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Ed Hartouni
Trad climber
Livermore, CA
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Topic Author's Original Post - Nov 15, 2008 - 03:18am PT
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A Belayer's Thoughts... Yosemite Valley, Spring 1952. Yosemite again! The transition period between winter and spring brought its compelling force into play, drawing us to the bleak rockface barring the way to the Tree up on the face of El Capitan. A passing storm brought a foot or two of powder snow, and now, in the laughing sunshine of a new day, there: were untold pleasures for the eye. Across the way, Cathedral Rock glistened with its coat of while; the smooth wall of El Capitan spoke of summer--there were no imperfections for snow to touch. Climbing up the talus, I recalled a previous year .... standing close to the face in the protection of the giant overhang a thousand feet above, watching as Phill Bettler climbed down from the alcove twenty-five feet above. We had gone as far as possible without using direct aid. I remembered also the endless rain falling from the mists.
"Tension'" Cold fingers tightened quickly to the command as Bob Swift pulled his 180 pounds up onto the bolt. Tedious business. A shrill whistle from above caused us instinctively to hug the rock. Other people play golf on Sundays, I thought silently, as a large slab of ice crashed into the talus, alarmingly close to the cliff .... yet, what is it that brings us here? Curse the thought. Must one have an answer? Far better to enjoy the sweetness and dispense with the inclination to study the physiology of taste! A wave of apprehension came over me and I called to Bob, around the corner from my alcove. The answer as usual was nearly unintelligible, but I gathered he was nearly ready to come down and rest a while. Working with those few bolt holes drilled in a previous attempt - not ours - was tiresome and risky. A blessing that we had brought baling wire and extra nails! The well-known whistle sent Siri and Dunmire, who were gathering water for the evening meal, rushing toward the safety of the wall. A barrage of chips and blocks loosened by the sun hom the rim plunged into the snow, obliterating part of the long line of steps leading across this no man's land.
All part of the game. A bit of risk to quicken the pulse. Fun, yet not fun, if you insist.
Bob began the descent, urging me to lower him always faster. He was a mass of sling-rope, hardware, and cheerfulness ... similar, perhaps, to those who must climb around on telephone poles and high-tension towers for money. Siri was psychologically prepared to go up and beat his hammer against the wall, or might it be his head? Striking similarity. To our surprise he began putting in a piton! Is it possible? Sure enough-there was the head, sticking out from a hidden crack. This climb is becoming disgustingly easy, I thought. A few more followed the first piton, and Will came down, retiring for the evening.
Now we would see. For months we had speculated, looked through binoculors, and speculated again. Even with the naked eye, it was hard to say whether there was a ledge above this first lead. If not, we would best give up the climb and go home. All in vain? Most of us had fallen arches from standing at the foot of the cliff, watching as the leader hammered and hammered! Isn't that reward enough?
Morning brought its reward of freshness of spirit and muscle. We responded quickly to the challenge, each wondering - hoping that the other would volunteer his services to continue the lead. Had I dreamt of those falling slabs? Seems to me I could even, upon occasion, hear the sound of the individual fragments.
In the prusik slings again, swinging slowly round and round in the air. At the high piton, rest again. Oh for a hold, a small tiny ledge for the fingers to grip! A slab of marble might have offered fewer holds. Recalling the structure of the "Wilder Kaiser" and the Dolomiles, I supposed, in a moment of phantasy, the whole of this rock mass a finely fractured limestone banding. Away with those bolts! We were climbing onward. In a matter of minutes we were at the top of the sheer cliff, a record climb! "Fantastic," said the voices, "impossible!" "The greatest thing since the Zinne Nordwande ... reminiscent, indeed, of Dulfer's maxim: 'You go as long as it is possible, and when it is no longer possible, you make a rope-traverse and continue on.' Simple enough, is this fundamental of climbing philosophy.
The carabiner gate clamped its jaws tight on my finger. Gone were the voices and the wonderful magic rock with its chisseled holds. A voice cursed the tiny implement so dear, oddly enough, to the climber. I always get those things in backwards, a difficult job even for the most meticulous of climbers. Finally, a large ledge, large enough to allow both feet to stand comfortably. Dunmire began to follow.
A good ledge it was, and we soon were sitting at the base of the "Tree." Oddly, the sound of a tree frog was quite audible. Here was an isolated outpost of nature ... unsullied by contact with its infinitely larger life-source below in the Valley. Just the sort of material for a jolly Ph.D. thesis on wild life, it seemed.
