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‘My magic cam’: a more-than-representational

account of the climbing assemblagePaul Barratt

Department of Geography, Staffordshire University, Stoke-on-Trent, Staffordshire ST4 2DE

Email: [email protected]

Revised manuscript received 10 October 2011

This paper adds to debates on bodies and materiality concerning how we experience places not only as

bodies but as complex assemblages. It engages with the relations between climbers, their kit and the

places in which they climb to explore how during the situated practice of climbing, climbers and material

artefacts co-evolve resulting in a diverse array of synergies that co-enable the climb. Differing roles and

functions emerge and are negotiated between climber, crag and kit. These roles and functions go beyond

those detailed by manufacturer-ascribed use-values that define their ‘proposed’ or ‘proper’ role/s and

limits within the climber’s safety assemblage. Drawing upon semi-structured interviews with climbers, I

use Actor Network Theory to explore the enabling, situated, contingent and co-emergent relations

between climbers and their kit and show how more-than-representational dimensions of their environ-

mental engagements are dependent upon entering into symbolic and synergistic relationships with

material others.

Key words: materiality, bodies, more-than-representational, assemblages, rock climbing

Introduction

[Climbing] Gear1 is one of the three factors, yourself andthe rock being the others. You are the main one but it’severy much as part of the formula as the others. It’s howyou react with the rock and how you react with your gear.It’s what means you get up, or means you don’t get upsomething. So it’s crucial. And I say it’s part of it, placinggear is climbing, as much as grabbing a hold and pulling,because it’s an essential skill, an essential part of theformula. (Carl 46)

It is widely accepted that new technology ‘increasingly

affects/infects the minutiae of everyday life and corporeal

existence’ (Grosz 1994, 48), and that operating as assem-

blages, or with co-agents, bodily abilities are altered

(Michael 2000 2009). As Carl above emphasises, without

technology climbers wouldn’t be able to access the

outdoor worlds that they crave. In climbing, the techno-

logical enablement is seemingly stark and apparent; shoes

grip, harnesses secure and ropes ensure safety. However,

I contend that beneath the surface of this activity lies a less

palpable situation where networks of technologies subtly

enact the climb through relations that are immanent to,

and reinforced by, practice. The climb is an outdoor

hybrid assemblage comprised of the climber, objects and

mundane technologies that enable the extension of

human corporeal capacities.

Like Bissell’s (2010) recent article in this journal, this

paper draws upon Actor-Network-Theory (ANT) in order

to contribute to geographers’ understanding of materiality

and corporeality as fused rather than dichotomised, in this

case through the practice of climbing. By examining how

co-evolutional technologies combine with the body,

extending its performative ability to climb, this paper

explores how this fusion becomes manifested and sus-tained through practice. I intend to develop the contribu-

tions of authors in this field such as Urry, who claims:

Various objects and mundane technologies facilitate thiskinesthetic sense as they sensuously extend humancapacities into and across the external world. There arethus various assemblages of humans, objects, technolo-gies and scripts that contingently produce durability andstability of mobility. (2001, 4)

In accordance with Urry, whilst formulating this

research I had certain preconceptions concerning how the

climbing body was enabled with technology. My precon-

ceptions were centred upon the striking figure of the ice

climber (Plate 1). The ice climber is clad in high-tech gear:

wicking base-layers that draw the sweat away from the

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Area © 2011 Royal Geographical Society (with the Institute of British Geographers)



body, removable mid layers enable the climber to regulate

his/her core body temperature, and breathable outerwear

that allows perspiration to pass outwards, whilst protect-

ing the climber from the elements. Thick gloves keep the

hands warm in the constant presence of ice. The hands

and feet of the ice climber are physically extended by iceaxes, and crampons attached by leashes and step-in bind-

ings respectively.

