Higher Cathedral, Yosemite
Higher Cathedral
A PERSONAL ENCOUNTER Anthony J. Buettner
The steel gray rock feels cold, hard and unforgiving. I can feel the weight of my body pulling on my hand jammed with fear deep into the fist-wide crack. It’s too cold to feel my fingers. The warmth of the sun replaced by the cold shadow of rock. No longer fearing a fall to the valley floor 1,000 feet below, I fear not reaching the top of this vertical monolith.
“Come on Tony, CLIMB!” John screams, trying to be heard over the wind whipping up our shadowed corner of the world.
“Don’t let him down.” I tell myself. “Keep climbing. your strong. Forget the fear.”
One pitch........two pitches........
eighth pitch...........
twelfth pitch.........the top.
I’m tired, exhausted....elated.......... SAFE! I hate my fear. I must defeat it........control it. I’ve got to do this again.
John invites me to climb with him in Yosemite while we sit and rest during our workout at the local climbing gym. I know his experience and knowledge is far beyond mine. Knowing what I may be getting myself into, I’m afraid to say yes.
“Waddaya wanna do?” I ask him, almost not wanting to hear the answer.
“Something I’ve never climbed before but very worthy,” he says as if cautious not to spring it on me right away. “Higher Cathedral , northeast face, twelve pitches..........very cool,” he says, looking down at his hands as if waiting to hear my response.
I pause a moment and think to myself; “This will be the biggest wall I’d ever been on. Will I be in shape for it?” It’s early spring and the opportunity to warm up on lesser climbs has not been made available. This will be a very difficult climb for me.
“What’s the rating ?” I ask.
“Mostly 5.8 with one 5.9 or 5.10 pitch depending on how we do it,” he says. “You can do it. I’ve seen you climb. You’re strong and we’ll be doing nothing above anything I’ve seen you do in the gym.”
His confidence in me is inspirational.
“OK, let’s do it,” I say with renewed confidence. “We’ll leave tomorrow night; meet you here at 7 o’clock.”
The conversation during the long ride to Yosemite Valley helps to keep my mind off what I have gotten myself into. I have entered into a contract with the unknown. A twelve to thirteen pitch climb, early in the season (it’s only March). I’ve had no time to prepare, no time to build my confidence on lesser climbs. A rush of fear pasted through me like a cold, stiff gust of wind.
Arriving late into the valley, we quickly and quietly work our way to the base of El Cap and lay out our bed rolls. I break into nervous conversation with John while viewing the huge, looming walls in silhouette against the night sky. After several minutes of no response, I turn to find him fast asleep and snoring. Disappointed with his lack of regard for the condition of my nerves, I settle down into my sack and begin the process of trying to clear my mind so that I can get some much needed sleep.... I can’t sleep. The thought of climbing this wall frightens me. I’ve seen it, briefly, while in route to shorter climbs up the Cathedral gully. I really never gave it much attention, never thought I would ever want to climb it. It’s a steel gray mass of cracks and corners. Large areas of seemingly featureless rock. My mind continues to go through every possible mistake, error or accident that could happen to us during this climb.
“I need to get to sleep. I’ll need every ounce of strength and energy I have to get me through this climb.”
Visions of my two young daughters enter my head.
“SHIT! Now I’ll never get to sleep. What if John falls? What if I fall?............ We’re not gonna fall,” I keep telling myself. “It’s a safe climb. Everything is going to be fine. GO TO SLEEP!”
I have allowed fear to creep deep into my soul. I will get no sleep tonight.
I finally start to feel the warm light of the morning sun making its way into my sleeping bag...my cocoon. Laying perfectly still I wait for the warmth to thaw my cold joints.
“Man, I gotta pee!..............The sooner I get up the sooner we can start this day and the sooner we will be at the top of that wall.” I can’t wait any longer, slither out of my bag into the chilly morning air, shuffle over to the nearest bush and..... ahhhhhh!....relief. Glancing over my right shoulder to see the immense 3,000 vertical feet of El Capitan it amazes me that any one would want to climb such a huge chunk of rock. The warming sun, the vertical beauty of Yosemite and an empty bladder. For a few brief seconds I forget my fear ...............................everything is beautiful.
