With pain in the heart, but also looking forward to be back home, I'm writing the final report about our 3 month trip through both Canada and the United States. From San Francisco, where we met Nelson, a friend of Tim and a one of the Mount Coachers, by mere coincidence, we drove back to Yosemite, Nelson occupying one of the Walter's back seats, something that had not been the case for quite a long time. San Francisco was actually our first big city and one could even see glimpses of cultural activity, a rare, almost non-existent thing in America indeed, except if you consider Mac Donalds, Taco Bell, Burger King, KFC and the others as haute cuisine and representatives of US lifestyle and culture. Our stay was accompanied by a chill sea breeze, that even made us grab for our jackets, giving the impression fall had suddenly come about without announcing it. For people who know GTA San Andreas, it's just the same. Big bridges, steep streets, the big piramid and so on. We visited Chinatown, one of the biggest and most famous ones in the world. I was a bit disappointed at first, when we entered the tourist main street, with stupid meaningless kitschy gift shops all along the way. The we entered a side street where real chinese people lived and went to the market. And people who have been to China before know what I'm talking about. Dirty shops with living animals to buy. And since these are Cantonese people that means fish – tons of fish, and turtles and toats and other shelly and slimy things you never seen or heard of before. And exotic plants and fruits, to many to name them all. Adjacent to this street, was the Italian côté, with the typical nice and cozy restaurants. Unfortunately we couldn't see much of the city, like the island of Alcatraz. I'll keep it for next time.
So off we went, back to Yosemite. Yes, for we couldn't think up another plan, and Tim got quite nervous when we entered the park again, untill we left it again two days ago. We met four other Mount Coachers – Jasper, Jonas, Bram and Marijke. Bram and Marijke are making a 9 month trip in the US, Patagonia and New Sealand and bought our car. Our last week in the valley was not what I would call a big succes. The valley received its daily portion of afternoon thunderstorms, making it impossible to get up to a big wall, unless you were in for an epic, which we were not. So we went to Cookie Cliff for some (two actually) single pitches; we twice tried to get onto Serenity Crack, the area's most classical 5.10, but had to retreat because sloooow people where in it, and the second time we moved to Superslide, left of Serenity Crack, starting with a 5.8. I would describe the pitch as a squeezer, for it was not an offwidth, nor a chimney, but to squeeze (lees frullen voor zot) you had. And Tim wanted to lead it so badly, but soon growling and grunting sounds came down, as if on or another wild beast was high up on the rock. It took Tim like 45 min or so to get past the crux – two meters long I guess, so letting the beast inside do its work was allowed. I went in with my short pants, no good idea when knees are more appropriate then feet to work yopurself up a way. Not really motivated to continue the route, we went down, and the next day we climbed The Central Pillar of Frenzy, again a classical and easy 5 pitch route, but nonetheless nice for the grade. Tim and I went pretty crazy, doing nothing worthy these days. We wanted to do Astroman so badly and also West Face on El Cap, but the weather was not really cooperating, and the end of our stay neared. Finally conditions went better and off we went to Astroman on Washington Column. But as I told Tim countless times during our trip – there is always something (that goes wrong). And this time it was not much less the case. When we arrived at the base of the wall, we could see two climbers who were just about to start the first pitch. We still had to scramble up, climb a little bit and put our gear on, wich altogetther took us maybe 40 minutes. I linked the first two easy pitches and was surprised when I arrived at the belay and could just not touch the second climber of the party in front of us. I belayed Tim and when arrived, the two Finnish guys where still at the belay of the pitch above us, which was merely 10m long. They talked and talked about I don't know what, but they didin't move or started climbing. Tim led the third pitch and we waited till the one of them finished the fourth pitch, called Enduro Corner. It turned out it was the climbers first time in Yosemite and also their first route. A lot of self confidence, but not a lot of self-knowledge, as the second guy went up with a superheavy looking backpack, which slowed him down to zero speed and asking him to take every meter. After 1,5 hours waitingTim and I got crazy, or rather furious.This was supposed to be THE day, we were climbing at a good pace and then this shit. We didn't want to arrive at the top in the dark, for the descent is tricky, going over slopes and slabs and impossible to find back if you don't kno it. So we came back the next morning, early, and motivated as never before. We needed to climb. Although I didn't sleep that night for one or another reason, the approach only took us half an hour and ten minutes to put on our stuff. Apparently I was in some sort of modus you only have when you're super tired and in survival situations. I knew I would be slashed by the hammer during the climb. I started