There are few natural formations as massive, inspiring, and recognizable as El Capitan in Yosemite National Park in California. To some, its a symbol of the impossible and to others its a mecca of climbing and seeing what's possible. To me it was a longtime goal that took many years of climbing to even begin to understand. Since I was a child this single piece of granite and the accomplishments of the pioneering climbers before me have been a constant unwavering inspiration. (If you're ever wondering why I continue to do this stuff.) Bigwall climbing to me was what climbing "was" and all the rest was just practice. Is that true? Of course not, but climbing El Capitan is no small task and it takes a large array of skills to accomplish. I was going to write an awesome intro here but I'll save you time. This is an inspiring rock, so lets go climbing!
Photo: Ansel Adams Collection
Our time in the Valley started off slow, and mixed with an array of difficulties. We had a short list of routes we aspired to climb that summer, but big crowds and congestion on some of the more popular routes meant we were stuck near the ground. Our first goal was to climb The Nose, which ascends the center prow of El Cap. A sort of unoriginal route choice, I wasn't bent on going up this route very first push of the trip, but it seemed like a worthy goal and still a fine way to start building momentum for technically harder routes. We started early and hiked in two haul bags filled with all our gear and accommodations and started up the route. Things early on became unnecessarily stressful when a party of 3 attempted to pass us on Pitch 1. Wearing knee-pads with two lesser experienced climbers in tow they told us their plan was to fix ropes up to Sickle ledge (4 pitches up) and come down, a significantly smaller day than the 12 pitches we had planned to climb to El Cap Tower where we planned to sleep and continue the next day. After being rubbed the wrong way we kept climbing and gradually watched them disappear underneath us. We gained Sickle ledge, the first natural ledge big enough to stop and relax just to realize the less than ideal reality of out situation. No less than 4 parties (climbing teams) congested in front of us, moving quite slow all well below Dolt Tower and ultimately El Cap Tower we were trying to gain that day. It turns out while we were climbing the route up to Sickle, two other teams ascended fixed ropes (placed there days before) to the same point, effectively blocking us from continuing. A let down at least and a lessen in patience and different strategies at best. It seems most people do not climb this in continuous push, but rather prefer to do the beginning in sections while returning to the ground leaving their ropes up to return another day. Ethics and style aside, we can all agree this creates a royal cluster%#@% down low on the route and simply put is just a big headache. We went down and watched their progress from El Cap Meadow. Each team only made it a few pitches further. Some ended on small ledges while others were left to sleep hanging in their harnesses for the night likely to just end up bailing the next day. We came up with a new plan.
"When everything goes wrong, thats when the adventure starts."
- Yvon Chouinard
The route Zodiac had been on our list from the start of the trip. If everything went as planned (impossible) we would have climbed this route 3rd, after gaining experience and momentum on a few other El Cap climbs first. That never entirely happened and our time window for a successful ascent was becoming smaller. I was stressed beyond belief trying to build/maintain/rebuild psych and motivation to carry on with new changed plans almost daily, but perhaps this was finally the route to take us there. I was excited but aware that this was a technically harder route to climb at A3+ when compared to The Nose at C2 . That meant more consecutive difficult pitches that would push our mental and psychical ability and stamina even further. For the none aid-climbers reading this, the higher the rating number the harder the climbing and the likely-hood for large more dangerous falls, consecutive marginal gear placements (think body weight only, would not hold a fall) and more time required to climb. There is also a difference between Clean-Aid (C grade) and just Aid (A grade) which may require the use of a hammer to drive pitons, beaks, copperheads, etc. In short, its pretty damn complicated and extremely involved to fully understand the difference in ratings, equipment used, and potential hazards or potential risks. Here is a link more about the "dark art" of Aid Climbing for more info. It is an often miss-understood part of modern climbing, but is still the most common form of climbing found in the realm of Big Wall Climbing.
Topo: Yosemite Bigwalls
Zodiac is 15 pitches, about 1800' in length, and we planned to climb it over the period of 3 days, and 2 nights on the wall. We brought a gallon of water per person per day, meals for 3.5 days, 2 large haul bags, a portaledge to sleep on, and a little bit of whiskey to sip in the evenings. We hiked our gear up to the base in two loads the day before leaving the ground. We had learned previously (on a failed attempt of Tangerine Trip due to you guessed it, crowds) that carrying all of your gear to the base in one fell swoop is nothing short of pure agony (although effective). Finally now with all of our gear there, and nobody else queued up to start the climb, we were finally confident we would get out chance to head up El Cap. The only other team on route was a large Korean team of 4, who were on Pitch 7 when we left the ground but had already been on route for maybe 3 days. Everything looked like it was going to line up and we were very inspired to finally have an opportunity to climb and test ourselves on this iconic terrain. So after bringing our last load up to the base we used the last of the remaining sunlight to climb Pitch 1, and fix our ropes to best get moving fast in the morning. In this case this tactic didn't actually interfere with anyone else (like we had been troubled by before), and rather provided us a little confidence that we could "blast off" full speed tomorrow.
