I recently interviewed myself for the Touchstone Climbing Gym blog that I write. Check it out:
Touchstone Blogger and Bay area rock climber, James Lucas has been climbing for more than a decade. Beginning his climbing career as a self proclaimed "punter", James quickly progressed to a dirtbag rock jock when he moved from New England to Yosemite Valley. He's constantly on the road rock climbing and recently made an ascent of his first big wall free climb- the Westie Face of the Leaning Tower (5.13 A0). Oakland Manager Lyn Verinsky made a poignant observation, stating, "James would have sent his route months earlier if he had taken my advice about apple fritters being the best pre-send food. Instead he had to use hard work and tenacity." He took a moment from his "hard work" shamelessly self promoting and being a rock climbing "Spray lord" to talk to the Touchstone Blog.
What was your recent ascent of the Wesite Face, the free variation to Yosemite Valley's Leaning West Face of the Leaning Tower like?
Well, first of all- I'd like to say that I'm kind of a big deal. If you don't know who I am then you should. I recently wrote one of the Dirtbag Diaries about being Yosemite's Next Top Idol. I'm pretty much the greatest thing to ever happen to climbing. But enough about me let's talk about you. What do you think about me?
Uhh...I think you avoided the question. How did you prepare for the route?
I am not naturally gifted in the least. My tenacity makes up for my lack of talent. I spent a couple months bouldering in Bishop, sport climbed in Sonora, and then tried the route a bunch. When I couldn't send, I took a short break, hung out in Berkeley and tried really really hard to redpoint the green 12c at Ironworks. One of the banes of my existence is my inability to climb well in the gym. I went back to Toulmne Meadows, did some hard sport climbing, then headed to the Leaning Tower. The crux for me was having enough power endurance on the 5.13 pitch. The lead cave at Ironworks really helped. I'm hoping to free El Capitan soon.
How did you get your Valley nicknames?
I have two. The first one, "Peaches" was given to me by my friend Brian "Coiler" Kay. It's after James and the Giant Peach. The second one, "Big Fall James", was due to taking a 100 foot fall in Joshua Tree while free soloing on Intersection Rock. I fall a lot. I prefer "Peaches"- makes for better pies.
You spend most of your time traveling and rock climbing. Do you have some sort of dream career along those lines?
Absolutely! I want to be on the cover of Martha Stewart's Home Living. I spend a lot of time baking pies. I just made a cherry pie for the staff over at Ironworks and I'm planning on making a pie for Lyn Verinsky, the manager at Oakland. On rest days, I really really like making pie. Either the Martha Stewart thing or I would be really into winning the lottery. Then I could buy a really nice RV and park it below some rocks for a little bit and move it when I wanted. It'd be way more baller than my station wagon.
Check out more of James' writing, published and unpublished work, on his blog- Life of A Walking Monkey
May 2010- A long streak of white crap runs from above the door frame down towards the handle. I used the sleeve of my dirty hoodie to open the car door, letting out a short string of obscenities. Some may say it was Karma- I'd been parked at the fifteen minute registration parking for the Yosemite Lodge for the better part of an hour. I would say it was shit. Long white shit on my car. Yosemite was just a ditch and I was over it.
I had already given up. I lowered myself out to jumar the rope on the first overhanging pitch. I didn't really think I would send the West Face of the Leaning Tower. The free climbing begins at a small stance 600 feet off the ground at a small stance and above a 200 foot bolt ladder. I had tried the crux pitch four times a few days prior and wanted to go on this mission with Alex to retrieve my fixed line. I didn't want the pressure of sending. I would try once more since I was up here.
My feet pasted against the wall and I ratcheted up to a small pin scar. A thousand feet swam below me. I moved up the vertical granite wall. The 12b warm up felt nothing like a warm up. Soon, the outside edge of my foot pressed onto a small foothold, I climbed the crux above a copperhead. I climbed smoothly to the belay and set up the top rope for Alex. The West Face of the Leaning Tower
I racked up, and fired up the pumpy beginning. I hung the draw at the crux, grabbed the bad pinch, crimped the hold, and dead pointed- throwing my body to hit a flat edge. I stuck it. I made a few more moves. Two feet away from me was the no-hands rest. I hung off my right hand unable to move any farther. I had completed the hardest move on the route. Then I fell. Total disappointment. Alex finished the pitch to Awhanee, then coercing me to follow him up the much more difficult Wet Lycra Nightmare, Todd Skinner’s 5.13d free variation to Wet Denim Daydream. Alex assured me this was the type of thing that built character and would make me a better climber. I didn’t believe him.
That night, I stopped by the lodge to sedate myself with a philly cheese steak and onion rings. I felt fat and disgusting as I sopped up the last bit of Sysco cheese with a greasy onion ring. When I came out, there was the bird shit on my car. I was over the valley. The last straw. I wanted to puke. I wanted to leave. I wanted to puke then leave. Yosemite was just a big cavern. Who wanted to be in that ditch?
May 2009- Stanley climbed behind a white curtain. He clipped a fixed copperhead, a swaged piece of bubble gum attached to the rock, and threw his heel on the rock as he traverse out. The white sheet of snow fell ten feet away from the rock, leaving Stanley dry. Snows falls all around the Leaning Tower but it’s steep nature kept the rock dry, and allowed us to keep climbing. The site is inspiring. A week later, the snow dried, and Stanley screamed. “Why can’t I do this?” He had just fallen off the crux move on the second pitch of the Leaning Tower. I waited until he calmed down. The effort of our previous weeks of work pressed him. It’s just a pitch. It’s just a rock climb. It’s just another huge formation in the Valley. That’s what we should believe, but it easily becomes more- it becomes a part of our fragile egos as men. The need to succeed, to have the swagger that comes with success, is part of the climb.