. . . every [axe] placement you get this lovely squeaksquechy scewtchy noise – you can hear and feel that it’ssecure. A brittle clink or clank and it might dinner plate[shatter]. It’s the riskiest but most rewarding type of climb-ing. You’re literally connected to your kit – you feel bionic.(Finlay 56)

Finlay’s comments reflect the sensual corporeal exten-

sions that drew my initial attention. The ice climber is

physically enabled by this technology. They become

hypersensual hybrids whose limbs and senses are

extended by technological prosthetics that appear seam-

lessly fused in an ergonomic and functional relationship,

allowing the climber passage as an assemblage that they

would be incapable of alone.

Like other forms of hybrid figures (Haraway 1991; What-

more 2006), I considered the ice climber as the archetypi-

cal ‘cyborg’ or ‘more-than-human’ climber; it was such

relations between kit and climber that enact the perfor-

mance of extraordinary feats that I desired to explore.

However, my research led me to a differing, yet equally

significant, set of enabling relations, away from the pro-posed and intended functional roles detailed in product

instructions and technical climbing tuition manuals. In

addition to the functional and ergonomic relations with

technology built through practice that I had expected, I

found a further less obvious climbing assemblage. In this

climbing assemblage, enabling relations were built upon

familiarity, superstition, traditions, risk, security, comfort,

safety, personal ethics and desired relations with the envi-

ronment – it is these more-than-representational aspects of

the climbing assemblage that I explore within this paper.

Mr Stripey is one example that typifies this. Stripey is a

knitted mouse – his owner Kenton Cool is a leading British

alpinist climber. Plate 2 is a picture of them together upon

the summit of Mount Everest. Cool is a professional

climber who is so driven to achieve his objectives in the

Plate 1 Ice climberSource: www.planetfear.com (used with permission)

Plate 2 Cool and StripeySource: www.mariecurie.org.uk (used with permission)

‘My magic cam’ 47

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mountains that he has been known to cut the labels from

his climbing kit in order to remove all but the functional

weight from his assemblage to give himself the best pos-

sible chance of achieving the summit – yet he still takes

Stripey. Cool’s reasoning for this, which may appear tocontradict some of his rationalised approaches to climb-

ing, is that Stripey and he have a functional relation in the

mountains. The knowledge of Stripey’s presence, the feel

or sight of him, is a psychological crutch that calms Cool’s

nerves, gives him comfort and can mentally transport him

away from the mountain. As Cool himself admitted to me,

‘even if it’s just for a moment – it helps’. Stripey is to Cool

a vital part of what Michael (2000 2009) would term his

socio-technical assemblage that enables him to climb, a

symbolic and enabling co-agent that facilitates action and

fulfils his requirement for psychological support.

The examples above support a relational approach that

not only examines the physical function of the enabling

technology, but also examines the complete relational,

corporeal fusion. In this paper I examine in detail these

connections between climbers and kit in much more

detail. I draw on empirical work to relationally read the

‘cyborg’ figures of contemporary climbing, examining

how the emotional relationships between climbers and

their kit whilst climbing – relations such as those between

Cool and Stripey – are every bit as enabling as a jagged

ice axe or crampon point driven deep into ice. This

research explores the functions, roles and synergies thatlie beyond product instruction manuals, yet nevertheless

enact the pursuit of climbing.

More-than-representational climbingassemblages

This research is based upon participant observation and

semi-structured interviews with 40 climbers based in

Yorkshire and the Peak District, undertaken during

2006–9. Participants were recruited through adverts

placed at climbing walls, on internet forums and distrib-uted to climbing clubs via the regional branches of the

British Mountaineering Council. Each interview was

digitally recorded and then transcribed. The transcripts

were then coded and analysed using a grounded theory

approach. Interviews were conducted in a range of

participant-selected locations, including climbers’ homes,

pubs, cafes, climbing walls and at outdoor crags. To help

capture the material relations between climbers and their

kit that were vital to their engagements with the outdoors,

I took my own rack of climbing kit to each interview. The

tactile prompts were used to go beyond representation

(see Lorimer 2005; Thrift 2008) to allow my interviewees

to display their body movements and interactions of kits

without being forced to articulate in words what they

would normally articulate through bodily movements.

