October 2019
In October 2019 I found myself at a college party of Clay Schwinger’s back at his parents place. I met the Schwinger’s back in the summer of 2017 and quickly bonded with Clay, and eventually his entire family. I now view them as exactly that, my family. They’ve given me that feeling of family in a place where I don’t have any. I typically don’t drink, but for some reason or another I chose to partake on this day. At some point in the night I found myself talking with Steve, Clay’s father, about future big wall missions. I’ve heard Steve talk about his desires and thoughts of climbing El Capitan, but he seemed to think he was too old, and that maybe his chance had passed him by. Hogwash. I promised Steve that I would take him up El Capitan in the spring of 2021, nearly two years in the future. In my mind it was over then and there, we were climbing El Capitan in the spring of 2021.
The Leadup
A year went by, Covid hit hard, and plans changed. My spring trip to Yosemite got cancelled because the park closed, My fall solo trip became a partnered trip with Jon where we climbed Desert Shield, The Nose, and Lurking Fear. Eventually I returned in April of 2021 to solo The Muir Wall. Through all that though, I never wavered in my commitment to climb The Big Stone with Steve in the Spring of 2021.
Initially the plan was for Steve, Clay, and I to climb it together. Eventually that plan morphed and it was now going to be Steve, Clay, Perry (Clay’s brother) and Camy (Perry’s fiance) and I. This was my family, and I was beyond excited. Logistically though, a party of 5 seemed impossible and impractical, but I also knew that there would be nothing better than Steve to be surrounded by his sons and future daughter in law when he stood on the summit. It seemed like The Nose was the logical choice for the climb, but as the party size grew, I began to worry about crowds and the logistical challenges of a group of 5. I suggested we switch routes to Lurking Fear, a less popular, but arguably easier alternative to The Nose.
There would be two groups of 2, Camryn and Perry and then Steve and Clay, with me kind of bouncing in between, joining both groups periodically and being there to help whoever needed it. This strategy sounded fun, but a bit outrageous on the face of it. It was going to be a challenge to keep both groups close enough that I could reach either group when necessary, while at the same time ensuring that neither group held up the other one, slowing us down.
Steve, Perry, Camy, and I began training together, giving up good free climbing days on the Front Range for Big Wall practice days to ensure everyone was up to speed, smooth, and efficient for The Big Stone. Clay and the rest of the crew went out once or twice to work on a few things, but Clay had done a few big walls, and in general is just a stud so he mostly stayed in Colorado Springs to focus on school. Much of the focus was spent on lower outs, jugging, and aid climbing sequences. In November of 2020 Perry and I climbed Lunar Ecstasy for his first Big Wall and he was able to transfer that knowledge to the others when I wasn’t able to be there. As a practice run the four Schwinger’s took a trip to Zion to fine tune their skills and get ready for The Big Stone.
Rock Fall Accident
I met the Schwinger crew in Morrison after finishing a shortened night at work. Clay jumped in the car with me and we followed the other 3 as we drove from The Front Range to Bakersfield California, grabbing a hotel for the night. All 5 of us packed into the hotel room, and I jumped on one of their brand new G7 Pods to crash for the night. Camy showed me a notebook she had put together where she had meticulously drawn the topo for Lurking Fear, writing tidbits of beta and information she had compiled for each and every pitch. I was blown away by her artwork and her dedication to learning the route so intricately. I suggested to the group that we try and get to the Valley as early as possible, and hike up our 12 gallons of water to the base of the route, as I remembered the approach with the Pigs on our back being the worst part of the experience for Jon and I.
We got to the Valley around 9am, and after a brief stop at Tunnel View for pictures, drove straight to the El Cap Bridge where we jumped out of the car and prepared to lug up our water. I told everyone to grab their harnesses, gri-gris, and ascenders for the fixed lines up the 4th class section just below the base of the route. In this short section, we would be required to use fixed lines to go up about 150 feet of easy climbing that would be trivial without a load, but with 35 pounds of water were not to be taken too lightly.
We hiked up passing multiple parties, most doing single pitch routes along El Capitan, but meeting a few who were starting their own adventure up The Big Stone. Clay, Camy, and I mostly stuck together, while Perry and Steve hiked up a little behind us. Camryn was mega stoked and mentioned her fear and nervousness was turning into pure excitement as we got closer. I could see her absolutely beaming and Clay dubbed her our team Mascot, saying she embodied everything that is El Capitan.
