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Soloing the West Face of the Leaning Tower

Historical Perspective

The West Face route on the Leaning Tower is one of the many classic big wall climbs in Yosemite National Park. It winds up the sweeping formation of granite just south of Bridal Veil Falls near the west end of the Valley. The beauty of the route -- and the overwhelming exposure one feels on its overhanging face -- routinely draws climbers from around the world.

The lower part of the Tower overhangs an average of 110 degrees, while the upper section averages about 95 degrees -- making it one of America's most continuously overhanging cliffs. The uniqueness of this route was expressed perfectly in the story that helped make it famous: Al Macdonald's American Alpine Journal article that was titled "The Realm of the Overhang."

"The route is typically climbed by a party of two or three people and completed within two to three days."

The driving force behind the first ascent of the Leaning Tower was Warren Harding, a person who figured prominently in the development of big wall climbing during the golden years of Yosemite exploration. The West Face route was first climbed by Harding, Glen Denny, and George Whitemore in 1961 and took 18 days to complete during their final push to the summit (Harding's first attempt of the route was actually ten months earlier with Al Macdonald and Les Wilson).

With 111 bolts installed and fixed ropes stretching from top-to-bottom, the ascent of the Leaning Tower was one of the first times such aggressive "siege-like" tactics were used to climb a big wall. It was this record-setting number of bolts placed on a single route that helped create one of the first major ethical and climbing-style controversies in the history of rock climbing in Yosemite Valley.

Royal Robbins also played an important part in the route's history by soloing it two years later in four days time -- not only was this the second ascent of the route, it was also the first-ever solo climb of a big wall in Yosemite National Park! Robbins did the route in spectacular style. He completed the route from the ground-up in one push and permanently replaced dozens of bolts that Harding had cleaned during the first ascent. Robbins also did not use fixed lines that stretched all the way to the ground like Harding did, thus making the route much more "committing" considering how tough it is to retreat off the steep faces of the Tower.

Today, with its pristine location, moderate grade, and established topos, the Leaning Tower is climbed almost continuously during the summer months by beginners and hard-men alike. The route is typically climbed by a party of two or three people and completed within two to three days. However, in 1995, Hans Florine solo-onsighted the route in 5 hours and 56 minutes! And one year later, he went back with Andres Puhvel to run up the route in just under 3 hours and 21 minutes!

Given the Leaning Tower's long history, and the fact that I could not find a climbing partner for the specific time-slot of September 10-13, 1999, I decided to follow in the footsteps of both Warren Harding and Royal Robbins by soloing the West Face route more than 35 years after its first ascent.

Day One - November 10, 1999

I woke up bright and early the morning of the first day because I knew there was a lot of work ahead. After breaking down my bivy spot (that I "poached" near the Lower Pines Campground in Yosemite Valley), I strolled over to Curry Village for a hearty breakfast. I knew I was in for a serious workout, and that this would be the last hot food I would eat for days, so I pigged-out on eggs, bacon, hash browns, and toast. I then hopped in my car and eagerly drove down to the Bridal Veil Falls parking lot to get started on my endeavor to climb the Leaning Tower.

"...I was hanging about 15 feet out from the ledge with a couple of hundred feet of air looming beneath my dangling toes!"
I had packed my gear the night before, so I was ready to get going as soon as I arrived in the lot. I planned to make two trips to the base of the climb simply because I had too much gear to carry in one load -- I erred on bringing too much stuff knowing that my load would get lighter during the next few days and that I wanted to be able to stick out an extra day if need be. I was hoping to be able to carry it all at once after I reached the summit. The first load I carried up the nearly 500-vertical foot approach consisted mostly of climbing gear: one 50m rope for leading, one 60m rope for hauling, two sets of camming devices with sizes up to three inches wide, two sets of stoppers, 40+ carabiners, a Wall-Hauler pulley, and a slew of other climbing equipment.

Once I scrambled up the talus fields and along the bottom of the cliff to the start of the route, I stashed my gear in the bushes and went back down for the second load. The first trip was long, and required some route-finding, but it was relatively moderate; the way up was pretty obvious from below.

After getting back to the car, I ate lunch and relaxed just a bit before setting out up the switch-backing trail that wound up and through the boulder fields again. This time I carried 10.5 liters of water, rain gear, a sleeping pad and bag, and food (cans of fruit and soup, a pepperoni stick, string cheese, apples, power bars, power gel, and a bunch of Jolly Ranchers to help quench my cotton-mouth). The second time up the approach was much more brutal and exhausting than the first. The sun was finally out in force, and sweat started to pour off my face as I criss-crossed my way back up the boulder field. I had to make frequent stops so that I wouldn't burn myself out too quickly -- after all, I still needed to climb the first pitch, not to mention the fact that I had three more days of hard work ahead.

