The use of a fast lens and shallow depth of field to isolate the characters really helps. Brilliant.
I’m curious about the printing process: it’s very fast, low resolution monochrome, and on thin paper. It would be fun to have a printer like that to make wrapping paper.
Luca D’Onofrio shows us how to make various kinds of pasta. Absolutely incredible, not just his skill, but how well this piece is produced. Notice the video overlays.
Yes, it’s like watching This Old House and knowing you probably won’t be able to use tools like that and they make everything look easy, but, this definitely makes me want to get into pasta making to go along with my bread making.
[via The Kid Should See This]
Here’s some more discussion of the Facebook/ Cambridge Analytica scandal I’ve read in the past few days that I think adds to our understanding of it.
I’m posting these links less as political commentary on the Trump campaign and the Mercers and Bannon’s underwriting this data scrape, more for those of you reading who are Facebook users and/or serious social networkers who are trying to wrap your heads around the significance of what’s happened here.
Alvin Chang at VOX:The Facebook and Cambridge Analytica scandal, explained with a simple diagram.
Adrian Chen, Nathan Heller, Andrew Marantz, and Anna Weiner (at The New Yorker): Discussion: How to Fix Facebook.
No doubt you know all about this and other Facebook data scrapes and breaches by now but this cartoon explanation, by Eleri Harris and Andy Warner at The Nib is a useful explainer.
Note: I had an early Facebook account but dumped it after a year as I didn’t particularly like the Facebook design and found it less than useful. When Facebook bought Instagram I dumped that too. To me, there’s something questionable about social tools that attempt to pull people in by appealing to their desire to become more popular. Yes, I realize that Facebook and Instagram are more than that, but these (popularity) tools are deeply engrained in their designs. What people will do to become and remain popular is bothersome to me. Flickr does this and I ranted about it a number of years ago: Flickr Explore.
Of course, WordPress (this site) does this as well… Sigh.
Amazing. I’d have thought that much of this was done digitally but in fact, actual walls move. Amazing.
Here’s the ad again, for those who missed it.
“Annie Onishi, general surgery resident at Columbia University, takes a look at emergency room and operating room scenes from a variety of television shows and movies and breaks down how accurate they really are. Would the adrenaline scene from Pulp Fiction actually play out that way? Is all that medical jargon we hear in shows like Grey’s Anatomy and House true-to-life? Is removing a bullet really a cure-all for a gunshot wound?”
She did this in conjunction with WIRED magazine.
This is brilliant, very well done. I was hoping she’d comment on the William Hurt movie, The Doctor (operating room music, among other things) and the Harrison Ford movie The Fugitive where there’s behind the scenes fraud going on to inflate the effects of a drug.
A brilliant video on how illuminated manuscripts were and are still made.
An illuminated manuscript is a book written and decorated completely by hand. Illuminated manuscripts were among the most precious objects produced in the Middle Ages and the early Renaissance, primarily in monasteries and courts. Society’s rulers–emperors, kings, dukes, cardinals, and bishops–commissioned the most splendid manuscripts.
[via The Loop]
This post is part three of a three part story: Thinking about the Lost Arrow Spire (1977), Climbing the West Face of Monkey Face (May, 1979, and this post which takes place in July, 1979. If you missed the first or second, I recommend reading them first before reading this one. The images posted here were shot with an Olympus XA (film) camera on cheap movie reversal film. A number of years ago I realized that the slides were in bad shape so I had them professionally scanned. The original images weren’t great and years of dust and rough handling did them no good. But, they do help tell these stories so I use them without much cleanup. Doing a search on Flickr for lost arrow spire Yosemite or a Google image search or a youTube search will give you many more modern and clearer images and videos although of course, not of our time there in the 1970’s.
I wish I had more pictures of this climb but in fact, when looking at the slides on a light table only about half of them were scannable, the rest had faded terribly or were so damaged as to not be useable.
The other interesting piece about all of this is that at this point in my life, over forty years after doing this climb I didn’t remember many details until I looked at the images. Having the images, even less than wonderful images, helps bring back the memories. In fact, these images warp time and allow travel through a wormhole to an experience that happened a long time ago. In all seriousness, I get a bit creeped out (scared) thinking about various parts of this climb when I look at the images and think back. That’s powerful.
