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Rick A
climber
Boulder, Colorado
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Topic Author's Original Post - Sep 8, 2007 - 12:27pm PT
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This is a more or less contemporaneous account that I wrote after participating in the Locke rescue attempt mentioned in Jerry Dodrill’s thread. I cleaned it up a little bit, but it is pretty much as I wrote it 30 years ago.
Tobin Sorenson on the South Face of Mt. Watkins. Sheraton Watkins below and left.
Yosemite Lodge Cafeteria; 6:00 PM
Staring at the grease that floats on my cup of coffee, I’m not in a good mood. Didn’t get much done on this trip: retreated off El Cap, somebody ran over my rope in the parking lot, and it rained for days at a time. But still, it’s better than being in the city… maybe I’ll find a job in Mammoth for the winter and put off returning to LA.
I should have spent more time up in Tuolumne. It’s so much better there: distant horizons instead of confining walls; fewer people and more beautiful than the valley; domes that have been glacier- polished to a golden sheen instead of the slate- grey shades below. Thoughts drift to a route last summer…sitting on the edge of an improbable lake, set like a diamond on the very summit of a Tuolumne dome, giddy with delight after the climb that ended on its shores. The crux sequence was so intricate and absorbing that the replays of it were enough to make me smile for months afterward.
Richard Harrison comes over.
“Hey, Ricky, they want you at the cache.”
“What for?
“Rescue on Mt. Watkins.”
I walk over, pleased with the prospects. If it’s like the last one, it’ll be great. What fun that was, helicopter rides up and down Half Dome… sitting on top for hours eating Park Service food and enjoying the view while we tended the ropes… laughing at how, in a matter of hours, we had been magically transformed in official eyes from “C4B’s” (Camp four bums) to respected and indispensable rescue experts. The rescue had been a great success—a couple of wet and cold climbers had been safely pulled off the Northwest Face, and a good time was had by all concerned. It was also a nice bonus to receive the Park Service check that arrived in the mail, including an extra buck an hour for “hazard pay”. Like the unemployment checks the C4B’s picked up in Fresno, it was truly a “government climbing grant.”
At the rescue cache, a few Camp 4 regulars are already there, sifting through the Park Service stash of climbing equipment. I learn that the rangers were looking for me because I climbed the South Face of Mt.Watkins recently with Tobin and Gib, and they need fresh knowledge of that route. Chris is there and it takes a few minutes before I realize that he was one of the climbers involved in the accident, and has run here from Mt. Watkins to start the rescue. I don’t recognize the name that is repeated, but Chris reports that he fell a long way and the decision is made to attempt to reach Chris’ partner, Bob Locke, known as “Bobo,” tonight.
Above the Valley; 11:00 pm.
As the old Bell helicopter labors to rise over the lights of the Ahwhanee Hotel and switchbacks toward the mass of Half Dome, my nervousness at takeoff is forgotten as I try to absorb as much as I can of a staggeringly beautiful sight. Inside the glass bubble of the cockpit, I am surrounded by familiar granite faces on every side, each one softly glowing in the moonlight.
Dale Bard, Mike Graham and Ranger Dan are already on top and we quickly get to work hauling ropes to the edge of the great, 3,000 foot South Face. It feels like we’re on an alien planet, as we stand together on the luminous granite slabs that slope toward the lip, our voices echoing “Bobo” as we call in unison into the abyss…No answer, but we are still far above him. The sound of the helicopter returns and we set to work rigging the lowering operation.
Top of Mt. Watkins; 2:00 a.m.
After hours of preparation, we are finally ready to lower Dale, who has a walkie-talkie, medical supplies, extra ropes and climbing gear hanging all over him. Everyone else is in position to handle the two 1,200 foot ropes. John Dill, the ranger in charge, is on the radio coordinating our actions with Dale’s instructions, while also talking to the pilot of a Coast Guard C-130. The huge plane circles every few minutes to provide brief periods of illumination from a giant “Carolina Moon” search light.