again as the day before and Tim and I stood at the start of Enduro corner after 30min. I was super motivated to lead this one, but soon I noticed it was an off-handscrack, meaning to wide for the fingers and to small for the hands, only possible to get your knuckles in there. Feeling uncomfy, I started liebacking. Wrong choice and I got pumped and scared, and feeled tired, dugh if you were awake all night before. Tim did this route without any hesitation, nice job there. The 6th pitch started off with a flared chimney, meaning squeezing and with all the gear this wasn't really easy, but I continued and could do the pitch, although at some points I received a lot of mental slabs in the face. And then I saw the Harding Slot and was so thankful I didn't had to go in first. I met a guy from Tasmania, Jerry, at the belay and chatted a bit. It turned out these guys had had the same trouble as us, and therefore made a bivy at pitch four, wanting to avoid crowds and being the first in the route. Jerry joked that they were to be called Astrograndpa's, because it would take them two days to climb the route. We would become Astromans, only taking one day. People who bail before the slot are Astroboys. Tim arrived and by the time he could start we had been waiting for 1 hours. It took the other climber 2 full hours to get through the slot. Luckily for him we could lent him our #6. And after the Jerry jumared himself through the slot, it was Tim's turn. I think this was the hardest and most horrible cimb in his climbing career so far, as I could deduct from the monstrous grunts and growls higher up. First you have to get into the slot, which means getting into a chimney from a position underneath it. The guidebook says: “Chickenwing dyno into slot”, but no chickenwing could get him or me into that thing and after a lot of cursing Tim managed to find a way to get into the tunnel-like chimney, using everybody part imaginable. At a slow but steady pace Tim went up, centimeter by centimeter, untill he reached a point where the slot narrows and closes towards the outside, meaning you can't get out. If you want to know how narrow it was, imagine yourself standing between two walls and are first able to touch the other wall with your nose and then unable to turn your head. And when your breathing in, your getting stuck. And stuck Tim got at the upper part, only a few meters away from the chains, which seemed miles away for him at that pretty hopeless moment. Unable to move forward or backward, Tim begon to scream as a beast, and the next moment he was utterly calm again. I got nervous myself too, for I also had to go through that thing. Finally Tim pulled himself trough the slot with the aid of our number 6. Know it was my turn. After taking off everythig unnecessary and obstructive, like my helmet, it started climbing, but was also unable to get into the slot and soon started cursing and pulling on gear, but everytime I let go I was lowered and had to pull myself up again. Unike me, Tim had not had the luxury of letting go, the only way for him was to up, there was no way back, and when I arrived at the narrowing, pulling more on the rope then squeezing, I realized my climbing partner of the last three months had quite big balls between his legs, a lot bigger for I ga up and came out of the chimney before the narrowest point, and just pulling myself up. I was getting frustrated and it took to much time, at least one hour for Tim and 30 or so minutes for me, so in total A fine 3 hours for one pitch. Mister Harding must have been a total lunatic at his time, to get into this hole, not knowing where to go or what would follow. The newt pitches were sustained, there wasn't really an easy pitch and both of us were becoming quite tired. There must also have been something wrong witht the food of the day before, as both Tim and I had to shit pretty badly. So urgent it was I took a big creamer on a ledge under Changing Corners, whileTim was still climbing. It would have been pretty funny indeed, when Tim would have fallen, me with my pants on my ankles and taking a shit, but as on Half Dome it was so urgent I couldn't wait any longer. After Changing Corners, I had to climb a pretty wide crack, for which I needed two number threes, which our rack is missing. Luckely the Australians lowered their number 3's, saying that climbers are there to help other climbers, and some mathematics learns that one number 6 is equal to two number 3's. I moved forward and despite not so difficult, I had to move the pieces with me as I got higher and higher. But what I've have learned on this trip, is that sometimes you face a situation you don't want to engage with. You would rather like to be at home, watching tv with a hot chocolate milk and the hearth burning, but instead you are dead tired hanging into a cupped hand crack, mentally dying and with sore feet. That's the moment you have to stop thinking and commit yourself to the situation. There's no way back. And so I found myself at the top and with only one short pitch left, we found ourselves at the top of Astroman, together with the two other climbers, who I still want to thank for their borrrowing me their number 3's, because without them it would still be there. The knew the way down and after two scrambling down and bushwacking Tim and I could release the pressure that had grown worse during the last hours. There was really something strange going on inside, god knows what.