The use of tangible prompts allowed me to move

beyond what Lorimer terms ‘the proforma social science

treatment of interview transcripts’ (2005, 87), allowing

greater representational depth. In addition to this, partici-

pation observation has provided insight into ‘a domainwhereby environment and the body, identity, experience

[technology] and imagination come together through a

curiosity for understanding thrillscapes’ (Laviolette 2011,

19). This has been greatly aided by ANT as a theoretical

approach that has allowed me to unpack the multiple

relations between climbers, their kit and the environment.

So whereas non-representational theorists would argue

that the complexity of the climbing assemblage renders a

full understanding of the practice beyond representation,

because of the inability of established representational

forms to capture all of the contingencies of the practice

in the aftermath of the event (Thrift 2008; Laurier and

Philo 2006), I contend that some of the otherwise non-

representational aspects of my interviewees’ life-world

experiences have become representational through the

methodology used and relational approach.

To avoid the reported shortcomings of representational

accounts and to pursue Lorimer’s (2005) more-than-

representational approach, I link descriptions of climbers’

assemblage-choreographed ascents paired with insights

derived from participant observation to step towards

reconstructing the materiality of a climb. Drawing upon

Harrison (2008), I assert that because of the focusednature of the pursuit and the vulnerability of the body

during the pursuit, climbers have a deeper awareness of

the important roles played by technology that in other

situations would be rendered invisible by either its con-

spicuousness or mundanity (see Michael 2000 2006). This

consciousness of specific embodied technological rela-

tions sheds light on the wider significance of the unre-

markable beyond the realm of climbing and into the

sphere of everyday assemblages.This is because we are all

technologically enabled beings enmeshed in numerous

socio-technical assemblages, whether we realise it or not(Mitchell 2004).

To avoid a techno-centricity that would invalidate my

relational approach, my analysis embraces the notion that

it is through the body that people encounter the world;

sensed through the body as they navigate its ever chang-

ing milieu (Macnaghten and Urry 2001). However, ANT

recognises that increasingly people sense the world

through and with technology (Michael 2000), developing

skills and competencies in conjunction with technologies

and places (Ingold 2000). In all spheres of life, our bodies

and the places they go are technologised; some of these

new technologically mediated engagements are complex

and subtle, often entered into with little consideration

with regard to experiential consequences (Mitchell 2004).

I will investigate this by exploring the differing ways that

48 Barratt





climbers and their kit co-evolve with, and co-produce,

each other within the climbing assemblage.

Carolan reminds us ‘that we cannot divorce the mind

from the body when talking about knowledge/s,

understanding/s and perceptions of the world’ (2008,408). In this paper I develop this, suggesting that the

materialities of the climbing assemblage also become

inseparable of corporeal consciousness. Academic con-

tributions on walking (Michael 2000 2009), cycling (Jones

2005; Spinney 2006) and windsurfing (Dant and Wheaton

2007) emphasise how material artefacts alter our embod-

ied sensations, perceptions and experiences dramatically.

Through the relations between the material, the organic

and the places they encounter, the actors of the network

co-evolve, exchanging and enhancing their properties

(Latour 2005), with technology through practice becom-

ing incorporated into tacit ‘haptic knowledges’ of climb-

ers (Patterson 2009; Ingold 2000).

In the next three sections I draw upon three themes

from my empirical findings to explore the relations and

enacting synergies of the climbing assemblage. First I talk

about climbers’ relationships with protective devices

called cams. Second, I explore what climbers term psy-

chological protection. Last, I examine the socio-technical

rituals that climbers undertake at the crag and how these

are developed and sustained through the practice.