The whole crew is working efficiently and is in high spirits. As Dale rappels slowly over the lip--one thick line for the rappel, the other for the belay-- the climber in him cannot be contained , and the radio crackles, “ Man, you should see these jam cracks!”
After many fraught moments listening to Dale’s instructions on the radio as he inches his way down the face, he is getting closer and has to pendulum to reach a ledge about 200 feet directly above Bobo. Finally, Dale reports, “I’m turfed out at Sheraton Watkins.” The Rangers look at us quizzically and we translate: he’s reached the spacious ledge at the midpoint of the face, named by the first ascent team, Chouinard, Pratt and Harding.
Dale reports that Bobo does not answer his calls. No more jokes and sarcasm now; we all lean forward from the our positions on the rope line to hear the exchanges between John Dill and Dale on the radio. Another few moments, then Dale loud and clear,
“He’s dead. I’m coming back up.”
Dill breaks a long silence, “Wait Dale, are you sure?”
Dale is a friend of Bobo and he explodes,“ There’s no pulse, he is not breathing, his skin is cold, and he stinks…yeah… I’m sure.”
We pull the belay rope up as Dale ascends back to Sheraton Watkins.
It was the plan that I would descend next, but it seems pointless now. It’s about 3:00 AM and I’m about to voice my doubts about whether this is really necessary when the radio erupts again,
“Send Rick down, I’m not spending the night here alone.”
There is a tone in Dale’s voice that no one wants to argue with, so I get ready for the long rappel. My mind is now thankfully occupied as I’m lowered over the edge. Dale’s headlamp is a tiny beacon in the black depths as I ride down, slowly spinning. On the ledge, we cover ourselves with a sleeping bag and exhaustion brings sleep without further thought.
Sheraton Watkins; 6:00 AM
The morning dawns flat and grey, but Dale and I are unaware of it. We are dead to the world on our tiny, horizontal island within a vast vertical sea of granite, as the sun rises up the canyon. Suddenly, we are startled awake by the deafening roar of jet engines and the guttural thump of rotor blades. We open our eyes to the sinister, olive drab nose and cockpit of a military helicopter facing us, hovering 100 feet away at eye level. We turn on the radios and learn that Dill sent the helicopter to wake us; we had turned them off before going to sleep.
Dale and I get ready to descend to start the job of putting the body in the litter. I am anxious and unsure how I’ll react. I’ve always been acutely aware of the risk of dying in the mountains, but I have never handled a dead body. We rig parallel rappels and lower off the ledge together. Chris had tied Bobo into a sleeping bag on a two-feet-wide ledge, supplied with food and water. When we get even with the ledge, I recognize a face I’ve seen before around Camp 4, but I didn’t know his name before now. The brightly- colored ropes and slings that surround Bobo seem horribly out of place. The rock shoes, chalk bag and big-wall rack, always to me the implements of fun and adventure, seem profoundly sad now.
Dale and I silently get Bobo into the litter, faces masked by bandanas. My mind is un-tethered from the task at hand and a realization comes to me with terrible clarity:
“climbing is not worth this; it’s all useless..” I’m dazed and empty as we watch the litter rise towards the summit.
We descend on automatic pilot: rappel, find anchors, pull and thread the ropes, wait for the whistling that signals that the rope is free of snags, repeat. After many rappels and scrambling down the lower slabs, we reach the ground. Even the new experience of climbing onto a large boulder near the river, and then clambering onto the skid of the hovering Navy helicopter cannot not raise my spirits.
Valley Floor; 6:00 pm
Back at the rescue cache, the team is offered congratulations and beer. The talk is subdued, but punctuated by excited exclamations as we recall amazing sights and helicopter maneuvers. Then, awkward silence, as we notice a somber man talking to the rangers. “Bobo’s father,” someone whispers.
I head straight for my tent and sleep until late morning. At the cafeteria, the talk slowly returns to the usual: A3+ aid pitches , new free routes, future projects, but it all has a hollow ring to me. I leave my friends in the cafeteria and decide to drive home to LA. But I make up my mind to take the long route, up into the high country, through Tuolumne Meadows.