At this point, I managed to shuttle all of my gear up to the base of the route by 1:00 PM. Although I was happy to finally have completed the approach, I still had to get across a very exposed fourth-class ledge system to the actual start of the climb. This ledge system cut directly out to the left a couple of hundred feet from where the trail runs up next to the cliff, and put me nearly 100-200 feet up on the formation when I reached the anchor at the bottom of the first pitch. Luckily, there was a fixed static line that allowed me to self-belay across the ridge. I had to take three separate trips because I feared that carrying any more gear on a single trip would be too difficult and dangerous.

Finally, at about 2:30 PM, I had gotten all my gear across the ledges and was ready to start fixing the first pitch. It was an easy 140 foot bolt ladder that went straight up an overhanging face. It was steep, but it was also straight-forward aid climbing. Once I finished the pitch, I fixed the line and rapped back down to the start of the climb. It was on this first rap down when I realized how overhanging the Leaning Tower really was. By the time I had reached the vertical level of the initial ledge system, I had to literally pull myself back into the wall because I was hanging about 15 feet out from the ledge with a couple of hundred feet of air looming beneath my dangling toes!

It was a long day of initial preparations, but everything had gone as planned: I had all of my gear at the start of the route, and the first pitch was fixed and ready for tomorrow morning. The time was 4:30 PM at this point, and I was beat from too much exercise and sun exposure. So I called it a day. Since there was still three hours of sunlight ahead, I decided to reverse the 4th-class traverse again in the name of finding some shade (also a nice four person or more bivy spot). After reading a little bit and watching the sun drop over the west side of the Valley, I crossed the traverse again to get back to my gear (that's a total of four round-trips across the ledge -- what a hassle!). At last I could totally relax. I broke out my sleeping bag, and had a hearty dinner of cold Chef-Boy-R-D ravioli from a can while sitting on my comfy Styrofoam sleeping pad.

While sleeping directly under the start of the climb (good bivy for one person) that night, a stately owl perched itself right next to me on the branches of a dead tree. Its wings caused a flutter so loud that it scared me and woke me up in the middle of the night. The owl stared right at me for a couple of minutes -- even after I shined my headlamp at it. It was cool to see such an awesome animal up close, but I wasn't sure if it wanted the eat one of my fingers for a midnight snack! I finally spooked it away by shaking my tie-in point which rattled the carabiners in the climbing anchor.

Day Two - November 11, 1999

I woke up before first light, sometime around 5:30 am, because I knew I had another long day ahead of me. I stuffed away my sleeping bag and got everything else packed into the haul bag -- always seems to be a pain in the ass. I then opened a can of fruit cocktail and ate a quick breakfast, which also included a Balance bar.

This was it. I was about to commit to my journey up the West Face of the Leaning Tower. It was now about 6:00 am. I clamped my jumars to the rope that I had fixed the day before and headed up to the top of the first pitch. On my way up, I took out, or cleaned, all of the carabiners I had left behind the previous day so I could use them on the pitches yet to come. (You can refer to the topo on the right to better understand where each pitch was located within the grand scheme of the route.)

"It was a nice ledge that allowed me to take the pressure off my harness for a few minutes. Thank god! I was already starting to get bruises on both of my hips."

Once at the second belay, I hauled up my gear and got organized to lead the second pitch. I knew that I could link pitches one and two with a 60m rope, but I only had one 60m (haul line) and one 50m rope (lead line). However, I was also told that I could link the second and third pitches or the third and fourth pitches with a 50m rope, so I headed up with the thought of linking pitches two and three.

The second pitch was basically a continuation of the bolt and rivet ladder of the first, but it had a short section of aid climbing in the middle. It was a rather uneventful pitch, but I decided to stop and make a belay rather than try to link the two pitches together because I was running low on carabiners. I set up my belay station by first fixing the lead line to the anchor, and then setting up the haul system with the haul line. Once complete, I rappelled down the haul line to the start of the second pitch, lowered out the haul bag, and then started back up the lead line cleaning out the gear that I had just used to climb up with. Once back at the top of the pitch again, I hauled up my gear using an auto-locking pulley called a Wall-Hauler in combination with my jumars. This was the routine I would do seven more times before reaching the top.

