Dragging your mom to the crag can definitely be a little awkward. Things can take longer than expected, and then she’s just hanging out waiting. But I suppose she’s used to it by now. I started climbing before I could drive, and as our ride, she’d often end up waiting at the base while my brother and I sorted out whatever situation we’d climbed ourselves into.
I have a history of parents at the crag. And no, they are not climbers. I usually dragged them there. But sometimes our objectives overlapped. Like when our dad took us to the Valley. I wandered out of Curry Village to the nearest wall, saw some bolts, and started up. At the time, proximity was the number one criteria for route selection. My dad, convinced that Robin was too light to effectively catch me, insisted that he step in and take over belaying while Robin coached him. Robin had already caught me several times by then, but I guess I get where he was coming from. And a trip to Yosemite was a nice change from having to beg for rides to the local top rope crag.
Luckily for my brother and I, my mom was especially drawn to climbing spots. Not the classic historical ones, but steep ravine swimming holes in the sierra, and the red cliffs of the southwest. So we’d just head off from wherever we camped, spot the nearest wall, and make an attempt. Guidebooks (and cams) were out of our price range, so we’d just improvise. Sometimes we’d hit the gift shop and memorize a few pages of a book. I’d try to sniff out 5.8 A0 routes, cause I felt comfortable running out the 5.8 with our minimal rack, and then I could try-hard on the bolted aid sections. So my mom has spent plenty of time waiting for Robin and I to get back down. But despite that history, I was hoping the Bastille Crack would go quicker, but, ya know, rock climbing often has other plans.
We got a late start because we were still tired from the day before (see: Rewritten). Got to the canyon and walked up to claim second place in line immediately after a party of three that was just tying in. Emma sussed it quickly; a guide (or a friend), who was explaining how to climb rock, how to clean, and on/off belay. Plus their 30m twins meant they’d be doing the full five pitches… Ok, I guess we’re settling in.
Another team (from Kansas City) lined up after us, but they quickly shifted their sights to Werk Supp. Then another party of three showed up behind us, settled in to wait, but abruptly bailed after a member of their party had an accident while scrambling around the creek-side of the base. Emma did her due diligence as a first responder, but they seemed fully skilled themselves and quickly opted to go seek care. Definitely a rattly way for us to start our climb. And such a bummer for them to end their trip like that. We hadn’t even left the ground yet, and the day was feeling like a lot.
Shaking it off, we started up. The polished foot-knob at the step-across was just about the glassiest thing I’d ever stepped on. First crux was fine, just a bit balancey. Decent pro throughout, but the moves felt stout and a bit heads up, but maybe that was due to the exhaustion and soreness from yesterday (see: Rewritten). Either way, our first pitch (1+2) required some creativity and problem solving. Use the face of the flake, or jam the inside of the crack? Kinda have have to figure it out as you go. I felt slow enough that I was almost glad the other party bailed, but then I felt bad for thinking that and wished instead they were breathing down our necks instead of navigating some hospital waiting room.
Emma definitely struggled on the first pitch. She maintains its 5.8, which I might give it if you sent me up it with no context. Maybe it is a sandbag at 5.7, but I’d also be curious how it feels if we were fresh. There was a swallow nest in the crack at the fixed pin. They kept diving in and out, and the babies would sometimes scream for food, which got noisy. They definitely seemed completely indifferent to our presence. My mom kept photo-bombing our photos (on the road, and creekside cave). Tired and discouraged was the vibe on the ledge, so I was eager to move on. At this point I was fatigued and just wanted to be done.
The next pitch was fantastic. Jams, layback, stem, just really good, technical climbing. The ledge up top didn’t inspire me, so despite promising Emma a short pitch, I pushed on through the traverse. Which was easy, but didn’t offer much in the way of protection. Some of the blocks here are really just hanging out and resting, held in place only by mass and their interlocked positions. Turning the corner felt harder than it actually was, but as I headed upward the climbing got really good. The nerves caused by exhaustion and the jangly blocky terrain were overcome by great movement and creative maneuvering. I was pretty hyped when I arrived at the ramp for the belay. I suspected I had enough rope left to get to the top, but opted against. The deep shade on the ramp was too good to pass up. Emma followed quickly and we snacked and rested in good spirits, knowing that the end was within reach. Also because the previous pitch was so much fun.
Easy chimney to the top. Slung the cable for the anchor and Emma followed. A quick break to organize and pack up in the intense sun, and we were off. The first part of the descent with the cable was alright. But Emma quickly learned that she (like many sensible people) really doesn’t like Via ferrata. I get it, something about it feels abstract and disconnected. And thinking about falling onto a static tether definitely makes me want to stop thinking about it.
After the cable, a few sketchy sections kept us on our toes. Mostly step-across type stuff, but there was one very exposed down climb. We opted to rig the mega-runner as an aid ladder to climb down a section that was more difficult but less exposed. There was also a very secure, but awkward squeeze section, that made managing the backpack difficult. You could probably walk along the upper/outer part, but I suspect that’s for Coloradans only. Some butt-scooting and reasonable downclimbing brought us to the trail. At first sight, the Bastille descent stairs were a nightmarish disaster zone, but after completing them, they were alright. (Nothing like the new stairs at the leap.) Back to the base later than we had hoped, so we hightailed for the BBQ joint, and got some takeout just as the place was closing. A great end to the climbing part of our trip.
The Bastille Crack
5.7 – Five pitches – 350′
with Emma
P1 + P2, P3 + P4, P5
Stoppers x2, doubles .3 – 3
Careful on the first crux (ground fall potential, at first gear)
Probably don’t place in the traverse
Our pitchout worked really well
Descent is fine (I guess). Recentish fatality, so be cautious.
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