A year later, that would be me. I related to Stanley’s frustration, to put so much effort, to fall in the middle of a wall, to know something was possible for you but still fail. I wanted to slam my head against the wall. I felt worn down by the falling, the toiling on the wall, and the pressing desire to finish the project.
May- 2009 I am dogging the pitches in a two day ascent with John Schmid. My foot pastes on the wall. I stare at the anchors, smear my foot, and start to move. Then I’m falling. The tiny brass nut fifteen feet below rips out of the wall. It swings down the rope as my fall is arrested by a cluster of small cams. Mikey had warned me not fall on the top of the 12a R pitch. I was going for it and flew forty-five feet across the wall. This experience is unrivaled excitement. I hate the failure but it solidifies my desire to succeed. I want to return.
Summer 2001- My stomache cramps into a tight ball. I heave twice, then puke a thin fluid. I wipe my mouth and continue climbing. I was not sure if Thane had put his head through the neck of his shirt or if he’d stuck his moppy head through one of the other enormous holes in the thin cotton. From behind the counter of the Yosemite climbing shop, I talked a mean game. Wall climbing? No problem. I grabbed a cam off the wall and pulled the trigger. Easy stuff.
My first wall route- just before I started puking.
A few days later, a party of three rappeled past us, bailing off the West Face of the Leaning Tower. They tell us there is a ton of water at the ledge. Thane decides we should dump our water so we don’t have to haul it to the midway ledge. When we arrive, we realize the party had vastly overestimated the amount of water. I lead the next two pitches. It is hot. I am dehydrated. I puke leading the boulder ladder pitch. Thane yells at me for not clipping enough bolts on the ladder or maybe clippin too many. We spend the night on Awhanee This is my first real wall route. I pour a little water into my mouth and swallow too fast. I puke again.. “Stop throwing up, you’re wasting water,” Thane says. In the morning, we summit. I never climb with Thane again. Wall climbing is suffering. I need to find something better. Wall climbing is not where it’s at.
May 2008- Mikey and I let our feet hang a thousand feet off the ground. We kick our heels off the ledge a pitch from the summit of Leaning Tower. Mikey just dispatched the strenuous and steep roof pitch and wanted to rest before tackling the final 5.12. We talk about nothing in particular. We just kick our heels. This is where it's at.
Fall 2002- I am a fat 21 year old working for the North Face store in San Francisco. I cooerce Rob Miller into taking me on one of his free climbing adventures. I just want to be in the Valley, to see what big wall free climbing is like.
We hike up the Gunsight gully, the steep trail between Lower and Middle Cathedral, heading towards the top of Bridalveil falls, and the summit of Leaning Twer. A hundred feet away from the top of the waterfall, we cross the raging river. The rock is slick. The water is running fast. Horrified, I step into the cold and try not to think about falling in, heading down the falls, and drowning- being pummeled into the talus below and sprayed with 10,000 psi of Sierra run-off. This is one of the scariest moments in my life.
Rob traverses out the last pitch to the belay, where I sit and marvel at the thought of him free climbing so high off the ground. Watching him climb breaks a mental barrier for me. Big wall free climbing can be done. The rappelling into the top, the river crossing, these things are part of the process- part of the colossal amount of work involved in big wall free climbing. The granite softens under Rob’s touch, allowing him to move smoothily along the golden rock of the tower. Someday I tell myself. Someday that will be me.
Jumaring the first 200 foot bolt ladder
June 2010. Lucho told me how nervous he was before he sent the Teflon Corner- the crux pitch to freeing El Capitan. He offered solid advice about breathing, relaxing, and performing. We arrived in the parking lot at 6 am. No one is on the route. We enjoy the solitude of the wall, simul-climbing up the bolt ladder, and then free climbing the route from the stance. I fell on the second pitch, and lower back to the belay to try again. I was nervous. A few minutes later, after hanging with Lucho, I am poised at the crux, this time I send. I continue up the route, climbing without falling again. I stop for a moment on the summit. I want to revel, to rest on my laurels. To recall the experiences, the beauty of the climbing and the spot, the toiling and the friendship, all of it. Then I look at El Cap. My feelings of success and nostalgia are quickly washed away by my desire for more.
El Cap
Below are a couple notes from Leo Houlding who made the first free ascent of the Westie Face.
The West Face of the Leaning Tower by Leo Houlding
The West face of the Leaning Tower was first climbed by Warren Harding, Glen Denny and Al Macdonald in 1961.
In characteristic style he drilled over 50 bolts through the initial ridiculously steep, “impossible” wall to where an obvious discontinuous line of grooves leads to another 30 bolt ladder, through a large roof to the top.
Leo on the 5.12b pitch off Guano Ledge
Royal Robbins made the second ascent and first ever solo ascent of a big wall dubbing the Tower “ The most overhanging face in North America”. Comparable in angle to Kilnsey North buttress but a thousand feet high and flanked by the mighty Bridalveil Falls the tower is an incredible feature.
