I’ve been climbing for over 10 years – indoors, outdoors, sport, trad, multi-pitch, adventure climbing, you name it - and, with a few exceptions here and there, I have managed to avoid the GriGri. Now, my home gym is dictating we use that behemoth device for all lead and top rope belaying. Harumph.
Although my previous interactions with the GriGri have been less than satisfying, I thought perhaps being forced to use it might allow me to refine my technique and gain a mature appreciation for the device – perhaps like learning to appreciate the finer side of brussel sprouts or liver. But, now that I have had the full-on GriGri experience, let’s just say my attitude has shifted from a mild shunning to a full-on “I hate this piece of shit.”
For one, this inanimate object contributed to one of the biggest climbing-related fights I’ve had with my husband since our earliest days of climbing together. For the sake of soap opera-like entertainment I will share this story with you, but I’m also going to sneak in some genuine critique about the GriGri -- I don’t just hate it because it caused a fight; I hate it because of why it caused a fight.
The Story
My husband was leading a difficult, overhanging route at the gym (ok, it’s not a high-stakes follow-up of Ondra’s send of Silence, but hey…). Of course, in order to continue the fine tradition of “glashing” the route Rick was moving fast and trying hard. But, there was one major limitation - I couldn’t feed the rope fast enough for the clips. Rick quickly got to each super-closely spaced bolt (we are at a gym after all), pulled for the clip and, what-do-ya’ know the GriGri locked up - nearly every fucking time.
Then, nearing the end of the route, forearms pumped like Popeye, he yanked the rope for a long, reachy, quick feed. I pulled lead-end of the rope to start the feed, while simultaneously trying to flip the brake end of the rope back over the back-end of the belay device and then pressing down the back end of the release handle for the GriGri full-throttle, all-open position, quick feed, but…. I wasn’t fast enough – lock.
Desperate to make the clip, and probably annoyed by now because nearly every feed resulted in a short-rope, Rick rapid-fired two rope yanks. The force of the yanks completely unraveled my fumbling attempt at the GriGri full-throttle rope feed position. Thus, he met with complete resistance from the rope, then, he fell – send thwarted, spirit crushed, sponsorship gone.
Before I get into the next moments of soap opera entertainment, I have to make a statement here. I could have smoothly sent him rope by keeping the GriGri in that all-open, full-throttle position the entire climb. But doesn’t that defeat the ENTIRE purpose of an assisted breaking device? Numerous ground-fall accidents have occurred as a result of the all-open, all-the-time position (see links provided at the end) – because once a fall occurs, it happens so fast, the climber is on the ground. So, trying to be the safe, attentive belayer I take pride in, I returned to the brake-hand down “proper” belay position between the complicated flip-rope-back, press lever rapid-feed position. Now, here’s the real-world problem with that convoluted process.
If you suffer from ANY tendencies towards a lack of coordination, this transition between proper braking position and “opening” up the device for a lead-feed will fuck you up. It can trigger awkward teenage flashbacks faster than you can say GriGri.
There I was, belaying with my husband, a man I trust and have climbed with an uncountable number of times, and I got emotionally triggered. I sensed his frustration with the belay. I struggled with trying to be safe belayer, anticipating his moves for a smooth feed, yet fumbled over and over. Then he yanked the rope twice out of what was his own frustration. Next, he fell, mumbled some choice words. I became flooded with emotions.
I instantly went from being a very experienced, confident, mature, adult climber who can beautifully and smoothly deliver rope on my Megajul (well, most of the time) to feeling like an inept fool - that insecure teenager who slipped on the slick spot on the floor at the prom and wiped out the gorgeous king and queen along with the punch bowl - in front of everybody. I felt incapable and embarrassed. I got pissed off at the GriGri. I got pissed off at myself. I got pissed off that I got pissed off at all – why is this even upsetting me it’s supposed to be a fun work-out?! I got pissed off at my husband for yanking the rope repeatedly, then my husband got pissed off at me for getting pissed off, and what do you know, a fight ensued and the climbing was done for the night.
It’s not a moment I’m proud of by any means. Of course, with time and conversation we settled our shit, because that’s what people who want to stay married do. But I ask myself, what did I learn from this experience? Well, I learned that I have many very legitimate reasons for not liking the GriGri.
Why I Don't Like the GriGri
Despite the fact that a piece of equipment caused me juvenile emotional trauma, the GriGri has a laundry list of disadvantages. Here they are:
(1) It’s clumsy and clunky.
Not only while you are using it, as described above, but it’s more awkward to put on, set up, check that it’s correct, and take off compared to other belay devices. The GriGri is NOT intuitive and operates unlike every other belay device out there. This alone makes our gym’s GriGri-only decision completely absurd.
(2) It’s expensive.
Why blow $100 on an assisted breaking device when you can get the Megajul assisted breaking ATC for $35? Or the Pilot, Clickup, Smart, or any other assisted braking device that costs less than a GriGri. (No I am not sponsored by ANYONE. These opinions are my own. I have tons of respect for Petzl. I have a respect for the history of the GriGri. I just believe there is better stuff out there now.)
