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Maysho
climber
Truckee, CA
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Topic Author's Original Post - Aug 19, 2006 - 12:16am PT
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With care and best wishes for solo master Bachar on our minds, how about postin up your most memorable or close call, or life changing solo moment. a rad climb, a rain soaked descent, or your first day of first grade after your mom dropped you off.
I spent the day in the hot sun at donner teaching climbing to teens. So I need to let my brain cool down then I will share mine in the morning.
Peter
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bvb
Social climber
flagstaff arizona
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Aug 19, 2006 - 12:27am PT
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i gotta million of 'em. of the 300 or 400 free solo's i prolly done (and by free-solo i mean fall = die, not just a fractured femur or something) 99% were blissfull, live-enriching experiences, some even life changing; 1% were idiotic ventures i was lucky to live through. i still solo all the time, but only routes i have totally wired, 6 grades below my limit, and i never on-sight solo anymore at any grade. too old for that sh#t. plus there's my kids.....
lemme cogitate on my most stupid free-solo for awhile then i'll post up; it'll make a good story.
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JuanDeFuca
Big Wall climber
Stoney Point
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Aug 19, 2006 - 12:45am PT
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Stich, get some f*#king help man!
JDF
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golsen
Social climber
kennewick, wa
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Aug 19, 2006 - 12:59am PT
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Here you go Peter, I look forward to reading about many foolish adventures, although mine is not really scary.
Hopefully, free soloing is focus and control. Focus on that area of rock within your grasp, control of your mind and body to perform the right move. Never getting out of balance, never letting fear rise to the surface. The fear may be there, down deep inside but it is best for it to stay there. If it comes up, then I think you crossed the line. Only the climber will know if that happens, unless of course he ends up being a statistic.
I will never forget about 30 years ago when I started climbing. There was a climb called Bushwhack Crack, a 5.8 that kicked my ass. A local hardman, Rick Wyatt was often seen climbing it sans rope and continuing for a couple more pitches to the top of the Gate Buttress in LCC. His ascents seemed so solid that it became the image in my head of what climbing could and should be. That was my first exposure to soloing and at that time it seemed like something I wanted to do once I got good enough.
In the early 80’s I was soloing a fair amount, typically not harder than 5.9. I must say that Mr. Bachar influenced me a lot. I have never met the guy, and at that time I had never been to Yosemite, but those images of soloing hard climbs inspired me. That seemed like the ultimate. For me then it was not about what one climbed but how they climbed it. There was a canyon of good granite near my house with relatively short walls (Ferguson Cyn). It was neglected. I must say that when I was in my early 20’s (like I was in back then) there was something flowing in my blood that is not here now. Where did it go? What was it? (Is it as simple as testosterone?) At any rate, I went up to the neglected area as I had been eyeing a short arête problem. It had not been climbed before and was perhaps more like a highball than a real climb. I soloed it and it was very anticlimactic. I then soloed a couple other things that were not very good but all new routes. On the main wall was a line of small knobs to the right of the only existing climb. I did not consciously tell myself that I was going to solo it. I started to boulder up. Soon the moves were just flowing, the crux had a sequence that I climbed through without thought. The holds appeared and I pulled through and my body seemed to position itself perfectly. I was committed now and I just kept climbing. It was only the move ahead of me that seemed to enter my area of focus. Before I knew it, I was high on the wall at a seam that I could use to escape right. I realized that the smart thing to do was to exit but this climb should also finish proudly. So I did another few moves over a slight bulge on marginal holds, it seemed like the thing to do.
When I topped out I sat down in the warm sun and shook for about 10 minutes. During the climb I had not even thought about coming off except near the top. I think all of that pent up adrenalin had its way with me. At that time in my climbing career my best on-site was about 11a/b. To me the climb seemed like 5.9. It was later bolted by a party that had no knowledge of my ascent. It is rated 10c. Today, it is easy for me to realize the folly and risks I took soloing a new route that was so close to my limit. But today is also a time where more and more folks learn to climb in gyms, a sterile environment that does not breed the kind of adventure that was so evident prior to sport climbing.
I am not ripping on gyms or sport, simply stating that during Bachar’s heyday, the game we played was different, and the stakes were higher. It was simply rock climbing with no trad- or sport- prefix. And Mr. Bachar led the way for many, even those of us who grew up climbing in backwater areas.
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Mimi
Trad climber
Seattle
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Aug 19, 2006 - 01:16am PT
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John is definitely da man!
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smitty
Trad climber
Santa Cruz, Ca
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Aug 19, 2006 - 02:07am PT
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Gotta post this again:
my very first solo was in yosemite as I was waiting for friends to show up. I made the mistake of showing up alone two days before anyone I knew would be there, and suffered the agony of needing to climb. I had looked over the regular route up sunnyside bench before, and figured i'd check it out. It was mostly 4th class for the first couple hundred feet, so I reasoned that I'd climb until I wasn't comfortable and come down.
So I ditched my sandles at the base of the climb and headed up until I came to the first expose actual fifth class pitch. One option was the wider 5.5 crack or the knobby exposed 5.4. I chose the 5.5 for whatever reason and headed up this short pitch. Midway through my mind went wild on me, and the more I thought about what was below me, the harder the climb felt. In a short period of time I turned into the best human impersonation of a piton, cramming every part of my into the crack for security until i basically couldn't move. I broke the skin on my elbow and was now leaving blood behind and my feet started getting that slimy sweaty feeling in my shoes. Finally I just thought, this is rediculous, this is how people die climbing. I knew i was beyond able to climb this, so i just let go, took our my left hand and foot and used the face and eventually got to the little tree at the end of that pitch. After catching my breath, i looked up to see the last pitch COVERED in red ants. The ENTIRE pitch I climbed like a ballerina dancer, occcations swatting ants off my legs.
The adventure wasn't over. At the top i ran through the gammut of emotions, and basically felt wonderful. I walked barefoot along the climbers trail until I hit a shady section where luckily my eyes caught sight of the rattle snake that my foot was about to land on, coiled and looking right at me. I'm not sure how, maybe I turned a backflip, but i ended up ten feet back faster than i can remember. I sat and threw rocks at trying to get it to get off the trail, which it decided it wasn't going to do, so I had to do some f-ed up bushwacking to find that talus gully. After that, i was home-free and figured I'd just wait out any other climbing until someone got there...
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dirtineye
Trad climber
the south
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Aug 19, 2006 - 08:45am PT
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I know Bachar loves to talk about free soloing, cause he told me so.
I really don't like to talk about it, cause I can't see the purpose, although, John explained his reasons for discussing FS pretty well, and I can't fault him in any way.
I get really tired of people who have not done any FS or people who only FS wired routes way below their level pontificating on the subject. (Not talking about you Bob, I'm talking about the LEBs of FS) I get equally tired of people saying, "I'd never FS anything, that's nuts.".
Too many people I have heard discussing FS use it as a way to prove something, or as a coup to wave in front of others to impress them. UGH.
OK, so with all that as the grounding, the alure of FS for me is the onsight adventure FS, done when the damned rock just pulls you up, as if you have no choice in the matter. This can happen in trail shoes, at a moment's notice, with no preparation or forethought at all.
I hate that, but I used to do it a lot.
My best scary story is only scary cause I was stubborn and stupid. I could have reversed at any time, but I didn't.
Anyway, there I was, alone, high enough to die, not quite lost, on a bit of rock that had never been touched, facing one last stupid move, that if it had been clean, or if I had had climbing shoes, or if I'd had a rope, would have been trivial. So I'm standing on this ledge, thinking, hmmm, A fall here is really bad, I won't get over it. But I wanted to go up. So with my hands I picked and rubbed and got the highstep a little cleaner, and did a little finger digging on the one small edge that was my potential handhold, looked down again, guessed at how many times I would bounce if I came off, put my foot up over my waist and began to highstep.
And then I started to slip.
And I thought," This is not good.", and carefully lowered back to the ledge.
At times like these I like to have a little think and re-evaluate the situation. The move is not hard. If I had climbing shoes it woudl be dead simple. At least the trail shoes have vibram soles, and I've climbed stuff like this in em before. The fall is really bad. I can do this move if I clean a little more. So I spend a while scrubbing with my fingers and trying to get the dampness and the dirt off the handhold and the loose lichen off the foothold.
And on the next try, it works and I'm up to easy stuff and out, and I wander around til I find my pals who had taken the normal way up, and I sit down and talk to one of em who knows all about this "Oh Sh!t moment" sort of thing and then it catches up with me and I feel pretty damned stupid and I swear to myself I'll quit doing this crap.
But I know I'll do it again, as soon as some chunk of rock makes me.
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Maysho
climber
Truckee, CA
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Topic Author's Reply - Aug 19, 2006 - 10:10am PT
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Great stories folks!
1980 I was 18, livin in El Portal, and soloing was the thing. Bachar was our buddy and set the bar high. Most of us stayed in the solid jammin 5.10 range, Gripper, Anathema, Reeds Direct, Cookie right then down Cookie left, and just admired what John had done, (Nabisco, New D, etc.) Once, 5 of us did Reeds (Werner, Cashner, JB, Kauk) with all on the second pitch at the same time. One week I did Five and Dime, then went down to the Bay to work a few days. I found myself up on Mt. Diablo at Rock City with a friend. I had never climbed there before, but my confidence was high from my recent circuits in the Valley. So I start up the classic diagonal crack, 5.9+ of 5.10-, onsight, but the jams look good and I figure I can downclimb if needed, and hey this is just a practice crag, and I am a young Valley hardboy and all. So, there is a bulge, the jams become sandy little pockets, I pull through, but have the definite feeling that I am not wanting to reverse those moves. I am standing on a little sloper, and see that the crack fades away and the crux is pure face, Now I make it a point to try to make my solos solo. I do not like to pass parties or do it with others around. So, around the corner comes a troup of boy scouts, "Oh my god, that guy does not have a rope" "Thats really stupid!", chimes the scoutmaster, then lets them all sit down and watch this bad example. I pucker up, really wanting to be somewhere else. Fear, the taste of stale adrenaline, legs shaking a bit. I force myself to calm. "You do not fall on 5.10 face when you have a rope and pro!" I tell myself a few times. I get it under control, barely, and make the moves. On top, shaking, feeling like puking, I duck into the woods to find a stick to scrape my underwear, and vow to stick to granite cracks I know so well.
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'Pass the Pitons' Pete
Big Wall climber
like Oakville, Ontario, Canada, eh?
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Aug 19, 2006 - 11:34am PT
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Dang! Your stories have my hands so sweaty I'm reaching for my chalkbag! [oh yeah, I don't own one]
I'm afraid I quit free soloing long before I started doing anything hard. As for big wall soloing, ah, that's a different discipline, and yeah, got plenty of scary stories there, even with a rope!
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WBraun
climber
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Aug 19, 2006 - 12:12pm PT
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One of the scariest free solo stories I've ever heard was from Bachar when he was in Frankenjura, Germany. He related how he was watching some guy there free soloing some super hard route that was very sequential at the crux which was not reversable if you blew the squence. The fall was a sure cinderbox quality.
John said the guy climbed up to the the crux superbly only to blow the sequence at the crux. The guy can now not only not reverse his moves nor could he continue on up. A sure fall to the deck.
In Frankenjura there are some of those big rings for protection and the guy dynos for the thing and lives to see another day.
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marty(r)
climber
beneath the valley of ultravegans
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Aug 19, 2006 - 02:41pm PT
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Peter,
Great topic and timing. I've posted this here before, but my closest call with taking "The Big Ride" was an onsight solo of the North Arete of Mt. Goode. I got off-route and into a nasty chimney where the sidewalls were exfoliating and the chockstone I was trying to jam up and over was filled with moss. It was the only time that day--or in any solo--where the terrible loop of song lyrics that was plaguing me stopped. I think I had Elvis Costello in my head at the time. "We talk about the future cuz we put the past away..." was the one that went over and over and over that summer. Anyhow, I VERY carefully reversed my moves only to end up on a dingy face where I pulled off several saucer size flakes. Again, the chicken eye was closed TIGHT! I finally found the right crack--a perfect hands horizontal line that led left around a blind corner--and back onto the real route. The rest of the morning I was in that glow of having gotten away with something. When Largo said he went "scouting for turtles, making garlands out of wildflowers, relishing the skyscape...all those things a person does on borrowed time" he meant it. The rest of the climb was pure joy, pure movement. No thought of difficulty, grade, or the mess of sweat, sunscreen and chalk that I'd have made on the talus below had I blown it. That day has become my energy index of what the mountains should give you.
I'll just put in a plug here for Twight's "Kiss or Kill" and Long's anthology "High Lonesome." Rad stuff there.
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flamer
Trad climber
denver
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Aug 19, 2006 - 02:54pm PT
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This must have been winter of 1998..or was it 97?? Anyway...
i had the day off work and was desperate to climb SOMETHING...but alsa no artners to be had. No problem I'll just do my all time favorite solo..the east face of the 3rd flatiron. When I got to boulder the 3rd was out of the question due to snow and ice on the face, however the first was looking much better...slightly different angle to the sun perhaps? On the way up the face it's self everything was as to be expected for an early winter solo...some water herte and there but NBD really. When I gaied the ridge to the summit however things changed. The last 3-4 pitch follow the ridgeline, alot of which has a different aspect than the face...and there was alot of snow and ice. But now being most of the way up the climb and not wanting to attempt the down climb I pressed on...it wasn't too bad but defiantly heads up.
As I pulled over the last little "bulge" in the ridge I saw what awaited me on the summit 'block"...the side that you climb on is tilted to the north and shady....and had 4 foot ise cycicle's and lot's of snow...it's 5.5 but with the S&I additions it was going to be tough.
I sat down in the saddle for awhile and debated my options.
I choose to scramble down a gully on the east face to reach a large tree with Rap slings. From there i rapped as far as my 50M-9MM rope would take me...then i had a look around. I knew there were a numbe rof roof systems in the area and didn't want to down climb above one only to be "roofed out".
i found what appeared to be the path of least resisitance..wedged myself into alittle chimney and pulled the rope.
I started down climbing what ended up being a very wet slab...dot to dry dot style for 200+ft....it was pretty damn exciting but I managed to keep my head together and pulled it off.
I was quite happy to be on the ground and had a good could'a, should'a, won't do it again thinking session.
When I think about it now I feel like it was a very defining day for me....but I wouldn't really reccommend it!
josh
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Chicken Skinner
Trad climber
Yosemite
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Aug 19, 2006 - 08:00pm PT
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I have never been much of a soloer though I have done some. When Bosque and I were doing a route on Liberty Cap in the late winter I carried a load by myself up the Mist Trail after a particulary cold evening. I was too lazy to go up the John Muir variation and figured how bad could it be. So I walked around the gate in my tennis shoes and continued on. It got icier and icier as I went and suddenly realized I could not retreat without leaving my haulbag which would have been the smart thing to do. I kept going to the point where retreat was impossible and found myself on my hands and knees, clawing with my finger nails for the last half of the stairs with heavy mist from the falls pelting me. Had to have been 3-4 inches of solid ice covering the steps. The steps were not level due to the mist pouring down them and then freezing up during the evening. Definately, the most scared I have been on Class 1. What an idiot I was. Needless to say I descended down the Muir trail, after dropping the load off at the base of Liberty Cap. No wonder NPS closes that trail during the winter.
Ken
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Ultrabiker
Ice climber
Eastside
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Aug 19, 2006 - 08:24pm PT
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I was all alone "Aid Soloing", up on P2 of "Days of No Future" and then, damn, another party showed up at the base of the route with FIVE "Pigs". Luckily for me, they thought that it was P-Son. Off they went to P-Son and I remained in my peaceful little world.
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Kristoffer
Big Wall climber
Blue Jay, California
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Aug 19, 2006 - 09:49pm PT
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i almost died soloing Mt Wilson via the Aeolian wall route in red rocks march of this year... it was straight forward and fairly easy aid and some good chimneys /offwidths, but i got hit by a surprise storm at night that dropped about 3-4 inches of snow on the deck and god knows exactly how much up on the top/side of mt wilson but to make a long storie short when i woke up i was completely covered in ice and snow that had avalanched off of the summit into the chimney system i was biving in... damn was i ever wet and cold! I ended spending about 4 hours tring to kick the ice and snow out of the entrance to the chimney i was in and breaking the ice off of my ropes, ascenders and other various gear... by the time i was done i had kicked so much and so hard the the toe of my right shoe had completely busted out and my toes were hanging out! I finaly was able to bailed out of that icy bivi leaving everything behind besides my ascenders, ropes and harness. i tried to pull my sleeping bag out of the ice but it was so solidly frozen in that i just ripped the section i was pulling on right off!