Not all photographs have to be works of art to help tell stories. Those of you reading this who consider yourself photographers need to remember that. Snapshots are useful and important as well as images that might be framed and put on a wall. This is one of the many reasons point and shoot and smartphone cameras are so important: you always have them with you and they’re easy to use to take a picture.
Both Faye Nakamura (my then girlfriend and climbing partner) and I were both potters (ceramic artists) at the time of this climb. Faye was to go on to become a well known and successful artist in the Pacific Northwest, I was to go on to other things.
Looking up at Yosemite Point (right prow) and the Lost Arrow Spire from Yosemite Village. Yosemite Falls (the highest waterfall in the valley) is just left of the left edge of this frame.
When we first decided to do this climb (1977) we’d hiked up to Yosemite Point with day packs, lunch and water. To actually do the climb, we’d need to do the same hike with both camping and climbing gear. Because we were going to fix ropes (leave them in place) from the rim to the notch (between the cliff and the spire) we needed four ropes: two to fix, and two to do the climb (a lead rope and an extra rope for the long rappels (two ropes tied together).
And, given that this climb had been done initially with pitons and the main crack was pretty messed up from larger and larger pitons being pounded in and removed, we’d need to bring a variety of protection, including some pitons and hammers (one to put pitons in, one to remove them).
Richard (me) sorting gear for the hike and climb: stove and white gas, some pitons on the ground beside me, knee pads (we didn’t use them), hooks (under knee pads) for extreme aiding, large chocks, two hammers, stoppers, ascenders and a lot more not shown. It was a load.
The hike up the Falls Trail is a real slog: 2000 feet of climb and many switchbacks. When the falls are running one can get a bit wet in places; the falls were dry when we did this. We left the valley mid morning and were up at the bridge across Yosemite Creek (which forms the falls) by about 2:00 pm.
Richard (me) resting and eating beside Yosemite Creek which isn’t running. Note the packs, they were extremely heavy.
The creek was inviting and there were other folks swimming there so we figured it was early enough and only a short walk east along the rim to Yosemite Point so we decided to cool off.
Richard (me) bouldering to the edge of the pool on Yosemite Creek.
The water was cold as I remember but we were hot.
Faye swimming in Yosemite Creek.
Yosemite Falls (not running). Our swimming hole is just beyond the notch.
After we were done swimming we packed up and hiked the rim trail toward Yosemite Point. It’s not far but as we approached the place we’d been at the year before it felt different: this time we were going to do the climb.
I can honestly say that during the hike up neither of us was dreading the climb but as we approached the area on the rim just above the Lost Arrow we both got the willies. There was no one there, no one on the climb, and it was getting cooler and a bit breezy.
We looked around and found a spot behind the rappel point (a lone tree) to set up camp.
Richard setting up camp on the rim above the Lost Arrow Spire. Note Sentinel across the valley. The rappel into the notch is directly behind me and that tree is the single anchor point for the rappel and the fixed rope for the return from the notch.
We’d come to Yosemite from Eugene, Oregon to spend two to three weeks climbing and this climb was one of many we’d do on this trip. Still, it was one we’d planned for a year and it had more exposure (it was higher off the ground) than anything we’d ever done. It was also probably (we didn’t know) the hardest aid climbing we’d ever done and this had me, in particular on edge.
Richard looking over the edge down at the top of the Lost Arrow Spire and the notch below. It was starting to get cold and windy (why I was wearing shorts I don’t know) and it creeped us out.
Honestly, I don’t remember if Faye and I slept much that night. I’d like to think we did being tired from the hike but we were both nervous about the climb.
The next day we got up although no doubt were in no rush to get started, had to let things warm up a bit. And, we had to sort out the gear and get the camping stuff stowed so animals wouldn’t get into it. I’m pretty sure there was no way to do that so it’s possible something ate whatever food we left behind but I don’t really remember. That was a common occurrence in Yosemite when a pack with food was left on a ledge for even a short time.