The route starts three hundred feet up at the end of a narrow ledge traverse. Halfway up is the Ahwahnee ledge, a luxurious 4/5 person en-suit bivi equipped with in-situ fixed lines (named after the five star hotel in the valley). Harding’s rusty, old bolts where replaced in 1997 by the American safe climbing association, good work boys. This, combined with it’s tactical ease and comparatively short length make the West Face one of the most popular beginner walls in the valley although the extreme initial exposure overwhelms many would be ascensionists.
The usual style is a two or three day ascent with a night at the base and a night on Ahwahnee.
I first climbed the route in a five and a half hour push with Jason Pickles and Ammon Mcneely in October 2000.
The initial bolt ladder would clearly never go (so prove me wrong!) but the rest of the route appeared to be climbable, including a variation avoiding the upper bolt ladder. It looked outstanding, each pitch completely different to the last but at a fairly consistent standard and all incredibly steep.
From the top of the first pitch bolt ladder, a long, steep, shallow groove offered technical pumpy climbing for a hundred and fifty feet to a nasty boulder problem finish on to the Ahwahnee.
Then a unique ramp feature splits the bulging blank face out right to the start of the next bolt ladder. A vegetated seam runs parallel to the bolt ladder and joins it at its end where crack systems continue.
Perhaps Harding drilled past this obvious line to avoid the large concerningly hollow blocks it is necessary to negotiate on the low traverse to the vegetated seam? From the artificial belay (no hands-off rest) at the top of the bolt ladder a fun pitch teasingly graded 5.10+ on the aid topo goes at around 5.11+!
The deceptive roof comes next. A slab below disguises the scale of the ceiling but when one pulls the crux into the back of the cave its size is blatant. Beyond it’s distant lip yet more juggy steepness terminates on a comfortable recovery ledge, a wild pitch.
A final typically overhung corner followed by a traverse top out makes this yet pitch another exciting jummar for the third man!
The traverse top out marks the end of the climbing but is not the true ‘top out’. From the lovely ‘chill out’ finish ledge a scramble above the abyss heads to the knife-edge ridge summit of the tower. Huge slabs of rock overhang the face, guarding the summit except for one small gap. Upon mantling through this window one is confronted with a breath taking view of El Cap in it’s entirety. The spell binding hanging valley above Bridalveil falls and the cluster of domes that is the Cathedrals makes this perhaps the most spectacular top out in the world.
At the beginning of May 2001 Jason and I found ourselves back on the Leaning Tower with a friend Javier Sepulveda. He is a competent climber but not an experienced wall rat. Jas and I have spent a while hanging around on ledges in high places and, as with anything, one can become complacent. Jav’s intermittent sighs of contentment or yells of
“This is BRILLIANT” reminded us of the majesty of our playground. His terrified cries as he repeatedly ‘took the ride’ on free hanging jummars caused Jas and I endless amusement.
We were in no rush so we set up a comfortable Camp on the Ahwahnee from which to prepare the route for a one day free ascent. I spent an afternoon working the pitch leading to the ledge on abseil, carefully chalking the holds and deciphering the sequences. That evening, to my great annoyance, I fell off the last move of the ramp pitch on my onsight attempt.
The next day Jas aided the upper bolt ladder and linked it into the next pitch. I spent a while on top rope cleaning the seam parallel to the bolt ladder and checking out the gear. The climbing was hard E5 but two ropes would be necessary for protection. At 59.5m a truly long pitch.
To spice things up a bit we got Jav to lead the roof pitch. Not being an aid climber, it took him ages. As his frustration grew our entertainment improved. Darkness was fast engulfing and with one pitch to go along with the harrowing descent there was no time to work the final pitches. We stepped up the pace a little. Jav seemed quite startled by the gear change. We topped out convinced we could free it in a day.
Jav had to leave for work so it was just Jas and I who returned. We jugged to the Ahwahnee and spent the rest of the day wiring the pitch below and the ramp above. Next morning after providing our guests with fresh coffee and breakfast we went up to prepare the next pitch. With the intention of returning for lunch we hauled up the line fixed down from the ledge and fixed it to the top of the ramp, leaving the camp in a ‘lived in state’ complete with unpacked sleeping bags and our trainers. In no time at all we were below the roof with all the climbing to that point thoroughly dialled. It seamed pointless to descend so early so we continued to the top. The roof went at E6 and the final pitch a stern E5.
Topping out again we knew the descent was going to be tough. To save our precious climbing boots we descended the wall, hiked to the road (a considerable walk) and hitched back to camp 4… barefoot! Now we were ready for the push.
On Wednesday 16th May we set off from camp 4. I led every pitch with no falls. Jas followed everything with a couple of rests.
Once again we topped out. This time the elusive Peregrines that we had heard calling but had not seen swooped by to congratulate us.
Intent on returning for photographs we left our gear on the ledge and our fixed ropes in place.
A week slipped by on the valley floor with all our sleeping and cooking gear conveniently stashed halfway up the tower.
Eventually we returned with Corey Rich to make some glamour shots. In the burnt out light of the midday we retired to Ahwahnee to kill sometime before the enchanting light of evening.
Stove and cigarettes dying to be ignited we despaired at our stupidity. Little irritates me more than having no light (except perhaps no skins). We killed the time trying to create fire using various Boy Scout methods. I was absolutely convinced that Corey’s big lens was going to work but alas success was not ours.
By the final red rays of the setting sun I began to pull the ropes on the last abseil and so end our affair with the Leaning Tower. Or so I thought, the ropes jammed. Unwilling to jummar off a kink we ditched the rope and halved our descent loads intent on returning the next day.
