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10 pitches of slab climbing after a month away from the rocks? Climbing at a level one grade higher than you’ve done before? Sign me up!
Jen W. had climbed Crest Jewel on Yosemite’s North Dome about a month ago, and liked it so much she convinced Chari it was a required activity for the coming weekend. I expressed my trepidation, seeing epic suffering written on this one, but Jen promised to lead the two 5.10a pitches. Well, after suffering there is always recovery, right?
Jen, Chari, and I drove from the Bay on Friday night and slept at Harden Flat. We breakfasted at Yosemite’s gate, where we bumped into Matthew Holliman, on his way to hike Echo Peaks and then Arrow and Pyramid. We arrived at the trailhead and sorted gear as Mike and Tanja pulled in beside us to start for the South Face of North Dome. I had not gathered my gear together before we left Oakland, so it took some time for me to get my act together, much to Chari’s chagrin. I guess I deserved some payback for all the efficiency talks I’ve given her on previous hikes.
The approach was a pleasant 4 mile walk through the woods, down to North Dome, which is a little weird. Just before the last rise to the dome, we veered to the west side of it, going down the drainage on a trail that petered out into manzanita. We encountered some slabs that eased our passage, but then we turned to our left to avoid going over the valley wall. Good thing, that. After a little more tree-ducking and trail-finding, we emerged onto the lower slabs of North Dome. Our slab scramble to the start of the route began. I saw a seam in the rock I thought would be an easy way to get up, but I misread the rock. Not only was I huffing up a 3rd class bit of off-width, but I couldn’t traverse over to the start . . . which was also about 100 ft below me. Nice navigating. I gingerly retraced my scramble and humbly joined Jen and Chari at the start of Crest Jewel. Mike and Tanja were spread across the 2nd pitch of South Face; Tanja had completed the first pitch for her first ever traditional lead climb (way to go!).
On Crest Jewel, a 60m rope allows a team to link the first two pitches into one. The 2nd pitch affords some 10a climbing right off the bat, so we deferred to Jen for the first lead. We had some complex plans to switch leads between the three of us, so some rope tricks were sure to follow. We planned on Chari leading Pitch 3, so I would be the middle climber on Pitches 1-2. Jen moved well out to the first set of anchors, and then stepped delicately across to a short seam in the rock. A few more steady moves up and she was past the bolts to the 2nd anchor. I didn’t find Pitch 1 to be to difficult, but I was following and it was only 5.8. The 10a section gave me some pause. The cross-over wasn’t too bad, but moving up afterward was difficult. Twice the word “falling,” came to my lips, but it died there as my shoes continued to hold. How did the first ascent team use tennis shoes on this? Chari followed after me, but the 10a section spooked her enough that she didn’t want the next lead. No problem, but with the set-up Jen and I had made, it was going to be easier for Jen to take the lead again. Chari would be middle climber, and I would follow, trading leads with Jen as we ascended. In that order, the climb went fairly well. I had Pitch 4, a 5.8 pitch. After following Pitch 3 and collecting all the draws, I could just motor past them without stopping and begin my lead. That probably helped keep my brain straight so I wouldn’t worry about leading on the slab. It was uncomfortable at points, but I moved past the difficult parts quickly to avoid slipping. Funny how that works on slabs; you move so fast that observers think it must be easy for you, when it’s anything but that! Pitch 6 was also mine, a 5.9 that had an odd step-up near the end. Jen suggested traversing left of the step, using it as a shallow undercling and then coming around the side of it. As I stood up at the step up, I could see some nice knobs right at the limit of my reach. With both hands on the first grip I’d had all day, I stepped up and over the crease, continuing to the anchors. Both Chari and Jen, of somewhat short stature than myself, found it considerably easier to make the move around to the left.
Pitch 8 was where things came apart a little, but not because it was the most difficult, oddly. Jen had the lead, and moved well over the 10a section that began immediately after the anchor. I give her credit for fearlessness! Then it was just a matter of where the route was supposed to go. My SuperTopo suggested going along a faint dike for 6 bolts, then heading up a few bolts to an anchor, 145 ft in all. This I told Jen, and then quietly I hung around at the belay station for a while. I looked over at the rope and saw that Jen had about 30 ft left, but looked to be progressing steadily. The mathematical part of mind swung into action. Thirty feet left, plus maybe ten at most in the anchor with Chari, meant Jen was a little over 160 ft out, and she didn’t look like she was setting up a belay any time soon. We yelled out our concern, but Jen thought she was nearly to a bolt, although couldn’t see an anchor. When she got to the bolt she asked if she had about 50 ft of rope left. “NO!” She was out of rope, and the dilemma was on. Rechecking my topo, I was sure she had gone too far to the right, picking up the “old bolts” the topo did show. Well, crap.