“Come on, Dude, we gotta get on that wall!” John wakes with astonishing speed and a big smile, stands up, stretches and rubs his eyes.
“How’d you sleep?” I ask.
“Like a rock,” he replies with a yawn.
Mumbling something about being glad one of us did and wish I could say the same, I gather up my bag and start down the boulder field toward my truck. Boiling some water and, knowing it is going to be a very long day, I begin ingesting as much caffeine laden coffee as I can. We pack some warm clothes and food and begin the long approach hike up the boulder strewn gully toward our wall. At the base of the wall we begin putting our harnesses on and selecting the gear we will need to climb safely. We discuss who will lead which pitches and it is determined that if we climb fast and it looks as if we have time, I can lead some of the easier pitches farther up the wall. Right now we need to make up time and we agree that John will lead the first few pitches. It’s 9 am when we begin to climb. I feel surprisingly strong and confident now that my mind is busy with the business of climbing. The 1500 feet of vertical wall looks intimidating to me from the base and I notice that the upper two thirds of the wall curves outward, appearing to be slightly over-hanging. I begin to focus on climbing instead of falling as the first few pitches go quickly and easily.
1 pitch.... 2 pitches.... 3 pitches At the top of the 4th pitch we begin the first of what will be a series of squeeze chimneys no wider than the length of my thigh. Neither of us realized there would be so many chimney pitches and, although John is climbing very bold and strong, I can sense by his speed that he’s having some difficulty. So far my strength is holding up. I am waiting for the lack of sleep to affect me, wondering if I can pull through. On the 6th pitch, I sit on the belay ledge enjoying the awesome view. Realizing that I no longer fear falling I instead begin questioning my ability to get to the top. I wonder why my fear of falling seemed to be greatest while I was standing on solid ground at the valley floor.
“On Belay!” John yells down, signaling me to get off my ass and startclimbing.
Removing my belay anchors I place them in orderly fashion on the gear loops of my harness and position myself against the cold rock.
“Climbing!” I yell back, letting him know that I’m on my way up. The climb is getting progressively harder. I’m beginning to feel weak. I wonder how long it will be before I begin to fail. I climb to a spot where a previous party has left gear to retreat from this climb. A few stoppers, carabeners and slings added to my inventory and I’m climbing again wondering if there is something they know that I don’t.
“When will my body begin to tell me, enough is enough?”
6th pitch... 7th pitch.... 8th pitch.
I’m really beginning to feel fatigued now. Half way up the 8th pitch, I have to rest.
“John, I have to rest . TAKE.... TAKE!.” I yell.
[Climbing demands that you use certain commands to let your partner know what you need. “Take “ is his clue to remove all slack from the rope so that when I let go of the rock I do not lose any of the precious altitude I have gained.]
“Climb, Tony, keep climbing,” he yells back.
Knowing we are taking longer to complete these pitches than originally anticipated and having past experienced climbing at night, I do not want to be on this wall after night fall. I reach deep for some reserve of strength hoping my mind and body will answer the call and it does. I continue climbing. It’s amazing what your body and mind will do for you when you focus.
At the top of the 8th pitch I set up my belay for John’s lead and settle into the seemingly endless, cold wait for him to get to the next ledge so that I can continue to climb and stay warm. The sun left us just before noon (a negative element of climbing on the north side of anything in the Northern Hemisphere on any but the warmest of days.) I’ve been hauling our pack the entire time (one of the thankless jobs of climbing second.) I’ve figured out a way to climb these chimneys with our pack by suspending it between my legs. as we gain altitude, it becomes colder and we begin putting on our cold weather clothing which lightens the pack and reduces it’s bulk, making it more manageable. Thankfully, my fingers are becoming numb as my hands, along with my elbows and knees are cut, scraped and bruised from jamming them deep into the back corner of these chimneys. Now more that 2/3rds of the way up I sit..... cold, tired and bruised....wanting desperately to get to the top safely. Thoughts of my little girls enter my mind again and I begin feeling extremely selfish in my pursuit to control my fear and conquer my weaknesses.
