Chapter V: Climbing in Combination (2)

In a more equal party of three, however, where two are experts and the third not a novice at climbing but only less expert in alpine route finding, whose presence in the middle does not, therefore, weaken the rope materially, it is advisable for the second best of the experts to go in the lead in descending, or in traversing along and down big ridges of no special difficulty. He is better able to find the best line, and thus leaves the weakest of the three with no other responsibility than to attend to his own going. This is a usual order for a guided party in the Alps on long ridge work: the guide at the tail, and the best amateur, or the porter as the case may be, in the lead. The order again depends upon the comparative ease of the rock work for the man descending last.

In a party of four, similarly, if there are two weaker members, these two may well be put in the centre for any period of difficult horizontal traversing. The object is to avoid either weak climber having to make a traverse of this sort at the end of the rope and so only half protected. In this order a party of four may move only one at a time, and the best and second best men must act as fixed anchors at either end of the rope while the weaker men are successively moving. On any such traverse, wherever the leader feels that all can move together, which will not be possible unless the rock is easy enough to allow of the weakest man traversing the passage unaided, the second best man should again separate the two less expert, and so prevent their association of inexperience and its cumulative effect in case of a chance slip. On such a passage the leader or last man will not, by the nature of the case, require the support of a good second, and he will be able to spare full attention to the single novice placed behind him or, in descending, in front of him, upon the rope.

The same order may, on occasion, be adopted with similar party of four on the long easy traverse or descent of big alpine ridges, when two weaker climbers are efficient but not expert at route finding. It is often adopted with guided parties: the guide at the tail, the porter or the best of the amateurs in the lead, to choose the line, and the other two free to look after themselves and one another.

In a rope of four, for exacting horizontal traverses or for diagonal lines up or down ridges or across faces of any difficulty, when three men of the four are of almost equal merit and the fourth alone is inferior, one of the three better men goes last, with the other two in the lead, in ascending, and one of the three goes first, with the other two at the tail, in descending.

Where there is only one expert on the rope and two or three less secure climbers behind him, diagonal or horizontal traverses of any difficulty may never be attempted, unless the leader is prepared himself to hold the rope and belay the advance of each of the others separately, and in his turn, across every doubtful passage. No climber, however good, can count on checking in time the fall of two others; and if one novice slips on a rope so constituted, and the jerk comes first on another inexperienced climber, it is too late to hope to be able to stop the catastrophe. The neglect of this rule, one which it is difficult for a man in the pride of strength and skill to observe, has been the cause of some of the most melancholy of accidents.

There is one variation in the order, only coming into question in big alpine mountaineering, that must be mentioned separately. Occasionally on the traverse of long level or gradually inclined alpine ridges, up or down, where the technical difficulty of progress is not excessive, but where, owing to serrated ridges, cornices, snow-covered towers, etc., the risk of accident is greater than the difficulty, and the safe and swift management of the rope is both intricate and important, it is wiser for the most experienced climber of a party of three efficient amateurs to go in the middle, and not in the lead. He can then manage both ropes, and leave his less expert friends free to attend only to their own holds and progress, while he has them both, as it were, under his hand. As some compensation for the extra hindrance which the management of the two ropes will put in the way of his own climbing, he has the protection of the double support himself from either end. This order will be found of service in saving time and in preventing risk where, as often in amateur parties happens, the rope contains one or more brilliant climbers, good enough to lead and to follow, but still inexpert in the advanced technique of the rope. Variegated alpine ridges of this broken, crested type are the final test of rope management, and progress is often quicker and safer, for a party so constituted, with the expert leader acting as pivot and anchor in the centre.

This sort of combination, one or two more experienced mountaineers with one or two fine but still inexperienced climbers, is frequently the party preferred by guideless British climbers in the Alps; and it is therefore worth while adding here that the same order may be soundly adopted, with such a party, not only on traverses of ridges, but on big alpine ascents of length and severity. It is especially important in such combinations for the accepted leader, like a good stroke, to keep something in reserve. Assuming he knows his men to be good cragsmen, he may consider himself free to put one of them in the lead in ascending rocks, for part of the day at least, himself retaining the discretionary power which is as well exercised from the position of second man, and keeping his actual strength in reserve for real emergencies or for situations calling for expert mountaineering rather than for rock climbing technique. If his object is to train his men, he is even better able to do so from this position. This forms no exception to the rule that the best man should go first and last on new ascents and descents, and on all climbs where the difficulty requires an expert mountaineer, in the lead in ascending or at the tail in descending.

[Sidenote: The Order of Merit.]

