Learn to Trad Climb the Fun, Affordable Way

For CleanSnipe.com

Summits like Wyoming's Grand Teton are guarded by only a few easy trad pitches... and a whole lot of scrambling.

There are few things more satisfying than summiting a remote peak or topping out an obscure multi-pitch climb.  The exposure, route finding, full body exertion, and connection with true wilderness offers a sense of adventure few people get to experience.


Sadly, most climbers are among the inexperienced majority.  For one reason or another, most of us never get turned on to trad climbing.  Some declare it lame. Some think it’s too expensive. Many are intrigued but intimidated.

Actually, trad climbing is the polar opposite of lame, and getting into it need not cost more than a few hundred dollars.  It also doesn’t have to be overly intimidating.

You don’t need to be exceptionally strong to climb trad.  You don’t have to send difficult sport routes or boulder problems, though you certainly need to be comfortable leading whatever grade you wish to tackle trad.  Most of the funnest trad climbing I’ve done was in the 5.5-5.8 range: boring sport climbing but exhilarating in the midst of a big day on a big pile of rock… and also a lot friendlier on the fingers than most difficult climbing.

The intimidation many folks feel comes largely from uncertainty about placing and trusting gear.  Many climbers capable of leading difficult sport routes are uncomfortable on much easier trad routes.  Intuitively, many of us put more trust in old bolts placed by god-knows-who than we are capable of putting in our own gear placements.  This is only natural.  A little fear is healthy when dabbling in trad.

The trick to breaking into the boundless world of trad climbing is learning to place gear, to build anchors, and to trust that they will safely serve you.  Also, of course, learning the appropriate skills to apply when things go wrong is crucial before venturing into the realm of more committing trad routes.  There are three suggested methods for learning these day-to-day and emergency skills.

1.  Take lessons from a professional mountain guide.  Pay someone for their patient instruction and pearls of wisdom.  This method certainly works, but learning through paid instruction alone would be very expensive.  Also, many of the basic skills needed to climb trad are easily learned on your own.  A little background knowledge goes a long way in getting the most for your money when paying for climbing instruction.

2.  Apprentice under a “Trad Master”.  Climb with someone reputed to really know what they’re doing and study their actions.  Watch their technique from your belay stance, then clean their gear while following the pitch.  Analyze the anchors they build, how they rack their gear, how they conduct themselves on the rock, what knots they use, how they treat their gear, what they do when things go wrong, etc.  This method is obviously much cheaper than professional instruction but it’s by no means foolproof.  Unfortunately, many “Trad Masters” actually aren’t that masterful.  Many have just been lucky despite downright dangerous habits and a knowledge base lacking in important areas.  Also, cleaning a pitch while following it is a very different experience than placing your own gear while leading.  You can spend months following someone around and still lack the knowledge and confidence to safely lead trad on your own.

3.  Buy your own gear and teach yourself the basics of trad climbing on your own.  If you do this right, it’s safer than following most “Masters”, cheaper than hiring a guide, more gratifying, and you’ll probably learn faster too.  How can this be?  Simple!  At first, you leave the rope at home and don’t climb higher than a few feet off the ground.

Get your hands on a few nuts, cams, slings, and ‘biners and head for the hills.  You don’t even need to bring a harness but comfortable old climbing shoes are usually handy.  Don’t forget to include  a nut tool in your practice rack.  A helmet is recommended in areas where rockfall is likely.  Remember that the lightest, fanciest, most-reputable gear in the climbing world won’t do you any good if you don’t know how to use it properly.  More important than acquiring a lot of gear is having a strong grasp of how to best use what you’ve got.

Search out any old crag and traverse along the base while placing, weighting, studying and cleaning gear.   Hike through boulder fields looking for cracks and flaws where you can build an anchor.  Go for a mountain bike ride with a light rack in your CamelBack.  If you see an interesting piece of rock, stop and practice your placements and anchors.  Even if the rock turns out to be garbage, it’ll still prove a great learning experience.  You’re not only learning how to place gear but how to read rock quality from a distance.

Place gear in Granite, Sandstone, Limestone, and in any other kind of rock you encounter.  Learn the dimensions of each piece and study the rock looking for suitable flaws.  Keep practicing until you rarely misjudge the proper piece for a placement.  Practice placing cams but really focus on mastering passive protection placements.  Active protection is much easier to place but mastering nut, hex, and tri cam placements will pay off.  You will get gear stuck.  Learning to calmly get it unstuck is an essential skill to develop.  You only have to lose one piece to learn how important focusing and taking your time is when placing gear.

The Bible of Trad Climbing and Mountaineering

Studying books on climbing in addition to practicing on real rock is crucial to learning.  I recommend all of these books, especially Mountaineering: The Freedom of the Hills andRock Climbing Anchors.  The book Self-Rescue is about what to do when things go wrong and is a crucial read if you’re planning to climb far from the beaten path.

