Carrots and Peanut Butter: Three Days on the Captain

3 days on The Captain with Jim Toman

After 2 weeks in the Valley cragging on smaller features I was enthralled with the climbing, yet troubled by a simmering restlessness. I spent many afternoons lounging in El Cap meadow staring up at the big stone, awestruck by the size of it, wondering if I would have what it takes to climb it this trip. Then thursday night during one of the Facelift night events, stoked on inspiring slideshows and the constantly flowing kegs, my buddy Jim struck me with the proposition of climbing The Nose. It took me about 2 seconds to agree wholeheartedly, and we started scheming immediately. Neither of us had been on the route, and I had never touched a big wall (or a haul bag for that matter), but we were psyched.

gettin stoked racking up

Deciding our style was simple. Many parties fix ropes and pre-haul bags to ease the logisitics of the lower half of the route, but we were both committed to doing it in simple style, starting at the base and moving in one flow, no fixing, treating the wall as a free climb with a bit of aid rather than a wall climb with some free climbing included.

We racked up friday, got our gear set and haulbag packed, then went out to the Facelift for more inspiring talks and slideshows and "carbo-loading" sponsored by New Belgium brewery. We woke before dawn on Saturday, chugged as much water as possible, and staggered up to the base of the Captain with our loaded bags. I'd agreed to lead the first block, which involved awkward, insecure climbing that shook my confidence in my ability to do the route. The 1st and 2nd pitches have nasty slabby sections with thin holds and tenuous flared pinscars for pro. I decided that I didn't want to risk whipping on the crap gear and taking a massive fall so I resorted to french-freeing through the crux, but as I was pulling on an Alien in a flared pinscar it popped and I somehow mashed myself into a stem and didn't fall. Sometimes a good healthy dose of pucker factor is all it takes to change the headgame. After popping the cam I told myself to "stop dicking around" and I finished the pitch free, gripped but motivated. It was also my first time hauling, so I had to work through some shenanigans with that. And any way you slice it, hauling an 80 lb bag up low-angle slabs is a pain in the ass.

Jim tending the bags on the nasty slab hauls low on the route

Luckily the climbing after Sickle ledge gets way more straightforward. After I lead a double-pendulum pitch into the Stovelegs, Jim took the lead and brought us up the Stovelegs in style, crushing the strenuous off-fist sections spurting expletives into the dusk. We got the bag up to Dolt tower at nightfall and made camp.

Jim cruising the Stovelegs Waking up on Dolt Tower

Day two we woke up psyched for upward progress. Jim lead the first block up to El Cap Tower, up a fun chimney and onward up a steep bolt ladder to the top of Boot Flake, where I lowered him down for the famous "King Swing." By this time it was well into the afternoon and we were pretty drained from the baking heat and complicated hauling situations, but it was my turn to take the rack. The next pitch had two options, the standard route went up a crack to a pendulum to the anchors, but the free variation traversed a face of blobby diorite at 5.12 or 5.10 A0. After all the morning's shenanigans I was psyched on climbing (mostly) free, so I went for the traverse. It turned out much harder than the topo suggested, and I found myself swinging on the end of a fixed sling groping for a small rail, which I eventually caught after several attempts. After some desperate 5.10 (?) moves I found myself in a tenuous position a good 20 feet away from my last bolt with a difficult move between me and the next ledge. One of the beautiful things about climbing is that we find ourselves in hard situations where the decision of how to move on is very simple. It took only a little analysis to realize that I could not downclimb the last moves, I couldn't swing to everything, and I really didn't want to take a 40-ft swinger, so I had to do the moves. Now. I worked a small offset nut and a blue alien into little flares in the diorite, equalized the pieces, and committed to the moves.

I mantled up onto the ledge of Camp 4 beneath the great roof as the sun's fading rays filtered though the California haze to the west and lit the Captain afire with an orange glow. Some of my earliest memories are of Sierra peaks warm with alpenglow on evenings in the wilderness with my dad, and I have always been inspired by the sight. Despite my fatigue after 2 days of work I once again I caught the spell of the sunset and started racking up again. "I'll take us through the Great Roof," I told Jim, "that way we can wake up to free climbing tomorrow and start with momentum." "Whatever, man, if you've got the energy go for it," he said. A fun pitch got us to the base of the Great Roof, and as night set in I started aiding up into the darkness.

