Scary Solo Stories

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Rankin

climber
Bishop, CA
Aug 24, 2006 - 01:36am PT
I din't read all of the above, but there's some outrageous shiite from what I have read. As for me, my scariest solo was an onsight solo of Little Corner at Shortoff Mountain in the Linville Gorge of North Carolina. Certainly an easy solo for me at the time, but I was so exhausted after having already soloed the North Ridge of Table Rock, Bumblee Buttess on NC Wall and the Mummy in the Amphitheatre. It was the middle of December, so I had started in the dark, blasted the first three formations and then started running the five miles to the top of Shortoff where I could eye the route. I ran into some guys who had hiked in on the Shortoff side of the gorge, and they looked all concerned for me when I told them about the day I'd had. I was sucking down the last of my jerky and an orange and stumbing around a bit as I made my way down the gully to the base of the route. Looking up, the route seemed fine, and would have been great, but my biceps and legs started cramping after the first hundred feet. I mostly stayed on route, and took my time, but was in pretty damn bad shape. It was hard to commit to longer reaches or higher steps because I was afraid my body would lock up while extended. So scary. I kept plodding on, I'm not sure it would have been safer to try and downclimb, and it was defintely quicker to keep climbing, so I did. At one point, the route wasn't completly obvious and I ended up commiting to moves through a bulge on lichen-covered horizontals, at about 350 feet to the deck. Just kept breathing and hoped to not start cramping. Fortunately, the climbing worked out, and the buzz I felt toping out took care of the pain. I still had water and a bagel left for the five miles back, so I was ultra psyced. I had wanted to do that link-up for a couple years, and had never heard of anyone who had done anything like it in the Gorge. I only knew of a couple people who had made the hike between the Amphitheatre and Shortoff, so I felt really out there all day.
Maysho

climber
Truckee, CA
Topic Author's Reply - Aug 24, 2006 - 09:13am PT
Tom,

You better expand on those Leap by headlamp references. East Corner in the dark sounds totally nuts!

Peter
Rhodo-Router

Gym climber
Otto, NC
Aug 24, 2006 - 09:23am PT
Peter- that's a great story about the skating traverse. I'm a hafta pass it around here.
Rob
sevrdhed

Boulder climber
salt lake city
Aug 24, 2006 - 10:16am PT
Sure is Blitzo. Love that climb. Y'know the rock at the base, that you stand on to start the route? That's what he hit. I still have to get my dad back up that route. (Although I think we'll put him on TR this time.... haha)

Steve
Tarbuster

climber
right here, right now
Aug 24, 2006 - 11:14am PT
I wonder if Looking Sketch's 10 Karat Solo has a story in it...

Dang Petey, that was worth the words, one of the better adventures banged out on the keys and posted.

The Blanchard cliff hanger is pretty good too.

Rankin: I was out on a 15 hour backountry solo a couple months ago and I had a similar experience; I was opting for a direct finish on a "4th class" 14K route, found myself pulling very carefully executed, vert 5.7 moves on small holds on a N Face. Verglass in spots, lightweight mountain boots on the feet and feeling the holds through thin gloves as my legs began cramping on the stretchy high steps. I could feel the fear and adrenalin slowly rising from my toes all the way up to my neck...

Tarbuster

climber
right here, right now
Aug 24, 2006 - 11:30am PT
Like most of us I’ve logged gobs of solos over the years, but I don't recall too many thrutchy experiences.

I have done the Vision a couple of times; the second time up I was singing a little song to myself about the years marking change and when I got to the crux some of the nice crisp edges had busted off, but it went okay.

Out in Eldorado one day, I told Katie Cassidy that I was heading out for some soloing, thinking nothing of it and she said “You be careful Mr. Roy”, and I felt like this was kind of a jinx, so I was a little heads up, maybe even extra wary. I started with an on-site of some seldom climbed 3 pitch 5.8 with some really cool long lie back reach throughs.

On route to my second multi-pitch adventure of the day, I passed the scene of a pretty serious rescue effort, so I figured, OK, that's the spooky bit, I’m in the clear. I went on to do an on-site of the Roof Wall on Hot Spur. I decided to do the 5.10 direct start, just to get my head tightened up, because I knew the clean under cling was the last bit of solid rock on the route. The crux is a 5.9 finger crack about three pitches up and it goes through a modest roof/bulge (Jim Erickson calls it "Huge" in his book). It was good times picking my way through all this loose rock on what turned out to be a pretty neat climb.