We also had to run through the logistics of the climb: fixing the ropes down to the notch, doing the climb, rappelling back down to the notch (two rappels) and climbing back up to the rim. We re-read the Roper guide description of the climb just to make sure we were fully prepared.
Lost Arrow Tip
From the 1971 edition of Climber’s Guide to Yosemite Valley by Steve Roper
Grade III, 5.5, A3. First ascent in September 1946 by Fritz Lippmann, Jack Arnold, Anton Nelson and Robin Hansen. This party gained the summit after engineering a Tyrollean traverse. The first climbing ascent was masterminded by John Salathé who, with Nelson, climbed the pinnacle on the fifth day of their route from the base. From trees 300 feet west of the railing at Yosemite Point, rappel 130 feet to a large flake. Next, rappel 115 feet into the notch. Both these ropes must be left in place for the return; the lower end of the lower rope should be secured in the notch to prevent its swinging out of reach.
From the sinister notch walk out a narrow ledge on the east face. Nail and free climb 35 feet to a good belay ledge. Climb left around a rotten corner, then nail 20 feet to Salathé Ledge, an excellent, relaxing belay site. The 3rd pitch is the crux: traverse left a few feet, nail for about 20 feet, then move left and nail up to a sling belay at the base of the “ﬂint-hard and flawless Arrow tip.” On the last pitch, use bolts and 2 pitons for aid. Two rappels (125 feet and 70 feet) lead (back) to the notch.
The nailing on this magnificent route is continually changing and challenging. Nelson, speaking of his 1946 ascent, has written: “as we further diminish the crack’s possibilities, it becomes doubtful that many others will ever climb the Lost Arrow.” By 1970 the pinnacle had been climbed over 200 times and the cracks were still getting worse. What were horizontal piton cracks in 1960 are now inch-angle cracks. The rating remains the same, but the hardware changes. A 1971 selection should include about 15 pitons: one- third horizontals and the rest angles to 2″.
When we did this climb there were no published topographical (topo) maps/charts of climbs, just verbal descriptions in guidebooks like the Roper guide above (no internet). A few years later a great book called Yosemite Climbs by George Meyers came out and it had topo drawings of all the climbs in Yosemite. It was extremely useful.
Here is the topo of the Lost Arrow Spire climb minus the pitch ratings from a newer edition of the Meyers book (I don’t have my original copy of the book anymore):
Here’s a topo map I just drew, also minus ratings but with notes on pitches and belays:
We got everything sorted and we tied the first rappel rope around the tree (this rappel point has been replaced with bolts to save the tree) and tossed it over the edge. While we were both a bit creeped out, I loaded up the extra ropes and gear and started my rappel to the notch. I had Faye belay me on a second rope (not a normal way to do a rappel) although given that I wasn’t sure exactly where the ledge I was rappelling to was, it wasn’t a bad idea. One doesn’t want to rappel off the end of a rope!
Richard rappelling over the edge into the notch with the arrow tip behind.
Why I wore shorts on this climb I will never know. Idiot! Oh well, I lived. I found the little ledge at the bottom of the rappel with its anchor bolts for the second rappel into the notch. I clipped in so Faye could take me off belay. I then uncoiled a second rope, tied it into the anchor and tossed it out and it fell to the floor of the notch.
I waited for Faye to reach me before tying the lower end of the upper rope to the anchor point. It would have been a real drag had there been enough wind when we returned here so that the end of the rope was blown out of reach. Thankfully the Roper guide route description (above) recommends this for the bottom rope, I decided to do it to both. I’m not sure we’d have thought of it otherwise.
Then we each rappelled into the notch and fixed the bottom of the second rope to some rocks there.
So far so good and while the rappels were a bit scary we’d done them without problems and we felt a bit less nervous and a bit more energized for the climb in front of us.
Richard in the notch gearing up for pitch 1 of the Lost Arrow Spire. My late parents had this picture blown up and had it on their wall. My parents lived in Los Angeles and visited Yosemite often and had taken me there as a kid (we saw the fire fall off Glacier Point). They were both in awe of my climbing and it also frightened them. The standing order was to call home at the finish of any climb that took a whole day or more.
