents that really did happen, and instead was more intrigued by the drama of a potentially tall tale. Her friend Eleanor Bartlett always insisted that Albert Ellingwood and Bee Rogers were struck by lightning when the group was climbing Blanca Peak, resulting in a fall—though the effects of the strike must have been temporary, because Davis, being the last member of the party, never was sure if Bartlett’s tale was true. 

Eleanor Davis climbed with Agnes Vaille and Betsy Cowles, two mountaineers who are hidden in the archives nearly as much as Davis. But rather than list their accomplishments together, what Davis remembered were their personalities—they were intellectual, wise, and Betsy threw great parties. Before Cowles got married, Davis remembers her saying “Oh Eleanor, I’m marrying a wonderful man. And he likes the mountains too, and that’s just frosting on the cake.” 

Despite her extensive experience, and her preference for Ellingwood as a partner, Davis occasionally had to fight to be taken seriously as a mountaineer. On a trip to the Arapaho Peaks, she was told that only a “very select group could go on the North Peak.” She responded, “Well I’m very select.” Her confidence must have won her some points, or perhaps our gear really does tell much about our experience or gumbiness—they looked at her shoes and her camping equipment, and determined that perhaps she was right. She summited Arapaho without a hitch. 

Photo Credit: Ben Farrar

Even when it came to reflecting on her ascent of the Grand Teton, in 1923, all she had for me was a minor crisis. She and Ellingwood had climbed out on a ridge on their stomachs, and Ellingwood needed a leg up. So Davis leaned over to give him a shoulder to stand up on, knocking her glasses off in the process, sending them skittering down clear to the glacier below. Thankfully, Davis mainly needed the glasses for reading, and could get along fine without them, as evidently they made the summit—and made history. 

When I first listened to these scattered stories, I was a little disappointed. But as I sifted through her stories, and read and listened to them again and again, I started to recognize a certain gleam to them. Eleanor Davis was a woman who did extraordinary things for her time, and yet she valued the ordinary—the humble minutia of what makes climbing so rich as a life experience. 

I am not a climber who does extraordinary things for my time. Most of us aren’t. Most of us think our climbing partners are funny, and have to stand up for ourselves occasionally to get taken seriously, and have minor-crises, not epics—just like Davis. Yet often, I am dissatisfied with that. 

Getting to know Eleanor Davis, from the few archives I could find, made me really like her—her spunk, her genuine glee when she mentioned the mountains, her care for her climbing partners. Getting to know Eleanor Davis also made me learn a lesson I’ve been needing to learn again and again from climbing: What gets us to the top of the pitch, or the mountain, is incomparable to someone else’s reasons. Perhaps that's why Davis was so humble about her accomplishments. She herself didn’t need anything grand to come from the Grand—because it was already there, in the minutia.


Rewind the Climb

The First Ascent of Mt. Vinson

A Story from the AAC Archives

by Grey Satterfield

When inspiration for our next climbing trip strikes, we’re flooded with options to seek out every last possible detail. We pour over guidebooks with full-page spreads of color topos. We log on to Mountain Project and read about every route on the cliff. We find YouTube videos with move-by-move beta of the routes and boulders we want to try. Then we hop on Google Maps and get to-the-minute estimates of how long it will take to get there. We whip out our phone and get a hyper-detailed forecast with temps, wind speed, humidity, and anything else we’d ever care to know about the weather.

By the time we arrive, there’s no mystery. We’ve discovered everything there is to know.

That wasn’t always the case. In 1966 the American Alpine Club sent ten American climbers into the heart of the unknown: Antarctica. Read the full story here and explore photos and artifacts from the expedition.

The Prescription—August 2023

We are about to enter the prime big-wall season for Yosemite Valley, so this month we’re featuring a big-wall mishap. Last year, a solo aid climber suffered a serious leader fall on a classic Yosemite wall. He used a bit of know-how and perseverance to help effect his own rescue. This report will appear in the upcoming 2023 edition of Accidents in North American Climbing.

