[b]Full Disclosure: The reviewer personaly paid full retail out of pocket for this product. This company does not currently advertise on RC.com.[/b]

This winter in North Carolina has seen the craziest weather. Well, actually, it's been pretty warm. Truthfully, we've enjoyed far more than our share of sunny-and-sixty days. The stone is sticky in the Carolina winter and the sky, she's a-blue. But don't fret, my northern neighbors! Spring is just around the corner! I'm sure many of you are chomping at the bit for the conditions I've enjoyed almost non-stop since November (you poor bastards).

But let's be honest about this... Even perfect conditions present a layering problem. In the morning, when the action is just picking up, temps are far more winter-ish then in the afternoon. In Carolina, it's common to start climbing in toe-numbing, hand-blowing sub-40 temps before the day gradually warms to its pleasant goal. And in between those times, I wear... what? Too little clothing, and I have to climb cold early, which I hate. Too much and all afternoon I have to carry extra layers that I'm not going to wear again until tomorrow.

I'd like to tell you that [i]now[/i] there's a solution, but the fact is, the solution has been around for years. It's Marmot's DriClime Windshirt and if you haven't ever worn one, you ought to discover it for yourself. If you long since moved on to bigger and [i]Gorier[/i] jackets and still haven't found your perfect layer, come on back to an old favorite. It's been here all along... pining for your love and attention.

[img]http://photos.rockclimbing.com/photos//496/49614.jpg[/img]

[size=8]It sure was windy, but thanks to Marmot, I was snug as a bug in a rug. Hand in the corner? What hand in the corner?[/size]

Equipped with Marmot's DriClime on the inside and ripstop nylon out, the Windshirt is just beefy enough to keep you warm when temps are cool and thin enough not to switch your sweat glands into overdrive when the sun shines and your activity level kicks up. Designed with people who actually move in mind, the Windshirt truly shines when its wearer is working. The extended tail tucks away neatly under a harness and
[i]stays there[/i] even during full-extension moves - a feature that I have found to be sorely lacking in the Windshirt's higher-tech brethren.

Most importantly, the Windshirt does keep out wind. I’ve tested mine at Whitesides and Rumbling Bald, Looking Glass, the New and many other crags and the whole time, nary a cubic meter of Jack Frost’s icy breath has blown through it.

A bevy of traditional features round out the Windshirt's list of goodies. Elastic cuffs keep wind out of the sleeves and keep them up when the temps creep higher or your hands creep deeper into the jams. Perpetually open pit vents assist in cooling and moisture evaporation. A brushed inner lining helps wick moisture away from your skin/base and the next layer out helps to spread it for quicker evaporation. Of course, none of this is new. None of it is ultra-radical or, these days, innovative. But in the Windshirt, all of it comes together for a remarkably thoughtful, tried and true and most importantly, [i]versatile[/i] layer that you can't find anyplace else.

Yet another task the Windshirt accomplishes with aplomb is combining with complementary layers. On extra-cold mornings, I slip a poly-pro base underneath or a down vest over top. On wet wintry days, I use the Windshirt (or Windshirt/down vest combo) under a rain shell and I'm good to go. There's almost nothing the Windshirt can't do, except...

I can’t stand putting it on! Oh, I love wearing it, but the act of donning it is torture. The brushed lining snags every little boo boo on my hands and tears at my wounded flesh like a school of starving piranhas. The friction-hating DriClime removes my Velcro-strapped wrist watch almost every time and if I could store up all the static electricity I’ve generated since buying it, I could power freaking Vegas. The Windshirt ought to thank its lucky stars that it works so damn well, because if it didn't, I wouldn't even use it to wipe my dog's butt.

That one spanner-in-the-works is the only thing keeping the Windshirt from perfection. It also doesn't stop as much wind as something called
"Windstopper," but it certainly does a satisfactory job. Add in everything else it has going for it aaaaaand a $99 price tag that doesn't bust as much bank as the latest and greatest and you get a piece of weather protection that, frankly, I don't know how you live without.

I give it four-and-a-half ‘biners, but since that isn't technically possible in this Gear Guide, I'll round up to five.

