The Warrior's Quest

True mountain warrior

We weren’t technically running, but I was moving as fast as my legs would carry me up the switchbacks. Leaving the main trail and starting up the steep climbers trail, sweat soaks my shirt and drips from my brow.

“How you guys doing? Not moving too slow for you, am I?” I call back to Zachary and Joe. They are sucking wind, but matching my quick low strides. Zachary chatting about big days fighting wild fires; Joe right on his heels bouncing up the scree slope in flip flops.

Zachary planted the idea of spending the night on top of a mountain, where we could bath in the monochrome fireworks of the Perseid meteor shower. Eyes shining behind rectangular wire-frame glasses, he enlisted me as the rope gun. To keep it sporting, I had upped the ante with a bigger, harder route. In his happy-go-lucky way, Joe joined the team a half hour before the end of the workday.

As the three of us not-quite-run toward the South Early Winters Spire, my mind wanders through the what-ifs and strategies to pull this mission off. I mention the need to get above the crux of the climb before the sun completely disappears. They only have a vague idea of what they signed up for.

We reach the base of the Southwest Rib at 7pm. I chew on a bar, and assemble my climbing equipment. Shouldering my overnight pack and looking up at the first pitch, the thrill of adventure adds a renewed spring to my step. I tie into the rope and take off.

“Put me on belay eventually.”

They are still sorting gear, eating, and swatting mosquitoes. It may appear reckless, but alpinism is not folly. My movement is sure and intentional; climbing fast pulls you close to the margins, where confidence is safety. It’s 40 feet before I can stop and get some decent protection. Before that, the boys can hydrate and repack their bags. No need for a belay. Warm golden light paints the 900 ft granite stump above as the sun settles between distant mountaintops.

We shared the route with a few other climbers

My thoughts have been occupied with the concept of being a warrior. I have been reflecting on how to be more intentional. Being a warrior against the challenges of love, work, friends and family is more complicated than climbing, but there are some common truths. We celebrate instant gratification in our culture, and are led to believe that there is an easier path. Divorce, desk jobs, and social media allow us to lower our guard. When I look closely at why my life gets complicated, I find places I am leaking energy and recoiling from the hard parts. If it were easy, it wouldn’t be worthwhile. Instability, change, and suffering are unavoidable. Rather than looking forward to peace and quiet, I must lean against the jagged edge and fight with the expectation that it will only get harder.

On the side of the South Early Winters Spire, in the fading alpenglow, Zachary is holding onto a different kind of jagged edge, 300 feet above the ground. “I think this is above my pay grade, Calvin!” He grunts and puffs like a bear, as he wrestles the “zig zag crack” and his backpack. He is having type 2 fun, he just doesn’t realize it, yet.

This is our first time roping up together, and I enjoy his careful and stubborn nature. He’s built for these mountains, and continues upwards even as he mutters about the “plus rating”.

30 feet below, Joe climbs with effortless grace. He has the long legged spider style that I will never have. My style is closer to that of an orangutan, swinging and dancing up the cracks and ledges. As I start up the “Bear Hug Pitch” the sun has dipped below the horizon.

Nobody does this.

Halfway up the pitch I have a moment. I am overcome with gratitude and love. It is a superlative moment. The best way I could possibly spend my night. I reach a ledge and build an anchor as the light finally gives out. The moment is perfect because I had to be uncomfortable to get here. I have trained myself to associate the suffering on climbs with fun. Embracing the warrior’s quest means welcoming each test, and pushing myself further than I thought possible. In climbing the struggle is something I have learned to welcome. The climbs that push me are the most satisfying. How can I shift my thinking in the rest of my life?

Anyone watching our headlamps on the side of the mountain would have thought we were having an epic, but the adventure continued on into the night as planned. We reach the summit at 11pm. Traversing across the summit ridge, we are like astronauts walking through space.  After locating a few bivy spots scattered near the summit, we wolf down a dinner of left over French toast and cheese. The darkness belies our precarious position on the spire, and before long we settle into the comfort of our sleeping bags to watch for shooting stars.

My bivy on the ridge atop the South Early Winters Spire

A blazing streak across the night sky, reminds me to make a wish. I consider love, review my dreams, and think about what I want to be better.

I wish I were braver. I wish I were more durable. I wish I were more intentional. I wish for more superlative moments.

I wish for love.

I’m not superstitious, and the exercise reminds me that my wishes can come true, but only if I put in the work to make them come true. It can’t all be easy. When I accept that I will always suffer, and lean into the jagged edge, my wishes might come true; they might not.

Tonight happened because Zachary dreamed of doing something special to see the Perseid Meteor Shower. I refused him at first, thinking I couldn’t pull it off on a “school night”, but back at home, I kept thinking about not limiting myself and making the most of each day.

While I drank coffee the next morning, I pulled out all my climbing and overnight gear, and threw it in the car. Once I made the decision to go for it, there was no stopping me.

Being a climbing warrior, gives me the inspiration to patch leaky energy in other parts of life. I set the intention again and again to confront addictive behavior, comfort, sloth, self-pity, jealousy, greed, and fear. Forgive each failure, and love courageously. I’d like to say, “I’ll figure it all out one day,” but what fun would that be.

