Something has been coming up in conversation a lot lately that I thought might be helpful to mention. Well, helpful if you’re a hiker or climber looking to take on rugged mountains or some other difficult terrain. Maybe this comes up around the water cooler at work, but more likely, it comes up on the trail or at the pub after a long climb. It’s the kind of thing you consider when your brain is so devoid of thought because of the exertion your body is expending, that the mundane becomes interesting. The simple becomes exciting. The easily overlooked becomes everything. And what is this tantalizing subject that only exhausted lunatics of the mountains delve into? Well, that, my friends, is the subject of lock-steps.
Lock-steps are something I learned about when climbing Mount Rainier. While working our way up the heavy snows, our guide instructed us to come to a brief rest with every step by “locking” our knees. What he meant was for us to straighten our leg after stepping forward so that our body weight relied on our skeletal frame for a moment. This gave our muscles the tiniest of breaks with each step, conserving energy that we desperately needed while attacking such a difficult mountain. It was such a simple tip—and an absolute lifesaver.
Would have needed a lot more of these on Mount Rainier if it weren’t for lock-steps
Give It a Name
You may have heard of this process referred to as a rest step, which is probably the more common terminology. I found a video online from another hiker who said that while climbing Rainier, he learned to call them “kick-steps.” Perhaps the terminology varies by the guides we choose. But whatever the naming convention—lock-steps, rest steps, or kick-steps—the movement is the same: make a deliberate step with one foot, then pull your leg up and lock it straight under you before moving on to the next step. It feels a bit robotic at first, but you quickly get used to it—especially when you see how much energy it conserves.
Lock-steps come in particularly handy during big mountain ascents or when lugging your skis for a few backcountry turns. They’ve helped me on long climbs where I’ve run out of food and water and have nothing but hope to consume, and they’ve helped me up steep pitches that seemed impossible to ascend. But with these small, methodical steps, I can calm any panic I have on a climb. Whether it’s the dwindling daylight or realizing I miscalculated the remaining effort still ahead, lock-steps get me through.
And while it slows your gait down a bit as you avoid lunging your way up a mountain, over the long haul, you’ll probably finish your ascent faster and with more energy than if you only relied on your muscles to do all the work. Big steps require big breaks, so by reducing the muscular strain, you’ll need less pit stops. Think of lock-steps as if you’re a car driving slower on the highway: you’ll keep more gas in the tank to get you where you want to go.
Don’t forget to save energy for the return trip!