Flow

Have you ever done a route on which you struggled like a bastard, arms redlining, veins bulging, heart sounding as if Ginger Baker was doing a drum solo inside—one of those routes where, when you get to the top, you swear you’ll never climb again? But you do. And somehow, beyond your better judgement, you find yourself back below that very same climb, giving it another go.

And you do, only this time every hold seems bigger, better. Your feet stick like glue, legs like pistons, arms ape-strong, your touch feather-light on every hold. You float up the route as if you’d headpointed it, simply dancing up the rock. What’s the deal?

The same applies to hard routes you’ve coveted for years—the hard classics, the rites of passage. Many of these climbs are a struggle not because of the difficulty, but because of the sheer weight of their history and reputation. I remember nearly blacking out on Vector I was so intimidated by its history on the crux pitch. But every now and then the stars align and your dream route is climbed as if you’re in a dream, not a nightmare, and you simply flow up the rock.

These climbs often lead to the leader doubting the guidebook grades, thinking it was far easier than described. The same happens in reverse when you’re not flowing. But of course neither is true.

What you’re experiencing—the thing all climbers, and really all human beings, want to experience—is called flow.

Flow

In positive psychology, flow, also known as the zone, is the mental state in which a person performing an activity is fully immersed in energized focus, full involvement, and enjoyment in the process. In essence, flow is characterized by complete absorption in what one does. Named by Mihály Csíkszentmihályi, the concept has been widely referenced across many fields, though it has existed for thousands of years under other guises, notably in some eastern religions. Achieving flow is often referred to as being in the zone.

When you reach this state, climbing feels easy. It’s also the only state in which the hardest climbs can be done, which means the best climbers are as good at getting into flow as they are at pulling hard.

Achieving Flow

In climbing, the four most important aspects needed to experience flow are:

• Skill. The development and mastery of climbing skills: movement, placing protection, ropework, belaying.
• Physical literacy. Confidence that your body can meet the challenge you’ve set it, including technique, strength, and stamina.
• Focus. The ability to apply your full attention to climbing—movement, reading the rock, monitoring your thoughts. If all you can think is “this is desperate” or about placing gear in case you fall, you’re not focused.
• Mental strength. The ability to draw all of this together and hold it when something goes wrong: a foot pops, fear creeps in, rain starts falling.

To achieve flow you need to raise each of these to a high level. When a climber is really struggling it’s usually because one or two of these are missing.

Flow Foundations

The only real way to achieve flow is to progress slowly, allowing each part to be built and reinforced. Push too far beyond any one of these and you’ll struggle. You might still get up, but it won’t be fun.

This means climbing a lot. When we look at someone like Alex Honnold, who embodies flow, it’s easy to forget just how many tens of thousands of metres of rock he’s climbed. It’s also worth noting that soloing demands flow—falling isn’t an option, so the mind must focus and the body must be equal to the task. Soloing without flow is dangerous, just as climbing hard routes without gear is.

Next time you climb, ask yourself at the top how you did. Your skills. Your body. Your focus. Your mental control. If you’re not finding it, drop a grade or two and build it from there.

And when you do hit flow on a hard route—when it’s just your consciousness and the rock—it’s perfect. It’s ecstasy. It’s what all climbers are really searching for.