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graham
Social climber
Ventura, California
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I'll transfer this from the other thread.
Chris Falkenstein’s amazing effort in his descent and sprint to park headquarters set the pace for this effort. The only helicopter available that night on the few minutes notice was a small Bell 47 and not having much “useful load” we had to shuttle in pairs to get to the top of Mt. Watkins. This first photo gives you the feeling of the slope landing with only lanterns for markers. The pilot joked on my trip it was his first night flight but I think he did that on every leg to break the ice with his passengers. Must have done it a dozen times that night
This is a shot under the Carolina Moon
This was our ride home the next day.
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J. Werlin
climber
Cedaredge
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Heavy duty piece Rick. Enjoyed it immensely. Well done.
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seamus mcshane
climber
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Rick-Sad tale. Good writing. Great pic of Tobin.
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graham
Social climber
Ventura, California
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Really good and sobering story Rick.
I never thought it was the best idea to send Dale down there first he an Bob were too close. It was really hard on him that night and hard to listen to.
Mike
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nick d
Trad climber
nm
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Thank you very much for sharing those thoughts and experiences. Even though we are total strangers (mostly) the common bond we all share is defined by a willingness to submit ourselves to be tested. Not all of us will pass the tests, but all of us will learn from the lessons. Thanks again.
Michael Smith
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Michael Kennedy
Social climber
Carbondale, Colorado
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Rick and Mike,
Thanks for posting. Very sad and moving. Kudos to all involved for the selfless work. And a good reminder that we all walk close to the edge whether we know it or not.
Michael Kennedy
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Jaybro
Social climber
The West
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Wow Rick, Mike too. I'd read the account in the AAC acident book or somewhere, but never felt it like while reading that.
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Mighty Hiker
Social climber
Vancouver, B.C.
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Thank you Rick and Mike. Very moving.
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Peter Haan
Trad climber
San Francisco, CA
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I know what you mean, Ricky. In situations like those, in fact it really does seem that climbing or mountaineering is simply not worth it, when friends and good people are killed, usually violently. The losses lasting forever in the hearts of the survivors, for perhaps 80 or more years, and going even further in our literature!
Dave Roberts tries to work on this banner subject in his most recent book, “On the Ridge between Life and Death”, but mostly ends up with a very compelling, intimate and richly textured autobiography. He is not able to answer this question, only pose it over and over again (rightfully I would say) as he reminisces, however expertly, on his amazing life and that of his friends. This question serves as a great axle for him as he writes, though.
If we look at other endeavors, maybe things get righted. For example all of us must know at least a couple people who have been killed on the road, and in thinking of these friends, we don’t come away with the resolution that driving is just not worth it....that we should start walking or using animals to carry us to avoid the terror and nausea of these violent events. We just don’t. We accept the hazard, however tearfully, and get back behind the wheel or on that bus or train.
I ponder this question in the same way everybody else does, is it worth it? But apparently compared to driving, climbing is safer, statistically, however radical it appears! And so taking away the drama, and the tiny arguments about how climbing is optional and could be quitted and driving would be mandatory and must continue, we see that in fact pointless and brutal death surrounds us in all kinds of ways and degrees, always has, and that climbing is not actually as worse or perilous as many of the things that we deeply accept, such as high speed driving or smoking.
So if all things here are more or less in scale, that climbers are not dying in inordinate numbers, by the thousands every month for example, crazily just for sport, and that highway drivers do die, just going on a vacation or to go to the grocery, then we have nothing to complain about that would be unusual, in other words, there is some rationality to our living this way. Human history as zillions of prior writers have noted, has been really very very tough and apparently will continue to be so in ever-changing ways, many irrational; it's a nearly impossible project. What we gain from climbing and mountaineering is so huge in balance with (comparatively) statistically moderate risk that we just keep doing it until our interests lead us elsewhere and we are the better for having been in the sport and art.
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paganmonkeyboy
Trad climber
the blighted lands of hatu
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Thanks Rick for the great read - very sobering. I read it this morning and really didn't know what to say...