Magic camsCams are spring loaded devices that are placed into par-

allel cracks in rock faces used to secure the climber’s

ascent. Since the 1980s they have become a staple part of

climbing kit and they are hugely popular with most con-

temporary climbers. This popularity even spills into a

slightly mystical status for some climbers. Megan’s (23)

view was indicative of cams’ popularity: ‘I know it’s a bit

sad but I’m a “gear freak”; I call it the “magic cam” cause

it literally goes on every route, every single route’. Six of

the forty climbers interviewed described their cams as

‘magic’ without being prompted to do so, and as they toldme this they seemed to have a look of mischief or slyness

about them, as if they were revealing an advantage that

they alone held over other climbers. In a manner they

were, because they were disclosing the enabling relations

between themselves and their gear that helped them to

climb, but that were often unique to the individual. Self-

described cam fanatic Mat (32) told me that he had his

‘magic three’, his size 1, 2 and 3 cams, and although

initially wary of cams, he had developed a trusting rela-

tionship with them on a trip to Yosemite where, he said,

they were the only way of protecting the wide granitecracks.

Since then I’ll always use them over a nut;2 they are quickto place, so they allow your climbing to flow, the more my

climbing is broken up by fiddling with gear, the morelikely it is I’ll start to lose confidence, or realise how farfrom the ground I am.

He liked his ‘magic three’ because he thought they

mimicked the way he used his hands on the rock. As hepulled the trigger of one of his cams to show the device’s

range of movements, he formed a range of hand and

finger jams3 that mirrored it with his other hand, and said:

‘Whether it’s hand or cam, the principle’s the same – I

place my cams like I place hands, it just comes naturally

now’. This strongly echoes Haraway’s (1991) assertion

that technology has made ambiguous the difference

between the distinctions applied to organisms and

machines.

Mat is suggesting that body and technology become

interchangeable: while climbing the same considerationgoes into placing technology as into placing the body. To

Mat the cam extends his corporeal being and the move-

ments with and of both become incorporated into tacit

haptic knowledges, appearing instinctual, but in reality

developed through practice (Ingold 2000; Patterson

2009). Although once placed the cam is no longer a

prosthetic extension like a climbing shoe or ice axe, it

remains what Macnaghten and Urry (2001) term a sensu-

ous extension within the assemblage, performing its func-

tion quietly, and the climber an enabling constituent part

of the climbing assemblage ensuring safety.Other climbers valued the speed and functionality of

cams as elements of the climbing assemblage.

Cams are great. You can see the science behind theirdesign. The harder you pull the tighter they hold, they’refaster to place and more versatile than nuts. That’s whatyou need when your arms are pumped and you need toget moving. (Gary 30)

Gary illustrates how new forms of climbing technologies,

like cams, experientially change the climb, making it a

lesser corporeal undertaking for some (Lewis 2001). Gary

also identifies how he can ‘see the science’ of camsworking and understand intimately how they function

independently, and in conjunction with himself, the drag

of the rope through the safety system, and the rock. This

type of insight into kit functionality was important to

climbers and provided them with confidence, protecting

the climbers from death or injury, again emphasising the

significance of studying the vulnerable body (Harrison

2008).

Psychological protectionGiven the value climbers placed on the safety of their kit,

and their appreciation of how gear functioned at every

level, it was paradoxical to discover that their gear also





gave them confidence when it was knowingly placed in

poor or marginal placements providing little or no pro-

tection. Climbers referred to this as placing ‘psychological

protection’; this is, gear that was very unlikely to prevent

a fall, but its presence still offered the climber a psycho-logical boost that allowed them to continue.

I often place psychological pro[tection]. I know if I fall onit, it will rip but what can you do? I have a mental trickthough, when I clip my rope I let the gate on the karabinerclick, as hard, and as loud, as possible, and that is themental trigger, that says, I’m safe, my gear is working,climb on; it’s scary but it works! (Jez 38)

This is an example of technology communicating – the

sound of the karabiner’s gate is used to infer that the

climbing assemblage is safe to continue. The assemblageis not rationally deemed safe, but nevertheless the tech-

nology impulsively enacts sending a message that differs

from its intended function. Mick (45) found that the slight-

est sense of socio-technical security can be all it takes to

make the next move:

I have been known to put gear in that is absolutely atro-cious, but you think just because you have a piece of gearin then it helps you move on. I did one climb where theonly gear I could find was a little pocket and I managed toput a cam in which only had two in, you know theynormally have four, just like that [Mick uses a cam andhand to show the size of the pocket and how he precari-ously placed the cam] just tiny it was, and it came out assoon as I put any tension on it, but it just got me on to thenext bit of gear.