Jas’s trip was almost over so we put off rescuing the gear in favour of bagging some more classics. Finally the day of Jason’s bus we went up to get the gear.
Originally a 'throw away' comment the idea we might be able to aid climb the route in under two hours grew on me. Jas was keen so instead of simply freeing the stuck rope from the top of the first pitch we decided to do the whole route.
One hour fifty nine minutes latter we enjoyed the stunning top out once again. Hurriedly we descended and hitched back to camp in time for Jas to pack and catch his bus at Four O’clock.
The next day was my second to last in Yosemite. Hanging in the parking lot, the Pickles gone, the forecast said tomorrow would be 97 degrees and humid. I was not going to get to climb the Captain this trip, was I?
Singer had talked of an ascent of the Nose leaving the parking lot at noon, without taking head torches.
I raised this point, it was 10.15. His eyes sparkled and he put on a pink, sleeveless Lycra top. I could tell he was excited. We began guzzling Red Bull. We started climbing at 12.40.
On the third pitch (of 33) I pulled up all the rope (over 100 feet) fixed it to the belay and set off soloing up a slight ramp. Confronted by a difficult move 10’ higher I stuffed in a piece and pulled on it to reach up. PING! It rang.
I let out the kind of cry one is only capable of making when one is genuinely convinced that one has really blown it. My visions of a 100’ factor 2 fall were narrowly avoided by my feline falling instinct. Clawing down the slab I managed to grind down the ramp and stick the four inch wide belay ledge. Hair raising. In our fifth hour we passed a party who were on their fifth day!
Using the speed techniques of short fixing, back cleaning and simo-climbing we topped out at 7.42 and made it down just before dark. A brilliant day to end a brilliant Spring in the Valley.
The Westie Face (W. Face of the Leaning Tower) E7 A0, 6c, 6b, 6b, 6c, 6b - 800 feet V – A0, 5.13b, 12b, 12c, 12d, 13a, 12c FA: Warren Harding, Glen Denny, Al Macdonald 1961 FFA: Leo Houlding, Jason Pickles 16th May 2001 Speed record: 1.59 Leo Houlding, Jason Pickles 21st May 2001
THE WESTIE FACE
The first free ascent of the West face of the Leaning tower by Leo Houlding and Jason Pickles
On Wednesday 16th May 2001 Jason Pickles and I made the first free ascent of the West Face of the Leaning tower. First climbed by Warren Harding in 1953 with a heavy use of bolts, Royal Robbins called the Tower "the steepest wall in North America". Comparable in angle to Kilnsey North Buttress but a thousand feet high … you get the picture!
Harding’s rusty bolts were replaced by the American safe climbing association in 1997, good work boys.
The initial insanely steep bolt ladder remains an aid pitch and will never go free (so prove me wrong). The free climbing begins where the bolt ladder ends at a small ledge in a shallow, steep groove. The crux pitch a 160 foot, 5.13b (E7 6c) leads one on to the Ahwahnee ledge. A five star perch named after the exclusive Hotel in the Valley.
An unusual hanging ramp pitch then a full sixty metre stamina fest, both around 5.12c bring you to the big roof. It’s size is deceptive but whenyou pull into the back of it it’s scale is clear. About twenty feet of horizontal laybacking then another twenty feet of bridging up a forty five degree overhanging groove. Every hold a jug, the it’s a wild pitch. Extremly exposed E6 6c(5.13a).
A final typically steep corner completes the outstanding, sustained route. The increadible view of El Cap from obtained the summit makes the final mantle perhaps the most spectacular topout in the world.
Achievable in a day and of a semi-sport nature this route is set to become a classic of its grade.
Several days later we made the fastest aid ascent of the same route whilst retrieving a jammed rope. 1 hour 59 minutes sheds a considerable 1.20 off the previous speed record. The same afternoon Jason caught his bus out of the Valley. The next afternoon Jason Singer and I climbed the Nose of El Capitan. Leaving the café at 12 noon, without head torches we began climbing at 12.40. On the third pitch I narrowly avoided a monster fall by catching a tiny ledge 10 feet into the 120 foot screamer! Not the best way to start a speed ascent. In our fifth hour we passed a party who was on their fifth day. Topping out at 7.42 we made it down just before dark.
Westie Face Beta The majority of this route stays dry in a snowstorm. All of the free moves to the beginning of the free climbing have gone free but the pitch itself has not gone yet.
Lynn Hill and Katie Brown on their free ascent
Westie Face Beta
The first 200 are a bolt ladder than comes the free climbing
1st pitch rack- 5.12b- pitons were removed by Dean Potter, making this pitch easier than initially thought. #1 Camalot Stopper Yellow Alien in undercling Bolt Stopper in finger lock Copper head Small stopper or green alien Fixed heads- anchor
2nd pitch 5.12d/5.13a Head Green alien Stopper Orange alien Bolts x 7 or 8 there are two possible finishes to this pitch. A scrunchy V4 boulder problem can be made following the bolt ladder or the third bolt on the belay can be clipped and then a few down climbing moves to a 5.11a variations to the far left- this will take you to Awhanee ledge, where the boulder problem takes you to Guano ledge
3rd pitch 5.12b Bolt with runner Green alien with runner place in arching crac kdown climb to an edge far out left/jump or span. .5 camalot with runner make delicate moves straight up face to traverse ramp Yellow alien Draws x 4 or 5 .75 camalot Draw
4th pitch 5.12a R Bolts x 6 Traverse left below the third bolt. Thin gear, pin, fixed tag line….many ascents either fix their tag line and clip that or pre=place a stopper. I’ve fallen going to the anchor- it is a long albeit clean fall.