The Big One

I notice that my knuckles are raw and chaffed from stuffing my fists into the wide crack leading up into an endless wall of granite. I pause to note how vibrant my blood looks against the rock. I’m hyper aware of this moment, but am quickly snapped back to my precarious position on the side of El Capitan. Glancing at my last piece of protection, a stuck cam 20 feet below me, and I feel completely overwhelmed…

“Jonathan!” I yell into the wind. “I’m scared!”

There is a pregnant pause, before he hollers back, “Me too!”

That was 5 years ago. Jonathan and I decided to retreat after another night halfway up the Nose. With that experience seared in my memory, I have spent countless hours dreaming of a return, trying to identify and improve on my weaknesses, wrestling with the feeling that I was not ready. Fear can be incredibly motivating. Whether in climbing, in work, or in love, facing fear is an experience that all people can relate to.

This year has given me ample opportunity to try hard at facing fears. Returning to climb “The Nose” on El Capitan, is a way to measure my progress. My last blog was a reflection on being at a personal low point. Now, more than a year after breaking my leg, I have changed in many ways, but I still struggle the same challenges. No matter how much I overcome, life will continue to test me. I hope that being vulnerable, and opening up in this blog will remind me to be humble and express gratitude for the chances to try hard, and to celebrate both successes and failures.

With 30 pitches of climbing, The Nose is twice the size of anything I have climbed in a single day. Retreating from The Nose revealed a huge potential to grow. It has been in the back of my mind year after year as I sought out new climbing goals. This winter, I managed to arrange time off from work, and started talking with my friend Andy about a spring climbing trip. A year and a half ago, we had climbed El Cap together on the Salathe Wall over the course of 6 days. This challenge had been a profound test for me then, and we have been talking about climbing The Nose ever since.  Adding to the drama, it would be the first big climbing trip since I broke my ankle last winter. I felt like my physical therapy was complete, but this would be a major test.  The miles I ran in the rain this winter, the pitches of climbing I managed to squeeze in after work, helped me reach a high level of physical fitness, but my mental preparation was hard to gauge. Andy and I expected to have time to build up to the main event with some time in the Utah desert. The day before my flight, however, we decided to go straight to Yosemite in hopes of capitalizing on a clear weather window.

After a long day of travel, we drove into Yosemite Valley passing below the vast white rock face of El Capitan. I felt nauseous with a mix of fear and excitement. It is a familiar feeling; anticipating a challenge that will push me to grow. There will be blood, sweat, and tears. There will be fear, and the chance to redefine my limits. After, a half-day test run of the lower part of the climb, Andy and I took a day of rest and made final preparations for our “Nose In A Day” attempt.

At 5:30am the next morning, I start climbing up the first pitch by headlamp.

A friend’s simple words of encouragement rang in my head, “You’re ready, Calvin”. With no time to spare, Andy and I hardly see each other as we race up the wall, trying to move smoothly and efficiently. In between long blocks of lead climbing, I have brief moments for self care. Wolfing down food and water, it seems impossible to keep up with the calories I am burning. At the halfway point, by body begins to rebel. With my forearms cramping, and fatigue setting in, each move feels more taxing than the last. I have to peel my hand open and shake out the cramp, reach, and pull up, only to have my forearms seize up again. This unfortunate consequence of dehydration is referred to as “wall claw”. As doubt creeps into my psyche, I continue to sweat, curse and bleed my way up the Nose. I remind myself that if I can just keep moving, we will get to the top.

There are so many memories I want to share from that day. Leaping and running across the rock face on the King Swing where the route moves from one crack system to another 60 feet away. Getting smeared with green slime as I navigated my way under the great roof. Singing the “Reading Rainbow” song with another pair of Nose In A Day climbers. Handing the rack over to Andy after dark, and watching his headlamp disappearing above me into the inky darkness. After 15 hours of continuous climbing, we were out of water, were both mentally and physically exhausted, but we were having fun.

The possibility that we may succeed propelled us on into the night. Just after midnight, 18.5 hours after we had started, Andy and I topped out on El Cap. We hugged and howled out into the moonlit valley. Our celebration was brief, as we still had a few hours of descending, before we could relax our focus. Our descent was long but uneventful. When we got to the Valley floor, we grabbed the bikes we had stashed the day before and rode the empty street back to the van. Electrified by our success, and awakened by the cold air, the reality of what we had just done began to settle in.

At surface level, what we had done was fairly simple. We had climbed up a really big piece of rock. I would love to say that in climbing The Nose I had become a better person, or somehow sorted my life out. The reality is, I returned to the ground with my problems, fears, and doubts intact. This climb reminds me that my shortcomings are opportunities to improve. I aim to apply the same tenacity towards being a better friend, an outstanding colleague, and a man of integrity. The value I draw from this climb is to not stop dreaming, and to trust in myself. I’m grateful to Jonathan, Andy, and all the people that supported me in this process. I’m grateful for failure, success, suffering, and elation. I still fear the unknown, but climbing 3,000 feet of granite in under 24 hours feels like good training for the big obstacles in life.