Salathe Wall, “Flying Jumars”
Mo and I realized we were missing a pair of jumars down at the belay. Russell 100 foot up on the lead: got em up here! Oh shit! Should I throw em down the line ???
The gears churn incongruously in my head. Visions of metal hardware impacting my special area at a rather unsettling terminal velocity. Wait a sec …. I read something about this …. in Piton’s Pete’s big wall book.
GUYS ! HOLD UP. We can snake charm em down the line.
The hell are you talking about jtizz ??
Trust me, I got this. I induced a standing wave of approximately 4.291 Hz, frequency based on the length of rope and stiffness of the attachment point on Russell’s harness, of course. Whenever a wave impacts a medium of contrasting stiffness, some portion of its energy passes through while the remainder reflects back down the line. These are advanced techniques.
Send em down Russell !!
Seeing those jugs hover in the air like a beautiful sycamore leaf on the breeze … ahh … it was pure big wall bliss. We couldn’t stop laughing, it was amazing how well it worked. Just the contrast between how silly it seemed and how well it worked. Here’s your jugs brahji.
Salathe Wall, “Working the Lines”
Mo and I are humping loads to the Heart Lines before launch day. Russell is at home being a good dad but his portion of the water does feel heavy. We opted to single carry and are sorely regretting it. Mo says his hips are going numb, I am doubled over on a rock unsure if I have the strength to right myself. I’m huffing and puffing, motionless, for about 5 minutes before realizing some Moby Dick climbers are enjoying some amusement at my expense. “I can do this” I call back. Good natured laughter ensues.
We got to the lines and hung out with a team of three planning to climb Triple Direct. All three in the party their first time going up the Captain. Psycheddddd. Shipoopi appears and we discuss wide climbing on the high lonesome – EXCALIBUR. He said he’s got a route in Patagonia that makes Excalibur look like child’s play. I’m picturing icy off width, maybe you even have to dodge ice daggers or something. Psych is even higher.
An hour or two passes and the Triple Homies on Triple Direct have not moved too far. The bag has taken up long term residence on the first anchor. “Oh man, I had too much coffee to sit down here much longer man. Someone has to do something.” I jugged up the line and introduced myself in the most folksy Midwestern way possible: “Howdy y’all! Want some help?” “Yeah sure thing, these bags are heavy!”
An alliance was formed: I’d go on ahead and break out the 2:1, no-stretch space cord (same one that astronauts use), super swivel pulley, sealed ball bearings. Equipment for the modern big wall professional. Mo would work with the remaining two guys to get our bags up the slabs. Everything went perfectly after that. It was really fun making some new friends on the wall. Picture perfect golden rappels when the job was done, on some new lines too. We all learnt that space hauling is less effective when: 1) the rope rubs over a lip below the anchor (lots of friction) and 2) moving up low angle slabs (even more friction, and impossible to get all the space haulers’ weight on the line short of bouncing up and down – NO THANKS. Better in this situation to have the mechanical advantage located AT the anchor. Oh yeah, almost forgot, the Triple Homies Triple sent their route..hell YEA.
Zodiac, “Shennanners”
I arrived at the first belay of Zodiac in fine spirits. The pitch had went off without a hitch. I later read such was the site of one giant gear-ripping whipper, as well as Deucey’s long rope twisting fall resulting from a self-belay system gone awry. It was probably for the best I wasn’t aware of such occurrences at the time however I do find it poignant how a certain location on the rock can be fraught with “the weight of history”. You can feel it in your bones. Shortly after this I burnt my hand trying to lower the bags out hand-over-hand. A few pitches later Paul got the rope stuck at the lower out point:
Now how did that brand new rope get so twisted? Couldn’t have been to do with the shite anchor I built a few pitches ago. I blamed it on Paul since he pulled on only one strand of the bight. If you pull on both strands evenly the bight seems to slide through more smoothly. That is the most important thing to do, when something goes wrong on a big wall. STOP. THINK. About how to blame your partner for everything that has gone wrong since you left the meadow.
