I had the choice of working another year cleaning toilets at Hodgdon Meadows and Crane Flat or being a firefighter on Sierra National Forest. The Ascent article, "West Side Story" was in my mind, so I asked someone who had driven out there if there really was all that rock out there. They described the view from Mile High Curve and that sealed the deal. It is a long story, but because I'm a vegetarian, I almost got stuck in North Fork, instead of the Minarets Work Station, but I finally did get assigned to the MWS.
Every day off I would drive or go 4 wheelin' (ha) the logging roads in my blue '68 VW squareback trying to figure out how to get close to various domes from Shuteye to the Balls. The lone other climber on the staff, Jeff, was a gymnast too, so that seemed promising in terms of getting a partner. After months I finally convinced him to go to an outcrop right by the road that turned out to have lousy rock. Later my girlfriend and her friend came up and we did a 5.6 slab that I don't know if I could find again ("Gerri's delight"), tried something in the center of Chiquito Dome that turned out to have been done before and was harder than they wanted to do. We turned back at some fixed pitons. We did (note reference to Midsummer Night's Dream) Nick Bottom (5.6) on Jackass Rock, which was fun, but not special. Gerri and Jan then went back to their summer of backpacking, the "Grand Trek".
With Jeff I did Puck on Jackass Rock that had a great section of crack climbing on the first pitch at 5.9+ that someone on-line later rated 5.10. But that was it for Jeff, one good climb and he was done. I wasn't sure if at dusk, I almost grabbed a rattlesnake as we were finishing up or maybe it was just a branch by the ground, but I no longer had a partner.
I had heard that one could solo with jumars as long as one backed it up with knots in the rope periodically. I tried to lead a climb like that with loop after loop of rope dangling below me. It was hopeless, so I went around back and top-roped what turned out to be a 5.10 crack on poor quality rock. I never reported it because of the decomposing rock, but it may have been at what was later called the Letters to Paul area.
One day I climbed a huge pine tree using sketchy forest service tree climbing equipment and rapped back down. I was getting frustrated by a lack of climbing with all the granite around, so that day (or the next?) I went out to West Fuller Butte and started up a fourth class pitch, un-roped, to the base of a chimney. So I anchored at the bottom and climbed unprotected, with some 5.8 about 70-80' up the chimney, where it pinched off to a finger crack. In hindsight, a bolt in the chimney would be good. I placed the first protection gear in before I came completely out of the chimney and then finished up the second half of the pitch with some protection. I had abandoned the idea of soloing with jumars and decided I would only use figure eight knots tied in periodically. I'd give myself about 15' of slack, climb until the rope was almost tight, tie in again with 15' of slack and untie the first knot. The climb changed to face climbing for the second pitch and I kept giving myself more and more slack. At about 60' out from the belay with no other gear in besides the belay, I was looking at a 5.8 or 5. 9 face move. At this point, I really regretted saving weight by not bringing a bolt kit and wondered why it was that from the ground it looked like a much, much shorter and easier section of face climbing. After a fair while of looking and pondering, discretion suggested a retreat. It was delicate slow business down-climbing and retying they knots as I went. I rapped off the belay, and the next day came back and on the face pitch, chipped away at the rock to place my first bolt half way to the crux and my second-ever bolt before the move. With the bolt close by the move seemed casual, though I went back and forth for the guidebook about giving it a 5.8 or 5.9. I finished up the second and third pitches with no more bolts, but with good gear anchors. It was spooky that Gerri, 200 miles away, had dreamt of me being nervous in high places that the night I climbed the tree with bad gear and down climbed 60' of face climbing. The climb was "Easy Wind" after the song with the lyrics, "Chippin up rocks for the Great Highway". Well, I've rambled on too long...
S. McCabe