Jez and Mick are enacted by their gear and the

enabling relations that they generate as part of the

climbing assemblage. Even though it is not physically

protecting them, their gear enacts. When Mick states

that he is trying to get to the ‘next bit of gear’ rather than

moving between holds, this becomes demonstrativeof the importance of technology as an enabler, a

co-constituent in the climbing assemblage.

These examples also confirm that behind every habitual

use of gear lies a matrix of relations, to justify and enable

the climb, with the potential of exposing the climber to

greater risk (see Barratt 2011). As the gear is placed, a new

relation is produced depending on whether its placement

is ‘bomber’, ‘okay’, ‘suspect’, ‘iffy’ or purely for psycho-

logical reasons. Each placement is different as each rela-

tion of risk, body technology and rock condition is

different; one day a cam placement may be ‘iffy’, the next

day for another climber it might be ‘okay’ as differing

types of climbing gear become ‘mundanely manifested’

(Michael 2006, 33) in the socio-technical assemblages of

climbers.

Technologies are not simple intermediaries, but also mes-sengers that subtly alter their messages, and this alterationis mediated through the ways in which they enter into,sometimes unexpected, relations with other human–non-human ensembles. (Michael 2000, 25)

Through climbing, technologies and practices co-

evolve through time, but also in the moment as the climb

is produced (Hand et al . 2007).

Socio-technical rituals and regimesof preparation

Bring your attention to bear on hard things, and see thembecome gentle, soft or human. (Latour 2000, 20)

My third theme is how regimes of preparation are under-taken by climbers. These regimes were marked by socio-

technical rituals that were undertaken with kit before or

during each climb. Although each ritual performed a

function that was in some way necessary for the climb to

be undertaken, they also contributed to the so-called

‘head game’ of climbing. Through the internal relations of

the climbing network, the hard artefacts of climbing

became actors capable of enacting agency related to soft

emotional support rather, or in addition to, physical

functions.

The most blatant of these rituals was chalking. Climbers

referred to ‘chalking up’ before attempting to climb – the

function of this being to increase the friction of the hand

and fingers on the rock by drying the sweat from the

hands. However, the climbers often admitted to ‘abusing

the chalk bag’ (Beth 36), whereby excessive amounts

were used even when not required. This was a climbing

ritual undertaken to prepare and enact the climbing

assemblage, often after all other preparation such as tying

into the rope.

Chalking up is just something I do, it’s almost uncon-

scious, I’ll never forget to do it. By doing it I’m tellingmyself this is it, it’s time to climb. It focuses my attentionon what I am about to undertake – the next thing I do isstep onto the rock. (Gavin 26)

Gavin and others who referred to chalking up failed to

mention the intended purpose – for them it appeared that

the primary purpose was indeed a ‘regime of preparation’

for the climb that enacted and enabled the pursuit.

There are many other examples of rituals and regimes

undertaken by climbers with differing bits of kit. For

example, Alex’s (28) ritual concerned his climbing foot-

wear, and for him slipping his heels in and out of his bootssignified the start (and finish) of an ascent.

I always kick the heels of my shoes off after a climb – theyget tight and sweaty so I enjoy the temporary relief. Grab-

50 Barratt





bing the tab on the back of my heel and pulling them backon is literally the last thing I do before climbing again.That’s my ritual – my feet are hurting again: it’s time toclimb.

This ritual was mentioned several times as a way of men-

tally preparing for the challenge of the crag – an activity

that signified the change of state from ground-dwelling

spectator into a climber. Tim (38) also had a footwear-

related ritual that involved removing any dampness or

debris from his shoes on an old carpet sample that he

carried with him to the crag.

