The Mindful Slowdown of Slab Climbing
When climbing straightens into a line towards the sky, a few things happen with my process:
- I speed up and begin barreling through the moves, relying on instinct and natural strength.
- I become less certain and begin to slow down and doubt the whole process
Some of you may already be thinking “isn’t all climbing vertical?” And to an extent this is true, but by vertical I mean a sheer wall without any angle. As I’ve begun to spend more time at a local crag that offers very few options of this style, my taste for slab climbing has developed. Slab climbing involves ascending a wall that sits at a near vertical angle with a slight incline.
Obviously it’s possible to vert climb in a slow and thoughtful manner, but for some reason this often eludes me. I’ve noticed that with slab climbing, a natural slowing down occurs. On particularly easier routes, I can practically run up the wall, but as the difficulty tightens, the climbing begins to slow down. I would liken slab climbing to ascending an elaborate staircase. Or walking on eggshells. Up a staircase. That’s made out of rock. Most of the climb is laid out before you, unlike with vert climbs in which you might not be able to see where to go next. With slab, the mystery is more of a how than what.
Recently I redpointed a route that I’d been working through at the local crag. It begins with a relatively straightforward approach but quickly steepens into a sharp ramp with even fewer holds, true to the style of the area. I spent a while contemplating one particularly thin move:
Alright, this must be the crux.
A generous ledge in the sandstone provided an accommodating handhold, it was simply a matter of matching the foot in a precarious position. I took a few deep breathes and after examining the wall for some not so great options, proceeded into the move. Now, with both feet on the ledge, I encountered a fairly blank section followed by more contemplation:
Alright, this must be the crux.
And so the process continued until I reached a point where, although it didn’t feel as if I was constantly running into the most difficult move, I had now entered the territory of just generally difficult, which was a welcome relief.
I spent a fair amount of time working through this route, and noted how calm I felt as encountered each move. When I become frightened while climbing, I tend to feel a sense of urgency and end up rushing into a rough spot. In this situation, there weren’t any terribly obvious holds to quickly go for and I was forced to examine each option until finding the best one. There isn’t any blind groping for a notch above you out of sight. It’s up to you to decide to utilize what’s presented to you. See Callahan Commit
With this style of climbing, you either find a way to make something out of nothing with the holds (or lack thereof) or don’t proceed at all. Each move is a tiny process to be experienced as you move forward, and upon completing the cycle it begins again, akin to the natural process of breathing.
While finishing the climb clean was a nice feeling, the aspect of completion ended up being the least gratifying piece of the experience. Engaging deeply and mindfully with the process is the true experience, more so than being at the top of a rock out in the woods somewhere.
