Ice Tools

Dave Roetzel getting on The Fang
East Vail, CO

Nobody's built like you. Nobody's put together exactly the same way. You have a unique personality. And so should your ice tools. 

What works best for ice climbing is finding the perfect tools for you. The tools that feel like they were forged from your own body. Made for your grip. Extensions of your soul when you swing. Capturing all your energy in use, wasting nothing.

Special features and unique design elements really aren’t as important as the toolmakers make them seem. Forget what's cool. Forget the latest thing. What matters, as with boots, is the fit. And the feel.

I was in Chamonix. I’d been in serial monogamy for years, with many different axes and various pairs of ice tools, when I found myself admiring the eye candy at Snell Sports, the Toys R Us of alpinism worldwide.

My guide, Sandy Allan, picked up one of the new, big, burly technical tools that were all the rage that season. Leashless tools were just gaining acceptance, and I could see Sandy reckoning the odds of dropping this one from one of the overhanging routes they were made for. I could see it was heavy. He swung it thoughtfully, first with one hand, then with the other.

Don't forget spare picks and a file

Beside me on the wall was a pair of slender blue Simond tools. Daintier, lighter-looking, a little less aggressive by design in the shaft, with a more forgiving pick angle and a much more user-friendly, clip-in leash system. Perfect for alpine use, Sandy commented. But they could still work off leash. And he could teach me to file the pick for a more aggressive bite on steeper routes.

“Go on,” he said. “Give it a go.”

The tool almost leapt off the wall into my grip. It was light as a feather, easy to holster and clip, but stiffer than the well-made Charlet tools I’d brought on the trip. And when I swung the Simond, my energy transferred so perfectly, I stared in wonder at the arm extension I’d magically been given.

My ice tools, Simond Anacondas

Honestly, it’s impossible to describe the feeling of that first swing. Except to say it was bliss. We're talking magic moment. But it wasn’t what I thought that mattered. It was what Sandy saw on my face.

“There!” he grinned. “That’s the one. Look at you.”

I blushed. Yes, I’d found her. Anaconda was her name, and we were perfect together, and the wizened Scot could see it all on my face.

Forcing myself to be practical, I suggested trying out a few other sets of tools just to be sure.

“Rubbish,” he grunted. “That’s all you need to know. Take the pair.”

So I did. We've been together ever since.

Let me know when you find the right pair for you.