I spent about half of an hour trying to tied my two ropes together but my hands were so numb that I had a vary hard time doing anything with them but finaly I succeeded and then i built a shitty anchor and rapped my ass to the end of my ropes where i built another supper scary anchor in soaking wet sand stone, and as most of you monkeys know sand stone looses 2/3 of its strength when wet and it wasn’t just wet, there was a damn torrent of water running down and over my anchor! scared shitless and well into a hypothermic state i tested those mank peaces a few times and then said f*#k it, if i don’t commit to this anchor im going to freeze to death up here and if the anchor blows im going to plunge to my death, what the hell...
when i finally committed 100 % of my weight to that anchor and pull my rope out of the other anchor so i could tie it to this anchor and get the f*#k off of this miserable wall!!
The entire time I was rapelling down that rope all I could imagen was those few nuts and small cams blowing out of that soaked sand stone and sendinf me for gravitys non-stop ride to the sharp rocks below.. comforting at the least.
so now here i am, chilling at the base of mt Wilson with absolutely no bivi gear or any other equipment besides the few cans of food i had stashed behind some shrubs and im wet and cold as heck, so i built a raging fire on BLM land and made an illegal camp..but I didn’t care, sh#t if I had gotten arrested for it I would have atleast had some where worm o sleep...
the worst part of this ordeal was the fact that i had no sleeping bag and i was stranded out in the middle of the desert! Survival mode kicked in and i went around gathering brush to make a make-shit pad to sleep on so he frigid soil wouldn’t drain me of the little heat that was left in my body. but sh#t, i still froze my ass of that night and the next 5 nights to come until red rocksrondevuze rolled around and then i met up with the monkies who had a sleeping bag i could barrow, ample bear, smoke, plenty of motivation and another rope i could use to re-solo the top half of the route so i could get my wall rack and sleeping bag back….
now that i look back on this event, i realize that im lucky to still be around, but f*#k it! i would do again in a heart beat, becase what dosent kill you sure makes you stronger!
Even know I had numb feet and hands for the next month and I lost a total of 6 toe nails from frost bight it was a damn good time high up on the stone…
the monkeys always send!
Zephyr.
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ha-ha
climber
location
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Aug 19, 2006 - 10:27pm PT
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golsen's stories about Bushwack Crack got me thinking about the time I soloed the whole route. I'd soloed the first pitch many times, either downclimbing it or climbing over and finishing up on Schoolroom.
One day I went up to solo it and there was this other guy who ran up from the parking lot in nothing but some really short running shorts, a pair of Fires and some tube socks, the requisite late 70's summer uniform. He had seen me soloing and asked if I'd done all pitches of Bushwack. I hadn't even done it roped up but he assured me it was No Big Deal™ and he lead the way.
We floated up the first pitch and he continued up the flared 5.7 liebacking. I started up, enjoyably enough and found myself following the crack as it arced right until it petered out into a little one inch foot ledge. I proptly stood up on it. It would've been pretty scary reversing that move.
Well, now we had a short slab above my little foot ledge. The other guy had stopped at another bigger ledge above the slab pointing out the sole crystal I had to stand on to get to another slab move from which I could grab his little ledge and we could walk off.
Now, I'm not the best slab climber. I feel right at home in a handcrack but slabs are a whole nother channel. I took a few deep breaths and got ready to step up on the crystal.
I placed my toe on the crystal and moved my other foot onto a smear and palmed my hands up onto nothing. Yikes. I moved back down to the foot ledge. Take a deeeeep breath.
"You can do it, it's not that bad," he said.
Foot back on the crystal, stand up. Uhh, smear the right. Okay now, stick to the rock Mr. Right Foot. Take foot off crystal and smear it like a dirty politician.
"Yer okay..."
Standing up...okay were still stickin'...must be about two hundred and fifty feet or so to the deck...pretty grippy rock...palm down...push up and...grab...the...ledge.
Got it.
Just another day in Little.
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john hansen
climber
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Aug 20, 2006 - 12:12am PT
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It wasn't supposed to be a solo. It was a supposed to be a well protected first acsent, but there just wern't no pro to be found, I got a couple stoppers in at 15 and 25 feet , just enough to lure me in .So I find myself eighty feet up with the last 8 feet rounding off to the top. It was just like Ha Ha's story just above ,, sketchy face over a final bulge.
I fiddled around for half an hour trying to get something in
to stop me from decking..a tiny wedge,, a 1 inch hex stuck about half way into a pocket, and another 3/4 hex stuck between two small horns like your thumb and finger in an 'OK 'sign . I dont think any of them would have even held body wieght let alone a fall. Three moves to the top ,with no jugs or bomber hold to shoot for the last bit, almost smearing,, Yikes.
I made it, and brought up the brothers.
Went back there a few years ago and Rocco Spina and friends had bolted all the walls around there into submmision,, including 5 or 6 on my route, Even with the bolts its rated the dreaded 5.9 + in Carville's guide. I still get shivers when I think about those last few moves...
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Pierre
Big Wall climber
Sweden
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Aug 20, 2006 - 07:22am PT
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I really thougt that I had the East buttress of middle wired, until I decided to freesolo it...
I used two quickdraws at the boltladder though, one in each hand and just clipped them bolts, smooth as ever, but it was after that I ran into some serious problems! I just couldn't do that little roof thing... I tried and tried, but felt very insecure, then I just went for it with legs spinning and hands clawing. I think I sat down at the next little belay totally dazed for an hour or so, finishing the route was no pleasure - way to tense...
My absolute favourite solo is Nutcracker, probably done it atleast 50 times - anyone know the best time up Nutcracker? My personal best is 10 minutes via the 5.9 straight in finger/hand crack. I've had some close calls on that one aswell...
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mooser
Trad climber
seattle
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Aug 20, 2006 - 09:15am PT
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My scariest free solo experiences were in Czech Republic--with a rope, and a belay.
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Ultrabiker
Ice climber
Eastside
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Aug 20, 2006 - 09:57am PT
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Late May 94' saw me waiting for my partner below Keeler to do the Harding. I had two days to blow. Looked up at the suedo couloir between Day and Third Needle. Hmmmm, looks doable. Started out the following morning at 0300 with headlamp, Ice tools and pons on. Figured that if I got to the top rockband above the neve/ice, I wouldn't get nailed by the "Bombs" that let loose as the morning Sun hit the wall's. Uh Uh! Got stuck two thirds of the way up the neve below the VW Bug size chockstone that damned the couloir, and here came the Sun. Reached the main "Giant" chockstone just as the UV rays of neve melting radiance peeped over the Whites. I heard rockfall starting around and above me."I am so toast" I said to myself. No rope. Just my tools and pons. I looked for dry-tooling potential on the chockstone. Saw a small crack that would take my right tool and a series of spitter's on the main wall to my left. Put my right tool into the chockstone and my sphincter instantly went prrrrrrgh when the stone creaked and moved! "I'm not toast, I am soooo f*cking dead!" I murmured. Took a deep breath and said "F*ck it!". Got to do what I gotta do regardless. Can't go down. So, I weighted the stone and pulled. Got up far enough to get a purchase on the left wall. The stone moved and began to slip down and towards me. Ugggggggh! High stepped my left front points onto the left wall and then up and over the stone. "Holy Shet! I am still alive!" The stone stayed in place and I mantled it. Pheeeeew! "Thanks Norman Clyde for watching over me dude!". Looked down and saw the rockfall bombing all around down below. Gathered my wits and finished the gully with a wet spot in my britches. Just below the outlet of the couloir I stopped and took the pic below. Just wasn't my day to die I guess!
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snakefoot
climber
cali
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Aug 20, 2006 - 10:36am PT
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one day, went up and did the commitment, sellaginella and via aqua(onsight) trio.....on via aqua, the falls were ragin and I thought that damn flake on the crux was gonna blow, vowed to never do it again...kissed the hand rail at the top...
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Chicken Skinner
Trad climber
Yosemite
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Aug 20, 2006 - 12:45pm PT
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Went soloing with Walt one day and he convinced me to do a thin 5.9 face climb that I had never done before. He went first to show me the moves so it was not truly onsite. I got crossed up in the middle of the crux and was stuck and started shaking. Walt told me to grab his foot and pull through it. I told him to move and that I was not going to pull him off too if I fell. I was able to finally step back down and got the correct sequence and finally made it. What a guy Walt was, a true friend.
Ken
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bringmedeath
climber
la la land
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Aug 20, 2006 - 01:57pm PT
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Walt told me to grab his foot and pull through it. I told him to move and that I was not going to pull him off too if I fell.
That is gnarly!!!
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can't say
Social climber
Pasadena CA
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Aug 20, 2006 - 02:57pm PT
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Hi Peter, while that solo of yours sounds hairball, care to recount your episode on the first pitch of Reed's Direct many years ago. While technically not a solo since you were tied into a rope, but if memory serves me well, there wasn't a lot of pro between you and the deck?
Care to give us your first person account of that very scary misadventure?
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deuce4
Big Wall climber
the Southwest
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Aug 20, 2006 - 03:30pm PT
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Blazing Buckets, Yosemite: a new pitch above Reed's Direct.
Hanging out at the post office, beginning a new "three-day plan" day of bouldering and touring the valley on my fat tire single speed cruiser, Werner walks by and says, "Hey man, want to go do Energy Crisis?"
I knew the drill. We would hike down to the beautiful location from the parking area on Hwy 140, Werner would lead the ferocious 5.11d with a couple pieces of gear, set up a top rope, and then we would then do multiple laps until our lats were useless.
"Sure," I replied. It sounded like a great plan for the day. I jumped into Werner's crimson LeMan's, and we were off.
At the junction of 140/120, Werner takes a right up the hill. Uh-oh, I thought, he's going for a warm-up solo on Reed's direct, a route I had soloed with him many times before. Today, I didn't trust myself, considering my increasingly blurry condition due to the enhancements I had partaken in earlier.
"Well, I'll just sit in the car today," I thought to myself.
But of course when Werner grabbed his shoes and headed up to the base of Reed's, I couldn't sit still, so I did the same and followed him up.
Werner was half way up the second pitch when I got to the base. Tying my shoes on hurriedly, I followed him up. The jams seemed remarkably wobbly that day (and completely out of focus), and I overjammed to the hilt. By the time I got to the small ledge, just below the final wide section of the route, I was pretty much spent. After climbing up and down the first moves off the small ledge several times, Werner wordlessly offered me his foot as an emergency anchor in case I needed it, then I committed to the final moves.
Soon I was on the big ledge at the top of Reed's Direct, wretching from the effort, Werner off the the side, not commenting, but I felt his support. He began to boulder around on the ledge, and suddenly I jumped up and began doing the same.
Somehow, the next thing I knew, I found myself committed to the upper wall, about 15-20 feet above the ledge, holding on to some big rotten chickenheads. After a lame attempt at downclimbing the initial hard moves, I became concerned that if I fell at that point, I would bounce off the ledge and go for a 200 whipper to the deck.
Suddenly it all became clear--a line of holds into the final pitch of Reed's Left way off to the left. There's my escape, I thought. I made a few more moves to a giant chickenhead with a big quarter-inch rim that made for a great double handhold. The next chickenhead was way off to the left. My feet were on smears. I lunged with my left hand, and just as my left hand grabbed the next chickenhead (a not too good jug), the right chickenhead broke off. I swung around on my left hand, feet kicking. Below was a big slab leaning up against the ledge which for certain I would have skated off for the 200 foot plunge. Somehow I regained balance, got both hands on the small chickenhead, found some smears for my feet, and mantled onto the hold. Finally stable, I looked down, where Werner was shaking his heads slowly, looking a little annoyed that he just almost witnessed his friend splatting before his eyes.
The rest of the route was easy. I made it to the Reed's left chimney, downclimbed, and without saying a word to eachother (except for maybe a few "ho-mans!") Werner and I began our downclimb descent down Reed's Right.
I had a much better time doing laps on Energy Crisis later that day.
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deuce4
Big Wall climber
the Southwest
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Aug 20, 2006 - 03:36pm PT
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I remember onsight soloing Igor Unchained in the Needles with Bachar one day. THAT was kind of scary. I thought it was pretty underrated at 5.9+.
Following Johhny B up the Dike route in Toulumne was super fun, too. Then we cruised around the back side and found all sorts of cool bouldering.
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WBraun
climber
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Aug 20, 2006 - 08:09pm PT
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Hahaha
Boy we sure had a lot of fun in those days, John. He he he.
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Tarbuster
climber
right here, right now
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Aug 20, 2006 - 08:14pm PT
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Dang John M Deuce Mama!
that's a boot kickin' story bro...
whuta great thread, so many reel deals.
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Tarbuster
climber
right here, right now
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Aug 20, 2006 - 08:19pm PT
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Dang James,
Your story is like the Flying Dutchman, that ghost pirate ship.
I've now seen it twice.
If you were looking for critique and I know you are not,
I liked the first version better.
Less "worked".
Tighter more soulfull punch line.
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Russ Walling
Social climber
Out on the sand, Man.....
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Aug 20, 2006 - 08:20pm PT
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A few come to mind:
Back in the day, there used to be this train of people soloing the Left Ski Track at Josh.... every morning the train would roll out and there would be like maybe 6 or up to 9 people on the thing at a time.
So it is now time for me to join the train. I'd done the route like maybe twice before, have never led it, and was never really that solid on it... so the train takes off and of course everyone is ahead of me because I'm sketch.... Bachar is up there, Cashner, Lechlinski... Gilje, maybe a couple of others... Lechlinski is my personal coach and sometime rope gun so he is waiting for me with beta just above the crux......
I get up on the thing with a steady stream of beta from above... of course I blow it and vibrate off from the fin.... I land cat like in the talus (ode to John Gill).... Lechlinski is razzing me pretty good and tells me I almost had it...
I shake out and head back up again.... I do the big reach off the fin and start to xylophone my left hand up toward what we called the "chip", a miserable sloper that can be liebacked, but not pulled on directly...
I have the chip and just as I drop into the layback my low foot does the famous PA skate routine... I pitched again, kinda sideways this time and deck pretty hard... not really as cat like as before.....
Lechlinski is sure I can do it now and offers up much encouragement.... I go back up and shake through the entire crux section as Lechlinski cheers me on... finally into the hand crack I can sorta rest and contiue to the top without incident.
So I guess I got it third try.... I don't think I ever fell again on that damn thing... must have done it 300 times since then.
I was off the sofa and hadn't climbed in probably a year... so Charles Cole and I go to solo Walk On The Wild Side....
He sends me up first... I don't even know where the route goes.. so I'm soloing away in my Levi Jacket... which was kinda tight so I could not put my arms up fully over my head... minor problem / annoyance..... anyway, he is doing his thing below me and I end up off route to the left... super sketch grains and kinda steep....
He finally looks up and freaks as I'm stinkbuggin and looking like I'm going to pitch off any second.... Oh and the wind is howling too....
So he loops his arm through some anchor slings about 2 pitches up and says "I'll spot ya"... I'm like 25ft above him!!!! I look at the fall, the angle of the rock, the size of Charles, and decide this is a pretty good bet... I do the moves all wiggly style with the exaggerated stinkbuging that the Levi jacket is forcing onto me....
Don't think I climbed again for another year.....
Largo is persuasive... he took a string of us young fools over to the WaterChute in Josh... "ho man... it's a trick move... you guys can do this..."
Maybe we can... never done it before, but with Largo running the show we all think we can climb about 4 grades harder on the solo than we can lead... Largo goes first, and just shimmies up the thing...
I go next and find it pretty damn hard.... at one point I'm slipping down the thing faster than I am going up... Largo is just above me giving pointers, but will not offer down a leg.... I stop my slide and manage to get the thing...
It did not go so well for the other Sheep Buggers below me.... one guy is flailing wildly just after the start and finally flames out and slides to the ground....
The next victim gets well up into the slot where the real business starts (save for the opening move).... he is laboring pretty hard and I'm trying to keep well out of his desparate grasps for my leg.... we both watch as the dude pops out of the narrows, hits the starting ramp about 15ft below and does a full flip onto the desert floor and rolls away into the bushes...
Largo says something like, "Ho man... Anyone that does a Jack-in-the-Box launch that grand is usually done for the day..." He tells me we should keep going though... we do and top out.
The guy who took the winger is already using valuable beer ice on his ankle when we get back to the cars....
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Tarbuster
climber
right here, right now
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Aug 20, 2006 - 08:36pm PT
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nice russ,
how comes yer always so darn tootin' serious.
t-try some humor for a change eh sport?
plus, member when we useta fritter away the whole day at our proud pad in cholla ville, then fill our back pockits with beers, each guy then jumpin'in his own car (buckit), and hightail it to the solo fields out in josh land?
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Mimi
Trad climber
Seattle
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Aug 20, 2006 - 08:37pm PT
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That's priceless stuff Mussy.
