Hardwear Sessions

We arrived at the base of the route around 1am, which was slightly ahead of schedule so it was decided that we would take a quick nap before beginning the climb. The alarm from my watch went off at 3am, and we turned on our headlamps, and began climbing. As Andy blasted off into the dark unknown, I noticed that the once starlit sky was now beginning to cloud over. When the rope came snug I chalked up my hands and followed Andy's string of gear placements into the sunrise. With the sun up, we sat on a small ledge with our feet dangling off and took in the view. It was spectacular. The valley floor below us was flanked by the infamous buttresses of the other massive Yosemite walls. The cloud cover was thickening, but at least the ceiling height was remaining constant. We continued to climb into the day. By early afternoon the ceiling began to drop and our view of the valley below was taken over by the thickening soup. We continued to climb, completely immersed inside of the swirling mist. Between the lack of sleep and the surreal setting, it almost seemed like a dream. And then the rain began. With only one rope and the multiple traverses below us, retreat was no longer an option. We quickly discussed our remaining options. Continuing up the route via aid was all we could do. I took the next pitch. My fleece jacket and pants quickly wetted out as I slotted offsets RP's and stood in slings to gain upward progress. Somewhere in the middle of my lead the temperatures dropped dramatically. The wind turned from a playful breeze into a steady tempest, and the rain turned into hail and snow. The belay was fully exposed to the alpine like elements, and my body began to shake in an attempt to warm itself up. I knew I couldn't afford to subject myself to the conditions any longer, so I pushed the belay into the back of a near by squeeze chimney. As I waited for Andy to join me I thought to myself, "F**k, this would be a sh**ty way to die." With no way down, and no way of topping out that day, I knew we would be spending the night on the wall. We had no food, no warm clothes, and no bivy gear. It was a looking grim.

I buried my head and sat shivering while I waited for Andy to reach me. As I hung in the chimney and waited I thought I could hear voices. Was I going crazy? Where were these voices coming from? They were coming from deep within the squeeze chimney. I unzipped my chest pocket and pulled out the soggy topo. As my finger followed our line I observed a note in regards to an alcove located one pitch above us. "There must be another party on route, bivying in the alcove," I thought to myself. Judging by the tone in their voices it sounded like they were more optimistic about things than I. When Andy reached me, I told him to head for the alcove. As he aided up, I prayed that there might be room in there for us to hide from the storm. When Andy got to the alcove, he fixed the rope and I jugged up behind. As soon as I reached the anchor I was immediately greeted by a smile from a member of the Italian team who had made a comfy refuge for themselves. In his broken English, he told us there wasn't much room left but they would do their best to accommodate us. They had been on the route for 3 days and had plenty of provisions to sustain their efforts. Andy and I, on the other hand, were half hypothermic and wished we had brought bivy gear. Our newly found Italian friends must have noticed this and quickly offered us their down jackets. We gladly accepted them and began to wait out one of the longest nights of my life. The temperatures plummeted to 14 degrees Fahrenheit and the minutes seemed like hours.

When the sun came up in the morning, the clouds were gone and the storm was over. Even with the down jacket, I was still frozen and my teeth were chattering uncontrollably. Andy was in the same boat. We decided the best way to warm up was start climbing again. We thanked our friends for their hospitality, and headed off. Only a few hundred feet to the summit! We crossed the Thank God ledge, and continued up the remaining two pitches. I jumped up the last few blocks to the top. As my head poked over the edge I was met with the warm glow of sunshine. As I belayed Andy up, some hikers came over to chat. I must have looked haggard because they immediately offered food and water. I told them it would be much appreciated, and they proceeded to give us a bag of beef jerky, peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, and several liters of water. When Andy reached me at the top, we feasted like kings and fell asleep under the warm sun.

As we descended the John Muir Trail back to Curry Village we both knew we got lucky. Things could have ended much differently.

During the hike I started playing out the prior events in my head, and wondered if lighter really is better. Were we foolish to not bring food? Was the weight savings of not bringing an insulating layer really worth it? Should I have given more credit to my initial intuitions about the unforeseen weather? As I mulled over these ideas, I eventually made it back to the cabin to find pizza and beer waiting. I cracked open a cold one and decided to call it another adventure. Next time I'll probably pack my Voodoo Belay Parka, and throw in a couple of energy bars...