Fall on Rock

Yosemite National Park, Washington Column

On June 28, at 10:59 a.m., Yosemite Dispatch received a report of a 42-year-old male who had taken an approximately 50-foot fall on The Prow (V 5.8 C2) on Washington Column. The climber’s plan had been a multi-day, aid-solo ascent. On the second pitch, the climber fell, ripped rock protection, and struck a ledge. He recalled, “I felt the sensation of falling—it was so sudden and so fast. Then I remember hitting a ledge hard, bouncing, sliding. I remember hitting two more small ledges on the way down.”

Washington Column. The Prow is a classic aid route and excellent primer for El Cap. It climbs the smooth, golden plaque of rock on the right side of the formation. Photo: xRez Studio

The climber was finally caught by his rope. He had sustained closed injuries to his head, knee, and ankle. He also had one open injury to his thigh that he tied off with an improvised tourniquet. He wrote, “I could not breathe in all the way. Possible lung injury—it felt like fractured ribs. Can’t do anything about that, other than controlled breathing. Next, I looked around and saw the deep laceration on my inner left thigh. This one I was worried about! I had flesh hanging out that I put back in, and I stopped the bleeding with my bandana. Then I checked my limbs. The hands, feet, neck, and back seemed okay.”

He began to ascend his rope in order to reach his cell phone to call for help. He recalled, “I had to get my phone from my haulbag, which was above me about 50 feet. I thought, if I were to get rescued it would be easier for YOSAR to get me from the ground and not on the side of the wall. I did not have my jumars with me because I was leading. So, I used two prusiks, one that I had and the second one that doubled as my belt for my chalk bag. I untangled myself from the ropes, backed myself up with a Grigri, and began the painful journey up to my phone. I finally arrived at the belay station [and the phone], quickly set up for a rappel, fixed both the lead and haul line, and got down to the beginning of the climbing, which starts at the top of a 4th-class section.”  

The YOSAR hasty team located him at the top of the 4th class and provided necessary care. Soon a technical rescue team of four arrived and rigged to lower the injured climber down to the bottom of the cliff. From an open, grassy area between the South Face and Astroman routes, the climber was short-hauled by helicopter and transferred to a hospital.

Editor’s Note: In 2016, another climber fell from a similar section of aid on the nearby South Face route, when a cam pulled from a flared piton scar. That climber also ripped several pieces before coming to a stop. Take extra care placing cams in pin scars. Offset nuts, offset cams, and Totem cams often have superior holding power in these flared/grooved placements. Read the 2016 report.

The first few pitches of The Prow follow classic yet tricky piton-scarred cracks and corners. Extra care must be taken when placing gear in such flared placements. Photo by Ryan Meyers.

Analysis

“A piece for you and a piece for Mom,” as they say. Climbing above ledges is a heads-up moment—the threat of falling and getting traumatically injured is very real. As climbers, what can we do to make climbing above ledges safer? Backing up pieces is one option. Also, be aware of how much slack is in your system.

Other takeaways:

Bring a medical kit. A light medical kit while climbing could be a life saver. Ideally, it is never used, but it’s always wise to be prepared for an accident. A little tape, some pain meds, and gauze go a long way.

Practice and be familiar with self-rescue techniques. During this rescue, the injured climber did an excellent job of helping himself. Even after sustaining several injures, he was able to improvise gear, ascend his line, and rappel down the cliff. His self-rescue skills made the whole operation much faster and more efficient. Study self-rescue skills and practice with friends, or consider taking a self-rescue course.

Climb with a partner. While some enjoy the extra challenge of climbing alone, there’s no denying that aid soloing introduces more risk and complexity to a climb. Consider climbing with a partner for a safer climb, or at least acknowledge the added risk of climbing alone. Is it worth it?

The climber offered some final thanks and advice for others: “I cannot thank YOSAR, all the medical professionals, and all my friends and family who helped me and are helping through this event. I feel that even though being super prepared is a must, life just happens! I encourage all climbers to learn basic self-rescue skills.”

(Source: Yosemite National Park Climbing Rangers.)


