Everybody has to sleep, right? Well, at least everyone I know needs to. As climbers, we can spend the night in a lot of unusual places while plying our craft, and fortunately most of them are free.

To some, sleeping under the stars may seem like a romantic idea. The simplest way to do that would be what we call a bivouac, or a bivi. One definition of a bivouac that I found describes it as “a temporary camp without tents or cover, used especially by soldiers or mountaineers”. I like that a lot, and think it’s pretty accurate. Before I get into talking about bivis, though, there’s an even more basic way of spending the night as a climber than a bivi, and that is not sleeping at all. A number of times in my life, I’ve been on climbs where conditions demanded that I didn’t go to sleep, period. On some mountains, it can be imperative that you climb during the night when, for example, snow will be more frozen so you can more easily walk on it. Once the sun comes up, it can soften snow so much that you sink in deeply and the climb becomes an exercise in futility. It can also loosen up rocks that may otherwise be frozen into ice or snow, letting them roll down a slope and become dangerous missiles. And even worse, it can create conditions where the avalanche hazard is greatly increased. Every year, world-wide, more climbers are killed by avalanches than any other cause. Another reason for not sleeping at all is that the climb is so demanding that you need to keep moving with no chance to rest – too many miles to cover or too much difficulty to overcome within a set time period. Yet another reason for not sleeping is that you may want to climb at night so you won’t be seen by others, a typical stealth.

One type of bivi is the unplanned kind. Sometimes you simply run out of daylight and are forced to spend the night where darkness overtakes you. This has happened to me three times in recent years. Once was with Dave Jurasevich in California – we started a climb too late and ran out of time. Determined as we were to get our summit, we got there at the end of the day and then night fell, Fortunately for us, a mountain hut was nearby and, primitive as it was, we were at least out of the elements for the night. We hadn’t brought sleeping bags or tent, so I guess you could say it was an unplanned night out, but since there was a roof over our heads it wasn’t a bivi. That was luxury compared to two other times with Brian Rundle – the first was on a technical climb in the desert wilderness in the winter. We got our summit, but were benighted on the way down. The night was spent in a dramatic setting high on the peak, huddled together for warmth in a spot where there wasn’t room enough to lie down, waiting 14 hours for daylight so we could continue rappelling down the mountain. The second time was a few years later on another technical climb – once again we ran out of time, but found a cave in which to shelter for the night, of course with no overnight gear such as sleeping bags. That cave was definitely more comfortable than the rocky notch of the previous climb, though, as we could lie down and make a fire.

So, those are examples of staying put for the night with no tent or sleeping bag. Here in the desert, it’s also possible to go climbing where you don’t bring a tent with you but choose to sleep out in the open, “under the stars”. This can be easily done when there’s no risk of rain or snow – just laying your sleeping bag on a ground sheet or a tarp can work just fine. It’s easier to get away with this in the winter when critters like rattlesnakes are hibernating and won’t crawl into your sleeping bag with you. I’ve slept many nights in the desert like this. Another thing that can be done is to pull that same ground sheet or tarp over you if it does rain.

Back in the 1970s in British Columbia, we commonly used a thin, closed-cell piece of foam under our sleeping bag as a bit of padding. I don’t think it was much over a half-inch in thickness, but it didn’t soak up any water and was pretty effective. Blue foam is what we called it, and it was very lightweight and could roll up small. You could easily spend the night out like that without a tent or any other cover, as long as you could tolerate the bugs. Once Gore-Tex was invented, one thing that was made from it was what they called a bivi bag. This changed things for us climbers. You simply slipped your sleeping bag inside it, zipped it up and hunkered down for the night. As long as you sealed the seams ahead of time, you could reasonably expect to spend a night out even in foul weather and still be dry in the morning. I found that my first-generation bivi bag worked better in snow than rain. If you didn’t mind the material right next to your face, this was a good way to shield yourself from the bugs as well.

Another curious way of spending a night out was to use what is known as an elephant’s foot, which is a half sleeping bag used to cover your lower body. It saves weight and room in your pack, being lighter than a normal, full-sized sleeping bag. Usually it would be used along with a warm parka on the upper part of your body, which you’d be carrying anyway on a cold-weather climb. I have a set of bib overalls, down-filled, which can be zipped in a way to form an elephant’s foot. I slept like that up high on Mohon Peak here in Arizona one chilly night back in the 1980s.