(The next two paragraphs are more technical in nature and can easily be skipped if you are a non-climber and don't care...)

The overall solo-aid climbing technique goes something like this: (1) lead the next pitch of climbing up to an obvious belay stance with bolts or other protection (or until you run out of rope), (2) rig an anchor at the belay, fix the lead-line to the new anchor, pull up the haul line (which was tied to the end of the lead line), and set up the haul system, (3) rap down the now-fixed haul line back to the start of the pitch, (4) un-weight, unclip, and lower out the haul bag so it is ready to be hauled up once I reach the top again, (5) ascend the now-fixed lead line while taking out the equipment that was placed on lead, and then (6) haul up the haul bag once back at the top of the pitch.

The specifics of my solo-ropes and self-belay technique was to: (1) tie the haul bag onto the haul line with an extra 10m of rope hanging off of it to be used for lowering out the "pig" (this left another 50m for fixing and rapping, which also made it the same length as my lead line), (2) tie the lead line to the end of the haul line, thus making one giant 400 foot line that consisted of two ropes tied together, (3) stack all 400 feet of both ropes neatly on top of themselves into a rope bucket (bag) that is hanging off the belay, (4) fix the other end (the non-haul bag end) of the 400 foot loop into the belay anchor angled and equalized for upward pull, (5) clip into the now-fixed lead line with a Gri-Gri, and (6) tie in "short" to the lead line about 20-30 feet out in front of the Gri-Gri (and then re-tie this knot every 20-30 feet while on lead -- this was my "back-up") . If there was a short pitch, I could simply pull the rest of the lead line up, and the haul line would be tied to the end of it. OK, enough with the specifics of solo climbing, lets get back to the story at hand...

"At one point I got my smaller camming device stuck in the crack in a big way. I knew that I might need it again on the same pitch and on the rest of the climb..."
The next pitch of climbing was deemed "C2" with some fixed gear. That meant that it was some of the hardest aid climbing on the whole route, but that it also had some fixed gear that was somewhat permanently stuck in the crack. Most of it turned out to be easy climbing with my protection feeling mostly secure. However there was a thin section with fixed gear that had pulled. It was here that I decided to first use my cheater stick to bypass a few hard moves. This allowed me to clip a piton about four feet above my current location. Using a Cheater stick is always an ethical dilemma for a climber, but the beta I heard was either bring some "heads" or bring a cheater stick. It certainly saved me time and a possible leader fall, and also helped me keep my sanity while on route. (It was clear in the end however that these sections could probably be done with hooks and really small wired nuts).

After continuing up the crack system, I reached the third belay. It was a nice ledge that allowed me to take the pressure off my harness for a few minutes. Thank god! I was already starting to get bruises on both of my hips. Anyway, I managed to back-clean several pieces on the last 80 feet, and decided that I would be able to continue all the way to the "Ahwahnee and Guano Ledges" which were at the top of the fourth pitch. This would allow me to link pitches three and four together.

Skipping this belay saved me time by avoiding the logistics that come with setting up and breaking down another anchor. Sure enough, I reached Guano Ledge in no time. As it turns out Warren Harding named the ledge appropriately: many birds and bats had made homes in the cracks above the ledges, thus making it a natural bird outhouse -- everything on Guano was sprinkled in dried (and not-so-dried) bird and bat dung. Nasty! Harding named the Ahwahnee Ledge after the local native Americans.

From there I set my new anchor, rigged the haul system, and rapped back down to the top of pitch two. This cycle was starting to become routine and monotonous. I then lowered out the pig and headed back up to clean the pitch. Once back at the ledge, I hauled up my bag and decided to take a break because I had made my goal for the day and my arms and legs were a little weak. My plan was to sleep on the ledge just to the left of Guano, dubbed the Ahwahnee Ledge, for the night. But I still needed to fix a pitch or two above in order to get a jump on the following day's climbing. If I didn't, I thought that I might not make it in one shot the next day.

It was about 1:00 PM at this point, and I knew that the sun would be showing its ugly face soon. Since the route goes up the west face, it is completely in the shade until early afternoon. Once the sun comes over the lip however, the entire wall acts like a giant solar panel in a mean way! Because of this, I thought it would be a good idea to take a 45 minute break while I still had shade left. This would allow me to have some food, water, and a needed rest before setting back out to complete the next two pitches in the scorching-hot sun.

