Are Lobster-Claw Gloves the Hybrid Handwear We Need?

Heading out the door? Read this article on the Outside app available now on iOS devices for members!
Download the app.

We Don’t Need Another Spork

By Miyo McGinn, Outside assistant editor

Lobster-claw gloves are the spork of cold-weather apparel: hybrid gear that accomplishes none of its tasks as capably as the standalone equivalent. A spork is a leaky spoon with tines too short to spear anything; the lobster claw is—take your pick—a chilly mitten or a glove with lousy dexterity. Where skiing is concerned, I want a full-finger design when I know I’ll be doing stuff (ripping skins, swapping layers), and mittens when warmth is paramount. What I don’t want is a mashup that nods at both without delivering on either.

I also see no need for a single glove or mitten to cover both scenarios, since I always tour with two pairs of gloves anyway—one for the uphill and one for the down, when the first is too sweaty to keep my hands warm. If I’m already carrying multiple pairs of gloves, it makes sense for each to suit its intended use.

I prefer lighter gloves while skinning (my go-tos are Black Diamond). The energy I’m burning means I don’t require a lot of insulation to be comfortable, and they offer better dexterity when transitioning. At the top, I switch to hefty mittens—preferably something waterproof and generously insulated. Bulk isn’t an issue, since the only task my hands have on the way down is holding on to my poles.

If you want warm hands, wear mittens; if you need nimble fingers, go with gloves. Sporks are better in theory than in practice.

These Gloves Are the Perfect Combination of Dexterity and Warmth

By Jake Stern, Outside digital editor

I’ve spent most of my career arguing against compromise when it comes to gear. If something’s labeled hybrid, almost always it’ll disappoint you twice. Take hybrid skis—neither light enough for going up nor stable enough on the way down. So I like my backcountry skis to weigh about two pounds, and if I had my way, my alpine skis would weigh fifty. Compromise is fine when you’re a student, when you have young kids, or in other instances when good enough will see you through. But it’s never better than the real deal.

It may come as a surprise then that I’m climbing up on my soapbox to tell you about my lord and savior come wintertime: the lobster-claw glove. “Aren’t lobster claws a hybrid?” you ask. No, they’re a paragon of sensible design, warmth and dexterity made manifest in a tidy leather package. Whether you’re riding chairlifts, booting couloirs, or (God forbid) snowshoeing, you’ll inevitably need to reach into your pack or futz with a buckle or maybe even open a beverage. Lobster claws won’t hinder your motor skills, thanks to the free index finger, and will keep you warm while you wait for your partner to catch up.

Lobster claws are the preferred accessory of ski patrollers and mountain-warfare divisions. Why? Because they work better than five-finger gloves or full-blown mitts. My hands stay just as warm in a lobster claw as in a standard mitt, and I can just as easily buckle my boots or strap into my crampons as I can while wearing gloves. The claw’s trigger-finger design is unfazed by zippers or clips, and by keeping the majority of your fingers together, they trap more heat. What’s that? Your index finger is cold? If Tommy Caldwell doesn’t need one, neither do you.