Shop the ANAC Collection


With three spotters and five crash pads, Emily Diamond can safely launch into the crux of Heartbreak Hotel (V2). Photo by Pete Takeda.

From the Editor: On the Small(er) Rocks

I’m a week into a bouldering trip to Squamish. It’s peak season in terms of number of climbers, but it’s a little early for good conditions, that brief period in which cool temperatures converge with low humidity.

Bouldering is my first love. As a teenager, I started climbing in an abandoned quarry. Over the years I would learn that the spirit of climbing is in its movement and all I would need learn of any style of ascent could be traced back to those boulders. We wore painter’s pants and carbon rubber (non-sticky) high-tops called EB’s—pretty much the only performance rock shoe of the time. This was in the pre-pad days and spotting was unheard of. While bouldering, I managed to suffer my first serious accident—fracturing my leg at the age of 16.

Today, while topping out a classic highball, I have a half-dozen pads below, along with a handful of attentive spotters. That said, I am reminded that climbing on the small(er) stones, though generally regarded as safe, arguably holds a higher injury potential than any other facet of climbing. My reasoning is:

1. Move for move, bouldering is the most difficult game in climbing.

2. Bouldering is quite popular and exposes the largest number of climbers to the largest number of falls.

3. Every bouldering fall is a ground fall. 

4. Crowds can create a false sense of security.

5. The uninhibited and maximal physical effort demanded by bouldering can draw attention from critical peripheral matters, like pad placement, spotting, and falling.

Boulderers hit the ground more than in any other genre. While these accidents do not incur fatalities (at least that I am aware of), nor prompt spectacular rescues, they do have a huge impact on our community.

I encourage anyone experiencing or witnessing a bouldering accident to report them here.

While we annually publish a few bouldering accidents—the vast majority of them result in lower-leg and/or wrist/arm injuries, and the vast majority self-rescue—obtaining data is important. It is prudent to reinforce best practices. Read more on bouldering safely here.


Sign Up for AAC Emails

Prescription—July

Mt. Assiniboine is nicknamed the "Matterhorn of the Rockies." Both peaks share an imposing geometry—and plenty of loose limestone. On August 12, 2022, a climber fell to his death (yellow line) from the popular and “moderate” North Ridge route after slipping from a slick handhold. Photo courtesy of Parks Canada

Fatal Slip on Rock | Climbing Unroped

British Columbia, Assiniboine Provincial Park

On August 12, 2022, a party of two climbers left the Hind Hut to ascend the North Ridge of Mt. Assiniboine (AD 5.5). By late morning, they had reached one of the steeper upper steps at about 3,500 meters (11,482 feet). The pair had soloed everything up to this point and arrived several minutes apart. The first climber to arrive (Climber 1) assessed the next step and determined they would likely use a rope due to the steep angle and sloping nature of some of the holds. When Climber 2 arrived, the pair took a break and considered their options. Meanwhile, a separate party downclimbed the step. This party was unroped.

After watching the other party downclimb, Climber 2 decided he would try soloing the step and started up the pitch while Climber 1 packed the rope. As Climber 2 started up, Climber 1 watched him grab a sloping hold, slip, and fall down the north face. He fell out of sight. Climber 1 tried to gain a better vantage point by carefully climbing to the top of the rock step but was not able to see his partner. He then triggered an SOS on his satellite communication device. At the top of the step, he met a guided group on their way down. The guide radioed for assistance and helped Climber 1 down to a flat ledge. After communicating with the rescue team, it was determined that the guided group would remain with Climber 1 and wait for a rescue.

A team arrived by helicopter approximately one hour later and located Climber 1 and the guided group. Two other guided parties were located near the summit, and the deceased, fallen climber was located at approximately 3,300 meters (10,826’). After surveying the scene, it was determined that all the parties would be removed prior to accessing the fallen climber, in order to minimize rockfall hazard to the rescuers below. All climbers were flown or slung down to the Hind Hut, and the fallen climber was then accessed and slung down to the hut as well.