The first pitch out of the notch follows a thin ledge around the east side of the Arrow. It’s mixed free and aid although given that you’re stepping out into 2000 feet of exposure without having acclimated by having climbed up to that point, it’s “breathtaking” and if memory serves, when possible, I used aid to stay in the comfort of my stirrups.
Leading the first pitch out of the notch on the Lost Arrow Spire. Note the hammer, slings, and all sorts of junk hanging off me.
That awkward place between free and aid climbing. There was enough exposure behind me so that I doubt I pushed the free climbing all that much. Easier on the brain to stand in stirrups.
Getting clipped into the first bolt on pitch 1.
Looking down from the top of pitch 1. The rope is fixed and Faye is coming up.
We did this climb in the big wall style we’d done the west face of Monkey Face: leader leads on belay from second, anchors rope to top of pitch, second uses ascenders to clean pitch while leader hauls pack and/or rests.
Faye cleaning pitch 1. Note the exposure below her. Also, the dark “hole” off to the right of her in the frame is the base of Upper Yosemite Falls.
Faye leading pitch 2.
The first two pitches on this route are short and relatively easy mixed free and mostly aid climbing. The protection was good and while communication was difficult around a corner, it wasn’t too bad. Had the waterfall been running communication might have been tough. These days these pitches are free climbed (leader uses the rope and protection in case of a fall but not to hang onto) but in our day it was common to aid the entire climb. We no doubt made a few easy free moves but for us, just being out on that exposed place, even with the security of slow aid climbing was quite something.
The top of the second pitch is Salathé ledge, a very nice belay ledge with plenty of room and a nice anchor point. This would be where Faye would spend the next few hours (maybe more) as I struggled up the last pitch.
When this climb was first done, climbing ropes were 150 feet long and it wasn’t possible to do pitch 3 in one go. Because of this there’s a two bolt sling belay (no ledge, you hang from your harness and stand in stirrups) about three quarters of the way up the pitch which can be used if one runs out of rope. We had two 165 foot ropes and we were pretty sure they’d make the last pitch in one go. The problem with that is that a pitch that long that goes around a corner is bound to have rope drag (the rope is tough to pull through the protection because it’s not hanging in a straight line) and I brought extra slings to extend protection to avoid this. As I was to find out, the rope drag remained terrible.
Looking down on Yosemite Village from Salathé ledge.
We took a bit of a break on Salathé ledge. It’s comfortable with a breathtaking view and frankly, I was no doubt a bit un-nerved about what I was getting into next.
Faye settling in for what was going to be a long belay.
Richard on the west end of Salathé ledge getting started on pitch 3.
Pitch 3 works its way both up and left around a corner so almost immediately there’s potential rope drag. There’s no other way to set it up; the belay bolts are on the other end of the ledge where it’s easier to sit down and wait.
Pitches like this that go around a corner not only make for rope drag, they make it difficult to communicate. Each time I’d put in a new piece of protection I’d ask Faye to give me slack so I could pull some rope up and clip it in. At times, the calls for slack were within a few minutes, at other times when things got rough it was a lot longer.
Working my way up the beginning of pitch 3.
The exposure on pitch 3 is breathtaking and while I was to go on and do many more exposed climbs in the years ahead, this was my first experience of this kind of “air” and it was really something: both scary and amazing at the same time if you can imagine that. They say once you’re up a hundred or so feet you’ll probably die if you fall off so what’a another thousand or two? It’s not the fear of falling that’s a problem, it’s the feeling of being untethered (even though you’re well tethered) and being in a very unfamiliar place. There is no doubt that the more of these big climbs I did the easier this got, including taking falls in exposed places.
Faye and I were more than ready for this climb: we had the skills and fitness to do it but the psychology of being on something like this was new to us.
Almost disappearing around the corner on pitch 3.
Looking down on the belay from the beginning of difficult climbing on pitch 3. This was the last time Faye saw me for many hours.