Salathe Wall, “Stuckaroooooooo”
It was day two on the Salathe, the one with all the wide pitches. You know what I’m talking about. Sunrise saw Jim Reynolds blasting past us and threatening to grab Mo’s ladders if he didn’t hurry up and clean “The Move” pitch faster. Total psych lord. Smiles all round. Last I saw he was rocketing up the Monster, in which time we had accomplished approximately 43 feet of vertical progress.
Russell had led The Ear on our last go round and proclaimed it to be a “mighty” pitch. A might frightening maybe. That was before the thunderstorms aka “The Bail-ening”. This time I reckoned it was my turn to give er a go, that being one benefit of returning to a route – the chance to lead all the pitches you followed previously. I scooted up into the bottom of the slot. “ Unbothered. Moisturized. Happy. In My Lane. Focused. Flourishing.”
I embraced my instinctual desire (as a dirt engineer) to burrow as deep into the slot as possible. Gone to my happy place. However I found it impossible to exit upwards as the bewitching feature pinched down directly above my position. “Hmm. I’m in a tight spot. Best to get a look round and reassess.” I turned my head to blue skies and freedom and heard an ominous scratching noise.
“Huh” “What could that be? MORE wall rats ???”
Unfortunately it wasn’t wall rats but the sound of my prescription sunglasses snapping in half at the bridge against the rock. “I finally killed my sunnies !!” I wailed down to Mo and Russell. “Oooooooo” they encouragingly called back.
Where the mind wanders in such trying moments truly illuminates the workings of one’s inner psyche.
Mine went:
“SAVE ME ROYAL ROBBINS” SAVE ME TOM FROST AND CHUCK PRATT OH WOE IS ME”
After that brief psychovertiginous break I collected myself and oozed downwards, outwards, and back up again. Free at last!
OH SH!T
The #5 cam was buried way back there at my previous stance, utterly unreachable.
I briefly considered continuing on and leaving Mo to deal with my mess. However, it seemed a less than honorable thing to do. I was just able to get my fingertips round the extended sling I had clipped to the piece and began waving it frantically up and down. Come on …. Come on …. No climber has ever been so jubilant to see a cam fall out of the crack. GOT IT!
The rest of the pitch went swimmingly. Without the aid of basic vision, I braille booked my way up the Ear. “There are holds! GOD BLESS YOU ROYAL ROBBINS”
This time no storm clouds came, and the full moon rose sweet and still. “And that’s how it goes here in Yosemite Valley.”
“Bitchslapped” – the climatic climactic final battle of our FIRST, but not LAST, Salathe slow run.
Gray calm. I have settled into C1+ aid rhythm, only gripe being the THROB THROB THROB from STEP STEP STEPPING up my ladders in TC Pros. The result of an overly confident attitude towards free climbing this pitch up the right side of the dramatic El Cap Spire. At least I got to do some finger locks. But then when it got rattley and I couldn’t make a knee bar work to rest, slipping off, ah so pumped, no way to hang on. Just let go and whip back to the belay. Cheeky grin, back to aid mode. Should I change back to approachies? No time the Germans are coming.
…
…
some minutes later…
…
…
Step up, look up, measure the pod with my pointer finger, little finger, grab it, check harness, still have a couple totems, dang no more blue ones left, yeah but you have a blue/yellow offset, love that piece, maybe I should try to save it since I don’t have the blue totem, ok, so how about an offset nut? Meh, it’s not that much further, hurry up jtizz the Germans are waiting for you, yeah that guy is a pretty strong climber but we actually kept up a good pace today and OW my feet hurt, is the drizzle going to stop anytime soon? place the cam, feels better, yeah I’ll leave that one for pro for sure, it’s so bomb. Grab black totey I’m standing on, I’ll only fall like 25 feet maybe, the pitch isn’t horrifically back cleaned even though, yeah I probably should have brought some more gear, WAIT maybe I should have left black totey for pro, I was already standing on it longer and now my weight is on the offset and I didn’t test it that well, but nothing to hit, whatever, yeah ok, reach up with happy alfifi, walk up cinch up, yessss so mr. totey will probably go in next, the crack is even nicer ahead, still pretty thin, it’s only C1 … maybe C2- NO BIG DEAL
RINSE AND REPEAT
Until, end of the crack, oh my god I have no freakin gear left. Jeez. UGH my stoopid feet !! Why did I wear TCs !! Cold wind, soaking rain, I’m so cold, get me to the alcove! Look up stand up, it’s a hand jam! OH FUCK YES IT FEELS SO GOOD, my hands in the nice crack, I AM A FREE CLIMBING GOD, step left, onto ledge, bolts SO HAPPY. RUSSELL I’M OFF BELAY and my aider blowing down there in the breeze where I stepped out and up the crack, my signature calling card and the mark of a TRUE wall aficionado.