The scariest solo I ever did was actually leading a climb called Yes Fragile on the Rotwand. I swear to biscuit, every piece of gear was lateral panty weight mank behind loose flakes. Up near the top I started making balancey moves and I felt each one was the deciding factor of whether or not I was going to see an opportunity to make another.
goatboy smellz

climber
bouldercolorado
Aug 24, 2006 - 02:46pm PT
"panty weight mank behind loose flakes"


friggin poetry dude!
eeyonkee

Trad climber
Golden, CO
Aug 24, 2006 - 03:26pm PT
I mentioned this a few months ago in another post, but it seems appropriate for this thread. In 1981, having just done Freestone the day before with Rob Rohn and waiting for the arrival of my girlfriend from college, Eugenia, I decided to try to free-solo the NE Buttress of Higher Cathedral rock. At the time, I knew that Yabo had free-soloed it.

The climbing went fast and without incident for the first 8? pitches. For the many of you who have undoubtedly climbed it, it's mostly bomber 5.7 to 5.8 hand jamming - the perfect long free-solo. Then I got to the 5.10a face crux. After all of that solid crack climbing, the face bit, although short, seemed so scary. I must have started and then stopped 20 times before I finally decided that I didn't want Eugenia to arrive at the Valley with a "messy" situation involving me. So, I downclimbed the damn thing. The downclimbing was actually quite easy. I don't know that I ever told Eugenia about the incident.
AP

Trad climber
Calgary
Aug 24, 2006 - 03:35pm PT
A key thing is to be able to back down if need be. In 1986 I was in Yosemite and spent a few days with Dan Guthrie and Peter Croft. We would go to a cliff together, Peter would solo a bunch of stuff while Dan and I would rope up and do things in a conventional style.
I watched Peter solo up to the huge saddle like chickenhead on New Diversions, decide it was a bit weird to his liking, then downclimb a little ways and head on up another way.
Even the masters aren't afraid to back off sometimes on things way below their limit.
Tarbuster

climber
right here, right now
Aug 24, 2006 - 06:36pm PT
I think that's one of the many criteria which separate me from itinerant free soloists and I have thought about this a bit.

Croft used to go down things just to warm up and as I remember it, he said he got into the whole downsolo thing as a requirement for getting down free solo projects in the Bugaboo's.

Geez, I've onsighted gobs of stuff I was in no way prepared to descend (of course I can and have downclimbed lots of rock).

Walt used to free solo just one notch above his leading limit, partially leveraged by the lightness afforded by lack of a rope or rack...
Mimi

Trad climber
Seattle
Aug 24, 2006 - 07:06pm PT
Yeah, the sheer lightness of being without the rope or rack!

We miss you Walt.

Great stories everyone.
James

climber
A tent in the redwoods
Aug 24, 2006 - 08:56pm PT
Winter in Joshua Tree is like Hell when the furnace busts, but for some reason I had driven my tank of a S-10 eight hours to get there. The Monkeys had hunkered down through the grim weather and were anxiously awaiting my arrival and our subsequent departure to the Creek. I hadn't climbed much in the park and figured one more day in Josh wouldn't kill anyone.

The scrambling was circuitous: Double Cross, to The Flue, to Hobbit Book, to Gerinomo, to Half Track. Forty-five minutes into it and I needed a compass to find my as#@&%e. The monkeys had been spinning holds all winter; they were strong and lean. I had crushed racks of Nutter Butter cookies; I was an orca. Half the monkeys scampered back into the boulders to pack their dung into the caravan. I was tired but still pysched to climb and Jens and Renan were amped to show me around.

Across the road, in Real Hidden Valley, there's a steep cliff hidden behind talus with a sprinkle of routes. Renan eyeballed the far left one, Solo's Bee, and floated it while Jens slowly pulled on his Anasazis. Renan scampered back to the base and we watched transfixed as Jens started to dance up the Bebop Tango.
In Washington, they call him the Jackhammer. He has a nervous disorder that makes him vibrate like he blew thirteen lines of peruvian flake and today was no different. My palms were dripping buckets of sweat as Jens moved up. Sure, he had the route wired but I've seen Autumn leaves shake less. Jens hit the last hold and pulled over.

