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El Cap / Half Dome Link Up Trip Report

Original Post
Alain De la Tejera · · Riverside, CA · Joined Apr 2013 · Points: 172

Hey Everyone ( who reads this ),

Friends were persistent and asked me to write a trip report regarding the El Cap and Half-Dome Link Up that was completed by Jesse Ray Nichols and myself last summer. They eventually stopped asking seeing as how I was lazy about it and a lot of stuff has occurred in the last six months due to a free-solo fall( that's another story to write about )so the grand majority of the content was written before the accident, making only slight edits after, such as fixing akward word usage. El Cap was completed first and Half-Dome after. In retrospect, I would have flipped the walls around to cut a huge chunk of time but alas, it doesn't matter now. The experience, regardless of how it went down, was a truly surreal adventure that was shared with one of my best friends and climbing partners, Jesse Ray Nichols. This is my first "official" trip report with most written in October of last year. yay! Enjoy!

Upon my first week of living in Yosemite Valley for my third straight summer, on June 17th, 2014, my roommate Michael Rael and I decided to practice for the link-up. We made a time of 3:57 to Dolt Tower and 7 hours to Eagle Ledge. I was distrought at the time. Really? What did I do wrong I asked myself? 4 hours to Dolt Tower. The year before a friend and I made it in 3 hours and 22 minutes for our first attempt at "speed climbing"...not having the slightest clue what we were doing. Alas...I viewed it as a rust-buster. I had slightly strained a back muscle during the practice run and my fitness was obvious, it was not there. Much preparation was to be done.

First Link-Up Practice to Eagle Ledge Photo by Tom Evans

In the next month, work began to develop a nice, steady base of aerobic fitness by running through the woods of Tenaya Canyon several times a week, climbing some long moderate lines and setting up a fixed line on a climb called The Phoenix. Most of the time was spent at the Phoenix. I thought it could resemble my mileage days at the Riverside Quarry, albeit with a much nicer location, by running laps with a few minutes rest in between. After three or so weeks, I had managed to climb The Phoenix clean, no falls, from the start, three times on a micro-traxion with 10 minutes rest between each lap. I was hoping to resemble an interval workout that a track runner would do to improve his lactate threshold, which is what I do at home in Riverside. My fitness was returning quite nicely.

After feeling in shape and rejuvenated, I climbed Half Dome with Steven Oxley in a bit over 12 hours, all to try and re-learn the route and remember gear beta per pitch as I had climbed it three years earlier during my 2nd or 3rd (?) year of climbing, as there was no emphasis on “speed”, rather memorization of the route itself. Most was free-climbed to 5.12a.

Andrew Vaughn on the 5.10c finger-crack that just blew off Half Dome!

Returning again two weeks later with Andrew Vaughn, we completed Half-Dome in 8 hours and 50 minutes, pitching it out at a comfortable pace and free-climbing most once again. Having tried to free-climb the slab pitch, I had learned the free variation goes straight up, whereas this whole time I tried to free-climbing the traverse that veers left. Fail.

Andrew Vaughn on the first of the Zig-Zags

Now….the problem herein lies my lack of a consistent training partner. In July I had climbed Half-Dome twice and had not done any more practice runs on the Nose since I had arrived in the Valley. Michael Rael, my original partner for the link-up, had different work schedules that never quite lined up. Yet it had become Andrew Vaughn that had become my main training partner, for which I am truly grateful for, but my thoughts were now bouncing back and forth about possibly having Andrew come up with me on Half-Dome and someone else for The Nose of El Capitan. Are link-ups ever done in that fashion? This is the one thing I craved all summer was a consistent partner who would be able to work and to complete the link-up.

When I couldn’t find a partner, as was often the case, I thought I could try searching for other projects, so I picked one called Cosmic Debris, a short and powerful finger crack with no feet which clocks in at 5.13b. The Phoenix was my first project ever and I thought I should try another one, feeling my fitness had me feeling very confident that this climb could be done quickly. Having climbed three laps on it with Miranda Oakley with two falls, two falls and one fall on TR and another time with Taleen Kennedy, almost getting it clean while self-belaying on a grigri, I was sure the excitement of leading would help me get the redpoint on the climb. Feeling in shape again and feeling the benefits of the mileage I had accumulated during the fall and winter months. Because this was going so well, I got excited to try and freeclimb the Salathe headwall on El Capitan three separate times as well. Similar grades so why not? I didn’t care about redpointing it more so than feeling the excitement of just thinking that I can possibly free-climb parts of it. This summer became more of a self-discovery of what seemed possible. Or maybe I am just imagining things and naively trying these things out? Surprisingly, it was coming together, never did get a chance to work the 5.13b layback section that comes out of the pod.

Hanging out alone on the Salathe Headwall having worked the 5.13a crack. Its hard once it curves left.

Who knows? This was all something I never would have ever thought possible when I first started climbing. I originally joined climbing as conditioning for my marathon-training, never imagining doing El Capitan in a day, or much less both El Capitan AND then Half-Dome. Awesome! I began to get really excited at the possibilities of trying these things. Though I began to think after a while;

“Am I getting too sidetracked from the link-up to focus on all these other side-projects?”