There is perhaps no finer cure for the creeping death of wall chill than a good long haul. And this is a damn fine one to haul, the bag elegantly arcing off this ever-so-slightly oververtical stretch of golden granite wall. The ledge perfectly flat for squatting and my 2:1 adjusted just so. I LIKE THIS. I like things that repeat over and over again. Count pattern, 1-2-3-4, 2-2-3-4, 3-2-3-4, 4-2-3-4 left to right, count it up to down, 4-2-3-4, 3-2-3-4, ahhhhhhhh ….. yeaaaaaaaa … I’m not even tired or cold at all anymore!
Russell led us up into the alcove. I was feeling pretty bushed from all the wide. Thank god I didn’t have to lead the Ear. Even though the #6 cam fell out of the crack and bonked me on the head. Whatever.
Hey Russell, what do you say, let’s eat some dinner and hunker down. This place is pretty posh.
I think we should do one more pitch, JT how do you feel?
I’m soaked and cold. Let’s let the Germans go ahead.
OK sounds good!
Soaking wet clothes, GET OFF ME soaking wet clothes! Scarf chow. Drink water. These are my needs, they are fulfilled. Life is good..
How can I be so thirsty when I’m so wet. It doesn’t make any sense!
Big yawn.
The Germans already made it onto the spire, dang that was so cool. He just totally stem lorded the gap. Looks kinda airy and my hands feel more crampy than I would like.
Time to go.
OH man you can see all the way through the other side to the ground. Don’t look down! lol. This so KEWL.
There’s a handcrack! Well kinda flarey, whatever, I’ma try and free it! Go go go, ahhh CRAMP CRAMP it’s a cramp nooooooooo
Still got it! On sighting 5.9- onto the spire, wait there’s an airy step across.
U vant me to clip tha rope? says Dr. German super stronk man.
No, I think I can do it. You grab up here?
Yaaas, of course, you must grab above, step ovah, it’s not so bad.
Yeah but you’re like a rock god, dude.
I made the move but the on sight turned into a flash. Ondra will be crushed to hear this news.
Time to haul,
Oh no! It’s raining again! My second pair of breetches and fleece about to be soiled. WAHHHHH sad emoji.
Takes me 10 years to set up the haul on this baffling spire. Wait your ropes are here, mine are, uh criss crossed now, must have corkscrewed that last move, hmm, was that thunder? Yep.
You guys sleeping in the alcove or up here?
We don’t haff ah ledge, we will go down to tha spyahledj, yah?
OK sounds good, we will sleep up here, RUSSELL YOU’RE FIXED
Gotta set up this haul, UGH
JT, how’s it going up there? You ready to haul?
ALMOST
All of a sudden the rain starts POURING DOWN. Big waterfalls coming down the crack right on top of all the cams. Poor Russell cleaning this pitch. His shoe goo’d approaches are totally wasted.
Well nothing to do but accept my fate. Haul haul away. My BACK is killing me, this is the worst haul ever. Everything sucks and I’m cold again. Now it’s wet AND cold. Just haul faster.
Finally the bag comes up and I lack the strength to lift it onto the spire.
Can you help me Russell?
One second JT, just gonna lower over so I don’t swing.
Yep, sounds good, take your time, no rush.
I’m kinda going quiet in that way I do, when the light is going out. No complaints, just quiet fear, palpable nonetheless despite my sorry attempt to hide it. The night is dark and full of terrors.
Let’s just get all our gear off and set up the ledge. Nice dry ledge.
Let’s do it.
