Climbing

What is Alpine Style?

/ Andrew Szalay / Leave a comment
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Alpine Style. (All rights reserved)

Alpine style is often mentioned and talked about in mountain climbing literature and guidebooks but it’s not always defined or understood by everyone except by alpinists and well-read armchair mountaineers. Let me try to explain it.

First off, it’s not about fashion. What you wear visiting Switzerland or Austria doesn’t get at the mountaineering matters that this blog discusses and certainly isn’t part of a mountaineer’s approach to alpine climbing.

Second, it’s important to recognize that there are a lot of different kinds of mountain climbing from various types of rock climbing to numerous types on routes covered in wintry conditions. Then there are subcategories for each based on the mountaineer’s style and approach to climbing the route. For example, with rock climbing some prefer sport climbing with pre-placed anchors while others prefer traditional or “trad” climbing where self-placed protection is set.

For big mountains and long routes, some climbers use a siege approach where camps are established and supplies are ferried and stashed along the way in caches. The route is connected by fixed ropes where climbing teams can ascend and descend as necessary to move a strong team on the summit. This method is often considered to be a conservative approach but is resource and time intensive. It can be applied to rock, wintry and mixed routes.

Alpine style climbing is contrasted to siege style ascents. The term originates from Europe’s Alps where the mountaineers of the 1800s ascended classic routes with the pack on their back, used one tent and moved camp as they went up and down the mountain. Today, some climbs are still considered alpine style in limited exceptions where alpinists use caches, fixed ropes in limited situations — such as around a bergschrund (where a glacier is separated from a mountain, often leaving a gap) — or acclimatizing high on another route on the same mountain. Climber and mountaineering historian Jonathan Waterman makes some of these limited exceptions in his reviews.

In it’s purest form, alpine style climbing is full of no-going-back commitments. This means climbing to the top, often with minimal gear, food and fuel, crossing thresholds, like severe overhangs where abseils are impossible, and sometimes sacrificing comfort, warmth, sleep and nourishment to obtain the objective. Walter Bonatti, Reinhold Messner and Steve House have all made such commitments on some of their most notable climbs. Climbers like House have even taken it to another level that some observers refer to as “fast and light” climbing.

I hope that helps explain it.

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Trying on Some Rock Climbing Shoes

/ Andrew Szalay / Leave a comment

I just dropped by one of my local outfitters to try on some rock climbing shoes, with a lot of research and advice from friends and readers like you.

Keep in mind, I don’t climb these days and see that improving only marginally. The whole reason I’m shopping for them is so later I can have the pair of old, broken-in pair dad ought to have when he brings his child to the gym or crag when they older and so I don’t have to keep using rentals. After all, I write a climbing blog… It seems that I’m supposed to own a pair!

So I tried on and compared three all within an amazing 15 minutes. It was that short because I dropped into the shop on a whim while passing the store en route to more important errands, so my observations might have been rushed, but as a trial run to test out some rock climbing shoes it was a well used 15 minutes!

I tried on what they had available in my price range — under $100 US. The Mad Rock Phoenix is probably the most affordable shoe at this shop for men so I tried them on first. Mad Rock wearers either love them or hate them. They fit well. Plenty of room and could tighten them as needed by adjusting the laces.

I liked the Scarpa Thunder lace up the most. It fit my foot well and my toes had room, but I can’t decide if they were too snug in the toe box — I touched the end with a slight curl. Wasn’t intolerable. They certainly felt like a higher quality shoe compared to the Phoenix!

The La Sportiva Mythos was above my limit, so I tried on the Nago with the silver strip instead. That strip looks funny. A friend recommended these to me, so I’m glad they work for him. They were similar to the Thunders in fit.

Unfortunately they didn’t have anything else close to my size in the Five Ten Coyote and they only carried the lace-up model. They also did not carry the Evolv Defy… both of which I was hoping to don.

I tested each of them as best I could by taking a few short steps in them and also standing on the benches’ edge with my toes and insides of my foot. I don’t think that gave me any real solid observations, or at least nothing glaringly problematic came from trying these things.

I then tried them all on for a second time to compare them better and I made some judgments. First off, I preferred the Scarpa Thunders. They were clearly my favorite in this group. But I couldn’t decided whether I wanted a bigger size and I was wearing the largest in stock. I like my toes well surrounded by the shoe, but even that is left to interpretation. The Mad Rock Phoenix suddenly felt not only lesser quality to the Thunders, but also sloppier — at least in that they had more room for my foot to slide around in, even when I tried on a smaller size. The Nago… er… I still think they look funny to me so I’ll evaluate them again later if necessary.

Thanks for stopping off again. If you enjoyed this post, please consider following the Suburban Mountaineer on Facebook or Twitter. Happy reading and carpe climb ’em!

If you’re looking for a new pair of rock climbing shoes and want to check back on my experience, read my last post on this subject by clicking here.

