It is a surprisingly thin line between encouraging your children to chase their dreams and self-inflected elder abuse.
Connor bumped the proud weekender ascent up a notch this past spring quarter with a very cool Valley weekender rampage. Between lab projects, midterms, and rainstorms, he snuck in 200 pitches over six weekends, including three consecutive weekend ground-up free El Cap ascents.
After topping out no falls on El Cap's El Corazon in-a-day, the week after freeing Golden Gate in-a-day, Connor ran into some rando on top who joked in passing "The Pre-Muir next weekend?" And so on Thursday night after finishing his last problem set, with the Pre-Muir being the last climbing thought rattling around in his head, he texted me "The Pre-Muir this weekend?" "Thanks for the 12 hour heads-up". Depending on the trait, it's not necessarily so endearing to suddenly find yourself on the receiving end of those inherited traits.
We couldn't escape the Bay until after his only Friday class, Social Dance! This ensured peak Bay Area traffic madness. Arrived late in El Cap Meadows, tossed together a three day haul bag (it was a three day weekend), hauled to Heart, cooked dinner, got to bed at midnight, up early, and started climbing totally exhausted in perfect weekender style.
He casually onsighted the 11 pitch Muir Blast, hiked the 6 pitches of the Muir that share the Triple Direct which he had previously climbed, and cruised the next 7 pitches to the base of the Pre-Muir's jaw dropping pitch 25 stemming corner. We bivied at the base.
Connor's onsight of the Pre-Muir's pitch 25 flawless, relentless 5.13+ stemming corner crux, as a warmup the next morning straight off the bivy(!), was the finest climbing I have been privileged to witness. He plugged in 17 cams, mostly #0, #.1, and #.2s. It is possibly the most impressive, and easily the most gorgeous, single pitch El Cap onsight.
He quickly had us to the base of pitch 31, the last 5.13 crux, while doing all the hauling as he got impatient waiting for his poky partner who was traverse challenged following on jumars. We packed a three day haul bag so he would have plenty of time for good onsight attempts. He could have bivied and saved this last crux for an onsight the next morning. Unfortunately, he had just inhaled a big bag of dried apricots that were now raging in his lower intestinal tract. It was a new high fiber snack that he had never previously tried because why not test your digestive limits 2500' off the deck on El Cap? Topping out asap was suddenly a much higher priority than onsighting the corner. So he quickly went piece to piece working out the placements, lowered, cleaned the gear, pulled the rope, tied back in, and sent. We then raced to the top where we topped out with a humiliating amount of extra food and water. I was enraged but so proud of his effort that I had to muzzle it.
Everyone wet their pants when "Ondra almost onsighted the Salathe!" Except that it wasn't the Salathe, it wasn't an onsight, and it wasn't almost. Connor could not have onsighted the Pre-Muir having previously climbed the six pitches it shares with the Triple Direct. But he gave a master class in big wall onsighting. He casually onsighted, placing all gear, no hand jammies(!), all the new terrain except for two pitches that he then quickly redpointed. He got lost on one 5.13a traverse that wandered up and down and then way left. Once he sorted out where the pitch went, he sent. And a bag of high fiber dried apricots cost him the onsight attempt on the last 5.13 crux corner which he then hiked 2nd go while clutching his sphincter.
Hauling was the correct call so he had the time to give the cruxes a good onsight attempt. But he was so solid and climbed so well that it's fun to wonder what he would have done on an in-a-day, ground up attempt with a partner who could clean traverses.
Kudos to Justen Sjong and Rob Miller for establishing such a stellar climb (except for the sketchy pitch 24 traverse). There have only been a handful of repeats since their first free ascent in 2007 (when Connor was still in diapers). It is a great climb deserving of more traffic.
The Triple Direct links sections of the Salathe, the Muir, and the Nose. All the sections have individually gone free as part of other routes but the Triple had not been linked free.
Six years ago Connor came agonizingly close to freeing the Triple. Twice! Both times he fell on the last move of the Changing Corners. He got frustrated and no longer seemed to be having fun. So he moved on. Knowing when to let go has been key to his love of all things climbing.
