Link to the website version: http://theinspiredclimber.com/2014/06/26/a-first-ascent-story/

My latest adventure started off just like many others with a harmless email. The subject - a first free ascent in Kings Canyon National Park. Without giving it much thought I agreed to the proposition. Soon after I realized that throughout life I've always gravitated towards leadership roles, whether it be work or play. But this isn't true with climbing. Like many climbers I've never placed a bolt and never attempted a first ascent. I've never had to. Up to this point, I've simply followed in the footsteps of others. Over the last 6 years I've moved from one climb to the next, ticking off the classics. This logical process has guided me through my progression. But maybe there's more to this whole rock climbing thing than just recording the next big tick.



With this in mind, I strapped in to the high-energy rocket ship that is Luke Stefurak and Casey Zak. This was my first time climbing with either of them and I knew I was in for a ride within minutes of hitting the trail. We mounted our 45 lb. packs and stormed down the trail 7.5 miles to basecamp. I tried to focus on my new friends' conversation, but found myself drifting into my own thoughts. Can I keep up with these guys? Do I really have what it takes mentally to establish a first ascent? I had no idea, but maybe that's why I'm here.



The trail hummed by, our tents went up, and by 10am we were at the base of Bubbs Creek Wall. Armed with a vague topo from the first ascent we stared up at the glistening face trying to find the line that would take us 16+ pitches to the top. I quickly learned that this was a flawed style of thinking. With a first ascent (or first free ascent), it doesn't matter what lies ahead, only what's right in front of us. We couldn't guarantee that even the first pitch would go free. I swallowed the ocean of doubt and rode the wave of optimism provided by Luke and Casey. With some trickery and boldness Casey dispatched the first two pitches, weaving his way up the face and finding variations around the aid line. He was on a roll, but I knew it was my turn.



My mind was stuck somewhere between terrified and excited, but Casey's words of encouragement sliced through my concerns. Pulling and pinching on the orange, crystal dike I quickly slipped and fell not far from the belay. Returning back to the stance, I focused on the next move and floated through the features that had never been climbed free before. One after another I clipped the 1/4" button head bolts, praying that I wouldn't have to test another one. I yelled down below saying, "It's not that hard, 5.10b at most." This was a recurring theme for me. Faced with climbing a pitch with no consensus grade I constantly sandbagged my friends. Maybe my mind had risen to the challenge and everything was clicking. Or perhaps my mind was trying to rationalize the decision to lead, telling myself that this was no big deal. Whatever the case, I found my ability to judge the pitch difficulties near impossible and simply tried to focus on surviving each move as it came. Luke and Casey later told me they thought the pitch was 5.11a.


The hours ticked by and we fell into a calm rhythm. My virgin hands took hold of the hammer and I drilled my first bolt. A strange sense of pride fell over me as I finally understood what it was like to contribute rather than just use. We bailed halfway through the seventh pitch, as the final rays of light faded across the surrounding peaks. Casey left for home early the next morning. With lead filled boots Luke and I returned to the face, gunning for the top. We gave it a great effort redpointing the first 6 pitches, but the route decided that this prize needed to be earned. The 7th and 8th pitches took time. We resorted to aid, allowing the follower to work through the moves free. The marathon 8th pitch expanded my mind, teaching me how to hook and hammer beaks. This is the kind of thing I 've only read about.


With a few more bolts replaced and the 9th pitch freed with little trouble, we decided to throw in the towel. Our high spirits carried us down the face and the warm glow of our headlamps lit the way back to camp. Freeze dried food never tasted so good. I've bailed off many routes, but this time it felt more satisfying. We talked of the route and our plans to return. Some day others may climb this route and that idea adds to my excitement. I want others to experience this little slice of heaven. But first we have to convince the mountain to let us pass.


-Aaron Cassebeer