Where Does Scrambling End and Free Soloing Begin?

I recently received feedback challenging the use of the term “scrambling” in an article I wrote about Flatiron unroped climbing. The Flatirons of Boulder, Colorado, are known for their high-friction sandstone slabs and long, exposed low fifth class routes—some stretching over 1,000 feet. Since 2016, I’ve climbed around 100 unique routes unroped in the Flatirons and adopted the locally favored term “scrambling” to describe this activity. But is that truly the best term?

In the U.S., if one adheres to the Sierra Club scrambling ratings framework, which is part of the Yosemite Decimal System (YDS), then scrambling refers to moving in Class 2, Class 3, and Class 4 terrain. According to the YDS, Class 5.0 and above is classified as technical climbing—and climbing those grades without a rope is often considered free soloing. But in practice, climbers use the term scrambling—when applied to ropeless ascents—subjectively and inconsistently.

Since language plays a vital role in risk assessment and communication among climbers—especially in the age of social media—I believe it is worth an exploration of this issue.

Some “official” scrambling definitions

The Sierra Club refers to Class 2 to Class 4 as scrambling and offers lengthy definitions for each subclass in the YDS scrambling framework. The Sierra Club describes the subclass 4.2 as follows:

“Extensive, very hard scrambling on extremely steep and sometimes unstable rock with severe exposure. Very hard scrambling on multiple or sustained segments totaling over 50 feet of very steep, highly exposed rock that at times is unstable.”

The nonprofit’s framework also adds some warnings to anyone taking on this terrain without a rope. It recommends testing each hold, as well as having intermediate climbing and route-finding skills. “Route-finding errors often lead to technical rock,” the Sierra Club cautions. It also states that most climbers on 4.2 routes would desire a rope and a helmet, since “a fall poses a high risk of serious injury or death.”

For what it’s worth, no international agreement exists on where scrambling officially ends. The British Mountaineering Council notes that scrambling at the highest UK grade (Grade 3) can include sections equivalent to YDS 5.2–5.3 (UK grade “Difficult”). In other words, what’s considered scrambling in the UK could already be seen as climbing in the States.

The Flatiron-centric view of scrambling

There’s a distinct scrambling subculture in Boulder, where many outdoor enthusiasts routinely climb up to 5.6 without ropes on the Flatirons and still refer to it as scrambling. To be fair, the Flatirons lend themselves to this because of their slabby nature (typically between 45 and 50 degrees), their high-friction sandstone, and their proximity to a large, active outdoor community.

The term “scrambling”—used to describe ropeless ascents of low fifth-class terrain in the Flatirons—propagated in the 1990s. A small group of climbers and trail runners who met—often before work—for outings that blended trail running with unroped climbing popularized the term. Over time, “scrambling” stuck, becoming a fixture of Boulder’s outdoor vernacular.

One of the pioneers of modern day Flatiron scrambling, Buzz Burrell, defines scrambling and free soloing based on how it’s done: “If I’m moving upwards primarily with my feet, with hands for stability, balance, and security, that’s a scramble. If my arms are helping me move upward, that’s a climb.” In his view, it’s not the technical grade that defines scrambling—it’s how the movement feels.

Scrambling vs. free soloing: The language of pro climbers

In many ways, professional climbers and guidebook authors set the tone for the climbing community. The language they use matters and influences others. So I reviewed how several pro climbers who have climbed ropeless in the past refer to the activity, and reached out to some for their insights on the matter.

Of course, the most prominent example is Alex Honnold, one of the world’s most renowned climbers and free soloists, who often refers to ropeless Class 5 ascents as scrambles. Honnold resides at the apex of unroped climbing, but this shows that even at the highest levels of the sport, the term scrambling remains fluid and subjective. The Oscar-winning documentary Free Solo, which profiled Honnold free soloing El Capitan in Yosemite, certainly raised awareness about ropeless climbing—albeit at the highest level and to a general audience.

But other climbers are more reluctant than Honnold to use the term “scrambling.” Canadian ice climber and guide Will Gadd says that the differentiation in terms should come down to the consequences. He defines scrambling as low-consequence terrain that can result in bumps, bruises, and maybe even a hospital visit. But he says it’s soloing  “if there’s a lot of ‘death’ fall potential” even if the route itself is technically easy. He warns that calling terrain with serious consequences “scrambling” downplays risk, especially when “easy” terrain is still deadly. Gadd urges climbers to communicate risks honestly, especially in the social media age. (He recently went into a deeper dive on the subject on his website.)

Others—like American climber and alpinist Brette Harrington—believe that the threshold between scrambling and free soloing is ultimately subjective. For her, the distinction is primarily about mindset. Scrambling represents a “cruising” mindset mode, while free soloing entails a “shifted on” or highly focused mentality. She emphasizes that climbing unroped can carry deadly consequences and one should not make decisions based on what somebody else did. Personal responsibility, according to Harrington, is paramount and individuals must assess risks for themselves.

Some use a combination of criteria. In a 2023 blog post, Iain Thow—author of the Scottish Mountaineering Club’s Highland Scrambles North and South guidebooks—says, “When does scrambling become rock climbing is a question often asked, and really there is no clear answer—or rather there are several.” He goes on to explain his personal rationale that settles on a definition combining technical difficulty and consequence.

The well-regarded book Mountaineering: The Freedom of the Hills bases the transition from scrambling to technical climbing on technical difficulty (and whether a rope would typically be used on the route in question): “… scrambles are referred to as second-, third-, or even fourth-class terrain.” It also mentions the typical non-use of a rope: “Scrambling, or non-technical climbing, generally occurs on less difficult, rock terrain that a party typically does not rope up for.”

The above examples illustrate the currently individualized nature of the terms scrambling and free soloing. The predominant frameworks for which terms to use when include:

• Technical difficulty (Freedom of the Hills, in line with the Sierra Club)
• How the movement feels (Buzz Burrell)
• Mindset (Brette Harrington)
• Consequences (Will Gadd)
• A combination of technical difficulty and consequences (Iain Thow)

These individualized criteria aren’t mutually exclusive, and some climbers use a combination of these factors when deciding what to call any given ropeless ascent.

Definitions aside, at the end of the day, the technical difficulty of a climb remains the same regardless of whether it is climbed with a rope. The consequences of an unroped ascent don’t changed based on what you label it. And one’s mindset, how a movement feels, or whether one requires a rope are all highly personal decisions.

A pragmatic approach to language subjectivity

To be clear, I’m not writing this to legitimize or delegitimize any particular use of the term scrambling. My aim is simply to highlight that the term is subjective, individualized, and inconsistently used. In the absence of universally agreed upon definitions, I hope this conversation encourages climbers to consider the following when making a decision to climb without a rope:

External factors

• Recognize the inconsistent use of the term “scrambling”
• Reflect on how external influences—social media, guidebooks, peers—may shape your perception of difficulty or risk

Ropeless risk assessment

• Understand what you’re getting into: technical grade, nature of the terrain, quality of rock, exposure, weather, etc.
• Honestly assess and consider the consequences of a fall

Self-awareness

• Acknowledge your own limits, strengths and weaknesses, skills, and experience level
• Reflect on why you’re personally drawn to a given route or style—are you climbing what you’re climbing for the right reasons?
• Guard against complacency, especially on familiar lines

For my part, and in the interest of clarity, I will start including the technical grade alongside any route I refer to as a “scramble” on social media. Doing so helps better communicate the objective difficulty and potential seriousness of a route, and keeps things more transparent within our community.

One thing I hope we can all agree on—nomenclature aside—is that climbing without a rope is serious and can result in life-altering injuries or death.

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