I'm curious - do you still feel it's not worth it ? The risks vs the pain the ones that might survive an accident have to face ? I see this thread contrast the Fosset one and I have my own feelings on the risks I take, but that's just me, and I haven't been where you were, not by any means...
Tom
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Jaybro
Social climber
The West
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The thing is that driving is often not a choice.
You don't have to climb; unless you HAVE to climb.
I've had times when I KNEW it wasn't worth it; Jim Adair, Carol Moyers, John Rutt, Derek Hersey, Todd, etc. But, despite that, after all these years, and how much I know better, climbing is the thing I keep coming back to.
I'm not planning to die, anywhere, but the statistics make it look like it will catch up with me, somewhere, somehow. I'd rather be climbing, than doing a lot of things, when the final chess game presents itself.
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nita
climber
chico ca
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Sad Memories..
If my memory serves me..right after this accident/because of this accident, the Park service finally installed emergency phones- at Mirror Lake and Little Yosemite Valley??
WBraun, Does the Park Service offer -grief Counselling- for the SAR Team?
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WBraun
climber
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Yes they do.
I've been forced to attend a couple of them in the past years and they are a nightmare.
The grief Counselors need counseling. (drama queens)
They are dumb for me as I don't need it.
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Jerry Dodrill
climber
Bodega, CA
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"when the final chess game presents itself."
It's always a bummer to find yourself in check, but with each game we hopefully sharpen our abilities. The biggest risk is to not learn the game, and unknowingly find yourself in checkmate.
Thanks for sharing Rick, Mike.
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Rick A
climber
Boulder, Colorado
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Topic Author's Reply - Sep 9, 2007 - 11:08am PT
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Thanks for the comments. I had that in a drawer for thirty years and debated whether it was better left there. That day I certainly felt climbing wasn’t worth it, but that feeling didn’t last long and I voted with my feet: I did my most intense and dangerous climbing after this incident.
I tried to hint at which direction I was heading with the ending of the piece where I was going back up to the meadows, to remind myself of the rewards of climbing. But I still have difficulty balancing these rewards against the devastating impact that one mistake can have on those we would leave behind.
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Rhodo-Router
Gym climber
Otto, NC
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What can you say, you just have to be f%$'n careful up there. And perhaps find other ways to satisfy the need for that out-there feeling when people are counting on you to stick around.
Sometimes other people serve as examples for the rest of us. Tough on them; a good thing for the (current) survivors.
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Chiloe
Trad climber
Lee, NH
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Powerful story and a sobering read on this rainy Sunday morning.
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Ed Hartouni
Trad climber
Livermore, CA
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thanks to Rick and Mike for a deeply moving story. It adds tremendously to the one line explanation of a guidebook climb name...
from the Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam
XLIX
'Tis all Chequer-board of Nights and Days
Where Destiny with Men for Pieces plays:
Hither and thither moves, and mates, and slays
And one by one back in the Closet lays.
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Tarbuster
climber
right here, right now
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Nice job Rick and Mike.
Our rewards are uplifting peak experiences to be sure; while the consequences can be stark, subdued, and dour.
I give great thanks for a fairly extended sojourn among the cliffs with my true friends, as not all of us have been so lucky. Oddly, it all seems to blend: memories of long ago, of yesterday, a feeling of lingering virility today and a fine sense for the hope which flows from “now”.
We are all in it together, whether in part or in whole and we shall more or less pass together.
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Gene
climber
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Sep 10, 2007 - 11:20am PT
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My business partner went to high school with Bob Locke. They were rivals for top seed on the tennis team. Anybody have any good BL tales to share? He should be remembered for more than his tragic demise.
GM
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elcap-pics
climber
Crestline CA
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Sep 10, 2007 - 12:50pm PT
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Thanks for the posts... very moving... if you are around climbing long enough, as I have been, you will have your heart broken many times and perhaps that great saddness is one of the things that make the really good days so special...
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John Vawter
Social climber
San Diego
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Sep 10, 2007 - 01:50pm PT
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Excellent, spare, moving account Rick. Off hand I can't think of a published piece that illustrates the climber's dichotomy so simply, and so well. Your account belongs in an anthology.
