The Skill of Choosing Your Next Climb
Choosing your next climb is one of the most valuable skills you can develop as a climber. After reading this post, perhaps you'll head to the crag or gym and notice how often you have to do this. When standing at the base of a climb, racking up your gear, or arranging your bouldering pads, pause and ask yourself, ‘Why did I choose this one?’
Learning how to make this decision is crucial for your improvement as a climber. After all, how your body adapts depends on the climbs you choose–once you understand this critical relationship between you and your chosen climbs, the possibilities to improve are endless.
“Whether you’re flipping through the guidebook at the crag, picking a route in the gym, or selecting your next boulder on the Kilterboard app, you’re constantly deciding—what should I climb next?”
Climbing is the Best Training for Climbing
Over two decades of climbing and coaching, I’ve noticed something: the best climbers prioritize climbing itself over structured training programs. In fact, many successful climbers just go climbing. If you ask any coach how to improve your climbing, they’ll all say the same thing – ‘climbing is the best training for climbing.’ And then, after a pause, the conversation drifts back to the newest hangboarding fad.
It’s the pink elephant in the room.
The most apparent and essential element of our climbing progression receives minimal discussion and consideration. We're told to ‘just go climbing,’ but the question remains: how do we decide what to climb?
“The climbs we choose define our strength and skill as climbers. Mastering this decision-making process is crucial for improvement.”
The Road to French 8a (Oops, Actually, 7a)
It was the last day of school before my Easter break in the Spring of 1998. I squeezed into the back of my older friend’s VW Golf, and we set off toward the Belfast ferry port. After a few years of climbing, I was finally on my way to test myself on the famous cliffs of Buoux, France.
I had my eyes set on the magical grade of French 8a. I was quietly confident. After all, I’d recently climbed the hardest routes in my local climbing gym and could easily do a one-arm pull-up. Surely, I was strong enough to climb 8a?
I decided to take it easy for the first few days and headed up to the famous Plage, a fossil-covered ledge halfway up the cliff, with a selection of bouldery, pocket-featured climbs in the 7c range. This would be a perfect warmup for my 8a project. I clipped the first bolt off the ledge, tried to pull on a positive 2-finger pocket, and discouragingly sat onto the rope.
With a slightly dismayed expression, I peered down at my eager partner, Steven.
‘Wow,’ I exclaimed. ‘This climb is hard.’
For the next 20 minutes, I tried to get past the first bolt with no success.
‘Perhaps this one doesn’t suit me,’ I declared. After all, I’d never actually pulled on a pocket before. I decided to try the next route over.
The same thing happened. I didn’t make it past the first bolt. I remember feeling surprised. 7c felt tough!
On each day of the week-long trip, I worked my way down the grades, trying slightly lower-graded routes with little success.
On my final day, I begrudgingly climbed my first 7a, La Rose Des Sables–a stunning and proud line up a steep wineglass-shaped feature at the far end of the cliff. My first attempt on the route was an intimidating experience. I hung in my harness on a bolt for 10 minutes halfway up the wall, building the courage to commit to the run-out and exposed pocket-pulling crux.
After returning to the ground and recomposing, I sent the climb on my second attempt. The challenge was thrilling; with success right on the edge of uncertainty, I battled through the crux, just about maintaining composure until I reached the anchor.
And right then, the trip was over.
On reflection, I felt confused. I had just had a magical experience on my first 7a, yet somehow, the trip felt like a failure. Instead of embracing joy from the wonderful experience on La Rose, my emotions were dominated by frustration.
There was a disconnect between my expectations and reality. And on top of all this, I’d barely done any climbing.
Every Climb is a Tool
I wish I could say that my first trip to Buoux was a turning point. In truth, it wasn't. For years, I repeated the same mistake in varying degrees, impacting my progress and enjoyment of climbing. More than anything, I wanted to improve. But in hindsight, I didn’t understand how.
In those early days, I viewed climbs as trophies—something to be won—and believed the highest-grade climb had the most value. With this mindset, I used the grading system as my primary climb selection parameter. I continually searched for the highest-graded climb I might have a chance of completing. I would return to projects for many sessions and make incremental progress, often feeling frustrated by the climbing experience.
Entire seasons would pass, and I would have only climbed a handful of climbs. I didn’t realize it then, but this approach created a sub-optimal learning environment. Further confusing me, I succeeded on some high-graded climbs, creating false reinforcement that I was making good decisions.
As time passed, the impact on my climbing progression became clearer. I had confused my goal of becoming a better climber with climbing the highest-graded climb. And my behaviors were in line with the wrong goal!
Like many behavioral habits, the difference between optimal and suboptimal can be subtle on a day-to-day basis. However, the cumulative impact over months and years is immense.