The uninjured climber who lost his partner to a fatal fall waits for rescue below the steep upper step on the North Ridge of Mt Assiniboine. Photo courtesy of Parks Canada

Analysis

The North Ridge of Mt. Assiniboine is often soloed due to its low technical difficulty. However, it requires a great deal of care and experience to climb safely. The route is very exposed, and a route-finding mistake can quickly elevate the technical grade. Loose, sloping, or slippery rock is common. While the route was dry on this day, snow, ice, or verglas are common in the upper sections.

While we cannot know with certainty why Climber 2 decided to solo the steep step, prior to the ascent he had expressed interest in climbing the route unroped. His decision may have been influenced by watching the other unroped party. Fatigue and limited technical rock climbing experience may have also played a part. Whatever influenced his decision, this incident highlights the risks involved in soloing exposed terrain. Easy terrain can prove fatal.

Communications during this incident were very good, in large part due to the guided parties (who had radios) and a satellite communication device. The rescue team was able to coordinate the pickup of the three groups, thereby eliminating the potential for human-generated rockfall during the recovery. It is not always possible to remove other climbing parties from an accident scene. If you find yourself in a situation where a rescue is occurring nearby or below you, it is very important to remain stationary or move with extreme care to prevent rockfall hazard. (Source: Parks Canada.)

This accident is eerily similar to another we reported in 2017.


Resources for Loss

Climbing is inherently dangerous, but that does not make loss easier. If you are struggling after the loss of a loved one, check out our Climbing Grief Fund Directory. Whatever you are facing, we believe you are worthy of hope, effective therapy, and access to the best mental health resources.


Updates on Auto Belays

In January 2023, we reported an auto belay accident that sadly occurs with some frequency. This accident had a happy ending and contained a powerful lesson.

Last month, the Climbing Wall Association (CWA) released updated Auto Belay Guidance in hope of reducing auto belay incidents and improve the culture of responsibility in the sport of climbing. The CWA is a trade association dedicated to protecting, connecting, and educating the indoor climbing industry.

Along with its updated guidance, the CWA released a commissioned study conducted by Prof. Jon Heshka of Thompson Rivers University, titled “Understanding Climber Behaviour in Climbing Gyms.” The study sheds light on climbers’ behavior and attitudes toward auto belay usage and climbing gyms in general.


Shop the ANAC Collection


Join the Club—United We Climb.

Get Accidents Sent to You Annually

Partner-level members receive the Accidents in North American Climbing book every year. Detailing the most noteworthy climbing and skiing accidents each year, climbers, rangers, rescue professionals, and editors analyze what went wrong, so you can learn from others’ mistakes.

Rescue & Medical Expense Coverage

Climbing can be a risky pursuit, but one worth the price of admission. Partner-level members receive $7,500 in rescue services and $5,000 in emergency medical expense coverage. Looking for deeper coverage? Sign up for the Leader level and receive $300k in rescue services.


Sign Up for AAC Emails

Assisted Braking Devices

Assisted Braking Devices have been a part of American climbing for a long time. By 1992, American climbers and belayers were alternately condemning and commending the new tools, and most of those perceptions persist today.  In many cases, the GriGri is unfairly given credit for securing belays in an unprecedented way.  In other cases, the GriGri is maligned as symbolic of complacency, poor belaying, and laziness.  Over the years, American belayers have over-heard epithets like:

“The GriGri promotes lazy belaying.”

“The GriGri has an automatic brake.  You can’t mess it up.”

“GriGris might be great for toproping or sport climbing, but it’s unsafe to use them for trad.”

“GriGris are the industry standard for belaying a toprope.”

These statements and the reductive thinking behind them have inhibited Assisted Braking Devices from taking their logical place in American climbing. This article will seek to unpack and explain some of the historical and cultural underpinnings of assisted braking devices like the GriGri in order to explore how these devices have gotten to the point that they are neither appreciated for their contributions to climbing nor adequately respected for their complexity and intricacy.  