To be able to go first and get up difficult places, although a fine quality and necessary where only rock climbing is in question, loses its unique importance when large mountaineering expeditions in the greater Alps come into consideration. It is the combined efficiency of the party in this case that chiefly counts. Qualities of management, ability to contribute the most to the combinations of the party, to its reserve of power, confidence and cheerfulness, and so to increase its continuous effectiveness, are the marks of the ‘leader’ in great mountaineering. The better mountaineer may not be the better able to go first up passages of excessive difficulty, and may, on occasions such as I have mentioned, even operate more potently from the centre of the rope.

There have been cases of mountaineers who have seldom if ever led a big climb, but to whose management, reserve power and cool judgment the successes of their party, under whatever first man of the moment, have been really due. One must not only see a rope in action, one must climb with it, if one wishes to discover the actual ‘leading’ mountaineer of the party, who is contributing most in a long day to the collective efficiency and safety.

For the same reason we are not in a position to assign individual credit for the great mountaineering feats of the past, or to say of a mountaineer, “He always had first-class guides; he never led; they did his mountaineering for him;” or of an amateur, “He always led his friends: his was the credit!” It may safely be accepted that on great alpine climbs, if the party has succeeded, the success has not merely been due to the guide or first man. On such climbs there are whole hours of the day during which the slip or shortcoming of any single climber may be fatal, and where the fact that even one man draws his unfair share from the pool of efficiency can prevent any chance of success. To the whole party belongs the credit for a great climb. Its members alone can venture to say whose was the moving spirit, or what was the order of merit.

[Sidenote: The Order with Beginners.]

Beginners may be either real novices, or only beginners in alpine work, route finding and so on. A complete beginner is more bothered by the management of the rope than anything else; therefore it is better for our progress to let him come up last and go down first. The exception is when we are descending by a route which is not easy to find or retrace. We may then put the beginner one from the end, in a party of four, with a route finder ahead and two sound men behind him. In a party of three we may put him in the centre; but not when the climbing is too stiff to justify our leaving to the last man all the tasks, of coming down last, looking after the beginner, and seeing that the beginner looks after the rope of the route finder. With such a party, on such a descent, I have often preferred to put the best mountaineer in the centre, behind the beginner, to coach him as to the route and look after him, while the other expert descended on a short rope behind, and looked after himself. Often he is more comfortable if he unropes altogether. The justifiability of this inversion of the order must depend upon a judgment at the time as to the relative importance of protecting the last man or of finding the right route at the right pace. If the rocks are really difficult, the beginner should go first, and the expert behind must coach as to the route. Such an occasion seems to me the only one that really offers a good case for the continental practice of putting red paper under stones at suitable points, to guide the descent. As a rule, a man ought to be able to find the way down where he has gone up. It is an important part of a beginner’s training to learn the habit of turning and noting the look of passages from the reverse direction while he ascends. In all cases of a descent where no previous ascent has been made, the permissibility of any alteration in the usual order must depend upon our estimate of the difficulty for the last man. If the rocks are severe, the ordinary order must be preserved.

A beginner is always greatly hampered by the rope on both sides of him; and if we are making a big expedition where progress and good temper are of more importance than a lesson in ‘middleman’ work, it is better, when consistent with safe mountaineering, to arrange that he is either on a rope of two, or at the free end of a rope. Again, be it in a large or a small party, it is always well to put him, or her, definitely in charge of some one, if not of the leader; who will precede him going up and follow him down, whatever the other order on the rope may be; acting as coach and general buffer.

For the same purpose, in a rope of three on easy ascents, while one of the two good climbers leads, the other is often better placed climbing immediately behind the beginner, shepherding his or her feet, giving shoulders, steadies, etc.

In a rope of four, similarly, on easy or moderate ascents, we put one of the three better climbers behind the beginner. The man looks after his own rope, and is of more use in coaching, helping and succouring the beginner than he would be as an extra reinforcement above. This is the soundest method with women novices or children. It is not suitable on really difficult rock; but then neither are women novices or children.

A single expert taking two such beginners up a very easy climb, more especially if they are girls or boys, whose stances and holding-power for each other cannot be depended upon, often does best to put himself in the middle of a long rope. He ascends first and descends last, as usual; but by this arrangement he can himself bring up or lower the two beginners separately to or from each stance, with less confusion of ropes. On very easy ridges, with a light following, if he ties himself between them so as to leave the ropes of different lengths, he can often save time by bringing up both beginners simultaneously, one starting after and climbing below the other.