After lunch, I lathered up my face with sunblock, put my visor on underneath my helmet, and headed out to fix the next two pitches. Since I was going to rap back down to the ledge to sleep, I would not have to haul the bag on these pitches. So I headed out on the next lead after grabbing my headlamp just in case it got dark before I finished. The pitch traversed up and to the right, and required awkward aid climbing (C2) and even what seemed to be a "free" move or two. I took a long time to lead this pitch, maybe even as long as two hours! It required the use of many small to medium size stoppers that sometimes looked real dicey. It would have helped to have had stoppers that were offset in shape, but all I had were the normal Black Diamond brand stoppers.

At one point I got my smaller camming device -- a blue "alien" -- stuck in the crack in a big way. I knew that I might need it again on the same pitch and on the rest of the climb (not to mention that it was expensive), so I spent nearly 20 minutes to get the damn thing back out -- I almost gave up. Good thing though, as it turned out, I used it two more times on that lead alone! Cleaning the pitch didn't go much faster either, as it required some funky maneuvers to get the gear out while traversing to the right. I had to clip my top jumar over the next piece every single time (on this pitch and almost every other), and in a couple of spots, I had to lower myself out on a "bite" of rope that was pulled through a fixed piece of webbing.

It was at this point I realized that I had not untied the lead line from the anchor below. Normally, I would have completely broken down the anchor below and untied everything. But since I was going to spend the night on the Ahwahnee Ledge, I left both the lead line and haul line fixed on the ledge. This was a potential problem because I was not sure if I could link pitches five and six together with 50m ropes. After some contemplation of my options, I decided to go for the top of six while letting the haul line hang straight back to the ledge -- this way I could potentially rap down to the ledge before I reached the end of the bolt and rivet ladder (being backed up by all of the rivets and bolts on the sixth pitch).

The start of the sixth pitch required a free climbing move in the 5.7 range. Instead of getting out on the sharp end though, I decided to use my cheater stick once again to reach the first bolt. This technique might not have been in the best style, but I wasn't in the mood for a leader fall while on self-belay -- stick-clipping it was simply faster and easier (but of course, not in the best style). After finally moving up the bolt and rivet ladder which traversed back to the left (right above Ahwahnee Ledge), I made it to the top of pitch six without running out of rope. I did, however, have a new problem to contend with. It seemed as if I had no way to rap back down to the bottom of pitch six so I could clean it. The haul line went back down to the Ahwahnee ledge, not to the top of pitch five, like it usually would have. I thought that I might be able to down-clean the pitch on rappel, but that turned out to simply be impossible due to the traversing nature of the pitch. Every time I pulled a piece of climbing gear out, I swung farther to the left of the next one, which made it even more difficult to clean the next piece.

Since it was starting to get dark, and I was extremely exhausted by this point, I decided not to worry about it, and instead headed down for the night to get some food and rest. The Ahwahnee Ledge, which was linked to Guano Ledge by about 50 feet of fixed static rope, was a great bivy spot. It had a luxurious ten by four foot flat space that was perfect for setting up camp (good bivy for three people). Earlier, I set a can of chicken noodle soup out in the sun so that it would warm up in before dinner time rolled around. My idea worked like a charm! The soup almost tasted as if it had actually been heated up about fifteen minutes earlier and now was just luke-warm.

After dinner, I turned on my cheesy FM radio to the local classic rock station, 104.1 the "HAWK," just to take my mind off the long day that lay ahead tomorrow. It helped me to fall asleep (while still tied into the wall of course).

Day Three - November 12, 1999

I woke around 5:30 am the next day with swollen hands and creaky fingers, not to mention every other aching muscle in my body. It was these aches and pains coupled with the fact I had another huge day ahead, as well as my still-unsolved problem on the sixth pitch, that lead me to start seriously contemplating retreating off of the Tower. What if I just didn't have enough stamina and strength to make it to the top? What if I couldn't figure out how to deal with my problem on the sixth pitch? Would I still make it to the top before nightfall if I had to re-lead the fifth pitch? These questions and many more flew through my brain at a-mile-a-minute during my short breakfast, which consisted of another can of fruit cocktail followed by another Power Bar (even my meals were starting to fall into a monotonous routine at this point).

Even though my instincts were to go down, something drove me to press on. I had come to the Valley this week to prove something to myself. I was going to climb this formidable formation solo -- even if it killed me (just joking folks!!!). Seriously, I wasn't going to give up until I was really screwed or I couldn't move any of my muscles at all. Besides, bailing off of the Leaning Tower would have been no small feat either. I would have had to rap down clipping into the wall every so often because of its steepness. If I didn't clip in occasionally, I would end up hanging out in free space with no way to pull myself back into the cliff. Because of this, I would then have had to fix the bottom of the rope, jumar back up the line, and then rap back down with the pig -- on several of the pitches! This, coupled with the fact that I would also have to reverse the nasty fourth-class ledges at the base of the route, made it seem almost easier to continue up rather than to retreat off of the Tower. So I decided to continue on with the madness of solo big wall climbing.

