The Nose In A Day - El Capitan - Yosemite Valley - Yosemite National Park

The Nose. You say the Nose around any group of climbers and they instantly know what you're talking about. It's one of the most talked about and sought after routes in the world. Many people describe it as the best climb in the world and it is almost certainly the most famous climb in the world. Having now climbed it, I can't believe how long I waited to climb it because it was as good or better than everything I had ever heard.

I had long set my sights on climbing The Nose but after a couple half-hearted attempts at climbing it big wall style (like Joy did) I turned my focus to doing it in a day instead. Originally, Joy and I had made the Nose-in-a-day a goal of ours but she wavered at the thought of climbing for what we predicted would be 18 or 20 hours. This summer, Joy got fired up about doing it with her friend Sarah, which left me to climb with Steve. I've known Steve for a couple of years as a fellow teacher and climber in the Roaring Fork Valley but had never shared a rope with him outside of a few cragging pitches. Steve first brought up the notion of doing The Nose in a day and while I was confident in Steve's ability I initially questioned his experience. His first big wall was with me this summer on Washington Column, Skull Queen, and he had no experience with rope soloing or short fixing, skills that are pretty essential for climbing The Nose in a day.

While the girls prepared for and began climbing The Nose, Steve and I got to climb a number of long routes together, which gave us confidence about climbing The Nose and made us comfortable with each other. I wasn't interested in doing The Nose in some 23-hour sufferfest. I wanted to climb it reasonably quick and preferably in the daylight. Steve was in the same boat as me and so when we made a practice run to the top of Dolt Tower in just over 4 hours we were encouraged that we could do it. Our practice run was Steve's first time short fixing and rope soloing as well as doing a lower out. Even though we knew the first 11 pitches to Dolt were some of the easiest, we knew Steve would be quicker after this practie run and we figured out some ways to shave time.

El Capitan. The Nose essentially goes right up the middle of the face, from the toe of the buttress to the top.

The day before our attempt we watched the girls, Joy and Sarah, finish the final pitches of The Nose from El Cap Meadows. I secretly hoped that they would be delayed so that I could have a good night's sleep, free of any distraction. They made it down from the descent just before dark and we rushed over to Curry Village for beers and pizza at the Pizza Deck. That night I had a hard time sleeping and before I knew it, my alarm went off at 4 A.M. I quickly grabbed my stuff and began shoving some breakfast in my mouth. Just before 5 we were at the base of The Nose racking up and my nerves were still on edge. I kept telling myself that I had done a lot of big races and climbs in my lifetime and that this would be just like any other. I knew that was a lie because I had never asked myself to climb so many difficult pitches on such intimidating terrain until now.

Let me pause for a brief description of how our climbing system works. A lot of people ask how you can climb something like The Nose so fast when it takes most people 3 to 5 days, and sometimes longer. We didn't free solo anything and we didn't simul-climb anything either. What we did was called short fixing. Here's what happens: The leader leads a pitch, belayed by the second. When the leader gets to the top of the pitch he pulls up any of the remaining rope and then ties the rope to the anchor, which is called fixing, or in this case, short fixing because you've pulled up all the slack. Now the rope is secured or fixed to the anchor so the second can begin jugging or ascending the rope with metal ascenders. While the second is jugging, the leader puts himself on belay with an auto-locking belay device and begins leading the next pitch. When the second gets to the anchor, the leader is put back on belay by the second. The goal is to have both climbers moving together as much as possible, speeding things up. The leader then leads in blocks, or a number of pitches without any contact with the second. The goal of the leader is to go as long as possible in their block, with gear and fatigue being the two main things that will cause them to stop a block and transfer the lead to the second. Switching belays, both the time a climber is stopped as well as the time it takes to switch gear and such, can waste valuable time so you want to minimize how many blocks you climb something like The Nose in. Most climbers do it in 4 to 8 blocks. Now, hopefully that makes sense. Keep in mind that there are a lot of theories, practices, and beliefs that differ but our method of short fixing is widely used and for us, it is a sufficiently safe method of climbing safe. Simply put, we're not willing to take some of the risks other climbers are willing to take so that's why we used this style.