Separately, six years ago I inexplicably decided to waste every climbable Valley weekend sitting in my dank basement supporting scoring for USA Climbing. Anne and the kids have a lot more colorful language than 'inexplicably' to describe my self-imposed six year climbing exile.
So we both had Triple Direct baggage. Connor hadn't quite closed the deal years ago and, in what passes for an existential crisis for a 22 year old, was curious if he had peaked at 15 with his Nose free ascent. (He definitely hadn't!). I wondered if the reason he hadn't asked me to climb the Triple again was because he felt I had abandoned him (I definitely hadn't!) by wasting my life scoring. When we did climb I wasn't always present. I would have to stop climbing whenever we had reception to support scoring. He just looked at me sadly while I supported scoring from half way up Half Dome or El Cap. I was worried that he had given up on me for being such a loser.
Fortunately, Tom Herbert and Steve Schneider, legends from bitd and still crushing it, gently nudged Connor to tidy up the Triple. So when he texted me last Saturday "Triple on Monday?" I was super psyched and hoped the timing was just coincidental with my recent scoring emancipation.
On Sunday, Kara and I climbed Wayward Son on Lost Brother. My elbow gave out after a few pitches so I jumared most of it. We rapped and met Connor in the Meadows to pack for the Triple. Kara knew I was still steamed about having hauled extra food and water on the Pre-Muir and topping out hydrated. So while Connor was putting together a three day bag, she told him to "Top it in a day and watch dad blow a fuse."
Kara was still gloating that she had checkmated me on Freerider. She knew I was so darn proud of her and Solveig's tour de force double send on Freerider that I had to put myself under a strict gag order not to rage about their junk show! They were just flexing their indomitable spirits. It was probably the largest free climbing haul bags to combined partner weight ratio ever schlepped up El Cap!
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We finished packing, pre-hauled to Mammoth, got to bed late, up early, and started the climb sleep deprived so as to keep the weekender spirit alive.
The Freeblast went smoothly. A friendly Aussie/NZ aid party, Imogene and Owen, let us pass on pitch 14. In exchange, we fixed their rope and I fat shamed their haul bag. I had no choice. It was ridiculously oversized. Worse, Imogene was proud of it. "I bought it for $50 off Facebook Marketplace!" "You got taken. Your bag should be half that size." "But look how easy it is to find things!" "A haul bag is for hauling, not browsing. Get a smaller haul bag!" Connor was off belay at the next anchor before I could address the junk show on their harness so I had to let it slide without comment.
The Triple Direct adds four hard pitches to the Nose including a wild
5.12d stemming box corner
and the pumpy prize 5.13 Silverfish corner. It's gorgeous!
Connor casually dispatched the Muir traverse pitches into the Nose and
I redeemed my gumby traverse following. Six years ago, I cleaned these
hardy traverses with the haul bag hanging off my waist. Now I
celebrated just getting myself, without the bag, across the traverse!
(Six years ago he was a 100lb pipsqueak. We only took a lead line so
he didn't have to deal with a haul line. It made following traverses
with the haul bag miserable and thus my Pavlovian response to huge haul
bags!)
He got us to the base of the Great Roof at 2pm. It was in direct sun and unclimbable. So he went up to check out the gear placements.
The Great Roof's difficulty varies widely depending on the state of the fixed gear. Small wires, and sometimes tiny cams, come and go throughout the season before falling out in the winter freeze/thaw. Currently, there were some fixed wires getting into the horizontal of the roof but there was no fixed gear in the horizontal itself. He had to place gear on the go across the roof which is the crux as the only placements block the few thin tips holds.
It was too hot in the direct sun so he waited until last light for a burn. Unfortunately, an aid party started up an hour before last light and it was too late by the time they finished to give it a go so we bivied at Camp 4's "bivy for two".
Seven years ago on the Nose, we bivied at Camp 4 where there are two
'ledges'. I gave Connor the upper 'ledge' and took the lousy lower
'ledge'. He slept soundly and never complained. I whined
nonstop. This time we swapped 'ledges'. Only then did I realize that
he had perfectly executed a seven year sandbag! Well played. The upper
'ledge' was unsleepable! It wasn't large enough to fit my head and
shoulders and I slid off until I was hanging in my harness. I bailed
and rapped down to try a lower ledge on the previous pitch. It was
marginally better but I still whined nonstop.