An expert climbing with two such novices should always himself, before attempting any passage not absolutely easy, see that the rope or ropes to himself are anchored at the end close to his following, leaving free for himself the full run-out of rope he will require. He should never risk their security in case of his slip, or his own security while climbing, by allowing the rope to be paid out as he goes by anyone ignorant of its management or too weak to check his fall.

On British climbs, such as may be, in their general difficulty, permissible to attempt with beginners, there are sometimes passages, say of slabs, which a novice weak in the arms finds he or she simply cannot manage without being hoisted on the rope. No expert will make one of a party of two with a beginner on any climb where he expects such a passage, unless he is very sure of a good stance above it, from which to haul, and of his own strength in relation to the weight of the novice.

In a party of three when such hauling has to be done, it saves the strain on the rope, on the second man’s arms and on the novice’s nerves, for the leader to wait with his second man on the stance above each particular pitch until the novice has been hauled up. He can also send down a second rope, and so divide the effort. If necessary, he unties from his end of the rope, in order to have a second rope to send down. If this is done quickly and efficiently, less time is lost than if the second man has to do all the pulling alone and on his single rope.

In such cases we must see that the haulee uses his feet to scrape with at least, and thrusts out from the rock with his hands. If he clings with hands and body to the rock, the effort, for all parties, is doubled by the friction.

Frequently on such places it is only the matter of one arm-pull or so at the start of a pitch that proves insuperable, especially for women. If there is no third climber to propel the novice, it is then better for the second man to wait on the stance below the pitch, to pass up the rope to the leader above, and himself to give a knee and shoulder as footholds up the difficult section. The actual haul will thus be shorter; or its necessity may be avoided altogether.

On exposed cliffs it is a mistake to leave the novice alone at the end of a long rope if there are difficult problems to tackle, and especially if these include any traverses. It is trying for the nerves and not good for the style. If the party is not large enough to have one climber always in attendance on the novice, the middle man should give him or her his company as often as his first duty to the leader will allow.

If, upon easy rock, a novice is taking his lesson in leading, the best climber should follow him on as short a rope as the rocks will allow. But he must avoid bustling or flurrying him, and observe all the rules of etiquette due to a leader.

Any request from a beginner for a ‘little pull,’ or for putting on the rope, must be always and at once complied with. Delay or reasoning may be dangerous, and will in any case shake confidence. The rope is for protection, nervous as much as physical.

[Sidenote: The Order of Moving.]

In ascending easy rock or in traversing easy ridges, all can be moving together, if the strength of the party allows it.

On difficult ascents or ridges, in a party of three or less, each moves singly. In a party of four, once the leader is up, number three may bring up number four while the leader is bringing up number two.

On steep ascents of moderate difficulty, in a party of three, if the second man is really sound and the stances allow of his managing two ropes, one running out and one running in, he may bring up the third man while the leader is still climbing. But the leader must be aware that he is doing so. In a party of four, on such ascents, the second and fourth man can always be climbing simultaneously. This double movement saves much time on long climbs.

On descents the same rules hold, in the reverse order.

For a strong party a possible variant may be mentioned. If the last man is sound, and feels himself secure, he can let numbers two and three descend to the full length of their ropes, both climbing at the same time. Number two starts as soon as number three has run out his rope, and so he enables number three to descend another length without pause. The last man then descends to number two, moving alone. On his arrival the other two start simultaneously again. If number three, however, is not dependable enough to move entirely without protection from number two, it is sounder for number two to remain at anchor while number three descends; but the last man meanwhile descends to number two. In this case the last man and number three climb simultaneously, while number two remains at anchor between them, and descends alone.

On either system a third of the time is saved. But all such accelerations must depend upon the relative difficulty of the several sections which each in turn is descending. If the lowest man wishes to be secured over a section, he must say so; and then number two must not descend simultaneously with him. If number two has found the passage of some section hard, he will need to give his full attention to the last man while he is descending it; and he must not then allow the lowest man to be descending at the same time as the last man.

[Sidenote: The Duty of the First Man.]

The leader on the rope _may_ be the manager of the party; but he should be, on any climb of difficulty, the best climber. His business is to get up rocks capably, and to get his party up. He is responsible for getting them out of their difficulties, and also for not taking them into them. He must know what the men behind him can do, as much as what he himself can do, on any given day. He sets the pace, selects the stances and directs the movements throughout the climb. He must be able to concentrate absolutely upon his task. He must be competent to distinguish between difficulty and danger, and to observe the differences between our two sorts of danger--between the objective perils of falling stones, storm, etc., and the subjective dangers which form a nimbus of potential risk surrounding every point of difficulty, contracting or enlarging according to the capacity of each climber dealing with the difficult point. To excel, he must be certain of knowing his normal standard and his standard of the day; be steel against spasms of mistrust, that consume strength even more than nerve; be resolute in advance, as resolute timely to retreat.