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everything to everything else, everything everywhere, don’t want it to blow off the spire. The nightly camp set up routine,
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One rather unnerving step across the abyss to step into my beloved and DRY, D4 DELTA 2p. Synthetic bag.
You warm enough over there?
A little chilly.
It’s cold out there.
Yeahhp.
That was kinda gnar.
Yeah.
The clipped conversation of two climbers not wanting to acknowledge SUDDEN DOUBT. It’s the kind of doubt that slaps you in the face, the kind that ideally, you push down, unable to make it go away, at best just refusing to outwardly acknowledge as such, to push through, until at some inconceivable and yet as unknown future date and time when things *MIGHT* get better and the desire to be on the wall returns, because right now, most certainly, there is little desire to be here on this forsaken stretch of nothing-to-stand-on voidness.
…
How’s the forecast looking for the next couple days?
Not great not terrible.
I barely got service, oh maybe I’ll text Quinn, he can look it up for us and text us.
Nice, good idea.
He says we should keep going. lol. Of course! I don’t wanna let him down!
Ross my Camp4 homie just texted too, he says go for it! He on sighted Crack a Go Go the other day.
Nice.
…
…
Let’s see how we feel in the morning.
OK.
I love this ledge so much. Warm.
Good night Russell.
Good night JTizz.
…
It is dawn. Still and sunny. There is absolutely no reason whatsoever to go down other than some horrible stagnant dread has lodged in the monkey-est part of my dumb brain, the only part that remains active at this particular time. Maybe if I just pack up slow enough I’ll feel like climbing again. The air feels kinda cold and one layer of clothes, and another backup layer of clothes are soaked. Russell’s shoes are soaked.
Gonna be like trench foot levels of soaked.
Probs pretty slow going from here on out.
We already did the cool free pitches anyway.
You’re not gonna free the head wall?
lol
Let’s see, dig in the bottom of the bag, what do I have left to wear. Holey puff, maybe I can just wear my shell all the way up? But I’ll be like sweaty and gross, ewww.
…
We half heartedly organize the total junk show, I mean absolute complete yard sale of gear all over the spire, from last night. It looks like a freakin tornado ripped through. It was just some light showers, right? How far we have fallen from that glorious pic of RR chilling on this same proud spire we now find ourselves. I remember how neat and tidy everything was, and how calm he looked reclining by that boulder that’s still sitting right there.
At long last, after an hour or two of clipping, snacking, gazing at the Cathedrals, we arrive at the perfect singular moment –
that which each of us have arrived at … completely independently, without a single word to that effect, at least outwardly verbalized, in any way whatsoever… THE BAILING POINT – the harmonious question, was it me or Russell that asked it? no matter, because once it is uttered,
Down?
the resounding, clamorous inevitable and fatalistic report as that of a cannon blast reflecting off this wonderful arcing amphitheater of rock, back towards you the stupefied, grateful, and so entirely humbled to your soul listener, standing at its focal center,
Yeah. Let’s get out of here.
Liberty Cap, “The Gospel According to St. Paul”
Paul and I were walking off Liberty Cap after yet another successful ascent in our picture perfect partnership. As per usual I was parched and dunked my head in the pools by Nevada Falls. Tourist water never tasted so good. Although, the Glacier Point water by Sentinel comes close.
A gal walked up to me and asked if I was a climber.
“I dabble , yes”
“Wow what did you climb?”
“That pretty spire right behind ya! The Liberty Bell”
She looked around maybe expecting to find another similarly mangy, besodden (besotten?) looking human.
“Did you climb it solo? Like that movie? What was it called again?”
“Hmm not sure” I said. “Maybe you’re thinking of The Bong Wall.”
It was about this time that 3 days of sweat sunblock and tourist water began streaming into my corneas, tears waterfalling down burnt red cheeks. My voice broke as I struggled mightily against the sudden facial torrent.
“I climbed it with my special friend Paulie, he’s right over there. The best partner I ever had!”
I pointed to Paul sunning majestically next to the falls looking very saintly as always.
“Awwwwww, that’s so sweet” she said. “You guys make a cute couple!”
