After the Climber I Was Guiding Passed Out, I Adopted These 3 Non-Negotiable Rules

“I’m going to pass out!” gasped my client (let’s call him “Chad”). Before I could respond, his eyes rolled back in his head. He then projectile vomited and slumped at the anchor, completely unconscious. “Holy smokes, he wasn’t kidding,” I thought.

Chad had been working hard on the previous pitch, roasting in the sun, but it didn’t seem hot enough to make someone pass out. I shook his shoulder and kept repeating his name in an effort to wake him up, my heart pounding. After what felt like way too long, he started to come around, eyelids fluttering while he mumbled incoherently.

I took a deep breath and gathered myself. As a climbing guide, this is what I’d been training for. I made a point to remind myself that I could handle this. Over the last five years, with excellent mentorship and dozens of days invested in professional American Mountain Guides Association (AMGA) training, including my Advanced Rock Guide course, I had the experience and skills required to handle this sort of scenario. I just had to relax, make good decisions, and deal with the most important problems first.

First, I backed up the belay system with independent clove hitches. Then I transitioned the belay for my second client—who was still climbing the pitch—into a lower and got them back to the ground. Leaving my belay anchor in place, I rigged a tandem rappel with Chad, who was now conscious but still unreliable, to get us both to the ground. I left the ropes hanging to help facilitate anchor retrieval later, and we made our way to the car, then to the hospital.

When all was said and done, Chad received two liters of saline solution intravenously, but was otherwise no worse for the wear. He learned the importance of rehydrating after long bike rides, like the one he’d taken the day before—especially before partying all night, then heading out to rock climb the next day.

While this scenario ended up being fairly simple from a rescue standpoint, it made quite an impression on me as a young guide. I spent a lot of time reflecting on the experience and debriefing with my mentors.

Ultimately, I learned three valuable lessons from this rescue. And to me, each of them remains relevant and valuable to both guides and recreational climbers alike to this day.

3 lessons I learned during my first rescue as a guide

1. Stress is debilitating. That means our skills must be second nature.

No one performs their best when they’re in a stressful, overwhelming situation. At best, we will only perform to the level of our training. In high-stress or emergency situations, performance suffers, making true proficiency essential if we are to be effective when it matters most. By training beyond what we expect to ask of ourselves “in the moment,” we ensure our skills remain reliable and accessible under pressure.

There are levels to learning and applying skills. While learning a specific skill or sequence is a starting point, it’s unrealistic that this level of performance will yield positive results when faced with a unique situation, which every real rescue is. We should all strive to not only understand and apply skills we’ve learned, but to also go deeper and grasp the underlying concepts at play. How might you achieve an end result or “solve the problem” in any number of possible scenarios, with real-world variables at play?

In the case of this rescue example, understanding how to make secure and quick transitions of both weighted and unweighted rope systems was critical for me to get both of my clients safely to the ground in less than 10 minutes.

2. A solid foundation of basic skills is the most important element of any climber’s development.

Fundamentals are exactly that—foundational. Without a strong grasp of the basics, everything built on top of them becomes unstable and unreliable. Advanced techniques and “sexy” tricks can be fun to learn, but they are ultimately just decorative icing on the cake. True expert-level performance is the ability to apply the simplest concepts in an advanced and nuanced way.

Becoming really good at tying bight knots, clove hitches, munter mules, and reliable friction hitches with a variety of materials are a few examples of fundamental skills for climbers. Understanding weighted and unweighted belay transfers will help you start seeing and understanding rescue systems. Simply taking over a toprope belay from a friend with a climber already up on the pitch is a great start (see the video above).

Being able to ascend a fixed rope, or haul and lower your partner from above, are more examples of skills that all climbers would benefit from being proficient with.

A strong foundation of basic skills is the start to being able to help others, when it matters most. That goes for guides and everyday climbers alike.

3. Human error is the greatest risk factor for every climber.

No matter our experience level, training, or intentions, we are all human—and humans make mistakes. Fatigue, stress, complacency, distractions, and overconfidence can all contribute to errors, even in familiar or routine situations. Experience does not eliminate mistakes; it simply changes the types of mistakes we are likely to make. Because errors are inevitable, our focus should not be on trying to be perfect, but on building habits and systems that anticipate failure and help catch mistakes before they have serious consequences.

Conservative practices and deliberate checks act as safety nets when something is overlooked or done incorrectly. Developing habits such as partner checks, closing the rope system, and standardizing our communication are all investments that will pay dividends.

By consistently reinforcing simple, repeatable habits and designing systems that are forgiving of human error, we increase our margin for safety. The goal is resilience—accepting that mistakes will happen and preparing for them accordingly. That way, when—not if—our next mistake occurs, we catch it early and prevent the situation from becoming catastrophic.

So, in summary, that experience years ago with a dehydrated client made it clear to me that solid fundamentals, good habits, and stress management are all essential parts of enjoying climbing. And in my case, these guidelines help me guide responsibly. By learning from accidents and mistakes, we can each develop a more sustainable climbing career. Ultimately, that lets us enjoy the sport we all love for many years to come.

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