“There must be an easier way. If I die in this pursuit will my little ladies ever forgive me? Will they understand why I do this?”
My feelings of irresponsibility grow into a determination to get to the top in one piece and the promise that I will never again put myself in a situation like this .
“ON BELAY!” John screams down, trying desperately to be heard over the increasing noise of howling wind working its way up our wall.
Again I gather my anchors and begin to work my way up. Now into the 9th and most difficult pitch, the chimney is extremely tight and getting smaller. Slowly and painfully I wiggle my way up, still dragging the pack between my legs. Near the top of the chimney, I begin to realize that I am going to have to work my way out of the chimney and commit to the face of this great wall. Again, fear enters my heart. The restriction is just too tight. Climbing as high as I possibly can I avoid the inevitable till the last possible moment. I work myself so far up, in fact, that when I try to move my head towards the edge of the chimney I realize that my helmet has become wedged in what I would now call an off-width crack....How embarrassing. I begin to giggle and laugh at my incompetence.
“Hey John!” This is one tight chimney. Did your head get stuck?”
“No, why do you ask?” he questions.
“Just curious,” I say , not wanting to let on how stupid I feel and must look. Working my head free I wiggle to the out side of the crack. “What exposure, WOW! What an amazing view.”
It actually feels good to be out of this miserable crack and onto some face climbing. Despite the exposure brought on by the thousand plus feet of free air below me, I feel a renewed sense of strength brought on by daylight........No fear. The next move looks pretty straight forward: Reach high for a positive hand hold. Stem out with my legs to get leverage against the outside wall of the chimney and pull up......... Easy!
Bracing my self, I pull, and lunge.
I hardly move.
Again, brace...pull...lunge.
No strength, I’m completely zapped. I have nothing left. My foot slips and I fall.
Hanging in my harness beaten and pissed, I try to shake out my arms, try to get some strength back.
“Come on, Tony; climb.”
Now, within sight, John is leaning back on his stance bracing himself against my weight. Apologizing for my weakness I reattach myself to the rock, and try again. Brace, Pull..........Nothing. I hang again.
“Bullshit! I can do this.” I tell myself. Get it together. CLIMB!”
Brace, Pull........ARGHHHHH!.................I’ve found strength somewhere.
I stand up above the positive hold almost looking level into Johns face. He returns a reassuring chuckle and smiles.
“ Tough pitch, huh?” he says, acknowledging that he too had a hard time with it.
I ‘m tired but happy. The next two pitches go surprisingly easy and we soon find ourselves at the top trading “high fives” and taking inventory of all my scrapes and cuts. We laugh, eat what little food we have and drink the rest of our water. Now 6:30pm, we realize it will be getting dark soon and commence our descent down the long steep boulder strewn gully. I am absolutely exhausted and the descent seems endless. We’re both tired and conversation is kept to a minimum. It is obvious that we will not get down out of this gully before dark. We move quickly and quietly, racing against the twilight. This time of silence permits me to reflect on the events of the day.
“Once again I have pulled through my fear and found strength where none existed.” Recalling my promise to my girls, I almost immediately begin to justify my motivations:
“Maybe if I were to do some lesser climbs before another attempt, I would do better. Perhaps now that I know what to expect I will not find it so hard to sleep the night before. How well would I have done had I not been so tired? Will I ever want to do this again?” By the time we reach the truck, I have come to the conclusion that another wall of this size could very well be in my future. I’ve learned much about what it takes to accomplish such climbs. I can’t wait to get back to the gym to get in shape for the next one. While climbing, as in life, the reward for working through my fear has revealed itself- Confidence in my ability to function under pressure. How quickly I have forgotten my fears or, should I say, forgiven myself for having them.
