Big Dreams and Short Days

I wish I could say that I was happy to log miles and miles of moderates that week. Before I go any further, I have to say that every climb we had done to that point was memorable, thanks to Rusty and Bruce. Maybe it’s the pride of my youth or that my ambitions tend to force my eyes upward, but all week I had craved something a little more “heroic,” as Rusty would say.


It seems that Kris and Eli have the same disease. Inevitably the conversation sparked around day six regarding our goals. Steck-Salathe, Half Dome, and El Cap were all mentioned, but one suggestion seemed to stand out among the rest – the Rostrum. And so, with an supplementary nudge from Rusty to seal the deal, we settled on the North Face of the Rostrum. This was to be our day to see if we could measure up to one of Yosemite’s prized hardman routes.

The day started at a more reasonable time than days past. Not expecting to have any problems getting in nine pitches, we opted to bypass the shortcut to pitch four and start at the very bottom of the route. Today we will be climbing our way back to the car.

To our disappointment there’s a party starting as Kris and I arrive at the base. Eli is soon to follow and we expect him to be able to swing the first lead without delay. We assume a party of three will be quickly left behind by the duo, anyway. It’s all good.


Kris and I pass the time being astounded at the overhang of the route. Even from the ground, the headwall that is seven pitches away is formidable. Knowing what pitches lie between here and there, we begin to appreciate the arduous day that loomed. We didn’t know the half of it.

Kris and Eli led the first two pitches without incident. We managed to keep pace with the party ahead and at times were even held up by them, bolstering our confidence. We began the day knowing that this would be one of the most challenging routes any of us had done, but as we cruised the start of the route, we were increasingly reassured that the summit was within our reach.

Pitch three was my lead. Buzzing from knocking out the first 5.11 pitch of the day and, in retrospect, a little over confident, I slung the rack over my shoulder and started climbing with little forethought.

I place my first piece and launch into a deceiving lieback, but within a few moves I am unexpectedly dangling from the end of the rope. “Huh, Oh well,” I say to myself. “So much for freeing the route. I probably would have hung on the 5.10 offwidth anyway. Back to work.” I check the piece. Not entirely satisfied with the placement, but confident I’ll pull the move this time I push on. SLIP. “Dammit! Wait, still falling. Oh, no! The piece blew!” I fall directly on the anchor. When the rope finally catches I’m 20’ below Eli, but happy he built a solid anchor. A quick check to make sure everything still works and some comforting words from my friends puts me back on the sharp end and through the pitch.

A short fourth pitch puts us at a spacious ledge where we enjoy an earned PB&J. We’ll need the rest because staring us in the face is the crux 5.11c finger crack. It’s my lead so I get the rack ready. As the fellas eat, I can feel my left ankle start to swell. It seems the fall on the last pitch left me a little more than shaken. Knowing this I’m anxious to get the next pitch out of the way before I hurt too much.


Three words. Be A Utiful. That’s what this pitch was. Secure fingers leading to a great rest, a well protected traverse and a rewarding 50’ of 5.9 hands make it one of the better pitches on the route. Eli was next, who had a much fun as I did. He organizes gear while Kris joins.

Eli’s lead of the next 5.10d was superb and inspiring enough to keep our momentum going. Sustained hands lead to a devious move out the roof and 5.10d lieback to the anchors. I have my romp on the pitch and join Eli. At the belay, I make a nonchalant comment about the disappearing act the sun is getting ready to perform. However, in the wake of our confidence this is not taken to heart by either of us. Moreover, we discuss the malevolent 5.10 off width waiting to make little boys out of us. We laugh to each other, more than willing to jump on the grenade, but secretly hopeful that Kris will step up.

Thank GOD! Despite the demand of the lieback, Kris is prepared to tackle the OW. Out come the #4 and #5 camalots. I feel guilty, but know that Kris is more than qualified… Unfortunately it was a little more than we bargained for and Kris ends up effectively aiding the pitch. And with each pull on the cams, mine and Eli’s guilt wells up.

Throughout the pitch, while fighting shame, I’m running the numbers in the back of my mind. “Well I’m guessing we’ve got about 2 hours of daylight. We’ll be another 45-60 minutes on this pitch, leaving us 60 minutes to do the 5.11b hands and another offwidth. Not good.” Eli and I routinely steal worrisome glances while trying to remain confident.

You know all that talk about measuring up, and feeling confident, and “climbing our way back to the car?” That faded quickly as a watched the sun dip out of sight while sitting two pitches from the top. At this point, it was pretty clear what the course of action should be. A short consultation with Kris affirms that retreat is the safest option. When Eli reaches the belay, it takes little convincing to get him to buy in. And now the adventure starts.

With one headlamp among the three of us we start the heartbreaking rappels. We were so close, but the thought of offwidth in the dark without a headlamp wasn’t striking any of our fancies. By the time we make it to the ledge where we can make the aforementioned 5.6 traverse, it was completely dark.

This was going to take clear communication and steadfast teamwork to make a safe retreat. I did take comfort in the credentials of my partners. I will have to say that despite the epic, we remained optimistic throughout knowing we were in the presence of capable partners.

We quickly developed an effective system of sharing the headlamp that safely got us through the 5.6 traverse and into the hike out. Happy the day was drawing to an end and that we were out of immediate danger, we lumbered through the pitch black forest discussing our meal plans. “Wait I think see stars through the trees. I can see well enough. I’m going to check it out.” I try to light the way as much as I can for Kris as he scrambles up a small boulder, but he quickly comes to a halt. “Chris you should come up here and check this out. All I can see is blackness.” I join him to discover a few hundred foot cliff. “Well, I’m glad to stopped Kris.”

Realizing we are in the wrong place and perplexed at where we could have gone wrong, we find our way back to the traverse. This time meticulous route finding leads us to a clearing that much more resembles our starting place that morning. We still aren’t quite sure…

“CHRIS!”

“Did you hear something?”

“ELI!”

“Yeah I definitely heard something.” “HELLO?”

“ARE YOU OKAY?” “DO YOU HAVE A HEADLAMP?” “DO YOU NEED A RESCUE?”

It was Rusty, Rick, Charles, and Ward. Worried about our obvious absence in the campsite, they had come to look for us.

This comedy of errors is finally over. Thanks to their yelling, we were able to approximate our path back to the cars where we, with relief and embarrassment, retold the elders of the mishaps of the day. It was hard to feel too bad though, remembering the pitches we did get in. And the Rostrum will be there for a long time to come.

A quick call to the girlfriends and wives to assure that we were safe and a few well-deserved beers ended a very long day. “I am going to sleep so late tomorrow.” I naively tell myself before closing my eyes.