Next objective – West Face, the route far left on El Cap. We planned to fix the first two or three pitches so we could jumar the next day and start with the fourth pitch. There is a lot of face climbing in this route and while leading the first pitch, I noticed I was mentally dead and Tim physically, bruised all over his ankles arms and back. We were pretty sure this route would be too hard in our present condition and decided to go for East Butress, a super easy classical route. Better something easy and succesful to end the trip, than bailing and fucking everything up. But again some parties in front of us slowed us down and instead of 3 hours it took us 7 or 8, more waiting than climbing actually. But we talked a lot with one of the Serbian climbers in front of us, to me he seemd like an old war veteran, and he went quite philosophical at times, as I like it, talking about how fucked up the western mentality is. We arrived at the top and when we went down to the rappels, we met Sean and Nico again. They are here in Yosemite for a special occasion. Tom Waes wanted to climb the Nose on El Cap, as another crazy stunt for his superb tv show Tomtesterom. And Sean and Nico had to caoch him. With only two weeks of climbing experience Tom succeeded in AIDclimbing The Nose, doing three à four pitches per day. I'm pretty impressed by his performances, for this is pretty crazy. I think some people will be jealous at home because we talked with the one and only Tom Waes and also with Pascal, the soundguy and the other members of the of the crew. I'm really looking forward to the show, which is planned for Febuary next year.
And so there comes an end to everything, and a good end it was, because I could enter the all-you-can-eat a last time, walking in free. Bram and Marijke, who had climbed Half Dome, and Jasper and Jonas, who had bailed in the Nose, because Jonas took a pretty nasty whipper, falling onto a ledge, and causing into a big cut into his leg which required 15 stiches, also showed up there. Only poor Nelson was missing. We left the next day, arranging the car sell at the airport and said goodbye to Bram and Marijke, who would now take care of our precious car. But trouble was not over yet. For some reason Tim and I were thinking we had to check in at 8 o'clock, while the flight took of at that time, so we were hopelessly l ate and to be booked on the next flight, meaning we would have to stay overnight in Toronto. So we did and while waiting that evening we looked for food left behind by other people. I still don't understand why people buy food and then throw away more then the half of it. What a fucking waste. Eat what you buy, or buy something smaller or nothing at all if you're not hungry. Fuckers. We slept for 13 hours and got onto the plain, which had a delay of 3 hours. Why, because first one of the computers was dead and then because the airco was broken or something, turning the entire aircraft from an oven with no air into a refigerator, using to much fuel, So they had to refuel. It would recommend to just put the thing off, but clearly that hadn't come to their minds. The refueling took an hour, again I don't know why. We arrived three hours later as planned, so I was at home at noon, just in time for lunch, which means Hespenrolletjes met kaas en spaghetti. Aaah good Belgian culture.
There and Back Again
Hails
So off we went, back to Yosemite. Yes, for we couldn't think up another plan, and Tim got quite nervous when we entered the park again, untill we left it again two days ago. We met four other Mount Coachers – Jasper, Jonas, Bram and Marijke. Bram and Marijke are making a 9 month trip in the US, Patagonia and New Sealand and bought our car. Our last week in the valley was not what I would call a big succes. The valley received its daily portion of afternoon thunderstorms, making it impossible to get up to a big wall, unless you were in for an epic, which we were not. So we went to Cookie Cliff for some (two actually) single pitches; we twice tried to get onto Serenity Crack, the area's most classical 5.10, but had to retreat because sloooow people where in it, and the second time we moved to Superslide, left of Serenity Crack, starting with a 5.8. I would describe the pitch as a squeezer, for it was not an offwidth, nor a chimney, but to squeeze (lees frullen voor zot) you had. And Tim wanted to lead it so badly, but soon growling and grunting sounds came down, as if on or another wild beast was high up on the rock. It took Tim like 45 min or so to get past the crux – two meters long I guess, so letting the beast inside do its work was allowed. I went in with my short pants, no good idea when knees are more appropriate then feet to work yopurself up a way. Not really motivated to continue the route, we went down, and the next day we climbed The Central Pillar of Frenzy, again a classical and easy 5 pitch route, but nonetheless nice for the grade. Tim and I went pretty crazy, doing nothing worthy these days. We wanted to do Astroman so badly and also West Face on El Cap, but the weather was not really cooperating, and the end of our stay neared. Finally conditions went better and off we went to Astroman on Washington Column. But as I told Tim countless times during our trip – there is always something (that