So in an effort to refocus on the link-up, I dropped the idea of climbing the Salathe Headwall and thought I could rush to get the redpoint on Cosmic Debris, which I did feel was very possible. It was a stupid way of thinking, but the reality was that I was getting very excited that these things can possibly be done. Exciting stuff!!! Super happy and excited more than anything else to see what COULD be done. On August, 7th, 2014, I went for the lead despite all the warning signs that I shouldn’t have. My excitement for potentially sending this climb was clogging my logic. A recent wave of thunderstorms had created disgusting humidity in the air and the idea of “rushing” the redpoint were not the smartest decisions I had made. During the lead, my once-solid movements, felt greasy, sweaty, disgusting and almost desperate. I had greased out mid-climb, due to the excessive sweat from the humid temps, I blew a piece I had put in, fell on a fixed nut and slightly hit the ledge. Impatient with myself, there was this feeling of shock that THAT shouldn't have happened. Feeling confident for the redpoint, I jumped back on immediately on lead after hitting the ledge and fell one time at the start where I had never fallen before, and twice near the very top. I was upset, feeling I should have waited for the "right time" during these shitty temps, yet this was the result of just being overly excited... and boy, was I excited to just go for it not thinking about these factors. You live and learn, I guess.

Greasy finger-locks on Cosmic Debris

Unfortunately, the next morning I awoke to the horror of seeing my right hand swollen, presumably from the fall, and was forced to take a break for the next two weeks. Time was running out before I had to return home, and my preparation for the link-up felt very sub-par.

“I have not even done NIAD yet. That was part of the plan. Do that several times before attempting the Link-Up.”, I kept telling myself.

“Only 4 weeks left….”

“Who am I going to climb this with?”

“What am I doing?”

The intention for the link-up was to climb it with my amazing, supportive and incredibly compassionate roommate, Michael Rael. We call him "Psyche Mike" in the valley. Our different work schedules posed a real challenge to working on the link-up together. Yet there was a looming influence over my shoulder, someone else, that tried to persuade me to climb the link-up with him since the start of summer, yet it was never truly considered because of my commitment with Mike. The figure in question is a friend named Jesse Ray Nichols. An incredibly intuitive and smart young man, a purveyor of Science with an inquisitive mind, Jesse has always had a "go-for-it" mentality, which is what I loved. A moderately strong climber, it is his mental strength that separates him above most people.

I noticed this impressive attribute in 2012 when I was scouting a climbing partner to go to Moab, Utah with.

Jesses first trad climb two years prior, a 5.9 at Wall Street in Moab, Utah

I had met Jesse whom had just finished an ultra-marathon on no conditioning or proper preparation. He just flat out ran 50 or so miles and completed an ultra-marathon. I recall Steph Davis doing something similar in her book "Higher Infatuation" to build "mental toughness".

The correlation, in my eyes, spoke a lot about the heart of the individual and their capabilities should their heart be committed to any objective they strive for.

It so happened that Jesse had also moved to live and work in Yosemite...and where our unlikely pairing transcended.

Jesse and I had both just started our second and third summer working and living in Yosemite but because of scheduling conflicts, we were never able to climb together, which added another frustration to finding a partner to work the link-up with. So as time throughout the summer passed by, Jesse had seen my frustrations as my short time in the valley was coming to an end. He half-jokingly asked,

“Hey...let’s do the link-up together.”

And I say half-jokingly because I knew there was truth to it. I was hesitant once again, as I was all summer, because I had committed to someone else. Ah, the perils of climbing “relationships”. My intention was to climb it with psyche Mike but I knew deep down, our conflicting schedules made this next to impossible. Pressed for time, I hesitantly committed to doing the link-up with Jesse. This motivated me to just "go for it" with him as my time here in the Valley was running out. I practiced once with Psyche Mike, and twice on Half-Dome with Steven Oxley and Andrew Vaughn. As you can probably figure out, this commitment with Jesse was more of a spontaneous decision as I decided to climb the link-up with him about a week after our agreement. As Jesse later notes, it may have very well been the powers that be that had made the decision to climb with him, sealed in fate, the day we climbed for the first time together 3 years ago. To use Jesse’s words, it was the “perfect story.”

Jesse later writes,

“I guess this is where I come in with my side. The side where I say that Alain knew that I would be climbing with him because it was the perfect story. For he was one of my first climbing partners, he had taken me on some of my first trips 3 years prior, and then this goofy, inspirational teacher would teach me to plug gear ( while climbing my first desert towers in total eager, Alain style), who later got me thinking to work in yosemite, and now we, 3 years later, would re-unite as partners after years of conflicting schedules to climb this fucking link-up.”

And so it happened. Jesse Ray Nichols and Alain De la Tejera had decided to team up to do the Link-Up, without any prior practice runs, practice climbs or working of logistics beforehand. Just a “go-for-it” mentality to climb “this fucking link-up”.

Three days later...

As the day of our attempt would loom ever closer, Jesse had ridden his bike to my tent to call into question the possibility of the link-up. "Maybe a NIAD would be more feasible.", he stated with a solemn quiver in his voice. Sensing doubt and worry, shockingly might I add, I agreed to only climb El Capitan in a day with him on the Thursday of our attempt, to relieve any pressure that he has been feeling. Let me add that in my mind, I had planned to set our NIAD in a quick time, to set up the possibility of adding Half-Dome in the mix, just in case we were both feeling up to it. I thought,

“If we climb El Capitan fast enough, I can try and convince Jesse to continue on with Half-Dome. Jesse would not suspect a thing. Dude...the perfect crime. ”

Knowing Jesse, if we both felt good at the top, there is no doubt in my mind he would want to go for it. Now in great shape, NIAD was then calculated to be completed in 11 hours comfortably.