We don’t have pictures of the last pitch. She had the camera and frankly, I was too busy to stop and take pictures. But, since our climb lots of people have done it and I found a video that documents part of it (the goPro ran out of card space just before the top). The video below, shot in 2013 will give you a good idea of what the pitch is like: the protection is very tough. No doubt it was tougher when I did it than it was when this video was shot simply because tools have improved and the climb is done more and better documented but needless to say, it was hard when we did it, definitely A3 in places. That’s tough aid climbing and relatively dangerous in that there are numerous marginal placements in a row so if one pulls, the ones below it will most likely pull creating a zipper fall.
This is shot with a GoPro on a helmet so it can be a bit dizzying as his head moves around. Also, the didgeridoo soundtrack, well, use your discretion but I turn it down as it gets annoying after a while. The last pitch starts at about the 3.0 minute mark but the whole video is worth watching.
All of that said, this is one of the best documentation videos of what it was like for us to do that climb, especially the last pitch. They did a Tyrollean traverse to get off where we rappelled back down the route but this video will give you a good idea of both the exposure and the difficulty of protecting the last pitch.
Here’s another video, shot in 2014. I like the way they set up their Tyrollean with a big dip in it making ascending on the cliff side a lot easier. Smart. A tight clothesline is much more awkward. But, we didn’t do that when we did the climb.
We did this climb during a transition in the climbing world, from the use of pitons to protect climbs to the use of nuts, stoppers and expandable protection and other pieces of metal on wires and slings that one can wedge into cracks so as to hold falls.
In the early days, pitons were made out of soft iron and because of this, they bent and deformed when pounded into cracks. They held well, but it was difficult to take them out and if one did remove them they were usually bent up and distorted, difficult to reuse on a climb.
This meant that in order to do a long climb, one needed to either carry enough pitons for the entire thing, or, climb up a few pitches, then retreat to the ground to pick up more pitons to go higher.
Three types of pitons: on the bottom is a soft iron knife blade. I never used this one, found it on a climb in the Grand Tetons. Center: Chouinard angle piton made of chrome-molly. Top: Chouinard bong (big angle) made of bent sheet aluminum. It’s called a “bong” because of the sound it makes when pounded in. I bought the two Chouinard pitons (among many others) from Yvon Chouinard at The Great Pacific Iron Works in Ventura, California in the early days, before he sold it to Black Diamond and branched off to start Patagonia.
In the 1950’s the Yosemite climber John Salathé (who Salathé ledge is named after) made some pitons out of high-carbon chrome-vanadium steel. These pitons were extremely hard and didn’t distort when pounded into rock. This was great for climbers (for a while) in that they could climb a pitch using pitons, then the second could remove the pitons and they could be used again higher up. This made it easier to do big walls and much longer climbs in Yosemite and elsewhere. Yvon Chouinard learned how to make these pitons from Salathé and continued making and selling them as “Chouinard Equipment” part of The Great Pacific Iron Works.
The problem with hardened steel pitons is that they are so tough that when you bang them out (back and forth and wiggle them out) you break of a bit of rock with them. In time, wider pitons need to be used in the same placements and over a long time, what started out as knife blade pitons ended up 1″ angles. In other words, pitons destroyed the cracks.
By the time Faye and I got to the Lost Arrow Spire the cracks were in bad shape and tough to protect without at least a few pitons which we carried.
A Chouinard Yosemite rock hammer for placing and removing pitons and other “hammerable” protection.
Both Faye and I carried rock hammers, one to place protection, the other to knock it out.
A variety of odd placement tools we took on the Lost Arrow climb.
One of the transition tools between pitons and completely clean climbing was something called a “bashie.” Take a small block of aluminum (soft metal), drill a hole in it, pass a sling through the hole. I made my own, pictured above. They were small enough so I used parachute cord to sling them. They could just hold body weight but not much more. One did not fall on these things. Used solely for aid climbing when things got tough. I used and left at least four of these on the Lost Arrow. I doubt they lasted long but who knows? You can see some in the rock in the videos in this post.
In the early days of the transition away from pitons, climbers in the UK who climbed routes near railroad tracks would pick up stray steel nuts, pass a rope through them and use them as artificial chockstones, wedging them into cracks above constrictions such when they pulled down on the sling, the nuts would wedge tighter. I almost always carried one just to bow to the Brits and the one I carried and used on the Lost Arrow is pictured above.