goes wrong). And this time it was not much less the case. When we arrived at the base of the wall, we could see two climbers who were just about to start the first pitch. We still had to scramble up, climb a little bit and put our gear on, wich altogetther took us maybe 40 minutes. I linked the first two easy pitches and was surprised when I arrived at the belay and could just not touch the second climber of the party in front of us. I belayed Tim and when arrived, the two Finnish guys where still at the belay of the pitch above us, which was merely 10m long. They talked and talked about I don't know what, but they didin't move or started climbing. Tim led the third pitch and we waited till the one of them finished the fourth pitch, called Enduro Corner. It turned out it was the climbers first time in Yosemite and also their first route. A lot of self confidence, but not a lot of self-knowledge, as the second guy went up with a superheavy looking backpack, which slowed him down to zero speed and asking him to take every meter. After 1,5 hours waitingTim and I got crazy, or rather furious.This was supposed to be THE day, we were climbing at a good pace and then this shit. We didn't want to arrive at the top in the dark, for the descent is tricky, going over slopes and slabs and impossible to find back if you don't kno it. So we came back the next morning, early, and motivated as never before. We needed to climb. Although I didn't sleep that night for one or another reason, the approach only took us half an hour and ten minutes to put on our stuff. Apparently I was in some sort of modus you only have when you're super tired and in survival situations. I knew I would be slashed by the hammer during the climb. I started again as the day before and Tim and I stood at the start of Enduro corner after 30min. I was super motivated to lead this one, but soon I noticed it was an off-handscrack, meaning to wide for the fingers and to small for the hands, only possible to get your knuckles in there. Feeling uncomfy, I started liebacking. Wrong choice and I got pumped and scared, and feeled tired, dugh if you were awake all night before. Tim did this route without any hesitation, nice job there. The 6th pitch started off with a flared chimney, meaning squeezing and with all the gear this wasn't really easy, but I continued and could do the pitch, although at some points I received a lot of mental slabs in the face. And then I saw the Harding Slot and was so thankful I didn't had to go in first. I met a guy from Tasmania, Jerry, at the belay and chatted a bit. It turned out these guys had had the same trouble as us, and therefore made a bivy at pitch four, wanting to avoid crowds and being the first in the route. Jerry joked that they were to be called Astrograndpa's, because it would take them two days to climb the route. We would become Astromans, only taking one day. People who bail before the slot are Astroboys. Tim arrived and by the time he could start we had been waiting for 1 hours. It took the other climber 2 full hours to get through the slot. Luckily for him we could lent him our #6. And after the Jerry jumared himself through the slot, it was Tim's turn. I think this was the hardest and most horrible cimb in his climbing career so far, as I could deduct from the monstrous grunts and growls higher up. First you have to get into the slot, which means getting into a chimney from a position underneath it. The guidebook says: “Chickenwing dyno into slot”, but no chickenwing could get him or me into that thing and after a lot of cursing Tim managed to find a way to get into the tunnel-like chimney, using everybody part imaginable. At a slow but steady pace Tim went up, centimeter by centimeter, untill he reached a point where the slot narrows and closes towards the outside, meaning you can't get out. If you want to know how narrow it was, imagine yourself standing between two walls and are first able to touch the other wall with your nose and then unable to turn your head. And when your breathing in, your getting stuck. And stuck Tim got at the upper part, only a few meters away from the chains, which seemed miles away for him at that pretty hopeless moment. Unable to move forward or backward, Tim begon to scream as a beast, and the next moment he was utterly calm again. I got nervous myself too, for I also had to go through that thing. Finally Tim pulled himself trough the slot with the aid of our number 6. Know it was my turn. After taking off everythig unnecessary and obstructive, like my helmet, it started climbing, but was also unable to get into the slot and soon started cursing and pulling on gear, but everytime I let go I was lowered and had to pull myself up again. Unike me, Tim had not had the luxury of letting go, the only way for him was to up, there was no way back, and when I arrived at the narrowing, pulling more on the rope then squeezing, I realized my climbing partner of the last three months had quite big balls between his legs, a lot bigger for I ga up and came out of the chimney before the narrowest point, and just pulling myself up. I was getting frustrated and it took to much time, at least one hour for Tim and 30 or so minutes for me, so in total A fine 3 hours for one pitch. Mister Harding must have been a