Rock Climbing Anchors: Crucial Read

Once you’re comfortable placing gear and building trad anchors, consider leading sport routes with both your sport draws and trad rack.  Though it will be redundant, clip bolts and place gear.  This gives you great practice placing gear while leading with the added security of frequent bolts.  Also, it provides a great opportunity to learn how to avoid rope drag between pieces of protection.  The straighter and more freely your rope passes through protection, the better.  Like your first time getting a piece hopelessly stuck, you’ll  learn a major lesson when first dealing with extreme levels of rope drag.

Once you’re comfortable placing gear and building anchors while incorporating the rope, consider your first real trad lead.  Make it an easy one and make sure you’ve got the gear you need to properly protect it.  If you’re lacking confidence, this would be a good time to climb with a guide or “Trad Master”.  With a strong foundation of knowledge from studying and practicing on your own, you’ll take a lot more out of the experience.

Once you’ve made a few trad leads you’ll be hooked for life and you’ll never look at climbing (or a mountain) in the same way ever again.  Have fun and be safe.  No matter how safe you are, however, eventually things will go wrong, and you’ll be glad you read up on…

Gear Review: Black Diamond Megawatt Ski

Black Diamond Megawatt 178/188 (153-125-130)

You can’t trust most ski reviews for a couple of reasons. # 1: The reviewer is sponsored by the manufacturer or is otherwise biased towards promoting the ski. # 2: The reviewer only rode the ski for a short period of time in a small slice from the spectrum of possible snow conditions.

This review, however, is legit.

Regarding #1: I don’t have any sponsors.  I got my hands on a pair of 188cm BD Megawatts in December 2009 when a buddy moved from the Teton Range to Missouri: his lady got into Medical School there.  If he holds on to her, the decision should start to pay off in about seven years.  His decision to leave the Megawatts here, however, started paying off (for me) immediately…

Regarding #2: Over the last few months, I’ve logged 180,000 feet of backcountry vert on the Megawatt.  My buddy mounted them with a pair of Dynafit FT12 bindings and bent the 110mm brakes to accommodate the sultry 125mm waist of the Megawatt.  He also included a pair of BD Ascension Skins.  Factor in my old pair of Dynafit Zzero boots, and as if by karmic magic I had a new rig that has proven the funnest, most versatile backcountry ski setup I’ve ever ridden.

The skis are amazingly light for their size and coupled with the Dynafit binding, they’re perfect for long tours in any conditions.  They climb steep, slick skin tracks noticeably better than skinnier skis thanks to mucho surface area underfoot and in the tail.  The rocker tip and zero camber assure contact directly underfoot when you need all the traction you can get.  Additionally, the rocker tip and plentiful surface area keep you atop the pow when setting a skin track.  On more traditional touring skis, you’re often slogging, stomping, stumbling, and swearing your way through the sugar.  The Megawatts make blazing your own trail much more enjoyable… and more energy efficient.

The real fun comes during the descent.  The tips are almost impossible to sink so you can ski them well in even the deepest, lightest blower.  You don’t have to carry much speed to stay afloat, but if you feel so inclined, they can handle straightlines and super G turns far beyond my comfort zone.  Since they never submarine, they feel very stable and more predictable in pow.  For example, otherwise awkward pillow lines and landings become a breeze on these: you pretty much just have to stand there.

I also found that skiing powder on the 188cm Megawatt stresses my joints less than my 181cm K2 Coomba (103mm underfoot).  I have a crummy knee and ankle combo that has hindered my skiing for a few years.  With these, I don’t feel it at all.  There’s a lot to be said for staying on top and making effortless turns.

I’ve ridden groomers, bumps, breakable death crust, and steep ice on them.  They do as well as or better than conventional (100-110mm underfoot) powder skis.  I’ve ridden them in soupy, knee deep, ACL-popping corn snow, and they stayed on top offering safety and fun skiing when buddies were practically swimming down.  I’ve skied icy, fall-die couloirs on them, and they were solid.  Jump turns?  No problem.

A few years back I swore I’d never want a touring ski fatter than my 88mm underfoot skis.  I was wrong.  Though slightly heavier, skis like the Megawatt climb better and ski better.  They’re way more fun to ski and are also safer.  They decrease stress on your joints because they stay up top.  They decrease fatigue because they ski effortlessly.  They decrease your odds of falling because they are easier to ski.  They decrease your odds of striking objects under the snow.  And they are much easier to POINT if you need to, say, outrun an avalanche.

If you aren’t touring on fatties like the Megawatt, you’re missing out on a lot of fun and safety.

Megawatts atop Wyoming's Grand Teton

Pothole Magazine, Installment #3

Looking pretty haggard in Two Harbors, Catalina Island, SoCal.

    When we left off in Pothole Deuce, no-budget-travelers Mack and Max had just sailed piece-of-shit yacht "Sin Fin" through a nasty storm while crossing the Oregon/California border.  Still far from their destination, they're going for broke...

     For the most part, California represented a dangerous, expensive and LONG obstacle between us and the adventure-filled freedom we hoped to find South of the Border.  We'd seen the weather turn foul as winter drew near and felt our cash wads shrinking. Wiser minds told us of safer seas awaiting past Point Conception, still about 600 miles (at least 100 hours) South of our position.  We'd both been to SoCal before and agreed it pretty much sucks.  As such, the plan was GOGOGO-- weather permitting-- until we hit Mexico.