I realized I had been approaching things entirely backward, but slowly, my perspective began to shift. Instead of viewing climbs as trophies, I began to see each climb as a tool to teach me climbing skills. This fundamental shift in perspective had a transformative effect on my climbing progress. By reframing every climb as a tool, I developed a route selection system that maximized my skill development.
“Instead of viewing climbs as trophies, I began to see climbs as tools to teach me climbing skills.”
An Optimal Challenge Level (The Magic Zone)
When you study the habits of climbers, you’ll notice that the best climbers are always sending. And they’re not just sending casual climbs. They’re sending challenging climbs right at their limit—all the time. This isn’t by accident. These climbers are searching for the most powerful learning environment. The more time you spend in a powerful learning environment, the faster you improve.
A core feature of this powerful learning environment is the challenge level–the level of difficulty of the climb relative to the climber. To discover this optimal challenge level, we must consider two somewhat antagonistic variables: uncertainty and success. To improve our climbing optimally, we must select climbs hosting both.
Uncertainty triggers learning. To learn effectively, there must be a difference between what we expect to happen and what actually happens. If the outcome is inevitable, then learning is significantly reduced.
Success creates a positive feedback loop that tells us whether or not our attempted solution was effective. Without success, we can’t reinforce our effective behavior.
This combination of uncertainty and success encourages us to calibrate our skills in the environment. The result? Our climbing ability improves. I call this challenge-level sweet spot the Magic Zone. The more time you spend in the Magic Zone, the faster you improve.
Reflecting on La Rose Des Sables
When I think back to my ascent of La Rose Des Sables in Buoux in 98, it had all the characteristics of a Magic Zone experience. Standing under the climb, I was unsure what would happen. I battled through uncertainty and successfully clipped the chains on my redpoint. Despite feeling like a consolation prize due to my unrealistic expectations, the experience was exhilarating and joyful.
Ironically, I had discovered the fastest path to 8a without realizing it! Because I didn't recognize this then, I didn't seek out more of these optimal learning experiences until many years later. Reflecting on my early years of climbing, I can identify the routes that provided the most growth. Most of the time, I stumbled upon them by chance rather than by intention.
“Choosing climbs requires practice and constant calibration—it’s a skill in itself.”
Choosing Climbs Wisely
These days, I choose climbs differently.
Instead of searching for a specific grade, I search for a particular level of challenge–the Magic Zone.
I approach each climb as an opportunity to improve my skills, seeking challenging experiences that host both uncertainty and success.
I continually adjust my decisions in each session and from one day to the next because the climbing environment is ever-changing, and I am constantly adapting.
Conditions differ from session to session, fatigue levels change, and short-term neuromuscular adaptations vary. My skill levels fluctuate from one climbing destination to another.
With thoughtful climb selection, I can manage these perturbations and stay in control of my experience. I can design my practice environment to maximize my climbing progress and maintain a strong positive relationship between my expectations and reality.
Choosing climbs requires practice and constant calibration—it's a skill. Even today, I occasionally get it wrong, but I quickly recognize the mistake and adjust. I aim to help you avoid the same mistakes I made in my early climbing days. Take control of your climb selection and skill progression. Notice when you're in a powerful learning environment, and if you want to improve your climbing optimally, take charge of your climb choices and actively seek out these experiences.
Summary
TLDR: Rather than chasing grades and viewing climbs as trophies, instead view climbs as tools to develop your skills. Seek challenges that push you outside your comfort zone but where you can still succeed. This "magic zone" of uncertainty and success will maximize your learning and accelerate your climbing progress.
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Thanks for reading.
- Simon
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Some references from this post
Henz, D. and Schollhorn, W.I., 2016. Differential training facilitates early consolidation of motor learning. Frontiers in Behavioral Neuroscience, 10, p.199.
Schollhorn, W.I., Hegen, P. and Davids, K., 2012. The nonlinear nature of learning: A differential learning approach. The Open Sports Sciences Journal, 5, pp.100-112.
Guadagnoli, M.A. and Lee, T.D., 2004. Challenge point: A framework for conceptualizing the effects of various practice conditions in motor learning. Journal of Motor Behavior, 36(2), pp.212-224.
Boulanger, J., Seifert, L., Herault, R., & Coeurjolly, J. F. (2016). Automatic Sensor-Based Detection and Classification of Climbing Activities. IEEE Sensors Journal, 16(3), 742–749.
Button, Chris; Seifert, Ludovic; Chow, Jia Yi; Araujo, Duarte; Davids, Keith. Dynamics of Skill Acquisition (p. 10). Human Kinetics. Kindle Edition.
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