Renan, without skipping a beat, started his own swing into Bebop Tango. My eyeballs turned into saucers as Renan moved up the route. Jens had done the moves statically but Renan was hucking. His muscles were shaking, you couldn't get that pumped at a gas station. One more long move guarded the easy climbing to the summit. I held my breath and watched Renan rocket through the air. At the tip of his arc his fingers diddled a hold. He jerked onto his fingernails, pulling onto the edge, and hiking quickly to the top.

Feeling the pressure of the send train, I pulled on my shoes hoping the caboose wouldn't be too bad. I moved up the holds of Solo's Bee gripped to the bone. I'd say more but just thinking about that solo makes me want to sh#t myself.

In the morning it snowed. The Creek was better.
matty

Big Wall climber
Valencia, CA
Aug 24, 2006 - 09:10pm PT
Great stories everyone!!!

I think I have one that will fit.

A few years after my brother gave me my first harness and locking biner, ski mountaineering inspired me to learn to climb. So I went out and got a toprope setup; biners, rope, webbing. One heavily studied edition of "Mountaineering: The Freedom of the Hills" later and I was ready to go toproping. I headed out to the cliff with Josh, a friend I dragged from the dorm who had never been climbing. We parked at the base of a remote cliff and walked in. I picked a line via which I thought I could scramble up to the top. Trailing the rope and wearing my hiking boots, I started up. The first 20-30 feet led me to the right following a ramp that ended at a greatly sloping ledge with a dead tree above a 20-30 foot cliff to the talus/forest. To reach the top I must find a way around a blank 10 foot vertical section followed by a wide, dirty, low angle crack. Atop the crack stood a tree starting another ramp system to the top.

It was at the moment I decided to get to that next tree that I stopped scrambeling and started soloing. I traversed, left, up then back to meet the dirty crack. Moving up the crack I was one move away from safety as I grabed the last good hold to get over a steeper section. Commited,I smeared and pulled. I was almost there, and then I was moving backwards as the hold pulled off a large loose block. Falling, the block barely missed my right foot and then I was on my stomach sliding down the crack following it. I envisioned the cliff I was heading for, above the sloping ledge, above the larger cliff, above the talus and forrest. Accelerating quickly I flipped onto my butt and only had a few more moments to survey the situation before I hit the first cliff. My eyes landed on the dead tree. It was my only hope. I tried to steer that way , braced myself, and prepared to be launched. The tree came fast and I slammed into it bear hugging for dear life and feeling some broken off branches rip my fleash in the process. That dead tree probably moved few feet and I swear I heard the roots breaking. In my mind I was watching it rip out and fling me over the next drop. It held and I climbed down. Surveying myself I found no broken bones or deep cuts, but plenty of scrapes and bruises.

I hobbeled down to my friend and saw an amazed look on his face. Being around a slight corner, he had only heard the fall while witnessing a rapidly growing pile of rope at this feet. We went home after that. I was back a week later with someone who knew a way to the top, and we had a great time climbing. I'll never forget that first experience. It always makes me think about a plan for what might happen if something failed at any time, and that's a skill you can never have too much of. Hope you enjoyed my story, it's the first time I've written about it.

Matt
Nate D

climber
San Francisco
Aug 24, 2006 - 09:53pm PT
Golsen,
Just in case you weren't on the forum some time ago, this humdinger of a solo story may give some more insight into James' comment...

http://www.supertopo.com/climbing/thread.html?topic_id=178680#msg178680
Tarbuster

climber
right here, right now
Aug 24, 2006 - 10:56pm PT
Matty:
When Bob the Aid Man soloed Leaning Tower with just aiders and daisies, he had some kinda way out plan to track for the trees if he wipped. Now that's a miracle wip.

Shoot, I just read that link to the James story.
The event inquestion was in fact the first thead I followed when I began looking into climbing forums.

Whew, maybe now I get why you are a bit reluctant to leave up some of your solo stories James. Well, I really like the writing, just like everyone else.

Plus, yah, Bebop Tango ain't no cream puff.
john hansen

climber
Aug 24, 2006 - 11:14pm PT
In 85 or so , two rookie dudes(Me and my buddy) were atempting the gumby route 'Uncle Fannys' at churchbowl. He started out on lead got up a bit and put in a big hex, there was a crack in a corner going up around 15 feet (5.9) and a 5.7 slab out to the right. My buddy started up the crack thinking he could get in pro, not knowing it was 5.9. He got up about ten feet and was kinda stuck when some dude comes by my belay and walked up that slab like it was.... 5.7.
First time I saw a photo of Peter Croft I said to myself 'that was that guy'..
My friend fell out of the crack about 30 seconds later and broke his ankle. We really where 'wannabee,s'.