[b]Full Disclosure: The company that manufactured this equipment provided it free of charge to RC.com and RC.com then provided it as compensation to the reviewer for his or her review. This company does not currently advertise on RC.com.[/b]

[i]Colored chalk is greasy. Colored chalk stains the rock. And what am I supposed to do – carry a chalk bag for every color of rock I climb?[/i]

If I had written this review 15 years ago, it might have looked like the above, but this is not your parent’s colored chalk. Environmentally-minded climbers, sneaky first ascensionists and those concerned with access issues at their local crags may want to take a second look at this one-time pariah of the powdered courage industry.

To be sure, Aaron Shackelford of Terra Firma, the company that makes this newest generation of colored chalk, has an uphill battle ahead of him. Colored chalk debuted briefly on the American climbing scene several years ago to [i]ooos[/i] and [i]ahs[/i], but it soon became apparent that the idea was only good on paper. The stuff actually [i]decreased[/i] friction and there is some anecdotal evidence that it may have stained rock permanently. And even with this improved version, climbers are still asking the “how-many-chalk-bags” question.

But this is a different company entirely and Shackelford appears to have solved the first two problems. I transitioned to Rock Chalk seamlessly and didn’t even remember that I had switched until I looked at my hands and saw a color other than white. For me, it works every bit as good as my mainstay, Metolius’ Super Chalk.

I should mention that RC.com Booty Crew member, maculated, experienced something very different when she brought it to her local gym to gather opinions. “I kid you not when I tell you that the entire co-op was dancing around like young girls covered in spiders,” she explains. “There was cooties-style wiggling, and rapid wiping of hands on pants.” But after much figuring and [i]hmmm[/i]-ing with maculated and Shackelford, I’ve come to the conclusion that the finely-ground Rock Chalk only feels more slick to those used to chunky block chalk, i.e., K-mac’s crew. There's reason to believe that the dispersal method may effect its feel, as well. Using a chalk ball, which I also do, could be the ticket.

But never fear, environmentally-minded block chalkers: Terra Firma reports that block Rock Chalk (say it five times fast!) is likely on the way.

[img]http://www.rockchalk.net/images/manufacturing2.jpg[/img]
[size=8]Chalk and gray rocks, a winning combination.[/size]

Rock Chalk contains an all-natural pigment that is made of… are you ready for this? Rocks. Its actual substance is a guarded secret, but Shackelford assures me that the stuff comes straight out of the ground. I know that this doesn’t determine whether or not it will actually stain, but hey, [i]white[/i] chalk stains. I can name you several crags that have chalk marks aplenty to bewilder archeologists ten thousand years from now.

[img]http://img85.exs.cx/img85/7296/uglyfacechanged4yq.jpg[/img]
[size=8]Say, Zandor... what do you suppose all this 10,0000-year-old white powdery stuff is?[/size]

So, how many chalk bags would a chalk user use if a chalk user did use Rock Chalk? Just one; pick the color that matches the rock you climb most. All the other crags you frequent will get a little off color, but what’s worse, gray on red stone or blazing white?

While I’m on the subject, the biggest complaints I heard about Rock Chalk all involved its color. One climber whined only half jokingly that he couldn’t see his tick marks. Another remarked that he looked like he’d been playing with a turd after using the red chalk, and yet another was disappointed that by “colored chalk” I didn’t mean dayglo green, pink and blue.

Whether Rock Chalk and Terra Firma go the way of their slimy predecessor remains to be seen. It’s not clear that Rock Chalk is easily available for the masses yet, and to be honest, I tend to buy the chalk that’s geographically closest to my wallet – brand loyalty be damned. Unless you have an REI nearby, you have to order it from Terra Firma’s website, which is above.

Rock Chalk comes in two-ounce portions (same as a standard block) sealed in handy zipper baggies, which is a little ironic considering the environmental purpose that drove its inception. But then again, in what else could it be packaged? Take your pick of gray, yellow or two tones of red, or if you want a closer match, contact Terra Firma for a custom mix at no extra charge.

I'm rating Rock Chalk at three 'biners, but that will certainly rise to four when Terra Firma starts to produce Rock Chalk in blocks.

Note: As of the posting of this review, Montrail has lowered the retail price of the Splitter to $80.

How many different pairs of rock climbing shoes were on the market in 1984? Ten? Eleven? How many are on the market now? I’d count them all off for you but I don’t have nearly enough fingers, toes and penises. Suffice to say that there are many, including oodles and oodles of specialty shoes. What’s a poor climber to do? Well, I for one prefer the old Immelda Marcos approach. I have a pair for steep sport and sport-tradding, a pair for slabbing, a pair for gym training and now, I have a pair for crack climbing: the Montrail Splitter.