The traffic on the Nose makes the Bay Area look like an abandoned wilderness. The crux of the Nose is passing. If you're much faster it usually works out and is often the highlight of the climb. My most wild pass was once motoring by three parties on one pitch with a very chatty 13 year old in tow. However, Imogene surpassed that when she woke us up the next morning and cheerfully asked if we'd like to pass (for the second time). I've never been woken up to pass!
We jumped out of our bags and quickly packed up our properly sized haul bag. He wolfed down a spoonful of peanut butter for "breakfast" and hiked the Roof first go. It was spectacular. We were very grateful for Imogene and Owen's offer to pass. In exchange, we fixed their rope and I ripped their oversized rack.
We then raced the sun to the Changing Corners. Once the sun hits the Corner it is unclimbable. Unfortunately, we hit the same aid party as the previous evening and lost a 1/2 hour of shade until we could pass. He still had a few minutes of shade left, though, to give the Corner a go.
The Changing Corners is technically unforgiving, requiring a huge bag of granite trickery.
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The Houdini required very precise, tenuous, friction dependent arm barring. That was a problem. Connor's tricep wasn't up for tenuous friction.
But he got close. Darn close before his bloody arm bar slide out of the insanely slick corner. It was pointless to continue burns in the sun. We had to wait until sunset for one last go. This was a huge problem for the friendly aid parties who passed by throughout the day. I had nothing to do for six hours but offer enthusiastic unsolicited keen insights into their atrocious packing. It was like Fat Bear Week up there for oversized haul bags! I shredded all the purely decorative, functionally useless overpriced clutter on their racks (Rockie Talkies, PASs, extended raps, coordlettes, monster cams, cleaning tools, hexes, etc). But I was forced to stand-down on the hand jammies. These were aid climbers so I had to let the jammies slide without comment even if it did rip my soul.
The three parties we had passed, twice each(!), now passed us again while we waited out the sun. And so for the third time we swapped places with Imogene and Owen. Imogene cheerfully let us pass on the Muir, woke us up to let us pass again the next morning, cheered on Connor on the Great Roof, and laughed off an hour of my relentless moaning about her haul bag that could double as a bouncy house. In exchange, Connor peed on her. The kid might casually dispatch partial differential equations for fun but he seems utterly baffled by wind direction while peeing off a small crowded ledge? Fortunately, Imogene even took that with good cheer. Thanks Imogene! And sorry.
On the last light burn he got as close as you could get without sending. But unwilling to top out early and listen to his dad go off on the extra food and water, he peeled again on the last move. We bivied.
The next morning he once more slid out of the bleeding arm bar. But this time he spent two minutes reworking the beta to avoid the bloody arm bar and hiked it the next go!
A super fun Dutch/Canadian aid party watched and cheered his send in awe. They even took the first stable video ever of Connor sending the Corner. They were delirious from dehydration which was infuriating as they just laughed off my rantings about their haul bags. They had three bags tied together at the haul point to ensure the bags hung up on every possible protrusion rather than hung vertically to minimize potential stuck bags like normal people do. This was them after Connor sent. Imagine how psyched they'd have been had I not just spent an hour ripping their shoddy packing. They were even more amped after we gave them the rest of our water.
Connor was thrilled at having dispensed with his Triple Direct baggage and I was relieved my elbow was still attached. A first free ascent of the Triple Direct may have been forgotten for six years but it was well worth the wait!
On the hike down the East Ledges we discussed heading home or climbing for a few more days. He offered to support a "dad climb" but I couldn't let him be that level of bored. So he said maybe he'd go bouldering unless he could find a partner to check out the feasibility of a Free Nose in a Day (FNiaD). That irritated me. I taught Connor everything he knows about ruthless partner manipulation. And now the grasshopper thought he could out partner manipulate me? Oh please! He pretended not to know that I knew that he knew that there was no way in hell he was going to become a Valley bouldering bro on my watch! So I grabbed my jumars and headed straight back to the base of El Cap.
He packed the day pack, throwing in twice as much food and water as necessary. As part of my new non-judgement acceptance for stupidly overpacked bags, I bit my tongue and railed less than usual.