We got to the base of the 4th class terrain and waited for Perry and Steve to catch up. From there Clay took off, barely using the fixed rope and climbing up. As he neared the top I started up as well, reaching him after a few minutes. Clay and I were standing at the top of the fixed ropes, waiting for the other 3 so that I could show them the way and we could drop off our water and go get some food.
While standing there, I heard Clay say that he saw a #2 camalot on the ground. I walked over to see the booty, expecting to see it all mangled and unusable from a large fall above. As Clay bent over I saw a perfect looking cam laying on the ground just to the right of where we stood on the trail. Clay picked up the Cam and then I saw a large rock start to slide away. This entire section is loose, but nothing out of the ordinary. The rock appeared to be somewhere between the size of a softball and a bowling ball. I know thats a fairly wide range, but it all happened so fast, I struggle to remember exactly what it looked like. Clay and I both began to shout rock as loud and quickly as possible. Several seconds went back and then I began to hear screaming and shouting below. The anguished yell of Steve is imprinted in my memory, bringing me back to the day I saw a fellow climber fall off Broadway, just below The Diamond, 600 feet to his death. I instantly became nauseous, fearing the worst, but unable to see what exactly occurred.
After several more seconds went by I could hear the panicked voices of all 3 of my companions below. Steve and Perry were very excited and agitated, and Camryn seemed the most calm. I heard people shouting we had to go down, it’s broken, and I thought I heard Steve say the rock hit Camy in the head. The nauseousness increased and I nearly vomited right there. My head was spinning trying to process what happened. I’ve seen many rocks go tumbling down, shouting rock for those below as a courtesy and and warning, but nothing ever comes of it. It always goes off to the side and becomes something you mention later. “woah, that could have killed someone.” But this time it didn’t turn out that way. As the situation settled it became clear the 3 below us were retreating back to the trail below. I could see Camy rappelling below us, and I heard her say it might not be broken, it might just be sprained. I didn’t even know what “it” was at this point, but from my vantage point she looked fine. I started to calm down, thinking maybe this was all an over reaction to a glancing blow from the rock. I saw Camy start to walk out and noticed she had a limp, but she was walking under her own power. There’s no way she was walking on her own with a break in her leg, it will all be ok. We will delay a few days and we will continue on and get the route done.
Steve and Perry left all their water in the middle of the 4th class terrain and helped Camy down and back to the car. From there I assumed they would make their way to the clinic in Yosemite Village, where we would meet them and figure out how to proceed. Clay and I finished lugging all the groups water to the base of the route and ran down as fast as possible to find our companions and check on Camryn. Clay was visibly shook up, saying he was never going to climb another big wall, and that he was done with these big adventures.
We made it down and learned that the Yosemite Clinic was closed on the weekends and that the crew had made their way to the hospital in Mariposa. We rushed to join them and learned that it was not a glancing blow, but that the rock had struck Camy square on her ankle, bouncing off of her, and nearly hitting Perry as well. As we screamed rock Camy had time to lunge forward and grab the rope, which is likely all that prevented her from being knocked off the 4th class terrain, off the mountain, and to her near certain death below. As I learned this I started to get nauseous again, my head spinning, immediately thinking of the ways I failed everyone as the group leader. I told them not to bring their daisies. If I had told them to bring their daisies and attach themselves to the fixed ropes, Camy wouldn’t have had to rely on her reflexes and sheer will power to hold on to the rope and keep herself alive. I totally failed them with that advise. I didn’t take it serious enough and it almost cost one of my dearest friends her life. We shouldn’t have been traveling so closely to one another. I forgot how loose it was above that 4th class terrain, and I gave zero advice to the group as how to navigate it. Again, I failed them in that regard. I began thinking of some of the things Camy said along the hike. I heard her mention that we could just drop the water at the base of the 4th class terrain instead of going all the way up. I wish now I listened a little closer to that advice. Camy asked me how my ankle was holding up, knowing that it was injured from my recent solo of El Cap. Ironic and amusing to think about my “injured ankle” which is likely the most minor of sprains. It’s hard because we all know these things can happen, and any day we are out here climbing there could be an accident, but the reality is we don’t ever think it’s going to happen to us. And it usually doesn’t. But it’s quite sobering when it does.
!!!GRAPHIC PHOTO WARNING!!
!
!
!
!
!