Back to the story:

At 5:04, I stepped off the ground and ran up the first pitch, a cruiser 5.7 fingercrack called Pine Line. I short fixed the line for Steve and started up the 4th class and into the 5.10 finger and hand crack of the true 1st pitch (Pine Line being a variation). Above I tried to move smoothly and confidently. When I fixed the rope at the anchor for the 1st pitch belay I thought briefly about the fall I had taken on our practice run two days earlier. I was rushing too hard on that try and stupidly pulled outward on a poorly placed cam, taking a 20-foot, headfirst fall onto a #4 brass offset nut. This time I tried to slow down and climb more carefully, more worried about lost time in a fall than any injury from a fall.

I cruised past the section of my earlier fall and worked quickly through the next two pitches. On our practice run, we had climbed to Sickle Ledge, the top of the 4th pitch, in 1 hour 10 minutes. It's an area that is important to make good time on because it's technically some of the most difficult climbing on the route, some awkward 5.10 and 5.11 free climbing that can be tricky to aid. When I clipped the anchor on Sickle I looked at my watch and it was 6:01. Sweet, I thought, we had just shaved 13 minutes off our previous time.

I headed up the 4th class on the start of the 5th pitch where I had to stop and wait for Steve to get to the anchor. It was then that I looked and saw two climbers coming up behind us, moving fast. I had heard their voices earlier but didn't expect to see them so soon. I started to calculate when they might catch us and pass us, figuring it would be at least a few pitches, probably several pitches. Then, I watched as the leader short fixed the rope and took off on the next pitch, placing no gear with a 100-foot loop of slack out, basically free soloing the pitch. Their leader caught up to Steve at Sickle. Turns out they were two Australian guys, one who had been trying to free the Zodiac, a 5.14 on El Cap. Later we would hear that they climbed to Sickle in 26 minutes and would top out in under 7 hours. When we heard how hard they climbed, we didn't feel so bad about getting passed so quickly.

Above Sickle, I climbed into the base of the Stoveleg Cracks, so named because the first ascent party sawed the legs off stoves to use as pitons in the cracks. Originally, my intention was to climb to the base of the Stovelegs and then switch and have Steve take the next block. When I got there, I realized I still had plenty of gear left and I knew the 5.8 hand jams of the Stovelegs would feel comfortable, so off I went, to the top of the 9th pitch where I finally stopped.

Steve comes up behind me in the Stoveleg Cracks.

Steve quickly got to my belay and we made a quick and efficient belay change, one of the keys to climbing a big route fast. Steve set off towards Dolt Tower. Undoubtedly, we were anxious to see our time to know if we had saved any time or not. When I got to Dolt, Steve was loading up on water from jugs that people had left there and was preparing to climb. I looked at my watch and was shocked to see that we had climbed the first 11 pitches in under 3 hours. We had shaved over an hour off our practice time. We tried to contain our excitement because we knew the hardest part, technically and physically, was still ahead. Steve climbed the three pitches to El Cap Tower where he stopped to switch belays at the base of the Texas Flake.

I paused for a moment, a pitch or two below Dolt Tower to snap this image of my shadow cast by the first rays of early morning sun on the Captain.

There are a number of notable and obvious features on The Nose and Texas Flake is one of those, easily seen from El Cap Meadows, appearing as an image of Texas on its side. I grabbed the gear from Steve that I thought I would need for my short block before taking a sip from stashed water. I was so worried about rope drag in Texas Flake that I didn't place any until I got to the base of the flake where I placed a #4 offset which Steve said felt out later anyway. I squirmed my way into the massive flake before realizing that I would want my pack off. Hence, I hung everything from my harness and started to wiggle inside. At first, it was easy as the chimney was a good size for me and there were plenty of holds on the two opposing faces. Higher and higher I went before I came to the one piece of protection in the flake, a bolt comically referred to as the "chicken" bolt. I paused at this bolt for a moment and contemplated the ever-widening chimney I was in. The walls appeared to be getting smoother and slicker and I momentarily second-guessed our plan for me to skip the bolt so that I could flick the rope around the outside of the chimney. I usually pride myself on the ability to climb chimneys effectively and efficiently but the Texas Flake, in my opinion, is worth every bit of that 5.8 rating. When you finally reach the top of the flake, the span between the flake and the wall is about 3 feet. There, you mantle on to the top of the flake and then reach across to the face where you clip the anchors. As you performed this final maneuver I couldn't help but look down into the gaping maw of this dark chimney to contemplate where my mangled body would end up if I fell. At the top of the flake, I flicked the rope outside the chimney so that Steve wouldn't even have to look into its ominous realms.

Here are some great photos that illustrate short fixing. The photo on the left shows Steve jugging up the Texas Flake while I am already near the top of the bolt ladder, where I will short fix again for Steve. From there I led out again while Steve jugged. In the picture on the right, Steve is belaying me while I climb the Boot Flake.