5th pitch 5.11d Single set to two camalots, doubles to .5, lots of draws, maybe stoppers. After this pitch climb a short pitch to the base of the roof, climbing across the keystoned blocks.
6th- 11b pitch Thin gear/ stoppers to bolts, yellow alien this pitch can be linked into the roof or a belay can be made at two bolts, below the boulder problem that goes into the rood. This belay reduces rope drag
7th pitch 5.12c 10 draws red camalot optional
8th pitch- 5.12a Gold camalot, draws, small cams, .75 camalot.
The last pitch is 30m and can be rappelled. The roof pitch needs either the tag line to be fixed to the bottom anchor or directionals to be placed on rappel, then the second pulled into the anchor. The next pitch is straight down one or two pieces should be used as a directional. The next rappel from chains takes you to guano ledge. A tension traverse needs to be done to swing to the belay. The next rappel is 60 m to the top of the bolt ladder. The bolt ladder can be rappelled- one person must place around 10 quickdraws, clipping the bolts to stay into the wall.
Every year, hundreds enter the contest to become Yosemite’s Next Top Idol. Only a few earn the honor. Hopeful climbers gather around the cafeteria table in the Yosemite Lodge during the spring season, and again in the fall, to talk about their glorious achievements, to make outlandish exaggerations, and to flex. It’s a seasonal ritual. To move beyond just being another face at the table, to be Yosemite’s Next Top Idol-one of the great Valley climbers, one has to be a true character.
I wanted flashing lights. I wanted to live forever. I wanted real fame. I wanted a Facebook fan club page. The reality though was that I was a just a humble dirtbag rock climber. I fought to be Yosemite’s Next Top Idol. Status as an A-list celebrity, a Yosemite Idol, was way better than being a D list dirtbag.
Everyone moved seats when the heavy hitters came to the Yosemite Lodge cafeteria table. Mouths dropped when Surfer Bob pointed at his wide back and proclaim, “You don’t get a back like that by towing into the little waves. I surf the monsters.” Emaciated trad climbers watched Platinum Rob nibble certified organic high protein whey supplements. They marveled at his dedication. Platinum once brought a scale with him while free climbing El Cap to weigh out perfect proportions of food. He worked out constantly and was also known as “The Dictionary”; he had definition. Magoo, the mouth of this vicious social climbing ladder, wore horn rimmed glasses with coke bottle for lenses. He had hustled his way into a full time career as a sponsored rock climber, and voiced the path to being a Yosemite Idol. He said that to gain true recognition you needed an incredible story- escape captivity from Krygakistani rebels, climb enormous Arctic walls in single pushes, or huck laps on down canyon testpieces then swim back up to Camp 4- feet first. My climbing ability was mediocre at best. I just wasn’t cut out of granite like those guys. For years I’d had a soft spot for donuts. Now, I had a lot of soft spots because of donuts. Still, I wanted to join the elite.
I wanted to train like Surfer Bob. I wanted to Platinumize my body into an extreme fitness machine like Rob. I wanted to be a fully sponsored rock jock like Magoo. I was desperate for the glory that these men had achieved. I wanted to be Yosemite’s Next Top Idol. I wanted it bad so I transitioned from my life as a college student and into one of a dirtbag climber. My first step was to move into a tent in the woods behind University of Califirnia Santa Cruz campus. I had to toughen up mentally so I did.
I hate the rain. I don’t melt in it- I’m not made of sugar but the whole cold and wet thing is not for me. The first season living in my tent, it rained for forty days. The Santa Cruz redwoods became lush and red, the banana slugs emerged from the forest in full force, and I -- I went crazy. I thought about how the flooding water would float my little tent out into the Pacific. I wondered how long it would take me to sail to Australia, or Europe, or somewhere warm with good rock. I festered through the rain, contemplating if suffering through storms was really part of being a rock climber.
One day I found a banana slug on my pillow. I brushed it off to living outdoors in the Monterey Bay. A few mornings later, I woke to the tickle of a tick on my testicles. Alliteration aside, it was not a pleasant sensation. I swore that if I found another critter in my “home” I would go savage. The next morning, I found a worm in my sleeping bag. I showed him no mercy; I buried the bastard alive.
The grim living conditions, the nightly wet bivies, they forced me to escape-to go climbing on the weekends, and ditch school for short trips during the week. I had little to do but climb. I didn’t go to college with high academic dreams. I majored in Economics and Business Management with the intention of getting a job where all I had to do was staple things. My motto was “C’s” get degrees. I dreamed of meeting a nice, young, rich girl and then marrying her mom. I could be a “sponsored athlete,” a rock climber supported by someone’s mom. But my constant trips to Yosemite kept the ladies away. I saw few. Plus, if I mentioned that I lived in a tent in the woods behind campus, they would think I was either an Ewok or Ted Kazynski. This was the kind of thing a true Yosemite Idol needed though- a monastic lifestyle, where there would be no fear of women ever distracting me in my goal from being Yosemite’s Next Top Idol.
Every weekend I was in Yosemite, or at the sport crag, or in the boulders. I commuted to the climbing with Platinum Rob, who gave me training goals, and reminded me to stay thin. At the top of Tuoulumne Meadow’s Private Property cliff, after a hard day of sport climbing, I watched Rob pour a handful of macadamia nuts into his hands. He counted them, plucked three out, and put them back into the bag.
