| The Search - A Winter Solo of the Leaning Tower Trip Report |
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| The Search - A Winter Solo of the Leaning Tower   | 
| Page Type: Trip Report Location: California, United States, North America Date Climbed/Hiked: Feb 29, 1980 Activities: Big Wall Season: Winter | Page By: Sierra Ledge Rat Created/Edited: Aug 27, 2008 / Aug 28, 2008 Object ID: 435884 Hits: 218 Loading... Page Score: 87.78% - 7 Votes Loading... Vote: Log in to vote |
IntroductionWinter Solo
West Face, Leaning Tower (V, 5.7, A3)
Yosemite Valley, California, USA
March 1980
The SearchIt was late winter in Yosemite Valley, March 1980. Spring was around the corner and some of the days were finally getting warm.
The sun was shining very brightly as I stumbled under the weight of my pack through the moss-covered talus. I sat down on a rock and drank to relieve my parched throat. There, towering high above me was my goal: the Leaning Tower.
There was no one else with me. I was alone. There would no one to share my joys and tribulations except the swifts the live in the cracks high upon the wall. I was really alone. I did not tell anyone else of my plans. Not my girlfriend, not my family, not my friends. One day I just disappeared from home…
Why was I alone? I searched my soul for an answer. Was it because I was afraid? Afraid that I would grow old, full of regrets of all the things that I didn’t do when I was young and still able to do them?
Was it because I was unsure of myself? During my first pilgrimage to Yosemite Valley as a cocky novice climber, the giant rock walls filled me unimaginable terror. The intimidation was so extreme that me and my friends shyly retreated from Yosemite with our ropes after looking around for only two hours.
Since then I had done a lot of climbing (even some big walls) but always with people more experienced than me. Was I proving to myself that I had not been “guided” to the summits, but that I was a good climber in my own right. Was this my journey from youth to manhood?
Or was it because I really wanted to “live” so that I could readily accept the dulled vision, arthritis and death that would accompany me in older years?
It was not entirely clear to me. But I did know that this wall was the next step in my search for an answer.
That evening I scrambled up 1,000 feet, reaching the base of the route just as dusk was beginning to claim the Valley. Yosemite fell away and disappeared into the black shadows. The giant rock tower above was still brilliantly lit up in the red alpenglow of the setting sun. This was my world: a tower of orange granite floating in the void, a surrealism broken only by the chattering of the diving swifts.
Solo Big Wall TechniqueMy big wall soloing technique was pretty simple and fail-proof. I had two sets of double carabiners on my harness. Gates were opposite and opposed. I pulled 15 to 20 feet of slack, tied a figure 8 and clipped into carabiner set #1. I climbed upwards. When the rope pulled tight, I pulled another 15 to 20 feet of slack, tied another figure 8 and clipped into carabiner set #2. Then I unclipped from carabiner set #1 and untied the knot. Climb on!
My belays were multi-direction and bomb-proof. I tied both the lead rope and the haul line into the belay. I led each pitch trailing the haul line.
When I reached the next belay, I tied off and rappelled down the haul line. This proved to be a bit of challenge on the Leaning Tower because the pitches were so overhanging. I actually had to rappel down well below the bottom belay station and then pull myself in to the belay. There was so much tension on the haul rope that often I used jumars to pull myself to the belay. I figured that way if the haul line got cut on an edge above me I would still be attached to that segment of rope that was tied to the belay.
In my haul bag I had a hammock with spreader bar and rain fly, three gallons of water, a down jacket, a sleeping bag, a head light with spare batteries and food.
Day 1 - The Journey BeginsThe first day of climbing demonstrated that solo-climbing a big wall is a very slow and time-consuming endeavor. My poor arms screamed at me in agony as I climbed the radically overhanging rock. Rappelling down the haul line certainly pumped up my adrenalin as I spun earthward on that thin rope. I spent nearly two hours try to get through an awkward section where the bolts were missing. I thrashed and thrashed again in the top step of my aiders (no small feat on a 110-degree overhang), collapsing into my slings until I had enough strength to try again. I didn’t have a bolt kit but my cheater bar allowed me to snag dowels beyond the missing bolts.
I climbed only three of the route’s eleven pitches that first day. Crawling into my hammock I realized for the first time just how exhausted I was from the day’s work. The night air grew cold and I fell asleep in my hammock listening to the wind as the occasional snowflake melted on my face.