When Montrail embarked on the journey of the Splitter, they set out to make the definitive trad shoe, one that would climb everything happily, especially cracks, and be comfy enough to stay on all day. Well, a climbing shoe can be comfortable enough to wear square dancing and more durable than a pair of clogs in Amsterdam, but if it only performs like the kid who played a tree in your elementary school class play, you’ll be hosed come climb time.

I’ll tell you how the play ends right now: the Splitter beats the bad guy and gets the girl.

Montrail climber, prolific first ascensionist and trad guru, Jim Donini climbs almost exclusively in his Splitters on everything from hand-sized cracks to sport routes on his home turf of Ouray, CO. “I’m not much into the super cambered shoes that are out these days,” he explains. “I need more comfort.”

“I have a new line I’ve been eying on Fitzroy in Patagonia,” he continues. “It’s 4000 feet of mostly crack climbing and I’ll definitely use them on that.” Comparing the splitters to his old stompers, La Sportiva’s Mythos, Donini feels that they also edge better and last longer. And while the unlined, leather Splitters do certainly stretch, he hasn’t noticed as much give as from the Mythos, which for him translates to a more precise feel on stone.

Donini has found a contraindication or two for the Splitter, though, namely thin cracks, on which he prefers a shoe with an even thinner toe tip, such as Montrail’s Zealot. Also, Ouray’s sport routes don’t tend to be very steep, so if you’re into radness, seek something more aggressive and more sensitive.

OK, I’m about to talk about the Splitter’s rubber, dubbed Gryptonite by Montrail’s mad scientists. But before I do, I should mention that for the last fifteen years I have been, for the most part, Five-ten’s b----. I bought my first pair in 1990 and after a long string of Five-tens, have purchased yet another pair as recently as the last three months. So, technically, I’m still their b----. When I heard that Montrail took steady aim at what they feel is the optimal balance of hardness and stickiness, the first thing I thought to do was to put it toe to toe against the benchmark of sticky rubber, Five-ten’s C4.

I hopped on a Stone Mountain classic, a sustained .10d/.11a slab called Captain Crunch, which has a good mix of hard smearing and dime edging. I climbed it twice; first in a pair of Five-tens to draw a baseline and second in my Splitters for comparison. When smearing, the Splitters stuck to granite like murder charges to Scott Peterson, but when I tried to stand on credit-card-thin edges, they tended to melt off just a hair easier then did their C4-equipped counterparts. On moderate routes with normal-sized holds, the Splitter is exemplary, sticking to everything with an outstanding balance of sensitivity and support.

As for durability, I defer to Donini, who has probably logged more vertical feet in the Splitters than anybody else, and classifies himself as “not easy on shoes.” Nevertheless, he reports that only once did he have a problem with his Splitters, when a secondary eylet gave way. “Other than that,” he says, “they’re way more durable than the Mythos.”

My conclusion: the Splitters are as sticky as a Yosemite dirtbag’s crotch, but if you need to lay down mileage on $10 worth of dime edges, find something a little stiffer. And of course, all of this means squat if you just want a shoe that does most everything well and one or two things extremely well. If that’s you, then you want the Splitter.

Once I had established that the Splitter is what Montrail claims it to be, e.g., the crack-rippin’ shizznit, I needed to test out their other claims. One such is that it makes an outstanding all-day shoe. To do this, I needed a bigger gun than just Jim Donini. I needed a climber gifted with abnormally wide, Fred-Flintstonesque feet. You know; the type of feet that rock shoes despise with vengeance. Thankfully, Momma and Poppa _ung equipped me with two at birth. It’s for this reason that I normally shy away from lace-ups on long routes. With a Velcro or a slipper, I can yank my tires off at belays and rest my aching wheels. But this time… on a crisp autumn day, at the bottom of The Pulpit, a foot-pounding, five-pitch Stone Mountain friction slab-a-thon… I locked my feet into my Splitters and threw away the key.