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SteveW
Trad climber
The state of confusion
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Jan 25, 2010 - 10:33pm PT
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Rick
Somehow I'd missed this the first time.
A well spoken, very sad story.
We all try not to think of these things,
and the last couple of years has been gruesome.
I wish I could add more, but can only say those that
are gone are missed.
Thanks for sharing.
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bluering
Trad climber
Santa Clara, Ca.
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Jan 25, 2010 - 10:57pm PT
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pretty brutal. Those SAR dudes have to see some gnarly sh#t....
Cheers, Sar guys!
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jstan
climber
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Jan 25, 2010 - 11:05pm PT
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Have to agree with Vawter. This piece needs to be quite generally accessible.
If putting it into the TR section would begin that process, perhaps you should do so.
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pc
climber
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Jan 25, 2010 - 11:22pm PT
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Powerful story. Thanks for sharing.
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Chief
climber
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Jan 25, 2010 - 11:26pm PT
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Rick, thanks for sharing your story.
That was my first trip to the Valley and I clearly remember Bob's death hit everyone pretty hard. Don't know what else to say but thanks for sharing.
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Largo
Sport climber
The Big Wide Open Face
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Jan 25, 2010 - 11:31pm PT
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In 1978, I think about three years after Bob's accident, I did a new route on Watkins with Bridwell, Kauk and Schmitz, which Bridwell named the Bob Locke Memorial Butress. I never knew Bob so the name never made much sense to me. After reading Rick's really excellent story, I'm happy the route - one of the best new walls I ever did - bears Bob's name.
JL
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'Pass the Pitons' Pete
Big Wall climber
like Ontario, Canada, eh?
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Jan 25, 2010 - 11:47pm PT
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I always wondered who Bob Locke was, because of the name of Largo's route. Thank you so much for such a well-written and passionate account.
How did Bob get hurt? Did he take a bad leader fall? Was he climbing the regular route?
Chris Falk - could we please get your take on this?
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Fritz
Trad climber
Hagerman, ID
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Jan 25, 2010 - 11:58pm PT
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Rick: Thank you for sharing a difficult story to tell. I can appreciate the shock, when you suddenly have to deal with death in the mountains.
I had the charmed mountaineering life of "near-misses." The most serious climbing accident I was ever associated with was a friends shattered ankle. It screwed his leg up forever, but we carried him out and felt good about that.
Then in the early 1980's I finally got to see the dark side of "taking chances." I was climbing with a friend along the South Fork Clearwater River in North Idaho. Steve York and I were pioneering a route on a rock formation that looked interesting from the highway.
We were up several leads when we noticed kayakers on the South Fork. That stretch is considered Class 5 water and I had never seen boats on it. Soon the boats were all clustered on the far side of the river. Steve told me: "I've got a bad feeling about this," and I agreed. We started down.
By the time we got to the river, there was an ambulance there, and a county sheriff. Some other climbers had loaned their rope and the kayakers had taken one end of it across the river.
It was explained that one kayaker had taken a long swim and was unconscious on the far side of the river. His companions were doing mouth-to-mouth and closed chest heart massage. The sheriff was whining that no-one had told him the kayaker was on the far side of the river.
Steve and I gave the kayakers a climbing harness and told them to get the first rope tied off up high on a tree trunk, then tie their buddy into our second rope, and we would pull him across in a Tyrolian Traverse. It worked like a charm, and we soon had the unconscious kayaker on our side. I noted he was very blue in the face, but having recently read about miraculous recoveries from "cold water drowning:" I had hope of his survival.
Just as the ambulance guy was shutting the back door of the ambulance after loading the kayaker, I realized the first rope was tied off to the rear wheel of the vehicle.
I went running around the ambulance to the driver, and yelled that we had to get the rope off before he left.
"That’s OK", he said. "There's no hurry."
The kayaker died. Turned out he was the least experienced of a group of eastern U.S. boaters that were testing western rivers. His companions tried to talk him out of boating that stretch, but he insisted on going.