Weren't you a Sheep Bugger early on?
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Russ Walling
Social climber
Out on the sand, Man.....
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Aug 20, 2006 - 08:39pm PT
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Naw... that was Craig Fry and crew. I hardly knew any of them. Tardy might have been one.. and Sewell.
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Tarbuster
climber
right here, right now
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Aug 20, 2006 - 08:40pm PT
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He was their leader Mimi.
"But Ya Know, if'n yer gonna lead, ya gotta have a place to go..."
Werd.
(mickey rourke, "rumble fish")
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Tarbuster
climber
right here, right now
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Aug 20, 2006 - 08:44pm PT
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plus nevermind this netsketch superfun hoodoo.
ima' go do my fave V0 lowball, right now.
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Mimi
Trad climber
Seattle
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Aug 20, 2006 - 08:47pm PT
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What a coincidence, I just did mine.
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Tarbuster
climber
right here, right now
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Aug 20, 2006 - 08:50pm PT
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yup.
firein' up the beemer rat now.
swank shag carpit', a nice steady ska brewin co steel toe milk stout buz and i'm off.
er, up.
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Jaybro
Social climber
The West
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Aug 20, 2006 - 09:42pm PT
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Too many to sort out right now, though a few stand out.
Once In the middle of a multi-day, no-partner Josh solo binge, I found myself onsight soloing Sail Away, with people at the base. I got to the crux and it seemed thin and sketchy and thin and I wished I was somewhere else. I backed off the move and stepped back and got more pumped,, about three times. Finally, I went for the move (EB's) got it and breathed a sigh of relief.
Back at the base one of the witness' said. "I thought you were going to fall and die. I decided if you did, I would throw up, walk away, and quit climbing."
A few years earlier, my first trip to Josh, we wandered around with one of the older guidebooks (the red one?) and I was compelled by that photo of Dick Webster, RIP, on waterchute. I reached up and found it to be slippery and weird. Then I rationalized that it was "only 5.9," and 'I Knew, I was a Stud,™' (I was maybe 22 and knew it all) . So I pulled the move and soloed the climb. At the top, I let out a signature roadrunner call, wondering where my buddy, who should have been right behind me was.
"Man, I think your friend broke his ankle," said some blonde California dude lurking on the summit.
Turned out it was only sprained, his onsight solo having been less succesful. In any case it was a long drive back to Laramie highlighted by;
1) a stop at Granite Mtn where I onsight soloed Magnolia Thunder Pussy. Said Partner, Al Robinson*, a 'god among men™'did the approach on crutches, just to be nice.
2) The naked lady in the Van in Raton(?)
3) the almost total explosion of the engine in my '73 superbeetle
about Colorado Springs, and the ensuing, 20hr, 2 cyl, 200 mile drive home.
"Three day plan"-hehe
*below, Al Robinson present whereabouts, unknown.
I would pay money to know where he is now.
Photo may have been day one of three.
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marty(r)
climber
beneath the valley of ultravegans
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Aug 20, 2006 - 10:24pm PT
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There needs to be a whole "three day plan" thread. REALLY!
Continue.
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deuce4
Big Wall climber
the Southwest
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Aug 20, 2006 - 11:27pm PT
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A few more rambling solo memories:
I used to enjoy riding my bike down the hill from Tuolumne rescue site, soloing routes on the way down to the Tenaya Lake where lots of friends would be hanging out on the beach windsurfing and what-not, and where I could probably get a ride with my bike back to camp. A regular routine would be West Crack on Daff Dome, the regular route on Fairview Dome, then a nice warm down on South Crack on Stately Pleasure Dome. One day, I decided to solo the route to the right of South Crack (I forgot the name). I had never done it before, but it was rated 5.9, how hard could it be? I got above the inital crux (a corner/crack) then was faced with a 10' section traversing straight left from above the corner. It was one of those handhold-less sections, with nothing but smears. Super insecure. Didn't look good. I was up there probably about an hour getting the gumption to go for that section. I tried retreating back down the corner a few times too, but it was too tricky to downclimb securely (I must have forgotten Jim Erikson's wise words to be absolutely certain that your downclimbing skills are up to the task when soloing). It finally went okay, but there were high levels of fear on that one. Too high. I think I lightened up on soloing for a while after that one.
Hey, anyone here want to retell the Crashner stories (Spiderline and on the Golf Wall area)? He was the master of recovery from the big falls--incredible! I remember coming to California for the first time in 1980, meeting Fish and Mike Frericks (sp?) in Joshua Tree, where moments after arriving to Hidden Valley, Fish (who I had never met before, or even knew his name, or he mine) invited me up to the base of Spiderline to see Rick's brain matter on the rocks. I didn't go see it with the ensuing crowd that made their way up there, but the story made an impression on me. (instead, Mike took me up for my first Josh solo of Mike's Books--actually my first solo ever:
Mike: "hey, you a climber?"
Me: "yeah"
Mike: "You like soloing?"
Me: "sure!" (never having ever soloed anything before)
Mike: "Let's go!" And we did.
And I really did like it.)
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curlie
Trad climber
SLO, CA
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Aug 21, 2006 - 04:03pm PT
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This is too good of a thread to be relegated to the second page so early. So I'll bump with a not-too-gnarly the first-and-only-thing-I've-ever-soloed story.
My buddy Ryan and I were following the Waugh/Bolton/Sampson train up Conness. It was the last day Ryan and I were in the Meadows and we had made a career of bailing off of sh#t that year. We had the beta on North Ridge, knew that there were 2 often-rapped sections of 5.6 and that the rest was maybe 5.4. I also knew that the intrepid Mrs. Waugh had soloed up the face after the raps the previous year (and down-soloed a quite interesting snow-filled gully using rocks as ice-axes, but that's another story), and while she is certainly one tough chick, I knew I could technically climb harder. So we brought a short rope, harnesses, and a couple of slings just for the raps.
We followed the train up to North Peak first, and I was pretty excited because it was my first real peak and first summit register. Then we went down the ridge to the notch, and started up the North Ridge of Conness. At some point, Ryan and I stopped to put on climbing shoes. The train was taking off ahead. We got to the first "rap" and Ryan headed down a few moves first to check it out. It wasn't that hard and we both downclimbed big holds with no problem. The second "rap" looked a bit more exposed and sketchy. But Ryan climbed down with the rope still in his pack, and I thought "If he can do it..." But this one was a chimney and I hate chimneys. I know that everyone says you can't fall out of a chimney, but I always _feel_ like I'm gonna fall out of chimneys. So predictably, halfway down, I was feeling like I was gonna fall out and I was in a pretty exposed spot, I would undoubtedly bounce off the slabs below, fall thousands of feet to my death, and that this was a Bad Idea. Then I got stuck. No really, I was wedged in the chimney. And I started to laugh, because at this point, I couldn't fall out of the damned chimney if I _tried_. So I relaxed, skittered down the rest of it, and soloed the rest of the beautiful 5.4ish face up Conness without fear.
In fact, there was a party below and off to the side who were for some strange reason rapping off the westish side. They got their rope stuck, and just as I got to it to free it, they managed to pull it down. They then asked, "Does it go?" And I was like, "Huh? You mean to the top?" "Yes," they said. I said, "Um, yeah, I think you're almost there, maybe 100 more feet." I left them there, in the middle of easy 5th class terrain, and I'm not sure who was more confused. Ryan and I caught up with the train on the top, my second peak of the day and ever thus far. It was very cool and we had an uneventful hike down the normal trail (no snow slopes or rock ice-axes) and caught the last boat back across the lake. That day was so good, we just packed up and left the Meadows that night. It just couldn't get any better.
Oh, and my first day of school solo story (since no one else has posted one). I don't really remember the day, but Mom told me about it years later:
First day of school, third grade. I lived on a small island and for the first time, was going to the bigger island next door for school. It was a 20-minute boat ride and a 25-minute bus ride away. I'd only been over to the school once, and never by myself. Mom hugged me goodbye and put on a brave face at the beginning of the dock. I evidently marched right down the dock and straight onto the boat without one look back, while she was crying the whole time!
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burp
Trad climber
Salt Lake City
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Aug 21, 2006 - 04:32pm PT
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golsen wrote:
"When I topped out I sat down in the warm sun and shook for about 10 minutes. During the climb I had not even thought about coming off except near the top. I think all of that pent up adrenalin had its way with me. At that time in my climbing career my best on-site was about 11a/b. To me the climb seemed like 5.9. It was later bolted by a party that had no knowledge of my ascent. It is rated 10c. Today, it is easy for me to realize the folly and risks I took soloing a new route that was so close to my limit. But today is also a time where more and more folks learn to climb in gyms, a sterile environment that does not breed the kind of adventure that was so evident prior to sport climbing."
Remember in '87 when I first went up Ferguson ... did Goldfingers and was blown away by your solos to the right and left. Goldfingers was insecure enough hanging around trying to get the right pro in. Plus, onsight solo? I would hate trying to reverse any of those moves you did if trouble presented itself.
Been to Ferguson lately? Everything has been retro-bolted!!! It's a zoo up there. The '80s were certainly a wonderful time in the wasatch.
burp
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SammyLee
Trad climber
Memphis
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Aug 21, 2006 - 06:07pm PT
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About 1977 me and the first wife were in the Smoky Mountains driving along. I'd never climbed rock in my life. I look over and see this "cliff" face and decide I should climb it. It's really just the side of the mountain they've cut away for the road. Choss as crap, but I didn't know choss from cheese at the time. I pull off the side of the road and hop out with my jeans and sneakers, ready to go.
The first few moves were pretty easy and up I go. This "cliff" is maybe 50 or 60 feet bottom to top. About half way up I realize that I am in trouble. The climbing has gotten hard and I don't think I can climb back down. Up is the only way to go, or start crying like a babe for momma's help. I started shaking and feeling weak but decide to go for it. I reach up to a chunk of rock above my head and start to pull. It comes off and damn near takes my head and shoulders with it. I'm pretty sure I stained my undies at this point.
Somehow, the old tree climbing instinct comes into play and I look down to see where I can put my feet to get up some and find a nice little ledge/edge kinda thing and step up. From 6 inches higher, more is possible. (six inches makes all the difference, right?) I manage to get to the dirty top out, trembling like a leaf. I staggered down the side, back to the car and my wife asked, "So, how was it?" She hadn't even watched me. I should have seen the writing on the wall then I guess.
That was the last time I tried rock climbing until last year. When I saw Devils Tower, I knew I had to revisit the urge. Glad I did. Just back from Yosemite and some great climbing. Trip report to be out soon.
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deuce4
Big Wall climber
the Southwest
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Aug 21, 2006 - 06:11pm PT
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My previous story wasn't the only time a single wobbly point of contact was the only thing between me and certain death.
Back east, on Mt. Washington, my friend Thom Englebach and I were progressively soloing all the ice gulleys in Huntington's Ravine. We started soloing them by accident. On our first trip, we were with some "experienced" ice climbers who were going to show us how it was done. They had all the gear and ropes. Well, on the approach, one of them tripped and stabbed himself with his ice tool. He wasn't hurt bad, but bad enough that he didn't want to go up any further. We requested the loan of the gear so Thom and I could continue, but it was no dice. So we went up without any gear and soloed Central Gully.
On the following winter weekends, we progressively soloed all the gulleys, until only one was left: Damnation Gulley, the 1000-foot steep runnel with a reportedly fearsome vertical section. We made it up to the steep part, where Thom saved my life by preventing a big slide triggered from another party from falling on me while I was in the midst of the crux. Later, near the top, Thom above me was yelling something, but I couldn't hear. He was trying to tell me that the winds were ferocious and that I should be careful.
As soon as I exited the narrow gulley and entered the final bowl as the route opened up, a huge blast of wind grabbed me and blew me sideways. All I had in was a single ice tool about 1/2" or so. Both crampons came out and the wind flapped me around for a while before I was able to replace my second tool and get my feet re-established. I was amazed that the pick of the tool held after all that wobbling (that was before I got to know my Guardian Angel intimately).
Then we had an all-nighter epic gettng down from that one too, ending up on the road about 10 miles from where we should have been in the ensuing white-out and storm. (Knocking on the nearest home at 4a.m. to call our friends that we were ok wasn't well received).
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golsen
Social climber
kennewick, wa
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Aug 21, 2006 - 08:05pm PT
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good stories guys.
burp, not much thought about downclimbing, that really would have scared me cuz I couldnt have. Hopefully no old routes had bolts added.
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Tarbuster
climber
right here, right now
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Aug 21, 2006 - 10:12pm PT
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Geez Deuce,
Yer a nice guy,
Glad you made it through that stuff.
I kinda forgot about those days, since you got all big wally and threw a nice shadow over the little things now coming back to light.
Kinda sketchmo even given your obvious competence, but good flavor nonetheless.
I think I recall the Stately Pleasure slab story first hand from you; maybe Dixie Peach!
Cheers!
I see Tom Englebach out here every now and then.
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deuce4
Big Wall climber
the Southwest
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Aug 22, 2006 - 12:37am PT
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Yes, I think it was Dixie Peach. A terrifying onsight. Especially when you're looking down and seeing all the lovely people hanging out and having fun on the beach below, oblivious of the epic struggle going on.
Say hi to Thom for me--now there's a man who wasn't afraid to stick his neck out in the old days (maybe still is).
Keep up the good work, Roy. Love your old pics (especially the gals!). Sorry for giving you the middle finger back in the old days when you took that picture that you posted some time back.
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WBraun
climber
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Aug 22, 2006 - 12:39am PT
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Now now Ducey
The middle finger always does the job.
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Tarbuster
climber
right here, right now
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Aug 22, 2006 - 12:44am PT
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Will do Deuce,
I wonder if his nickname made the charts,
Remember Thom = The Waste Mission
He's a pretty funny guy and wears the cheshire grin 24/7,
in all kinds of weather.
To this day, when I see him at parties here in Boulder, like clockwork and fairly loudly, he'll blurt out:
"Hey Libido Roy!"
Gets me every time, always turns heads and wrinkles eyebrows.
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Jaybro
Social climber
The West
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Aug 22, 2006 - 12:48am PT
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"Light, not Solid" -Thom?
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Tarbuster
climber
right here, right now
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Aug 22, 2006 - 12:51am PT
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Yes, he stands rather tall Jay.
He had that blue VW Bug with the kerazy checkered artwerk on it.
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Russ Walling
Social climber
Out on the sand, Man.....
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Aug 22, 2006 - 12:56am PT
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He had a bunch of army men in a mock battle and some f14 jets epoxied to his hood and roof too.... cops must think when they see this.... "He's holdin'...."
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john hansen
climber
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Aug 22, 2006 - 01:00am PT
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Some times scary solos have nothing to do with climbing,,,
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Tarbuster
climber
right here, right now
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Aug 22, 2006 - 01:13am PT
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he was holdin'
it
barely
tehgether,
'cidmaster...
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golsen
Social climber
kennewick, wa
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Aug 22, 2006 - 01:37am PT
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sammylee, I liked your story and fully intend on stealing this line, "didn't know choss from cheese "...haha
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eeyonkee
Trad climber
Golden, CO
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Aug 22, 2006 - 03:08pm PT
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c'mon bvb...where's that most stupid free solo. I'm on the edge of my seat!
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Maysho
climber
Truckee, CA
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Topic Author's Reply - Aug 22, 2006 - 03:40pm PT
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Ok, since it was requested upstream here goes with the close call on Reeds Direct.
I was not on the schedule to work, and I had pulled an all nighter in difficult discussion with my girlfriend. I went into YMS just to pick up my paycheck and chill with my best women buddy, KB (an unheralded hot stonemistress from the 70's). Brossman the Bossman, comes into the back room, "some folks want a guide today, your up, thats what Chief Guide means, you take the walk ins when you can!" So off I go and spend a nice day with some nice dudes, we do Keystone corner, Reeds Regular, Bongs away left, and they still have a bit of juice left, so I just run up the first pitch of Reeds Direct trailing the rope. When I am standing on the detached ledge I pull up the rope to tie a bowlin on a bight to the tree, while pulling the rope, with no cams to block it, the cord becomes stuck back in the flake. I turn back in to downclimb to free it, and bobble my balance on the ledge. I make a grab for the unfinished knot on the tree, grab the wrong side and fall backward off the ledge...I let out the loud death yell, plummeting to the ledges below, certain of my impending doom, when I am brought up short by the rope, just as my heel breaks on the small ledge early on the pitch. The rope jammed in the crack, my client had put his hand on the rope running on the ground allowing it to sink in deeper and stick. I am now so high on survivors adrenelin, I swing back to the crack, untie and solo down the lower section easily, back to my shaking clients. I had split my calcaneous into two pieces, which 22 years later can still bug me if I am teaching the snowplow, and the weather is changing.