In cold, snowy conditions, hardy climbers have been known to build an igloo or a snow cave for shelter. Both of these work well if done carefully, but require skill and patience to execute properly. I won’t go into detail on these 2 types of shelters, as I’m not qualified to do so, but snow caves can be really great for keeping you out of a storm and have saved many lives. My only attempt to build and sleep in one was during a winter night in BC back in the 1970s, and a pretty pathetic effort it was, giving me a healthy respect for anyone who can make a proper one.

You’ve all heard of a lean-to. I guess if you have the know-how and proper materials at hand, you can construct one of these to protect you in certain conditions. I was once with a group of guys in the coast rainforest of BC in the early 1960s when foul weather moved in. We cut saplings to make a leaning frame, then covered it with evergreen boughs for protection from the rain. Hah! It was easily one of the most miserable nights of my life, and by morning we looked like a bunch of drowned rats, realizing that a lean-to would work better with a tarp or plastic sheet (we had none). Those smarter than we were can and do use a lean-to with great success, though, as shelter from the storm.

Which brings me to tents – no introduction needed here. All climbers have used them. They come in every conceivable color, shape, size, configuration and price range. It’s easy to get one quite specific to your needs. The first one I ever owned, an REI McKinley, could sleep 4 comfortably, and was way too much tent for just one or two of us. Nowadays, I own a lightweight one-person tent and a strong 2-man 4-season North Face tent which I’ve used with great success for many nights up to 20,000 feet elevation. Packing a tent is certainly going to give you quick shelter from the elements. You can set one up just about anywhere – on dirt, grass, rock, snow, ice – just about anywhere you find yourself when the need arises. Under more adverse conditions, you may need to prepare a spot for your tent – you might need to build up rocks or snow to create a large enough footprint so your tent’s floor can sit flat enough to do its job.

Assuming you could drive in close enough, your vehicle can be the perfect shelter for climbing. I’ve used my car to sleep in, but much prefer my old pick-em-up truck. I’ll thrash my way in as close as I can, park, then often spend the night comfortably. It’s easy to cook, sleep, etc…. from the safety and comfort of the bed of your truck and be all set to head out on foot in the morning. It’s rustic but works beautifully, and I spend quite a few nights like that while peakbagging. In 2015, I slept 29 nights in my truck and 6 in my tent. Not so much in 2016, with only 13 in the truck and 5 in my tent. So far this year, by the time June is over, I will have only spent 1 night in a tent but around 22 in my truck. There’s no doubt that at this point in my life, “car-camping” is the most common shelter I use while climbing.

In North America, climber’s huts aren’t very common. When encountered, they are often primitive – some are just  4 walls, a roof and a floor. Others may contain bunks and sometimes a wood-burning stove, while the best ones with the best facilities are often privately-owned and managed. In several countries, climber’s huts are run like hotels and open to the public – for a fee, you can enjoy hot meals prepared for you, comfy beds and the camaraderie of other climbers. Sometimes, after having been out climbing for many days, it’s easy enough to stop at a motel and pay for a shower to wash the stink off your body. Mountain climbers belong legitimately to the great unwashed, and you reach a point where you can’t stand yourself any longer.

While traveling to other countries and climbing on the cheap, I would usually look for the least expensive digs possible. This would be in towns between climbs. I’ve gotta be honest with you, Gentle Readers, and let you know I’ve taken that to an extreme. Rarely did a private bath come with such a room, and often the room was shared with others. New Zealand’s excellent system of backpacker’s hostels is a good example. In several South American countries, I found a cheap room plus breakfast for just a few bucks a night. Truth be told, some of them were really seedy, but you get what you pay for, right? I’ll never forget how low I sunk one time in southern Mexico. I arrived late one evening in San Cristóbal de las Casas in monsoon season and needed to get out of the weather for the night. I asked a kid on the street if he could direct me to the cheapest place in town (I was on a really tight budget). “No problem, follow me” he replied. I did, and found myself at some flophouse the likes of which even I had never seen. Four bare walls, a ceiling with one naked light bulb hanging down, and a DIRT floor. Several cots graced the room, with bedding that appeared to never have been washed since it left the factory. It was like being in some bad dream. Well, even I had a modicum of taste and quickly left to look for something better.

So that will give you some idea of the many ways climbers can spend their nights. Personally, I most enjoy the solitude of the mountains, far away from human settlements and even established campgrounds. Okay, I’ve gotta go, heading back into the hills for more climbing. Thanks for listening.