After thinking hard about my options, I brainstormed another possible way to clean the sixth pitch. My idea was a little sketchy, but was one that would also put me back on schedule to make the summit before nightfall. I decided that my best option at this point was to pendulum off the Guano ledge! I felt that this option was safe because the rope did not run across any sharp edges that could potentially cut it during the swing, and it would also get me to the top of pitch six the fastest given my current circumstances. So I loaded up all of my gear into the Haul bag, and lowered it out so that it was ready to be hauled once I reached the top of six. Then I clipped both of my jumars into the fixed lead line (which was now free hanging, leading up and to the right where it was tied into the belay between pitches five and six). And, of course, I also tied in short to the lead line as a back-up. From this point, I lowered myself out on the long slings that were fixed at the start of the fifth pitch, so I was hanging as far to the right as possible, before letting go for the ride of my life!!!

What a 6:00 am wake up call that was! I swung nearly 50 feet out and to the right and just missed hitting the Haul bag (this was the plan). Eventually, my momentum came to a stop and everything was OK -- there was no doubt that this was the scariest moment of the entire climb for me. I then jumared up the rope to the top of pitch five and went on to clean the sixth pitch without incident. After hauling up my gear, I was finally ready to head off towards the summit. There was no turning back now.

(Note: I later realized that I could have simply rappelled the sixth pitch by re-clipping the lead line back into the protection on the way down instead of trying to clean the gear while on rappel. Duh! This meant I could have cleaned it the night before, or in the morning I could have jugged the haul line back to the top of six and then rap and clean six instead of doing a sketchy pendulum like I did. The only thing I can think of is that I must have been too wigged-out to think of such a simple solution at the time?)

Pitch seven went straight up a vertical crack that could be free climbed at a difficulty rating of 5.10. Since I was self-belayed and a bit scared at this point, I thought it would be best to do the easier alternative: climb the pitch as C1 aid climbing like most other parties do. It turned out to be a long, but pretty straight forward section of aid. I back-cleaned just enough to make it to the anchor with enough gear to rig another belay.

Once at the top, I looked up to see a massive, overhanging roof ahead. It was particularly scary looking because I had never aided anything that steep before. However, there was no time to worry about that at the time because I still had to rappel down the haul line, lower out the pig, jumar back up the fixed lead line while cleaning, and haul the bag up before it even mattered. This routine was now starting to get grueling, and I seriously questioned how much more of it I could take. Thank god the route stayed in the shade for the majority of the day, or else I would have been toast! Since the next two pitches looked like a lot of work, I chilled out for a few minutes to regain my strength, drink some water, and suck down a packet of Power Gel. I was told earlier that it was possible to link the eighth and ninth pitches together with a 50m rope, so I headed up what was a short 50 foot pitch of climbing with the intent to continue into the 9th pitch. Leading pitch eight went quickly in only fifteen minutes. It followed a corner system up a slab that led to the intimidating roof that loomed above. Once I reached the eighth belay bolts, I could see that most of the roof had fixed gear running through it. That was good news for me because I could now simply focus on making upward progress through the overhang without worrying about placing too much gear while on the way (although some of the fixed gear didn't look that great, it all managed to hold me). Sure enough I tackled the section, improving my fi-fi hooking technique the whole way. It still took a long time, but I made it past the overhang, and continued up through another corner system to the sloping ledge on the top of pitch nine.

I had just made it to my must-make goal for the day, and it was only 3:00 PM! The ledge I was standing on wouldn't have made for the best night's sleep, but it would have worked fine in a pinch -- it sure would be better than sleeping in my harness all night. It was here when I first felt confident that I could make it to the top of the Tower by nightfall. All I had to do was go down and clean the eighth and ninth pitches, haul up the bag, and complete one more pitch to finish. This fact gave me a much-needed second-wind before I headed back down.

This rap turned out to be the wildest one of them all. Because of the overhang, I was rapping away from the wall while going down. My ass was hanging out more than 800 feet above the ground below, with nothing between me and the ground but air! I wanted to take a picture, but I was too scared to stop and hang out for more than a second -- I was more interested in getting back to the anchor as fast as I could! (On an interesting note, a soloist gets to rappel the entire route, unlike the typical climbing party of two or three that wouldn't rappel at all unless they were retreating from the route.)