And so the day to the link-up loomed ever closer…

The day prior to our NIAD attempt, gear was organized, food was bought, water was stored, all by 3 p.m. Our preparation of gear felt too perfect. The rest of the day would be a perfect opportunity to lounge around and catch up on emails. On that evening, my girlfriend had sent me an email letting me know how the students of my club have been progressing. It was probably the worst thing that could have happened because of the excitement of it all. Back at home, the climbing club was still training at our local indoor climbing gym. Steven Vanderburg was working a 5.12a with my cousin, whom I had asked to help my students alongside my little brother while I was gone for the summer. Lucy Brito has been leading and led a 5.11c. I became ecstatic and filled with excitement. My future climbing partners are developing quite nicely. Although this was received wonderfully, that burst of excitement prevented me from going to sleep as easily as I thought I would as thoughts of their progression ran through my mind throughout the night.

Our alarm is set for 2:30 a.m. and its now 11 p.m. I really hate how no matter how hard I try, sleeping early is never something I have been good at. The thought of having only 3.5 hours of sleep before and climbing over 3,000 vertical feet did not sound like a lot of fun. I am sure many of you can relate.

El Capitan in all its splendor. A NIAD attempt was missing in preparation for the link-up.

The morning of...

My alarm does not go off, rather it was my roommate Mike Rael who, as psyched as always, comes barging into the tent to turn on the light and wake me up. Surprisingly, I felt pretty psyched, presumably from the contagious energy that Mike transmits to anyone and everyone he is around. Mike has always been a vibrant ball of positive energy, always the optimist in even the most dire of circumstance. Jesse shows up 30 minutes later, all the while I am organizing and readying the gear. Jesse and I load up our gear in his Sprinter Van and drive to El Cap Meadow. We walked toward the base of The Nose soloing up Pine-Line, headlamps on, to the start of the first pitch. After we are geared up and ready, we look at our watch and it is 4:15 a.m. With a nervous chill running through my body, I was eager to start but Jesse, enjoying the counter-culture of the official start time, insisted we wait another five minutes.

4:20 a.m. is the official start time and the official finish time for Jesse’s first marathon. The symbolism behind the number relaxed me a bit as I understood the counter-culture significance of it. I laughed knowing that this may be the official time I may want to do future link-ups, to keep to the tradition of Jesse’s celebratory completion of his first marathon.

4:20 a.m. hits... We begin…(rough draft...clean up alot)

I was pretty aggravated the first four pitches, not because I wasn’t feeling good, but because I felt I had forgotten all the gear beta and movement, frustration already mounting because of what I imagined was a slow start. Last time I had practiced anything on the Nose was two months prior and I was pretty hard on myself thinking that run didn’t go so well either.

We reached the fourth pitch in 51 minutes. Jesse and I had reached Sickle in one hour. I tried to tell myself that the first four pitches, regardless of how terrible I felt I was doing them, was a warm-up, deciding to pick up the pace a bit. One piece of gear in each of the Stovelegs, and a clip on a fixed cam, brought us to the top of Dolt Tower in 2 hrs. and 28 minutes. I had thought that maybe reaching Dolt Tower could be done in 2 hrs. and 10 minutes, time lost in the first four pitches for sure. Regardless, from Dolt Tower we began to simul climb. I placed no protection on the pitch after Eagle Ledge so Jesse can jumar outside the Texas Flake.

Video Link of King Swing en route

youtube.com/watch?v=wSoV9MzM0XU

We reached Eagle Ledge in 3 hrs. 55 minutes and already 3 hours faster than my first Eagle Run at the start of the season yet slower than I was aiming for. Jesse takes the lead and we reach the base of the Great Roof in 5 hrs. 10 minutes, which is about the halfway point with regards to time, not distance. Hitting the 10 hour mark was very real.

Below "The Great Roof"

The set-up was perfect, yet by this time, I was telling myself to remain patient and maintain the pace. An unfortunate turn of events was realized when we saw that we had no small cams to aid through the Roof or the Glowering Spot. We had forgotten them back at our tent!!!!

Jesse aided the Great Roof and his recent knowledge of the route ( he did the Nose in 2 days just a week prior ) yielded quick results. I wanted to free climb the 5.11d prior to the roof but Jesse had short-fixed and resumed The Pancake Flake on the 21st pitch. I was quite proud to see him go for it, but i knew this was going to keep me from wanting to freeclimb the 5.11c section right after the Pancake Flake. I eventually got my wish as Jesse had ran out of gear and I asked him to put me on belay for the 5.11a awkward chimney/finger crack, thinking that freeing this section rather than aid it would prove much quicker the next NIAD run, which was my intention of wanting to free-climb those sections. It was a great pitch to free and one I will definitely avoid aiding the next time up. I resume the lead on the "Glowering Spot" but with great hesitation because truth is...I HATE aid climbing. It is unnerving, scary and a total mind game. It also did not help that we did hardly any small gear to help aid this dreaded pitch. It went terribly slow.

Jesse, sensing my unnerving of this pitch, would casually spout out sarcasm in an effort to annoy me.

“Aid-climbing sucks.. This is stupid.” I would yell.

“"Does aid climbing suck or do you suck at aid climbing?", replies Jesse with a sincere laugh at my frustation.

"I love being able to relax here".

I was actually really upset at this pitch because of the lack of gear protecting me.

Jesse below The Glowering Spot

I had NO solid gear I could trust for the first half of the pitch. As soon as I placed my first SOLID piece, all my nerves disappeared. :) I short-fixed Jesse and decided to ride the death loop up the 5.11b overhanging thin hands that followed. I had a small red link cam that I used to get into the crack and free-climbed to the end of the line which is about 90 or 100 ft. with the red link-cam as my only piece of protection. Higher up, I clipped a bolt and cruised up to Camp 6. Jesse led the Changing Corners pitch and fixes the rope for me to jug up and as I did, in some unexpected turn of events, the rope got caught. It was a real pain and slowed the momentum a bit. Jesse had to rappel and get the rope unstuck. As he jugged back up, I free-climbed most of the 5.10d pitches that followed, occasionally using a yellow link-cam to reposition my body to get into the crack as comfortably as possible. The 5.10c pitch below the final bolt ladder had a couple of French free climbing moves and the Bolt Ladder went stupidly slow for me. I really need to learn this stuff better. As Jesse jugged up, we topped out in 11 hours and 10 minutes. I thought 10 hours and change was in the bag. Regardless, we both felt good and completed our first NIAD. This was the interesting part of the whole trip.

