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My First Alpine Climb

The first time I hiked up Mt. Wilson in Los Angeles, I was convinced that it was the most difficult endeavor any human being could ever undertake. Then I summited Iron Mountain, proudly signed the summit journal at the top, and patted myself on the back. "Good job, Man. Damn good job. You're tough." I thought. Next, I hiked Cactus to Clouds, supposedly the hardest day hike in the country. I thought I was superwoman. 

I've been humbled a few times since then. Once in Peru, when I turned back before reaching the top of El Misti, leaving my stronger companions to summit without me. Another time on Mt. Kenya, for while I made it to the summit - barely, I felt every second of my misspent youth. And now, yet again, on my first Alpine climbing experience. 

I live in Joshua Tree, California, which, according to my partner is a big outdoor gym. At any rate, there is no shortage of climbing there, all of it is easily accessible and low consequence. I am a moderate climber, sticking to 8's, 9's and the occasional 10a. I am quite friendly and outgoing, so I have amassed a cadre of climbing partners of various skill levels, many of whom are more talented than me. When one of my more talented buddies had a partner bail on a climbing trip to the Eastern Sierras at the last minute, he was desperate for a replacement. And I suppose I was the only willing partner he could find. 

I had no idea what I was getting myself into. All I heard was climbing and adventure, and I love them both. So, I went.

A couple days prior to the trip, he sent me links to the information about the climb. I read it all - every instruction, every comment. It was five pitches - two going at 5.8 and the rest in the low 10's.

"Something for everyone." I thought.

I'm typically comfortable on 5.8's, and he's great on the harder stuff. It was just five pitches. What could go wrong?

First of all, how about a wake-up call at 4:00am and a three-hour approach carrying all the gear and water? We studied the topo map the night before. I thought I had it memorized - around the lake, beside the creek, through the meadow, up the tallis field (I knew that would be hard.), across the Dana Plateau, then descend to the climb. It was only three miles. Easy, peesy, lemon squeezy.

Not. Now, I know about the lines. Look carefully at the lines on the topo map. The denser the lines are, the steeper the grade. The steeper the grade, the harder the trail. The lines on our approach were practically touching each other; it was a hard trail. I thought it was, at any rate.

We got to the top of the Dana Plateau, and I was convinced the worst was behind me. I didn't fully realize the heinous nature of the fourth-class descent to the climb. That was some serious stuff. You damn sure did not want to slip there. But I got through it alive. I honestly wasn't sure I would. 

Finally, we were at the base of the actual climb. This was the fun part, and it was my pitch. I was already geared up. I tied in and was off. It was a 5.8 hand crack - nice. There was a short traverse to the next crack - no problem. It became a problem when I made a rookie mistake; I got off route. The climbing became difficult and impossible to protect with the gear I had. The crack widened out so much that I could not get any purchase, even with my fists doubled up. Out I came. Bam! My hip hit the rock ledge. I bounced off that and bam again. My back hit a tree. I lie there in pain for what seemed like five minutes.

"Are you OK?" My partner asked me.

"Yeah" I answered. I wasn't, but I knew that we had to keep going. So, I had to be OK.

"You better lead this pitch." I said. 

Honestly, I felt like lying down and licking my wounds. But this was the Alpine, and that wasn't an option. I built an anchor, brought him up, and he led the rest of the pitch. 

Presently, I heard him shout from above, "You're on belay."

I started out. Every move was painful; every move was labored. This was going to be hard. Eventually, I arrived at the belay. 

"Oye," I thought. "Four more painful pitches to go."

"Hey, I have some Motrin." He told me.

Wow. What a blessing!

"I'll take three."

We continued. He was leading every pitch at this point. By the time I reached the top of the second pitch, I felt no pain, thanks to modern medicine.

It bears mention that this is a popular route; it is visually stunning and the climbing is stellar. As such, it was crowded. And, as fate would have it, there were slow parties in front of us. This translated to spending an extra hour at each belay station, waiting for the parties in front to finish their pitch. At that altitude, conditions tend to be cold and windy, but we were blessed by the sunshine. However, at the top of the third pitch the sun ducked behind the cliff face, and the frigid conditions became real. Between the weather, the bottle neck, and my injuries, the suffer barometer was mounting. And the climbing was getting harder and harder. The altitude was such that you could feel the lack of O2.  At this rate, were we going to get benighted on this climb? Lord have mercy, don't let this happen to us. Then a party on the adjacent climb decided their climb was too hard, and they would finish up on ours. They traversed over and butted right in front of us. I don't see how this could be proper protocol, but they did it anyway, adding to the bottleneck and our wait time. Now, I was certain, we would be spending the night on this cliff face - no food, no porta ledge, no more water, and injured. All I wanted to do was to put my feet on solid ground.

Somehow, maybe by the grace of God or Dan, my deceased Dad, who's ashes I had sprinkled at the base of the climb, while asking for a blessing- (I'm superstitious that way), we finally summited at 4:30. We still had to hike out. And, hey, it's just as hard going down as up. But we did it and lived to tell the story. 

Oh, when I finally arrived at the car and sat down in that car seat, it was an indescribable feeling. So amazing.

It's been a week; I'm still sore and licking my wounds. But you know something? I'd happily do it all over again. What a great experience!

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