Footwork for Efficiency & Safety on the Climbing Approach and on the Hiking Trail

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As the video starts out with, techniques from one outdoor discipline can often help in others. Here is just a sampling of other videos I’ve done that fall into this category: how to use ice axes for the Pacific Crest Trail or even the Continental Divide Trail; down quilts applied to a sleep system high on some mountain; glove systems borrowed from how ice climbers deal with the cold and wet…

I think that in order to be willing to learn and borrow from other outdoor activities, we need to show up to our own with some humility and show up to the one we are borrowing from with curiosity. In fact, there is very little we can do, by way of learning, if we don’t show up with humility and curiosity.

I know that I personally get pulled away from those two mindsets the more I get my identity caught up in my activity. “I’m a climber, so I don’t think those hikers could tell me too much about endurance, pushing through pain, and trying hard.” Oh yes they can! It’s one thing to go through a 48 hour push on a vertical wall of snow and ice, that’s true. There is an acuity to that type of suffering. But what about the suffering of being on a trail and living out of a backpack for four or five months? Is that something that could be applied to, say, a climbing expedition, where the struggles of monotony and persistent discomfort and feeling isolated may look a lot like what a thru-hiker experiences?

And, of course, I can come up with examples going the other way. Could a thru-hiker learn something about how climbers deal with objective danger and risk assessment that could be applied to - say - being up on a mountain pass as a storm rolls in? The video attached to this blog is an example, too: specificity of footwork can go a long way to saving a bunch of energy, and that energy saved can add up to a big sum once you add in days, weeks, and months on a trail.

The point is that I personally find that calling myself one thing, say a “climber,” kind of sets that definition is not only being someone who climbs but also being someone who doesn’t do those other things (or, at least, doesn’t do those other things as much). There is some kind of implied separation with an identity label. Yes, I am this thing, but that also means I’m not those other things.

And while it doesn’t necessarily follow that “not being one of those other things” means you will diminish or ignore those other things, it sure makes it easier.

That, I think, is dangerous.

Not only does it close us off to all sorts of valuable insights we could derive from those other activities, it also may close us off from experiences and even people that are deep into those other activities. That seems like a wasted opportunity, for sure.

So, with humility and curiosity, I try to resist labeling myself - even if I fail sometimes. And with humility and curiosity I try to remind myself that there are valuable lessons to be learned from just about everywhere.