The term “chock” is used for any artificial chockstone. These are also referred to as nuts.
Later Chouinard extruded aluminum in an odd hexagonal form so it was easier to wedge and torque into cracks (hexes). And, for thinner cracks he (and later many others) made smaller aluminum tapered blocks on steel cables called “stoppers” that we had many of for this climb and they’re still used to this day. Place a stopper, clip a carabiner to the loop of cable at its end, and clip a sling and another carabiner onto that and the rope through the last carabiner.
At the time we did this climb, in the mid-1970’s there were many climbs in Yosemite and elsewhere that were done completely clean, without carrying pitons or a hammer and we did many. The first one, put up by Royal Robbins was called “Nutcracker” for good reason. But, for big wall routes, pitons and hammers were carried just in case, even if they were avoided.
You’ll notice in the first video above the lead climber is using a hook creatively (torquing it rather than using it as a hook). The hooks I had (pictured above) weren’t big enough for that kind of placement but I did use the hook above in the traditional way to hook a flake and stand on it. Not for the faint of heart.
RURP pitons were made by Chouinard and while I carried the one above on the Lost Arrow, I never used it there. RURP = Realized Ultimate Reality Piton. In other words, a RURP is used almost as a last resort when the crack is so thin nothing else will work. I used the one above one time and one time only. That was enough.
Carabiners have been around a long time and are one of the most essential tools in a climber’s collection.
A carabiner allows the connection various other climbing tools. A piton is driven in, a carabiner is clipped into the hole in the end of it, and the climbing rope is clipped into that carabiner protecting the climber. A nut is placed in a crack, a carabiner is clipped to the loop in the end of its sling, and the climbing rope or another sling and carabiner is clipped into it.
On Salathé ledge, Faye tied a figure eight knot on a a loop in the end of the rope and used a carabiner to clip it into the bolt she found on that ledge (she actually used two for redundancy). When I got to the top of the Lost Arrow I used a carabiner to tie into the anchor I found there (again, two).
Every piece of protection we placed on the climb had at least two carabiners associated with it. The belays on each end had four or more carabiners used to set them up. It’s not uncommon to carry as many as fifty or more carabiners on a climb like the Lost Arrow Spire.
Two carabiners. Top: a Chouinard solid aluminum carabiner. Bottom: A Robbins hollow aluminum carabiner made by the German company Salewa. Climbers mark their gear with colored electrical tape so as not to get it mixed up when partnering. The yellow and green taped carabiner came to me from my old climbing friend Dale Allyn long after I stopped climbing and was using carabiners for arborist work. The red-taped carabiner is mine and was used on most of my climbs, including the Lost Arrow.
The two carabiners pictured above will hold the same amount of weight (they’re equally strong) but the hollow one (the one with the red tape on it) is a bit lighter. When you multiply that slight weight savings times fifty or more carabiners that savings is significant. Because of this, I bought as many of the Robbins/Salewa hollow carabiners as I could find (they were only made for a few years and tough to get). At one point I had one hundred of them but most are gone now. I still have about fifteen.
Modern carabiners that are used today are better yet: lighter, stronger, and better shaped to allow easier use with one hand under extreme pressure of hard free climbing.
Belaying and rappelling
When Faye and I started climbing we were taught a technique called a “hip belay” to hold the rope for both a leader and a follower. The hip belay uses the friction of the rope running around one’s body (hips) to hold a fall. During the time we were using this technique thank god neither of us took a big leader fall but we did get to hold falls of folks on top ropes and followers and trust me, it’s not comfortable. Couple that with the fact that we were using “Goldline” (twisted nylon) ropes back then and it wasn’t fun.
Rappelling (descending a rope or a doubled rope) was done with six carabiners with a technique called a “6 carabiner brake” and it worked just fine although took extra time to set up.
In time manufacturers started making devices dedicated to both belaying and rappelling and the two pictured below are the ones Faye and I used on the Lost Arrow.