Before a route, even an easy warm-up climb, I meticu-lously remove any debris from my shoes. I carry this mataround with me [Tim reveals a filthy and worn carpet

scrap tucked in the fold of his bouldering mat] . . . I’vehad it since I started bouldering, getting on for 15 yearsago. Shoes, pads and brushes have come and gone, butthis fella has stayed with me. My lucky charm – I dreadlosing it. My climbing ability is tangled up in silly stuff likethat.

Tim, like other climbers who I interviewed, recognised

that climbers climbed as part of an assemblage of things

– each of which played a role even if that role seemed

unusual. This again emphasises how agency and enable-

ment in climbing is due to the relations that exist, and

are repeated and reinforced, in the climbing assemblage.Tim’s relationship with his mat demonstrates Turkle’s

(2007) assertion that through material relations people

and objects form active ‘lasting’ partnerships. For Tim,

this role within his climbing assemblage was apparent,

whereas with others the enactment and changes in

behaviour as a result of kit mediation were more

subtle.

The bond between climber and kit, and the manner in

which it interdependently mediated climbers’ actions and

emotions, was intensified if a specific piece of gear pre-

vented a serious fall from occurring, as had happened to

some of the climbers who I interviewed. In consequence,

the gear that was fallen upon often gained greater signifi-

cance on the climber’s rack, becoming symbolic. Several

of the climbers who I interviewed had a ‘lucky’ piece of

gear that had derived its value in this manner. Phil (66)

had a ‘lucky’ nut that had saved a large fall and below he

explains how it became significant and even symbolic to

him:

I was on a route and it all went wrong. I ended uptraversing away from my gear and eventually came off. As

I fell, I caught my leg in the rope so I swung upside downand clattered into the rock. I remember it ’cause when Igot to the bottom my belayer was annoyed ’cause the ropehad whipped across his face, taking the lit cigarette fromhis mouth, ‘you owe me a fag’ is all he said as he lowered

me to the ground white-faced, bloody and semicon-scious . . . After the incident I placed it [the nut that savedhis life] on every climb for luck . . . I was compelled to dothat for many years.

Symbolic artefacts became paired with symbolic prac-tices that reinforced the connection and enabled the

climber. In Phil’s case it was the intense experience of

the initial fall that produced his strong relational bond

and lasting relationship with what he called his ‘lucky

nut’.

Discussion

From Kenton Cool’s knitted mouse, to Tim’s carpet square,

and Phil’s ‘lucky nut’, all climbers’ gear, no matter how

mundane or sophisticated, played an active role in the

pursuit of climbing – providing ability, confidence,

comfort and security against the inherent risks that were

always close to the minds of most climbers during their

engagements with the outdoors. My interviewees’ arte-

facts and the practices that surround them became valued

through past relations, and like Miller (2008), I found that

these relations and the value individuals place upon them

are contingent on individual factors. My arguments here

counteract claims that technologies overtake lay persons’

understanding of the principles of their functioning (Shaw

2008). Rather, in climbing, technologies far exceed their‘intended’ ascribed use values and agencies. These

examples illustrate that we should not only consider the

more-than-human; rather, we should examine the more-

than-technical, or preferably remove the modernist dual-

istic assumptions that we have bound the terms in

(Murdoch 1997).

To engage with the more-than-representational through

research, tactics need to be employed to help respondents

articulate their experiences in new ways. Likewise, the

insightful research of materialist thinkers, notably Miller

(2008) and Turkle (2007), demonstrates how material arte-facts develop agency through relations, bringing comfort

to the lives of the people in their respective studies. Simi-

larly, the artefacts of climbers brought comfort to them as

they climbed. This is self-evident given that these artefacts

(climbers’ kit) are largely designed to provide security and

protection whilst climbing. However, the comforting role

of kit was not always obvious. Climbing kit (as with any

material artefact/s) cannot be regarded as solely acting in

terms of given prescribed functions (Latour 2000). Return-

ing to the example of ‘Stripey’, we see an object with no

functional climbing value in technical terms. However, it

is used by one of the UK’s leading climbers to achieve his

many summits. What tends to be either forgotten or over-

looked is that irrespective of a given or prescribed func-

tion, the socio-technical-environmental assemblages that





we are enmeshed within are unique, and performed in

different ways (Lorimer and Lund 2003; Michael 2006).

