Teaching Climbing

Knots should not just be useful. They need to be easy to teach and hard to get wrong even under stress. A very important skill for any climber is to be able to tie off a belay device or Munther hitch. Whenever you need to get your hands free for a snack, a photo, or transfer loads in a rescue situation, that passive end needs to go somewhere. The classic solution, especially in North America, seems to be the Munther-Mule. It is safe, can be released easily under load, and most importantly, knot nerds (like your average climbing instructor) like complicated knots with unintelligible names. If you are not sure what I mean, here is the Animated Knots page ! The Munther-Mule combination. The backup half hitch has been omitted for clarity. I should start by making it very clear that this is a tried and tested method. Technically, there is nothing wrong with a properly tied Munther-Mule combination, and if you like it, use it! But I strive to teach knots that are easy to use,

People get hurt. People die. Yet climbers will climb and I think this makes the world a better place. So how do we talk about this with our clients? I am not going to provide any answers here, because it is something I wrestle with myself. But I will try to organize my thoughts, and hopefully, this will trigger some input from my readers. The reason we are in this business  - teaching climbers all the survival skills - is that climbing is dangerous. Very dangerous. Every year, lots of people die or get seriously injured in climbing. It seems only natural that we should be transparent about it. Why? Because studying accidents is how we can understand risk, and develop both safety culture and safety technology. On the other hand, ambushing a nervous beginner with tales of death and suffering hardly seems inspirational, does it? What, then, could be the middle ground? I believe that facts and timing matter. Let me explain. The reason we need to talk to students about accidents i

Use the gear you already have, to work efficiently on the wall. This blog was not supposed to be about technical stuff. No gear tests, kilo-Newtons, knots, or steel alloy classification. There´s enough of that on the www already.  But I plan to make exceptions now and then, for either of two reasons: because I want to discuss the truth (or untruth) of something we often teach, or because I want to highlight techniques practical in the instructor´s daily work. In this case, it is the latter. Whenever we have climbers on the wall, we like to have at least one instructor there - to teach, goad, double-check, and provide safety backup. We want to be able to move both up and down, and sometimes even sideways if we are supporting two climbers. What is a good way to achieve this? My buddy Martin (center) during an exam. Note the instructor on the right and his setup. There are many solutions, the most obvious one being to ascend the rope on jumars using regular big-wall techniqu

Is that piece of pro good or bad? It´s never that simple.  As an instructor and as an experienced climber, you know that solid gear is crucial to climbing safely. If the nut holds, you are fine. If not, you are in deep trouble, regardless of how expensive your shiny new rope is. So we spend a lot of time trying to convey the importance of perfect gear. Full contact between nut and rock, bomber rock quality, no walking cams... You know the drill. This is all basic and vital knowledge. And it remains true that all gear must be bomber, so long as we are building top rope anchors. If we cannot find three bomber placements, we should simply pack up and find another route, or go home. It´s really that simple. Simon on the first ascent of something horrifying. In lead climbing, however, the waters become muddier. Suddenly, we are in the land of "not great but good enough", "place that nut and move on before pump sets in", "its a crappy little nut but m

Remember that we are not a circus. Our job is not to show off the maximum number of tricks.  To teach more, sometimes we need to say less. At the end of a two-day course, my voice is always shot, and I croak my goodbyes like an old frog. For many years, I have tried to practise my own philosophy of teaching, and talking, as little as possible. Yet I keep yabbering on. Whatever country or training system you are working within, you probably follow some kind of syllabus. You are expected to tick a number of boxes: anchors, rappelling, knots, climbing technique, access, grading. Check, check, check. Many participants will greedily ingest everything you throw at them. But people are different. If someone is completely new to the exposure, the engineering, the group - then a day or two at a crag is going to wear him down. Stress, cold, individual learning styles, or group dynamics will further affect his capacity to learn. In the end, it is a simple fact that just pulling from you

Work logistics into your course planning. At each step, where will you be, with what gear and in what mental state? During any climbing course, we have a lot of ground to cover, and I mean a lot. At the same time, we want a stress-free and safe learning environment with time for laughs. So where can we cut corners and shave off that hour we so sorely need on Sunday afternoon? How can we minimize "non-learning time"? Where I climb and teach climbing, a climbing course usually takes two days. If we look at the beginner's course that we (the Swedish Climbing Federation) offer, it covers top rope anchor construction, top-rope climbing, belaying, rappels, and many more bits and pieces. If we take a Rescue 1, we need to cover hoists, counter-weight rappelling, "packaging" an injured climber, moving an injured climber in non-technical terrain, multi-pitch rappelling with an injured climber, and a lot more. Whichever way you look at it, it´s going to be a busy we

We do things differently because climbing is different. When we meet fellow climbers from other countries, or areas, we are often surprised by the strange methods they use. Sometimes, it is because they have never been taught better. They probably had a mentor who never bothered to learn the ropes himself. Sometimes, we ascribe it to "culture", as in "well, the Swiss have this ancient alpine culture so they will belay in this weird way". I think "culture" misses the mark. It is not about eating cheese or wearing leather shorts. We do things differently because the climbing environment - the rock - demands unique solutions. In some places, you will climb bolted single pitch routes at the foot of a huge mountain. In others, you will climb bold trad and top out on "peak" after 15 meters. Some countries have trees, others do not. Some require miles of trekking, some have road-side crags. Some have soft rock (hence things like five-point anch

I have taught climbing for almost three decades. First, as a bumbly with a lot of self-confidence and no real experience to back it up. Then, as an experienced climber mentoring friends and partners. Finally, in 2004, I earned my Swedish rock climbing instructor licence and started teaching for real. Becoming an instructor (whether top-rope instructor or mountain guide) is very much the start of a journey. At first, everything is about technical ability. Can you perform this or that complex rescue in less than ten minutes? Can you tie an alpine butterfly with one hand? It is also about rules. Is it "okay" (according to some arbitrary rule set) to build an anchor with only two points? One point? No screw gates? It is very macho and very much about comparing the size of your... rack? As the years wear on, you start to realize that although technical stuff is interesting, it is not where the real challenge lies for a person who wishes to teach climbing. It is also not nece