Most leaders have their personal tricks when ‘all out.’ Some are Olympian and impassive; some talk to themselves; some like to lull a hostile pitch into security by loudly protesting its hopelessness, with half a hope of catching it unawares; some like to hum or whistle; others have a tune or phrase running in their heads--most of us know the comfort of working our muscles to the accompaniment of some rhythm, audible or imaginary. Consciously or not, every leader draws upon the pooled confidence of the men behind him. In return he owes it to them to cherish the confidence so far as he can. He should avoid sharing his doubts over some difficult place with his friends unnecessarily. They cannot help him, and he will only undermine their confidence. He should never make demonstrations which may alarm those of the party who cannot see their true origin, or be of any use if they could. If he has a well-tried second, who knows too much about him to mind, he may let off steam to him. A little mystery and silence are rather a good fault in a first man; men do not want to be over-enlightened before their turn comes. But with a silent leader we are dependent upon a good second man to keep the party informed as to what is really happening. It is very depressing to be kept shivering on holds, and not even know whether the pitch is ‘going,’ or is even going to ‘go.’

A leader’s solitary battle with natural forces is so personal and isolated that it is harder for him to remember always what a heavy responsibility he carries for the whole party. No man but the leader ever knows what were the risks he ran or how near his shaves may have been. He is induced to forget them by the relieved admiration of those who have followed him on the rope, only too delighted to get up. Very few will be ill-mannered enough afterwards to recall their real feelings as they watched him take a rash chance, or tell him they thought him a silly ass. The leader has greater privileges, greater freedom and greater responsibilities than any other man of a party. To deserve them, he must never cease to study for others, never fear to decide for himself. In the words of a very great mountaineer, it is “that detachment of mind, commonly called courage, which, combined with high powers, alone makes the great leader.”

[Sidenote: The Duty of the Second Man.]

The qualities required for a good second man are all but as important to a rope as those of the leader, and are more rarely found in their perfection. A few ‘born’ leaders, who have learned their business by long experience, are independent of actual help and advice; but all leaders are, consciously or not, much influenced in their standard of the day, by the feeling of the spirit or the experience that is backing them immediately behind. A first man capable of rock work of the high modern standard must possess a ‘temperament.’ He is often a man of moods. The limit of physical possibility is so constantly approached on rock, that only men capable of high nervous concentration, able to call out their full strength and borrow again from their vitality and will, can keep their standard of performance securely up to the level demanded. In such performance the faintest doubt in the leader’s mind of the confidence or capacity of the man behind, the merest suspicion that his second man is not absolutely sure of his own stance or confident in his, the first man’s, leading, may lower a sensitive leader’s ability twenty or thirty per cent. The leader’s mind is distracted; his concentration on the single effort is dissipated. Even good, sound climbers, who take the important second place on the rope without knowing its duties, may retreat day after day to the inn speculating with their friends why their leader has so suddenly ‘gone off’: quite unconscious that they themselves are alone responsible. The leader himself may be, crossly, unaware of the reason. Not infrequently in such cases, in a vexed reaction from constant turnings back, he loses his better judgment and forces himself to attempt something reckless the next time he goes out. This will do him no good; nor will anything, until he changes his party or finds reason for better confidence in his second man.

[Sidenote: Backing up, metaphysically.]

A great university stroke used to say that, give him a good ‘seven,’ and he didn’t care how the rest of the boat was manned. Almost to the same extent, a good second makes a rope. He should be strong, able to give a shoulder, arm or hand, and to carry his leader’s sack as well as his own. He must be a fine enough climber to be able to follow up a step or two in the most awkward places, and thence to spare a hand to rest the leader’s strength or give him a fresh start. He must be equable in temper, optimistic, and, whatever his private thoughts, never less than cheerful. Above all, he must have the knack of transmitting his own feeling of confidence, so that the leader may feel a comfortable current of reassurance coming from his second’s secure stance to his own precarious advance. If his leader is of the highly strung, nervous class from which many great leaders are drawn, he must learn to gauge him exactly, know what form he is in, and decide whether he is up to doing the particular problem, so far as his climbing powers are concerned. If he decides he can, he must lay himself out to give just the quiet encouragement that will put his leader in the right state of mind to use his powers at their best. As to how he effects this, much must depend on the personality of the leader. Many a leader objects to being talked to. Conversation is generally waste of climbing time. He may take council how to do a place beforehand, but once he has started it will only disturb or distract him to hear advice or be asked anxious questions. None the less he is often quickly aware of the ‘atmosphere’ behind him; and he becomes conscious, without words, if his second’s attention wanders or if his confidence is wavering.