On the left is a small belay device that one runs the rope through so it can be pinched and locked off. It works very well. On the right is a tool called a “figure 8” which one or two ropes are threaded through for rappel. It creates the necessary friction so that one can descend a rope safely without having to set up a carabiner brake. The small end of the figure 8 can also be used as a belay device, similar to the one pictured here.
As I said above, when Faye and I started climbing the least expensive rope we could find to learn how to climb at our local top-roping place was called “Goldline” which was a nylon twisted rope that was very stiff and not great for holding leader falls. Coiling it was like coiling a stiff garden hose, awkward.
There was another kind of rope around although it was more expensive: kernmantle. “kern-mantel” (core-sheath) was a great improvement over Goldline. Kernmantel ropes cover a twisted core with a woven mantle that makes both rope handling, and designing custom rope strengths possible.
In the early days of climbing when leaders climbed on hemp ropes, leaders could never fall because the rope didn’t stretch, it broke or, it broke (injured) the climber. The invention of nylon allowed ropes to stretch which for leaders, allowed falls without as much damage to the rope or the climber. However, one doesn’t want the rope to stretch under body weight (Faye or me ascending a pitch to clean it). One only wants the rope to stretch under the heavy load of a leader fall and then, not too much or the leader might hit the ground.
In our day, if a leader took three good size falls on a rope, the rope was retired. The nylon/Dacron fibers in the rope can only absorb so much stretch and then they don’t stretch anymore, they break.
Over many years rope manufacturers have designed climbing ropes that can absorb more falls and good thing because sport climbing has pushed leaders into numerous attempts on hard pitches and a lot of falling.
And, in case you think there is no place for static ropes, they’re used in both arborist work, caving and yachting. Rope stretch is something to be avoided if you’re descending and ascending a deep cave or climbing a rope to top a tree or pulling in a boom on a sailboat.
For our climb and most of the climbs we did, Faye and I used an 11mm lead rope and either a second 11mm haul/rappel rope or later, a 10mm second rope to save weight. On the Lost Arrow Faye and I had four 11mm ropes with us: two to fix to the notch, two for the climb and rappel back to the notch.
Ascenders are mechanical devices used to climb a rope. Before these devices were invented various friction knots were used to climb ropes. The most common among climbers was the prusik knot.
The idea of both the knots and mechanical devices is to easily slide the device up the rope, but through friction (the knot or a cam in the ascender) have the device lock on the rope when pulled down. With two ascenders (or friction knots), each tied into one’s harness and aid slings for one’s feet, one can climb a rope by sliding one up, putting weight on it, then sliding the other up once weight is removed from it.
Two modern ascenders, one with the rope attached, the other with the cam disengaged so it can be attached or removed from a rope.
Once weight is removed from an ascender the cam can be retracted and it can be slid down the rope, or, by retracting a safety mechanism, detached from the rope completely.
Mechanical ascenders made big wall climbing much more manageable and with the use of a pulley, one can use two ascenders to haul heavy loads up a rock face. By hanging one ascender upside down to hold on the downside of the pulley, and placing the other one on the upside of the pulley, a climber can use body weight to lift a heavy big wall bag up and the ascender on the downside will stop it from going back down.
Back to the Climb
I’m reposting an image I shot of another climber finishing pitch 3 below:
A climber finishing pitch 3 of the Lost Arrow Spire
The last fifteen or so feet of this climb is relatively easy free climbing on a smooth slab. The climber in the image above has just stepped out of his aid stirrups and is probably faced with a some rope drag because the rope is running down and around a corner.
When I was in the position the climber above is in I thought for sure I’d fall off trying to pull enough slack in the rope so I could finish the climb. And, I wasn’t sure Faye was hearing me when I yelled for slack, or if she was, maybe the reason I wasn’t getting any slack is that we were out of rope. While that climbing was relatively easy, I remember having a tough time there. Thinking about that now makes me nervous.
When I finally got to the top car horns in the valley below went off and the sound of it all, even at a distance startled me. I had no idea that folks were following us with binoculars but in fact, a lot of folks were and I was wearing a red shirt which made it easier (I hadn’t chosen the shirt for that reason).