To get there, we will need to clarify the current and historic role of backups in any technical system related to climbing. We will need to explain how these tactics long preceded the invention of the GriGri, because they are still just as important in the era of assisted braking devices as they were before GriGris hit the scene in the early ’90s.  Then, every climber will be better equipped to discover what Assisted Braking Devices offer to the overall security of a belay or rappelling system.

This article will qualify the use of Assistant Braking Devices according to the following principles:

  • Assisted Braking Devices, when used correctly, provide a reliable backup to any belayer.  

  • Assisted Braking Devices, when used correctly, offer the greatest movement economy when delivering slack to a lead climber.

  • Unlike Manual Braking Devices (like any tube style device), ABDs have widely variable performance characteristics from one model to the next.

Backups

In climbing, we use backups all the time.  We use them as an integral part of our systems and we often use words like redundancy and security when we’re talking about backups.  In every case, the basic concept is the same: a climber relies on one system to stay safe, and there is another system that acts as a back-up in case the primary system fails or malfunctions.  

Let’s look at some of the most common examples:

Climbing

climbing backups.jpg


Rappelling

Anchoring

Backups are a great idea, and they help us have a lot more confidence that we’re going to survive an error, a slip, an oversight, or a freak occurrence.  When we choose not to use a backup, we’re often flirting with unnecessary risks.

Let’s look at some examples:

Free Soloing

Lowering with an MBD without a backup

lowering sans backup.jpg

It is not common to think of backups in this way. However, when a climber analyzes the role of backups and looks at all climbing practices through that lens, it is difficult to escape the conclusion that holding a climber’s weight with a manual braking device and lowering a climber with that same device is tantamount to free-soloing. Unlike free-soloing, though, belaying usually involves two people; they are both complicit in this arrangement.

Before Assisted Braking Devices were an option, conservative belay teams relied on backups that are still options today. 

belaying; how to belay; how to back up a belay

Since climbers are often standing around in groups of three or four, it's easy to offer a backup belay.

backing up a belay; how to belay

If a backup belayer is not standing behind the belay device, in the braking plane of the device, the value of the backup might be nominal.

backup knots; rock climbing knots

These backup knots, tied every 10 to 15 feet, provide a backup to the belayer when she does not have someone available to provide a backup belay.

belay back up; friction hitch

While a friction hitch can provide an adequate backup for lowering, it takes practice to tie this hitch while holding a climber,  and it won't work on every harness' leg loop design.

A careful observer of these traditional forms of backup will notice that an incompetent belayer (or pair of belayers) still has the capacity to injure a climber. So, an unstated but obvious addendum to the application of any backup to any system is that incompetence is presumed to be negated. It’s an important distinction to make. Gross incompetence can override all reasonable backup systems, and safeguarding against incompetence quickly becomes impracticable.  

Belaying systems presume functional cooperative competence as a starting point, and backups safeguard unforeseen forces and circumstances that can unexpectedly incapacitate a belayer. So, it’s important to combine fundamental belay principles to any belay device, regardless of the braking apparatus. All devices require a belayer to keep a brake hand on at all times, slide or alternate the brake hand only when the rope is in the braking plane of the device, and use the hand wrist and arms according to their natural strength.

Assisted Braking Device = Backups

An assisted braking device, operated within the fundamental principles of belaying, is an especially valuable tool if climbing teams prioritize backups. If a belayer takes an honest self-assessment of all the things that might thwart the best intentions of a diligent and competent belay, then it is difficult to justify not prioritizing backups. It is perfectly reasonable, and perfectly human, to accept that any number of sights, sounds, and distractions compete for a belayer’s attention. Other climbers, friends and acquaintances, passersby, flora and fauna, changes in weather, they all distract even the most committed belayers. In these perfectly predictable and likely circumstances, the assisted braking mechanism of an ABD can provide the ready-to-go attentiveness that the belayer momentarily lacks.

