Washington Column, Astroman

By: Michael Anderson | Climbers: Michael Anderson, Mark Anderson |Trip Dates: May 18, 2002

Photo: Josh Smith

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It's a cold April morning in Yosemite. I crank up the 5.10 second pitch and reach the belay for the Boulder Pitch, the technical crux of Astroman. It's my lead, so I grab the small gear and make a 15-foot horizontal traverse to the base of the arching finger tip crack. Reaching the crack, I see that the gear will not be easy. I place an RP as high as I can get it and fire into the strenuous lieback. About 10 feet later, the RP pulls out.

"Oh shit!…uh, I mean…you're solid,…you're solid!" is the response from Dave, my belayer whom I had met the night before in Camp 4. It turns out his original assessment was correct. I now have a 20-foot loop of rope leading from myself to the belay. In my panic, I attempt to place gear from a terrible position, crouched in a tenuous lieback, with strength quickly draining from my forearms. From this crouch, I can't possibly see into the crack…I have to place gear by Braille. #2 TCU…? No. Too desperate to re-rack, I lay it in my lap and try again. #1 TCU…? No. At this point I realize that I have no strength left.

"Dave, I'm coming off." I say with an attempt at calmness, but the crack in my voice reveals the graveness of the situation. I take a deep breath and let go…. I feel the impact on my heels when I hit the first ledge ten feet below…then I'm falling backwards…my back slams the slab below followed by the whiplash of my head…luckily I'm wearing a helmet. I slide head first, on my back towards the abyss when the rope finally pulls me to a stop.

Ever since that initial failure in April of 2000 I have been haunted by that route. I think about what I did wrong and what I will do next time. The truth is, it was just way beyond me at the time. I really had no business being up there. The week before I had redpointed Coyne Crack in Indian Creek. I felt that climbing that qualified me for Astroman, even though I could count the number of 5.11 trad pitches I had freed on one hand…and none of those were on granite. The arrogance of youth….

It's two years later, and this time I've come prepared. My brother Mark and I have been planning this for months, and have trained thoroughly. We spent the early spring honing our crack skills in Indian Creek, including climbing 5 of the Bridger Jack Spires in a day (narrowly escaping death on 'Easter Island', see Climbing #214, page 28…that was us!) then moved on to some of the classic long free routes in the desert southwest. We did the Rainbow Wall in Red Rocks, 'Monkeyfinger' in Zion, and 'Stoned Oven' in the Black Canyon of the Gunnison. These routes convinced us we could do Astroman, and prepared our bodies for the punishment of pitch after pitch of hard climbing. A route like Astroman is different than a day at the crags because difficult pitches keep coming at you, so you can't train for it by simply climbing at the crags. Our successes on these routes had us thinking we were pretty good…time to head back to the valley to be put in our place

Mark led off the first pitch, running 1 and 2 together. I quickly follow and, once again, I'm at the base of the Boulder Pitch…the moment of reckoning. I was nervous for several reasons, the first being pretty obvious, but the second reason was that I felt like I had been getting out of shape. I hadn't climbed hard in the last couple weeks and was worried that I had peaked a few weeks too early. On my last few trips out onto the rock I had felt sluggish and weak. I had been hoping that just being in the valley would pump me up and get me up the route.

I grab the small gear from Mark and head out on the horizontal traverse. At the start of the thin, arching crack I place a small RP up high, but this time I place another, opposing nut below it and equalize the two pieces with a sling. I'm not going to let it pull out this time. I pull into the layback and I feel confident and strong. I'm soon at my highpoint from my last attempt, but this time I'm smarter…I don't even think about trying to place gear, I continue on until the crack opens up and I can get all of my fingers in it. At this point there's a fixed pin which I clip and quickly finish the pitch.

"Boy, you made that look easy." Is the response from the belay.

"Yeah, I think I missed my calling…I should have been an actor." Is my smartass reply. I'm stoked to have fired off the pitch and I'm suddenly excited to be here. All of my pre-climb anxiety is gone and I'm relieved to finally put that haunting memory behind me. Mark quickly follows the pitch with a quick hang at the crux to rest…his strategy for saving strength for the upcoming Enduro Corner. This is his big goal for the day…to on-sight this 5.11c crux pitch. The Boulder Pitch is considered the technical crux with the hardest single moves, but the Enduro Corner is equally hard because of its length. Mark has been looking forward to this for months. When he told me a few weeks ago that he wanted to lead it, I was reluctant. I am usually the better climber, and I was unsure if he would be able to free the pitch. I had lofty goals of red-pointing the route, and I didn't want him screwing it up for me…how wrong I was!

He starts up the corner and is climbing very smoothly. He climbs 20 feet up before placing any gear, which is a fixed bong in the crack. He looks confident, taking his time at the occasional rests and climbing quickly through the hard sections. Before long I hear a scream…he's at the wide chimney, the end of the hard climbing and he is ecstatic. This is the hardest trad pitch he has ever red-pointed, let alone on-sighted, so he should be excited. Before long, I'm in the corner trying to climb as fast as possible. By now the sun is beating down hard and it's pretty hot in the corner. I climb up to the crux, a 20-foot long thin hands/off fingers section that can be laybacked. At the top of this section a foot pops off…too pumped to recover, I take a ride and fall the entire length of the crux! Angry, I jump right back on without a rest and re-climb the section, quickly joining Mark at the belay.

