Crampons vs. Microspikes (and the bruises to prove it)
These are not crampons. They’re Kahtoola MICROspikes, and they’re awesome. And there’s a reason they’re listed under “Winter Traction,” not under Ice Climbing Gear/Crampons on EMS’ website.
For comparison’s sake, check out the aggression factor on these Black Diamond Sabretooth Pro crampons versus the Kahtoola MICROspikes. Much different.
But I forgot that last weekend while we were climbing Wright Peak in the Adirondacks. And I’m still picking scabs off of my left forearm to prove it.
Truth be told, I’d never even heard of microspikes until we visited the Lake Placid EMS to pick up some “beta” from the locals. I wandered off to check out the clearance rack (clearly, I need to stop doing that); when I returned, DJ and assistant manager Spencer were still chatting maps and routes, and DJ had two pairs of microspikes tucked under his arm. After a discreet “do-we-really-need-those” nonverbal discussion/eyebrow raise with DJ, he assured me (nonverbally) that we did, and I didn’t think too much more about it.
We passed a park ranger about a mile into our hike, who reported that it had been a no-incident day, and that we “wouldn’t even need spikes until after the falls.” Noted, and promptly forgotten.
It was pretty obvious what he meant by “after the falls:” 1). we crossed the stream. 2) a woman wiped out. Time to put on some traction.
Microspikes are actually pretty nifty — an elastomar harness fits snugly around the rand of your boot, and a stainless-steel chain with small ⅜” spikes adds traction to your tread. If you have a front welt in your toecap, the toe bar will fit in it nicely, but if not, no worries. You don’t need special boots or a tutorial to use them, and best of all, it’s possible to put them on without removing your gloves.
Microspikes on, we hit the trail. The difference was night and day on the mix of ice and bare rocks, and we were soon striding along confidently, kicking steps in (somewhat) jest and testing out their limits as we ascended.
That’s where I got into trouble. DJ scampered up a narrow chute of solid ice and disappeared around a corner, and, nearly to the top of the 30-foot section, I looked up to say thank you to two young kids waiting for me to pass and lost my footing. I nearly caught a tree trunk but missed, and with no ice axe to practice self-arrest, kept sliding until I hit a rock at the bottom. Luckily, I remembered to keep my knees loose and my arms out, and I landed unhurt except for a few cuts and bruises. (As a side note, it must have been a pretty impressive slide, judging from the “Holy [expletive], you scared me to death!” coming from the boys’ father). After a quick self-evaluation, I headed back up the trail, navigated several other extended frozen patches, and was rewarded with this:
Wright Peak summit
The view from the top prompted a little impromptu gear review of microspikes vs. traditional crampons, but more importantly, my technique — or lack thereof.
Here’s where I went wrong: My last memory before falling was of facing up the trail, then digging a toe into the slope to step forward as if I were front-pointing. Big mistake. Check out the front of the Kahtoolas versus the Black Diamond Contact crampons (fellow blogger Philip Werner’s gear review is here on www.sectionhiker.com)
Crampons vs. Microspikes
Big difference, right? The two stainless-steel points on the front of the crampons would have locked in firmly, allowing me to kick, plant my points, then stand à la German technique. Microspikes, on the other hand, are best utilized in steep conditions using French technique (flat footed and ankles flexed, with toes pointing parallel or outward), where all 10 spikes can bite into the ice.
French Technique
I still have the bruises to show for that mistake, but had I used the correct technique, I would have scampered up as quickly as DJ — or as the elderly woman wearing only YakTrax who zipped past us in all of our double-boots and crampon-wearing glory during a winter ascent of Mount Washington. I swear she was some kind of super-granny, but still — don’t underestimate the power of winter traction. Just be sure you remember which gear you’re wearing before asking it to do something it’s not meant to do.