Troubles Finding the Right Rock Shoe

/ Andrew Szalay / 1 Comment

If you’ve been keeping up with my recent posts, you know I’m on a quest to find a new pair of rock climbing shoes. I’ve received some helpful advice from a variety of sources. Thanks in particular to some of my subscribers and Twitter followers!

My quest was recently likened to a mid-life crisis. I got a chuckle out of that. I’m hardly mid-life. But given a choice between a shiny new sports car and a shiny new rack, I’ll take the rack.

The reason it was likened to a mid-life crisis was that part of the reason I want rock climbing shoes is so when Wunderkind is older and we go to the local climbing gym or crag for some instruction, I’ll have my own broken-in, smelly, old model pair of shoes that someone that used to climb more often would have; the kind dad ought to have.

So, I need to gear-up. I’ve read confusing advice for fittings though and I’m not sure what applies to me. Some recommend that beginners find a flat shoe (meaning no downward curve to the shoe’s last) that is comfortable for your toes in the “toe box.” Others recommend that experienced climbers should get it a size or two too small where your toes form a fist, especially if they are made of leather so when they stretch they still are adequately snug. Being tight helps climbers keep contact, especially with tight holds. So which category I fit into I’m not sure. I’ve never been particularly skilled or advanced when I used to climb (I think 5.7, though I really don’t know.) When I used to wear my rentals, I always took a size that firmly held my foot and put the front of my toes touching the front of the shoe without having to curl them… Is that a bad idea? It’s always worked for me before.

Perhaps the biggest challenge is that while I want to have a shoe that Climbing magazine declared was an Editor’s Choice product, or something similarly recommended, I need a shoe that has good, sticky rubber and fits me. My toes always fit into Scarpas, but what about Five Tens, La Sportivas, Mammuts, Boreals and Mad Rocks? The challenge is compounded by the three local outfitters in my area (I know, I’m spoiled that way), because they only carry about six men’s shoes. And if I prefer the Velcro straps they might only carry the lace up model, for instance.

I’m going to continue my research and let you know what I find. I’m hearing good things about the Five Ten Coyote, Evolv Defy and La Sportiva Mythos… We’ll see.

Leave me a comment or shoot me an email if you have any feedback or suggestions. If you enjoyed this post, please consider following the Suburban Mountaineer onFacebook or Twitter. Happy reading and carpe climb ’em!

Also, you can catch up on my quest for new rock climbing shoes here by reading my last post on this topic: Rock Climbing in Peaklessburg.

The Ledge: A Review and Daydream of Liberty Ridge

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I recently finished reading The Ledge: An Adventure Story of Friendship and Survival on Mount Rainier by Jim Davidson and Kevin Vaughan (2011). It’s a very good story about, well, just what the subtitle says.

What it doesn’t say — and only climbers can appreciate it in these terms — is that it’s about a beautiful climb up the legendary Liberty Ridge route and a horrible, fluke accident on the descent that anyone that has crossed a glacier can, at a minimum identify with the fear.

The timing of the release of this book was impeccable for me because I’ve been obsessing over Mount Rainier this past few months. The key event in the book is about how Davidson and his friend and partner Mike Price fell into a deep crevasse and Davidson’s amazing self rescue. The rescue — or rather, the escape — is the central action part of the story and must be read to fully appreciate, so I will say no more. The Ledge‘s theme of friendship gets at the heart of a relationship that can only be forged through challenging adventures like mountaineering. Davidson and Vaughn really honor the memory of Mike Price in this tale.

Aside from themes, the book also provides ample fuel for a mountain daydream of a climb up Mount Rainier’s steep Liberty Ridge on its north face. This route was one that I hoped to climb one day. It has been called an alpine classic by Steve Roper and Allen Steck in Fifty Classic Climbs of North America (1996). Of course, I never thought of an accident happening after an ascent on this route, as happened in the book. It goes to show how many hazards there are up there.

The Liberty Ridge rises from the Carbon Glacier 5,500 feet, separates the 4,000-foot Willis Wall to its eastern flank and the nearly-as-large Liberty Wall to its west. It ascends sustained 55-degree slopes, not including brief steeper portions to get around Thumb Rock (10,760 ft.) The route turns to exclusively snow and hard ice up toward Black Pyramid (12,400). The ridge meets the Liberty Cap Glacier at 13,000 feet, where the summit (14,410 ft.), Colombia Crest, is reachable.

Davidson and Vaughn make the climb sound sublime and challenging for an experienced climber. I recommend reading the book for this part alone, and to learn about Davidson’s and Price’s surprise bivy location over the Liberty Wall — that’s actually something I’d like to duplicate, though I probably wouldn’t do so intentionally either.

Overall, The Ledge is a very good story to enjoy whether you’re a climber, an armchair mountaineer, or are fascinated by human perseverance. You can’t go wrong.

Thanks for dropping by again, please consider following the Suburban Mountaineer on Facebook or Twitter. Happy reading and carpe climb ’em!