Remembering the incident is still disturbing to me, especially since I do a lot of white-water boating these days.
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Peter Haan
Trad climber
San Francisco, CA
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Jan 26, 2010 - 12:03am PT
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1977: Bob Locke on Guido's new deck in Santa Cruz
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guido
Trad climber
Santa Cruz/New Zealand/South Pacific
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Jan 26, 2010 - 12:07am PT
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Thanks Peter
I was looking for that photo.
A good lad indeed.
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Dick Erb
climber
June Lake, CA
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Jan 26, 2010 - 12:41am PT
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This is the first time I've read this well told account of such a sad and scary event, and as I too wondered where he took that long fall, the memory came back to me of some unprotected face climbing below Sheraton Watkins. It is a part of the climb that sticks in my mind, where hurrying stopped, no hold broke, no bug flew in my eye. I was given passage. Gives me a shiver to think how close how many of us have been.
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Wayno
Big Wall climber
Seattle, WA
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Jan 26, 2010 - 01:59am PT
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Powerful, moving stuff, thanks for sharing it.
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TripL7
Trad climber
san diego
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Jan 26, 2010 - 02:11am PT
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Bobo loved to climb, to write, and he had many friends.
I recall one afternoon, sitting in the back of his VW van in the Valley. After I had mentioned that I had minored in English Lit. a big smile broke out on his face and he handed me a short story he had penned. He stated that English Lit. was his major, if I remember correctly.
He was anxious for me to critique his work. A paragraph or two into reading it, someone or something pulled us away from the solitude of the van, out into the parking lot. Wanting to give it my undivided attention, alone on top of a boulder or out in the meadow, I handed it back to him, commenting that I would prefer to read it later. He looked disappointed. I am very disappointed that I didn't take the time to read my friends story that afternoon.
The last time I saw Bobo, he and Dale had stopped by the little A-frame cabin a couple of us climbers were renting in Mammoth. I don't recall what the occasion was, perhaps someones birthday. Millis was there...and all was well. Bobo and Dale had just returned from the Palisades, they had climbed Dark Star, I believe that was the name of the route. Dale mentioned how easy it would be for someone to die on the route. He explained that it followed a knife edged arete to the summit. Bobo commented that he was going to concentrate on the safer, classic routes from then on. He and Dale had been pushing it for some time.
Just a few weeks or so later, while listening to the radio one morning, we heard that a rescue was in progress in the Valley. We called the Mtn. Room Bar, the rescue was for our friend Bobo...he was already gone.
We all gathered together later that Fall to say goodbye to Bobo, at the top of Mt. Dana. I remember Dale was there, Yabo, Peter H., Chris F., Bob F., Vern C., Jimbo, Animal Art, Kevin L., Dennis O., Tom C., Don R., Walter R. and many others.
Millis led the ceremony, and at the end tossed Bobo's ashes down Cocaine Shute. Dale and Bobo had skied it the previous Spring.
Bobo's parents looked pleased whenever I dared to steal a glance in their direction that afternoon. No doubt that pleased look came from knowing that their son had so many good friends during his brief life.
EDIT: Dale had implied that if someone fell on the route(Dark Star?), they could die as a result of the rope being cut in two by the sharp/jagged nature of the knife edged arete. Bobo fell(Mt. Watkins) leading a run-out 5.9 section(well within his ability)and slammed into a dihedral. The edge of a bong, or pins on the rack, cut the lead rope in two. And he then continued to fall a long ways, the haul line in which he was tied into stopped his fall.
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gonamok
Trad climber
poway, ca
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Jan 27, 2010 - 02:37am PT
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Really moving account, thanks for sharing that.
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MH2
climber
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Jan 27, 2010 - 02:58am PT
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A painful event, a sober reminder.
Good job on going up there at night and getting down to Bobbo safely.
We were listening in on a radio John Dill left behind.
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Levy
Big Wall climber
So Cal
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Jan 27, 2010 - 03:05am PT
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Rick,
That was a well written account of this tragic tale. I echo the sentiments of others in that this piece belongs in an anthology somewhere.