[img]http://img151.exs.cx/img151/2186/dsc0092changed0qv.jpg[/img]
[size=8]My freakish right foot.[/size]

[img]http://img159.exs.cx/img159/5629/dsc0093changed1jc.jpg[/img]
[size=8]My svelte, Splitter-adorned right foot. Note the narrow profile of the toe box and the generous helping of toe rand. Look out cracks! Here I come![/size]

Months earlier at Devils Tower, my friend and long-time partner, Phil Hoffman, himself a 5.11 trad climber, had made the same decision. In the DT cracks, the Splitter reigned supreme and despite their stretchiness and a small air pocket or two, he reported reasonable comfort, solid performance and excellent stickiness. But after three pitches of non-stop smearing all I could do was grunt as I clawed at my laces and ripped the shoes from my whining dogs. Point settled: The Splitters are all-day comfortable on normal feet. On my elephantine pods, however, the edges of the tongue, which seems a bit too padded, left pressure points. (Ironically, the thick tongue helps make the shoe [i]more[/i] comfortable in cracks.)

From the above, you may think that I give the Splitter a failing grade in comfort. Not so. Since then, my Splitters have stretched to accommodate my almost-wider-than-they-are-long flippers, and while I still can’t strap ‘em on and stay in ‘em all day, they don’t seem to hate me more than any other climbing shoe.

If you’re still riding the fence on whether or not to drop the jing on a pair of Splitters, instead of, say, a pair of Mythos, consider that the Splitter is the cheaper of the two by $57.50! And if you're still not convinced, then just stay tuned. Montrail’s brainiacs are currently working on a comfort-based innovation for their entire line of rock shoes. I’ve seen this innovation first hand. And while I can’t let the cat out of the bag just yet, I will say that if it works, the 2006 Splitters may be known as the trad shoe equivalent of the second coming.

I and my “feet” are waiting patiently, counting the days on fingers, toes and, y’know… [i]other[/i] appendages.

[size=12][b]Full Disclosure: The company that manufactured this equipment provided it free of charge to RC.com and RC.com then provided it as compensation to the reviewer for his or her review. This company does not currently advertise on RC.com.[/b]

One of the first pieces of equipment I ever reviewed for RC.com was Trango’s Cinch. In terms of writing gear reviews, I was greener than Ralph Nader’s baby’s poop. So, like most people who hear of the Cinch, hold it in hand and actually use one, I took the easiest tack and compared it to the Gri-gri. I still feel like this is a viable way to review the Cinch, since everybody who climbs more than stairs has by now used a Gri-gri. I’m sure Trango has been a little bummed about the Cinch’s inability thus far to step out from the Gri-gri’s shadow, but there you have it.

Now, however, there’s a new and improved Cinch and I have something else to compare [i]it[/i] to: the old Cinch. My review of the original Cinch is in red. My comments about the new Cinch are in black.

[color=red][b]Lock off:[/b] The Cinch locks faster and harder than the Gri-gri, making for an even less-dynamic catch. In time, I might learn to like this. Right now, I find it to be the Cinch's biggest liability. Oops! Did I say the L-word? [/color]

Damn, I feel like such an asshole for that remark. Sorry, Malcolm! To make up for it, here’s a pretty picture of my new Cinch in action.

[img]http://photos.rockclimbing.com/photos//742/74282.jpg[/img]

But unfortunately, the hard lock is still the thing I like least about the Cinch. I especially notice it as a belayer; the Cinch really likes to yank me around. A gym partner of mine was working a crux just over the second bolt, and he took fall after fall. After about the fifth fall with so little rope out (and all of it stretched), I had to bring him down. Thanks to the Cinch’s lack of an internal spring, it locks up so suddenly and so tightly… it’s merciless.

What the Cinch does have going for it in this department, and which I neglected to mention in my first review, is that Trango designed it to work on a wider range of ropes than the Gri-gri. I feel more confident using my Cinch with my 9.4mm rope than with any other belay device. And of course, the other bright side is that I rarely have to time my jump anymore; it tends to just happen.

[color=red][b]Release: [/b]Once loaded, the Cinch is -- at first -- a little difficult to release. You'll be inclined to yard on the lever hard the first few times you use it. Make damn sure that your brake hand is firmly established, because when this baby opens, it REALLY opens. If you load a Gri-gri backwards (moron!), it's still a highly-functional non-auto-locking device. Not so the Cinch; there will be precious little friction.

[b]Lower:[/b] It takes a little getting used to (see Release above), but once you learn to control tension in the lever, it's nice and smooth. One of the first things you'll notice about the Cinch is that the lever is on the right. Left-handed belayers will love love love this feature. Don't worry righties, it's pretty easy to reach across the back of the device and lower in the manner to which you're accustomed. (Now you know how we feel!)