I learned some valuable lessons that served me well over the next 20 years of guiding. One, do not try to get my climbing kicks while working, it can be bad enough pulling the bulge on top of RCA with rain splattering the stone. Second, guiding is never just a job. The trials of real life, may make it necessary to call in sick occasionally rather than put myself or my clients at risk.
Cool postscript. The client who probably saved me, dropped dead of a heart attack years later. Two years ago, I get a call from his son, he was passing through the park with his sons and was trying to convey to them the adventurous life of the grand father they barely knew. I took the kids up Aqua Knobby, had a great time, and conveyed my respect for their granddad who saved me!
Peter
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Jaybro
Social climber
The West
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Aug 22, 2006 - 08:23pm PT
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Well, you brought me to tears, Peter. Maybe a memorable guiding days thread is in order?
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pyro
Social climber
I'm not telling,
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Aug 23, 2006 - 01:24am PT
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Curlie! how cool! you laughed when you got stuck!!!
Soo, You didn't look back to see your mom. must feel special for you to see Bob K climbing on that same island?
you were his special! Keep the RFEng job and climb when you want to waste time. luvya!
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john hansen
climber
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Aug 23, 2006 - 01:38am PT
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Jay bro,, I posted a new thread on 'best and worst guiding' hope im not over stepping ,, sounds like great stories.
Aloha
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curlie
Trad climber
SLO, CA
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Aug 23, 2006 - 01:45am PT
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Hey Pyro, good to hear from ya! Yeah, it's funny to see the pix of Bob climbing in a place I know so well, yet never associated with climbing! Unfortunately, never got to climb with him on "my" island, I didn't go back and visit Mom during the same time that he was there. Was thinking about him a bunch in the Meadows this year... Yep, been wasting a lot of time climbing lately. It feels great!
Now enough thread hijacking, you've gotta have a scary solo story to tell.....
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Karl Baba
Trad climber
Yosemite, Ca
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Aug 23, 2006 - 02:22am PT
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Here's a couple scary tidbits that didn't make it into any of my web stories.
Went to solo Kor-Beck. While high on the first pitch, a practical avalanche of rocks pours down all around me. It's a miracle that wasn't it right there. I climbed up quickly under a roof and another load sprays all around. I bail asap after that. Soon a couple experienced Yosemite climbers rapped down and said they trundled a huge block so the route would be safer. I pointed out that I wasn't feeling that safe...
Soloing the insecure 5.7 face pitch 5 of East Butt of Middle, a water bottle with a biner comes flying down straight towards me. I hang on tight and try to program my mind not to let go even if I get whacked. The bottle bounces less than two feet directly above my head and zings over me. I caught the guys who accidentally dropped it and it turned out they were local acquaintances. Cool guys.
Onsight soloed the Harding Route on the Apron up to the Oasis. Figured 5.7 how hard can it be? Always a big mistake. Routefinding was nightmare and of course there was loose rock and Lichen. Just when I was about home free, it threatened to rain (and the route is a 800 foot slab with no anchors at all) A few drops came down as I hurried to finish but never enough to make the thing too wet.
Then there was the time I soloed Commitment and banged my head hard on the crux roof move. I had to concentrate not to let go then.
Unfortunately there's more but I have to crash
Peace
Karl
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golsen
Social climber
kennewick, wa
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Aug 23, 2006 - 02:22am PT
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good story Karl, thanks.
but how permanent was your mental refreshening from the relationship?
Just curious if it really helps or is it like taking some good drugs...I thin it is more like that latter.
I am very glad I dont have as exciting stories as some of you...
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Karl Baba
Trad climber
Yosemite, Ca
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Aug 23, 2006 - 02:37am PT
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"but how permanent was your mental refreshening from the relationship? "
Referring to the Column Story? I guess it was an attempt to punctuate a change in my life with some kind of exclaimation point/period. Better than a question mark.
The real answer is who really knows?
PEace
Karl
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pcousar
Sport climber
White Salmon, WA
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Aug 23, 2006 - 03:52pm PT
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Like many solos, this started when a partner bailed on me in North Conway, so I figured I head to MA to see the folks. Took the scenic drive via Cannon. Once the cliff came into view I knew the time was right for the whitney gilman solo (about 700'). I was so stoked when I left the ground that I forgot to bring shoes for the hike down... Realized this about 1/3 of the way up, and continued on. Got down going barefoot half the time...
Saw that huntington's ravine mentioned. After an ice climbing 'class' on Katahdin I hiked up to odels gulley memorial day weekend. Proceded to chop steps with one axe and no crampons. that was nerve racking!
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Russ Walling
Social climber
Out on the sand, Man.....
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Aug 23, 2006 - 03:55pm PT
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Man.... it is times like this when I really miss Walt...... He had the best solo stories.
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sevrdhed
Boulder climber
salt lake city
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Aug 23, 2006 - 04:12pm PT
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"I will never forget about 30 years ago when I started climbing. There was a climb called Bushwhack Crack, a 5.8 that kicked my ass. A local hardman, Rick Wyatt was often seen climbing it sans rope and continuing for a couple more pitches to the top of the Gate Buttress in LCC. His ascents seemed so solid that it became the image in my head of what climbing could and should be. That was my first exposure to soloing and at that time it seemed like something I wanted to do once I got good enough. "
Just thought it was funny that the first soloing story in here starts off with something about bushwhack crack.
About 30 years ago now, my father was soloing bushwhack crack, showing off for his girlfriend at the time (my mother), and her little sister. He ended up falling about 20 or 30 feet up, hitting the rock at the base of the climb, and shattering his leg. After getting rescued, recovering, having kids, etc, he introduced me to climbing. Finally, a couple of years ago, after not having climbed for 25 years, I managed to get him out to climb. We're now working towards his lifelong (since 2nd grade) goal of climbing the Great White Throne, down in Zion.
Anyway, wanted to relate that little bit. Thanks for the thread!
Steve
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Tarbuster
climber
right here, right now
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Aug 23, 2006 - 04:33pm PT
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Walt's solo stories,
Always told with a trademark giddiness and bubbly enthusiasm.
It seemed he thrived on encountering the curve ball pitch on every excursion; he relished the out of the box full throttle escapes.
It was a rare thing for Walt to enjoy an inconsequential, tame and controlled outing when on the solo. He lived for the wild thing.
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looking sketchy there...
Social climber
Latitute 33
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Aug 23, 2006 - 05:01pm PT
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Although I gave up soloing for Lent, a few moments on the rock, sans rope, still stand out:
Met a Curry Co girl who was interested in going climbing and we arranged to meet around 1:00 pm. What was needed was a quick climb or two to fill in the morning. Central Pillar seemed a good prospect for a quick solo. After all there were always people doing it, so I figure it would be easy to just snatch a ride down on their ropes when finished.
I get to the base and no-one is on the thing, but some friends are racking up at the base. No problem, I'll just head up and wait for them, they shouldn't take too long. At the top of the 5th pitch, I pull out a butt bag and clip into the anchor and wait, and wait, and wait... No sign of anyone, though I can't see below the roof at the beginning of the 3rd pitch.
After what seems like ages (and risking missing my "date") I yell over to climbers raping down Paradise Lost. "So you see anyone on the lower pitches below me?" The answer is "No!"
I think, sh#t, those a**holes bailed and left me stranded. So, after a few moments, I figure it is downclimb time and mentally psych for the moves down the route (the exit moves out of the dihedral atop pitch 1 seem like the diciest to reverse).
After downclimbing Pitch 5 and 4, a head pops up above the roof. I think, phew..."Hey, what happened to you guys?" Seems they almost did bail, but only continued because I was waiting. We all rap from atop pitch 3. But the real bummer of the whole thing is I was very late for my date and we never did go climbing... She ends up hooking up with some Valley regular and took to climbing (and him) with great enthusiasm.
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golsen
Social climber
kennewick, wa
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Aug 23, 2006 - 05:43pm PT
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now see, theres a cost to soloing that most guys dont think about...
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10b4me
Trad climber
California
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Aug 23, 2006 - 06:05pm PT
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I have a page with 8 solo stories here
If you just read one, read the Washington Column Direct one
Karl, I've read that story a few times. Still gives me the willies.
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Blitzo
Social climber
Earth
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Aug 23, 2006 - 07:07pm PT
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sevrdhed, is this the "Bushwhack Crack" that you spoke of?
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handsome B
Gym climber
Saskatoon, Saskatchawan
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Aug 23, 2006 - 07:22pm PT
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The One and Only, Blitzo
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James
climber
A tent in the redwoods
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Aug 23, 2006 - 08:27pm PT
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Golsen,
cost smost
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Maysho
climber
Truckee, CA
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Topic Author's Reply - Aug 23, 2006 - 08:31pm PT
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Awesome stories everyone! Here is one, sorry if it is overlong...
For something different...
I had become interested in backcountry skate skiing mid 90's. Used to race nordic seriously in the mid 80's, and I got on this kick of "the biggest piece of stone with the least amount of gear" realizing that there were good possibilities to take this into the winter sliding realm. So driving into the valley over Crane Flat on the kind of clear day when you can see your favorite wall pitches etched starkly in the sky, I get a vision of the Buena Vista Crest and Merced Peak, shimmering in the distance. Knowing that it had not snowed in 2 weeks, and having just dug some pits with teens in Tahoe, I deem the conditions auspicious. With no pre-trip planning save for a phone call to each of my strong skiing bro's, Messick on the Westside, Moynier on the East, who would know where to look if I did not return, I set off the next morning from Badger Pass with fischer rcs skating skis, and a fanny pack, next stop Mammoth Mountain. Over the long day, I find what I am seeking, a deeper connection to the terrain and condition. Slopes that I would cruise down asleep on heavy metals, I must ski with total awareness of the finer scale of slope and divet, crust and corn, cool blue powder, and wind scoured ice. One wrong turn and I would break my little carbon toothpicks, and suffer a very long trudge back. I spend the long February night traversing the north face of Triple Divide Peak. I take a few naps on my little square of ensolite, in a bivy sack, until I start shivering, then get back up to keep on sliding. One time I get into overly steep terrain, start kicking steps down in the dark, till I come to a cliff edge the bottom of which is too far for my headlamp beam to reach, head back up and find another way. Dawn is spectacular and finds me on the ridgetop of Long Mountain. I wait for an hour for the sun to soften the steep slope I must descend, then kick with my little Salomons down through the cornices, using the skis as alpenstocks, then swooping big turns with echoing yells, no one is around to hear but me and the Clarks nutcrackers who, amazingly, winter over up there. One memory is a "blue room", below the sun line, I am back on frozen crust traversing a vortex circling down to a frozen lake. It does not look possible on my edgeless skis till I notice the pattern of texture on the snow, that had melted and refroze in little lines all heading one direction, I find it enough to keep my skis going straight if I stay in the correct orientation. The rest of the morning is some miles of contour, where the skating skis really shine, high speed traversing across the headwaters of the San Joaquin. The crux descent is the final slope down to Twin Island Lakes. Entering the slope, I traverse across some nice windboard, saying to myself "dont stop, you'll just get gripped" then I look back and see my tiny tracks like dull knife marks in the slope, and the 300ft cliff below my line. Late that evening after a big climb up to Catherine Lake, an awesome descent to 1000 Island Lake on blown-in powder, I take a wrong turn and head all the way down to the San Joaquin instead of up to Deadman Pass. By this time I am beyond bonk, headlamp batteries gone, and lost in the volcanic zone around Devils postpile. The grain of the granitic landscape that I have been so easily following devolves into complete volcanic chaos, creeks seem to be flowing the wrong way, I keep thinking that I will top out on the plateau of Agnew Meadow, only to hit another ridgetop and struggle down the other side. Finally, I say f*ck it, I will simply head east and hit the desert by morning, just then at last I ski onto the road down by Reds meadow. A long skate back to Minaret Pass, and I am heading down the road. I am so psyched, after 36 hours and 10 powerbars I am starving to death, a steak dinner at the Mammoth Mountain Inn is 2 downhill miles ahead! All of a sudden, the tracks I am following veer left, I am bombing down a hill, and it takes 5 minutes to realize I have followed rental snow machine tracks to Inyo Crater overlook, the wrong road. Back up the hill, at last I hit the lodge half hour after the kichen closed. I take the last shuttle into town, only place open is the dive pizza and wings joint, all I have is an amex card and a few checks, which the dude won’t take. I offer to leave my gear and come back and pay in the morning but he ain’t having it. Finally, desperate I say “f*cking feed me or call an ambulance!” he pulls some quarters out of the tip jar and gives me a slice, just enough to hobble to Motel 6 where the sweet lass gives me quarters off my amex and I devour all the crackers in the vending machine. Moral of the story, I have learned that when it really matters, blow off the powerbars and bring salmon meat, cheese and trailmix.
Peter
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golsen
Social climber
kennewick, wa
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Aug 23, 2006 - 08:46pm PT
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sheesh blinny. The case of the missin rope. I think Id be lookin for it too.
James - uh err mmmm huh? OK
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Russ Walling
Social climber
Out on the sand, Man.....
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Aug 24, 2006 - 12:15am PT
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Peter writes: “f*cking feed me or call an ambulance!”
kick assssss™™™™™™™™™™™™™
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Maysho
climber
Truckee, CA
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Topic Author's Reply - Aug 24, 2006 - 12:31am PT
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EKaterina,
Greetings! It has been awhile since I've seen you at ol tamarack. Thanks for posting that terrifying story, your man is a lucky man!
XO
Peter
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tom ward
Trad climber
The Back Yard, CA
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Aug 24, 2006 - 01:26am PT
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What do you do when you have weekdays off and nobody to climb with? You climb alone. Night climbing at the Leap is the best. Soloing The Line by headlamp is pure heaven. Soloing East Corner by headlamp is pure HELL!!!!!!
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Rankin
climber
Bishop, CA
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Aug 24, 2006 - 01:36am PT
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I din't read all of the above, but there's some outrageous shiite from what I have read. As for me, my scariest solo was an onsight solo of Little Corner at Shortoff Mountain in the Linville Gorge of North Carolina. Certainly an easy solo for me at the time, but I was so exhausted after having already soloed the North Ridge of Table Rock, Bumblee Buttess on NC Wall and the Mummy in the Amphitheatre. It was the middle of December, so I had started in the dark, blasted the first three formations and then started running the five miles to the top of Shortoff where I could eye the route. I ran into some guys who had hiked in on the Shortoff side of the gorge, and they looked all concerned for me when I told them about the day I'd had. I was sucking down the last of my jerky and an orange and stumbing around a bit as I made my way down the gully to the base of the route. Looking up, the route seemed fine, and would have been great, but my biceps and legs started cramping after the first hundred feet. I mostly stayed on route, and took my time, but was in pretty damn bad shape. It was hard to commit to longer reaches or higher steps because I was afraid my body would lock up while extended. So scary. I kept plodding on, I'm not sure it would have been safer to try and downclimb, and it was defintely quicker to keep climbing, so I did. At one point, the route wasn't completly obvious and I ended up commiting to moves through a bulge on lichen-covered horizontals, at about 350 feet to the deck. Just kept breathing and hoped to not start cramping. Fortunately, the climbing worked out, and the buzz I felt toping out took care of the pain. I still had water and a bagel left for the five miles back, so I was ultra psyced. I had wanted to do that link-up for a couple years, and had never heard of anyone who had done anything like it in the Gorge. I only knew of a couple people who had made the hike between the Amphitheatre and Shortoff, so I felt really out there all day.
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Maysho
climber
Truckee, CA
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Topic Author's Reply - Aug 24, 2006 - 09:13am PT
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Tom,
You better expand on those Leap by headlamp references. East Corner in the dark sounds totally nuts!
Peter
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Rhodo-Router
Gym climber
Otto, NC
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Aug 24, 2006 - 09:23am PT
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Peter- that's a great story about the skating traverse. I'm a hafta pass it around here.
Rob
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sevrdhed
Boulder climber
salt lake city
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Aug 24, 2006 - 10:16am PT
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Sure is Blitzo. Love that climb. Y'know the rock at the base, that you stand on to start the route? That's what he hit. I still have to get my dad back up that route. (Although I think we'll put him on TR this time.... haha)
Steve
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Tarbuster
climber
right here, right now
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Aug 24, 2006 - 11:14am PT
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I wonder if Looking Sketch's 10 Karat Solo has a story in it...
Dang Petey, that was worth the words, one of the better adventures banged out on the keys and posted.
The Blanchard cliff hanger is pretty good too.
Rankin: I was out on a 15 hour backountry solo a couple months ago and I had a similar experience; I was opting for a direct finish on a "4th class" 14K route, found myself pulling very carefully executed, vert 5.7 moves on small holds on a N Face. Verglass in spots, lightweight mountain boots on the feet and feeling the holds through thin gloves as my legs began cramping on the stretchy high steps. I could feel the fear and adrenalin slowly rising from my toes all the way up to my neck...
