Heidi Pesterfield

Traditional Lead Climbing


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challenges you. If you run into trouble, you have little choice but to accept responsibility, get into action, and execute a solution. This is adventure.

      Conversely, on sport turf you connect the dots up a line of pre-placed bolts with few surprises. In what is essentially a gymnastic exercise, you can see every bolt—even the anchors at the top. You know exactly how many quickdraws to bring. You know that your partner will lower you to the ground when you’re ready—whether it be at the anchors or when you’re simply too spent to make the next move. This may be fun, but it’s not adventure.

      The risk-taking inherent in trad leading keeps commitment levels high. On a sport lead, if you’re climbing poorly or the weather takes a turn for the worse, you can almost always retreat with ease. This is rarely the case when you lead a trad route. While you may be able to retreat by lowering back down to the belay, you can’t depend upon it. Often there aren’t solid gear options left when you run out of steam. Sometimes the route traverses so much that lowering wouldn’t put you anywhere near your belayer. Most commonly you’ve used more than half the rope and a quick descent to the belay isn’t an option. A trad lead commitment to both the summit and your partner must be bona fide. You must always climb at your best because, if you don’t, your life may be at risk.

      The craft of the traditional lead is enticing because it provides vast opportunities for individual expression and creativity. Every gear-lead is itself a unique creation—a masterpiece, if you will. Free to place the pieces that you want, where you want, and when, you can stand or rest here or there. You can place a piece here if you’re short, or up there if you’re taller. You can muscle your way up the flake because you’re better at cracks, or tiptoe around it because you’re a slab master. You can jam the crack straight on, or lay it back. You can place two pieces because the move ahead looks difficult or the landing dangerous, or forgo protection for several feet when the terrain is less challenging and speed essential.

      A little creativity accomplishes a lot if unexpected and complex challenges arise on lead. With hard-won experience, a solid leader’s repertoire of solutions expands as his or her toolbox shrinks. Instead of relying on technology, experienced climbers solve problems with innovation. For example, when protection is difficult or sparse, trad leaders are challenged to create solutions with just a handful of resources. I’ve watched such leaders weave intricate chains of lead gear on routes rumored by novices to be void of protection, or runout. Similar to the way a master potter envisions infinite possibilities in a lump of clay, an experienced leader, fueled by a similar creative force, identifies safe pathways up seemingly blank stone canvases.

      A true master trad leader doesn’t need a slew of gadgets or the latest, greatest technical toy to get to the top of any climb. Self-rescue (see Chapter 8) epitomizes the concept of simplicity. A few cords, carabiners, and knots combined with knowledge of a few basic concepts is all you need to rescue yourself from any bad situation almost anywhere—quite amazing when you consider the amount of gear rescue professionals use in the frontcountry.

      I’ve learned the value of simplicity in climbing through varied experiences, some unpleasant. I think the one that really shifted my climbing approach to embrace a “less is more” attitude occurred several years ago in Yosemite Valley. One fall day a friend and I decided to climb the northwest face of Higher Cathedral Rock, a “moderate” Grade IV in the valley that spits overzealous climbers from its walls regularly like a slot machine. After a pre-dawn march to the base, we were disappointed to greet two Levi–clad gentlemen sporting a slim rack of Hexes and a few old forged Friends at the base of the route. I don’t even think they had belay devices. Arrogantly, we asked the team if they’d mind much if we went ahead of them. We were certain we would be the faster party, we told them. After all, my partner and I thought, we had the big cams we knew were essential for the notorious off-width near the top. Heck, these guys didn’t even have a pack. Politely one of them responded, “We won’t hold you up, if you don’t hold us up.” We were bummed but were forced into making peace with images of impatiently climbing on their heels, sharing cramped belay ledges, and a possible walk-off in the dark. In the end, only the latter came to pass. After the first pitch, we never saw the team again, and after a long, difficult day, we spent nearly the entire night finding our way down the tricky descent.

      The traditional gear-lead has numerous facets. With a number of priorities constantly jockeying for your attention as leader, your focus shifts rapidly between climbing movement, placing protection, and route finding. Each requires a degree of technical and physical prowess that is impossible without remaining calm and focused. Add to this list weather considerations, rack organization, partner communication, energy and gear conservation, rope positioning, runnering, evaluation of rock quality, and anchoring, and you can understand why many leaders are overwhelmed on their first few trad forays. The challenge lies in working toward careful prioritizing, attempting to remain flexible, and mastering the delicate skill of shifting from one concept to the other and back without sacrificing mindfulness.

      Friendships built within the complex emotional framework of a shared adventure are gifts of traditional climbing. Swapping leads on multipitch routes has fastforwarded more friendships than I can count. Even an afternoon of climbing single trad pitches can provide the basis of a lifetime friendship, opening the door to a sort of intimacy less common outside the realm of adventure. Here’s an analogy: Spending an afternoon sport cragging is like spending an afternoon on a guided tour with an acquaintance on a paved bike path in a city park. A day spent swinging leads on a multipitch trad climb is like sharing a maniacal rickshaw ride down the unpaved backstreets of Katmandu with another traveler, unsure if the driver is sober or knows your destination. As trad-climbing partners, you’re vulnerable and exposed to each other. Fear, joy, and trust meld to create an unforgettable experience. This quality of traditional leading makes time shared on the crags extremely precious and sacred, and traditional climbs memorable.

      Beyond its adventure, the one aspect that draws my heart to traditional climbing is access. Trad leading skills are key in ascending routes in some of the most spectacular environments on the planet. While there are some lovely sport climbing locales, many spires, towers, and ridges in wilderness settings can only be ascended by means of traditional gear routes. Long routes on such crags are generally incompatible with sport climbing simply because of logistics. The vast majority of established rock climbing routes in the world involve gear placement.

      The psychological fitness required of the trad leader involves a unique ability to concentrate on the task at hand, shift from one task to another, cope with fear and danger, and honor personal limitations.

      Concentration is a skill required of all leaders. Traditional leads in particular demand a climber’s utmost attention because even slight distractions can lead to dire consequences. Obstacles that make focusing difficult generally stem from internal distractions, holding us captive in either the past or the future. Your mind generates distractions that take a variety of forms. On some days, you wonder whether or not you have the skills to succeed on the chosen route. Other days you mentally rehash the argument you had with a loved one earlier in the day, thinking of all the things you should have said but didn’t. And sometimes your mind will avoid the present moment by creating lists—what to buy at the store for dinner, climbing areas you’d like to visit, routes you’d like to climb, jobs for which you’d like apply—and the lists go on.

      To lead climb effectively you need ways to screen out distractions. You could explore the finer points of stabilizing the mind through relaxation and breathing techniques. Meditating regularly can also improve concentration skills by enhancing awareness. As you develop the ability to relax on lead, you notice that in the present moment your busy mind stabilizes, your focus increases, and your performance becomes enhanced.