the nose

Everyone rips on California. Especially in Montana, Wyoming and Idaho. I get it. The general sentiment is that Californians better stop moving to other states without assimilating. Leaving is fine but don’t bring what you’re escaping to your new home. That’s how places like Boz-Angeles, MT are created. 

But talk to those that have visited California. They’ll argue - sure, the Golden State has its quirks. But it’s also a beautiful place with amazing country and opportunities not available elsewhere in the US. That’s how I feel. I’d never move back because the Rockies stole my heart. But I’m extremely blessed to have family across the state whom I can visit and experience the California highlights with.

Take for example the first day I flew in. My brother picked me up from the airport at 4:30pm. By 6pm we were in the ocean chasing waves. That’s pretty badass.

Next, while we enjoyed ocean swells in 70 degree sun, the Sierras received several feet of snow. That’s 4 hours away. With a little planning you could ski and surf in the same day. That’s also pretty badass.

I spent the last three weeks chasing these California highs. Not the herbal kind. But the endorphin kind. I can’t thank my brother, friends, and family enough for making this visit special and filling it with many moments of “wow, I’m not in Wyoming anymore.”

The trip began with celebrations. Having left the state a decade ago, I often feel like the crappy relative and friend that misses all the gatherings. So it was cool in the first weekend to attend my aunt Eileen’s 60th birthday plus Ian’s girlfriend Laura’s 30th.

I was reminded how close to twins Ian and I seem. I have to remember to respond to “Ian” as my second name when I visit. We should have played more with this in middle and high school. We could have switched classes and teachers likely wouldn’t have noticed. 

Commuting to some of these celebrations I saw whale spouts out the car window. Pretty damn California. The following day I saw a whale’s tail surface just outside the surf. That week I reunited with middle and high school buddies to play disc golf. Brendan, Ben, Kevin, Tati, Aaron - you guys rock and I missed ya so much. We picked wild Chicken of the Woods mushrooms on course and cooked them that night.

Next Brendan and I went crabbing at midnight on the opener of season. Standing in wetsuits to our waists with PBRs in hand, we threw tiny pots out into the surf until 3am. Ya this isn’t Wyoming anymore. 

What I’m getting at is California ain’t so bad if you know where to look. And the holy grail of this state is Yosemite. As a climber I might be biased. But it’s pretty rad a Sierra oasis filled with endless granite, pine trees, black bears, and crisp mountain air is 4 hours from San Francisco.

Ian and I have been fortunate with three Yosemite trips this year. Washington Column and Half Dome’s face were the spring sends. We had one more goal this fall. A goal we’ve shared together since we started climbing at age 14.

The Big Stone. The Captain. To most, simply El Cap. The largest piece of freestanding granite in the world. Route choice - the Nose. Arguably the single best rock climb in the world. 

First let’s talk weather windows. They define outdoor schedules. Weather is like a significant other that can’t fully commit. Your relationship is fickle at best. Sometimes she shows up and the greatest experiences follow. But often she goes cold and keeps you waiting and wishing. When things go right you feel like you understand her so well and should put a ring on it. But the next week she’ll leave you lost, confused, and second guessing your choices. 

Most of this year I couldn’t have told you the day of the week. But I could have told you where we were at in a storm cycle. I check the weather daily when pursing a goal. Ian and I squeezed Half Dome’s regular route into a tiny visit I made in spring. I changed my flights home twice to work the weather. Once from the summit of the mountain after dark with a bar or two of reception.

I vowed not to repeat that again for El Cap. I left three weeks for this trip. Hopefully a break in the snow and rain would come. While waiting, I’d play in the ocean and kick it with friends and family in the city. 

Turns out I needed three weeks. First it rained in the Sierras. Then it snowed. Ian and I compared and contrasted several weather models. We watched it fluctuate and change, often for the worst. We needed 4-5 days of clear skies. Warm weather was out of the equation. The Sierras are cold in November. But precipitation is what we feared.

As I sat like a dog in a cage waiting for a window, I wondered if I missed my chance by not visiting in September or October. But that’s moose, elk, and deer season. Sorry rock climbing. 

By mid November things changed. High pressure blew over the Sierras after a 3-5ft dump of snow. It’d be mostly dry for a week. Ian could miraculously get off work. It was go time. Oh crap, wait, there’s precipitation on Friday. Then it moved to Saturday. Then it disappeared. Then it reappeared on Monday. Screw it, it’s only an afternoon or evening. We have to try. 