On the way down however, I did scope a party of two climbers underneath me on the fifth pitch. They had a very small haul bag, so I thought they might be climbing the Tower in a day. I yelled down to ask them, and they confirmed my suspicion. They also yelled back that they knew me... They were the climbers I picked up hitch-hiking (to the super-famous free climb called the Rostrum) just days earlier. When I told them that I was soloing the Leaning Tower during our ride together, they said it inspired them to climb it too. They were two Irish guys who were obviously very experienced free climbers. Although they never caught up to me during the day, we all ended up sleeping together at the top that night. As it turned out, they slept at the bottom of the climb the night before, climbed the route by nightfall the following day, and then completed the descent in the morning of the next day.

Anyway, I then went on to clean the eighth and ninth pitches. The ninth pitch was a bitch due its severe overhanging nature! It required all sorts of antics to jug past the fixed pieces of gear, let alone the pieces that I had placed myself. It was also here when my right forearm totally cramped up on me like never before. My muscle just "seized." I had to hang there for a few minutes while I caught my breath and massaged my forearm until it came back to life. After that, I finally made it up and hauled the gear.

I was now ready to attack the final pitch. It started up another overhanging roof, but this time it was less dramatic and much easier to climb. It also happened to be the only place I used my widest piece of climbing equipment -- my number four Camalot camming device. After moving past the roof, the final stretch followed the very thin seam of a crack up a corner to a roof that had to be traversed left. As an interesting footnote, one of the fixed pieces that I stood on in this section actually ripped out on the guys below me! Thank god it ripped on them and not on me... I'm sure it would have scared me half to death.

I slimed my way up and out from under the final roof to find myself standing on a huge honeymoon suite-like ledge on the top of the Tower. I had made it to the top with hours of daylight to spare! Since I knew I was going to be fine for the night, and I had no plans to try to get down until the next day, I took a much needed rest before going back down to finish the cleaning and hauling the last pitch. I chugged a ton of water, ate another Power Gel, and then headed down to clean for the last time. It was a nice feeling knowing that I was going to make it for sure. I took my sweet time jugging, cleaning, and hauling that last pitch.

Now it was time to celebrate! I fixed a rope across the ledge such that I could walk anywhere and still be tied in to the anchor. I then busted out the radio and turned on the HAWK once again. I dug out my sleeping pad and some snacks, and sat down to relax any enjoy the beautiful scenery for the first time without the thought of the climb ahead clouding the peacefulness of it all. I felt a great sense of accomplishment at that moment -- it was almost as if all the hard work was actually worth it after all.

About a hour after the sun dropped over the horizon, my two Irish buddies popped their heads over the top: first the leader, and then his partner. We shared our experiences, and since I had brought way too much food with me, we shared the tasty pepperoni that I had brought along with a couple of more cans of soup. After dinner, we passed out almost immediately on the sweet ledge at the top of this huge leaning piece of granite (good bivy for four or more people). Day three was complete, and so was the epic adventure of the climb -- or so I thought...

Day Four - November 13, 1999

Knowing that I had the whole day to get down, I planned to sleep in a little bit longer on the fourth day. However, my plan was spoiled by my two Irish buddies who were motivated to start the descent as early as possible. I wasn't sure what the rush was, but I got up and ate breakfast with them anyway. They ate peanut butter and pita bread, and I ate my last can of fruit cocktail. After breakfast, they mumbled something about getting down in time to go climb another route later in the day. I wasn't thinking about the left climb yet, I was more preoccupied about getting down in one piece. By this point, every muscle in my body ached, from my fingers and hands, down to my legs and feet. I was feeling completely shot and burnt-out.

The Irish guys then asked me if I wanted to do the descent with them instead of doing it by myself. It was a tempting offer, but I knew I would be going much slower than they would because of my huge haul bag. This wasn't the only reason however, I had started climbing the route solo, and I wanted to finish the route solo too. So I let my two Irish friends head out while I stayed behind to take my time packing the gear into the pig one last time. I strategically placed each item into the bag, knowing that this time the bag was going to be extremely heavy to carry. I packed the heavier gear closer to my back and higher off my hips, and the lighter gear toward the outside of the pack so the load would feel better once on my back.

There was a little section of fourth-class climbing that needed to be done before I could start the rappels over the back side of the Tower. Since my pack was so heavy, and falling would have been dangerous in this spot, I decided to climb up the short section without the gear first in order to fix a rope to self-belay myself back up with. Once I reached the true top of the Leaning Tower, I was dazzled by the spectacular view of El Capitan to the north. The descent route was also clearly seen from this vantage point.