For this reason it is bad form, as well as a sign of inattentive mountaineering, for men to chatter to one another while the leader is doing something that requires all his skill. Much of his individual power is drawn from their sympathy, that should be then centred upon him alone. And this applies not only to the climbing of the leader. It is quite as bad form for him, when he is safely up, to exchange airy jokes across the head of another climber in the throes of a passage. A word or movement heard, or still worse, half heard, takes off the climber’s attention and dissipates the concentration necessary for a delicate balance or a supreme hoist.

Some leaders like asking questions about their difficulties, to which they expect answers, without any intention of attending to them. Others let off steam by declaring that it ‘won’t go,’ or they’re ‘coming down.’ Protest or argument will irritate them; what they are really asking for, unconsciously, is the confidence note in the voice behind them, the sense of a human sympathy that realizes their difficulty but yet feels them equal to it. It helps them greatly to be assured, by the tone more than by the words, of another expert’s complete belief in their ability to proceed. The second man gives his leader not only the support of his own faith: he is the funnel to the leader of the united spirit, the mutual support, which are pooled by the party, and upon which each draws again for his individual efforts. In his more dangerous and isolated work the leader, who needs it most, is most separated from its atmosphere, and it is the second man’s duty to keep him in touch with it, to control, as it were, the signals and air-pipes that keep the diver in touch with humanity and reassure him in his work.

At the same time, the second man should relieve the leader in difficult climbing, as far as possible, of all unnecessary physical labour: for instance, avoid asking help for himself with the rope; relieve him of pulling up the rest of the party; carry the sacks; and so on. He must be able, at times, to manage the leader’s rope and that of the man behind himself simultaneously. He has at such times to control the movement of the party, and determine when it is proper for the next man to start. He must decide where it is safe to let his leader run out his rope, with no more attention than will suffice to prevent it catching, and where, on the other hand, his rope will require every attention. His rope, belay and stance technique must be as practised as his judgment. If he decides that the passage is beyond the leader on his standard of the day, he should take the responsibility of saying so definitely, and share the vexatious responsibility of turning back. If a leader has been ‘all out’ on a pitch and yet failed, his judgment will be for the moment disturbed, and his decision as to whether he will try again or turn may not be a considered one. But if he has learned to trust his second, he will take his opinion in preference to his own, even though he might be himself considered normally the manager of the party. If it be to go forward, in spite of preceding failure, then he will renew his attempt with redoubled confidence; if it be to turn back, he will have the consolation of feeling that his second man was in the best position to watch the original effort, and was therefore better able to judge if a new attempt could succeed under any circumstances.

The second man has thus a most responsible position. While the leader is converting himself into a motor engine to get the party up the climb, the second man, even if he be not accepted as such already, becomes the temporary manager or mind of the party, conscious of it in all its mechanism, and not only of its dynamic leader. In severe rock climbing so much of the leader’s energy and time is spent on the physical struggle and in isolated situations, that the position of second may become for hours together the really vital one on the rope. His selection and education should be the first consideration for a party of ambition or merit.

[Sidenote: Backing up, physically.]

In discussing the order on the rope, we said that on all exacting rock the second man without exception backs up his leader, behind him going up, in front of him going down. On easier passages he may either lead the rope on a descent, or come between two weaker climbers on an ascent or descent.

The duties involved in backing up depend upon the situation. If the passage of descent to be made is long and holdless, and the leader, after letting the rest down, is unable to make use of the double rope, his second should remain as close as possible to him. A good second, from very sketchy stances, can often give just that touch of help or direction which makes the last man’s descent less solitary and precarious, and is of more use to him than much anchoring of his rope upon remote platforms below.

In ascending, again, by putting a hand or an axe under a leader’s heel when his toe is not over-secure, a second can often give his leader a security greater than his own may be at the moment. In fact, the duty of the second man, if he judges the place will go at all, is to sacrifice his own comfort and do anything that is not a definite risk to help the leader to get up more safely. A touch to his balance or foothold, judicious and opportune, is worth more as a protection than nine coils round a billiard-table boulder would be to him after he has slipped.