Another time in 84 or so our little gang was top roping at 'nintey foot wall' above Emerald bay at tahoe. A couple older longhaired dudes showed up and started free soloing all the 5.7 s and 5.8s. My brother was messing around with a 5.11 face climb on top rope in a pair of converse tennis shoes. The oldest guy came over and said " That ain't tennie shoe territory" and started giving us a pantomine showing how to stick the moves.
Then he walzted up another 5.8 sans rope.
Couple days later one of the guys that was there called me and said " Dude, that was Bridwell ,I just saw his pic in a climbing mag.'.
What a gracious man to take the time to talk to us newbies.
Not quite scary, but, about solo's at least
Karl Baba

Trad climber
Yosemite, Ca
Aug 25, 2006 - 03:49am PT
That Arrow Story is Ghengis. I just did the Arrow today and something about having left the anchor unattended while you are over on the the other side of that thing, with all kinds of tourists with strange ideas lurking about,

Well, it just makes the first round of Tyrolean that much more exciting

Peace

Karl
Teth

climber
Halifax, Nova Scotia, Canada
Aug 25, 2006 - 10:40am PT
I was eleven years old. I was out by myself and decided to climb the granite sea stack at Owl’s Head about a quarter mile from my house. My father had climbed it when he was young. The sea stack was about 50 feet of near vertical, well featured stone, separated from the cliff of its origin by about 25 feet of deep raging serf. Examining the route decades later I estimate it to be 5.6. About ten feet from the top I was backing off a move looking for a better alternative when the sheath of my hunting knife got caught on something and was turned upside down. The knife, which my father had given me for Christmas slipped out of its sheath and fell neatly into my rubber boot. I looked down at the raging serf breaking against the rock 40 feet below me and thought “Oh Sh!t, I could have lost my knife!”.

I remember the moment clearly, and it scares the crap out of me to think about it now, but at eleven I had no fear. I continued to the top, enjoyed the view, and then down climbed it.

Sometime after that incident I was climbing a 40 foot cliff and got to a ledge just below the top. Topping out from the ledge would have required that I climb a steep overhang, which on close inspection I was not sure if I was capable of climbing. I looked down at the jagged fractured granite boulders at the base and realized that if I fell I would get seriously messed up, and no one knew where to look for me if I was not able to get out on my own. I realized that I could have gotten myself into a really bad situation, and I found this to be very disturbing as I thought about the potential consequences. I found the down climb much more difficult, and scary, than the climb up had been.

Looking back on it I suspect that this incident is when I started to develop my fear of heights.

In the fall of 2001 I was participating in a route cleaning event organized by Climb Nova Scotia at a newly discovered cliff. After spending three hours on repel with a wire brush cleaning a 5.9 route (someone else’s project) I walked over to the lower end of the cliff where some people were bolting a sport route. After talking to them for a bit I wanted to look for some people who were at the top of the cliff, so in looking for the quickest and easiest way up I spotted a 20 foot well featured dihedral. This looked like a quicker way up than hiking around so I climbed up onto the ledge below it and then worked my way up to the top feeling quite secure. I pooped my head up over the top to see the whole crew of people I was looking for eating their lunch and a bunch of ropes and anchor gear strewn about. They were displaying some rather unusual expressions.

Let me quote from “Nova Scotia Rock, A Climber’s Guide”:
“Dirt Bag* 5.4, FA: Teth Cleveland (solo), October 28, 2001. Just to the left of Gobbles is an aesthetic inside-corner scrubbed for three hours by Nicole Brooks, who subsequently named the route Dirt Bag for a variety of reasons.”

I always felt bad about that. Of course I publicly apologized for inadvertently steeling her FA, and she claimed the name was due to the amount of dirt she scrubbed off, but I can’t help thinking that the name was appropriate “for a variety of reasons”.

Teth Cleveland
humblefeet

climber
May 6, 2007 - 03:23am PT
Isn't pulling through it whats it all about? What doesn't kill you only makes you stronger...if it does, at least you die happy.
Steve Grossman

Trad climber
Seattle, WA
May 6, 2007 - 11:31am PT
As John Yablonski used to say, "I get stronger when I shake." A boy and his gland..........
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