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Tarbuster
climber
right here, right now
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Aug 24, 2006 - 11:30am PT
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Like most of us I’ve logged gobs of solos over the years, but I don't recall too many thrutchy experiences.
I have done the Vision a couple of times; the second time up I was singing a little song to myself about the years marking change and when I got to the crux some of the nice crisp edges had busted off, but it went okay.
Out in Eldorado one day, I told Katie Cassidy that I was heading out for some soloing, thinking nothing of it and she said “You be careful Mr. Roy”, and I felt like this was kind of a jinx, so I was a little heads up, maybe even extra wary. I started with an on-site of some seldom climbed 3 pitch 5.8 with some really cool long lie back reach throughs.
On route to my second multi-pitch adventure of the day, I passed the scene of a pretty serious rescue effort, so I figured, OK, that's the spooky bit, I’m in the clear. I went on to do an on-site of the Roof Wall on Hot Spur. I decided to do the 5.10 direct start, just to get my head tightened up, because I knew the clean under cling was the last bit of solid rock on the route. The crux is a 5.9 finger crack about three pitches up and it goes through a modest roof/bulge (Jim Erickson calls it "Huge" in his book). It was good times picking my way through all this loose rock on what turned out to be a pretty neat climb.
The scariest solo I ever did was actually leading a climb called Yes Fragile on the Rotwand. I swear to biscuit, every piece of gear was lateral panty weight mank behind loose flakes. Up near the top I started making balancey moves and I felt each one was the deciding factor of whether or not I was going to see an opportunity to make another.
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goatboy smellz
climber
bouldercolorado
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Aug 24, 2006 - 02:46pm PT
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"panty weight mank behind loose flakes"
friggin poetry dude!
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eeyonkee
Trad climber
Golden, CO
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Aug 24, 2006 - 03:26pm PT
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I mentioned this a few months ago in another post, but it seems appropriate for this thread. In 1981, having just done Freestone the day before with Rob Rohn and waiting for the arrival of my girlfriend from college, Eugenia, I decided to try to free-solo the NE Buttress of Higher Cathedral rock. At the time, I knew that Yabo had free-soloed it.
The climbing went fast and without incident for the first 8? pitches. For the many of you who have undoubtedly climbed it, it's mostly bomber 5.7 to 5.8 hand jamming - the perfect long free-solo. Then I got to the 5.10a face crux. After all of that solid crack climbing, the face bit, although short, seemed so scary. I must have started and then stopped 20 times before I finally decided that I didn't want Eugenia to arrive at the Valley with a "messy" situation involving me. So, I downclimbed the damn thing. The downclimbing was actually quite easy. I don't know that I ever told Eugenia about the incident.
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AP
Trad climber
Calgary
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Aug 24, 2006 - 03:35pm PT
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A key thing is to be able to back down if need be. In 1986 I was in Yosemite and spent a few days with Dan Guthrie and Peter Croft. We would go to a cliff together, Peter would solo a bunch of stuff while Dan and I would rope up and do things in a conventional style.
I watched Peter solo up to the huge saddle like chickenhead on New Diversions, decide it was a bit weird to his liking, then downclimb a little ways and head on up another way.
Even the masters aren't afraid to back off sometimes on things way below their limit.
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Tarbuster
climber
right here, right now
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Aug 24, 2006 - 06:36pm PT
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I think that's one of the many criteria which separate me from itinerant free soloists and I have thought about this a bit.
Croft used to go down things just to warm up and as I remember it, he said he got into the whole downsolo thing as a requirement for getting down free solo projects in the Bugaboo's.
Geez, I've onsighted gobs of stuff I was in no way prepared to descend (of course I can and have downclimbed lots of rock).
Walt used to free solo just one notch above his leading limit, partially leveraged by the lightness afforded by lack of a rope or rack...
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Mimi
Trad climber
Seattle
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Aug 24, 2006 - 07:06pm PT
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Yeah, the sheer lightness of being without the rope or rack!
We miss you Walt.
Great stories everyone.
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James
climber
A tent in the redwoods
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Aug 24, 2006 - 08:56pm PT
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Winter in Joshua Tree is like Hell when the furnace busts, but for some reason I had driven my tank of a S-10 eight hours to get there. The Monkeys had hunkered down through the grim weather and were anxiously awaiting my arrival and our subsequent departure to the Creek. I hadn't climbed much in the park and figured one more day in Josh wouldn't kill anyone.
The scrambling was circuitous: Double Cross, to The Flue, to Hobbit Book, to Gerinomo, to Half Track. Forty-five minutes into it and I needed a compass to find my as#@&%e. The monkeys had been spinning holds all winter; they were strong and lean. I had crushed racks of Nutter Butter cookies; I was an orca. Half the monkeys scampered back into the boulders to pack their dung into the caravan. I was tired but still pysched to climb and Jens and Renan were amped to show me around.
Across the road, in Real Hidden Valley, there's a steep cliff hidden behind talus with a sprinkle of routes. Renan eyeballed the far left one, Solo's Bee, and floated it while Jens slowly pulled on his Anasazis. Renan scampered back to the base and we watched transfixed as Jens started to dance up the Bebop Tango.
In Washington, they call him the Jackhammer. He has a nervous disorder that makes him vibrate like he blew thirteen lines of peruvian flake and today was no different. My palms were dripping buckets of sweat as Jens moved up. Sure, he had the route wired but I've seen Autumn leaves shake less. Jens hit the last hold and pulled over.
Renan, without skipping a beat, started his own swing into Bebop Tango. My eyeballs turned into saucers as Renan moved up the route. Jens had done the moves statically but Renan was hucking. His muscles were shaking, you couldn't get that pumped at a gas station. One more long move guarded the easy climbing to the summit. I held my breath and watched Renan rocket through the air. At the tip of his arc his fingers diddled a hold. He jerked onto his fingernails, pulling onto the edge, and hiking quickly to the top.
Feeling the pressure of the send train, I pulled on my shoes hoping the caboose wouldn't be too bad. I moved up the holds of Solo's Bee gripped to the bone. I'd say more but just thinking about that solo makes me want to sh#t myself.
In the morning it snowed. The Creek was better.
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matty
Big Wall climber
Valencia, CA
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Aug 24, 2006 - 09:10pm PT
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Great stories everyone!!!
I think I have one that will fit.
A few years after my brother gave me my first harness and locking biner, ski mountaineering inspired me to learn to climb. So I went out and got a toprope setup; biners, rope, webbing. One heavily studied edition of "Mountaineering: The Freedom of the Hills" later and I was ready to go toproping. I headed out to the cliff with Josh, a friend I dragged from the dorm who had never been climbing. We parked at the base of a remote cliff and walked in. I picked a line via which I thought I could scramble up to the top. Trailing the rope and wearing my hiking boots, I started up. The first 20-30 feet led me to the right following a ramp that ended at a greatly sloping ledge with a dead tree above a 20-30 foot cliff to the talus/forest. To reach the top I must find a way around a blank 10 foot vertical section followed by a wide, dirty, low angle crack. Atop the crack stood a tree starting another ramp system to the top.
It was at the moment I decided to get to that next tree that I stopped scrambeling and started soloing. I traversed, left, up then back to meet the dirty crack. Moving up the crack I was one move away from safety as I grabed the last good hold to get over a steeper section. Commited,I smeared and pulled. I was almost there, and then I was moving backwards as the hold pulled off a large loose block. Falling, the block barely missed my right foot and then I was on my stomach sliding down the crack following it. I envisioned the cliff I was heading for, above the sloping ledge, above the larger cliff, above the talus and forrest. Accelerating quickly I flipped onto my butt and only had a few more moments to survey the situation before I hit the first cliff. My eyes landed on the dead tree. It was my only hope. I tried to steer that way , braced myself, and prepared to be launched. The tree came fast and I slammed into it bear hugging for dear life and feeling some broken off branches rip my fleash in the process. That dead tree probably moved few feet and I swear I heard the roots breaking. In my mind I was watching it rip out and fling me over the next drop. It held and I climbed down. Surveying myself I found no broken bones or deep cuts, but plenty of scrapes and bruises.
I hobbeled down to my friend and saw an amazed look on his face. Being around a slight corner, he had only heard the fall while witnessing a rapidly growing pile of rope at this feet. We went home after that. I was back a week later with someone who knew a way to the top, and we had a great time climbing. I'll never forget that first experience. It always makes me think about a plan for what might happen if something failed at any time, and that's a skill you can never have too much of. Hope you enjoyed my story, it's the first time I've written about it.
Matt
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Tarbuster
climber
right here, right now
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Aug 24, 2006 - 10:56pm PT
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Matty:
When Bob the Aid Man soloed Leaning Tower with just aiders and daisies, he had some kinda way out plan to track for the trees if he wipped. Now that's a miracle wip.
Shoot, I just read that link to the James story.
The event inquestion was in fact the first thead I followed when I began looking into climbing forums.
Whew, maybe now I get why you are a bit reluctant to leave up some of your solo stories James. Well, I really like the writing, just like everyone else.
Plus, yah, Bebop Tango ain't no cream puff.
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john hansen
climber
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Aug 24, 2006 - 11:14pm PT
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In 85 or so , two rookie dudes(Me and my buddy) were atempting the gumby route 'Uncle Fannys' at churchbowl. He started out on lead got up a bit and put in a big hex, there was a crack in a corner going up around 15 feet (5.9) and a 5.7 slab out to the right. My buddy started up the crack thinking he could get in pro, not knowing it was 5.9. He got up about ten feet and was kinda stuck when some dude comes by my belay and walked up that slab like it was.... 5.7.
First time I saw a photo of Peter Croft I said to myself 'that was that guy'..
My friend fell out of the crack about 30 seconds later and broke his ankle. We really where 'wannabee,s'.
Another time in 84 or so our little gang was top roping at 'nintey foot wall' above Emerald bay at tahoe. A couple older longhaired dudes showed up and started free soloing all the 5.7 s and 5.8s. My brother was messing around with a 5.11 face climb on top rope in a pair of converse tennis shoes. The oldest guy came over and said " That ain't tennie shoe territory" and started giving us a pantomine showing how to stick the moves.
Then he walzted up another 5.8 sans rope.
Couple days later one of the guys that was there called me and said " Dude, that was Bridwell ,I just saw his pic in a climbing mag.'.
What a gracious man to take the time to talk to us newbies.
Not quite scary, but, about solo's at least
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Karl Baba
Trad climber
Yosemite, Ca
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Aug 25, 2006 - 03:49am PT
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That Arrow Story is Ghengis. I just did the Arrow today and something about having left the anchor unattended while you are over on the the other side of that thing, with all kinds of tourists with strange ideas lurking about,
Well, it just makes the first round of Tyrolean that much more exciting
Peace
Karl
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Teth
climber
Halifax, Nova Scotia, Canada
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Aug 25, 2006 - 10:40am PT
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I was eleven years old. I was out by myself and decided to climb the granite sea stack at Owl’s Head about a quarter mile from my house. My father had climbed it when he was young. The sea stack was about 50 feet of near vertical, well featured stone, separated from the cliff of its origin by about 25 feet of deep raging serf. Examining the route decades later I estimate it to be 5.6. About ten feet from the top I was backing off a move looking for a better alternative when the sheath of my hunting knife got caught on something and was turned upside down. The knife, which my father had given me for Christmas slipped out of its sheath and fell neatly into my rubber boot. I looked down at the raging serf breaking against the rock 40 feet below me and thought “Oh Sh!t, I could have lost my knife!”.
I remember the moment clearly, and it scares the crap out of me to think about it now, but at eleven I had no fear. I continued to the top, enjoyed the view, and then down climbed it.
Sometime after that incident I was climbing a 40 foot cliff and got to a ledge just below the top. Topping out from the ledge would have required that I climb a steep overhang, which on close inspection I was not sure if I was capable of climbing. I looked down at the jagged fractured granite boulders at the base and realized that if I fell I would get seriously messed up, and no one knew where to look for me if I was not able to get out on my own. I realized that I could have gotten myself into a really bad situation, and I found this to be very disturbing as I thought about the potential consequences. I found the down climb much more difficult, and scary, than the climb up had been.
Looking back on it I suspect that this incident is when I started to develop my fear of heights.
In the fall of 2001 I was participating in a route cleaning event organized by Climb Nova Scotia at a newly discovered cliff. After spending three hours on repel with a wire brush cleaning a 5.9 route (someone else’s project) I walked over to the lower end of the cliff where some people were bolting a sport route. After talking to them for a bit I wanted to look for some people who were at the top of the cliff, so in looking for the quickest and easiest way up I spotted a 20 foot well featured dihedral. This looked like a quicker way up than hiking around so I climbed up onto the ledge below it and then worked my way up to the top feeling quite secure. I pooped my head up over the top to see the whole crew of people I was looking for eating their lunch and a bunch of ropes and anchor gear strewn about. They were displaying some rather unusual expressions.
Let me quote from “Nova Scotia Rock, A Climber’s Guide”:
“Dirt Bag* 5.4, FA: Teth Cleveland (solo), October 28, 2001. Just to the left of Gobbles is an aesthetic inside-corner scrubbed for three hours by Nicole Brooks, who subsequently named the route Dirt Bag for a variety of reasons.”
I always felt bad about that. Of course I publicly apologized for inadvertently steeling her FA, and she claimed the name was due to the amount of dirt she scrubbed off, but I can’t help thinking that the name was appropriate “for a variety of reasons”.
Teth Cleveland
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humblefeet
climber
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Isn't pulling through it whats it all about? What doesn't kill you only makes you stronger...if it does, at least you die happy.
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Steve Grossman
Trad climber
Seattle, WA
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As John Yablonski used to say, "I get stronger when I shake." A boy and his gland..........
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Ricardo Carlos
Trad climber
Off center, CO.
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As John Yablonski used to say, "I get stronger when I shake." A boy and his gland..........
How many times did John save his own ass by a lucky or controlled fall-jump to a tree?
He told me of two, popping from the climb Frustration and the other was in the Valley.
Once soloing a crack ending in a easy mantel the day after a good rain I was stopped by sand on the mantel ledge. I tried to brush off the ledge but mostly just got sand in my eyes. After down climbing the climb a guy came up and asked, aren’t you embarrassed for having to down climb? Answered honestly I replied no but I would have been if I had fell and not died.
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Tarbuster
climber
right here, right now
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My 2 cents on Yabo:
He had some deep pain, like a murky emotional water level rising up to his kneck. Getting himself to that position of pumping, shaking, pulling through the brink into life from the one arm figertip thrutches helped to burn away all that psychic fog and bring him closer to his cleansed & preferred self.
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Steve Grossman
Trad climber
Seattle, WA
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Right on the mark Roy. He just wasn't going to do anything peacefully or in a settled conventional way. I could just never visualize an older, more sedate Yabo! Maybe the next time around..........
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Jello
Social climber
No Ut
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I used to think that on-sight, free-solo, first-ascent was the ultimate. Looking back, that ideal got me out on thin ice a few times, or up sh#t creek without a paddle, maybe. Or even sitting way out on a limb, sawing contentedly away at the branch behind me.
I'm 22 years old, fit as a tom cat and confident as a mountain goat. A new line on Andromeda in the Columbia Icefields calls to me. An 1,800' face of ice and a little rock leading directly to the West Shoulder. For extra style points my only tools are a set of crampons and a 70cm Chouinard piolet, the north wall hammer stays in camp. Crossing the gaping 'schrund and climbing 100' feet of 75-degree ice to get established on the face, with one hand tool, calls for exhilirating balance and concentration, just what I wanted. Then it's a romp up 50-degree alpine ice for 1,000' to a 50' rock band. I shove the axe through the pack straps behind my back and start up the (mostly) solid limestone, totally in the groove and grooving. Just below the top of the band, I pat a little side-pull with the heel of my hand to see if it's solid, and immediately begin to lieback when the hold seems to be sound. But as soon as I've really committed to the move, the edge pops, and I start to barn-door. The jolt of adrenaline is painful, hitting like 10,000 volts, providing the enormous energy needed to halt the barn-door before I fly completely off the hinges. "UUUNNNNGGGHHHH!", I grunt, with one hand levering my body back in contact with the rock. Two seconds, tops. The difference between death and redemption.