More persuasively, there are occurrences in the climbing environment that can easily incapacitate a belayer, regardless of their position relative to the climber (above or below). If a belayer is willing to indulge the imagination, these hazards quickly accumulate:

  • Rockfall generated by climbers above in a separate party

  • Rockfall generated by a climber in one’s own party

  • Natural rockfall

  • Icefall (for all the same reasons)

  • Avalanche (for all the same reasons)

  • Electricity of all kinds

  • Aggressive Fauna (stinging insects and arachnids, snakes, large predators)

  • Aggressive Flora (treefall, deadfall, prickling plants, poisonous plants)

  • A leader climber falling and impacting the belayer

  • Medical problems (allergies, asthma, diabetes, seizures, other chronic conditions)

Accident archives and anecdotal evidence demonstrate, again and again, that the selection of an ABD provides belayers and climbers with a backup should any of the aforementioned hazards incapacitate the belayer.

On one notable example, a pair of proficient climbers had a spectacularly close call in Eldorado Canyon in 2008. In much the same manner catalogued above, the leader climber dislodged a large rock during a lead fall.  That rock fell and hit the belayer.  The belayer, having selected an ABD, managed to arrest the leader’s fall despite the severe injuries he sustained.  Had the belayer selected a manual breaking device instead, like an ATC, without any sort of backup, the leader would have likely been severely injured as well. As it turned out, the leader was able to run for help and assist rescuers to evacuate his partner.

climbing accident report; rock fall accident

An ABD is not a panacea for mishap or incident, but it does provide all belay teams, like this team from Eldorado Canyon, with a margin of error. Surely, that’s an adequate incentive for any climbing team to learn more about ABDs, and it’s a sound reason to learn to use them correctly. 

Movement Economy while Lead Belaying

Many assisted braking devices offer the greatest economy of movement when delivering slack to the lead climber. Even though many belayers assert that ABDs have cumbersome mechanics resulting in a jammed rope and an inability to provide adequate slack, most of these assertions are based on a lack familiarity with the techniques needed to use an ABD to belay a lead climber.

The key to this movement economy involves a stationary brake hand. It might be helpful to see fundamental belaying with an MBD contrasted with an ABD to demonstrate this concept explicitly.

giving slack while belaying; belaying with an ATC
how to belay with an ATC
how to belay with an ATC; break hand

Many ABDs, by contrast, keep the brake hand stationary, eliminating an entire step in the belay cycle. As result, there can be a 50% increase in overall efficiency when the belayer delivers slack to the leader.

belaying with a grigri; how to belay
belaying with a grigri; how to belay

This movement economy is especially useful on easy or moderate terrain, when the leader is unlikely to fall. One of the greatest hazards to the leader in that terrain might be getting tripped or snagged by an inadequate supply of slack from the belayer.  An imperative to provide adequate slack is also common on low-angled terrain when the leader tends to move in long strides. That kind of movement necessitates adequate slack because the leader’s balance is often precarious and unstable. In any case, it may be valuable for a belayer to opt for a belay tool and technique that provides slack to the leader as efficiently as possible while also adhering to the fundamental principles of belaying.

Variations among ABDs

While the Petzl GriGri tends to represent the entire genre of ABDs due to its popularity and history, it is not the only ABD available. A careful analysis of the various functions, applications, and performance characteristics of each ABD should help belayers make an informed choice when they select a device. 

Applications

ABDs are typically deployed in the following contexts, although many of these applications are not necessarily recommended by the manufacturer. Manufacturers tend to create recommended use guidelines that pertain to the most common usage, and any application outside of that usage is implicitly discouraged. Nevertheless, many climbers rely on these kinds of applications, so it will be important to disclose the nature of each application, even though the manufacturers may not. These applications will be listed from most to least common. An ABD’s ability to perform these applications and functions help climbers decide when and how to use one tool or another.

1.     Belaying a counterweighted toprope. In a toproping scenario, ABDs are commonly deployed by institutional programs, climbing gyms, and professional climbing instructors. The values of an ABD as a backup are especially conspicuous to these users.

2.     Belaying a leader in a counterweight arrangement. The belayer’s body weight anchors a leader’s ascent in protection increments. Sometimes this arrangement is distorted by the use of a ground anchor or a connection that protects the belayer from an upward pull. An ABD can predictably increase the impact forces generated by lead falls. Impact forces are measurably increased on the belayer’s body, the climber’s body, and the protection/anchor. In most scenarios lead climbing scenarios, however, the differences in impact force would not have catastrophic consequences.  