Our only goal was to get to the Changing Corners, pitch 29, before it went into the sun at 11am so he could give it a good burn. We woke up at 2am, started climbing at 3am, and immediately ran into a party on pitch 1. A rough start but fortunately they were a very friendly NiaD party and let us quickly climb through. He cruised to pitch 6, a short 12a slab traverse into the Stove Legs. He hesitated a bit on a 12a slab which he doesn't do. He mumbled that it felt more like 13a than 12a which he definitely doesn't do. He downrates everything. So I'm thinking he really messed up the beta on this one.
He flowed effortlessly and casually had us to a pitch below the Roof by 7am. And then things went south.
This trip report notwithstanding, Connor has no future as a big wall free in-a-dayer as he inexplicably refuses to poop on demand! Taking care of morning business before leaving the ground is the only non-negotiable for an in-a-day ascent. Yet he stubbornly refuses the most basic prereq. Suddenly, he stopped climbing below the Roof and grabbed a wag bag. Not to share TMI, but I had no idea a wag bag could hold such volume. No wonder the 12a slab felt stout. That volume of new material could no way have been produced since leaving the ground. He could have taken care of most it at 2am as planned if he was not so stubborn. Instead, he handed me the heaviest wag bag I have ever had the misfortune to be handed. I once changed his diapers but now he's just trolling me.
The unnecessary pit stop was a fatal blow to our hope of hitting the Changing Corners in the shade. An aid party had snuck in during our digestive timeout and had just started up the Roof. Aiding the Roof is the major bottleneck on the Nose. It takes most aid parties an hour with no opportunity to pass. Our free in-a-day scouting mission was toast. We cooled our heels at the base of the roof for an hour.
Once the aid party finished the Roof we continued our day. Connor
absolutely floated the Roof, first go, placing lots of tiny gear on
lead. It was wild.
We topped out by lunch where I lost it. I had jumared an indefensibly oversized bag that now weighed more at the top than at the bottom thanks to his recalcitrant bowel schedule! Kara got her wish, though. I blew a fuse at topping out with *all* our food and water. But it was the *five* working headlamps that sent me over the edge. His packing license has been permanently revoked!
While I grumbled about the extra headlamps, he soaked in his morning's no-falls free Nose!
This week I received my Medicare card, scheduled a colonoscopy, and jumared El Capitan, twice. I might be sending my body mixed signals. And I couldn't be happier! What a magnificent week!
-Jim
Reading Dad's old trip reports from his saga on the Salathe, it's clear that one of the biggest privileges I've had growing up was a dedicated climbing partner willing to support any mission. I take his trip reports as a warning of how quickly the partner hunt can go south, so when Dad took out his elbow climbing on a recent Eastern Sierra trip, I remembered his sole criterion in his partner searches -- that they have a pulse -- and didn't say anything. Instead, I asked if he wanted to climb the Triple Direct.
A few years ago, we set off for Half Dome days after he'd injured his knee. We hadn't even gotten to the far side of the parking lot before he noticed he'd forgotten the ibuprofen. That wasn't a good sign; normally he doesn't notice he's missing things until he needs them (I needn't remind readers of what happened the last time he forgot something on Half Dome). So as a test, this year, I didn't pack any ibuprofen in the Triple Direct haulbag. He didn't notice it was missing during the prehaul mission, so we were good to go!
As it turned out, my little experiment was fairly accurate: his elbow didn't flare up, and on the first day we cruised through the Freeblast and the Muir portion of the route, arriving at camp IV, right below the Great Roof, just in time for the heat of the day. We'd planned for a full day to get to that point, but I had to climb the Muir portion quickly to get out of the way of a very nice aid party we were passing in order to spare them Dad's heckling. I apologized profusely, but I'm not sure I climbed fast enough to save them from his tirade about the size of their haul bag. Fortunately, though, climbing quickly gave me an opportunity to (re)work the Great Roof after six years away from the pitch.