-ElectricJello
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Jello
Social climber
No Ut
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Andromeda again, routing out the secrets of a deep,ice-filled chimney that branches off to the right, before the crux of Tobin's route, The Shooting Gallery. Five-hundred feet of glassy smooth waterice shaped like a three-foot diameter half-pipe lead to the first crux, a pull past an overhanging chockstone, which in turn leads to a snowfield in an alcove topped by overhanging rock. From here there are two choices, an overhanging offwidth heading directly up, or thinly iced stepped slabs heading left around a corner to who knows where? I'm in ice mode, so head left. Around the corner things don't look so good. The steps between the iced slabs go from steep to overhanging, and from a few feet high to six or eight. The ice on the slabs thins from 3/4" thick down to 1/4" of verglass. I think I can see an exit ramp above the next couple of steps, though, so head directly up. After making desperate scratching moves over the first of the big steps, I realize with an alarming and rapidly building sense of dread that there's no way I'll be able to reverse those insecure moves. The next step is bigger and quite obviously more difficult. Keep it together, man, just deal with it...
The next twenty feet of climbing require laser focus on the pick of each tool as it torques in a crack or slices down a few inches to hook in the verglass. Crampon front-points are placed with pin-point accuracy. Nothing else will do, there is NO margin for error. I'm climbing at my limit, unprotected on unknown ground. I would be scared, but can't afford that luxury. There is no one moment as on the West Shoulder Direct, when a careless move leads to sudden danger. This is five minutes of peering into the void and avoiding its' siren call by directing all energies into an upward-sweeping vortex. When the difficulties diminish and I climb the last meters quickly to the top, I feel relieved of the twin burdens of ambition and desire. At least for a time.
-EmptyJello
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TwistedCrank
climber
Hell
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On my 21st birthday I bought a brand new set of SMC rigid crampons for cheap from the gear store in Mammoth that used to be behind the Safeway. They were cheap because they didn't come with the allen wrench screws they were supposed to come with. Instead I went to Ace hardware and bought some screws the kinda fit. The next morning I hitched up to June Lake to solo the falls under the power station. There had been some freeze-thaws so the ice was dinner plate hell. Half way up the falls I noticed that every time I kicked the crampons would would collapse because the screws wouldn't stay tight. For the next 100 feet or so I had to tighten the screws on the bottom of my crampons every couple of steps with my alpine hammer. While hanging from my Northwall hammer.
Not real scary but I recall being pretty amped when I got back down.
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tallguy
Trad climber
bay area
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After finishing college, my best friend and I take the summer off to dirtbag around Alaska, seeing all the places we had only read about. We make it out onto the Harding Icecap near Seward, and spend days cruising around the icecap scrambling/climbing the nunataks that stick a thousand feet or so out of the ice.
Full of the courage that naturally comes with being 21 and male, and driven by an awe inspiring lack of carnal knowledge, I head out one morning to climb a nice looking coulior/gully up on one of the nunataks. My best friend takes one look and decides I'm on my own, it's over his head. But hell, I've read Freedom of the Hills, I know this sh#t. He'll meet me on top, and it looks fine to me, so I start up, wearing my crampons and carrying my nearly new shiny 75 cm mountaineering axe. It's warm, probably in the 60s, so I'm only wearing long underwear bottoms and my sunglasses. The lower sections of the coulior are full of crevasses and a bergschrund, so I scramble up a rock band to the side and traverse into the coulier about 1/3 of the way up. I head up, kicking steps in the snow and making good time. Life is good.
It slowly steepens, and near the halfway point I come across a hidden bergshrund that was not visible from below. It's not wide enough to be really scary, only 6-8 feet, but looking into it I sure as hell know you don't want to be down into it. Dark icy slot that curves away into the deeps. I traverse left to where it pinches down to a couple feet near the rock wall, make a platform on the lip, and highstep over onto the snow above. I'm ascending with style and courage, life is so good.
A hundred feet higher, and I'm breaking a nervous sweat. The view down is now full on grim, I'm way up there and the bergschrund below me seems way larger, it's a full on man eating maw now. It's steepened considerably now, and I'm doubting that I can do anything like a self arrest before I'm clattering around inside the schrund. Worse, the view up is beyond grim, it's way steeper than I thought, and the snow sucks, a bit of soft mashed potato over grainy ice crystals. Steps up start sliding down, no matter how I kick the steps they don't want to seem to hold together.
Wisdom rears its head over the pounding sound of my heart in my ears, and god I need a drink of water, I suddenly seem to have not a drop of saliva in my body. Every breath sounds the ragged tone of desperation and worry. F*ck this, I'm going down, this is full on dangerous. Three steps down convince me I'm hugely stupid, it's terrifying descending, and I know now that I've climbed past the point where I can safely downclimb my steps. Stepping down into the steps ruins them, they slide out and crumble to nothing. Life is not okay at all.
Up is it, it's the only choice, so I keep going. Looking down at all makes me dizzy, and I need every bit of focus to keep my balance as I reset my mountaineering axe to kick more steps. It's now so steep that I kick steps until my kneecap touchs the snow while straight legged, and I'm reaching up full extension (I'm well over 6'), one hand on the pick and one on the adze, to plunge the entire length of the axe into the snow. Not at all sure it will hold if my steps slide out, better not to think about that. Working up the courage to reset the axe is draining, every moment the axe is out of the snow is a moment where any little shift of balance ends in the crevasses and schrunds below, head over heels until I disappear like a quarter into a slot machine. Worse, I'm sweating so hard now that my sunscreen is running into my eyes, clouding my sunglasses, and rendering sight into shades of Monet. Stinging eyes and squinting hard, I can't take my hands off the axe to do anything, only blink and hope.
The only way I can do it is look straight ahead, either looking up or down brings adrenaline shots of pure fear. I can't even look up to see when I reset my axe, just tilting my head back a little feels like it will start a balance loss that would cause me to fall over backwards headfirst into nothingness. Plus, it causes more sunscreen to pool in the corners of my eyes. Balance is nonexistant when you can barely open your eyes. Life is so far bad now its not even funny, there's a constant loop of "this is the stupidest thing you've ever done" running through my head. Never again will I touch crampons or an axe, my mother was right.
Up I go. Hours go by, foot by painful foot.
Finally comes the moment of pure beauty, not capable of description or imagination unless you've been there yourself. I feel the angle ease back a degree or two. The sky is blue again, and my parents will be spared the phone call telling them that they've outlasted their son.
In less than 20 feet, its over and I've escaped. I have no memory of the walk up to the summit, its likely that I glided or flew. My friend is waiting asleep on the summit blocks, once he hears me he only asks if it was a long walk around and up the way he came. I can only say yes, it was a long walk around.
That icy endless landscape seen from the summit is without a doubt the nost beautiful thing I've seen in my life.
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eeyonkee
Trad climber
Golden, CO
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Gripping story, tallGuy!
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John Vawter
Social climber
San Diego
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When my kids were 5 and 7, we rented a cabin at Rock Creek for a week in July. We spent the days hiking, fishing, and visiting Hot Creek and Bodie. I wanted a half a day to myself to do some climbing. I hadn't been climbing much so I didn't even consider a Class 5 route. I was looking for a long third class ridge that would put me on one of the summits that ring the Little Lakes Valley.
But I couldn't completely deny my ambition: I settled on the North Face of Mt. Dade, Class 4. I left the cabin at O'dark hundred, drove to the trailhead, and set out in the dark. I carried only water and some extra clothing and made it to the base of the glacier by 7:30.
The glacier stretched a few hundred feet up into the north face and was out of the question in my low tops. But on the left, there was only about 50 feet of ice to climb to get to rock. Numerous rocks were imbedded in the ice that could serve as foot and hand holds. I strung these together and made it onto the rock below and slightly right of an impressive, sheer buttress. My plan was to traverse up and right as directly as possible to intercept the relatively lower angled north face just above the glacier.
I climbed steep rock broken by ledges, blocks and shelves up and right, up and right. But each time I thought I was about to break through to easier ground, a move outside my comfort zone stopped me. It was always just a little easier to continue up than it was to traverse right to easier ground. I continued like this, making occasional moves of middling class 5. The higher I got, the more concerned I was about reversing what I'd climbed. A little higher up, I abandoned any thought of downclimbing.
The moment of truth came mid-way up the face in a steep, sand-filled crack about a foot wide. I was close, perhaps 25 feet from a place where I could easily reach the lower angled face. The sand in the crack was consolidated, but not so much that I couldn't kick toe holds in it.
Good holds were rare. Mostly my weight was on my toes in the sand, and I used the rails of the crack for balance. Watching my feet for any sign that the sand might give way, I moved up and put my hand on a good-sized flake protruding from the sandy crack. I hoped it was the tip of an iceberg, but as I began to weight it gently, the flake shifted. A little avalanche of sand swept down over my shoes and billowed out into the void.
The adrenaline rush stiffened me. I couldn't unweight the flake without pitching off, but I had to quickly shift enough weight off that shoulder to keep from prying the flake out of the sand. My body sort of fluttered like a flag in the wind for a moment, then stopped.
The next few moves were just a blur. A toe in the sand, a toe on rock, pinching an edge, passing the flake delicately without touching it, weighting another booby-trapped flake, another jolt of adrenaline and narrowing of focus. More sand, something solid to grab and mantle onto, more steep but now solid or at least stationary rock, and finally the low angle ground. The sense of relief was like oxygen. Instead of just what I could see and touch in front of me, there was wind and sky, a past and a future.
For the first time I could climb without using my hands. I floated up the last bit up onto the face proper. Another hundred feet or so took me to a short overhang with some real 5th class climbing, but on solid rock. It felt good to be able to pull hard on rock that didn't move under my weight. I wound my way through the blocks, spires and debris to the summit.
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mooser
Trad climber
seattle
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For me, it was anything I climbed in the Czech Republic before the first clip. Mo-o-o-o-m-m-m-my-y-y!!
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DrCrankenstein
Social climber
too many places, actually
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It was '97 or '98 (or whenever that was) and I was in the Meadows and exchanging this story with Walt Shipley and he's showing me his funky, homemade kayaking helmet he is so proud of and about this stretch of whitewater he is way stoked to do...
I was having a great year sending and doing some of the best solos of my life. I was really inspired that year to hang it out there third classing. Within this era I had soloed up to 12a after rehearsal and up to 10+ onsight and I was definitely NOT a soloist (I liked to solo). I never was confident enough to onsight solo anything harder than 5.9 on greater than one pitch routes with high cruxes. I had just descended off Fairview, the Reg Route and feeling very stoked after my confident and totally solid onsight solo. So, I am looking at the right side now for a "cool-down". Ah, its only 5.8...No problem...Perfect after doing a more continuous and difficult line...OK let's fire off the GREAT PUMPKIN and call it a day. The first two thirds was cruiser easy low angle rock, totally reversible. Now I am on this thin ledge that tapers out right to a diving board lip. Here is the crux. Without even hesitating from this rhythm I was in and the fact that thunderheads were present I tried what seemed totally obvious...YIKES! That's not the way. It can't be...Uggg...Here I am standing on this thin ledge that flexes when you bounce on it. Stupid! Why did you need to be so curious if that lip section would flex?? You are only making yourself get freaked now. There are all these things going on in my little world right now...To set the stage, the weather is not looking that great to be most of the way up a route and having to halfway attempt a crux section and contemplate it many times to find "the way". Why the f*#k am I soloing? Sh#t this sucks. I am making myself freak, for sure! If I was tied in I would simply clip this bolt in my face and not think twice...CRACK!!!!!!!!Goddammit! F*#K! THUNDER! Its going to f*#king rain and you blew your window to start down climbing! DUDE! Get your sh#t together NOW!! OK! The proper way to do the crux totally goes up to this shitty, greasy, slopey knob over outer-space and then straight out right. That is definitely how I would do it roped up. I just couldn't commit to it. NO WAY! So, I devise this sequence of three or four harder moves straight up to what seemed like a way more solid traverse to the right...I figure if I blew it with this sequence I should be able to grab the [flexy] lip of the ledge on the way down!!! I had to just do something before I completely lose it up there. There was no way I was going to sit out a storm straddling this thin ledge (one of my options at this point). After clearing my mind I go for it with my reserves kicking in and my nervous system WELL in the RED. Ok...KEEP IT TOGETHER...Ok...Ok...Ok hold, smear, smear, jug, hand jam and stand up to a leaning system out right. HOLY SH#T BATMAN!! That was way gnar-lo!!! After about 8 minutes of easier traversing and finally getting to the upper shoulder of the formation, I AM SAFE...It was ONLY 5.8...
...YOU SOLOED THE GREAT PUMPKIN??? DUDE!!! I would NEVER solo that!! I wouldn't guide it either...SICK!...Walt Shipley, The MASTER of SICK...That was the last time I ever saw Walt. It wasn't until the next month that I heard he lost HIS life "SOLOING" in the rapids.
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Tarbuster
climber
right here, right now
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Nice one.
I guided The Great Pumpkin with a client who was in his late 60's. We went up on the route with a single rope and way up high it started raining on us and we couldn't go down. In a lull I waited for the tips of the knobs to dry out so we could finish up just before the weather closed in hard again.
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DrCrankenstein
Social climber
too many places, actually
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Hey Roy...Its Alex...Long time no see bro! I thought I would jump in the game here with my first post. I had been lurking and figured out who the real Tarbuster is. Say hi to Lisa!
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Tarbuster
climber
right here, right now
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Where the hell have you been Alex?
-And welcome to the Taco.
Watch out for trolls and don't get sucked too far down the bunny hole; this place is time consuming.
Also, please post up every picture you ever took at the crags, we can always use a look ouside...
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DrCrankenstein
Social climber
too many places, actually
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CA...Totally different job...Inspecting petroleum tanks on west coast...In Hawaii right now surfing the net. Can you believe it? On vacation here then 3 weeks in YO!!!
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Tarbuster
climber
right here, right now
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Way to be.
Tell us another solo story.
I'll say hi to Lisa, we were just talking about you and wondering.
Gotta love the taco.
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DrCrankenstein
Social climber
too many places, actually
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I'll dig up some other story material and post some pics later...Gonna stop surfing on my laptop and start typing some waves...
...For anyone who surfs the North Shore Oahu and hasn't climbed at THE cliff in Mokuleia, you should! Its totally RAD!!!
Cheers
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DrCrankenstein
Social climber
too many places, actually
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Roy...Tell Lisa I am staying with Jenny and Jeff here on Oahu and they say Aloha!!
Alex
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DrCrankenstein
Social climber
too many places, actually
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Snowshed wall summer of 2000...Kurt Smith said one of his most memorable (and proud) solos was Manic Depression, same day with John Bachar. I was WAY inspired (these guys are my heroes)! I'm all psyched up from leading some of the other classics here (Sanitation Crack, Farewell To Arms and Bottomless Topless onsight solo). Manic Depression looks hard! I rack up and tie in to lead it (way over my head to onsight solo). Crimp, finger lock (repeat) good nuts in between and here is the crux move...FALLING...Bummer! I lower down. That sucks! I blew the onsight. Second attempt yo-yo. I got the first half dialed and...SH#T! I fell again. Crap! So much for a free solo! I can't even get it on lead. Huh! This time I don't lower down but figure the move out and get to an anchor. After top roping it clean 2 or 3 times, I decide I will never solo it. Its not my bag!
DAY THREE, SNOWSHED WALL...
Lead the classic warm ups...Monkey Paws looks way good! As if I had done it 30 times, I got the onsight lead. That was way easier than MD and one letter grade harder. Ratings don't mean shit! This is my route! After top roping it 2 more times I had found a totally locker soloing-sequence to set up for the lock off move and a smooth way to glide through the final moves. After a 45 minute routine of pre-solo meditation and stretching, I lace up my trusted shoes and with a dusty clap of chalk I am sticking the initial roof move above. I am flowing magma, strong as hardened steel. Every thin hand, big finger jam is like the rung of a ladder. Wow...I am already past the crux and no need to shake out. So cool. I take a pause for the final intricate step move to clear the bulge and I am making the upright transition to walking off...AAAAAAAAAAWWWWWWWWWWWWWHHHHHHHHHHHUUUUUUUUUUUUU!!!!!!!
With a cry-out loud enough to be heard in town, I am WAY STOKED!!!
Hey! Whose rope is this? I am pointing to the TR set up for Manic D...Do you mind if I slip on my harness and take a ride? Sweet! I am totally warmed up and its been a good 20 minutes of cool down since Monkey Paws. I've got a perma-grin and all these eyes are burning into my back, I can feel it. Crimp, finger lock (repeat) set up for the crank through...WOOPS...HaHa...JUST LOWER ME...Its a good thing I wasn't soloing, I laughingly mumbled out loud...What a trip.
"Beats a trip to the morgue"- Anonymous Climber
Looking back at that moment affirms every bit of good judgment I ever had and feeling even more rewarded by an ability to confront risk and fear.