Throughout the two days, the cliffs had not budged an inch. Rock-climbing in its purest form is the safest of all the components of Mountaineering, I mused. Take river-crossing, for example ... (I shuddered at the thought). Clearly a case of mind over matter, but quite a lively bit of matter. You step in a stream not knowing whether there is a bottom or not. But rock, well, it's there to be seen and touched. You hit it, and it usually does not move. I like rock, but maybe I'm prejudiced.
As I said, other people like golf.
Allen Steck AAJ 1953 page 539
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Lynne Leichtfuss
Social climber
valley center, ca
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Nov 15, 2008 - 03:21am PT
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Immersing in the waters of rock lore is only possible cause of folks like you. Thanks ... more than ya know. lrl
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survival
Big Wall climber
A Token of My Extreme
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Nov 15, 2008 - 03:22am PT
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Ed,
I like rock too.
Sort of like the one between my ears.....
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mouse from merced
Trad climber
The finger of fate, my friends, is fickle.
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Fun, yet not fun, if you insist.
Type 2, no question.
No one seems to write this way very much anymore.
RR was very good at it, but lacked the funny bone Steck's writing shows.
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guido
Trad climber
Santa Cruz/New Zealand/South Pacific
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CLASSIC!
Whoa 1953..........
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Ed Hartouni
Trad climber
Livermore, CA
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Topic Author's Reply - Mar 3, 2018 - 09:48pm PT
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it was sad to me to see that tree, gloriously sitting on that ledge full of life in 1970 dead in 2010.
Sad, but I am thankful that I got to see it.
It is one of my most favorite spots in the Valley.
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i-b-goB
Social climber
Wise Acres
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Fantastic!
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Steve Grossman
Trad climber
Seattle, WA
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That is sad news indeed. Such a grand anomaly was the El Cap Tree.
But what a wonderful bit of history and so very Steck!
I never made it up there.
Thanks for the share Ed.
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PhilG
Trad climber
The Circuit, Tonasket WA
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Thanks Ed.
I remember quite clearly how proud Pat and I were when we made it to the Tree back in those days.
I also remember a scary rappel!
Thanks for taking the time to post some history.
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guido
Trad climber
Santa Cruz/New Zealand/South Pacific
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I never was any good at golf. Took it in college, powerful stroke but kept hitting the balls onto the nearby freeway and bored me to no end.
Steck was my boss and mentor in the late 50s early 60s and for sure we never played golf together!
Ten years after the first ascent I got to climb this gem. First time with Wayne Hildebrand and second time I think with Denny. I so remember reflecting on the wall above that it would never be climbed................
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Ed Hartouni
Trad climber
Livermore, CA
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Topic Author's Reply - Mar 4, 2018 - 10:13am PT
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It is somewhat ironic, given Steck's impressions of the permanence of rock, that the route he climbed in 1953 departed the wall (at least major parts of it) and the new route is something different...
the power of water, and lack of water on the landscape we move in.
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NutAgain!
Trad climber
South Pasadena, CA
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It felt good to read this.
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Fossil climber
Trad climber
Atlin, B. C.
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Thanks for posting this, Ed. Wonderful writing.
Gary Hemming and I tried the Tree in about 1953, in innocent optimism. Hemming had just decided that the old Rebuffat aiders - cord, with multiple aluminum steps - were a great idea. After a great deal of jangling, tangling and obscenity (Gary was a master) we gave up on it. Would have been nice to know what we were doing.
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SwifterA
Social climber
CA
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Apr 29, 2018 - 05:56pm PT
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Right you are, Mouse and others. In my estimation Steck's writing was as great and as innovative as his routes. But in the 50's at least there were folks who couldn't approach the skills of AS or RR, so made fun instead. Specifically, Steck was mocked for having found beauty in an orange peel skittering down a rock face (Yeah, but how many pins did you…? etc.) And the pundits mocked RR for finding comparable boosts to his spirits from Mozart's music and from light on Yosemite granite.
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john hansen
climber
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Apr 29, 2018 - 07:16pm PT
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Ed said the tree died in 2010, is the tree still there? I would think it would last for quite some time even if it was dead.
Now it has about 10,000 more dead trees in the valley for company.
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