Steve relayed that he didn’t think Camy’s leg was broken, and if it was it was likely a minor fracture. He showed us her shoe which was covered in blood and told us that the blood just never stopped coming out of the wound the whole way to the hospital. News developed quickly and we learned that Camy had a significant open fracture to her Fibula, that she may need emergency surgery, and that this injury was quite serious. Steve ended up driving Camy to a hospital in Modesto, her surgery got pushed back, and Camy and Perry wound up on a flight from Oakland to Denver the next morning. Steve returned to us the next day and we then began the talks of whether or not to continue the mission without Camryn and Perry.
Clay was taking it pretty hard, feeling responsible for the accident. Everyone was pretty emotional as the reality set in of what had occurred and what it meant for the future of not only this trip, but for the foreseeable future for Camy and Perry. One positive that was taken away from this was seeing just how much Perry loved Camy. Of course we knew they were in love, having been recently engaged. But to truly see that raw emotion spilling out of him was something special to witness.
Ultimately the decision was made to do the climb. This started as a promise to Steve and seeing as he’s 54 years old, realistically he didn’t know how many more opportunities he would have to make this dream come true. Camy and Perry are young, and while we are all heartbroken that the summit pictures wouldn’t look the way we envisioned it, Camy’s story in particular will be one hell of a comeback story when it plays out. I can’t wait to be there with the two of them on the Summit of El Capitan, in 2022 hopefully based on what Camy has said to me in the days following this adventure.
Day 1
Steve, Clay, and I got up around 3:30 am and began our departure from our Air Bnb in Mariposa, a farm with many beautiful animals, and began our drive to The Valley. We began hiking to the base of the climbs with our packs around 5:30 in the morning, planning to not fix any pitches, and just blast straight up from the ground. I believed this climb would likely take us 3 days, but we planned for 4 to give us some wiggle room.
As we got to the base of the 4th class approach where the accident had occurred, we made sure to take things a little more seriously this time, going up one at a time and attaching ourselves to the rope. Once we arrived at the base of the climb we looked up to see 3 parties above us. One was starting pitch 2, another was bivied in a portaledge on pitch 6, and another above them was working on the pitch 7 traverse. We also saw someone else had the first pitch fixed and their stuff was along the base of the route. Our weather window was short, and so we decided to head up and just bivy where we ended up. Prior to beginning the route, Perry and Camy called to urge us to do the climb, and Perry made me promise that I would use his G7 Pod as opposed to my own D4 Octapod Ledge. Previously I had refused to use their pods before they had a chance to use them, but given the circumstances, I agreed to whatever their wishes were.
The original plan was for both Steve and Camy to lead this first pitch. I thought Pitch 1 was fantastic and would be an excellent introduction to hooking for both of them with the security of bolts just below. To Steve’s eternal credit he didn’t hesitate in the slightest, roped up, and started up the pitch. Watching Steve climb this pitch was rather comical as he tends to be a very vocal climber. Steve was beating himself up about taking too long, but it was important to both Clay and I that Steve have the best possible experience. We were unconcerned with how long it took and more concerned with Steve getting to do everything he wanted to do, which included leading a pitch on The Big Stone.
The one comment Steve made that stuck with became a running joke throughout the climb. Steve was feeling a a little lost, unsure of where to go at one point. One of us made the comment “it’s a hook move.” To which Steve replied rather comically “Not for me!” Later in the pitch Steve started commenting how a hook he had placed, but not weighted, would never hold and that he was going to fall. Steve did fall out of his ladders, and on to the hook that he had just placed. The hook held like a champ while he twirled around on his daisies, Clay and I cackling below.
We continued up the route, Clay and I taking over the leading while Steve focused on the other vital tasks during the ascent. Clay did pitch 2 and I carried on with pitch 3. I thought back to when Jon and I climbed Lurking Fear. It felt like it had been years, but it was only a mere 7 months ago. As I climbed pitch 3 I tried to talk Clay through how he would need to use the gear I left behind to back aid a traversing section below the window pane flake. Clay doing normal Clay things ultimately took the last piece out and just went for a swing out of the roof as opposed to back aiding it. I wasn’t terribly surprised.
Clay and I continued to swing leads as I did pitch 4, Clay 5, and I did 6. I remembered pitch 6 as being one of the most aesthetic on the route, having watched Jon climb it last fall. As I climbed up, I thought back to how terrible I was at aid then, and how much I’ve progressed since. Nearly top stepping every single move I felt like I cruised through the pitches that I once found so daunting. It was very satisfying to recognize that progression and to see all my hard work paying off.