Similarly to Miller (2008), my findings suggest that

long-established material routines that become familiar

and repetitive to people may also bring them comfort.Through relations that occur within the climbing assem-

blage, actors become interdependent. They exchange

and enhance each others’ properties (Latour 2000). This

mutual exchange and co-evolution is difficult to isolate in

relation to climbing gear, particularly given that the

co-produced agency is a result of relations during the

practice that enables climbing in every sense. Hand et al .

say that material artefacts are integral to ‘the structure and

reproduction of practice’ (2007, 680) and thus directly

contribute to their performance. However, in climbing,

the influence of the material is multiple, with messages

developed between climber and kit beyond the functions

intended at manufacture.

The close relationships between climbers and their kit

also resonate with Haraway’s (2008, 35) insights concern-

ing companion species. Haraway spoke about becoming

worldly through her subjective co-constituted relations

with her dog, drawn into a ‘multispecies knot’, through

touch and reciprocal action. Climbers also have pet-like

relations with their kit – they are protective of it, they look

after it, their relations with it during the climb are tactile.

Kit reciprocates by looking after the climber on the climb.

The application of Haraway’s ideas helps explore anduncover the deep significance that non-humans add as

co-constituents in all aspects of our life, and especially to

climbers.

Conclusion

This paper has shown that, through the repetition of tech-

nologised engagements, familiarity develops, providing

comfort and support. Furthermore, close personal rela-

tionships become established between the humans and

non-humans that are reciprocal and provide meaning(Haraway 2008; Miller 2008). Multiple independent

roles emerge within the assemblage far beyond ascribed

use-values pre-affirmed by the manufacturers. As Ingold

argues, ‘intentionality and functionality are immanent in

the practice itself, rather than being prior properties,

respectively, of an agent and an instrument’ (2000, 291).

Climbers develop close relationships and subjectivities

with their kit, which co-constitute individual agencies

amongst the climbing assemblage that enable, notwith-

standing prescribed functions. These socio-technical

practices are bound up in matrices of relations. They

are unexpected outcomes of technical inter-mediation

(Michael 2000) and evidence of the co-evolution of

people, technologies and their practices (Hand et al .

2007). Climbers as assemblages utilise these agencies

to access outdoor spaces available only to them (and

their kit).

The body is not only spatial, but that it also spatialises.That is, it creates space by absorbing habits and technolo-gies that then become part of the lived body, which thenalter how and what space is perceived. (Carolan 2008,415)

Bodies and materialities cannot be divorced when

researching outdoor practices. This is because the roles of

kit become individual to the climber and through practice

highly integrated with their embodied haptic knowledges

and these are performed through the individual geogra-

phies of each new climb. When making sense of a climb,

and working out how to ascend it, the assemblage is

integral, and during the practice the competencies of the

climber are negotiated as an assemblage. The more-than-

representational dimensions highlighted by the context of

the climb are suggestive that environmental engagements,

notwithstanding activity, are dependent upon entering in

relationships with material others. However, outside the

context of the climb socio-technical mediations may be

obscured by the comparative mundanity of more quotid-

ian situations.

Notes

1 The terms kit and gear are used to refer to all aspects of

climbers’ equipment.

2 A metal wedge threaded onto steel wire that is slotted into a

crack to secure the climber’s rope.

3 A climbing technique whereby the hand or finger is inserted

into a crack in the rock to provide support and leverage whilst

ascending.

Acknowledgements

Thanks to all the climbers that have participated in interviews and

climbed with me during this study. Thanks also go to Sally Eden

and the anonymous referees for their insightful comments that

have helped improve this paper.

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