"Jesse, that was awesome. Im pretty excited and feel pretty good about our climb." I casually told him.

"I feel good too." Jesse responds with a witty smile.

As we make our way the descent, the grandeur presence of Half Dome was staring at us, beckoning and commanding our attention wherever we looked.

"Hey Jesse, we should just go and do Half-Dome"

As our descent speed would gradually quicken, Jesse would dart through the woods with lightening quick speed. You could tell he was ecstatic for the link-up. Why not? We were in high spirits and felt great about our prospects. As we reached the van back in the valley floor, we noticed a few inconveniences.

The unfortunate part of this transition was the lack of preparedness we had following El Capitan. I did not have my meal loaded in the van like I should have. Instead I was left to get it from my tent back in Curry Village. My headlamp was not fully charged and my bike that we had planned to ride to Mirror Lake before starting the hike had a flat. As we parked in Curry Village, I quickly walked to Boystown and saw and spoke with many friends along the way.

Friends were asking questions and I was hesitant to elude anyone, asking everyone I came across if I could borrow their bike. Finally, a friend insisted that I take his.

"Success."

A quick re-organization of gear and Jesse and I ride the 1.2 mile road to Mirror Lake, where we would park our bikes and head up the Death Slabs and toward the face of Half Dome. Surprisingly, we were still full of energy and the approach up the Death Slabs took a mere 1 hr. and 35 minutes. As soon as we got to the Base of Half-Dome, we took a 10 minute rest, racked up and I headed up the first pitch without a belay. About half-way, Jesse puts me on belay as I started plugging gear and make my way up the 160 feet pitch. I noticed fatigue was kicking in as I put a bit more gear than I normally would. Fresh, I remember placing only two pieces of pro on the entire pitch, this time I am finding myself plugging more than usual. The second and third pitch go with only a couple of quickdraws clipped into fixed gear.

  • **Jesse***

And here is where our shit-show begins. I had felt good in the legs but the overall body fatigue was setting in, also a heavy dose of drowsiness from the lack of sleep was making it a tiresome affair to stay positive and keep eating and drinking. It was knowing that sugar is fuel and fuel makes you go up that handfuls of raisins where going down my mouth and a yearning for the banana smoothie I left in the boystown kitchen in my rushed wall transition was rolling in my head. Jugging became a blur of dark granite as I would gas it up the long pitches seemingly blinking and arriving at a another belay. This was disorienting enough, add on the long time since doing the route and this equals that my mental topo blew away in a green haze in the year since.

“The light on my headlamp is unusually dim.”

“How is Jesse feeling?”

“Just keep going. Keep going.”

On the fourth pitch, there is a bolt ladder that I somehow had trouble doing, feeling pretty pathetic of my slow movement as I feel I always do with aid-climbing. Excitement re-arose when I managed to get into the right-leaning crack that ensues, where I quickly returned to autopilot, free-climbing the rest of the pitch with only a single piece of pro. The next pitch is a 5.9 and no protection was left behind, just a nice straight fixed line for Jesse to Jug. With this second wind, I was hoping to carry the momentum until the end.

Then it went dark.

A moment of shock ran through my veins as I became blinded by darkness. The batteries on my headlamp had just run out. I was in the gully leading up to the Robbins' Traverse when this occurred. It was almost pitch black with a bit of starlight casting some sort of light to "direct my way". I could not notice the color of my cams or the footholds or crack sizes. Were they hand cracks? Finger cracks? Everything went dark. What color were my cams? My mind was confused and trying to grasp the reality of the situation. At this moment I was beginning to worry how this would affect Jesse and I as I couldn’t see a thing. I was now blind and now in the middle of the easiest pitch, at least when you can see. An unfortunate situation had presented itself...

“Where are the feet?”

“Where are the hand cracks?”

“What cam am I grabbing for?”

“How is Jesse feeling?”

““Where the fuck are the feet, the holds?”

It would take time for my eyes to adjust as much as they possibly could, feeling blindly for cracks, for feet, trying my hardest to be accepting and “simply” adjusting to the circumstance.

Denial.

“It’s ok, we still got it.”

Unaccepting of reality.

“This is not a big deal”

The climbing was far from fluid anymore. It was sloppy, blind and nerves had begun to creep their way in. I would have to “feel” the darkness to find a jam. Reaching the anchor on pitch 10, I was looking very hard for the grigri and feeling around the disorganization of my gear to find it. Finally “feeling” our go-to belay device, putting Jesse on-belay proved to have much uncertainty in the process. Starlight was not even enough to make me feel super secure about putting Jesse on-belay. The state of denial was slowly paving the way to the acceptance of reality...

I was blinded by darkness. This is not safe. This is dangerous.

During this moment, many thoughts ran through my head and the only sound I could hear is Jesse breathing as he climbs to me and the sound of metal jingling along his side. A million thoughts would enter my mind during the short time it takes Jesse to reach me. Time would stand still momentarily as I would stare into Yosemite Valley as I am perched on a ledge 3,000 feet above the valley floor and another 1,000 feet of climbing to go. My eyes were fixated at the illuminating lights that were shining from within Yosemite Village, my body chilled by the slight breeze brushing against it, my mind was beginning to accept the conundrum that would eventually slow all momentum of our ascent. As if thoughts were finally able to enter my mind now that I have taken a moment to think…everything else up to this point, climbing had been on autopilot.

