I know why I'd avoided this climb. It was hung with all the wrong ornaments. A blank beginning, witches teeth towers, a dark character. But like those of us with more than slight addictions, I needed just one more climb. I didn't exactly set my sights on the east arete of the Citadel but it was playing a tune in my head. One that had been going on for 30 years.

I tuned up, or tried to tune up, with some bouldering, running, scare myself again climbs in the meadows. Back returned the fantasy of moving confidently through the climbing gauntlet. I tripped and stumbled to the point where I'd have moments where the mind/body thing would click on a climb. Time, as usual, wasn't waiting around for my comeback. It was mid September and if I wanted to frost this climbing season's cake I needed to get this climb done.

Ryan couldn't make it. Something about signing a construction contract. You're kidding me, right. Doing the responsible thing. Never in a million youthful moons. Keating was going to a parent/teacher conference. No,no,no, care for someone besides yourself. That would be heresy in 1979.

I called Peter Croft. We knew each other enough to say hello at slide shows and receptions. Of course I'd heard the rumors about his unroped climbing.

When we finally connected we talked about John Bachar's passing. How his death deflated the collective ballon some. By the end of the conversation we'd blown some air back at our sails, checked the calender, and made a date. Now, calling Croft was a big deal for me. Croft's been on top of his game for decades. I'm well, a 53 year old county employee. My wife Nancy made it clear that I was the junior member of the team. Thank you for the reality check Nancy that I really don't need.

Nevertheless, jumping in.

An early snowstorm reminds us it's late in the year for the high country. I pick up the buzzing Croft. I can tell right away he's one of those people hard wired to never slow. One could jog or skateboard to keep up. We park at South Lake and start the sixteen mile march into Le Conte canyon. The hike in is a good personality cross check. We're both from the same Camp 4 era. We both have heart and home on the east side. This feels good, this could turn out to be another strand in the cord.

At the lip of Dusy Basin Peter gets his first look at the east arete. There's no need for me to embellish the scene or need to build any enthusiasm.

"That's the best looking arete in the canyon", Peter bursts. Indeed, in my opinion the arete is one of the longest, cleanest lines in the Sierra. We look at what might be the harder parts of the climb. Two series of towers are what have had me worried. Lucky there's no snow on the north wall which is where I think the towers can be passed. Down into the canyon and a camp directly across the river from the arete. I hand Peter the binos while I stack firewood. We look at route possibilities. "What about up and right from that dead tree at the base"....."It looks like from the top of that corner with a roof at the top"...."What about that fault, that leads up to that clean corner, that leads to the arete"...."Yea I see that. That'll go. That'll work!"

One last confirmation before a shot of tequilla and ramen.

I'm up at 4:30 a.m. to re kindle the campfire. Peter gets the blessed Peet's going. Originally I'd thought that a bivvy might be needed on the climb but as we pack up we say screw the maybe bivvy and bring more clif bars instead. At 6:00 a.m. we make our way through talus to the base. We stop for five seconds and start simul climbing. At 8:30 we're half way up the climb and Peter makes the duh, "we're not bivvying". I crack up. With Croft in the lead we are flying. With 50 feet to go at the belays I untie the anchor and start climbing and coiling the rope as I go. It's hard to tell how many pitches we're doing. At every possible slow down the magical holds appear. The rock is solid. No need to avoid any loose blocks or ledge litter. We move off the arete no more than ten feet. The two rows of teeth that caused concern go easily. We whip past the Edge of Time arete. The route looks great. What a beat out to do it in a day!

We eat lunch on the windless summit. I don't believe that just happened. 2,500 hundred feet of elevation, one half mile of traversing, 5.8 climbing on clean granite. Even the descent where we could have cliffed out goes smoothly back to camp.

Back at camp we decide to coffee up and hike out. A full moon comes up over the Palisades as we reach upper Dusy Basin and lights our way back over Bishop Pass.

I keep thinking how amazingly perfect the day has been. This arete is/was the longest, cleanest big route left in the High Sierra. Such an honor to have done it with Croft. The man is absolutely the bomber jug at the top.

Norman Claude