By Kyle Mrohs

In setting, we are in the business of control. We force moves, sequences, and sometimes things people don’t want to do. But we provide a setting where these combinations are a must if a climber wants to get to the top.

So maybe it’s a little dangerous to say…I don’t know what I’m doing. Sometimes I just ‘DO’ and whatever comes out gets a little polishing, and then its presented to the public. Tada!?

Now, to be humble, usually the premiere of a problem is greeted by fanfare and universal applaud. But how much of that success am I responsible for? Was it I, or forces beyond MY control? The question of debate is, am I exercising skill, or am I reaping the benefits of luck?

Well, as ‘LUCK’ would have it (these puns are going to get old), just before really delving into the substance of luck, fortune, and the etymology of ‘Serendipitous’, an incident occurred. I heard Aesop always used real life incidents to illuminate truths, so I’ll follow his lead.

My assignment was simple: To create a V4 on the front side of the gyms top-out boulder. I grabbed some aesthetically pleasing holds and went to business. In a little while I had created a sequence of some quality.

It featured some tension and some pinching. The key feature was a sequence of hand position flipping, the element of cool that I always strive for, whether it be a small twist or a dimensional bending sequence.

A member approached, or rather I grabbed him, and asked him to try it out, no beta provided. Now, he had mentioned he felt very weak and out of shape. But I sugar talked him into trying, assuring him he was the strongest, most handsomest man in the whole world. Cheeks red, he gave it a try.

These are the circumstances, and this is what happened. Due to his route reading skills (at whatever level), and his tension (somewhat lacking at a certain moment), he made a move I had intended, but instead of moving through it the way I had conceived, he swung around like a gibbon on monkey bars.

He floated under his arm, winding around till he was facing away from the wall, flipped around, straight up “Mission-Impossible” style. His other hand latched the next hold, perfectly situated, and he hung there. He couldn’t move pass that position, and so dropped off, asking, “Was that right?”. No, but it was AWESOME!

I asked his opinion of the sequence prior to that crazy thing, and then debated with myself whether to alter the problem to force that sequence, or correct it so that my original intentions held true.

After some intense furrowing of the brow, I decided to try something new and adventurous, both for myself and for the members. With very few changes (One foot moved and another completely eliminated), and many personal trials, I sat on the blue carpet and sighed in awe. This was a problem born of two contrary forces: utter control and direction, and circumstantial luck.

I analyzed what had just occurred; realizing very quickly that this event was the perfect example of the topic question. Was the problem a result of me, or situational factors?

It was in fact both. It was a product of the original skill in constructing a platform for the move to occur, the luck of him doing what he did and me being present to watch it, and then sandwiching more skill by doctoring the problem to only allow that move.

I had the idea, he made the mistake, I fixed it so everyone would make that mistake (now known as the sequence), and the tape was applied.

Now, many days later, I can think further on the idea of luck in setting. There are circumstances beyond our control. Bad T-Nuts, limiting hold choice or wall space, certain grades to be hit over others.

As much as we would like to flex our power over the walls and lay siege to the gym, creating what we wish, we really are subjected to situations that direct us one way or the other.

Utilizing skills, craftsmanship, and knowledge, we do our best and blow minds. Sometimes we set out to do what we want, other times its as much a mental struggle, and as fun, as slogging through mud.

But we persevere. And we get lucky. We get a bolt that only fits in one hold in one hole, and its awesome. Large features block you in, and so the body positioning you design is suddenly more interesting than without those obstructions.

Or, my favorite (and the bane of my setting existence), you place 3 or 4 monster holds in some oddball trajectory, and its the most
inventive thing you’ve ever tried to scale. Sometimes, it just happens.

But we are there. We are still making decisions, still choosing, still directing. What I learned from my incident was this: I got lucky with a move, but I had the skill to see the potential of that move, and the ability to isolate that move.

I exercised skill not through foresight and intentional direction, but by observation and intuition. Maybe the skill part of setting isn’t always in the planning and ultimate execution, but rather in the minute details of the entire operation, from end to end and all the in betweens.

On a typically philosophical ending note, setting is harnessing all your faculties, the ones you are aware of, and ones that seem below the radar. It is being fully open to what lays before you, whether you put it there or not. You may have just glimpsed brilliance, now tweak it out.

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