A short bolt ladder spans the distance between Texas Flake and Boot Flake. We made quick work of this before slowing down on the Boot Flake. I am normally have a strong head but on the Boot Flake I slowed down because I really didn't want to blow it. I climbed the pitch, cleaning every piece as I went so that Steve could do the infamous King Swing from his position at the top of the bolt ladder, rather than climbing up the Boot Flake and then lowering down. Halfway up the Boot I fought with a stuck #2 Camalot for 5 minutes, wasting precious time. I was just about to leave it when I finally got it out. I was afraid we might have needed it for later if I left it without a fight.

Below the Boot Flake is the famous and storied King Swing. We viewed this as one of the technical cruxes of the route. You can lose a lot of time here if you screw up or are inefficient. Add to that the fact that Steve had never done a pendulum before and he was about to do one of, if not the biggest pendulums around. Joy and Sarah had some difficulty here, with Joy taking 45 minutes just to make the swing. Our strategy here, executed flawlessly, had me anchor myself in with my daisy chains and pull the slack rope in. Instead of fixing the rope, like I normally would, I put Steve on belay off the anchor with my GriGri. Then, he released himself from his anchor to take the ride of his life. He took a short run to "test it out" and then stuck it on his 2nd full-effort run across the wall. When I say run, I mean run. You literally have to run sideways across the wall. Then, you grab some holds, only to have to climb another 5-10 feet to a crack where you can climb up and anchor yourself. Once Steve reached that spot, he tied off the rope and I clipped our rope to the Boot anchor with a biner and lowered myself down to Steve, much like cleaning a sport route. The only thing took just a few minutes. It was pretty sweet.

Steve executes the King Swing.

The view from above of Steve sticking the King Swing.

There's a lot of air under your heels.I rap from Boot to Steve's position.

Together, Steve grabbed whatever gear I had and made off on a great block of climbing. Here, Steve effectively climbed from the top of pitch 16, Eagle's Ledge, to the top of pitch 21, which is one pitch below the Great Roof. This was a great section for Steve to lead because it took advantage of his great free climbing skill, including great work through the Lyn Hill traverse, which goes at 5.10 AO. It felt like we made great time here and this section went without incident.

Above: Climbing through the Gray Bands. L: Pitch 17. M: Steve climbs the Lyn Hill traverse on pitch 19. R: Pitch 20, one pitch below Camp IV. The pink rope was accidentally dropped by a party the previous day when they were finishing the last pitch. We thought it must have been stuck and later we half-wished we would have cleaned it up and taken it off.

Climbing below the Great Roof on pitch 21.

When Steve finished his block we were directly beneath the Great Roof and it was only about noon. Now I started to feel like we had it in the bag and I think Steve did too but we didn't say anything to each other. We both knew that a stuck rope or fatigue could make us finish in the dark.

The Great Roof is one of the most noticeable and famous features on The Nose. It's one of the two major free climbing cruxes on The Nose and for years it was believed that Lyn Hill was able to climb it only because of her small fingers and diminutive stature. While we weren't free climbing, it is one of the more difficult pitches on The Nose. I led up the beautiful, clean, right-facing dihedral, switching to aid rather quickly as the crack steepened and narrowed. Once properly underneath the roof, I clipped a number of fixed pieces on the left side of the roof so Steve could lower off of one of those because I wanted to back clean the entire roof. Once under the roof, I almost backed down from the plan because the exposure and commitment is a little intimidating. Luckily, there is a number of fixed pieces which made it easy to move through quickly. A 5.7 free move exits you from the roof and puts you at an outstanding, exposed stance at the base of the Pancake Flake. From here, the exposure really kicks in. I quickly short-fixed and continued up the Pancake Flake, savoring its beauty and elegance. The features are so cool, did I mention it might be the best rock climb ever?!

Climbing the Great Roof, one of the most classic features on El Capitan.

Here I am leading up the Pancake Flake on rope solo while Steve finishes cleaning and jugging the Great Roof.

Steve finishes jugging the Great Roof.

Above the Great Roof, I definitely started to feel like we were in control. I focused on climbing smoothly, efficiently and safely, yet still relatively fast. The Pancake Flake was great climbing and above, pitch 24, is a great corner which went easily with a mix of free and aid.