But backing up is subject to certain restrictions; a second must remember that he cannot do two things at once. If he helps with hand or shoulder or head,--that is, in climbing parlance, if he selects to identify himself with the active rope,--he has generally to sacrifice much of his value as buffer or anchor-man between the leader and the party. To be justified in so prejudicing his security as an anchor, he must feel wholeheartedly certain that his leader will not fail. It is often difficult to find a position of compromise, such as will allow him really to help the leader and also to retain his protective anchor for the party. He must be guided primarily by what he judges to be best for the collective safety, and only secondly by what contributes most to their success in getting up the climb. If he decides that no backing up on his part can make certain the leader’s ascent, whilst it sacrifices, in the attempt, his anchor in case of his fall, he must stay by his secure anchorage, and to such extent diminish the leader’s chance of success. But if he sees that his backing up can just make the difference to the leader’s safe and certain ascent, he is free to combine the claims of safety for the party and success for the leader, and move decisively and promptly to the leader’s support.

For a second man compromise, in such a choice, is always ineffective and sometimes dangerous. As one small instance: partly with the idea of doing both things, and partly from nervousness, many inexperienced seconds cling as close to the rock as they can when they are giving the leader a ‘shoulder,’ so as to remain more secure themselves. This is wrong. The nearer his human support stays to the rock, the more difficult is it for the leader to keep his balance as he stands upon him. If his second man then rises, as is often required of him, so as to give his leader an extra lift, as he stands on his shoulder or his hand or his head, his nearness to the rock thrusts the leader’s feet inward and his balance outward. The second man, when he gives a ‘shoulder,’ should aim at giving a really secure step on knee or hip or shoulder or head (for a good second can make his body a regular staircase, and painlessly, if he makes the right adjustments) as far away from the rock as he can securely thrust himself, even to full arm’s length. He is then in a position of some use; and should the leader’s re-descent be necessary, he can sometimes let him pass down inside, between himself and the rock. A good hold can be given, on a firm stance, by making a stirrup of the locked hands for the leader’s foot, and then straightening the back with a lift.

The tightened muscles of the thigh, well above the knee, give a painless foothold. The strong muscles at the junction of the neck, back and shoulder of a stooping man, but not on the point or in the curve of the shoulder, are good for a foothold. The hip-bone, provided that the leg using it is pressed close against the ribs over the hip, makes a useful foothold for a man descending from the shoulders.

In making use of these anatomical holds, the climber must remember never to shuffle or screw his boot once it is placed; otherwise the human frame is good for far more use than its owner will usually tolerate. I have had a guide of some weight, but of delicately managed feet, walking from my shoulder to my head and back again for twenty minutes, while he was trying to noose the lower pinnacle on the Charmoz, without feeling any great discomfort.

The second man should never give a leader so climbing any push or lift that will come to him unexpectedly. It is not uncommon to see a second man grasp a leader’s foot, as soon as it moves off his shoulder, and shove it indiscriminately upward, regardless of the leader’s balance or the holds he may be designing to use. The human ladder is only of use in so far as the leader can calculate exactly upon its location and function; it must remain for him as passive as any part of the rock he is engaged with. He steps from the thigh, puts his knee on one shoulder, and brings his other foot up on to the other shoulder; or he clings up his second’s back, if the second is standing upright, by knee pressure against his sides. Once he is up, he must know exactly where he will be able to put knee or foot in returning. If he has to descend from the rock on to his second again, he need barely use his boot at all. The instant his toe has discovered the position of the shoulder below, he can slide his leg down the back and let himself slip down, and the friction of the two surfaces of clothes will regulate his descent until his hands have reached the supporting shoulders. He must cling as close as possible to his second’s body and bend inwards, so as to relieve the outward strain upon his second’s balance, and he must never let his descending weight pull upon him askew.

The instant his leader is up and at rest, by the help of his impulses, moral and physical, the second man should prepare to follow, and as he approaches the leader’s stance he should notice exactly how he has placed himself, so that when the leader moves out he can put himself in the same position for holding. There should be no need for him to have to ‘get comfortable.’ If the third man is required to come up before the leader starts again, the second man should at once call, “Come!” and not wait to be asked, “Are you all right?” These seconds are, cumulatively, most valuable. In a good party the third man will be ready to start the instant he gathers that the man above has taken his stance.

[Sidenote: The Duty of the Third Man.]