     Even though Gale Force Winds were still howling, we left Crescent City only a few days after our exhausting and terrifying arrival.  After a few hours of white-knuckle sailing we wizened up and pulled into quaint little Trinidad.  Though there were plenty of moorings, we were the only boat in the bay.

     There we encountered world-class kitesurfing and friendly folks.  One morning we even caught a ride to the beach with a local who showed us a nasty scar left by a Great White.  Google sez this about the attack:

October 21, 2005: Chad Reiker was surfing at the mouth of the No Name River in Northern California... He was ~100 yards from shore over water 12 – 15 feet deep when the shark came from behind, striking him on the right side. He was thrown from his board, and the shark pulled it below the surface. He was not wearing a leg leash and began swimming to the beach immediately. He retrieved his board and drove himself to Mad River Hospital where ER physicians dressed and sutured the cut to his right thigh. Reiker described the White Shark as between 12 – 14 feet in length with a large girth. It is noteworthy that two weeks prior to the attack he observed a White Shark of similar size at the same location.  (Italics mine.)

     If you didn't catch all that, our friendly chauffeur, at a spot where he'd recently encountered a Great White, was surfing leashless in 6 to 8 foot swell when he got attacked.  Trailing blood (he needed lotsa stitches) Reiker swam ~100 yards to shore, collected his board, and drove himself to the ER.  Regularly experiencing life a few pegs down on the food chain?  I proclaim that gritty.  Adding to the ridiculousness, the very morning we bummed a ride with Reiker, he was heading home from surfing the same break where he'd gotten chomped.  Call him crazy, but look at the wave:

     The Gale subsided so we hauled anchor that night with our sights set on San Francisco.  Ten minutes out of Trinidad, the autopilot died.  We spent the next 54 hours trading off three hour stretches at the tiller.  Utterly exhausted, we slid beneath the Golden Gate Bridge an hour before dawn on a full moon night.  Surreal.

     We sniped a free slip at the ultra-swank Golden Gate Yacht Club and passed out.  After the much needed nap, we dropped a painful $450 on a new autopilot, were treated to dinner by local friends (THANKS!), tied one on, slept hard, and sailed South the following day.  We wanted to stay longer, but playing around in that amazing city would have broken the bank.

     We dubbed the new autopilot "Baby Jesus", and it proved our savior many times.  Never sail anywhere without a functioning autopilot!  The name also took the edge off when warning people to be careful around the autopilot.  "Don't set your beer on the Baby Jesus... be careful not to step on the Baby Jesus... if you don't understand the Baby Jesus, don't  push the Baby Jesus's buttons". Etcetera ad nausea... but hilarious.  I highly recommend the name.

     We got busted for sniping a slip in Santa Cruz and were issued a $102 fine.  Instead of paying it, we took off in the middle of the night.  The next afternoon, 75 miles South, we got busted again in Morro Bay by an exceptionally grumpy husband and wife fishing team.  We'd stopped there to check the weather and grab gasoline.  The gas dock attendant (granted, not the brightest fellow) gave us the OK to tie up where we did, so Mack and I walked off in search of pizza and beer.  The forecast looked iffy, and we were approaching the notorious Point Conception, so we were unsure whether we'd continue that evening or hole up for the next few nights where we were.

Morro Bay is named after this bad ass rock formation.

Sadly the view from the "Morro" is substantially less inspiring.  HUGE smokestacks.

     We returned from dinner happy to await a more favorable forecast, but found the boat being moved by these irate fisherfolk.  Apparently we were in one of their unused "spots".

     When they realized we were with the boat, they laid into us and got the Port Captain on the radio.  Rather than risk having a few minor infractions snowball on us, we bid them "fuck you" and cast off.  The nastiest night of sailing thus far ensued.

     The whole experience resembled a bad movie.  We raced past the jetty in the glorious early evening, cockily defiant and confident the weather would hold.  It didn't.  The closer we got to Point Conception, the worse it got, and soon I was puking again.  As darkness descended, it got downright scary and stayed that way until well after dawn when under storm jib alone, we pulled into a remote anchorage in the Channel Islands.

Isla San Miguel, Channel Islands

     Another forecasted Gale developed and we were trapped in the Channel Islands for three days of gloriously terrifying kitesurfing.  The water was frigid, the wind gustily intense, the waves well-overhead, and the heavy concentration of Great Whites in the area, indisputable.  We were only 25 miles from the mainland, but the wildness of the island and sea made us feel completely on our own.  This is a feeling we finally got comfortable with about halfway down Baja.


     When this Gale subsided we bee-lined towards Catalina Island for a few days rest in Two Harbors.  This is about the perfect spot for a jaded SoCal boat bum to drink himself to death... just so you know.  We couldn't afford much drink, so we celebrated by splitting a half gallon of ice cream.  Dank.

     From there the light winds of SoCal forced us to motor much of the way to San Diego.  There we made friends with some amazingly accommodating yachties and prepared the boat for Mexico.  Two busy days later, we had dolphins off the bow as we sailed across the border...