total lunatic at his time, to get into this hole, not knowing where to go or what would follow. The newt pitches were sustained, there wasn't really an easy pitch and both of us were becoming quite tired. There must also have been something wrong witht the food of the day before, as both Tim and I had to shit pretty badly. So urgent it was I took a big creamer on a ledge under Changing Corners, whileTim was still climbing. It would have been pretty funny indeed, when Tim would have fallen, me with my pants on my ankles and taking a shit, but as on Half Dome it was so urgent I couldn't wait any longer. After Changing Corners, I had to climb a pretty wide crack, for which I needed two number threes, which our rack is missing. Luckely the Australians lowered their number 3's, saying that climbers are there to help other climbers, and some mathematics learns that one number 6 is equal to two number 3's. I moved forward and despite not so difficult, I had to move the pieces with me as I got higher and higher. But what I've have learned on this trip, is that sometimes you face a situation you don't want to engage with. You would rather like to be at home, watching tv with a hot chocolate milk and the hearth burning, but instead you are dead tired hanging into a cupped hand crack, mentally dying and with sore feet. That's the moment you have to stop thinking and commit yourself to the situation. There's no way back. And so I found myself at the top and with only one short pitch left, we found ourselves at the top of Astroman, together with the two other climbers, who I still want to thank for their borrrowing me their number 3's, because without them it would still be there. The knew the way down and after two scrambling down and bushwacking Tim and I could release the pressure that had grown worse during the last hours. There was really something strange going on inside, god knows what.
Next objective – West Face, the route far left on El Cap. We planned to fix the first two or three pitches so we could jumar the next day and start with the fourth pitch. There is a lot of face climbing in this route and while leading the first pitch, I noticed I was mentally dead and Tim physically, bruised all over his ankles arms and back. We were pretty sure this route would be too hard in our present condition and decided to go for East Butress, a super easy classical route. Better something easy and succesful to end the trip, than bailing and fucking everything up. But again some parties in front of us slowed us down and instead of 3 hours it took us 7 or 8, more waiting than climbing actually. But we talked a lot with one of the Serbian climbers in front of us, to me he seemd like an old war veteran, and he went quite philosophical at times, as I like it, talking about how fucked up the western mentality is. We arrived at the top and when we went down to the rappels, we met Sean and Nico again. They are here in Yosemite for a special occasion. Tom Waes wanted to climb the Nose on El Cap, as another crazy stunt for his superb tv show Tomtesterom. And Sean and Nico had to caoch him. With only two weeks of climbing experience Tom succeeded in AIDclimbing The Nose, doing three à four pitches per day. I'm pretty impressed by his performances, for this is pretty crazy. I think some people will be jealous at home because we talked with the one and only Tom Waes and also with Pascal, the soundguy and the other members of the of the crew. I'm really looking forward to the show, which is planned for Febuary next year.
And so there comes an end to everything, and a good end it was, because I could enter the all-you-can-eat a last time, walking in free. Bram and Marijke, who had climbed Half Dome, and Jasper and Jonas, who had bailed in the Nose, because Jonas took a pretty nasty whipper, falling onto a ledge, and causing into a big cut into his leg which required 15 stiches, also showed up there. Only poor Nelson was missing. We left the next day, arranging the car sell at the airport and said goodbye to Bram and Marijke, who would now take care of our precious car. But trouble was not over yet. For some reason Tim and I were thinking we had to check in at 8 o'clock, while the flight took of at that time, so we were hopelessly l ate and to be booked on the next flight, meaning we would have to stay overnight in Toronto. So we did and while waiting that evening we looked for food left behind by other people. I still don't understand why people buy food and then throw away more then the half of it. What a fucking waste. Eat what you buy, or buy something smaller or nothing at all if you're not hungry. Fuckers. We slept for 13 hours and got onto the plain, which had a delay of 3 hours. Why, because first one of the computers was dead and then because the airco was broken or something, turning the entire aircraft from an oven with no air into a refigerator, using to much fuel, So they had to refuel. It would recommend to just put the thing off, but clearly that hadn't come to their minds. The refueling took an hour, again I don't know why. We arrived three hours later as planned, so I was at home at noon, just in time for lunch, which means Hespenrolletjes met kaas en spaghetti. Aaah good Belgian culture.
There and Back Again
Written by Yosemite Sam
Hails