We awoke before sunrise and started early. We wanted to gain as much progress on day one to give us the best chance of staying on schedule, and ultimately making it to the summit before we ran out of food, water, energy, or sanity. We put the finishing touches on organizing our gear and got it prepared to be hauled upwards. We had ropes up to the Pitch 1 anchor, so we both started getting to work, leaving the ground at about the same time. Andy ascended up the lead-line (used for fall arrest and attached to gear on the pitch) while I ascended the free hanging haul line (used to haul the bags) which was a straight shot to the anchor with no need to stop and fiddle with gear. Once I got to the anchor, I reconfigured the ropes, tied in, and put myself on belay to continue climbing into Pitch 2. This technique, called short-fixing, is when the leader continues climbing while the second (person) is still cleaning (gear used) on the pitch below. It's a little different than the "conventional" belay system, but with experience in the aid-solo and lead-solo techniques, its really no different. This method allowed us to charge up the first two pitches pretty fast, and soon enough I was hauling the bags to our high point. We didn't short fix any of the other pitches on the route, but I thought about it! It sure is an efficient technique for moving faster and it's great when the leader doesn't have to haul every pitch they lead. I continued climbing and lead Pitch 3 and then Andy took over to lead Pitch 4 and 5.
Photo: Tom Evans
We climbed in blocks, when one climber takes the lead role for multiple pitches. This allows for a continuous "in the zone" effect with the leader, and they tend to make faster, better decisions in this fashion. When alternating every-other pitch the belay exchanges seem to take longer, and the leaders usually start off slower, instead of just continuing to move fast and efficient. By the time we switched over, and my current block was done, we were certainly starting to gain momentum.
Photo: Tom Evans
Andy finally got his chance to get "on the sharp end" and lead some pitches now! He took us up Pitch 4 and 5 in fine style, negotiating through some varied terrain including a long(ish) rivet ladder (a series of small weak bolts with no hangers), some moderate free-climbing on traversing terrain, and not to mention he got to haul the bags for a little. He also got to figure out the "inverted cam hook" beta, which in this case could be avoided with the smallest 000 C3. I also had some fun on this terrain while cleaning and found the traversy free-climbing parts to be the most engaging. Often a conventional lower-out method could be used to avoid big swings and/or large horizontal spacing between pieces of gear, but sometimes this was not probable. Ultimately I would have to re-climb these same semi-runout traverses while self belaying with my Gri-Gri backup. Not my favorite part of what we had done so far, but hey it worked! There is certainly an art to cleaning hard aid pitches and I don't think this receives enough attention by the general climbing populace.
Photo: Tom Evans
Photo: Andy Reger
Photo: Andy Reger
Now it was my turn to jump on again and I knew we should go at least one more pitch before welcoming the dark and some food from the comfort of our portaledge. We had to wait for a few minutes at the belay to contemplate what to do when some rain and thunder started coming in from above. The first thunder booms were a little intimidating and certainly left us both with the "So yeah now what!?" feeling. Most people would just think to themselves that they should just stop, wait it out, or go down, but the reality is you don't really have anywhere to go or anything else to do so waiting seems a lot more like doing nothing. Going down is only a small option as it would be very time consuming, physically demanding, and not what you came there to do. Of course, had it been dire enough we could have, or even totally stopped for the day and set up the ledge and fly for shelter. Luckily it wasn't nearly bad enough and we were able to just keep on keepin' on. I threw my rain jacket on as a precaution and started getting the gear ready to head up.
The next pitch was one that I had been "warned" about as a pitch to try avoid falling off. The "Black Tower" pitch as they call it, had some tricky aid (C3 followed by some free climbing with little gear straight to A3 beaks) all above a free standing tower with a slanting ledge below it. It seemed like a test-pitch for me if there was going to be one that day. Once I stepped off the belay I didn't hesitate and just kept climbing and took it one placement at a time. The exciting part really got good at the tower itself, a pinnacle of free-standing rock (with a 1"x 1.5" foot top?) that you surmount and balance on while placing your first bird-beak in the A3 terrain. The ledge below, and the tower itself will all soon become obstacles underneath you in the event of a fall from higher up, so you appreciate there coolness only momentarily. Its pretty wild for numerous reasons, but to say it simply and without adding drama, you are still climbing and the risks are at least briefly more apparent. I kept tinkering away and delicately placed and hung of