3.     Rappelling. If a rope is somehow fixed or counterweighted, an ABD can be used as rappel tool on a single strand of rope.

single rope rappel; rappelling with a grigri; how to rappel

When a single strand of rope is fixed, blocked, or counterweighted, an ABD can be used for rappelling.

"Rappelling with GRIGRI takes training, and it is important to system check ensuring proper rigging and connection."-Petzl

4.     Rope Ascension. If a rope is somehow fixed or counterweighted, an ABD can be used as a progress capture in an ascension system.

ascension systems for climbing; rope ascension

Many climbing instructors, like this one, learn to use an ABD for rope ascension.  As an improvised progress capture, these tools can be effective.

5.     Direct Belay. ABDs are often used by belayers to top-belay a second climber directly off the anchor. When top-belaying, direct belays are particularly advantageous. ABDs create unique challenges when belaying a leader in direct belay configurations.

belaying from above with a grigri

Direct belay applications must allow an ABD a full and uninterrupted range of motion.  If the device is laying on a slab or crammed against a protruding feature, the assisted braking function can be compromised.

Performance Characteristics.  

ABD manufacturers will each try to convince consumers that their products represent the most secure, reliable, easy-to-use device on the market. The truth is that climbing has diverse contexts with diverse environments, climates, and risks. That diversity is further compounded by the number people who climb: big people, small people, big hands, small hands, right-handed people, and left-handed. Some people are missing digits or limbs, and that might make one product more advantageous than the next.

When combined with function and the need for multi-functionality, each device will also have an array of performance characteristics that depend on each individual user’s style, body type, and unique challenges. Asking the following questions of every ABD will guide a user to the right model.  

Stationary Brake Hand: Does the manufacturer recommend a belay technique that allows the brake hand to remain stationary? Many devices do allow for this movement economy, and it is one of the most persuasive reasons to select an ABD in the first place.

Mechanical Braking or Passive Braking:  Is the assisted braking function mechanical or passive?  Mechanical Assisted Braking Devices, like the GriGri 2 or Vergo, have moving cams, clamps or swivels that pin the brake strand of the rope.  They are typically bigger and heavier than their passive counterparts. Their performance can be challenged in wet, snowy, or icy conditions. They can provide smooth lowers, multi-functionality, and reliable braking, though.

Passive Assisted Braking Devices exaggerate the “grabbing” quality of any aperture or tube style belay device. The “grabbing” effect is so severe, it effectively brakes the rope, providing the belayer with a backup.

Ergonomics:  Does the recommended use of the tool force the belayer to sustain unnatural, painful, or uncomfortable body positions?  Test the ergonomics of a device in all the application contexts. For example, the body mechanics involved in using a GriGri 2 are quite natural and comfortable for rappelling and counterweight belaying. But, lowering with a GriGri in a direct belay configuration requires an awkward manipulation of the GriGri 2 handle.  

Reliability of Assisted Braking Function:  Does the Assisted Braking Function perform reliably in the widest range of conditions and circumstances?  What are the known malfunction conditions? No ABD is automatic and 100% reliable.  They all have quirky and unique failure mechanisms that range from interference in the braking function’s range of motion, interference caused by precipitation (frozen or otherwise), inappropriate carabiner selection, or rope entrapment. Manufacturers don’t always advertise these failure mechanisms. 

Multi-functionality:  Does the device perform more than one function in climbing?  Do all the functions of the tool fall under the device's recommended use?  Are some functions discouraged, or are they simple NOT encouraged?

Smooth lowering and rappelling:  When lowering and rappelling, is the belayer able to control the rate of descent and keep that rate constant, without sudden halts or acceleration?  The ability to adjust the rate and the consistency of the rate varies from one tool to the next, and it can be especially inconsistent when using ropes at the extreme ends of the recommended range, ropes that are wet, or with smaller statured people.