“How many macadamias do you eat Rob?” I asked, stuffing Cheetos into my mouth.
“Well, James,” Rob chewed slowly, relishing his nuts. “I eat 10. But you, since you’re a little- you know” He ballooned his cheeks. “You’d only want to eat seven.”
The Yosemite Idol contestants were all so thin they’d disappear if they turned sideways. I had become mentally tough in my woodland hovel, but if I was to be a contender, I’d need to go on a strict diet. Over the years I had contracted Dunlop disease- my stomach dun lop over my belt. Rob agreed to train me at his Santa Cruz gym. I biked down from my tent on Tuesday and Thursday mornings before school. After class, I hit the climbing gym, and then on the weekends I headed back out to the crag. The wafer thin Supermodel Kate Moss gave me a mantra. Nothing tastes as good as skinny feels. My muffin top, the spare tire around my stomach, slowly started to fade. I was lean and I was mean. When I showed up at the Cafeteria table, all skinny and fit with pine needles from the Santa Cruz redwoods sticking out of my hair, I looked like the best of the contestants. I had the mental toughness, and the lean physique. But I lacked talent on the rock. I needed to step up my game.
The climbing came along slowly. I have never been adept at moving my body. My only redemption is that my tenacity makes up for my lack of talent. I shook up the most mediocre of routes. A half inch above my last placement, I would be wrought with jazz hands and Elvis leg at the same time. I was an autumn leaf about to blow off the rock. I went to the Cookie Cliff, where Surfer Bob trained. He lapped the same cracks a million times, fueling his body off a tablespoon of olive oil. He trained for the ultimate training day. I tried to do the same, running countless laps up routes that I had dialed. “It’s just like paddling into Jaws,” he said while he cruised his 139th lap up the Red Zinger, a difficult 5.11+ crack. “You got to start off strong and ride into the wave. Let the motion take you there.” I tried to follow his advice instead I thrashed. I’d never been surfing in Hawaii break and, frankly, the water scared me. I had no idea what he was talking about.
In the boulders behind Camp 4 Magoo, showed me his circuit- a series of heinous offwidths and horrendous grovel problems he had wired over the years. Every “easy” problem felt impossible. He sandbagged me at every opportunity. Magoo explained his secret to success, “You don’t really have to climb anything. Just try real hard, talk a mean game, and shamelessly self promote.” He sniffled and shoved his glasses up his face alot, “That’ll work way better than climbing harder,” he added in a conspiratorial manner. I followed his advice. When I established a first ascent, I called it the Muir Trail, telling people that I hiked it. I related half truths- I claimed to have climbed up to 5.14 on El Capitan. Which was true- I had climbed up to it and then I aided through it. I worked my mouth like Magoo suggested.
Soon, I had the big talk down. Everyone in Yosemite knew that I was kind of a big deal. I kept working on Magoo’s impossible boulder problem circuit. But I kept flailing. I had leaned up on Platinum Rob’s diet but I was still a Man of Girth. I trained like Surfer Bob but then I would fail on anything off the circuit. That was how they earned their Yosemite titles but none of it would work for me. Each of them had sandbagged me into believing I could do it. I couldn’t keep up. I could only try and fail. So that’s what I did. I tried and I failed. I made small craters from wildly falling off the center stage routes in Joshua Tree, in Yosemite, anywhere there was a crowd. I was covered in cuts, and bruises from falling all the time. Soon I earned a moniker. Big Fall James. Long scars ran across my elbow, ankle, and back. I became a highly recognizable walking disaster. When I hobbled through Camp 4 with huge rope burns across my arms, watermelon sized ankles, and enormous bruise- people knew who I was. Big Fall James. The man who could survive the most enormous whippers around.
A few mornings ago, I sat at the table of the Yosemite Lodge. I’d been living the dirtbag climbing lifestyle for four years. I stayed skinny even in the winter months. I climbed without looking like a jackhammer on the rock. I talked an enormous game. I was as close to being Yosemite’s Next Top Idol as ever. A kid, fresh out of his mom’s house, in a collared shirt buttoned to the neck, sat next to me. He glanced at me, then cast his eyes down, and mumbled, “Big Fall James, How do you become a Yosemite Idol?” I smiled. I had fought for years for this moment- this opportunity to be acknowledged as one of the great Yosemite Climbers. My mind raced through a library of sage advice. I had sat in the same spot, listening to Surfer Bob, Platinum Rob, and Magoo. I thought about what they had told me. I looked at the kid. I thought showing him Surfer Bob’s ultimate training day schedule, about telling him Platinum’s dieting advice, or describing how he needed Magoo’s confidence. I prepared to tell him how he should follow my lead and become a walking disaster. Then I paused. He would need a lot of help. I patted him on the hand, put my arm around his shoulder, and totally sandbagged him.
For the past month and a half I worked in Sonora. I stayed in Chinese Camp sleeping on the futon of Coiler’s porch. There were a few climbers that passed through but I augured into the little farm. When bivy time came, I always got the futon. I was the head porch monkey. The status was nice to have. I needed as much beauty sleep as I could get to go to work. The nearby crag is steep and chossy and blocky. It attracts a large number of elite sport climbers (read douche bags). I was no exception. I shouted beta across the crag, used an offensive number of kneebars, and sprayed when I belayed my first 8c (5.14b). I also failed to send any new climbs. This last bit is rather depressing for me. I went to the crag feeling stronger than I had in years past and with slightly less of my normal paunch. But strong and light doesn’t get you redpoints. This is me in desperation.
