Rain and Choss

Monday morning, we hoped to find an open spot at Camp 4, the first-come-first-served campground in the valley. We arrived under grey skies and stood in line for two hours

After securing a campsite, we headed off to climb before the inevitable rain fell.

We selected the New Diversions cliff for its proximity to the road and supply of single pitch mixed or bolted climbs. Sam won the shoot and picked his first lead. I was not envious of his selection: Chicken Pie—a trad 5.9 fist crack in an imposing awkward-looking corner.

Sam enjoyed the pitch, and I—despite my prejudices against big cracks and awkward features—had a great time following the route.

I was up next and picked New Deviations because it had a bolted face with “wild free climbing moves more typical of the gym than Yosemite.” I roped up and faced the big offwidth flake start.

I whined to Sam, “This is out of my comfort zone,” as I placed the numbers 3.5 and 4 cams and grunted up the first twenty feet of 5.9. I was learnin’!

The face above was odd, with golf ball to basketball sized knobs and a bit of run out. The pitch was over 150 feet high and super rad.

Back on the ground, we debated whether to start another lead or top rope the 5.12 the rap rope was hanging on. Before we made a decision, the rain came.

Forced into tourism and commerce, we walked in the rain to Bridalveil Falls and went to the Yosemite Village store to buy food and a rain tarp before returning to camp.

Tuesday we got a late start to give the soaked rock some time to dry. 

We walked into the Five and Dime wall, but were turned off by the rampant poison oak, crowd, and short routes. We opted for Pat and Jack’s wall instead.

Sam won the shoot and picked Knob Job (5.10b) for his first lead. The pitch was long and fun. I passed on the 5.10d second pitch (“scary, run-out, much harder if you are under 6’”) and sent a short but sweet (and safe) 5.8 instead.

On the ground, some other climbers suggested we looked strong enough to give Sherry’s Crack (10c) a try. I worked up the first twenty-five feet of continuous burly hand crack. After a few falls and takes and a lot of frustration over the slippery feet and too-big-to-finger-jam crack, I lowered to let Sam have a go.

Sam suffered an even more frustration than I did, but eventually finished the pitch. I fell following and Sam fell toproping it. It was hard. Our Yosemite initiation was still underway.

We finished the day on a picky, hard bolted face climb called Skinheads (5.10d). We both got it done with some serious determination. Back at camp, we were ready for beer.

We got an early start on Wednesday and set out to climb Higher Cathedral Spire. The 5.9 Regular Route gets four stars in the guide book and comes with a history. The first ascent was done in 1934 before modern rock shoes, harnesses, or protection.

The spire is the tallest freestanding pinnacle in North America. We were psyched.

After the almost two-hour uphill approach, I won the shoot and opted to lead the first 5.5 pitch so I would be lined up to lead the glorious sounding finger crack and exposed hand traverse final pitch.

The first pitch was a breeze except for the unnerving toaster-sized loose blocks wedged precariously in the sandy ledge at the belay ledge.

Sam started into the second pitch and suggested it felt hard for 5.9. I reminded him that, at the time of the first ascent, there was no such thing as the harder 5.10 grade. In this case, 5.9 just meant the hardest grade in existence.

The ledge I belayed from was shady. I got cold, and by the time I followed the second pitch my fingers and toes were numb. Any of my regular climbing partners can painfully imagine what happened next. I groaned and sniffled my way up the rock.

I moaned every time my hands or feet contacted the rock, muttering: “Ooohhhh, I have the screaming barfies! Ooowww owww owww oww,” then “Oooohhhh Gooodddd. This hurts! This sucks” then back to “Ooowww, oooowww, scraming barfies,” and so on. 

Needless to say, I fell at the crux and proclaimed the route a complete sandbag.

I was warmed up by the time I started the third pitch, but I had no idea where the route went. I wandered around until I found an old piton and was confident I was on the “wild, deformed” rock the book described.

I fell from the airy bulge at the pitch’s crux. The foot placements were sandy and the featured rock was crumbly. After some complaining, I finished the pitch.

As Sam started up the fourth pitch, he said, “Let’s get this over with.” The rock was dirty and loose, the route was wandering, and—unless in a rare patch of sunshine—we were cold.

The fourth pitch, like the second and third, was rated 5.9 but felt much easier. The views of the valley below started to get more impressive.

The fifth pitch was good. Sam and I both enjoyed it despite the fact that we had decided to hate the route. The hand crack was hard but fun and the final traverse and top-out was exposed and pleasant.

On top of the spire, there was nothing left to do but take a nap.