“This can’t be happening. Absolutely ridiculous...”

I was becoming angry at myself...

“This is dangerous.”

“I can’t see a thing.”

I continue to hear the sound of metal jingling and the heavy breathing demonstrative of Jesse’s ongoing resilience. Ever the determined fighter, Jesse was climbing closer to the end of the pitch, yet my mind had felt like the breaks of our momentum had suddenly been put on halt, continually turning my head toward the next hundred feet of climbing to see the darkness that loomed ahead. It was a mental break, a sudden halt of momentum to an otherwise irrefutable calamity. At the same time, accepting the reality had proven to be incredibly difficult.

Jesse reaches the anchor and I ask him to take the sharp end through the Chimney’s. Jesse is appeared to be full of life and energy as we organize the rack, now that I have light to do so using his headlamp. His abundance of contagious energy attempts to re-ignite the flame that had been smothered by the heavy ashes of my unfortunate predicament. Jesse re-racks and heads up the first set of Chimney’s. I am once again sitting in darkness overlooking the lights of Yosemite Village, somehow feeling completely alone for the first time.

It was midnight.

A sudden and continuous pause of rope being fed through the device and my thoughts pause momentarily as I become curious as to the next series of events that are unfolding.

I hear Jesse asking...

“Is this ( such and such ) the way?”

“I don't’ know how to tell you from down here," were the exchange of words between us.

I could not make out what was going on.

All I see is the light from the headlamp swaying left and right, evidence of a lost climber.

It was evident to me that Jesse had no idea where he was going. Even his incredible tenacity and unwavering mental strength can’t replace one’s knowledge of the route. Later I found out that Jesse had only done this route one time and a year ago. That momentum hit hard, was regained and was hit even harder.

As I followed, I tried to free-climb on Jesse’s fixed line while self-belaying on a jumar, I was unsure of all gear I was pulling out, questioning whether I was leaving behind our own gear or whether I had reached the many fixed pieces that were in abundance on this climb. I could not tell. The rope became consistently caught in cracks where I would have to rappel back down and get the rope-unstuck time and again. It was dark, it was impossible to see, to organize or even know what I was doing. As I climbed I was continuing to “feel” around for cracks to put hand-jams in or fingerlocks in. Pulling on the unknown, blindly, desperation and frustration increasing slowly with every inch of progress. The calm and determined state of focus I have had to this point was now turning into impatience, anger and frustration…

“WHO does this?”, I began to ask myself while climbing sloppy and with terrible technique. The darkness seemed to be throwing more hurdles our way. Stuck ropes again, and again, and again...

I do not recall how often I had to rappel to continuously get ropes unstuck, or how often I thought I had “left gear behind”, climbing hesitantly under the impression that I was leaving all that beautiful gear. I recall exactly the level of frustration and discomfort I had, the sudden irrelevance of time in my mind and the tremendous need of light I never imagined I would ever have, coming only at a time when blindly climbing your second Big Wall in a day and in the middle of the night without being able to see.

The thousands of nerves and desperate emotions, fortunately, were only during the six or seven pitches, a short block of climbing, but the time it took to complete them felt an eternity.

It is 2 a.m.

I reach Jesse who is laying down. Did I take that long? 2 hours to climb three pitches? I shook my head in disbelief. I imagined Jesse was asleep on a tiny ledge a few feet above the anchor. I recall hearing a mumble but I felt no rush in trying to wake up my climbing partner, who I had imagined was sleeping heavily. Climbing in the darkness and seeing my beloved friend asleep easily helped make the decision for me to relax, stare out into the dark abyss and look down toward the tiny lights of Yosemite Village. It was a battle between my heart and mind, with the former wanting to carry on but the latter knowing that continuing in the dark would continue to prove challenging.

“The momentum had stopped to a halt.”

And so I curl up...telling myself that it would be easier to just wait for the sun to come up…

...and so I wait…

At that moment, I lay curled on a tiny ledge in the middle of a giant 2,000 ft. wall, precariously curled up in a ball and overlooking the valley, I recall thinking of my climbing students back home at this very moment, comfortably sleeping in their beds, resting to wake up early morning to make it to school the next day. Munching on their Coco Puffs and Fruity Pebbles as they make haste to arrive on-time to their first period class. Oh the life of routine and relative comfort and here Jesse and I are, high up on a giant wall in the middle of the night. Oh the life of the adventurous rock-climber.

Despite the last painstakingly few hours of night-climbing without a headlamp, I was very much in awe at the reality of the situation and everything completed the previous 23 hours. Despite the allure adn reality of this amazing adventure, there was a hint of bitterness against the sun for taking it’s time to rise beyond the horizon. My mind was overwhelmed by what Jesse and I are doing and why. Would my new climbing partners back home understand when I explain to them the feelings of amazement/disbelief/discomfort/excitement that I was feeling after everything that has transpired to this point, as I lay curled in a futile attempt to try and sleep? Would anyone at home believe me or even understand? How can I tell my co-workers, other teachers, and my principal of the surreal experience Jesse and I have lived through, and in a manner that may offer some sort of perspective on the reality of the situation? The feeling is incomprehensible as I, to this day, attempt to comprehend all that took place during these 28 hours. What Jesse and I are experiencing is proudly shared by a very exclusive minority of climbers whom we always viewed as possessing an incredible mental will to push their bodies as much as possible, in an attempt to complete these ridiculous climbing objectives. Climbing walls so big that the human mind can barely grasp the suffering required, yet alone comprehend what it entails to complete. I repeatedly asked myself,

“Why do we do this?”