Day 2 - Crazy?At the first sign of light I started climbing again. I watched as another climbing party appeared on the talus below. By the time I arrived at the top of the fourth pitch (Ahwahnee Ledge), the other party was right below me. I nailed up the fifth pitch (The Garden Pitch) and rappelled diagonally back to Ahwahnee Ledge just as the other group arrived. When they discovered that I was alone they declared my certifiably crazy! They jugged my ropes and fixed one more pitch by head lamps before we all settled onto Ahwahnee Ledge for the night.
Day 3 - The Big MistakeI spent most of the day freezing on Ahwahnee Ledge waiting for the other group to climb their fixed ropes to the top of the sixth pitch.
I followed and continued my slow journey upwards. As they disappeared over a large overhang, I bit my lip to prevent myself from shouting, “Take me with you! I don’t want to be left alone on this fucking cold rock wall! Take me with you!” I growled to myself as their shouts faded away. Once again, I was alone.
I managed to climb only one more pitch before nightfall. It was so damn cold that I wasted a great deal of time thawing my hands in my arm pits. Darkness was approaching so I set up the hammock at the top of the seventh pitch. I had managed to climb only seven pitches in 3 days. It was going to take two more days to reach the top.
While settling into my hammock for the night, a careless slip sent my bivouac gear sailing into the void. In a futile gesture I reached out with both arms, as if somehow the gear would rise back up to save me from the deadly cold. But my gear kept going downwards. My sleeping bag and down jacket floating earthward in graceful, slow spirals. I watched everything settle on the talus 1,500 feet below. Now I was really alone.
“Will I survive the night?” My thoughts focused on this question. All I had was the cagoule that I was wearing. I curled up, pulled my feet inside then pulled the drawstring closed.
(For those of you who still have a full head of hair, a cagoule is an old-fashioned, extra long, coated nylon anorak with a drawstring at the bottom that can be used as a bivy sack.)
“Am I to die up here, to be later found as frozen corpse, uselessly huddled up in this hammock?” Birth and death suddenly seemed disturbingly similar: I would be found in the fetal position.
The frigid night seemed to drag on for an eternity. Snow was blowing all around me in the darkness. I kept moving to fight off the shivers. I watched automobile lights pass up and down the Valley. The tourists below were oblivious to my frightful predicament up on the wall.
Hours and hours passed but it was still dark. “Has time really stopped? Maybe I am already dead. Maybe my consciousness is destined to spend eternity here, at the precise moment of my death. I will never see morning. I will never live to see my 20th birthday...The wind…is getting stronger, colder…” I was getting more and more frightened with each passing hour.
Day 4 - SummitDawn of the fourth day arrived. Like a rusted machine without any oil, my limbs creaked and cracked as I started climbing again. I knew that I had to top off that day. I had to climb four more pitches so I started climbing at a frenzied pace. My hands grew so cold that I couldn’t grasp anything. But I couldn’t afford to let that slow me down.
Later in the afternoon I reached the summit of the Leaning Tower in a heavy snow storm. I sat on top with my legs dangling over the edge and cried for thirty minutes.
I descended the Leaning Tower Chimney, rappelling about five times and down-climbing the rest of the way. When I reached the talus field below I discovered that I was too weak to walk. My body gave up but my mind hadn’t yet. I couldn’t quit now.
Just as I reached the road, darkness fell and the storm intensified. A deluge of mixed rain and sleet soaked me to the bone. The walls above were plastered with snow. I stuck out my thumb to hitch-hike back to my car at Yosemite Lodge, but no one would stop for me. Exasperated and utterly spent, I lay down in the road in pools of freezing water and cried.
Finally a woman in a pickup truck broke the blackness and gave me a ride. There at Yosemite Lodge I found my girlfriend parked next to my car, patiently waiting for me. I fell into her arms and we both cried.
That night another young solo climber froze to death on the Nose Route on El Capitan. He was only one pitch below the summit.
EpilogueMy girlfriend in San Jose, California, noticed that I had turned up missing. She figured that I had gone to Yosemite (where else?). She found my car in the Yosemite Lodge parking lot and waited for me. After a couple of days she grabbed a pair of binoculars and began searching the cliffs. She found a solo climber on the Leaning Tower. She didn’t recognize my clothing, but she did recognize my etriers.
I never soloed a big wall again, but I did start to free-solo multi-pitch routes after the Leaning Tower. I soloed many peaks in Colorado and the High Sierra. I have also spent many weeks hiking solo in the Sierra backcountry. Soloing is a part of my other sports as well. I am a solo caver and a certified solo scuba diver. I have made some solo ski descents, including the U-Notch and Thunderbolt Couloir in the Palisades, and the Mountaineer’s Route on Mount Whitney.
Most of the time I solo for lack of a partner, or just because I can. I am not searching for anything anymore. I found what I needed to find. Now I solo just to have fun.
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