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Oli
Trad climber
Fruita, Colorado
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Royal Robbins and Dave Rearick made, if I recall (I'd have to check) 2nd or 3rd ascent of the Northwest Face of Half Dome. Royal was chimneying up behind Psyche Flake, the enormous, detached block that used to be. It was a solo, of a kind, since there was no protection, and everything depended on the flake staying there. With Royal pushing with all his might outward on the flake with his feet, and his back against the main wall, Rearick was a bit nervous and said something. Royal comforted him with words along the lines of, "Think of all the thousands of years ice has been pressing outward against this flake. No two mere mortals are going to do anything to break it loose." Not long after, some climbers arrived at this location on the wall, to find the flake had fallen off, apparently, under its own power.
I was about age 13 when I started climbing in Eldorado with Kor. He didn't view me as young and expected me to keep up and hold my own in every respect. Histories are wrong that have ever stated that Kor had me "in tow." Hardly. We swung leads, and sometimes we soloed up the wall to where the harder climbing began. He and I made the second ascent of the Naked Edge, and we soloed the vertical three hundred or so feet up Redguard Route to the actual start of the edge. Near the top of this 300 feet is a cave you climb out and over, doing a wild, exposed lieback/undercling on sketchy, slightly rotten blocks. I had a coiled rope on, a pack, and was further bound by having my light down jacket on. I found myself doing that undercling (pretty stiff 5.8, if I recall, the scary Eldorado kind, and a straight drop 300 feet to the talus if I were to have made a mistake. Layton simply went up and over first, and I followed. He must have trusted my abilities at that young age, and I recall his somewhat sinister smile as I emerged out over the lip of the cave and made the last moves to him. I didn't have sense enough at that age to know I could ask for a belay.
I have lots of solo stories, but gotta get back to work at the moment...
Pat
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Steve Grossman
Trad climber
Seattle, WA
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Great tales Pat. Thirteen years old! Kor must have reckoned that you had good survival potential to pull that one off! If your parents had any idea.....too funny.
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Karl Baba
Trad climber
Yosemite, Ca
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Speaking of Soloing when it suddenly threatens to rain, I have a few!
Here's one about the East Butt of El Cap (roped a few of the tougher pitches)
http://www.yosemiteclimber.com/ElCapEastButtress.html
I was onsight freesoloing the 5.7 Harding route on the Glacier Point Apron (the routefinding was tough to boot) and I was many hundreds of feet up when it started to sprinkle. Fortunately I was able to get to the oasis before it got too wet.
Peace
Karl
Edit
Gotta throw in one more kinda weird one, when I soloed to Lucifer's ledge and beyond to the Oasis. Started late and enjoyed the unplanned bivy
http://www.yosemiteclimber.com/LucifersLedgeSolo.html
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deuce4
Big Wall climber
the Southwest
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Here's some old Josh pics, of me soling with Lechlinksi. What fun those days were, the funnest!
Can't remember the routes, though they look pretty familiar. Anybody know these climbs? I would like to be reminded of what a badass I used to be.
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jerr
climber
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This place is like the super hard man area.
Yo i once heard of the route "sea of holes" at hueco tanks that the FA bra did onsight solo . I decided in order to do the route proper id have to free solo onsight .Otherwise it would not be a true ascent. Oh well, i got to the top easy peasy when this chill wind came up . Harshly it blew ,until my shirt went right over my head in the instant i was on the only hard move off the route, Had to rip it off. Sheewww.
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Karl Baba
Trad climber
Yosemite, Ca
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May 10, 2007 - 02:03am PT
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I've posted this link a few times in some older threads but I think this is my best stupid coulda died solo story so I'll link it here too. This was my onsight solo of the Direct on Washington Column. Routefinding is the crux!
http://yosemiteclimber.com/Washington_Column_Solo.html
It was a miracle I survived that one.
I must be protected or something cause I have so many stupid solo stories.
Freesolo on the 5.7 face pitch on East Butt of Middle, I see a full water bottle and biner header right for me. I wince and try to program my head to hold on if I get clocked but there would be little hope. The water bottle hit the stone about 2 feet above my head and bounced right over me. I caught up with the party who dropped it and they turned out to be some of my friends, YI instructors. Stuff happens
On the other hand, I'm free solo on the first pitch of Kor Beck and rocks absolutely start raining all around me. Rocks to the left, rocks to the right and rocks behind me. Total rock shower! I'm pissing my pants and scrambling up to hide under a roof. Then a second huge volley of rocks.
Enough is enough, I bailed. Later a couple old time Valley climbers rap down and admit that they trundled a few large loose boulders so the "Safety" of the route would be enhanced. Coulda fooled me.
Peace
Karl
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Mazzystr
Gym climber
Homeless...
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May 15, 2007 - 02:42pm PT
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Back on mt wilson FA. Al says we're going to take the fast way up. we're going to take the catwalk. Whos in? The Mule says no way, i'm out. Bike Rack says I have a bad shoulder. I'm out too. I'm like I'll join you I'm not gonna get wet in that damn waterfall. Next thing I know we're on the catwalk. The gully 50ft down is filled with yucca plants. I look down thinking if I fall I'm going to get stabbed by those yucca's. aint no way anyone can survive that. the catwalk is a shear face straight and straight down with a horizontal crack about waist high that is sandy and chossy. there is about a 1" wide slopey ledge to use for feet. Al dances across the catwalk and goes around the corner. I'm thinking Maaan, on monday I have that meeting at work. The oracle cluster will need to be brought online and production databases moved over... A bunch of time goes by and I hear...Hey Chris, are you still there? I'm like yea, I was thinking about work.
So in my Lowa's I cross the catwalk. scariest two moves i've ever made in my life... The whole time my mind was on falling into the yucca's, nevermind the fact of falling, lol.
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Tahoe climber
Trad climber
a dark-green forester out west
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May 15, 2007 - 03:46pm PT
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jerr:
Man, I've been on Sea of Holes, and that wind sure does blow up that thing! I've been on it and been lifted off my feet by that wind - and it frequently turns your chalk bag upside down, too!
And the descent in the dark can be a touch sketch, too!
For those of you that don't know, it's in Hueco Tanks, near a corner in the North Mountain area. It goes at 5.10, and Jerr's right - Mike Head put it up, free solo. It's bolted, but still a trad route! First bolt is 45 feet off the deck! 2 pitches, with the crux about 2/3ds up P2.
Classic route!
I, uh, didn't free solo it.
But I did solo Bear's Reach at Lover's Leap, on my 30th birthday. It wasn't sketch, though - every move, calm and collected. Straight up in the zone! One of my very favorite memories.
-Aaron
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John Vawter
Social climber
San Diego
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May 15, 2007 - 07:01pm PT
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The Idyllwild thread reminded me of a day I spent at Tahquitz in 1999 trying to get in 35 “pitches” to get ready for Dark Star. I started on White Maiden Direct with chimney start and the 5.3 exit, then the East Lark. On the East Lark there was a man and his young son to my right. He made a friendly comment about my old Fires, and I told him they were my favorite shoes. I was about 40 or 50 feet up and as I replied to him the hold I weighted came off in my hand and I started to pitch. I recovered but it scared the hell out of me because I realized that by listening and replying I had taken my mind off what I was doing. But I kept going and once they were behind me I felt focused and in control again.
I did the North Buttress/Uneventful combo next, then the Maiden Direct again, and finally the Long Climb with the 5.8 start. I had another scare above the Mummy Crack. I couldn’t commit to the blind reach on the 5.7 overhang. I backed down and found a way around on the right and came back in just above the overhang. Further up at the wedge shaped block near the top, I watched a guy above me make the insecure face move on the left side of the wedge. I climbed up to look at it, but couldn’t bring myself to try. Discretion being . . . . I finished by climbing way right then up to the shoulder, and to the top again for the fifth time that day.
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crazy horse
Trad climber
fresno, ca
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May 15, 2007 - 10:59pm PT
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I have a tradition to solo the tree route on Dome Rock naked every year during the big SSCA (Southern Sierra Climbers Association) slideshow in June. One year when I was about 130' off the ground a lizard came out of the crack, and I was startled to the point that both my hands came off and I was on only a jam and a smear!!! Luckily I am a footwork maestro and pulled it off only to swear not to solo anymore. Animals freak me out when I don't know they're coming.
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Joe Terravecchia
Trad climber
Lebanon, Maine
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May 16, 2007 - 07:30pm PT
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As a young climber in the mid 70's, I was fascinated with the with the Tetons and especially the North Face of the Grand with it's rich history. My first trip west from NH was straight to Jackson on a Greyhound .
In the mid 90's I free soloed the north face of the Grand . I had beautiful weather but conditions on the top 1000', above the first ledge were exciting to say the least for this lad. The previous days thunderstorm had coated the upper face in an 1/8th inch or so of crystal clear verglas. The 5.8 pendulum pitch and especially the traverse into the V were decidedly desperate. At the start of the traverse into the V I had a good, dry, right hand jamb in the back of an otherwise very slick and icy-walled crack and was about to move left when both feet and then my left hand cut loose off of icy holds. Fairy exposed there, and with rock shoes paddling on ice was mighty exciting. A loud chorus inside said "Run away !" but down climbing 2000 ft seemed like a lot of work. I regained composure and like an idiot continued on to finish the climb, but not without more excitement at the last move on the face, an icy mantle to easier ground. Made the summit by noon and enjoyed a nice lunch with a big group that had come up the Exum. Wonderful to bask in the warm sun. Alive.
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Rick A
climber
Boulder, Colorado
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May 27, 2007 - 10:49am PT
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Lots of amazing stories here, thanks all.
Two masterpieces of climbing writing that feature soloing are Largo’s “The Only Blasphemy”, which deals with the folly of competitive soloing and Jim Perrin’s “ Coronation Street.” The latter describes a common theme of soloing stories, the consequences of breaking the soloing rhythm, allowing the terrible penalty for failure to flood the mind, and the resulting paralysis.
Here is my story.
When the Stonemasters visited Tahquitz in the old days, we had a list of projects to try almost from day one, so even by the middle seventies I still had many of the established Tahquitz jewels to do, including the first climb at the crag to earn the YDS 5.9 rating, the wonderful Open Book. At some point,I had resolved to myself that I would save the Open Book for an onsight solo.
One day, Tobin, John and I were fooling around at the base of the South Face and the time was right. I mentioned my ambition to free solo the Book and minutes later, Johnny, Tobin and I were starting up as a group solo (a contradiction in terms?), Largo in the lead. We got past the crux down low, each in his own focused world, no talk between us; but once we were securely established in the main crack, we were back to the usual bantering and cruised the rest of the way up.
We got down the trail and I was still high from the exhilaration of having soloed one of Tahquitz’ finest. I suggested we try another one none of us had ever done, the Mechanic’s Route. Now we all knew this was a face climb, but it was only 5.8, so how hard could it be? And we were all completely comfortable and solid on the Tahquitz/ Suicide granite. John declined in order to check out another project, so I started up, Tobin right behind me.
We motored up to what was clearly the crux, a simple, frictiony high step, but fiercely exposed. I dip my hands in the white courage, take a deep breath and remind myself that its only 5.8. I step up, over-gripping a bit and smearing the EBs VERY carefully. “Whewww… That seemed insecure for 5.8”, I think to myself. I get to a safe spot to watch Tobin.
Tobin steps up to the the crux and stops. He makes a tentative try at the key step, but backs down. He furrows his brow a bit, tries it again and backs down again. This is not like Tobin at all and now it’s me who is hit with the Fear. What if the unthinkable happened and Tobin slipped off a couple feet away, in front of my eyes? For a moment, I can see in Tobin’s eyes that he has met the soloist’s bane, that loss of rhythm that breaks down the barrier between focusing on the moves and the consequences.
“You got it man, it’s only 5.8,” I say.
Tobin shakes out a bit, and this time steps smoothly up, as if he were a foot off the ground.
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east side underground
Trad climber
crowley ca
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Dec 25, 2008 - 05:01pm PT
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my story is not technically a "solo" but here it is. I was taking a lady friend climbing, who had never climbed before in the meadows. I decided on the great white book since I had soloed it before ,since my partner had no belay experince. I was running the rope out with no pro on the "book" up to the point where the route moves over the dihedral. As I'm making the move I'm thinking this is strange it seams harder than usual. As it turns out, I made the move about 60 ft or so too soon ( dumbass, thinking about her ass not mine!!!) I get over the dihedral to a small foothold. There is a slight bulge with a bit of black lichen. I see the correct spot I should be up above, and think, ok just keep it cool you'll be fine. I start up over the "crux", make a few moves then to my surprise I start to grease off the lichen. So I start to slide. I'm clawing to stay in control as I'm slipping, I reach over and grap the small hold as I'm sliding by. I mantel the hold and get back on the stance. Fueled by fear. not thinking I fly up the rock as fast as I can to the belay. Once clipped in the realization of killing myself, and my friend sets in. I try to remain calm and act as if nothing has happed when my partner arrives at the belay. Never did tell her what happened. What a idiot!!! My moto " better lucky than good!!!"
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tom woods
Gym climber
Bishop, CA
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Dec 25, 2008 - 05:59pm PT
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How about a good solo story?
I like soloing, but I'm bad at it, and getting worse as the years go on.
Anyway, it was a day like today, snowing in Bishop and I was getting a bit of cabin fever so I headed to the buttermilks to look around.
Can't go looking around without shoes can you? The snow was light and hadn't yet stuck to much as I headed to something in the old orange guide labeld wall of 21 cracks.
With a name like that how could it be bad? I wouldn't call it good, but a good time can be had there for sure.
I did a few easy cracks, 30 to 40 feet high then headed for an obvious chimney on the tier of rock above.
I think I'll climb the chimney with light snow in the air and no one knowing where I am, but when I get up into I find all sorts of fins, knobs, and huecos on the wall. It's sort of like red rocks. I climb those fins to top, where getting off requires a jump into a sandy gully.
A 60 foot climb on good rock at a low grade in the snow and it's one of my favorite climbing memories.
I headed to peabodies after word, where I had the place to myself.
Tom
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nutjob
climber
Berkeley, CA
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Bump
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corniss chopper
Mountain climber
san jose, ca
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Mt Clarence King - alone... I took my gloves off to do the summit mantle, but the bulge they made in my coat pocket caught on the lip, when I jumped, and I slid down into that awful slot!
One leg actually went out the hole before I caught myself!
2nd try was cake, but OMG times a million.
It was 20 yrs ago and it still seems like yesterday. while the summit view and the wind noise are sort of vague.
And no I couldn't bring myself to actually stand up.
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Mark Hudon
Trad climber
Hood River, OR
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Peter,
Didn't you and me and maybe Dave D solo the Line at Lover's Leap on mushrooms once?
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Double D
climber
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Mark... You and Peter did the line whilst Eric Barret and I did another 5.6 deal to the left...can't remember the name but good times.
The shrooms??? Can't remember but wouldn't be surprised.
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hashbro
Trad climber
Mental Physics........
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Speakin' of Double D and shrooms...
Remember Moratorium Dave?
We shroomed before the rappel and laid in the meadow for hours looking upwards at what we had just done....
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Brutus of Wyde
climber
Old Climbers' Home, Oakland CA
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Royal Arches: A Casual Climb in the Valley
The valley is an endless sunlit
chasm far below. I cower on a muddy,
grassy hummock in the middle of a
smooth slab and briefly consider my
options. Far away, nearly halfway
down the wall, a team is working on
the pendulum pitch. Waiting for them to
catch up and lead this last pitch may
take up to four hours. Another
option is to bail from the climb. I
look again at the 80 feet of slab
between me and the beckoning forest
at the rim.
The penji pitch should have provided
warning. After the pendulum, the
supposed-4th-class traverse was in
the middle of a 4" sheet waterfall. the
clear, shockingly cold water
churned over my arms as I clawed
beneath the current for holds. My
climbing shoes instantly filled with
water. Each move was a struggle both
against gravity, and against the
atrociously poor adhesion that the
streaming sheets of liquid provided.
Eighty feet: Eighty feet between
where I stand, and an easy stroll
down the descent.
How hard? 5.4? 5.6?
The rock here is completely covered
with, and shimmers beneath, a thin
veneer of running water.
Each rugosity of the smooth slab,
every wrinkle and rough spot, has
provided a substrate for scum and
algae growth. The south-facing
exposure of this slab has provided
sunlight, the minerals from the
warm water draining over the rim have
provided nourishment, and the result
is a surface similar in quality and
appearance to a playground slide
coated with rancid bacon grease.
The third option is one on which I
do not dwell. Imagination all-to-
vividly provides a stop-motion
strobe-lit image of a body
accelerating down the slick rock,
past trees and soil just out of
arm's reach, blurring streak of color
hurtling out into space, out of
control, all options gone, forever,
ruining the afternoon for everyone
on the climb below me.
Chalk hands. Oh-so-carefully lift
each foot, dry the sole of each
Kaukulator, chalk the rubber,
replace the foot on
the slime-covered rock.