"Thanks for falling…every time I climb something that I think is hard, you always just cruise it like it's no big deal. It's nice to see that this wasn't easy for you."

"Uh…yeah, I knew you were looking forward to this so, I wanted to make you look good." I lied. The truth is, it was hard, and I didn't have the endurance to do it. I was truly impressed with Mark's lead. After years of dragging him up difficult climbs, I was excited to see that he was becoming an equal partner.

Mark heads off for the next two pitches, both moderate 5.10 that go by pretty quickly. I soon reach him at the hanging belay for the Harding Slot.

"OK, what gear do you want?" I ask.

"What do you mean? You're leading this" He protests.

"I am? Ok, I'll lead it, but I thought it was yours." This put a cramp in my plans. I didn't have a problem leading it, but I wasn't prepared mentally. At this time it's about 11:00 and it is hot as a mo-fo in the dihedral. The slot starts up with a thin hands crack in the corner. The sun is sapping me fast, and it's not long before I'm hanging on the rope. I barely missed a pretty good jug at the mouth of the slot, but that wouldn't have mattered. A few more hangs and some curses get me into the slot with my left side in. At no point did I do a "chicken-wing dyno" as called out on the SuperTopo. So far this feels like the hardest pitch on the route, though I think it would feel much easier if it were in the shade. Next time I climb this route, I'm going to start at noon!

Once in the slot I'm surprised at how spacious it is. There are nice holds on the wall and the going is easy. Just about the time I think I've got it made, I discover that the last 8 feet are the torture. It takes me about 20-30 minutes to do those last 8 feet. There's a Canadian climber at the belay above encouraging me as I struggle through the worst pitch of my life. I have to constantly reassure myself as I fight off the feelings of claustrophobia and panic. I used to think people were exaggerating about this pitch. There is no way anyone could be exaggerating because there are not words in the English language harsh enough to explain the brutality of the slot. Eventually I pull myself to freedom, haul up the slack and drift off into a trance while belaying my brother.

The next pitch starts pleasantly, but the sun is still killing me. I can't wait for the shade! I reach the crux section and choose the 11b option. I came to do this route for the challenge, so I'm not going to skirt past the crux sections. The crux is an awkward layback over a roof. You have to do a long highstep to get your foot over the lip and into the layback which tries to barn door you off. My first attempt is unsuccessful, but I try it again and fire it off. Soon I'm at a kick-ass belay and belay Mark up, who flashes the pitch with little ado. The next pitch is the Changing Corners pitch, and the shade has finally arrived. I suddenly feel revived and I'm excited to climb this pitch.

Before the climb, I hadn't thought much about this pitch, but Mark had built it up in my mind to the point where I was a little worried about it now. The first crux section is a balancey and powerful mantle with bad gear. There is a bolt right above this point, which doesn't make any sense to me, since I can't reach it until after I execute the move. I place a horizontal TCU and make the move, deliberately, finally feeling confident.

Soon, I'm up to the changing corners section and place gear high before stepping out left onto face holds on the arête. The climbing is hard enough to feel fun, and it actually feels somewhat easy. The crux is coming up, a thin crack in a corner. My months of training have prepared me well for this section and I cruise it. When I reach the belay, I realize that I'm finally feeling good about the climb. I wish I could start over and get another shot at the Enduro Corner, and the other hard pitches I failed on.

Mark runs the next two 5.10 pitches together and we're at the final ledge before the last, scary pitch, which is my lead. This pitch is probably the most dangerous, and at 5.10d it's no joke. I have been worried about this all along, but I'm finally feeling confident and ready to give it a try.

I start out up an easy ramp/corner and am soon standing atop a pillar with a fixed pin. The pin is about halfway out of the crack, so I tie it off with a sling. From this point up is 10d face climbing, with the manky pin as the only pro. To add to the fun, the rock is grainy and crumbling. The climbs I have done in the Black Canyon prepared me well for this pitch, and soon I am through the 10d section. I'm able to get a #.3 Camalot in a crack on the left before busting out right to reach the "bear hug flake" mentioned on the topo. I place two small cams (#00 TCU and #.1 Camalot), one on each side of the flake and move up. I doubt if these cams would hold me because the flake seems like it flexes, and it wouldn't take much movement for one of these tiny cams to pull out. About 8 feet above the cam placements is the psychological crux of this pitch, a tenuous, slopey mantel on grainy rock. Throwing caution to the wind, I decide just to climb it without stopping to think…doing so would be disastrous at a time like this and probably just pump me out. Halfway through the mantel, I stall out and end up executing a short mantel-dyno to a higher hold. It works, and I'm able to reach the good crack above that readily accepts gear and takes me to the top.

Mark soon joins me at the top and congratulates me on the lead. We're able to find the descent pretty easily and are soon gazing up at the wall reflecting on our climb. We can be proud of the fact that besides the Harding Slot (the worlds hardest 5.11b), one of us freed every pitch, though not always on the lead. I was disappointed with my performance because I think I should have been able to free the other pitches, but I was glad to have the success that I did. Astroman is certainly a humbling climb, as Yosemite is a humbling place. How can you be in the valley, surrounded by such enormous monoliths, and be foolish enough to think that your puny little self is in any way significant? I know that no matter how good I think I may be, I can always come back to the Valley to be put in my place.

Editor's Note: The author is a Major Contributor to the North American Classics project.