Sentinel Rock, Steck-Salathé Route
By: Gary Clark | Climbers: Gary & Lynn Clark |Trip Dates: June, 1992- October, 1998
Photo: Gary Clark
® The author(s) and naclassics.com | 
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Sentinel Rock, Steck-Salathé Route By: Gary Clark | Climbers: Gary & Lynn Clark |Trip Dates: June, 1992- October, 1998 |
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Photo: Gary Clark |
® The author(s) and naclassics.com | |
| Fifty Classic Approaches This was our third attempt on this infamous (in my mind, at least) "Fifty Classics" route on Sentinel Rock in Yosemite Valley. In 1992, we went expecting to be able to climb it in alpine style - carry packs with light bivouac gear in case needed, and drop them on a sling while climbing the chimneys. I made exactly one-half pitch in this fashion before I was thoroughly trashed physically and psychologically. Realizing that a 5.8 chimney had just made a fool of me, I looked at the topo and decided I had blown the strategy - there were many much harder chimneys to come! Next time, I'd either need to climb it in a day, or haul the bags. Back home, I got advice from people who had done the route; most thought that a day trip was the only way to go. Importantly, I met Bruce Bindner through the internet, who had the definitive topo and the best beta for the route, having climbed it several times. Late June, 1996: We bivouac at the base of the route on the longest day of the year, which coincided with a full moon. By starting at first light, we figured our chances of getting up it in a day were maximized. The day began at around 90 degrees and got hotter. By the top of the 6th pitch, I was approaching heat stroke. To worsen the situation, one of our collapsible water bottles had ruptured, so we were (1) exhausted; (2) hot; (3) almost out of water; (4) late in the afternoon; and (5) less than half-way up the route. Time to reconsider our strategy. Late Oct. 1998: This time we would return to a two-day climb plan, but make the hauling tolerable by bringing three long skinny haul bags which I constructed myself, the better to make it up the chimneys without hanging up. These were to be attached each to the higher so they'd snake up the climb like a chain of link sausages. We left a comfy king-sized bed in El Portal in the early a.m., and drove up to the base of the '4-Mile Trail', by now quite familiar. Beginning the hike at first light, we completed the 4th-class approach to begin pitch 1 around 9:30a. The pitches flowed past slowly but were not substantially easier than before. This is a tough climb, and I admit to not enjoying much of it, other than realizing we were doing better at getting up some of the pitches with less energy and were not wasting any time with off-route excursions. The Wilson Overhang on pitch 4 went dramatically smoother. Since I had freed it last time, I didn't feel too guilty about pulling on a few pieces to conserve energy. The hauling was going well. The bags hung a couple of times but were easily freed. A Wall-Hauler was welcome relief from the arm hauling I did last time of our single bag. Pitch 6, a 5.8+ offwidth, went much better through a judicious application of #4 Camalots with slings attached. Salathe would be rolling in his grave to observe this, since the best he had was his hand-forged pitons, but he would approve my style, since he considered free climbing to be "hiking." I had struggled long and hard on this pitch last time. I hoped the style police weren't monitoring all this through binoculars, or we'd certainly have a citation on the windshield when we got down. Lynn resorted to jugging this pitch and portions of others. The only easy pitch of the day was the 7th and final, which took us to the bivouac site at the top of the Flying Buttress. This eagerly awaited site (see postscript) turned out to be a big disappointment, and we set to improving it as dusk turned quickly to dark. Major rock fall (perhaps during earthquakes) is a problem on this route, as evidenced by the state of the bivouac site. It was covered with boulders, some of which we could move and some we couldn't. In about two hours of hard labor we cleared and leveled a site that was big enough for one person in a fetal position. We both settled onto this and suffered through the long October night, the highlight of which was the sudden arrival of a BIG millipede on the bridge of my nose from an unknown distance above. He may have survived that part of the fall, but I paid little attention to his continued safety as I launched him down the rest of the face. We had sleeping bags and were actually too warm, but other than that the bivy was quite similar to our earlier experience this summer on the South Howser Tower - neither of us could move without waking up the other, our bodies developed kinks and cramps, and we slept very little. The most notable similarity was watching the stars disappear in the west long before first light. By dawn, it was obvious that a storm was headed in from the Pacific Ocean. We packed and racked for a long rap session instead of the first pitch. I must admit that neither of us had major regrets - we were simply not enjoying the climbing (again). By noon, we had reached the long approach ledge that diagonals across the lower face, and were hustling to beat the rain, now a certainty. The lower ledges have stretches of slick 3rd- and 4th-class rock that are not pleasant when wet. We would have made it easily if an early stuck rappel rope hadn't forced a full 50m jumar to retrieve. We arrived back at the car in light but steady rain, which turned to a downpour as we drove out of the valley. Next stop a Best Western Hotel with a Jacuzzi in the room. I can't think of a bigger contrast to the night before. That's why we do this, I guess . . . Notes: Bindner's topo diagram was flawless. We placed no passive pro on the first 7 pitches, but of course I have no advice on the upper half. Our equipment included:
Postscript: We didn't realize that the usual bivy is through the tunnel on the other side of the 'Flying Butress.' We were probably too tired to look at the topo. |