I tied into the belay and yelled down to Faye that I was off belay so she could start up.
My guess is it took Faye an hour to get the belay cleaned up and come up the pitch with her ascenders cleaning all of my weird aid placements. She was a fast climber (faster than me), but I was no doubt cooling down after settling in on my perch at the top. Faye had our small pack with sweaters and a hat for me but I’m guessing I got pretty cold up there waiting. Again, stupid me for wearing shorts.
Once Faye reached the top and got clipped in I remember her saying that she had wondered what took me so long, but after seeing the weird protection I had to put in she got it. It was impossible to see what I was doing from Salathé ledge.
Richard on top after Faye came up behind him.
Faye took a shot of me before we rappelled back down. We didn’t stay up there long, it was getting cooler and we still had to get back down to the notch and back up our fixed ropes, which we could now see (still there, thank god) on the wall behind us.
There’s a small pothole on top and folks have put coins in it. Wish we’d had some coins to leave.
The start of the rappel off the top. Note, you can see the knot tying both ropes together and its placement means we would need to pull the orange rope to keep the knot from jamming into the anchor ring.
We needed both ropes tied together to get back to Salathé ledge. The ropes are knotted and it’s important (essential) to remember which side of the rappel anchor the knot is on so you pull the correct rope and don’t jam the knot back into the anchor. The anchor was two bolts with nylon slings running through their hangers with a steel ring on the end. We cut one of the old slings off to make room for one of our newer slings.
I might have tied a knot in the end of the doubled rope so I couldn’t rappel off the end but I don’t remember. Frankly, to this day I’m not sure what climbers do when rappelling into unknown territory. No doubt they bring ascenders with them so they can go back up if they get in trouble.
I remember taking this rappel slowly because there wasn’t a lot of rope left when I reached Salathé ledge. Once on the ledge I clipped into the anchor there and yelled to Faye to come down.
Faye took a picture of me waiting on Salathé ledge as she came down.
After Faye came down we tied one end of the pull rope into the anchor so we wouldn’t lose both ropes over the edge as they came down, and pulled the other rope through the anchor on top. There was a lot of rope drag but we did get it down.
As I remember, we were able to rappel pitch 1 and 2 together in one go as they were short. It was an awkward rappel as it spiraled around the spire back to the notch.
Using ascenders to climb the rope we’d left fixed down to the notch.
In the image above I’m climbing a rope and tied into a second rope. Faye might have been belaying me although it did no good. Had the rope I was ascending failed I’d have fallen back down to the notch. Maybe it was a mistake because we were tired, who knows?
When I got to the ledge I tied in and she used her ascenders to come up. Maybe I used the second rope to belay her, I don’t remember.
This is our last picture of this climb. Me ascending the second fixed rope back to the rim. Again, Faye is probably belaying me for no good reason.
When I got to the top I signaled for her to come up on her ascenders behind me.
As I remember, after we cleaned up our gear and got things loaded back into our packs we had just enough daylight to get back on the falls trail and head down. I don’t think we were using headlamps in those days but we had flashlights and probably made it back to our camp which was my VW bus in the dark.
I don’t have a clear memory of the rest of that trip but I’m guessing we took a day off to rest and then got back to climbing. Probably nothing as serious as the Lost Arrow but we did do a lot of great climbs in Yosemite over many years.
I posted a shorter version of this clip in my first installment but I’m posting it again because it’s one of the clearest looks at what the Lost Arrow Spire is all about. It was shot in 2017, our climb was 38 years earlier. I’ve included all of their Lost Arrow climb this time, not just the drone footage at the end (they also did the “snake dike” route on Half Dome which is the first half of their video. Rewind all the way if interested). Note the waterfall in full force. Same place we were swimming.
I love looking back at this but to be honest, it’s tough to imagine having done these things in an earlier time of my life. I know myself well and I was never a natural at any of this (in fact, I’m a polio survivor), but over many years with great instruction (thanks Bob Ashworth) I got into it and improved. While I never took it as far as some of my other climbing partners I feel good about how far I got.
I climbed for another eight years and I’ve got plenty of other stories to tell; the slides have been scanned. Stay tuned.