I needed to make three short raps down a slab, and then move south (away from El Cap) into the Leaning Tower Chimney. Since everything had been going according to plan thus far, I decided to be extra conservative on the way down. I didn't want to have anything go wrong at the end of my trip so I decided to use two ropes tied together for each of the rappels just in case one of the raps was longer than 30 meters in length. I also decided that I would have to wear the haul bag on my back rather than let it hang between my legs because the slab was at a very low angle -- this was too bad because it is much more comfortable when the bag is hanging by itself. The combination of these two facts caused what should have been a quick and easy three rappels into a much longer ordeal than it should have been.

Since I couldn't throw the rappel ropes down very far because of the slab, I had to constantly lean over with the heavy-as-hell haul bag on my back to pick up the wad of ropes and throw them down the slab a little farther again and again. I was concerned that if I rapped past the knotted pile of ropes, the pile might have gotten stuck above me, leaving almost no way of getting it unstuck from below. Besides this hassle with the ropes, the first three rappels were fairly routine -- the raps start at a large tied-off boulder at the very top of the Tower, then go down to a tree, then down to a depression with slings tied through a hole in the rock, and finally down to the ground located near the start of the Leaning Tower Chimney.

Once at the bottom of the first three raps, I had to take a rest. The back side of the Tower actually faces the sun in the morning, and I was getting cooked right from the start of the day. However, the good news was now that I was about to head down into the chimney system, I would be back in the shade for the rest of the morning. Thank god! The hot sun was really starting to take its toll on me. During my short break, I sucked down some Power Gu and busted out some of my water. It was refreshing, but I noticed that there wasn't much water left -- maybe one liter at the most. From this point on, I would have to conserve water, or risk running out before I reached the car.

After the much needed break, I climbed down to scope what the next set of rappels looked like. The first one turned out to be a steep rap heading straight down to a flat spot in the chimney. That was good news for me because it meant that I could lower the haul bag down by itself, and then rap without it. I liked that idea and quickly implemented it -- the section was complete in no time. At this point, two or three rappels led down the low-angle chimney system towards the ever-nearing ground. This part of the descent really sucked because I had to carry the load on my back the entire way down. At one point there was a fixed static line tied off to only one good bolt in the Chimney. Since I didn't like the idea of rapping off of just one bolt, I backed the anchor up using a bunch of slings tied to a small tree nearby and left them there -- money well-spent in my book, and I'm sure the next party of climbers will be happy about it too!

It was on this fixed line however, that I learned another valuable big wall lesson. About half-way down, I encountered a knot in the rope. This was a typical scenario with fixed lines because sometimes a knot must be tied around a damaged piece of the rope. The only problem this caused for me was that I was on rappel with a Gri-Gri, and my jumars were packed away in my haul bag. Duh! I needed to use my jumars to take myself off-belay for a moment while passing the knot. This could have been a real nasty problem had I been rapping down steep terrain because I could have gotten stuck there, not being able to go up or down without my precious jumars.

In the end, I got lucky. There was a small ledge that I could stand on right under the knot. This ledge was the only thing that allowed me to pass the knot without the use of my jumars. This taught me a valuable lesson: climbers should always have their jumars clipped off to their harness while rappelling on a big wall; you just never know when you will need them. Anyway, you can bet your ass that I dug through the bag at the next belay to find them before heading back down on the final rappels.

From here, there were two more raps to go, both on fixed lines. Even though the ropes were stiff and obviously worn, they provided fast access to downward progress because I didn't have to rig and re-rig each rap anchor. However, The second-to-last fixed line had about seven knots in it near the top. This caused me to rig my own rap station at the same huge tree that the fixed line was tied to. I thought it would simply be easier to use my own ropes rather than passing seven knots with the massive pig hanging from my back. I rapped my lines to the final belay, and then pulled them down for the last rap to the ground.

