Neel Parikh

Finger Injuries are as common to climbing as harnesses and rope, and I’ve been unlucky enough to have experienced a few of them of varying severity dating back to when I started climbing more seriously a fews years ago. My strength and technique were becoming respectable, I was feeling great, thinking that I would finally be able to get on some of those inspiring climbs that I had always wanted to try…. and then, BAM, I’m out for the count. It made me think… hmm.. maybe it wasn’t just a matter of being unlucky, but moreso a matter of recognizing the signs of imminent injury, utilizing proper pre and post-session stretching exercises, and treating symptoms before they got worse. Before anyone rants at me, I’ll say that I am by no means qualified to give any advice and that you should seek professional training and/or treatment, blah blah blah. Treat this as some bookmarks, and a bit of personal experience that you might find useful in prevention and treatment of finger injuries.

I actually started writing this post about a year and a half ago, after returning from another trip to the Red, where I pretty much sucked, due to what I assume was an A4 pulley injury. It seemed like every time I trained hard for trips, I’d end up with finger injuries and not actaully get to enjoy the trips – I’ve since learned that it was a combination of my training, overuse, and simply not treating the injuries properly and thus never allowing them to heal.

If you’re reading this, it’s probably because you know me, and not because you randomly googled “finger injuries” … if you did, you’re much more likely to end up finding a fantastic article written by Dave MacLeod on this exact subject. So rather than saying exactly what he said, but in my own, less scientific, less eloquent way, I’ll comment on a few things that have worked for me:

Rest:
Yes, it’s hard to stop doing someting you love, but tendon injuries take a while to heal. In all honesty, it wasn’t until I had an appendectomy and was forced to take 5 weeks off climbing that I actually felt like my finger had come close to a fully recovery. If you’re like me and just can’t stay away from the rock/plastic, at least be sensible about it:

• Cut out the hangboard training for a few weeks, particularly campusing.
• Avoid climbing anything too crimpy.
• Try to look at the brighter side of things. I used it as an opportunity to work on two things that I was particularly weak at: footwork, and slopers. Both have improved drastically as a result.

Tape:
There’s a lot of conflicting thoughts on whether or not taping helps. Some say it does absolutely nothing and is just a placebo with no purpose other than preventing flappers. Personally, I find that it helps significantly, but shouldn’t be over used. I would tape firmly for support to the pulley, but also overlap slightly onto the distal joint to prevent me from overcrimping. The other added benefit was that the tape would provide an extra layer of protection from any sharp rock/holds directly poking into the inflammed area.

I find that there comes a point in your recovery where tape will either do nothing, or end up causing more harm than good – By continuously taping and helping stabilize the finger, you may actually be preventing the tendons from developing this strength and stability themselves. In my case, I just knew when it was time to stop taping.

Anti-inflammatories:
Inflammation is the body’s way of dealing with injury, but when it becomes chronic, it’s likely doing more harm than good. Ice is always the go-to remedy for me – not only does it feel great, but it helps keep swelling down, and promotes blood flow. Oh, and it’s basically free.

I’ve had a limited experience with topical anti-inflammatories like Pennsaid and Voltaren, and the only thing that I can say is that they don’t tend to be particularly effective unless you use them a few times a day – putting Voltaren on an injury once a night isn’t going to help – you need to be hitting it every 4 hours or so.

Prevention:
Tendons aren’t like muscles, they take a long time to build up, and can be injured ridiculously easily, particularly with new climbers whose fingers have not been previously exposed to the kind of force that the sport often entails. When they DO get injured, they can take weeks or months to recover, so your best bet is to cut them some slack and try to keep them healthy. If you’re just starting out, ditch the hangboard. For beginners (and actually for almost anyone), the best training for climbing, is climbing. period. You don’t need finger specific training to pull on some 5.7s in a gym, it’s just an injury waiting to happen. The same goes for campus training – it’s a great tool for training for advanced climbing, but pretty unnecessary until you reach levels where finger strength and campus style movement is holding you back. That being said, if you are hangboarding, campusing, or just climbing hard, warm up! I see way too many “kids” walk into the gym, throw on a harness and start working on their 5.12 project or head straight for the training room. Climbing or training hard on cold fingers and muscles is just a bad idea… do an easy (V0-) 30-50 move traverse, then sit down and stretch out those muscles and fingers. Your body will thank you, and you’ll likely find that your fingers work so much better once they have some blood flow going. Even if I’m not training, I’ll still start my day with a route at least 3 full grades below my redpoint max, and work my way up. If adding 2-3 “easy” routes to your session over-tires you, then I dont think think finger strength should be your primary concern.

Other resources:
Here’s a few helpful pages – if you have any other recommended reading, please feel free to comment and I’ll add them to the list.