There is a unique simplicity to climbing at night; the known world shrinks to a 20-ft circle of light, and I moved upward, high-stepping from placement to placement with Led Zeppelin blasting up across the moonlit wall, an experience I will never forget. At the belay I gumbied for a while trying to set up the portaledge on a blank face, but after much tomfoolery and rope confusion we got the ledge pitched, fired up a tasty dinner of couscous and sardines (in mustard!), and I tried to wrap my mind around the fact that I was going to spend the night on a platform on nylon hanging 2000 ft in the air. I slept great.

The next morning we woke early and spent a few minutes sipping coffee and taking in our ludicrous position on the wall as morning light filled Yosemite Valley beneath us. Life on a ledge requires slow, deliberate movements so it doesn't tip too much, but we managed to eat breakfast and stow our sleeping bags, and inventory our water supply. I had the first block that day, which included lots of hard free climbing. This is what I'd dreamed of for 6 months, for years even, free climbing up in the sky. The exposure of our position pressed constantly at my mind, so it took a lot of willpower to focus on my dream, stare up at the cracks above us, and rack up on the portaledge. We had about 1000 ft of hard climbing above us and 2 gallons of water; we had to fire this thing today. The climbing was brilliant. Climbing off the ledge and liebacking up the Pancake Flake first thing in the morning was unreal, and pitch after pitch of aesthetic, strenuous cracks followed.

looking down from the Pancake Flake Jim all smiles atop the 5.11 thin-hands corner pitch

We had just enough water to keep ourselves functioning, but we were always very thirsty. After aiding the thin crack in the "glowering spot" pitch I saw that the corner widened to a beautiful finger crack--this thing was just too sweet to be aided! I stepped out of my aiders and freed it (barely) and collapsed on the next ledge, fully gassed. However, the thing about wall climbing is that once you finish a lead you can't rest, but instead have to haul for 15 minutes, just more labor.

After a couple minutes rest I ate a GU packet and when Jim reached the belay I racked up for the next pitch, a beautiful 5.11b tight-hands crack in a steep corner, with the promise of cruiser hand jams above. I was exhausted but I wanted to get this pitch so bad, it was my style of climbing. Jim put some Rage against the Machine on the tune box and I fired through the ringlocks and thin-hands until I pumped out and fell just before the climbing eased up. I guess we can't always ask for strong performances on day 3 on a wall.

gassed after the Glowering Spot pitch, very

un-psyched on setting up the next haul

After resting I finished the pitch on stellar handcracks, then racked up for my last lead, the Changing Corners pitch, which climbs a mind-blowing DOUBLE handcrack and proceeds to a bolt ladder (unless you climb 5.14). Aiding around the corners was tricky but easier than I feared, and after hauling I was psyched to pass the lead to Jim for the last 4 pitches. 4 pitches! after 2 and half days on the wall, the top felt so close. As Jim crushed a strenuous 5.10+ layback out a roof, I stared at the water jug and willed myself to not chug the thing. Jim blasted the last 3 free pitches with minimal aid, which I followed in utter exhaustion, then aided up the final bolt-ladder to the summit. Once again, the fading sun set the Captain aglow as he made the last haul and I jugged the final pitch to the summit. Some generous soul left us a can of salmon and a package of cream cheese (we think it may have been the French party ahead of us), and we tucked into that with our remaining crackers, sipped a little water, and passed out on the summit.

Jim crushing the 5.10+ layback the final haul

We climbed The Nose in 3 days in one push, freeing the majority of all but 5 pitches, to 5.11. It was by far the hardest thing I've ever done; there were times when I was so gassed I just wanted to give up, or while incessantly hauling I'd let my mind wander to daydreams of pools of cool water and a beautiful girl in a grassy field, but pitch by pitch we found the resolve to continue upwards at a steady pace. It is an amazing rock climb. Now, spending glorious days of rest on the valley floor, eating, drinking, swimming and lounging in El Cap meadow, I enjoy the luxury of rest but I can't help craving life on the wall, the hightened state of being we dwelled in, where we bent all aspects of our wills and resources to one simple goal: upward progress.

nothing like waking to a cup a joe hangin out at the Great Roof

it's a long walk down with a haulbag

cheers to Ryan and Angela for meeting us in the parking lot with cold hoppy refreshements

a super refreshing dip in the Merced

The bridge scene, emcee'd by Tom Evans. Tom generously provided us with the following photos he snapped from the meadow, check out his coverage of El Cap climbs at www.elcapreport.com. Tom takes amazing photos and hosts a hangout at the bridge, where he was glad to offer ice-cold King Cobras to some sweaty haggard climbers fresh off the wall.