Brian & Bridgid

The hallmark of the journey that has taken us away from “real world” things like jobs and into the climbing bum counterculture are the happiness that we experience while climbing and living in natural places, and the personal growth that we experience while expanding our comfort zones on the rock. We avoid making arbitrary goals that feed our egos with big names, high grades, and notorious reputation. With that said, we do find motivation by striving for goals, both long-term and short, which are in line with our passions.

We arrived in Yosemite for the fall season with two routes on the agenda that would act as indicators of our progress while we improve our competence in the art of Yosemite climbing. These routes are Royal Arches, (5.7 A0) and East Buttress of Middle Cathedral (5.9 A0) and we completed the second goal yesterday. Although we feel a strong sense of accomplishment for meeting both of our goals way ahead of schedule, the climb was not particularly pleasant and if we had known what was in store for us we likely would have scratched the climb off of our list.

Yesterday morning we packed our bags by headlamp and were on the trail before dawn. Despite our early start, there was already a party in front of us. We stretched on the amazing pedestal at the base of the route and watched the headlamps of climbers across the valley, high on El Cap, preparing for another day of pushing for the summit. While we waited, we noticed that the party in front of us was a bit slow but had we known how bad they were we would have turned around and headed back to the car.

My old housemate and incredible speed climber, Shane, introduced me to the term “gumby” to describe incompetent climbers. We all are gumbies at some point in our climbing careers, but the derogatory use of the term is typically reserved for individuals who severely impair the fun and/or safety of other climbers through blatant incompetence. And the climbers in front of us were supreme gumbies.

We followed the slow climbers closely with the intention of passing at a route variation 4 pitches up the 11 pitch route. As was to be the norm for the rest of the route, we spent more time standing at uncomfortable belay stances waiting than we did climbing. When we got to the passing lane, I headed up. Unfortunately, I didn’t bring the extremely small cam that was needed to protect the 5.10a crux of the variation. I assessed the danger of the fall and decided to run it out, even though it would mean making a difficult move 15 feet out from my last protection. I committed to the moves but I came off and took a 35 foot fall. I was not willing to risk taking this fall again so I lowered back down to the belay and got back in line.

The gumbies were moving up the bolt ladder at a speed that would have frustrated a sloth. They seemed to spend more time hanging and doing nothing than they did making upward progress. After giving them some time to space out I started up the bolt ladder. As I reached for the first bolt, I heard a yell of “rock”, the climbers equivalent of the golfers “fore”, coming from above. Usually climbers indicate the severity of what has been dropped by the volume and level of panic in their voice, and this one was serious. We did all that one can do in such a situation, which is to bury one’s body and face against the rock, keep the head vertical so the helmet is straight above he head, and cover the back of the neck with any free hands. A heavy missle came came wizzing and hissing down behind me. A pathetic “sorry” came from above and a “dude, they dropped an f-ing cam” came from a party below. I prefaced a suggestion for them to get their act together with an, “I’m trying to be constructive here,” but they only had lame excuses.

Unfortunately, the cam was not the last missile to be fired at us that day. The gumbies also managed to pull off some rocks. This is almost entirely due to their carelessness, but it also was testament to the scruffy nature of the climb. The rock had lots of sandy edges and loose flakes and the quality of the climbing didn’t measure up to it’s reputation as a classic.

Bridgid and I tried to practice an attitude of acceptance and deal with the situation with a positive attitude, but the gumbies in front of us combined with the rude climbers tailgating close behind made the situation very taxing. Eventually, we made it to the top, exhausted, and booked it towards the descent gully. Luckily, we made it past the rappels and confusing bits as the last light of day faded.

Today we woke feeling sore and exhausted and we plan on taking at least 2 rest days. Then we’re not sure what’s on the agenda. Certainly, there will be plenty of cragging on the incredible crack lines around here and we’ll continue to focus on our technique, fitness, and confidence. If the crowds clear, we’re considering an afternoon foray a few pitches up the Nose of El Cap. We’re also considering the posibility of sampling a big wall like the South Face of Washington Column. Unfortunately, the relatively easy climbing and logistics that would make this a good first wall for us can also attract, you guessed it, the gumbies. Luckily that route can be rappeled from any pitch so we could bail quick if things got fishy.