It had been a long, hard journey to get off the formation, but it was almost over. With only one more rap to go, I started to feel the excitement of knowing that the technically and mentally tough part of the climb was about to end. But of course, the Tower wasn't going to let me off that easy. I rigged my Gri-Gri onto the last fixed rope and headed down. I made one crucial error however, I left the haul bag on my back and the last rappel was a steep one. So instead of having the pig comfortably hanging from my harness on the final rap, it was pulling me over backwards and making the ride down pretty knarley. I had to crunch my stomach muscles as hard as I could to remain upright, and by the bottom, I wasn't sure if I would have to pitch the haul bag off my bag or risk having my back break into two pieces! When I finally reached the bottom, I made my landing on the ground in a horizontal position with me laying on my back on top of the bag which was also laying on the ground -- kind of like a sandwich, with the haul bag squished in-between me and the ground. I didn't move from this position for about ten minutes. I was so exhausted and wigged-out that I just laid there while still strapped into my pack. But that was it, the hard part was over, and I made it down in one piece!

Now I was sure that everything was going to be fine, all I had to do was walk down the approach and back to the car. I took a long break at the bottom of the last rappel. Now I had to put both ropes into the haul bag, thus making it an even heavier and bulkier load than it was before. It turned out to be so heavy in fact, that I dragged it down to the top of the talus field below instead of carrying it at first. This option seemed easier than putting it on my back, and it ended up working like a charm.

Once I reached the top of the boulder fields, I discovered that I was almost out of water -- now I would really have to conserve, only drinking a little at a time to quench my cotton-mouth. The sun was now starting to shine on the west face, making the temperature climb almost instantly. And worst of all, I knew I would have to put the pig on my back for the rest of the descent. The haul bag was so heavy with both ropes in it, that I had to first situate it on a perfectly-sized rock, and then strap myself in while its weight was still resting on the rock. It was only then, that I could muster the strength and coordination to actually stand upright with the pack on.

The next stretch of trail probably took close to an hour to complete. As soon as I started walking down from a rest, I would immediately scope for the next big rock that would enable me to sit down and rest again. Then I would get up, carefully walk a couple hundred feet and then sit down again. There were a couple of moments where I thought the mass and momentum of the haul bag on my back was going to throw me down the boulder fields like a rag doll. I did this stop-and-go routine over and over again, until I finally made it back to my car at the bottom of the Bridal Veil Falls parking area.

The process of getting off the backside of the Leaning Tower turned out to be a huge task due to the large amount of gear I had to carry on my own. I didn't reach the car until nearly 2:30pm, after starting down almost six hours earlier. With a partner, the descent would have been a no-brainer. In retrospect, the descent is straight-forward and relatively safe from a technical standpoint.

Conclusion

I couldn't believe that I had successfully solo-aided the West Face of the Leaning Tower! After three and a half days of grueling labor, I had done the approach twice, traversed the ledges at the start four times, climbed the route twice (leading and cleaning each pitch), rapped it once, hauled the entire thing, and completed the descent -- all by myself! I was utterly exhausted, dehydrated, hungry, and filthy, but I had accomplished what originally seemed to be an impossible goal. I felt extremely proud not only because I successfully soloed the route, but also because IT WAS MY FIRST BIG WALL EVER!!!

(Note: I am experienced free climber and had practiced more than 15 pitches of aid-climbing before setting off to do the Tower solo. My practice included aiding, jugging, and hauling the first four pitches of the Nose, as well as jugging and hauling the five pitches of fixed lines that lead up to Heart Ledges in Yosemite.)

I also want to thank all of the people who inspired my climbing over the years, including June Hom (who has always been supportive and now is my wife), Dan Neber (who got me started in climbing in the first place), Todd Lazatera (who taught me how to lead climb), Lance Anderson (who turned me on to Yosemite trad-climbing), and Lenny Oliker (who continues to sign me up for scary Yosemite and Tuolumne Meadows routes on a regular basis). I also want to thank Chris McNamara for his tips on how to solo-aid efficiently, his excellent route description, and his awesome "Super-Topo" of the West Face route. Without these people's encouragement over the years, I never could have done it. Thanks everyone!

Some final thoughts... Being on your own up there for days at a time almost allows one to enter a Zen-like state of conciseness. I found myself not doing as much introspective thinking as I thought I would have -- there was simply no time to think about anything but the next task at hand. When it wasn't scary, soloing turned out to be a more meditative experience than an introspective one (for me). While soloing, I became so completely engrossed in the next task that there was no time for my mind wander onto other things. This is what makes soloing so different from climbing with a partner -- there is no resting while belaying the leader, no partner to pick you up when you are down, and no one to provide the occasional reality check. Basically it's a full-on, in-your-face test of your mental and physical stamina.

Although it was an experience of a lifetime, I'm not sure if I'll be signing up for another solo of a big wall anytime soon. I think the next time I'll bring a partner with me to help share the load.

Thanks for reading my story!

Bill Swerbenski, MountainZone.com Pubster

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