Thanks again for graciously sharing.
Bill Leventhal
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James Doty
Trad climber
Idyllwild, Ca.
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Jan 28, 2010 - 08:52pm PT
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Nice bump, Pate.
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tinker b
climber
the commonwealth
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Jan 28, 2010 - 10:52pm PT
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thankyou for a beautiful account. i have always stopped to think about death when it happens to friends or in the area i've been in. since watching it happen myself, i have been trying to understand death and how other people deal when they are a part of it.
i held my partner in august as he breathed his last after taking a fall on the third pillar of dana. it took me a month before i climbed again. i joked a lot that i was taking up sewing as a hobby, but it just didn't cut it.
the first climb i did my whole body felt so good, and i realized i would never be able to stop climbing. it is hard to explain to a lot of people in my life who don't climb. i still see images of jeff every time i climb, but i quiet my mind and climb on, it is the only thing i know to do.
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TGT
Social climber
So Cal
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Jan 28, 2010 - 11:33pm PT
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nd i realized i would never be able to stop climbing. it is hard to explain to a lot of people in my life who don't climb
I know exactly what you meant.
The story though is the oldest one told that survives in written form.
Gilgamesh.
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survival
Big Wall climber
A Token of My Extreme
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Jan 28, 2010 - 11:55pm PT
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Thanks Rick.
Very painful stuff, for everyone.
I don't think I've ever seen such a large, sad event written out in quite that strong yet compact a way.
Very powerful.
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Rick A
climber
Boulder, Colorado
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Topic Author's Reply - Jan 30, 2010 - 12:39pm PT
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I appreciate the recent comments. John Vawter used the term “dichotomy” to describe the two extremes that can result from climbing, elation and death. I was trying to express just that.
Another memory of that night is the difficulty we had in finding the point directly above Sheraton Watkins, so that the long rappel could be rigged. The slabs on top slope down for hundreds of feet to the edge of the vertical face and it was not until Dale had rappelled to the edge on the third try that we set up the big rappel ropes. Dale was perfect in his calculations and hit Sheraton Watkins from 1200 feet above, no mean feat by moonlight.
A discussion of the accident, the memorial route put up by Bridwell,Long, Schmitz and Kauk, and more picures of Bob are in this thread:
http://www.supertopo.com/climbers-forum/444343/Bob_Locke_Memorial_Buttress_Mt_Watkins_Story
Still a mystery how the lead rope broke when it did not appear to be cut.
I didn’t know Bob Locke and appreciate his friends providing a sense of what he was like. I have read of his pioneering, steep ski descents on three pin gear in the Sierra with Dale’s brother Alan, among others.
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bobo's mom
Trad climber
Santa Rosa ,CA
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Oct 17, 2010 - 05:46pm PT
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It has Bold Textbeen 34 years since we lost our Bobo- I just want all of Bob's friends to know that I thank them from the bottom of my heart for what they did to try to rescue our Bobo. Eight years ago my husband joined Bob in the great beyond. I miss them very much and I love you guys- Carol Locke
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guido
Trad climber
Santa Cruz/New Zealand/South Pacific
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Oct 17, 2010 - 06:23pm PT
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Carol
Bobo was fortunate to have such a great mom, a lucky lad indeed.
RIP Bobo.
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Fuzzywuzzy
climber
suspendedhappynation
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Oct 18, 2010 - 12:08am PT
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Carol -
It's Tom Carter here. Thank you so much for letting us know.
I have had some contact with your nephew and have been collecting some photos to share.
I will write you and share some history.
Tom Carter
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WBraun
climber
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Oct 18, 2010 - 01:34am PT
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I always speculated it might have been the yo hammer which was holstered at the waist that cut the rope when he hit the dihedral after his fall?
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rmuir
Social climber
From the Time Before the Rocks Cooled.
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Oct 18, 2010 - 09:29pm PT
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Wow, Rick. So sorry that I missed this one the first (or second or third) go-round. ...a very fine piece of writing about a most sobering event! Nice work.