Only to answer my own question by telling myself, “Because it makes you live.”

I continue to stare out...recalling slightly fading in and out of sleep while my body shivered in the cool breeze that flowed...not sure if I was ever sleeping...staring out into the night sky at those moments when I consciously knew I was awake, trying to capture the image of thousands of luminescent stars shining brightly in the sky, knowing that I would never see them quite like this at home.

It was during this moment of deep transcendence when I heard a faint whistle. There was a moment of uncertainty as to the authenticity of the sound, as to whether it was real or not, just as I was not sure if I was ever sleeping. I was simultaneously asking the sun when it would begin to rise over the horizon to provide the light I very much needed to light our way to the summit.

“Hurry up, sun.”

Moments later I hear the whistle again, presumably coming from Jesse who is also curled up on a ledge 15 feet above me. As I maintained my curled position with my arms crossed under my armpits in an attempt to stay warm, I continuously roll back and forth and then over to my side, facing away from the wall and once again back onto the lights of Yosemite Valley. Time felt as it had stood still.

Jesse continues his faint whistling. It was perhaps the strangest moment of the whole experience because of my own inability to decipher whether the noise was a byproduct of hallucinations or whether it was real.

I hear the whistle again….

“Jesse?”, I asked, almost hoping that he wouldn’t hear me in an effort to prolong my “rest” period.

“Yeah, dude. You up?”, Jesse replied.

Its a signal to get up and hesitantly, I do just that, struggling mightily, somehow convinced that laying curled up would be more comfortable than moving in my element, moving freely over the rock. As I stand up in the darkness with Jesse downclimbing with his headlamp on, my mind was still trying to process the situation we were in. It was time to continue moving. As Jesse begins to help me organize gear, the sound of and the touch of cold metal stimulating the senses, my partner hands me his headlamp.

Man, did it feel great to see again.

A quick re-rack and I lead the Double cracks pitch with a faint light, placing only 2 pieces of protection, feeling joyous at being given the gift of sight once again but knowing full-well that the momentum that had carried us here ended. I also felt guilt knowing Jesse was now climbing in the dark. It was futile by this point to try to cilmb for speed, instead, the motive was just to finish and climb pressure-free.

It was 3:45 a.m.

We reach the zig-zag pitches and meet two climbers from Southern California who, unknowingly at the time as I was leading the first of the zig-zag pitches, got Jesse to float above the clouds. This, during my now carefree, tired and joy-filled romp to the top.

It is 4:20 a.m. 24 hours have passed.

The next two pitches were climbed in the dark with the sun slowly rising behind us. Life has been brought back to us. It was truly amazing to see how much life has been brought by the beckoning of the sun upon our skin.

Jesse and I reach Thank-God Ledge, where to my shock and surprise, discovered Jesse undressing himself, becoming the first person in the history of climbing to really ever “free-solo” Half-Dome.

First Naked "Free-solo" on Half Dome

He wormed across Thank-God Ledge as he led the pitch and I casually followed, trying to enjoy what seemed like my last time up Half-Dome for the summer.

We topped out at 9 a.m. and were greeted with a jubilee of exuberant tourists. Taking pictures with, answering questions and educating them on the uses of climbing gear.

Approximately 28 hours later we finish.

As I looked at my surprisingly energetic partner, I could not help but realize that we both indeed climbed El Capitan and then climbed Half-Dome right after. I felt a sense of jubilation, of triumph and of extreme pride. It wasn’t under 24 hours but considering the circumstance, none of us cared. The idea of climbing two big walls back-to-back was an idea that neither of us had ever thought possible when we first started to climb. We were gym rats, blending into the multitude of boulderers and sport-climbers within our beloved and cherished southern california climbing community. But the idea of climbing El Capitan AND THEN Half-Dome right after is something that is still sinking in.

“Dude...we just climbed the link-up", Jesse told me as we looked at the view that each hiker and climber are rewarded with at the top.

I was super proud of Jesse because it was the resilience and unwavering strength of his mind that brought him to the summit of both these walls. In the world of big-walling, the mind is much more prevalent than your free-climbing ability. He was taught to trad climb 2 years before and only a short while after I learned how to trad climb. Heck, I was proud of both of us.

When I laid on the floor, munching on a chicken teriyaki burger from Mcdonalds that a tourist had given me, I chuckled because my students were probably in their second period class, struggling to stay awake.

Climbing in the dark is no fun but finishing felt so amazing!

I laughed at the idea because here Jesse and I were, having climbed over 5,000 vertical feet, hiked several miles and with many more hours of hiking to go, having been awake for about 30 hours and we both felt great and energetic but incredibly thirsty and hungry. If someday I can open their eyes to the kind of adventures and kind of inspiration traveling, exploring, venturing into the outdoors and living a life of adventure brings, a life-achievement would be fulfilled.

We were feed an abundance of food from tourists, given loads of water and gatorade and received a hearty congratulations from almost everyone we saw on our way down the backside of Half-Dome. When asked what we had done, people would tease themselves and cringe because they are at the culmination of their 5 hour hike.

Tourists greeted us after we finished. :)

Jesse and I were in no rush to make it to the bottom. In fact, I had insisted that we relax and restore as much fuel to our bodies by eating what we possibly could from the treasure cove of food that was given to us. A quick power nap or two and we both descended down to the valley floor via the death slabs. Boy was it hot.

