Team Jones return to El Cap

The noise of the helicopter rotors pulsates in my ears.  I didn’t think I had a memory of that four years down the line.  It turns out I do.  The smell of the rock, seeing the helicopter land in the valley makes it all flood back.

I watch as a climber is rescued and carried away in an ambulance.  I wouldn’t say I was an emotional type, but I really struggle.

We are on the Muir wall, part of the “Triple Direct” Route on El Cap.  We are into the middle third of the climbing having already done “Freeblast” before it started raining.  That was before all our equipment was stolen.   

Hauling our gear to this point seemed to take forever and we are behind schedule. Our slow progress was compounded by a late start because I didn’t sleep the night before and then we had to wait for another party ahead of us on the ascent route.  The aid climbing is inefficient due to lack of familiarity with our insufficient new and borrowed equipment.  Because we are out of practice.  Because I am scared.  

I finish a pitch and look up at the next. I have completely run out of equipment and have had to be a little more “creative” with my climbing and belay than I would like.  At one point, I fall onto my last bit of gear when the sketchy piece I had placed failed.  I am tired. Scared. I don’t want to be here anymore.  

The decision is made.  Marian and I agree to go back down.  The tears flow, mostly mine.  We return to the ground and I feel relieved. Let off perhaps. Over the next few days I feel pangs of failure and disappointment.  Then I read this and it passes…

FYI the smell of the rock is stale urine.