A safe mountaineer climbs without stumble, but he is also always alert to check some one else’s incipient slip. The management of the rope has prevention of accident as its first object. But correction of the consequences is its second.
Giving Warning.
When men are moving singly, up or down steep rock, a fall that can injure should be impossible for anyone but the leader or last man. If the ordinary precautions are observed, a slip of a few inches is the most that can result. But although we may count upon each other’s alertness, we must give the rope, and ourselves, every chance. If we feel a hold giving or muscles failing, we must give warning at once, and then hang on for just the extra second—nearly always possible—which will allow our friend above to brace every muscle to meet the direct pull, or to intrude his utmost ‘spring’ between the rope and the belay. There exists a superstition that to fall silently is to fall courageously. The man above is sure to hold—“that’s his business”; whereas our own concern, in such extremity, lies only with our own dignity. But even in falling we remain a member of the party, and we have no right to indulge a personal gratification. And so a quick ‘Look out!’ and the fraction of a second’s hang-on, which are enough to secure the concentration not only of the anchor-man but of all the rope, must be counted as our bounden duty.
The same obligation holds good in the case of a party all moving together along a ridge, or up or down an easy climb. If one man feels his foothold or his balance going, he has always the instant’s time to shout a warning before his weight can come on the rope. The man behind, if there is one, will have had his eyes on him and will be ready; it is the man in front, with his back turned, whom he has to consider. This front man will, if he is climbing soundly, have been all along taking holds with his margin of resistance in mind. He will also have been noting, if not using in rapid passage, all the points for a possible anchor of the rope. The instant’s warning will enable him to brace as he stands, without looking round, or to fling the rope round a point to support himself before the jerk comes. In such climbing the rope is never quite taut between climbers, and there will be the run-out of the length of rope slackened by the man falling to add to the interval of time which his shout should have given for preparation.
The last man on the rope, when all are moving together in ascent or descent, has a special obligation to give this timely warning, since no one has him in view. The instant he hears the warning or the scrape on the rock, every man braces his muscles, and, if possible, anchors his rope. A practised ear distinguishes at once between the ordinary clean scrape of a climbing boot and the scuffled scrape of a slip, or the snap of a breaking handhold. On a thoroughly united rope it sometimes seems as if a premonition of the imminent slip must have reached a good climber in front, even before the sound, some consciousness of an interruption in the current of sympathetic action, so sure has been the anticipation and swift the check. But a man who has himself passed a passage has already a half-realized idea of the sort of trap it may present, even if he himself evades it, and his quickened senses are the sooner prepared for the nerve-thrill that precedes the actual warning by as much as thought can out-distance sound.
Easing the Check.
If a climber has had no warning, or for other reasons cannot at once brace into a secure position, he should let the rope slip through his hand until he has had time to adjust his balance. This is one of the occasions when gloves are a help. The first touch will tell him if he can hold fast at once or must let the rope slip for the moment. Very few falls on places where a party is able to move together are absolutely clear, or come with the full jerk of the whole weight at the start. This is especially the case on snow, where friction also checks the pace. I have had on several occasions the man above or below me in a steep snow or ice couloir fall out of a breaking step while we were all descending together. On an occasion when the man below me slipped, my first effort to check the rope told me that I was not firm enough. A second or two were needed to allow myself and the man roped to me above to get ‘planted.’ I partially checked the rope three times, and had to let it go again at cost of hand and glove, before I felt the rope from the man above tighten on my waist, and so knew that we were ready to take the full jerk together, from our combined stances. The intermediate checks had broken the impetus sufficiently to make the final arrest easy. On another occasion in a steep couloir, when I was descending first, the man above me slipped, and the last man on the rope, then in mid-stride, was unable alone to check the slide at once. He therefore let the rope rush through his hand until the sliding man had spun down past me. Then, of course, my rope to him also came into action, and, dividing the shock between us, we easily stopped the fall.
On rock, as a rule, such gradual checks are impossible. Fortunately upon rock, in proportion as the need for an immediate check is the more imperative, firm stances, with sound rock hand and foot holds and complementary anchors round rock points, are more present and instantly serviceable.
Checking on Traverses.
The middle men on traverses are adequately protected, and need only be checked in the usual manner. But if a leader or last man falls, before or behind us, on a long traverse, it is not sufficient merely to hold firmly or to hold the belay. If we remain stoutly inactive, he will have enough rope out to fall far enough for injury before the rope can tighten, and far enough to risk a snap in the rope when the full jerk comes. The rope must be snatched in as he falls, round the belay or loose in the hands. If the fall is from our own level, or from only diagonally above us, we can tighten the rope at once, and this serves to give a sideways tug to the man falling, which lessens the force of the final jerk as he swings in below us. During a fall of fifty feet from a traverse on our level, there may be time to race in a fifth of the length before the jerk comes. On such traverses, except in a party of two, there will be usually some one else on our own level, or near it, who will share the shock with us by tightening his rope on our waist. If the third man is near enough to help in actually holding the loose rope, or in belaying it as it comes in, so much the better. We are the freer ourselves to rush in as much of the flying slack as time allows us. If he is not near enough to help, we must be prepared, as we cannot pull in and secure the rope at the same time, to let the rope tear out again when the jerk comes, tightening and relaxing it through our hands until we are certain that our balance has survived the shock. The action of the party of two in like circumstance is considered later.