In big alpine climbing, or on long mountaineering expeditions in general, yet another group of duties comes into prominence which cannot well be discharged by the leader and second man, who will have sufficient to do in looking after their respective functions. These create the position, for such climbing, of what may best be termed a ‘third man,’ though the party may consist of four or more, and the duties may be subdivided. If the second man’s duties may be called ‘backing up,’ the third man’s are those of ‘following up.’ He must be strong and able to carry, so that the spare rope and sacks of the leaders in really serious situations can all be discharged on to his shoulders without hesitation. He must be expert enough to manage a belay for both his leaders, if the situation demands the second man backing up the leader on an exposed passage, and be able to give them at least the moral support of his sound anchoring of the rope. He must have no false pride, and be prepared to get up himself as best and quickest he can, using the rope to save time. He must be always patient, ready to stand and shiver in his steps without complaint while the difficulties are solved. He must take the inevitable loosened stones, flying ice-chips and cleared-off snow incidental to his lower position with a hardened heart and, if possible, on a hard head, with no more than reasonable protest, and be able to see the humour of snow melting down his neck with the cheerfulness that it will afterwards he found to have caused to his friends. He must be prepared to go last, behind any weaker member, if there be four or more men in the party, and to look after him, following him up closely wherever he is able, without expecting help himself or much attention to his own rope. He must be good-tempered, ready to set the example of accepting decisions to turn back without discussion and even without knowing their reasons, and prepared in crises to remain quietly reassuring without bothering his occupied friends with questions. His use is, directly, as a support of strength and cheeriness to the leader and the second man if the serious nature of the climbing demands their combined preoccupation, and, indirectly, as an example of genial co-operation and ‘following up’ to other members of the party.

In a sense every member of the party should be a ‘third man’; but in big undertakings it is of undoubted help to the leader and second to have one man upon whom they can specially rely to look after the humour of the rest in the trying times of waiting while they themselves are working out the difficulties; to relieve them of the minor tasks of carrying and directing; and to come up without pride or protest in inconvenient ways, to inconvenient places, at convenient times.

[Sidenote: More about the Rope during Climbing.]

During all the intricate manœuvres incidental to combined climbing, the watch on the rope may never be relaxed, and a few further hints as to its management may be useful to leaders and followers alike.

With a rope, as with a horse, anticipation is the secret. Once it catches, or kinks, or entangles, the result is nightmare. Of its control, when men are moving together, I have already spoken: the perpetual glance, and flick, and swing, to keep it free, that must become subconscious.

In climbing singly on steep ascents, the rope, as it is drawn out by the man climbing above, must be watched as well as held, and warning must be given to him that it is running out at least four feet before it is taut. This is a primary rule. To jerk the man climbing, by a hitch, or to let the rope closure his advance without sufficient warning, is an unpardonable fault.

As we draw in the rope of a man ascending or descending to our stance, it should be gathered in neat coils, near the belay if one is used. Above all, it should be laid well out of the way--at the back or side of the stance. In pulling in the rope we must always consider exactly where the next man will come up and how he will stand; and lay his coil, as it runs in, as well as the coil of the man ahead, which is running out, where there is no chance that the rear man will be forced to ‘cross’ either rope. If our hands are occupied with holding or with the belay, so that we have no time to coil it down, the slack of the rope should be flung evenly over the arm, or somewhere out of the way, as it runs in. The moment the next man is up it should be passed to him in its chance coils; or else, if it has coiled down neatly, it may be left lying where it is.

If a belay has been used, the end of the rope running in should be taken off the belay as the next man reaches the stance, while the end of the rope nearest our own waist is put over it, lying always in the direction in which it will afterwards have to be paid out. These operations have to become practically mechanical. The instant the next man takes our place on the stance and imitates our last position, the rope, rightly laid, should be ready to his hand.

On severe climbs there is often not room for two men at the same time on the same stance or platform. To avoid any awkward juggling on the ledge, it is best for us, if we are holding, to move a step or two from the belay, so soon as we see the next man has got a good handhold near the stance that will bring him securely and immediately to the belay. In this case it is essential for us to leave the ropes lying exactly right, so that the next man may take position to protect himself, and us, with the shortest possible interruption to the safe continuous anchor of the rope.

The man who is actually climbing is the man first to be considered. To clear the way for him we must be prepared momentarily to sacrifice our own comfort or solidity. This may seem a commonplace, but it requires quite an effort of will. I have remarked even among good cragsmen that seven times out of ten they wait too long on the stance, until the next man is on the top of them, and ropes and legs are all in a muddle. But when, with the object of leaving the next man room, we move out of his way off a stance, we must take note exactly of what is going to be our own line of advance when he is secure and we start the next section; and we must avoid moving into any position which will mean repassing and unsettling him, or even, as one sometimes sees done, climbing over him. Apart from the risk to his and our own balance, we shall almost inevitably entangle the rope by a switchback of this sort.