I tried everything. I read in a recent study that good looking quarterbacks perform 37% better than their less attractive peers. I translated that to look good climb good. I manicured my stubble to perfect Yosemite hardman length, I wore my favorite shorts to the crag, I swam in Axe body spray Chocolate temptation. While the ladies found me irrestible, my 8a proj resisted my advances. This is me getting rock blocked.
Finally, the crag got too hot. Thank god. Fuck that place. There were a few redeeming things about climbing there. One was the sports action. I watched a gym climbing stud whip with two armfuls of slack while clipping the anchor. He flew 30+ feet and yanked his tiny belayer up into the first bolt. Whoopsie daisy!
One night in Chinese Camp, a few sport climbers and I danced on the pole in Coiler’s shop. While there, I had taken it upon myself to learn the rudimentary pole dancing moves. I could flip upside down. I could slide seductively down the pole. I could spin and gyrate my hips. I deserve a spot in Brotastic’s Male revue. I showed the sport climbers the basics and everyone got into it, even Dan Urban. Natasha Barnes vigorously ground up against the pole. Her enthusiasm unlocked a few new moves. Kim Groebner took the pole dancing to an all time extreme, going upside down then taking her hands off. Then she implemented one of Natasha’s moves. She performed a split on the pole, and then spun approximately 270 degrees. We all wished we had singles.
A week or two ago, while fighting in a Muay Thai match in Santa Clara, my doppelganger took a knee to the head. It was an illegal move. A big dent caved the left side of his face. His nose shot sideways. A broken orbital lobe and nose. Five days later he received plastic surgery. The doctors made an incision into the middle of his skull and pulled his face down. They popped the dent of his skull and realigned his nose. The twin remained blaise, and even a bit of a dick about the surgery. He told me there was a 40% chance that his face would fall off and another 30% chance that he would bleed out of the open skin around his eyeballs and die. The surgery had me pretty worried. Turned out it was fairly routine. I thought he might die though. Bastard.
I am currently bouncing back and forth between the Bay and Yosemite. My friend’s have a place in Foresta. It’s quiet. I sleep on a bed. It’s only 20 minutes from the park. There’s no wireless and the phone service is slightly grim.
The water rose above the logs on the El Cap bridge. The Merced raged where normally it flows gently along. Yesterday, I stemmed above two trees, hopped onto the larger of the two, and climbed out to its farthest branches. Then I jumped. Even after a fifteen foot fall, I still did not hit the bottom. The water’s high in Yosemite right now, higher than I’ve seen it in the past decade.
The constant rain and snow of the spring kept wet most of the rock. El Capitan was wet. Washington Column was wet. Leaning Tower was wet. And Half Dome- that was buried in snow. Sonora had the driest rock around . After a month and a half of trying then a few weekly sessions at the overhanging cliff, I managed to pull off an ascent of Alcatraz, a steep route involving extreme power endurance. In 1991, sport climbing magazine proclaimed that this route was one of the hardest in California. If I had been born in the seventies, I’d be a hardman. The same day, I ticked off four other hard routes at the crag, completing my long sought after Jailhouse 5 circuit- five hard routes at the crag in a day. I almost sent the Fugitive extension the next day. I did send Spike, a 5.12 crack climb at Public Sanitation and I polished off my Gold Wall Project- Wicked Gold. I only have a few more routes left to send at the Gold Wall before I’ve ticked the entire crag.
Hayden Kennedy runs a binary system. “Girls are either a 1 or a 0,” he said. “You do or you don’t.” The system became quite popular, especially after Hayden was taken advantage of by an attractive investment banker ten years his senior. The monkeys adopted the system in the hopes of getting attacked by a cougar like the fresh high-school graduate Hayden. Dave Turner took it to the next step, making loud proclamations about his $500 budget for condoms on his next expedition. He will be taking up the tri-nary system. He’ll try nearly anything. Hayden went on to describe how one of his fantasies is to have sex with an older African American woman with a baby. “I just want some of that Chocolate Milf.”
A new park employee, a young man working for Yosemite Assosciation, scrambled out on the ledges by Lower Brother, a small formation below and to the right of El Capitan. He fell. His shoe was found on a ledge. A blood covered depression marked where his body hit the ground. A couple of climbers, including a Bay area climber named Jay Wood, came upon his body, took photos of the corpse, and then proceeded to go climbing. While they made a long ascent of a moderate climb, three bears dragged the body away from where it had fallen and began to eat it. The climbers finished their route, descended and called YOSAR. When the Yosemite Search and Rescue team showed up the bears had already devoured most of the body. The team members carried away a mere eighty pounds of the man. The climbers neglect caused the body to be eaten. It’s a shameful representation of climbers.
