By: Zee van Zyl
I pull myself over the final lip of the climb with bloody knuckles and my body frozen to the bone. Steve smiles at me and we congratulate each other on another spectacular climb, but both of us are thinking the same thing. Let's get off this wall.
Steve and I decided to do one last good climb together for our final day in Yosemite, and so it was that we chose to do the Central Pillar of Frenzy on the northeast of Cathedral Peak, directly opposite El Cap on the south side of the valley. First climbed by Jim Bridwell, Roger Breedlove and Dale Bard in 1973, we were told that it was the best 5.9 in the valley, and with 5 pitches at 152m it seemed like a good way to end our visit before we both left the following day.
The weather report said it would be a dry but cool 13°c day so we donned thermals and jackets for the climb and set off to find the route. I had almost fried on the rock every day since my arrival so I welcomed a cooler temperature for the days climb.
Needless to say, we were completely surprised by the 8m high ice slope which greeted us at the base of the wall. We scratched our heads for a few minutes trying to decide the best way up to the climb without sliding down and landing on the scree slope below, or falling down the large gap between the ice and rock wall which, although the better option, would certainly be unpleasant. We opted for the divide and conquer approach, with Steve walking on the lip of the gap and me cutting steps up the slope with a couple of sticks I broke off a dead tree. We met at the top of the slope and quickly roped up. Steve would need to step across the gap to quickly place some gear in the wall before he could change into his climbing shoes. I assured him that if he fell into the gap, I would jump down the slope and in so doing would arrest his fall. He wasn't convinced but nevertheless stepped onto the face.
A few cams were quickly inserted into the crack and he was able to change into his rock shoes before starting up the route. The first pitch was a cold and wet polished corner that required a lot of squirming to get up, but eventually with a gratuitous amount of grunting he reached the top, rounded the corner onto the face and clipped into the anchors. My turn. I tried to follow his example, but as I was carrying the backpack and the extra rope we would need for the abseils back down, I failed miserably after a few metres and without delay, I clipped on my jumars and jugged my way up. A new strategy was formed in which Steve would lead the entire route and I would jumar up behind him. We attached the extra rope to his harness and at the top of every pitch, he would set it as a jumar line and would belay me with the lead rope. In doing this, Steve would be able to practice his climbing and I would be able to practice big wall rope management techniques while clearing the gear from the wall behind him.
Pitch two was a thin finger crack that ended below a roof, and now with our new strategy, we were both up in a short amount of time. It was already getting cold and the clouds above were obscuring what little sun was trying to reach us. A cold wind was blowing down the valley from the west, so we turned our collars up and tackled the third pitch. This had a nice crack that broke through the centre of the roof, and although it looked ominous, Steve broke through and made his way up the face above to the next anchor. I started up and immediately had issues with the roof. I wanted to be on the outside face, but the ropes were pulling me up to the inside and forcing me further under the roof. With a large amount of swearing and kicking, I was eventually released from that terrible position and started making my way up the wall.
Once at the belay, I noticed that there was blood on Steve's hand. We quickly realised that it was all mine, transferred during our regular post pitch fist bump. The roof obviously didn't appreciate my language and, in payment, retained its pound of flesh from my fingers.
We thought about getting out some of the protein bars in the bag for a snack, but it was way too cold to stop moving. Pitch four was a series of thin cracks which forced Steve to move from one to the other, and sometimes having to use both at the same time, before it could be completed. I was soon with him and now there was just one left to the top. We were working so well together we completed the final pitch with no hassle at all. Steve cruised up the chimney and final cracks to reach the anchors then quickly brought me up. Celebratory fist pumps were all we could muster before we packed the gear, fed the ropes through the anchors and started the abseils back to the ground.
As there were three other parties behind us on the route, we descended down to the side and gained the anchors of the route to left. This allowed us to abseil without compromising their accents. Four long rope lengths later, we were on the ground. Gear was packed, ropes were coiled and without delay, we headed down the path and back to the cars.
"Selective memory is a wonderful thing", I mentioned as we walked down the warm path between the large trees and beautiful hillside. While on the route we were freezing and could think of nothing else but getting down, but in the comfort of the forest, we could only remark at what an amazing route that was and at how much fun we'd had.
After spending a bit of time on the beach of the Cathedral picnic area, we shook hands at the cars and said our goodbyes, wishing each other all the best for the future. Although our friendship had only begun a few days earlier, it was one we were sure would not end with this departure.
Lovely writing with beautiful pictures. Thank you for sharing your adventures.