In pulling in the rope of an ascending man, we should be mindful to keep it just taut, but never tightened or tugged, unless he calls for it. It requires some education of touch to distinguish between the three. Guides are wretched judges in this respect. “Don’t pull!” “Nicht ziehen!” “Ne tirez pas!” is the groan of protest that eddies all the week round alpine centres. But the guide remains convinced he merely had the rope ‘taut.’ All leaders who have never or seldom practised going behind on the rope are apt to make the same mistake. The complaint is constant. The difference between ‘taut,’ ‘tightened’ and ‘tugged’ is best learnt from below.

On the other hand, many climbers who have never led are equally unconscious of the difference, and of how much they owe on occasion to a discreetly handled rope. “You didn’t pull me there!” or, “I did _that_ without the rope, anyway!” are the common forms. Only a climber experienced in balance can honestly distinguish between the constricting tug that takes his whole weight, the taut rope that is only precautionary, and the delicate tightening that just serves to keep his body in balance and so allows freedom to hand and foot to find easy holds. The first is called “using the rope,” the second “without using the rope,” and the last guileless but material aid to adjustment is often euphemistically entitled “the moral support” of the rope.

I must repeat that, however easy the place or good the climbers, a man who calls for the rope, or a pull from the rope, should always be helped at once. Inexperienced climbers are incurably prone to argue that the rope is not really needed. Some accidents have been caused in this way. The rope should be put on before rather than when it is really wanted.

The rope of a man descending to our stance, especially of a man descending last, demands no discernment between subtler strains; but it requires even more adroit handling. It must never be jerked or tightened, which may pull him off his balance holds. If it appears to be catching on intervening points, it must be loosened with the lightest of flicks: a strong flick will run up the rope and jerk him like the crack of a heavy whip. It must never be left loose to drag or catch close to his feet, where it will get in the way of his foothold or get round his feet or legs. If he has a long rope out, the weight alone of the rope, if we hold it anything like taut from below, will drag on him. It is best in such case to keep it sliding gently down the rock towards us. As the climber moves down, a very slight motion of our hand will just free it, without taking its weight off the rock.

Our eye should never for an instant leave a man so descending to, or ascending from, our stance, so that if he finds it necessary to reascend or redescend a few inches in order to better his holds or position for the next movement, we may at once be ready to relax or take in the extra coil he requires or releases. If he is out of our sight while descending towards us, we watch the rope, which tells us as much as the sight of the man. If he is out of sight while ascending above us, our feel of the rope as it tautens or slackens will tell us almost as much as sight or speech. But a man ascending or descending out of sight below us will have to tell us what he wants, if it is anything more than the usual steady playing, out or in, of the taut rope.

If, as often happens in the case of a man who is just climbing up off our stance, the rope, owing to his having tied his waist-knot in front, or crossed the rope, makes a spiral round his leg, he should be warned at once, and we must hold the rope ready to swing it from under his foot as he raises it for the purpose. This sometimes also happens if a man is descending quickly on to our stance. In neither case must the rope be jerked or swung, to release it, without his knowledge or the signal of his lifted foot. Similarly, if a man is starting to descend from our stance, and has his rope knotted in front, as he turns face inward the rope makes a spiral round his neck or arm. A warning, and a light sway of the rope may prevent him from anticipating fate.

In climbing with beginners it is always worth while seeing, before they leave our stance, that the knot of their waist-loop is secure, and pulled round well to the side, under the arm. For ascending, the rope should run up straight from the knot, in front of the shoulder; for descending, in front of or behind the shoulder, as balance and the angle of the rock suggest.

A very risky practice, common with beginners, is that of using the active rope as a handhold in difficulties, to pull themselves up by. Unless they can reach a balanced position in one pull, they are forced then to keep hold of the rope for their balance, and to take yet a second and higher hold upon it for their next movement. They are thus accumulating a quantity of slack between their point of dependence from the rope and its noose on their waist. And a slack rope is full of dangers. If their grip fails, they fall all the length of the slack, and the rope may break. If it does not, the man above will be subjected to a most unfair jerk, of whose possibility he may be all the time unconscious. In any case, the climber is depriving himself of the steady help and protection of a rope, pulled in taut from above, on just the passages where he has found himself least capable to cope with the difficulties unaided. No climber should use the rope as handhold without full warning to the man above, and without making certain that he can in a single pull reach a balanced stance, where the rope can be again drawn taut upon him.

[Sidenote: With Stones.]