Quick pause for a shout out to winter. Skiing is the best. Why? Because bad weather is what you hope for! The high pressure weeks are the icy, cold, crappy days. The storm cycles bring the face shots and pow. So long as you monitor avalanche conditions, storms bring the best days. In summer a storm cycle can kill alpine climbing plans. In winter a storm cycle can make you drop all work and responsibilities to go swim in the white, mountain gold. 

Back to Yosemite. Ian and I loaded up the haul bag and went for it. We slept in a pullout outside the park. 20 degrees. We entered the next morning to a valley floor covered in snow. This would be a cold one.

In short, the climb was perfect. Ian is the greatest brother and climbing partner I could ask for. Movement and progress was flawless. Whether from weird brother-telepathy or simply years of climbing together, we know what each other is thinking and doing without much discussion. This feat would not have been possible without him. I love you Ian.

We NAILED the weather. The cold, clear nights left the valley inverted. The higher we climbed, the warmer it got. Other parties delayed El Cap plans to let the wall dry out and valley warm up. Thus, we were the first multi-day party on the wall. Others began while we were already half way up. We literally had one of the most popular rock climbs in the world to ourselves. No waiting at belays. No wondering if the tiny sleeping ledges would be occupied. It was magical.

Our struggles simply came from cold mornings that delayed start times plus short daylight hours. It was practically a winter ascent. Those factors shortened climbing progress.

But we had plenty of water and food plus living on the wall was the best part! We were pumped to take our time and soak up vertical life. 

Highlights

Ian and I lead in blocks. Block leading is surprisingly more efficient when big walling than swapping leads. Each day we broke the pitches roughly in half. Adding the two extra pitches of Pine Line, the climb came to 30 total. Ian beautifully free climbed the Stovelegs, squeezed through Texas Flake, and performed the most brutal, cold, wet, and clutch aid on Changing Corners. He was gracious and gave me my dream leads on the King Swing, the Great Roof, Pancake Flake, and more. 

We enjoyed the spacious ledge of El Cap Tower to ourselves. A boujee sleep spot compared to our sloping ledges elsewhere that barely fit 1.5 people. Especially the one where I had to sleep with my feet in the haul bag to avoid sliding off.

It was cold on Ian’s Changing Corners lead our final morning. While belaying I did 600 squats and 1000 toe taps to warm my core and feet up. We remained in a tight west facing corner for two pitches - the last spot on El Cap to receive sun.

Have you ever been so thirsty and dehydrated that water has a taste? It’s an incredible sensation. This trip I had a new one. When the sun finally struck our backs, Ian and I leaned out in our harnesses to let the sun bathe our faces. We believe we tasted the sun. It was an incredible high for both of us. I’ve never been more appreciative of that ball of hydrogen, helium, and nuclear fusion in the sky. We were warm and it was time to summit.

I took my biggest whip on gear when I blew an offset cam. My BD .3 cam saved me 30-40 feet of freefall later.

A small crowd of onlookers in the valley below erupted in cheer and applause when I stuck the King Swing.

Peregrin falcons soared around us. I found a Pacific treefrog on pitch 12! How the hell these frogs live 1000+ feet above the valley and migrate through the cracks I do not know. At the final belay stance on top, a large scorpion crawled on the summit block 2 feet from me and disappeared in the crack below. Holy f*ck we’ve been sticking our hands in those same cracks this whole time. 

My parents drove to Yosemite for a night to watch our ascent. It was so cool to chat with them from high above and know they could see us in the binoculars. This was a full circle moment for Ian and I. We gained an interest in climbing at age 14 watching headlamps work their way up the Nose. We scanned with binoculars to find the tiny dots of bright colored clothing and haul bags inching up the face. 

We then dropped all team sports to purse climbing. The Nose remained a distant dream that we didn’t know we’d ever reach. Now we were those dots. And our own parents could watch us inch up the face.

The exposure is big on the wall but you don’t always appreciate the scale. My parents’ photos made it surreal. Ian and I were finally the tiny dots we dreamed of being over a decade ago. 

Since our first big wall last spring, friends and relatives have asked us questions. You’d hope and expect them to be “which pitch was most fun?”, “how do you haul the bag over uneven terrain?”, “how do you aid climb?”. But no. Far and away the most common question is “how do you poop?”

It’s simple. Poop in a bag and carry it off the mountain. But that’s gross. So we complicate things to reduce smell. First, always stay in your harness and tied-in during this whole event. Next, aim into a scented trash bag to add a sweet aroma of “ocean breeze”. We carried a small amount of cat litter that we would add to that bag. Shove all that into a ziplock, and then into another. Redundancy is key. Squeeze out the air (plug your nose during this part).