• Dave Macleod
• Eric Horst (some good diagrams here)
• ClimbingInjuries.com
• Finger Stretches (video)
• Hand Exercises

So it’s that time of year again. Yep, Red River Gorge time! It’s just such fantastic rock that despite the craptastic weather forecast, there’s still no way I’d bail on a trip to the Red. For those if you who haven’t been, the Red is a mecca of steep, juggy, powerful routes. Basically the complete opposite of the technical crimpy routes that I tend to be better at. This time I’m heading down armed with a winter of bouldering experience that should lend itself nicely to the kind of moves I’d need to actually send anything substantial down there. (speaking of which, if you’re looking for something less douchy than 8a.nu, check out Jamie Chong’s new site, www.sendage.com). The goal for the trip is a few hard 11′s, maybe work a 12 or two, but I suppose that’ll all depend on which way the wind blows, how many butterflies fart in Africa, and whether we can fend off the rain long enough to play on some fun routes…. because in the end, pushing grades is great, but taking a road trip, and having a blast on some quality rock with some quality friends is what I’m really stoked about.

Some the others in the group want to get onto BOHICA (Motherlode, 13b), which, to be honest, I think they’ll get totally spanked on (think 100ft sustained steep hauling on 2 pad holds after only training on 25 feet of plastic all winter… no offense to their skill, they’re all crazy strong, but I just think it’s a little ambitious). On a more positive note though, it’ll give them a good feel of what it’s actually like to get on a 5.13 outdoors, and what kind of training and commitment it’ll actually take to be able to send stuff at that grade. I think if I were to pick one climb at that level to strive for, it’d be Predator 5.13b at Rumney. The climb starts after the first pitch of Tropicana (my first 11a onsight with super fun movement), and just looks like a wicked good time! Check back in a year or so, an I may haven take a run at it, lol.

I assume that Predator gets it’s name from the epic prow finish, and BOHICA = “Bend Over, Here It Comes Again”. So that got me thinking about Transworld Depravity. What’s in a name? Google just left me even more confused. I don’t even know how to begin wrapping my head around what it has to do with the climb, but perhaps that’s because it’s been a looong day, and I really shouldn’t be up past midnight reading up on The Problem of Evil and The Free Will Defense. Damn you Wikipedia! I’ll get back to that one in the morning. More to come

22km or so that day… probably the longest I’ve hiked in one stretch, made even more ridiculous by the fact that I had a severely bothersome IT band in my left knee, and severely underestimating the amount of food I eat (seriously, it turns out it’s just absurd). I was ecstatic to make those last few steps to the Los Cuernos camp ground on the W-trek at Torres del Paine. Okay, wait, I’ll rephrase that: I was ecstatic to stop moving. At that time, I wasn’t thinking “maybe it would have been wiser to have a lighter, more compressible tent, and both save the weight on my knee and have more room for food”, I was thinking “this is going to be the best dinner ever, even if it tastes like crap!” I fired up the trusty Whisperlite and started cooking up a meal while Jon pitched the Limelight.

The weather was probably just about as awesome as it could possibly be, and by the time we finished dinner, it must have been 11pm, and the sun was finally almost down, revealing a pretty clear sky. The calm breeze made us feel regrettably confident in our ability to pitch a tent. So much so, that we didn’t even bother with the guy wires.

I slept like a baby… an exhausted baby… nice and comfortable on a (highly recommended) Therm-a-rest Prolite Plus (brand new for $40 from some shady guy on Craigslist). Until about 4am. That’s when we got our first truly Patagonian experience. We awoke to gale-force winds pounding the tent to the extent that if we weren’t actually in the tent, it likely would have flown away (as we later learned others had that night). Every once in a while, a gust would hit the tent hard enough to bend the pole and collapse the sidewall. I was honestly expecting a pole to snap, fly though the nylon and stab me in the face. I considered sleeping on my stomach, but the thought of a tent pole enema wasn’t much more appealing. We thought this would simply pass, but as the sun starting making an appearance an hour or two later, the wind was still happily being a pain in the ass. I decidied to man up and go outside to hammer in and bury the tent pegs and survey the damage. The, once calm, glacial lake, now had tidal waves. The wind was so strong it was actually lifting water out of the lake, and raining it back down on us. Brilliant. The contrast of weather compared to just a few hours earlier was like heaven and hell. It’s true what people say, never underestimate the weather in Patagonia… it will literally knock you off your feet if you’re not prepared.

Long story short: All things considered, I’m glad I sacrificed a bit on packing size and weight and went with the Limelight over something lighter like the Big Agnes Seedhouse SL. For places where weather is questionable, I’d rather have a roof over my head than worry about carrying an extra pound on the trail. Total damage: one slightly bent tent pole. The Limelight held up like a champ despite my dumbassery, and I’ve learned and important lesson about always setting guy wires

Pros:

• Bang for the buck – it’s cheaper than the competitors and comes with a footprint and (surprisingly handy) gear loft and pole repair sleeve.
• Well built with materials that aren’t likey to rip and keep water out
• The windows provide enough breeze to kill condensation, but still keep you warm on a chilly night
• Sets up fast thanks to well designed pole and fly clips

Cons:

• Weight and stuffed size – it’s definitely a bit bulkier than some ultra light competitors, and doesn’t stuff quite as nicely. I also found the poles were a tad longer than i expected.
• Windows obstruct views