(3) It’s heavy.
If I wanted to carry extra weight, then I’ll just keep the rocks my prankster son and husband added to my pack one particular climbing trip (and I discovered several trips later!).
(4) It’s “machine-like” with moving parts.
It’s overly complicated and an invitation for something to break or not function correctly with different variables – like rope thickness.
(5) It has limited utility on multi-pitch climbs.
GriGri’s have been known to “slip” while belaying from above in guide mode and you can’t really rappel with them (unless you want to do a more dangerous simul-rap), so to compensate you still need to bring an ATC-style device. What was I saying about “dead weight”?
(6) Have you ever watched people belaying with a GriGri?
They get lazy. Some get all-hands-off, dangerously lazy. There seems to be something about this device that makes people think it's ok to let go of the brake-hand-end of the rope. I haven’t seen that problem yet with a Megajul or other styles of assisted breaking devices. Perhaps that’s because the ATC-design elicits the good habits instilled into us when we first learned to belay? Or perhaps it’s because of the way the rope naturally lays in the brake-hand while you hold onto the device? I don’t know, but if someone who uses the GriGri habituates letting go of the break-hand, I’d hate to be on the sharp end of them belaying me with a tube belay device.
(7) Lowering with the GriGri sucks.
In order to lower the climber you have to have the lever pulled completely open and ultimately control the descent by one single hand, the brake hand. There are claims that the lever can be used to help control speed, but for me, that has always resulted in the climber bouncing like a yo-yo. It's been impossible to find "the sweet spot" where the device actually slows the climber, instead it catches and stops the descent, then I have to reopen the device and the climber (especially if they have some mass) starts to "fall" again, resulting in a reactive, instead of a "smooth" response. Ultimately, in order to avoid giving the climber whiplash, I end up using the (single) brake hand to entirely control the speed. I have a difficult time with this as well because now I am controlling the lowering of an often heavier-male with one hand! The rope burn feels worse than what I've experienced from an ATC, where I can use BOTH hands to control the rope. Yes, I could wear belay gloves. Yes, I could get a specialized carabiner to wrap the rope around and use as a break. But this is a $100 belay device that is making me spend more money to accommodate its short-comings.
Although my previous interactions with the GriGri have been less than satisfying, I thought perhaps being forced to use it might allow me to refine my technique and gain a mature appreciation for the device – perhaps like learning to appreciate the finer side of brussel sprouts or liver. But, now that I have had the full-on GriGri experience, let’s just say my attitude has shifted from a mild shunning to a full-on “I hate this piece of shit.”
For one, this inanimate object contributed to one of the biggest climbing-related fights I’ve had with my husband since our earliest days of climbing together. For the sake of soap opera-like entertainment I will share this story with you, but I’m also going to sneak in some genuine critique about the GriGri -- I don’t just hate it because it caused a fight; I hate it because of why it caused a fight.
The Story
My husband was leading a difficult, overhanging route at the gym (ok, it’s not a high-stakes follow-up of Ondra’s send of Silence, but hey…). Of course, in order to continue the fine tradition of “glashing” the route Rick was moving fast and trying hard. But, there was one major limitation - I couldn’t feed the rope fast enough for the clips. Rick quickly got to each super-closely spaced bolt (we are at a gym after all), pulled for the clip and, what-do-ya’ know the GriGri locked up - nearly every fucking time.
Then, nearing the end of the route, forearms pumped like Popeye, he yanked the rope for a long, reachy, quick feed. I pulled lead-end of the rope to start the feed, while simultaneously trying to flip the brake end of the rope back over the back-end of the belay device and then pressing down the back end of the release handle for the GriGri full-throttle, all-open position, quick feed, but…. I wasn’t fast enough – lock.
Desperate to make the clip, and probably annoyed by now because nearly every feed resulted in a short-rope, Rick rapid-fired two rope yanks. The force of the yanks completely unraveled my fumbling attempt at the GriGri full-throttle rope feed position. Thus, he met with complete resistance from the rope, then, he fell – send thwarted, spirit crushed, sponsorship gone.
Before I get into the next moments of soap opera entertainment, I have to make a statement here. I could have smoothly sent him rope by keeping the GriGri in that all-open, full-throttle position the entire climb. But doesn’t that defeat the ENTIRE purpose of an assisted breaking device? Numerous ground-fall accidents have occurred as a result of the all-open, all-the-time position (see links provided at the end) – because once a fall occurs, it happens so fast, the climber is on the ground. So, trying to be the safe, attentive belayer I take pride in, I returned to the brake-hand down “proper” belay position between the complicated flip-rope-back, press lever rapid-feed position. Now, here’s the real-world problem with that convoluted process.
If you suffer from ANY tendencies towards a lack of coordination, this transition between proper braking position and “opening” up the device for a lead-feed will fuck you up. It can trigger awkward teenage flashbacks faster than you can say GriGri.