Alex Honnold is rad. He’s sponsored by the North Face, La Sportiva, Black Diamnond, and the best of the climbing companies. He’s become a staple in the media with his bold solos of the Regular Route on Half Dome, Zion’s Moonlight Buttress, and Las Vegas’ Rainbow Wall. He’s famous. Sender films wanted more footage of Alex for their next movie. Uli Steck also crushes. He’s a hard European climber with a near onsight of Golden Gate on El Capitan. Uli wanted to try and set the Nose speed climbing record- the Grand Prix of the Yosemite pissing contest. Though the two hadn’t climbed together, they were optimistic. The previous contenders, Dean Potter, Timmy O’Neil, the Huber brothers, Hans Florine, Yuji Hiryama, had all put in a significant amount of time on the Nose. Alex had climbed the route a few times, and Uli had climbed it once. Announcements were made on the internet. The pairs first attempt saw them top out in 4 hours 20 minutes- a decent time for a reconnaissance. They talked to Jimmy Chin and Mikey Schaefer on the summit, interviewing for a National Geographic article about Yosemite climbers. Their second attempt saw them whittle away more time. They were still far from breaking the 2 hour 30 minute record. Alex started watching Uli climbed, and realized how balls out Uli was going. Uli jumped between handjams, untied from the rope, mismanaged the gri gri while simul climbing, and generally went for it. Alex became concerned. He’d been leading the entire route to that point and decided to let Uli lead. While simulclimbing the stronger climber should be on the bottom. While Alex lowered off of Dolt, Uli lead up a 5.9 crack. He fell, lobbing seventy feet through the air and pulling Alex up. The two abandoned the mission. I wonder if media pressure encouraged Alex to pick a slightly asinine project and go for it more than was reasonable.
My resume doesn't look so hot these days. For the past year, I've mostly worked for Touchstone writing their blog. I painted a house in Yosemite West, I wrote a few articles for climbing magazines, and I did some other odd jobs. Nowhere on my list of previous employment is anything using my Economics and Business Management degree. There's a significant lack of solid long-term employment. So I decided I need to pad out my resume to get my next job.
"So, James I see you a UC Santa Cruz alumni," the accounting manager of Deloitte's auditing department and my prospective employer will say to me. "Banana Slugs right?"
"No known predator, sir," I'll smile and wink, trying my best to be charming.
"Right right, let's see. Worked doing some freelance writing, a number of publications, oh and what's this? really!? No? Well, James. I don't know what to say....," he'll put my resume down and look at me. "Did you really walk on the moon while working for NASA?"
I'll nod. "Of course. It's part of the training for all the janitorial engineers that they go into space."
"Well, with an experience like that you could be doing space shuttle repair or building new rockets, or just about anything...what makes you want to work here?" the prospective employer will say.
"NASA wanted me to go on a dangerous mission to a remote aesteroid that was plummeting towards the Earth. I had to drill an enormous hole in it and then blow it up. It'd be me and Bruce Willis on the team. I decided I didn't want to go and figured if the world was gonna end in 3 weeks I might as well get a stable job working 50 hours a week."
"If you lost ten pounds," Cedar fidgeted on his basalt throne at the Gold Wall, "and did some yoga, you could climb 5.14 this year."
I try not to listen to Cedar often but he had a point. Rob told me the same thing a few times, so has Honnold, and Drew Rollins, and a number of other climbers. There's a pretty solid correlation between grip and weight ratio. Be strong, be light, and you will crush- being a Man of Girth won't get you up the cliff.
After my screws in my foot were removed, I sat around on the coach. Some would say that I was just a little big, some might say I just had broad shoulders. My mom would have said that I was, "Husky." I went to Indian Creek with a lot of weight above my belt, I weighed more than I ever have before.
The wafer thin super model Kate Moss gave me my mantra, "Nothing Tastes as good as skinny feels." I realized that I had been eating a lot. I decided that I needed to adjust my weight, and tighten my belt. Before I fell in Joshua Tree, I weighed about 157 pounds. I was thin, lean and mean. I ran around 14 miles a week, not much but combined with cycling up and down from UC Santa Cruz campus a couple times a day, I was fit. After I fell, I couldn't run anymore because of the fusion in my ankle. So, I started to get fat.
After punting from the top of most of the routes in Indian Creek, I decided I need to return to the lean mean climbing machine that James Lucas once was. I looked at myself in the mirror and screamed, "Get it together tubby! Stop day dreaming about pie and apple fritters. Start flexing and do some god damn rock climbing."
I tried to enlist some group support. Shannon Moore and I stepped on scales, weighed ourselves, and said we'd lose 10 pounds by June 15. That'd be like 160 for me. So far, I'm not sure how close I actually am to that goal. I don't have a scale and suspect that I haven't lost any actual weight. My diet has gotten significantly better- less pie and candy bars more apples and grapes. I've actually been climbing really well lately. Every week, I'm doing a little better than the week before.
The plan is send the sport project- at least one, maybe both. I managed to eek out a redpoint of my Gold Wall project yesterday. I sent it my fourth try of the day, after four previous attempts. I hoped it was 5.13- but after watching Stanley send it second try, Nik Berry and Hayden Kennedy flash it, the route was quickly down rated to 12d. Balls. Wicked Gold is still hard. Then after sending the sport proj, head back to a dry Yosemite and head up on the Leaning Tower. The Westie Face seeps through most of the spring and this has been a particularly wet year. Still, I think I can do it. I'm bouldering fairly well, and definitely stronger.
I'm not sure how it started, but I must have gotten poison oak on my clothes or my hands. It looks like I virtually swam in it. The Oak covers my forearms and torso, onto my upper thighs, and across my armpits. I have to swim in calamine lotion right now. It is making me slightly neurotic. When I say slightly, I mean totally insanely neurotic. If I could lose all my poison oak, I'd ditch a solid five pounds in water and oil retention. Might be times to put on more calamine.
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