Upon reaching the bottom, many friends greeting us wherever we went and gave hugs, high-fives, spoke with us about how they were inspired by what we had done. It was emotional more for the warm reception that we received upon our arrival. We were both given some special words but these ones stood out the for me personally.

"You guys made me stop giving a shit about the petty stuff. You guys made me realize I need to get shit done." Aaron Pugh, a dear friend was quoted as saying when we did The Porch Swing during my last week in Yosemite. Aaron, like myself, sustained fatal injuries and is making great gains in recovery. He definitely is "getting shit done." :)

The amazing Aaron Pugh, enjoying a beautiful sunset atop Cathedral Peak.

“DUUUUUUUDE thats insane!!! El cap and Half dome two of the greatest climbs wow you're insanely awesome. I shake my head to think a guy like you isn't sponsored.” The three most inspiring climbing partners Ive had in my life are Jesse Ray, Andrew Vaughn and Lucy Brito, whom this quote is from. She unknowingly inspired me the night before the link-up with news of her vast improvements and strong mind back at home. It was always special and awesome to watch her and see for myself and others the potential she has. Later in December, upon finishing Levitation 29 in Red Rocks, I remember telling her " a sponsorship could never give me a Lucy or Steven ( another climbing pupil of mine.)"
Lucy Brito reviewing prior lessons on Moonlight Buttress in Zion.

"Alain has a way of dragging people into these things. I just wanted to do NIAD and also do Half Dome in a day car-to-car. We managed to do both,", Jesse says to friends at the valley floor with an impeccable smile.

Back home, Jesse and I had spoken on the phone. ““Thanks for believing in me.”

In the end, I calculated that we were both awake for 42 hours straight. I led 41 of the 56 pitches. If anything, I am more psyched than ever to do it again. And I know for a fact , with better preparation, it can go hours faster.

So I say goodnight to Jesse as we gave a warm and congratulatory embrace and went our seperate ways. I laid down on my bed, setting my alarm for 5 a.m. to get ready for work the next morning. I looked up at the ceiling of my tent and trying to go over what just transpired until my eyes closed and I feel asleep.

We just climbed the Link-Up.
Jan Tarculas · · Riverside, Ca · Joined Mar 2010 · Points: 917

Nice read Alain. Congrats again. hopefully I can get my lazy butt to start training some more do even try a big wall

Colin Simon · · Boulder, CO · Joined Jan 2009 · Points: 370

Good job!

My time on the linkup went very similarly - cruising the Nose and then spending a long night on Half Dome and watching the watch go past 24:00 with a couple pitches to go...

Alain De la Tejera · · Riverside, CA · Joined Apr 2013 · Points: 172

Thanks, Jan! Just do a lot of mileage at the Quarry. I thought that helped me log in some miles in Yosemite. Just skip all the no-hands rests there.

Colin, that's funny. I watched the clock hit 24:00 at Big Sandy. It was painful to watch. It's nice to share with someone who had a similar experience. Congrats! Do you have a write-up? Id love to read. :)

Alain De la Tejera · · Riverside, CA · Joined Apr 2013 · Points: 172

Thanks, Jan! Just do a lot of mileage at the Quarry. I thought that helped me log in some miles in Yosemite. Just skip all the no-hands rests there.

Colin, that's funny. I watched the clock hit 24:00 at Big Sandy. It was painful to watch. It's nice to share with someone who had a similar experience. Congrats! Do you have a write-up? Id love to read. :)

Sirius · · Oakland, CA · Joined Nov 2003 · Points: 660

This was rad, thank you for sharing.

Something that's been killing me: I saw your partner's pic on the TGL a few months back and could not for the life of me figure out how he'd pulled that off.

It's a semi-hanging belay before the TGL, right? And then once you mantle up onto the ledge, it's pretty narrow. So how in the hell did he manage to get his harness and all of his clothes off without killing himself there?!

Congrats to you guys - you would have crushed the 24-hr mark without the headlamp issue, seems like.

jesse · · corona · Joined Mar 2011 · Points: 15

I made an anchor on the ledge and just held on to it while I stripped. It was the part that I was most careful on ha-ha, and the embarrassement of plummetting to my death naked kept me on. Best worst idea ever. Also Alain took a bunch more pics of my junk but only got to upload that one then lost my phone with all the others on cathedral peak somewhere. Somebody had to have found that phone...

Colin Simon · · Boulder, CO · Joined Jan 2009 · Points: 370

Alain, I didn't make a trip report, but my climbing partner did:

cheynelempe.blogspot.com/20…

And a short video:

vimeo.com/25211328

I regret not pulling out the camera more on half dome in particular. At 1:10 the look in Cheyne's eyes is very memorable. Capturing that pain on footage is special.

In June 2014 he did the triple with Dave Allfrey!

Alain De la Tejera · · Riverside, CA · Joined Apr 2013 · Points: 172

Colin, even if that video was short, it was still fun to watch. Chesnes expression on Half Dome was awesome. So proud of both of you, even if this may have been a while ago. I hope more people try the link-up, it's alot of suffering sure, but from my impression from the skills of valley dwellers, more people should be able to do this. I hope at least.

Congrats to Cheyne and Dave, a suffer fest on another level. 😊

JeffL · · Salt Lake City · Joined Jun 2012 · Points: 65

Awesome! I'm training and aspiring to NIAD, hopefully sub 12 hours. If you have any suggestions not covered by Hans' book I'd love to hear them

pforien · · Unknown Hometown · Joined Feb 2014 · Points: 5

Dude, that's one of the raddest trip report I have ever read. I started climbing recently but the NIAD is definitely one of my dream send. Definitely got me psyched to train.