Sources: 1) Davidson, Jim and Kevin Vaughn, The Ledge: An Adventure Story of Friendship and Survival on Mount Rainier, Ballantine Books, 2011; 2) Roper, Steve and Allen Steck, Fifty Classic Climbs of North America, Sierra Club, 1996; and 3) Gauthier, Mike, Mount Rainier: A Climbing Guide, The Mountaineers, 1999.

Speed Records in Climbing

/ Andrew Szalay / Leave a comment

Did you see the article on speed records in the New York Times this past Saturday? It was surprisingly well told by Sean Patrick Farrell. Ordinarily, I don’t get that much out of climbing stories told through mainstream media.

The article, titled “A New Tool for Mountain Climbers: A Stopwatch,” summarizes the debate surrounding speed records in mountain climbing and does so rather objectively too.

Ferrell reviews the mind set of those climbers that seek to climb “a bit faster or with purer style.” He also recognized that, to some audiences, speed records are contrary to the nature of what the climbing experience ought to be. But he also points out through examples that those who seek the shortest times do so either for themselves or for their sponsors or are motivated by the glamour of the status.

I have my preferences of what an ideal mountain experience is — we all do — and I never want to knock the “progressive” new trend whether it’s speed, weight, or fancy equipment. That’s because the trend can be 1) often fun to follow, 2) a noteworthy athletic performance, and 3) pushing the limits of what we believed was possible. Out of that we sometimes find some real, substantive result from the accomplishment.

However, I can’t stand “progressive” approaches, like speed climbing or extreme light hiking, when someone or some message conduit promotes or represents it as not only the way of the future, but the only way of the future. Maybe that’s just my perception of the media’s power (since I can’t think of any concrete examples.) But in terms of the progressive nature in outdoors sports, consider the light-weight hiking movement: Just because trail running shoes are lighter doesn’t necessarily mean I’m comfortable giving up my beloved traditionally-styled, full-grain leather boots. (These days, I actually hike mainly, though not exclusively, in my classic New Balance 461s.)

As for the speed record issue specifically, we all ought to respect the general idea that spending less time on the mountain reduces the chances that something will go wrong while climbing. As Peter Bernstein says in his book, Against the Gods: The Remarkable Story of Risk, time is on the other side of the coin of risk. But less time — over the same amount of ground and elevation-gained — can also introduce risk factors that otherwise would not be in play on a slower-paced traverse, such missing clues to identifying a crevasse.

I enjoy speed records; they are easy to understand and to be stand in awe over. But for me, it’s not my style and certainly not the future for everyone else. For those that race the clock, good luck. Just be sure you do it for yourself.

Thanks again from dropping by. If you enjoyed this post, please consider following The Suburban Mountaineer on Facebook or Twitter. Happy reading and carpe climb ’em!

Rock Climbing in Peaklessburg

/ Andrew Szalay / 5 Comments

I don’t own a pair of rock climbing shoes. I’ve rented them all my climbing life. I know; it’s probably a little embarrassing for me to admit this here. The reason is while I’ve climbed rock, I’ve always glamorized snow and ice routes above rock. That’s why I invested in plastic mountaineering boots years ago rather than “summer” gear. I now think I’ve arrived at a place where I need to put a pair of shoes with sticky rubber in my rucksack.

Part of my reasoning is that rock climbing is much more popular and accessible than general mountaineering, ice climbing and alpine climbing. Climbing magazine always covers way more rock routes and profile rock climbers than snow and ice routes and true alpinists. That’s always been an issue for me when I crave the high, cold stuff.

Yet, recently I started looking at the rock stories with new interest. I began broadening my view of climbing, even while I write mainly about alpine climbs because that is what I dream about. Getting to the top of high, icy and snowy peaks is what climbing has always been about to me — ultimately I still believe that. But that’s hardly what is accessible around here in Peaklessburg. Our nation’s capital is mainly flat except for the shallow gorge and waterfalls formed by the Potomac River west of Washington, DC. Great Falls, VA and Carderock, MD offer about a hundred top roping climbs. A little further out are some modest crags in Shenandoah National Park. Further still are climbs in West Virginia, like Seneca Rocks.

There are also climbing gyms in the area for training that have good reputations. I think I might have to hit ’em up and take advantage of some instruction. Hopefully their reputation is partly due to their instructors. I’ll let you know.

While my ideal climbs are cold climate routes, I think I am starting to figure out how to make the most of living in a flat, hot and humid, urban area. Part of it might be embracing — even if not fully adopting — the regional tradition for rock climbing.

I’m not a diehard rock climber and don’t see that changing. I still won’t be aspiring to send big walls in Squamish, though I think those that do deserve a lot of respect. Some gym training and some outdoor top rope routes would be nice. Maybe I’ll get the nerve up to lead climb again one day.

So I’ll be pulling out my old Gear Guides from Climbing as a starting point. If you’ve got any advice, let me know…

Thanks again for dropping by. If you enjoyed this post, please consider following The Suburban Mountaineer on Facebook or Twitter. Happy reading and carpe climb ‘em.