I have baggage with the Triple Direct, and most of that baggage involves the Great Roof and Changing Corners pitches. It's always intimidating to start leading up a pitch as long and sustained as the Roof, and it was even more of a challenge with six years of doubt hanging over me. But when we had to scramble to get ahead of the aid party the following morning, all that went out the window. In spite of, or perhaps because of, the rush to get to the pitch before anyone else, I didn't have time to stress about sending it or spiral into any self-doubt at all. Without a warmup, I was able to dispatch it first go of the morning, and we were on our way to Changing Corners!
We arrived at Changing Corners just as it was going into the sun, where we met Will Moss, whom I'd rapped in with a week earlier to refresh Changing Corners. He had rapped in again and was throwing top rope laps on it in preparation for an attempt to free the Nose in a Day. Climbing on that pitch with Will was pretty wild -- we had completely different methods! While I tried to use the pinscars in the back of the corner, he liebacked the outside while bumping a kneebar. As he climbed out, Dad and I settled in at Camp VI for a long afternoon waiting for the sun to pass as he heckled every aid party that passed. The glee in his eyes as he told them they'd packed incorrectly was met with only blank, dehydrated stares as the poor aid climbers wondered if they were imagining the old crusty in front of them or if he was actually there.
That evening, I gave Changing Corners an attempt, only to slide out of an armbar at the very end of the pitch as a result of the sweaty, warm conditions and my increasingly bloody right tricep. That meant another night on the wall, but the next morning I fell in the same spot, the back of my elbow now bleeding profusely. I knew the armbar wouldn't work, and I knew I couldn't stand another six years of heckling from all the Valley locals about the Triple Direct. Another aid party was approaching Camp VI, so I quickly worked out a new method for that exit move which didn't involve an armbar, lowered back to Camp VI, cleaned the gear, and apologized to the aid climbers for whatever Dad was about to say. I tied back in and started leading up. With no armbar to slide out of this time, I sent the pitch! A few hours later we were on top, finally done with the Triple Direct!
Despite my success on the Triple Direct, a nagging perfectionist voice inside me was annoyed it took so much work. After all, I'd freed the Nose seven years prior. Was the best I could do after seven years of growth really just eking out the same crux pitches with a slightly harder start? And so, two days later, Dad and I found ourselves packing up for another ascent of El Cap, this time without the hauling. The strategy was clear: it would be a free-as-can-be NIAD, and we'd use the full 24 hours if necessary. That meant, to quote Dad, bringing an "excessive" amount of water (1.5 liters per person), an "absurd" amount of food (enough to last us the day), and "too many" headlamps (I packed each of us a backup).
We got to bed early and started climbing at 3AM. The bottom of the route went fairly smoothly, arriving at the Great Roof at sunrise, just as some friends I'd met in Squamish were starting up the pitch. We waited an hour for them to climb the pitch, then I started up without any expectations. With a proper 19 pitches of warming up, the Roof actually felt easier than it had on the Triple Direct! Changing Corners also felt far easier with the cooler temperatures and armbar-free beta, and we topped out at midday after a no-falls morning! That morning was everything I'd wanted the Triple Direct to be and more, and it was satisfying to have my old project feel so much easier now. I was so happy I could even tune out Dad's griping about the amount of food and water we'd topped out with while I enjoyed our summit picnic.
I'm not going to dignify the (mostly false) bowel-related accusations of Dad's trip report with an answer, but I should probably address the headlamps. Seven years ago, on The Nose, we'd dropped two of our three headlamps from the first pitch, and we had to finish the route with only one headlamp between the two of us. This entailed leading several pitches by headlamp, then shining the light back down on the pitch to give Dad enough light to clip his jumars to the rope. Given our history with butter fingers, it only made sense to bring a few extra headlamps this time. With only 24 hours this time, we couldn't afford yet another Jim Herson headlamp epic. So, I packed four headlamps, one freshly-charged spare headlamp each, but in my 2AM morning haze, I accidentally brought an extra up with us. In my defense, there is precedent for dropped or otherwise broken headlamps in our family, and I couldn't be taking any chances! Still, though, when Dad learned how many headlamps we had, I had to talk him out of jettisoning a few of them.
Headlamps aside, though, it was a great day of climbing and elder abuse! After a childhood of hearing nonstop slander directed at jumars, it was fun to make Dad jug El Cap twice in the same week. Sorry for that, Dad, and thanks for the great times up there!
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