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On
Belay? Adam
Abraham
You
may hate saying it or feel like you don’t
need to say it, but forcing yourself to communicate
with a system of checks and balances is super key
to your safety, whether you’re a wide-eyed
newbie or a rock star (in your own mind of course).
Yeah, it’s bad enough being clumsy, inexperienced
and sporting the shiniest gear at the crag and
for some reciting those lines is akin to pinning
a Gumby badge on your chest, but if you don’t
know your own and your partner’s systems,
you shouldn’t be out there.
Which brings us back to a little thing called safety.
Climbing
is safe—as safe as you make it. You decide
whether you walk or are carried away from the crag,
so take ownership. Visually inspect your partner’s
knot, harness and belay device before each pitch. Check your gear and draws
regularly. If you climb at an area with fixed draws,
make sure they’re in good shape
before winging into space. Nylon has a life span, and new draws are cheaper
than medical bills.
Choose
your partners carefully. Some partners are better
spotters than belayers and some climbers are better
drinking buddies than climbing partners. Establish
a regular climbing partner versus tying in with anyone
who’ll go, or someone you barely know. Any
partner who spends most of his or her belay-time
socializing, digging through the pack, short-roping
or giving ankle-breaker catches is to be avoided.
Check
your knot. For tying in, you don’t need to
know anything other than the figure 8. Tied correctly,
the “8” will never untie unexpectedly.
While some complain about the 8 cinching tight after a few falls, it’s
far preferable to a knot that can untie itself without warning—and
if you’re too pumped to untie a knot, it’s time to find an easier
project.
Adam
Abraham
Adam
survived a 65-foot ground fall due to his bowline
untying but his body did not fare well—left
and right foot shattered, left and right ankle fractured,
left fibula and right wrist broken, L3 vertebra disintegrated
and L4 fractured. After seven surgeries, a cadaver’s
vertebra, three rods, a plate and 19 screws, Miracle
Boy continues to improve with remarkable strides.
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Like
Nothing Else Katie
Brown
A
One second you’re lounging in a bikini, and
the next you’ve just done a move you can’t
reverse. You no longer have the option of down
climbing; somehow you find yourself continuing
up, knowing that the higher you go, the farther
you’re going to fall.
There’s
no way out in soloing—and yet, there’s
always a way out in deep water soloing: the water,
way down there. It offers the feeling of climbing
tetherless—nothing between you and the cliff,
climbing free without the standard risk of free
soloing.
The
risk in deep water soloing comes from the fact
that if you do fall it means starting over and
trying again, from the very beginning. It means
committing to a route that will remain a mystery
until you top out. I imagine it’s
a bit like returning to the history of climbing: you fall and are subsequently
lowered to the ground. Each effort means starting from the bottom until reaching
your high
point, then moving into unknown territory.
There
is a purity to that kind of climbing, a purity
that you might not be able to experience if it
weren’t for deep water soloing. It’s
one thing to practice moves and use that knowledge to convince yourself
that you can climb a route, but it’s another
thing to not know what is coming and still climb
with that same belief, knowing a potential big
fall awaits.
In
deep water soloing you must simply let go and move
on the rock. It’s
about learning to take things as they come and not expect too much from
the rock, or from yourself. It’s about
being a solitary figure high up on a wall,
nothing between you and the waves waiting to
catch you.
Katie
Brown
These
days you might find Katie deep water soloing in Mallorca,
onsighting runout trad routes in Eldo or crimping
down at the VRG. She has always been inspired by
long, involved climbs and is still the only female
to have flashed two 5.13ds, Hydrophobia at Mont Grony,
Spain, and the Red’s Omaha Beach. Katie lives
in Colorado with her very cute little dog named Cody.
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A
Call to Arms
If
you don’t vote in an election, you can’t
criticize its outcome. Likewise, if you’re
unhappy with the management of your favorite climbing
area, you can:
a) Get involved by joining the Access Fund and your
Local Climbing Organization (LCO), or b) Shut your
pie-hole.
Get
involved—it’s the right thing to
do. Black Diamond supports the Access Fund as well
as our LCO, the Salt Lake Climbers’ Alliance,
which is an Access Fund Affiliate and focuses specifically
on crags in our region.
LCOs
and Access Fund Affiliates conserve and maintain
regional climbing areas through enhanced communication
with landowners and managers. They promote stewardship
and advocate shared, responsible use of the land.
Your involvement will enhance your LCO’s
efforts, portraying climbers as active, concerned
citizens whose goal it is to conserve resources.
Or,
look at it this way—your involvement ensures
that you get to keep climbing.
So
if you’re not supporting your Local Climbing
Organization, shame on you. With more than 70 LCOs
and Access Fund Affiliates around the country,
you can be sure there’s a group of climbers
working overtime to preserve access in your neck
of the woods.
And
if you’re not supporting the Access Fund,
put this catalog down and go sign up right now.
Learn
more about LCOs and Access Fund Affiliates at:
www.accessfund.org.
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