IMPORTANT NOTE: We all know that slapping a Gri-gri in the hands of someone who can't otherwise belay well is a recipe for disaster. Well, the Cinch is even more so. If you're thinking of getting one so your kid can catch you when when you grease off your project, think again. You. Will. Die. (Mostly likely when he or she attempts to lower you for the first time.) [/color]

Big change here! The new Cinch features a longer lever, which makes the release smoother and lowering easier to control. When belaying with thin ropes, take Trango’s advice: clip a biner to your leg loop and redirect the brake through it. This simple addition to the system solves any control problem that lowering might present. And even without it, releasing and lowering are much easier to master than with the old Cinch.

What hasn’t changed in this regard is that it’s still an exceptionally poor idea to hand a Cinch to a n00b and then climb on with all caution of a drunken rodeo clown. Cinches (and Gri-gris) are [i]advanced[/i] belay devices for [i]advanced[/i] belayers.

[color=red][b]Feed:[/b] It's much easier to feed rope correctly with the Cinch than it is to feed rope correctly with the Gri-gri. With the latter, you need large hands to keep a brake on the rope and feed at the same time, but with the Cinch, a simple twist to the left will put your brake hand in just the right place. As with the release (see above) once you have it open to feed, you can throw rope like Randy Johnson hucks fast balls; there is almost no resistance. [/color]

No change here. The new Cinch crushes the Gri-gri in this department.

[color=red]All in all, the Cinch is quite a good option for those who don't already have a Gri-gri. Like with any belay device -- especially those with moving parts -- expect it to take some time to really learn how to use it properly. [/color]

And I’ve learned that using it properly might not include using it for roped soloing. AMGA guide Mark Beverly recently performed several dynamic drop tests on Cinches and other belay devices, and Cinches displayed surprising results. They broke.

However, and this is a big HOWEVER, I have some reservations about the way in which Beverly tested his Cinches. He attached one Cinch to the ground and one to an 80kg test load. He then full-on, UIAA-high-factor dropped that sucker and observed the aforementioned results. The problem is that Beverly also tied stopper knots right up next to both Cinches to completely eliminate the chance of rope slipping through the devices from either end. The Cinch, it turns out, is designed to allow slippage at 7kN. Deprived of its design-given right to relieve a few thousand Sir Isaacs, the test left 7kN in the dust and the Cinch attached to the load end of the system broke.

While it’s worth noting that every device Beverly tested was subjected to the exact same rigors and that only the Cinch broke under them, there is some debate over whether or not it’s fair to test a device in a way that specifically prohibits its intended function.

It is also worth noting that a stopper knot right next to the device and a device attached to a falling load – not a belayer – most closely resembles what one might rig for roped soling, hence my previous point. If you decide not to heed my and Trango's advice and you do use a Cinch for roped soloing, you must refrain from tying stopper knots within a few feet of the device. It must be allowed to relieve tension as designed.

[color=red]Special note: Gri-gris have become standard equipment for course setters in gyms and don't expect the Cinch to supplant them. The Cinch brutalizes you with an anchor-hating fall-and-stop, fall-and-stop rappel during which it is exceptionally difficult to control tension in the lever. That might be different with a lot more practice, but if you already set routes with a perfectly good Gri-gri, why bother?[/color]

I’ve also been using my new Cinch exclusively for any and all routesetting that forces me off a ladder and for fixed rope photography. The longer lever shines like a brand new biner in both applications and my Cinch has supplanted my beat-up old Gri-gri, which now lives in a bin in my closet.

Where does all this leave us? It leaves me with a device that I can recommend without reservation for well-protected trad climbing, sport climbing and top roping. If you’re a casual cragger or a gym climber, then with a little QT, there’s a good chance you’ll end up liking it more than a Gri-gri. You’ll definitely end up liking it more than the old Cinch. Likewise, if your gig is high-end sport routes and you like riding the wave of thin cords to hit the market in the last few years, here’s your new belay device. I’ll let you make your own decision about aid climbing and roped soloing.

All in all, the new Cinch is substantially better than the old Cinch, and I think, perhaps, the Gri-gri’s long shadow just got a little shorter.
[/size]

When some anonymous sailor first placed a high-carbon steel carabiner in the hands of some nameless climber, a single thought probably occurred to that climber: “What the--?!”

It’s possible that he fondled it thoughtfully, before a second thought occurred to him: “Like I need this crap with countless trees and chocks to wrap my hemp rope around.”