Our strategy became this: Jen seemed to have missed the bolts heading up after bolt 6, so she would clip into the bolt she was at and kind of belay Chari up. “Kind of” is because I would belay Chari from a proper anchor as if she were on lead, but Jen would give Chari the confidence of having a rope to follow. Chari would go out to bolt 6, spot the up-bolts, and lead that section to the anchors before belaying Jen and then me up to her. She wasn’t thrilled about that short lead, and it retrospect, I should have taken her spot, for several reasons. I couldn’t see all the bolts from where I was, so I counted to myself as Chari climbed. One, two, three (nice job on that crux, Chari), four, five . . . . . . six? Jeez, that 6th one was way out there, and now she was almost to Jen. Well, now we’re in a bit of a pickle. Jen was on one bolt, and Chari was on one bolt (separate bolts, though, yay for that). That stretched out slab between bolts 5 and 6 presented a stretch they were unwilling to downclimb.
New strategy (and we’re not real proud of this one): Chari was now tied off back at my anchor. Jen was going to climb up to where she saw another bolt and keep going. As I write this, it seems like this should be a quick operation. It wasn’t. Jen and Chari were trying to develop safe ways to get us out of there, but I was all the way down at my anchor, unable to see their situation or do anything to help. I hung in that harness for a long time, appreciative that Half-Dome and Clouds Rest gave me plenty to look at in the interim. I heard Jen up above, and she thought she could top out the entire climb, finding few bolts but trying to make an anchor up in the rocks. I had a lot of time to think. First, we were strung out on over 100m of rope, with only me at a redundant anchor. Granted, there were a lot of bolts between us, but, uh, still. Second, I figured that long stretch between bolts 5 and 6 was surely a problem. Bolt 6 must be one of the “old bolts.” Dear God, please let that not be a 1/4” manky thing. I also watched the shadows of the valley run disconcertedly high on Half-Dome. I still had to get up the crux, and it was going to be dark soon. Thank you, inventor of head lamps, but I was giving trial to all sorts of situations we might face in the coming hours.
Finally, Jen was off belay at a suitable anchor and pulled the rope tight on Chari. Our chain belay began again as Chari belayed me up. I wasn’t picky about climbing this section clean, and I touched each bolt as I made the crux moves; I ain’t proud, and we needed the speed. Soon, I came to bolt 5. At most, 10 ft above me was another bolt. At most, 10 ft above that was another bolt. At most, another 10 ft above that was a third bolt. Sigh. Curses. Regroup. I moved along a dike to the first “old bolt” and was relieved to see that it was new-ish, a shiny 5-piece 3/8” expansion bolt. I clipped into a bolt next to Chari, and she continued up to the top on Jen’s belay. I nearly ran up the 5.6 (or so) slab in near darkness after that. As I clamored over a dike, I figured it had to be the traversing dike from pitches 9 and 10. Yep, a three-bolt anchor was 10 ft to my left. Jen had run right by them. I give her credit for confidence and boldness on that run-out to get here (50ft at least), certainly, but jeez, how many bolts did we just go by?
We regrouped at the top, too late even for the sunset. My anger and frustration at the entire incident melted away before I could even say anything. We were safe, together, and faced only an on-trail walk-out to get back to the car. Really, this isn’t so bad at all. It wasn’t a fun four miles, but we made it back at a steady pace, with few rests, just before 11 pm. A note from Mike and Tanja told us they had topped out on North Dome, waited until 5:30, and then continued on for burritos in Oakland. Mmmm, burritos. Heartless of them not to bring some back to us! A few snacks here and there, and then we elected to sleep at Harden Flat rather than push on to home.
On the drive back, I thought of numerous other ways we could have escaped our situation, including some better ones that involved getting the climbers back to bolt 5 safely. I haven’t climbed on bolts often, but I’ve got more tricks in my head now.
--msw
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