Our group of nine climbers heading to the summit of Mt. Baker via the Easton route, was only about an hour out of camp when “Scooter” (a composite of a number of climbers –including yours truly) needed to stop to catch his breath. I’ve been on a number of climbs where this action is the precursor to a climb from hell. The agonizing process is one in which the climber in question pauses to rest for a few minutes, then takes off, resolved to push on through. A short time later, the rope lead again feels a soon-to-be-familiar tug backwards, as the climber has had to stop once again to catch his breath. This stop-and-start, and tugging back-and-forth on the rope, followed by a collective “evil eye” at the person jeopardizing the summit and perhaps even safety, is painful for the whole group.

    Baker Morning
    Climbing Baker by
Jim Farris
We all come to a climb with different levels of fitness. Although we can change that over time, on any particular day our fitness level is pretty much fixed. A member of the team, in this case “Scooter”, may have thought that running around Green Lake a couple of times a week (if the weather was nice) was sufficient training for a climb. He found out abruptly that it wasn’t. Unless there is a safe place to “tag and bag” him to be retrieved on the descent (something I’m rarely comfortable doing), you and I and the rest of the team are stuck with “Scooter” and his physical limitations.

At this point, it is helpful to understand a little about the physiology of the body. The following is a very condensed and simplified outline. Because I’m not trained in this field, I am indebted to Covert Bailey and his book, Smart Exercise for what I do know. Muscles get energy from two sources of fuel – sugar (glucose) and fat. Most of this energy, about 70%, comes from fat, the rest from glucose. Glucose is burned first and most easily, but as there isn’t much of it, it runs out quickly. Fat is a little harder to get burning, but is in huge supply, even in fit athletes. Another critical fact for us is that fat cannot be burned without oxygen, while glucose can, though it burns poorly.

So back to “Scooter”— who heads out of camp mentally prepared to work hard, and has been panting trying to keep up. This is the glucose burning up. Then, as he takes a few minutes to catch his breath, some glucose is slowly replenished in the muscle cells. He storms off again, only to hit the wall soon after. The real problem is that “Scooter” is out of gas, and neither his motivation to keep up nor his pushing on the gas pedal is going to change that fact. His only hope at this point is to access that huge reservoir of fat energy – which can only be used aerobically –with oxygen.

    Eldorado
    Photo by
Daniel Arndt 
On this particular climb, I decide to try a different approach—one that I have used a number of times successfully since then. What has worked very well for me is to first talk with “Scooter,” making sure that he has eaten and is drinking water. I also check the weight in his pack. Since he has probably depleted most of his glucose stores (which are also needed in small quantities to burn fat as a fuel), I use and suggest energy gels, which seem to provide a good “kick start” to the fat burning furnace. Then I introduce “Scooter” to MY BEST FRIEND – the rest step. At the snow field trips, we spend some time covering the rest step, because it’s usually forgotten. The rest step used correctly allows a person to continue making progress at an aerobic pace. A person in “Scooter”’s spot usually has a lot of things going through his or her mind, but one idea that never seems to come up is that of slowing down – which is exactly what is needed.

It is almost a requirement to stand right next to “Scooter” and act as a coach. I start by telling him to take one step up, lock his lower leg, and then count seconds (one thousand one, one thousand two, etc). Initially, I start with a two-second count. The other people on the rope also need to know what the plan is so that they can match their pace to Scooter’s. I listen to his breathing – if it’s heavy and slightly labored, he’s probably alright. If he starts panting, I add another second to the count. Soon he finds that he can keep on going, instead of having to stop and catch his breath. The other members of the group may start gnashing their teeth because of the slow pace. I suggest they suck it up, deal with it, and carry some of Scooter’s gear. Once the other rope team members have had a chance to make the transition, it usually gets easier. The feeling of being brought up short by a taut rope is eliminated. They can take some solace in the fact that in a very real sense they are contributing to the success of the climb. It may not always be possible, but keeping the coach near “Scooter” to monitor his pace and offer encouragement and jelly beans can be really helpful.

The slow pace might seem to put the likelihood of a summit into question. On a recent climb of Baker via the Easton glacier, with “Scooter” using the rest step for all but the first hour of climbing, it took a total of 6 _ hours to get to the summit-slow, perhaps, but not unreasonable. On another climb of Baker via the Coleman glacier (camping at 7,200’), the rest step was used from the saddle to the summit, with a total climb time of 4 _ hours. These times are reasonable because we were able to make slow but steady progress without having to take many breaks.

The ideal climb is, of course, one where everyone is able to go at pretty much at the same speed—where you’re all able to get into that “zone” and not need the rest step. But if “Scooter” shows up on your climb someday, the rest step may be a tool that can salvage a summit for you and for a fellow climber in need of a little help.