Then take an empty two-liter water bottle and cut a slit around the middle. Shove one poop in the top of the bottle, another in the bottom, then duct tape the crap out of that bottle. Carry off and dispose in a trash can at the base.

Here’s Ian showing perfect form and technique. This is the gold standard of ledges. Not all poop opportunities are this nice. So we carry “emergency tubes” for those times in between ledges. These tubes are a scented trash bag, toilet paper, and two ziplocks rolled together. Lean off the anchor and do your best.

Climbing, alpinism, and mountaineering are somewhat goofy. The summits can be wildly anti-climactic. The fun comes in the ascent. The goal seems complete at the top. Yet there’s always a descent which usually is heinous, scary, and seemingly endless. Unless it involves skiing. There we go again - another shout-out to winter.

Getting off El Cap requires a descent of the East Ledges - a route new to both Ian and I. It involves 5 rappels plus 3-4th class scrambling on ledges. Our problems - light was fading, the 3-4th class sections were covered in several feet of snow and slick ice, and we didn’t fully know the route. Add in 80-100 lbs of gear to carry out.

We post holed through the 3rd class with soaked approach shoes. Nightfall came prior to the first rappel. We wondered if we’d have to bivy on top another night and finish in the morning. Luckily, a day prior, two strong female climbers had completed NIAD (Nose In A Day). We found their footprints at nightfall.

Their tracks led us to the 4th class downclimbing covered in ice. They had made two rappels off trees to safely descend this section towards the main rappels. We added a sling and carabiner to both. Leaving $30-$40 of gear on the mountain is without a doubt worth the added safety. Those two rappels finished, we found the main fixed lines. 5 rappels with the haul bag and a couple miles of hiking later and we found the car. Mission accomplished.

At 10pm we drove back to SF with a midnight celebration at IN N OUT. I’m pretty sure Ian teared up over how good that burger tasted. By 3am we fell asleep in a euphoric haze from the last several days. It still doesn’t feel real. Ian - we did the Nose!!!!

Back in the Bay weather continued to cooperate. The seas blessed us with clean swells and an offshore wind. Ian and I enjoyed the comfort of the ocean followed by warm showers, good food, and great company from friends and family. Leave it to a big push outdoors to make you really appreciate things back home.

Ian, Laura, and I sat on a couch one night eating dinner and watching a movie. Cozy under a blanket, Ian said, “This. This right here is what we were dreaming of while on the final day of El Cap.” He was right. We chase these outdoor extremes that push and test us. We need them. We cherish them. But their greatest gift is reminding us how blessed we have it at home, how much we love our friends and family, and how daily life is pretty great too. 

My parents and I squeezed one final adventure into my last California day. We’ve always bonded over a shared love of nature and wildlife. We look for animals while we drive and no vacation is complete without searching for the local fauna.

I’ve guided people from all over the world to look for critters. Most of these world travelers have hit the major wildlife hotspots of Africa, Australia, South America, the Arctic, and more. I always ask what their favorite sightings have been. I am consistently surprised when above all else - all the big cats, the elephants, the monkeys - hands down the most common answer is whales.

We connect with them - they are mammals like us, predominantly have a single off-spring that stays with them relatively long, communicate through language, and are exceptionally smart. Some cetaceans even engage in sex for pleasure. Yet they astound us with their long distance migrations, sheer size, and the fact they live in an environment where they can’t breathe. The ocean is like space. We are still exploring it and we can’t fully grasp its size. Thus we both fear it and are drawn to it. Whales have a way of connecting us to this foreign environment through curiosity and confusion. 

My family has had consistent luck with cetaceans. Ian and I have surfed with many dolphins. My dad and I had a minke whale surface two feet from our kayak. And this year of blogging started with some tremendous humpback sightings in Hawaii.

Fortunately in California we don’t have to drive far to see these same critters. On my final day my parents and I boarded a boat in Monterey. In 4 hours we saw 100+ Risso’s dolphins and 5 humpback whales.

Seeing a whale’s back rise above the water is one thing. Seeing several tail flukes, flipper-slaps, and a partial breach is even better. But having a calf surface right next to our boat and even swim under it is the holy grail. We had all this and more and it was the perfect way to wave goodbye to this month. Thank you California, the ocean, my friends, and particularly my family. What a killer month it was. 

Ok it’s single digits right now in Wyoming. I don’t know if my body is ready. But the snow is here! It’s back to where this year began with face shots and buttery turns. I miss my Jackson family so much and can’t wait to let the winter shenanigans begin.

Oh, and I start work in a week. Uh oh. I forgot what that feels like. I haven’t guided a tour since April. We’ll see how that first trip goes. But f*ck it we’ll do it live! Wyoming here we come!