Colin Simon · · Boulder, CO · Joined Jan 2009 · Points: 370
JeffL wrote:Awesome! I'm training and aspiring to NIAD, hopefully sub 12 hours. If you have any suggestions not covered by Hans' book I'd love to hear them
Short fix.

Use large blocks. Good places to change are Dolt Tower, Camp IV, and Camp VI.

Don't clip the bolt in Texas Flake Chimney. This allows you to flick the rope outside the chimney and jug it.

Use the "free" variation to the grey bands (p19 in supertopo). It's challenging but far, far faster than the original way.

I used a few extra tactics: my feet were nearly the same size as my buddy's. We brought one pair of approach shoes - the jugger used the approach shoes, the leader used their own rock shoes. For the descent each of us got 1 approach shoe. Makes it feel like a true "team" effort.

Simul-climb the bolt ladders.
Alain De la Tejera · · Riverside, CA · Joined Apr 2013 · Points: 172
JeffL wrote:Awesome! I'm training and aspiring to NIAD, hopefully sub 12 hours. If you have any suggestions not covered by Hans' book I'd love to hear them
Colin is right. Short-fixing is the way to go, not clipping the bolt in the Texas Chimney and simul-climbing the bolt ladders.

If I would have done things differently though, would be to rehearse and memorize those first four pitches a lot. After the link-up, a friend and I completed each pitch in 6-7 minutes, reaching Sickle Ledge in 25-28 minutes, having worked each pitch over and over and not in a single go, just adding the time up.

Also, simul-climbing Sickle Ledge to the Stovelegs is something my partner and I did too. The leader puts a red cam before the anchors and clips a draw to the anchors as the second is following, then you go ahead and weight the rope and as the second gets pulled up, the leader swings over to the 5.6 blocky climbing. Fun stuff.

I also think I would have used more blocks.

Also, get your aid climbing DOWN!!!!! I went terribly slow on the Boot Flake, Glowering Spot and the final bolt ladder. Bring a lot of small pieces and micro-offsets.

Pforien, thank you so much. It was fun writing it as it helped re-live those moments. Just work a lot of mileage, I was never a project kind of guy and just did a lot of mileage over the 5-6 years I was climbing to get to this point. You better believe that you are just as capable of doing the NIAD too. Just ask a lot of questions and be consistent with learning and training. :) Cheers.
JeffL · · Salt Lake City · Joined Jun 2012 · Points: 65

Thanks for the additional beta. I hope to not hijack your thread, but...

Would you prefer a 60m over a 70m? Also, do you go with a fatty rope like 9.8 or even fatter? Does it make sense to end a block at sickle and start the next one simuling to dolt? Seems like I'd be out of gear reaching sickle.

As for rack, any mandatory pieces? Currently I'm planning doubles to #3 Camalot, 1 #4, offset aliens, dmm offset nuts, peanuts and offset brass, and no idea what combo of slings, loose biners, and quickdraws.

Colin Simon · · Boulder, CO · Joined Jan 2009 · Points: 370
Alain Aleksandro De la Tejera wrote: I went terribly slow on the Boot Flake, Glowering Spot and the final bolt ladder.
People who screw up the Glowering Spot hit the ledge and break their ankles. So it's not the end of the world if you take a few extra minutes on that pitch.

JeffL wrote: Would you prefer a 60m over a 70m? Also, do you go with a fatty rope like 9.8 or even fatter? Does it make sense to end a block at sickle and start the next one simuling to dolt? Seems like I'd be out of gear reaching sickle.
If money were no object I'd be using a brand new 8.9mm single 60m.

Yes, you got Sickle right.

More specifically: the leader does the hard climbing on Pitch 4, then fixes the rope to the bolt at the beginning of the ledge, and runs to the chains with a death loop. It's a 4th class ledge - the follower can't really use ascenders because it's horizontal, and walking the ledge with a giant pile of rope is super irritating. So the follower jugs to the bolt, and then the leader belays the follower to the sickle ledge anchors.

We however had the leader keep going to Dolt.

Rack: Yes, you'll want the offset cams, and some small nuts. But you don't need dmm offsets, peanuts AND offset brass. For NIAD + Half Dome you rarely place nuts.

I'd bring a cam hook. Useful in the Boot Flake, upper Pancake flake, and Great Roof.

Also I brought triples from camalot 0.4 to #2. Obviously people bring less but I thought that was good. Bringing 3-4 extra lockers and 5 extra non-lockers allows you to short fix many pitches.

Starting the boot flake is C2, there's commonly a copperhead or fixed nut there. Black alien-sized piece or a small nut fits. You could definitely take a whipper there. I remember getting a 0.4 camalot in the very bottom of the boot, then the crack widens and you can free or french the rest of it.

Both people swinging is fun and pretty fast. Leader threads the rope through the rings and cleans his gear while being lowered back to the top of the bolt ladder.
Alain De la Tejera · · Riverside, CA · Joined Apr 2013 · Points: 172

I used a 9.4 from Sterling. I think it was called "The Dominator". Offsets for sure as well as a set of offset nuts. I remember those were those were specifically used for the hard or mandatory aid pitches, including the "Changing Corners" pitch. The ONE solid piece of gear I was talking about on the "Glowering Spot" was the blue, purple offset Metolious Mastercam, which I also used on the traverse, bolt ladder pitch on the second to last pitch on Half-Dome. That cam is a gem. Those offset Mastercams are a must.

I would have done my blocks a lot differently too. Have blocks for sure and really plan ahead what you both are going to do.

Guideline #1: Don't be a jerk.

Big Wall and Aid Climbing
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