FROM ROCKS TO THE MOUNTAINS

For eons, climbers have played in, and surrendered to, the music of the crag and the rock. To be able to kinaesthetically synchronise the body, mind and rock, to move lithely as a dancer but with the strength and determination of an MMA fighter. But for some, they find themselves drawn to a different playground.

Fortunately we are not here to debate the eternal, elusive and existential question of why one climbs (either rocks or mountains). What we are here to explore right now, is what the transition from rock to mountain looks like. This is not a comprehensive “how-to” guide. This is an introduction to some of the considerations—and attractions—of moving from rock to the mountains.

On the surface, rock-climbing and mountaineering may look similar. But dig a little deeper, and you’ll unearth differences not just in the skillsets and techniques required, but in the psychological experiences of each. Understanding some of these differences will assist you as a climber, to transition effectively from crag to mountain.

Like any different sport, you’ll need to learn new skills, and understand new equipment. These include, but are not limited to: crevasse rescue, ice-axe self-arrest, glacier travel, walking in crampons, climbing in crampons, technical climbing in gloves, alternating between hiking poles and ice-axes, understanding of weather and mountain terrain, snow anchors, alpine navigation, alpine rope-skills and management, and emergency management. One of the best ways to learn a new skill is simply doing a course. NZ and even Australia have various introductory mountaineering courses.

Beyond the technical skills, you’ll need different mental skills. Where the rock demands short to medium length focus and lactic-acid management, the mountain requires endurance. The mountain requires patience and persistence. Prepare yourself for a long, slow slog, with early mornings and late nights.

The mountain is less similar to the rock than you might imagine. The beauty and safety of the crag—knowing the walk-in, the length, the height, where the sun hits at which time of day—means you can usually predict with reasonable accuracy what you will encounter on a given day.

But the mountains? Oh boy. Don’t try to predict that mountain, even if you were up on it yesterday. A mountain is changeable, shakeable, moody. It is a moving entity. You need to come prepared for whatever it may throw at you. This complexity is another reason for completing a course and doing your first ascents with a guide.

Robert Macfarlane describes risk on the mountain most succinctly: “There are many ways to die in the mountains: there is death by freezing, death by falling, death by avalanche, death by starvation, death by exhaustion, death by rockfall, death by ice-fall, and death by the invisible aggression of altitude sickness, which can cause cerebral or pulmonary oedema.”

Macfarlane is not necessarily against risk, acknowledging it is a motivator for many. “[R]isk-taking brings with it its own reward: it keeps a ‘continual agitation alive’ in the heart. Hope, fear. Hope, fear— this is the fundamental rhythm of mountaineering. Life, it frequently seems in the mountains, is more intensely lived the closer one gets to its extinction: we never feel so alive as when we have nearly died.”

Risk on the mountains is real, and the objective hazards cannot always be eliminated, just minimised. Despite this, good mountaineers are not reckless or sensation-seekers. In fact, research indicates that they are control-focused, conscientious, demonstrate immense attention-todetail, and have very high impulse control.

Psychological motivation

This is an interesting one. Research shows that if a person wants to go mountaineering for ego/extrinsic reasons—for example, to impress other people and maybe notch up a few Insta likes—that person is less likely to achieve their objectives. The type of motivation that is commensurate with success on the mountain is intrinsic motivation. Successful mountaineers are strongly motivated by the opportunity to challenge themselves, rather than being motivated by the accolades they might receive if successful.

It’s a question to reflect on. What is your motivation?

It may well be a combination of factors, including some extrinsic reasons (for most of us they exist in some form or another). But knowing what ultimately drives you will help you plan for success—in whatever form success means to you.

Turns out, mountaineering is good for your mental health—so long as you can manage the Type 2 fun elements. It can enhance cognitive coping mechanisms such as suppression, meta-cognitive assessments of risk, and emotional regulation.

And a final word from Edward Whymper, one of the climbers who survived the 1865 Matterhorn disaster and who later provided an epitaph for expeditions and also for mountaineering itself:

Climb if you will but remember that courage and strength are naught without prudence, and that a momentary negligence may destroy the happiness of a lifetime. Do nothing in haste: look well to each step; and from the beginning think what may be the end.

About the writer:

DR KATE BAECHER | With over 15 years’ experience, Kate is an accomplished Australian Clinical and Performance Psychologist, whose work specialises in the nexus between human behaviour and complex environments. Kate has a military and adventure background, with expertise in high-performance coaching, research and consulting on mental health risks in remote, wilderness, extreme and austere environments.