Yosemite Trip 1 (Days 11, 12, 13)

Yosemite Trip 1

Friday morning Katharine and Andrew dropped me off early at the airport to fly to San Jose, where Luke and Lizzy picked me up to go to Yosemite.
It had been 12 years since I had last climbed in Yosemite. Unlike my last visit, where I merely fiddled around on a few short climbs, this trip was for Luke and I to take a first step towards a much greater goal: climb El Capitan free, from bottom to top. Free, meaning using the sheer force of our hands and feet. No pulling on any gear. Each pitch would have to be climbed without falling.

Our objective for this first trip was modest: kick the tires of El Cap . In other words check out the environment, take a look at the base of the climb, climb up a few pitches, get used to the rock, learn how best to coordinate our team, and investigate other logistical issues such as water, food, and heat.

We arrived in the valley late on Friday. I looked up at El Capitan, and I was confused by its scale. I had difficulty grasping what I saw. A few tiny colored dots representing climbers could be spotted high up on the wall. It seemed that they were in another world — beyond our reach.

After setting up camp at one of the traditional campsites (crowded with RVs, campers, college students throwing Frisbees, and dads preparing loads of meat for the barbecue) we walked to the west face of El Capitan to take a quick look at our project: a route called “Free Rider” which goes along the Salathe Wall — dubbed by Royal Robbins “the greatest rock climb in the world.”

Saturday saw our first attempt at Free Rider, climbing the first 1/3rd of the route — a somewhat easier portion of Free Rider known as “Free Blast”. We woke up early and got to the base of the route, where a party of 2 was already there before us.  They were aid speed-climbing and soon disappeared up the wall at an amazing speed.

Free Blast went very well. Luke and I both fell on our crux pitches, but we got to the long ledge that mark the end of the Free Blast without any issue by mid afternoon. This placed us high up on the wall, surrounded by air. I felt like I was flying again.

One guy appeared from the far left and proceeded to make trips forth and back on the ledge, shuttling heavy haul bags to the base of a thin crack. He was preparing to climb an aid line named The Shield that started from here and went upwards forever, following a series of 3 thin cracks, requiring pitons, hammers, and days of labor. He would later rappel down to the valley, in search for some rest and possibly a partner to take on the siege. He worked hard; it gave me a new appreciation for how involved aid climbing a big wall is.
Another couple — seemingly husband and wife — were struggling higher up on the Salathe Wall. Things were obviously not going well. Their heavy haul bags were getting caught on all the rocks; they were both reaching frustration and exhaustion; the woman’s empty stare spelled despair.

The next day we decided to start from the ground again, and see how far we could go in 1 day. This time we got to the base first, shortly followed by an international crowd: 2 Swedes, 3 young Frenchmen (who coincidentally happened to be sharing our campsite the night before), and 2 Americans with a squeaky chicken.
The Swedes were as warm as an iceberg; Petter, the first one, greeted us with a friendly “We climb fast; you better climb fast because we’ll be firing right behind your asses.” They appeared to be very experienced, and I would have gladly let them go ahead if they had asked nicely; instead I was content to just smile back.

The Frenchmen were friendly, and not an issue — they were not experienced on this kind of rock, and ended up spending the entire day tangled up with the 2 Americans. We would later see them at camp where they were joined by 3 other Frenchmen for a large multi-course feast which started by a loud “A Table!”.

Luke and I climbed efficiently, elegantly, and with no falls. When I lead the crux slab pitch, Petter explained to Luke how I was doing it all wrong; Luke replied: “Well, it seems to be working fine for him.”
As we moved up the pitches swiftly one by one the sun slowly came up, and the Swedes started warming up. We chatted with them about our goals and ambitions; Stefan, the 2nd Swede, gave us some helpful tips and encouragement. Overall it was really neat.

After reaching the ledge that marks the end of Free Blast we continued on to our new uncharted pitches of Free Rider. Luke led two “death” chimneys (no falls allowed) that took a lot of energy. The climbing was definitively of a different involvement; this was serious set up.

We finished on a dazzling vertical pitch bathed in the golden sunset light. It was unbelievably beautiful. I slowly looked down the length of the wall and spotted tiny colored dots — climbers. This time we were the ones in another world — beyond the reach of others. As the dots slowly rappelled into the darkness their headlamps turned on and they became dots of light, slowly gliding down the wall like fireflies.

We had made it about 1/2 way up El Capitan in one day, 17 pitches in total, 1′400 feet — clearly exceeding all our expectations.

El Capitan, the object of our desire.

Stein on the slab pitches of Free Blast

Stein, happy that everything is going well so far

Luke somehow decided to skip putting sunscreen on his right arm.

Luke getting psyched to climb the first death chimney

Stein onsighting a mind-baffling slab crux on Free Rider.

Luke just survived the 2nd death chimney.