SCOTT DAVIS and I drove into Yosemite early in April, planning to climb a new route on El Cap. Finding that two climbers were already trying the Morning Light Route on the North America Wall, we decided to try an unclimbed line through the Heart on the Salathé Wall. Chouinard, Herbert, and Robbins had already shown that fine alpine climbing style is possible on El Cap’s big walls. So, with nothing left to prove, we simply planned to have a good time.

We did not intend to amuse a thrill-seeking audience of tourists watching from the doorsteps of their mobile homes as they consumed Curry Company hot dogs and beer. Feeling that this “El Capitan Circus” idea is obscene, we avoided it by asking the rangers not to release our names or details of our climb. No worry, since they lost our sign-out cards anyhow. Only a few friends knew our plans. No ground-support party of hanger-ons was recruited. We hoped to be completely alone and self-reliant for the duration of the climb.

We had already packed gear for the Morning Light Route, so we simply dragged everything to the base of the Heart Route instead. Two hauling sacks and a rucksack carried nine gallons of water and seven dollars worth of food. A couple of pleasant afternoons were spent fixing ropes and hauling gear to the top of the Slack — a popular 300-foot climb at the base of El Cap. Finally, after a fruitless search for more drills (we had only eight), we were on the wall for good. Using many bolts, I led up and right across a steep slab. I used our bat-hook once, then decided that bolts are much safer and only a little harder to place. The pitch ended at two bolts, 100 feet out. By the time Scott arrived, it was late afternoon. He led across some difficult hook and piton placements, then came back at dark. Two bolts supported two home-made single suspension hammocks that night.

The second morning Scott finished bolting across to a vertical crack, nailed up, and belayed from bolts leading to the next crack. I nailed a few pins to the end of the crack, then bolted up across an endless blank section. With each bolt the drills got duller, the holes got shallower, and Scott got more impatient. Finally he screamed in agony, dragged me down, and went up to finish the bolt ladder himself. After a few more bolts, he placed a pin up under a flake. It held until he was in his top steps and had almost placed a cliffhanger. The rope stopped Scott, but the sky-hook kept falling. He placed a bolt to pass the bad flake. Then, using our other hook and a bent-over piton, he made a fantastic series of hook moves. One last bolt led to a hanging belay in a “C” shaped crack. One of the bolts fell out as I jümared — a problem for the second ascent party to worry about. I led a friction pitch to Heart Ledge. In the dark the haul-bags stuck, but finally we got everything up and settled into a pleasant bivouac on this spacious terrace. Watching the Sunday night traffic on the highway below reminded us of our drive to the Valley four days earlier. Scott summed it up: “I’d rather be here than on the Bayshore Freeway at 5:00.” Sleep came easily on the soft sand.

The next day we climbed unroped at the back of the Heart for a pitch, then began nailing up the dihedral formed by the left side of the Heart. The first pitch was only A3. But the belay was about A3, too. It was nice to be with someone as competent as Scott. He carefully divided the load between six pitons. Only one of them popped out as I jümared. Above, the climbing was easy and boltless for five pitches. The only other excitement that day came on a dirty pitch. Whole ecosystems of grass, bugs, and bushes plummeted a thousand feet to the base of El Cap as Scott cleared the crack. Finally a tied-off root led to cleaner climbing. We bivouacked in hammocks near the top of the Heart.

In the morning I led a pitch to the top of the Heart recess — roofs all around. Scott climbed and pendulumed left and then nailed out over the roofs at the left corner of the Heart. After this complicated pitch — the No Reverse Traverse — we were across a pendulum and 1500 overhanging feet above the ground. In the days before El Cap rescues were in fashion, we now would have been committed to finishing the route. I set up a hammock bivouac a pitch higher.

The next day I nailed and jammed up past a small ledge. Above, the climbing was hard. First thing I knew, a knifeblade pulled out and I was hanging below the ledge again, upside-down this time. I was in considerable pain — more mental than physical since I had only fallen thirty feet and only almost hit the ledge. I rationalized while belaying on the ledge, letting Scott lead the hard part. He encouraged me by taking a long time getting over the spot where I had fallen. More scarey nailing and free climbing took him to the top of Black Tower by late afternoon. A quick look in the failing light convinced him that Black Tower was up against a wall — a blank wall, that is. At least there was a large ledge fifty feet below him. We celebrated the ledge and the exceptionally fine weather by gorging on Hi-C, carroway cheese, and a cucumber.

The sixth day I led up a thin crack-system around the right side of Black Tower. Scott nailed a rotten, wet, overhanging, wide crack. Half-way up, a tiny tied-off root broke. He dropped our only four-inch bong as he fell. Two bolts got him back past the missing bush and on up to a hanging belay. I climbed an endless four-inch jam-crack without the protection of the four-inch bong. The sun set as I struggled. There was a stance but no anchor 150 feet up. Two bolts secured our fourth hammock bivouac, a bad one since my feet were in Scott’s mouth all night.

In the morning we both pretended to be asleep until long after the sun was up. Finally, when we could not fool ourselves any longer, we sat up and discussed the route. Scott’s pitch, to the top of a white tower, was obvious. We called it “Tower to the People”. But the pitch beyond seemed to have no cracks. The crack we had spotted from the ground, running right to a huge triangular roof, turned out to be a useless seam. Finally Scott decided that I could nail a series of flakes and roofs up and left to the start of a thin crack leading back right. I was not convinced, but tried anyhow. The first few pins were the worst. As I moved onto the second smashed aluminum block in a row, Scott quietly moved the belay to one side. Half a day later, after struggling with awkward, expanding, left- handed nailing all the way, I placed two belay bolts 150 feet up. Scott placed our twenty-seventh bolt to reach a difficult-looking traverse crack; then we returned to Tower to the People for the night.

Taking advantage of the ledge, we emptied the haul-bags and checked our supplies. We had blown it. With only 500 feet to go, we had four gallons of water left over, plus a pound or two of food. We ate a pleasant meal and drank our fill, but played safe by not dumping the excess.

Up early, we planned to go for the summit. Scott led across the horrible traverse. Only A2, but we called it the “A5 Traverse” to make our route sound like the other El Cap routes. A pendulum from a smashie at the end of the traverse took him to a belay spot in the final gray dihedral. It was Fat City. Three pitches of easy mixed climbing followed. We were on the rim by late afternoon.

Then the real problems began. Since we had not advertised the climb, no one hiked up to meet us and help us carry everything down. We finished the food, packed the gear into the two huge haul bags, and trucked off into the sunset. We consoled ourselves by mumbling that the descent should really be a part of the climb anyhow. Soon we were lost in the dark. After a few hours of stumbling through streams, brush, and soft snow, we decided to bivouac again. We sat around a roaring fire drying our shoes. “Man, that was just like being dead for a week,” Scott remarked. Slowly our plans for the next few weeks materialized: Peanut butter and jelly in the Valley, a huge dinner at Scott’s Grandmother’s, camping trips, fun free climbs, and other delights best left to the imagination.

Summary of Statistics:

AREA: Yosemite Valley, California.

NEW ROUTE: Heart Route, Southwest Face of El Capitan, April 4 to 11, 1970. Charles Kroger, Scott Davis. NCCS VI, F9, A4.