The top of Pitch 6 was our intended goal for the night. It would be a hanging belay, and I knew that belay had more bolts than most on the route. This would allow us to better organize our sleeping situation to make things as comfortable as possible. Clay was dreading the hanging belay, but it all worked out. Clay and Steve positioned their pods next to one another. They didn’t set it up perfectly, and Steve’s pod ended up making a V leading to a night of slight discomfort for him. I lowered a rope from the belay and anchored my ledge into a knot several feet below theirs. Steve was continually anxious about when, where, and how he would pee on the wall. Once I was below him, Steve had made up his mind he would not be able to pee that night, resigning to turning his nalgene into a pee bottle. I urged him to pee off the ledge, but he was concerned that he would pee on me. Eventually he did pee off the ledge, and to be completely honest I did catch a little spray. That’s just how it goes on the Big Walls.
I was amazed at how easily the Pod set up and how damn comfy it was. It was terrible for sitting in or hanging out on, but for sleeping it was prime. It was probably the best night of sleep I’ve ever had on a big wall.
Day 2
Our goal for Day 2 was to make it to the top of pitch 11 and rappel to a ledge straight below at what’s called pitch 9.5. The group below us had showed up and taken all their gear and descended back to the valley. I’m not sure if they looked up, saw all the groups, and opted not to go, or if maybe they had left their gear there after previously rappelling the route. Regardless it was nice to know that we were not going to have to share that bivy ledge with anyone, as it was only just big enough for the three of us.
The day started out with a fantastic bolt/hook traverse straight right that I previously belayed Jon on . This was one of the pitches I was excited to lead and was glad when Clay gave it to me. Clay took over for the free climbing/cam jugging on pitch 8 and 9, and I took the lead back for the aid cruxes of the route, pitch 10 and 11. I was very excited to get these pitches as well as Jon had climbed then the first time.
Topos call pitch 11 the crux, which it certainly is when considered from the perspective of the most dangerous possible fall. Pitch 10 has what I would consider the hardest sequence though. The last roof on Pitch 10, just before the anchor, calls for you to place a camhook in a perfect slot and top step off that to reach a bolt above. I found this sequence very satisfying and exciting, but not overly difficult. Again, I thought back to how C2+ would have scared me a mere 6 months ago, but now it felt rather cruiser. Pitch 11 I found to be quite straight forward and simple. That being said, I did rip the first piece off the belay while testing it, much to the surprise of my comrades.
Steve held his own all day, belaying, jugging, cleaning, stacking ropes, and helping to haul. Steve was constantly looking for work and made our lives so much easier on the wall. Having someone to talk to and bullshit with while belaying was a huge help as well. This was my first time climbing in a group of 3, and I think it was one of the best big wall experiences I’ve ever had. Typically, about 30 minutes into a belay you start to get bored and wonder what is taking your parter so long. With that third person there I found time flying by as we conversed, laughed, and bonded together. I was having an absolute blast.
We got down to our bivy ledge and set ourselves up for the night. Steve had a hard time getting comfortable in his ledge, mostly due to the fact that he brought a sleeping bag that was not wide enough for his burly frame, but once he did he said that he actually slept pretty well. Again, I slept amazingly and was exceptionally comfy on my G7 Pod.
Day 3
We awoke to brutally cold conditions on day 3. What happened to warm and sunny California climbing? After breaking down camp we jugged back up to our high point, just below pitch 12. I tried to get Clay to take the lead, but he wasn’t having it. I wasn’t too upset, as it was my favorite pitch from my previous ascent. Luckily, we found ourselves in a nook of the wall that was sheltered from the wind, making the cold more bearable as we waited for the temps to rise and the sun to show itself. The pitch itself traverses straight left on camhooks, fixed pieces, cams, and hooks, culminating in an awesome move that requires to top step off a bolt and place a blind hook. The first time I did this it was terrifying, but having the previous knowledge that the hook was absolutely bomber, I couldn’t keep from grinning ear to ear as I did this pitch.
It was totally awesome watching the crew work, flowing through belay transition so smoothly, watching Clay navigate the lowerouts like a pro, and seeing Steve jug up and help haul. Everything was going as perfectly as I could have imagined it ever would have for our group of 3.
Clay took the lead on pitch 13, which starts with a short aid corner and then turns into a free climbing romp. The second move off the belay had a fixed nut in place. Clay looked up at it and thought that it didn’t look the best, but that it must be good if the last group couldn’t get it out. Clay clipped in, stood on the ladders, and immediately ripped the piece out of the crack. Clay went for a tumble, taking what would have been a factor 2 anchor fall right into the arms of Steve and I. It ended well and was pretty funny. I made Clay promise to do at least one camhook move, just to experience it, which he did. I’m going to turn him into an aid climber yet.