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neebee
Social climber
calif/texas
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Oct 18, 2010 - 09:41pm PT
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hey there, say, dear carol locke.... i am very sorry to hear of the loss of your son (far late now, i know) and now of your husband...
god bless in the lost of two very speical men in your life...
also, say, tinkerb... i am very sad, and sorry to hear of the loss of your dear friend.... my you continue your climbing, even as you have, and most bravely---bravely, i say, due to how you kept seeing him---things like this are harder to overcome, as the memories keep "singing out" far too fresh, even when you have placed them in a special 'shelf' of the heart, for safe keeping and honor...
god bless...
:)
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Rick A
climber
Boulder, Colorado
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Topic Author's Reply - Oct 27, 2010 - 09:42am PT
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Mrs. Locke,
Thanks for posting here. My sincere condolences for the loss of your son and husband. I hope the account of the rescue attempt did not add to your pain.
You may not appreciate the fact that that four of the best climbers of that era -Long, Bridwell, Kauk and Schmitz- climbed a first ascent of a magnificent rock buttress on Mt. Watkins, near where Bobo died. They named the route, "The Bob Locke Memorial." For a Yosemite climber, that is a very high honor.
Rick
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survival
Big Wall climber
A Token of My Extreme
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Oct 27, 2010 - 09:46am PT
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Mrs. Locke, thank you for posting to this thread.
I agree with Guido, a lucky lad.
I wonder if someone told you that this thread was running, or if the depth of the lurker pool is really that deep around here?
Either way, it's an honor.
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Steve Grossman
Trad climber
Seattle, WA
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Thanks again for sharing this experience with us here.
Tim Setnika wrote a very long account of this rescue as an introduction to his SAR handbook that provides an interesting additional perspective. I watched the whole show from the 6th pitch bivy on the RNWF of Half Dome in the company of Mark and Dennis Udall which was pretty bracing to say the least.
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Gnome Ofthe Diabase
climber
Out Of Bed
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This adds more to the epic,
and
Steve - with the Udall(s?) the political family. So good to know the roots,of those in politics are real!
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Steve Grossman
Trad climber
Seattle, WA
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Lots of climbers between Mo and Stuart Udall's sons and I have been out with most of them. My folks were friends and ardent supporters of Mo who transformed Tucson into an oasis of decency and tolerance in an otherwise politically hard-assed state.
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Timber
Mountain climber
Pagosa Springs, Colorado
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The night Bobo passed I woke from a sound sleep in Santa Cruz, 200+ miles from the Valley.
I felt his presence in my room in a truly powerful physical sense. I can remember him telling me
" Don"t worry, everything is going to be all right" as clearly tonight as I did at 3:12 a.m. that night so many years ago. I did not know for two more days.
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Don Lauria
Trad climber
Bishop, CA
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Back in the mid-90s, while working as an assistant guide with Allan Bard on one of our many excursions in the Sierra, Allan paused to pick a Penny Royal bud and attach it to his hat “What’s that all about Allan?”
“It’s for Bobo, one of my old friends. He always used to have a Penny Royal stuck in his cap.”
He explained that “Bobo” was Bob Locke and that he died in a climbing accident years ago. “Whenever Penny Royal perfume gets my attention, I pick one and add it to my cap. I do it in his memory. Here, put one in your cap.”
Since that day back in the 90s I have always paused to pick a bud for Bobo even though I never met him. Now I do it to remember not only Bob Locke, but also to remember Allan Bard.
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phylp
Trad climber
Upland, CA
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What powerful and poignant remembrances.
It's a privilege to read about this history and the people involved.
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Don Lauria
Trad climber
Bishop, CA
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Jan 10, 2017 - 12:13pm PT
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Bump for Allan and Bobo. We're coming up on the 20th anniversary of Allan's death and the birth of the Bardini Foundation.
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ß Î Ø T Ç H
Boulder climber
ne'er–do–well
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Aug 13, 2018 - 12:49am PT
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^^ Whoa.
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