“I’ll give it a try,” he might have said. “But I don’t think it’s worth the weight or the price.” Get ready to say the same about DMM’s latest innovation, the Revolver.

The Revolver is two-thirds ‘biner and one-third pulley and yes, it’s both heavy and expensive. But like that nameless climber who gave a funny steel clippy thing the benefit of the doubt and forever changed your rack, don’t pass it up without some consideration. Last summer, when Rockclimbing.com CEO, Michael Reardon, met up with Rock & Ice’s Matt Samet in California’s Needles, Samet produced a handful of Revolvers, much to Reardon’s shock and surprise. “When he handed that thing to me,” recalls Reardon, "I remember thinking, ‘this is the dumbest thing I’ve ever seen.’”

And Reardon was not alone in his skepticism. Writing for Britain’s High Magazine in December, 2004, Andy Kirkpatrick reports, “My first thought was… some kind of pointless rescue or top roping Karabiner.”

But without exception, each reviewer soon changed his mind. Raleigh writes, “Clip a Revolver on a piece of zig-zagged gear and the reduction in rope drag is nearly equal to clipping a full-length runner on the same piece. When your gear doesn’t zag, the self-lubricating roller bearing still pulls heavy duty, minimizing drag and, consequently, wear and tear on your rope.”

If reducing wear and tear sounds OK, how does decreasing the likelihood of a marginal piece killing you make you feel? Says Kirkpatrick, "For headpointing, big walling, ice-climbing and anywhere marginal gear is found having a Revolver could not only make the actual ‘stopping’ difference, but also provide you with a significant psychological boost, especially if matched to a ripper sling (load limiter – J.)."

[img]http://img106.exs.cx/img106/3194/ropedragchanged9xg.jpg[/img]
[size=8]This shot, submitted by braaaaaaaadley, is called Rope drag... ain't it a b*+@#! Not with a couple Revolvers it ain’t![/size]

Reducing rope drag has an upside in every style of climbing, save bouldering and free soloing. Alpine and ice? According to Kirkpatrick, “They are especially noticeable if you’re trying to squeeze the full 60m out of a rope, reducing that ‘walking into a hurricane’ stance often taken by climbers power climbing to the anchors up snow slopes.”

Sport climbing? I have a theory that I call The Thin Line. The Thin Line theory states that if you’re climbing at your true and absolute limit, the overall weight and the resistance you feel draws a line at which success is either won or lost. The line is paper thin. If you come in one nanometer over it, you won’t send; one iota under it and you will. Everything you can do to put yourself under that line directly affects where your limit will be found. So, whether you’re pushing toward a 5.9 redpoint or trying to be the first human to onsight .14c, you must adjust The Thin Line. Take a leak, carry only what you absolutely need, cut your hair, think light thoughts and… minimize rope drag. Revolver time?

But, the Revolver has a few downsides also, and while a rack full of them would certainly be heavy in price and poundage, its cost and weight are the least of its worries. Most troublesome to me are the effects of using a Revolver in the wrong circumstances, such as the first few pieces of gear on any pitch. Before rope drag is really an issue, a Revolver could make the belayer’s job significantly more difficult, so don’t use it unless you have enough rope out to absorb impact force. Though you might think that it would be good for toprope anchors, those who have tried it there don’t care for it. And, to date, I’ve been unable to locate anybody who has actually used it to haul a pig for one pitch, let alone 28.

If, however, rope drag is like your hostile ex who kept your favorite T-shirt and still owes you a C-note from that time you bailed him or her out of the Yosemite pokey, then the Revolver may become your new mistress/boytoy to whom you turn for dirty satisfaction. How many times have you approached the final crux of a wandering trad pitch, only to find that you had to fight for your life against your very lifeline. Just clipping a draggy rope is a nightmare, especially if your stance is tenuous. At the moment when it’s finger-locks-or-pine-box, summit-or-plummet, make-the-clip-or-take-the-whip and your own rope suddenly sides with gravity, how much would you pay for less rope drag? Would you pay Twenty-five bucks for a Revolver? Fifty for two? I sure would.

Add two or three of these babies to your rack; you won’t substantially increase your weight. In fact, if you replace two wire-gated ‘biners with two Revolvers, your net weight increase will be somewhere in the neighborhood of a half ounce. And what the Hell, I have a birthday comin' up. Add two or three to MY rack and you won’t increase your weight at all.