Ambidextrous Usage:  Is the device effectively unusable by a right or left-handed belayer?  Does it function equally well with either handedness?  Many devices do not offer a compelling left-handed technique. Left-handed belayers often learn to use their right hands to belay because there is not a recommended technique, or the recommended technique is not as effective as simply learning the right-handed technique.

Size and Weight:  How big and how heavy is the tool?  Are there lighter options that accomplish the same functions and have the same performance characteristics otherwise?  In climbing, the size and weight of equipment can often make a big difference to the overall enjoyment and success of the team. All other things being equal, why not have a lighter, more compact tool?

Rope twisting: Does the device alter the plane of the rope’s travel?  When ropes move continuously in the same plane of travel, the rope is less likely to twist.  When that plane alters, say from a horizontal to vertical plane, twisting the rope is the unavoidable consequence.

Easy to learn, easy to teach:  How long will it take me to learn to use the tool?  Devices that are not ergonomic, have intricate parts and setups, and operate differently than other tools can often be more difficult for a belayer to learn to use correctly.  It shouldn’t take months and months of practice to learn to use a piece of belay hardware.

types of belay devices

EDUCATE: New Trends in Climbing Accidents—Summer 2023 Edition

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


Anchors

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

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

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

HISTORY OF ANCHORING

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

history of climbing anchors

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

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

modern trad anchors

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

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

belaying a follower

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

belaying from below and above

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

ANCHORING PRINCIPLES AND ACRONYMS

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

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

Before calling “off belay” she reviews her handiwork:

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

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

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

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

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

  • She’s built a SERENE anchor.

SERENE anchors; EARNEST climbing anchors

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

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

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

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

anchoring acronyms

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

THE MYTH OF EQUALIZATION

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

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

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

equalizing anchors

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

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

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

quad anchor

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

how to build a climbing anchor

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

WHY DO ANCHORS FAIL?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

FAILURE SCENARIOS

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

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

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

avoid anchors with only small cams

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

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

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

self-adjusting anchor systems; sliding x; magic x; quad anchor

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

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

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

potential extensions are potential shock loads in rock climbing anchors

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

MORE COMPLEX ANCHORS

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

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

complex trad anchors; complex climbing anchors

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

 

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

how to build a trad anchor

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

 

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

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

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

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

THE TRIPLE S: FUNDAMENTALS OF COMPLEX ANCHORS

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Gym to Crag

PC: Mo Beck climbing; photo by Will Saunders

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

Gym to Crag: New Questions to Consider

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

Gym to Crag: Stewardship and Environment

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

Gym to Crag: Interacting with Others

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


Snow Climbing

Know the Ropes: Fundamentals to Save Your Life

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

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

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

cause of snow travel accidents

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

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

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


USING YOUR FEET

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

Duck Walk

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

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

step kicking; snow travel; mountaineering; how to climb snowy mountains

Step Kicking

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

Diagonal Ascent

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

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

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

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

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

Effective Crampon Use

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

French Technique (Flat Foot)

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

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

American Technique (Hybrid or Pied Troisième)

demonstrating American technique of walking with crampons; how to use crampons; mountaineering

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

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

Austrian Technique (Frontpointing)

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

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

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


USING AN ICE AXE

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

Ice Axe Choice

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

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

Leashes

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

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

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

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

how to use an ice axe; how to use a piolet

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

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

Self-Belay Position (Piolet Manche)

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

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

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

Anchor Position (Piolet Ancre)

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

Low, Middle and High Dagger Positions

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

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

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

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

Self-Arrest

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

arresting a fall on snow; how to arrest a fall on snow

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

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

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

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

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

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


DESCENDING ON SNOW

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

Plunge Step

descending a snow field; mountaineering

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

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

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

Shuffle Step

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

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

Downclimb

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

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

Descending with Crampons

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

Glissading

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

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

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

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

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

SNOW CLIMBING STRATEGIES

snow climbing strategies; mountaineering

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

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

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

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

Timing the Climb

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

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

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

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

Making Good Choices

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

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



ABOUT THE AUTHORS

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

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