Pitch 14 was mine and another one I was looking forward to but didn’t find it as awesome as I was hoping. It does end at a a nice ledge that Jon and I had spend a night on last fall. It was there that Steve got to experience his first big wall poop, see below for the picture if you’re wondering how that works.
At this point the wall was becoming more wandery and adventurous, turning from splitter aid cracks to large amounts of free climbing. I took pitch 15, free climbing as much as I could, but not taking enough gear for the sections I needed to aid. I had to improvise and use 2 lobe totem placements where I would have preferred to have off set cams. I remember being amazed at Jon freeing this pitch last fall, and was even more impressed now having led it myself, far from free like he did.
Clay did pitch 16 and 17, hating pitch 17 and taking a decent sized fall while free climbing 16. Steve continued to shine in his roll and it was clear to see that he was having an absolute blast. Watching Steve have this experience, climbing a big wall with one of his sons, is something I will treasure for the rest of my life.
At the top of pitch 17 is a gigantic ledge called “Thanksgiving Ledge” where we would bivy in a cave for the night. We knew that the temperatures were going to drop even more, and that we were looking at storms coming in for the next 2 days. We didn’t have time to get to the summit before nightfall, and so a decision was made to stay in Thanksgiving Ledge for the next few days to wait out the storm. Due to the lower temps we had plenty of water, and we also had a lot of extra food. I knew we would get bored, but the experience of spending several days on Thanksgiving Ledge would be something to look back fondly on. I also was not super stoked on hiking out in miserable conditions as I had done several times in the past. I wanted a nice sunny day with blue skies to do the East Ledges Descent this time.
Day 4
I woke up to the sound of Clay and Steve conversing about how it was not as cold as the previous day, the weather looked good, and we should go down right now. I was growing annoyed because I knew that the weather may look good now, but that it would take us several hours to get to the top, and get down, and that things were going to change in that time. It was pretty obvious that Clay was dead set on going down, not wanting to spend 2 days on Thanksgiving Ledge with nothing to do. I made it clear that I disagreed with the decision, but when Steve said it sounded crazy to stay up there for 2 days, I felt like the decision had been made. What sounded crazy to me was the thought of leaving good shelter and putting ourselves in position to get shallacked by mother nature on the summit. I was not a happy camper.
I got up and out of my sleeping bag and grumpily helped pack up, moving the bags from the cave to the base of the next pitch, several hundred feet to the right. Clay and Steve went and got working on the pitch itself. Clay missed the belay for pitch 18 and ended up combing the two, falling a little short of the bolted anchor and building one out of cams. I was dreading the weather that was to come, and was so frustrated that we were putting ourselves in this position.
I got to Clay with the bags after a rather annoying adventure in a chimney with the haul bag. The route was technically over at this point, but there was still several hundred feet of slabs to navigate with heavy haul bags. We continued hauling for several more pitches and the weather finally came in. We were so high that instead of the forecasted rain for Yosemite Village, we instead got snow, which came down in odd pellets. It was definitely not warmer than it was yesterday Clay.
The snow was a blessing in disguise as it kept us from actually getting too wet, and while the slabs did get a little wet, they weren’t completely soaked. After an hour or two we finally made our way to the summit of the route and began our long descent. The weather let up once we hit the top, and stayed away until we made it back to the ground. While, I still wholeheartedly think the decision to leave Thanksgiving Ledge was a poor decision, it ended up working out and I’m glad that decision was made. We put ourselves in a bad position and gambled with fate a little bit, but we got lucky and made it down for some delicious pizza in Curry Village.
Seeing Steve on top of El Capitan with Clay was a dream come true. After having made that promise to Steve, nearly 2 years ago, this was something I was both excited and nervous for. I had never failed on El Cap before, and I certainly didn’t want to let Steve down. Watching Steve work and go through all the elements of the climb was so amazing to see. He led a pitch on the Big Stone, cleaned quickly, did lower outs (something we practiced endlessly), space hauled, belayed, pooped in a wag bag, slept at a hanging bivy, slept on a natural ledge. It was just such a success and I was beyond thrilled at the way it turned out. Of course there was that missing element of Camy and Perry that weighed heavily on all of our minds. How much more amazing it would have been to have the whole crew up there, in one piece, standing on the summit together. I wish that’s how it would have ended up. I am excited for the day I am on top with those 2 and looking back remembering the journey it took for them to realize that goal.
Big Wall T-Dawg 