Pitch 25, the Glowering Spot, is another classic pitch on The Nose. The name comes from the first ascent when Warren Harding had a pin pop out on him and hit him in the head. His partners found him "glowering" at the pin when they looked up. It's a marvelous pitch with a clean dihedral and a nice crack to the left, giving you many options. I short-fixed that pitch and continued towards Camp VI, the top of pitch 26. On this pitch, where I was free climbing a lot, I started to feel the wear and tear of the day. My feet hurt, I was sweating hard, and I was pretty thirsty. When I finally pulled myself onto the massive ledge at Camp VI I fixed the line and pulled my shoes off, ready for a break. I knew I had enough gear to keep going but a look at my watch and a little reflection about my energy level told me it was time to switch blocks.

L: Pitch 24 below Camp V. R: The Glowering Sot, pitch 25.

The Glowering Spot. This is one of my favorite pictures because of the great features that are shown and the scale that is depicted. El Cap is a big chunk of stone. It makes me feel so small looking at this picture.

When Steve arrived at Camp VI I told him of my plan. At first he offered to let me rest and retake the lead but I won out and insisted that he take a turn. I knew we were both tired but I wasn't worried if Steve took a little longer on the C2 moves of pitch 27, the Changing Corners. Steve climbed excellently up to the Changing Corners and made quick work of the aid climbing, just as if he had been aid climbing his whole life (before The Nose he had only aided a handful of pitches). The Changing Corners is the technical crux of The Nose free climb and it was pretty amazing to see in person. There's not a whole lot to hold on to there. Actually, it didn't look like there was anything to hold onto for a while.

L: Steve climbs up to Camp VI. R: The Changing Corners pitch.

Pitch 28 and ever so close to the top.

Steve led pitch 27 and 28 where he stopped, afraid of our time running out and tired from the long day. I quickly led up pitch 29, groveling my way through the 5.6 trough in the middle of the pitch. The belay at the top of pitch 29 is a great, exposed stance. You can look down the entire Nose route. It simultaneously makes the lower part of the route look slabby and easy while also making it look like a long, long ways away (over 2,500 feet vertical, in fact).

I short fixed the pitch and started leading a nice 5.10 crack, much of which I was able to free climb, making things go quick. Things were moving well so when Steve reached the belay and said I was on belay I immediately said I was off, having already finished pitch 30. I quickly short fixed and started up the final pitch, a long bolt ladder to the top. Originally we had intended on simul-aiding this final bolt ladder but it seemed that I was already almost halfway up the pitch when Steve reached the belay. We quickly decided that although slower, it would probably be safer and easier to just finish the pitch and fix for jugging. And, that's what I did. I was so psyched to reach the final two bolts, where I anchored myself and short fixed. With the remaining rope I was able to reach the pine tree, the symbolic finish to The Nose. It felt great to take my pack off and air out my tired feet while I waited for Steve.

He reached the top 7:56, for a total time of 14 hours, 52 minutes, a far cry from the record but a little faster than we thought we could do. We were so psyched to have just finished in the dark, to have climbed the route without major incident and to have felt relatively comfortable while doing it.

Steve jugs the final few feet to the top of El Capitan.

We didn't loiter too long on top, just enough to rerack and coil the rope, grab a few swigs of water and lace up the approach shoes. Joy had warned us to get to the descent rappels before dark so off we went.

Summit shouts! We are psyched!

The descent went smoothly and the monotonous, tired pounding down the final trail felt like the most grueling part of the day. Gradually the trail flattened out and we were greeted by shouts of encouragement from Sarah and Joy, waiting with cold beers in hand at the parking lot. It was about 9:30, so we raced off to the Pizza Deck to grab some pizza before its 10:00 closing.

The Nose in a day was my most memorable day of climbing ever. Nothing I've done comes close to it and I can't wait to do it again. It's a great climb and the day, with a good friend in a spectacular place, will be hard to top. On the way down, my mind strayed off to some thoughts that I've never had before. On every climb I've done I can't help but think about what's next - whether that's because the climb I just did was great training or whether I learned something that I can use for a future climb. Granted, I always love reminiscing about the last climb but I'm always amped up about what's next. This time, I couldn't think about anything that was next. It was as if The Nose in a day is as good as it gets. How can you top that? It was and remains a glorious feeling for me because climbing can seem like a never-ending, selfish pursuit which has a hollow feel to it in the end. When all you can do is think about the next climb, how do you savor what you've experienced as well as the other things in life like family and friends? I'm not done climbing but I do have a new and exciting perspective on life and climbing from my day on El Capitan.