There I was, belaying with my husband, a man I trust and have climbed with an uncountable number of times, and I got emotionally triggered. I sensed his frustration with the belay. I struggled with trying to be safe belayer, anticipating his moves for a smooth feed, yet fumbled over and over. Then he yanked the rope twice out of what was his own frustration. Next, he fell, mumbled some choice words. I became flooded with emotions.
I instantly went from being a very experienced, confident, mature, adult climber who can beautifully and smoothly deliver rope on my Megajul (well, most of the time) to feeling like an inept fool - that insecure teenager who slipped on the slick spot on the floor at the prom and wiped out the gorgeous king and queen along with the punch bowl - in front of everybody. I felt incapable and embarrassed. I got pissed off at the GriGri. I got pissed off at myself. I got pissed off that I got pissed off at all – why is this even upsetting me it’s supposed to be a fun work-out?! I got pissed off at my husband for yanking the rope repeatedly, then my husband got pissed off at me for getting pissed off, and what do you know, a fight ensued and the climbing was done for the night.
It’s not a moment I’m proud of by any means. Of course, with time and conversation we settled our shit, because that’s what people who want to stay married do. But I ask myself, what did I learn from this experience? Well, I learned that I have many very legitimate reasons for not liking the GriGri.
Why I Don't Like the GriGri
Despite the fact that a piece of equipment caused me juvenile emotional trauma, the GriGri has a laundry list of disadvantages. Here they are:
(1) It’s clumsy and clunky.
Not only while you are using it, as described above, but it’s more awkward to put on, set up, check that it’s correct, and take off compared to other belay devices. The GriGri is NOT intuitive and operates unlike every other belay device out there. This alone makes our gym’s GriGri-only decision completely absurd.
(2) It’s expensive.
Why blow $100 on an assisted breaking device when you can get the Megajul assisted breaking ATC for $35? Or the Pilot, Clickup, Smart, or any other assisted braking device that costs less than a GriGri. (No I am not sponsored by ANYONE. These opinions are my own. I have tons of respect for Petzl. I have a respect for the history of the GriGri. I just believe there is better stuff out there now.)
(3) It’s heavy.
If I wanted to carry extra weight, then I’ll just keep the rocks my prankster son and husband added to my pack one particular climbing trip (and I discovered several trips later!).
(4) It’s “machine-like” with moving parts.
It’s overly complicated and an invitation for something to break or not function correctly with different variables – like rope thickness.
(5) It has limited utility on multi-pitch climbs.
GriGri’s have been known to “slip” while belaying from above in guide mode and you can’t really rappel with them (unless you want to do a more dangerous simul-rap), so to compensate you still need to bring an ATC-style device. What was I saying about “dead weight”?
(6) Have you ever watched people belaying with a GriGri?
They get lazy. Some get all-hands-off, dangerously lazy. There seems to be something about this device that makes people think it's ok to let go of the brake-hand-end of the rope. I haven’t seen that problem yet with a Megajul or other styles of assisted breaking devices. Perhaps that’s because the ATC-design elicits the good habits instilled into us when we first learned to belay? Or perhaps it’s because of the way the rope naturally lays in the brake-hand while you hold onto the device? I don’t know, but if someone who uses the GriGri habituates letting go of the break-hand, I’d hate to be on the sharp end of them belaying me with a tube belay device.
(7) Lowering with the GriGri sucks.
In order to lower the climber you have to have the lever pulled completely open and ultimately control the descent by one single hand, the brake hand. There are claims that the lever can be used to help control speed, but for me, that has always resulted in the climber bouncing like a yo-yo. It's been impossible to find "the sweet spot" where the device actually slows the climber, instead it catches and stops the descent, then I have to reopen the device and the climber (especially if they have some mass) starts to "fall" again, resulting in a reactive, instead of a "smooth" response. Ultimately, in order to avoid giving the climber whiplash, I end up using the (single) brake hand to entirely control the speed. I have a difficult time with this as well because now I am controlling the lowering of an often heavier-male with one hand! The rope burn feels worse than what I've experienced from an ATC, where I can use BOTH hands to control the rope. Yes, I could wear belay gloves. Yes, I could get a specialized carabiner to wrap the rope around and use as a break. But this is a $100 belay device that is making me spend more money to accommodate its short-comings.
(8) It’s not as safe as we think it is.
- There are numerous ways the GriGri can be an assisted-ground-fall device. Here are a few reports to consider – and these are just a few examples, if you look at forums like Mountain Project, Reddit, and SuperTopo, you see lots of reports of GriGri misuse.
- What Ashima Shiraishi’s 45-Foot Fall Can Teach Us About GriGris (Moja Gear) - This includes Petzl videos.
- Unbelayvable: How Not to Use a Grigri Edition (Climbing Magazine)
- Simul-Rappel Goes Tragically Wrong (Rock and Ice Magazine)
- Fall on Rock, Climbing Alone, Failure to Maintain Control of Rope, Unfamiliar with Device, No Back-Up (American Alpine Journal Accidents Report)