Left foot moves. Focused attention
to the minutiae. Scrape a hold with
wet high-tech rubber to clear off
the slick algae. Lift the foot,
carefully balancing, and cake chalk
onto the sole. Transfer chalk to the
hold. The result is a hold that, for
30 seconds or so until water creeps
back into its territory, will
support my terrified being above the
hungry sunlit void as I scrape the
next hold and chalk, pants getting
too muddy to dry the shoes palms
slicking across the greasy granite
sunlit space stop-motion-strobe-lit-
imagedon'tthinkaboutthat
Dry stretch of rock, one foot square,
with an accomodating wrinkle. Halfway there.
Ahead is a thin undercling flake and
more wet rock, (but less algae,) the
forest closer than ever before,
individual grains of soil visible;
chest clenched in a giant fist,
relax, breathe, no mistakes now...
I step down on to the dirt and pine
needles of the forest floor. Sob.
Laugh. Shout. Take another deep breath,
walk up to the spring and get a
drink. Look back over the slab, turn
my back, and start the descent,
tucking climbing shoes and chalkbag
into the daypack. Casual.
End
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cliffhanger
Trad climber
California
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There are 2 ways to traverse to the forest on the finish of Royal Arches. What looks like the obvious way, keeping low, and with about 80' of 5.7 slab, is the way most parties go. But by keeping very high you can find very easy blocky traversing to a short 15' section of 5.4 slab to the forest.
Impressive solo with running water and scum!
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Double D
climber
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hashbro... yeah but I never swallowed!
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RyanD
climber
Squamish
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The Brutus of Wyde story right there was amazing.
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Avery
climber
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I came to grief soloing on Temple Buttress which is in Arthur's Pass National Park, New Zealand.
The day dawned iffy with low cloud and mist sweeping Mt Temple. Out of sheer boredom I decided to have a "look" around the bottom of the buttress in the vague hope of salvaging something from a disappointing weekend.
When the mist cleared I decided to solo the right hand side of the main buttress. Although the rock was loose the climbing was straight forward, around 14/15 at the most. At about roughly 100ft the mist returned with a vengeance with visibility down to about 5 or 6ft. Deciding this was no longer much fun I traversed left to easier ground when all of a sudden my feet went from under me. It left me almost free hanging. I looked down just long enough to see where I might fall. Then my strength deserted me and I was forced to let go. I remember two landings, one as I bounced off the rock with the second fall ending on the ground at the base of the buttress. I reckon I fell about 70ft
For a few moments my head was swirling and being momentarily terrified I screamed out "help me", why I don't know for there was no one around. I stumbled about in the mist for a while not really knowing where I was. Then I decided to follow the river witch drained the basin. It was only when I attempted to use my right hand that I realized it was broken. It was bent in a pronounced "L" shape and virtually useless.
After what seemed liked an eternity I stumbled onto the main road and attempted to thumb a ride. By this time my right leg was so painful that I could barely use it. Anyway, some kind souls picked me up and I eventually ended up at Christchurch Hospital
It turned out that the only thing I broke was my wrist. The bruising was so severe however that I was quite literally purple/black from the waist down.
The time was February 1988 and I gave up serious climbing, without a particle of regret. That was the biggest surprise of all.
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rick sumner
Trad climber
reno, nevada/ wasilla alaska
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In my days of youth, some forty years ago now, long days of soloing were a regular passion. The Leap was ideal for putting in mega footage with its easy approaches and perrenial stream atop to slake ones thirst. Eleven or twelve routes would constitute near a vertical mile. I was at home on the rock here, the proliferation of dikes made for near effortless cruising over most of the walls. One typical day I started midmorning with the Groove as the approach to the upper wall and April Fools. Above the jamcrack pitch I was on new ground somewhere in the vicinity of the Dead Tree Direct. Negotiating a steep headwall via smallish dikes, I had my right handhold and corresponding foothold snap simultaneously. It would have been an ugly 500 foot groundfall with a couple of dismembering bounces if it not for my third point of contact with the left hand crimphold. I easily found another foothold and climbed through with little to no alarm, but after topping out I walked down ending my day early.
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phylp
Trad climber
Millbrae, CA
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These are all scary sobering stories.
I'm glad to see this bumped.
I had my right handhold and corresponding foothold snap simultaneously. (Shudder)
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Reilly
Mountain climber
The Other Monrovia- CA
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There are unscary solos?
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ydpl8s
Trad climber
Santa Monica, California
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A person I would like to hear from on this thread is SicMic. I'm sure he has some interesting tales about soloing in Eldo. He hung out a lot with Derek Hersey, solo'd The Rotwand Wall more than anyone, led Supremacy Crack in flip flops..............
Sic Mic?
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ms55401
Trad climber
minneapolis, mn
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cool post, base, hearing about those halcyon days that will never exist ever again
I have had some involved soloing stories, but man I really almost bought it downclimbing from the Piute Crags in darkness... Grade 4 choss that literally disintegrated with any downward weight applied
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scooter
climber
fist clamp
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One time I almost fell. Barely caught myself. Pretty f-ing scary....What else is there to tell in a scary solo story?
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Sierra Ledge Rat
Mountain climber
Old and Broken Down in Appalachia
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I've got a few, been told before.
I soloed the West Face of the Leaning Tower in winter. Being an idiot, I accidentally dropped my bivy gear while setting up my hammock right below the big roof. Spent one really f*#king cold night in the hammock, then climbed in a mad frenzy to top off the next day. That night the storm was so bad that another solo climber on El Cap froze to death. I am lucky to have survived that ordeal.
I free-soloed a multi-pitch class 5 buttress on Mount Evans in Colorado that was in the 5.8 range. Normally I do not climb anything that I cannot down-climb, but in this case I was very close to the summit and I didn't see anything that would prevent me from summitting. So I free-soloed a tricky, steep face with small holds, and the sequence was a bit complicated. I got a little higher and ran into an impassible corner in the shade that was smeared in ice and verglass. So I had to down-clmb the route.
The tricky face climbing proved to be too difficult for me to down-climb. Ever reach a point where you realize that if you stand there for very much longer you are going to loose your strength and fall? But the climbing is so hard that you'll fall anyway? I kept trying to down-climb the face, and climbing back up a small stance to rest - over and over and over.
I finally reached a point where it was "Do or die" and so I down-climbed the face. WHEW! About 15 feet from the ground I lost my concentration and fell and broke my ankle and crawled to my car.
One more. Not sure if you consider "solo." But I was walking down the Kahiltna Glacier on Denali by myself, going back to camp to get another load. I punched through the surface to my waist, and my legs were dangling below me. I wasn't that worried - yet. I pushed back and looked down the hole, and saw that I was out in the middle of a 20-foot wide crevasse with vertical walls that went down into the abyss. THAT scared me.
Now when I have climbing nightmares, it's usually about free-soloing and losing my grip and falling.
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overwatch
climber
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Apparently nothing for you, Scooter.
Some good write ups on this thread.
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Reilly
Mountain climber
The Other Monrovia- CA
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It was all good on the winter north face solo, until the slab with maybe a half inch of ice on it.
I guess it went, I hardly remember.
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SicMic
climber
across the street from Marshall
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Dec 22, 2014 - 02:05pm PT
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Two stories come to mind. The first was underclinging right and making a move over a little lip. As I got my hands onto some holds above the lip, both feet cut loose. Not willing to watch myself plunge to my death, I shut my eyes but miraculously held on. I promised myself not to freak out until I got to the summit. Managed to hold it together until I got back to the ground.
The other was arriving at a roof/slot and not liking the holds or sequence. So I moved to the left in an effort to avoid the problem. Ended up around the corner on the feature and faced with 5.10 moves to try to reestablish onto the route proper. Taking a fall back there would've meant waiting a long time to have the body recovered.
Honorable mention to getting three pitches up on a route and finding the crack there soaking wet. Got to face-climb out to the right, bumping the difficulty about two grades.
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Scole
Trad climber
Zapopan
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I see that this is an old thread that has been resurrected. I wish I could say that about some of the people who posted here that are no longer with us.
My solo climbing tale of terror happened on a 1987 trip to Patagonia with Paul Gagner and Walt Shipley to climb a route on the West face of Cerro Torre.
We arrived in perfect weather and opted to climb the Compressor rt immediately rather than wasting the weather window carrying loads. The climb was pretty uneventful and we summited our chief objective on day 6 of a 3 month trip.
We waited out a couple of weeks of storm, then started casting about for other objectives. Paul and Walt wanted to climb Fitz-Roy, but I figured once was enough. My eye was on Aguja de le S which, at the time, was unclimbed.
Paul and Walt took off for the Super Canaleta in the morning and I took my time preparing for a solo. I packed a small rack with a few nuts, a set of friends and 5 pins plus a couple of ice screws, then headed for a bivy at the base. At 2 a.m. I started up the gully between the Aguja and Mojon Rojo, which Bridwell had climbed previously. As the gully steepened into a couloir and the climbing began the light started to improve, and I could see that the rock on the start of my proposed route was a series of overlapping slabs of loose shale.
I faced a quick decision: Climb my proposed route and FA of a peak, or climb the good looking rock on the right on a previously climbed peak. I quickly switched my objective and continued up the couloir past Bridwell's route on Mojon Rojo. A dank slot branched of the main couloir and I started roped climbing there on some easy rock and mixed which gradually steepened to vertical.
After 5 rope lengths on my doubled 100m 9mm, I reached a shoulder where the real climbing began. I followed cracks and corners for a few more rope lengths then reached the base of a large slab. I went to a single strand on my rope and lead off. The rock was fantastic but offered almost no protection. I placed a couple of RPs before reaching a small arch where a #2 friend fit perfectly. A small 5.9 traverse put me at the base of a second arch with a blank seam in the back. I tied off a thin kb and kept going, hoping to find an anchor before my 100m was up.
The end of the rope was getting closer and closer and I still couldn't find any gear until I was at the end. Not sure what to do, and knowing I couldn't down climb, I started searching frantically for an anchor. About 10' above me I spotted a blade crack and a tiny ledge. The climbing was not too hard, but being 50m above pro alone on a Patagonian wall mistakes were not an option, so I slowly worked the puzzle out until I could reach the ledge. By now I was fighting major rope stretch and could not move up, but the crack, and my only hope, was still 5' above me. I desperation I hooked my axe on the ledge and used a prusik to haul the rope even tighter till I could get enough slack to put one foot onto the ledge.
I fumbled for a blade, dropped the first one, then found a bugaboo. At full extension I wedged the tip in, then tried for my hammer which was on the wrong hip. Finally I was able to work the hammer free, and after a few gentle taps, started to weld the pin to the eye.
Ringing steel never sounded so good! With a deep sigh I clipped the only piece in reach after a 110 meter pitch on a 100 m rope with three pieces of gear. Twenty minutes later I was composed enough to search for a second piece for my anchor and eventually spotted a nut placement 10' higher. I tied all my remaining slings together, tied myself to the end, and untied the rope so I could complete an anchor.
The remaining pitches followed ramps and corners to the summit block. I used two points of aid at a small roof, the only aid on the route. I free soloed up and down the 5.8 summit block, then rested before the hard part.
My descent options involved rapping into the unknown or traversing the peak and descending the glacier into Rio Blanco. As I only had about ten pieces of gear total, and the raps were unknown I chose the glacier. The first hundred meters went well when I suddenly fell up to my armpits in a bottomless blue hole. I fired into an iron cross and somehow managed to fling myself back up onto the glacier: I still have no idea how I made it out, but somehow I did.
The next eight hours were spent probing every inch of the way. Many times I was forced to retreat when I encountered dead ends until finally I was within 20 m of solid ground. I searched for some time before realizing that my only way to reach the rocks was to cross a huge sagging bridge across the bergschrund. I found the steepest part and glissaded flat on my back (while thinking very light thoughts) until I hit the bottom: When my feet touched the bottom of the bridge I used my momentum to tilt up and sunk both tools into the ice on the other side as chunks of the bridge disappeared into the giant hole that opened up beneath me.
I wandered down the rocks until I reached a terminal moraine where everything I touched roared off down into the gorge beneath me, threatening to take me with it. Several hours of carefully picking my way down eventually put me on solid ground and soon I saw the first vegetation. Things got greener and greener and I finally reached Rio Blanco.
There was a rumor back then that a shortcut existed between Rio Blanco and the Torre Valley where our camp was, but no one had actually used it. There was a choice of walking down to El Chalten, then back up the Torre Valley but I wanted to get home so I chose the shortcut which began with a tiny track through high grass and lead through meadows and patches of forest until it ran out in a swamp. I looked and looked in the dark, but could find no dry way to reach the ground I hoped was near.By this time I was to tired to care, so I waded in still wearing my harness and double boots. My headlamp picked out hummocks of grass and the occasional tree in the distance. Mid way across the swamp I saw eyes on a grass hummock. My headlamp revealed an adult Puma (Mountain Lion) licking its paws 10 meters away. I suddenly felt very naked and alone, stuck up to my knees in mud with only my ice tools(still holstered) for defense. The cat paid no attention to me, and I suddenly felt very energized and completed the swamp crossing in record time.
The remainder of the hike was a gentle stroll in the dark until it began to get light as I hit the Torre Valley and the trail home. It was a great adventure, one I will never forget. Chances are good that no one will ever find a single fixed bugaboo in the middle of no where on Mojon Rojo, but if they do I hope they enjoyed the climb.
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Steve Grossman
Trad climber
Seattle, WA
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Apr 28, 2017 - 07:13pm PT
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Bump for the Big Lonesome as Largo would say...
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NutAgain!
Trad climber
South Pasadena, CA
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Holy moly, nobody wanted to post up weaksauce after Scott's story. That is pretty bad to the bone on multiple fronts.
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ß Î Ø T Ç H
Boulder climber
ne'er–do–well
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Oct 31, 2017 - 11:35pm PT
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Muir's FA of Mt. Ritter ...I was suddenly brought to a dead stop, with arms outspread, clinging close to the face of the rock, unable to move hand or foot either up or down. My doom appeared fixed. I must fall. There would be a moment of bewilderment, and then a lifeless rumble down the one general precipice to the glacier below.
When this final danger flashed upon me, I became nerve-shaken for the first time since setting foot on the mountains, and my mind seemed to fill with a stifling smoke. But this terrible eclipse lasted only a moment, when life blazed forth again with preternatural clearness. I seemed suddenly to become possessed of a new sense. The other self, bygone experiences, Instinct, or Guardian Angel,--call it what you will,--came forward and assumed control. Then my trembling muscles became firm again, every rift and flaw in the rock was seen as through a microscope, and my limbs moved with a positiveness and precision with which I seemed to have nothing at all to do. Had I been borne aloft upon wings, my deliverance could not have been more complete.
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AP
Trad climber
Calgary
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Back in 1987 Jeff, one of the local lads, was feeling good about his ice climbing skills so he decided to solo Polar Circus (grade 5) and the complete Weeping Wall (grade 6) in a day. Polar Circus went well and so did Weeping Wall until one of the last pitches.
The Upper Weeping Wall is known for having some vertical shitty ice.
At one point Jeff was standing on a mushroom while making an axe placement.
The mushroom cut loose leaving him hanging from the other axe.
The axe tip ripped through 6 inches of shitty ice before stopping.
Jeff quickly fired in the other axe, regained his composure, then climbed to the top.
For the next few weeks he would wake up with nightmares about that incident.
I was in Squamish with Bruce and Jacquie in 1990. We decided to do some simusoloing on a slabby cliff. I was on a 5.9+, Bruce was on a 10a 10 feet to the right and Jacquie was on a 10b 10 feet to the right of Bruce. We were all engaged in crux moves 25 or 30 feet up when Jacquie blows. Bruce and I see her falling and landing in a big bush.
She yells up "I'm OK"
Now Bruce and I have to finesse our crux moves thinking of Jacquie. We finished off our routes and spent the rest of the day climbing with ropes.
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Tarbuster
climber
right here, right now
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Scott Cole wrote:
When my feet touched the bottom of the bridge I used my momentum to tilt up and sunk both tools into the ice on the other side as chunks of the bridge disappeared into the giant hole that opened up beneath me. Never heard that story from you. Thanks for the write up. World-class adventure!
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Steve Grossman
Trad climber
Seattle, WA
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Jan 20, 2018 - 07:42pm PT
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Bump for the High Lonesome...
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mynameismud
climber
backseat
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Jan 20, 2018 - 08:15pm PT
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I was free soling 5.10 at the Pinnacles...
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clinker
Trad climber
Santa Cruz, California
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Jan 20, 2018 - 08:24pm PT
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I was free soling 5.10 at the Pinnacles...
No doubt something was loose.
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| Messages 1 - 166 of total 166 in this topic |
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