NIAD

When I was 16 I was given an old On The Edge magazine, OTE 39. Aside from a fantastic bio of big Ron, the best article in it was "you want to climb the nose in a day?". This was both a how to guide, and an aspirational peice. The same day that I was given this magazine, I was happy to climb Tiger at burbage south, which, if you know the problem may give you an impression of how far removed my ability or ambition was from being able to climb the nose at all, let alone in 24 hours. In spite of its lack of immediate relevance to me at the time, the article obviously struck a chord as I remembered to tear out the pages and bring them with me.

Dan pointed out to me that the number of pitches we were doing per day had increased, from 8, to 12, to 19. With this observation combined with the seed planted years before, it became inevitable what we would try next.

After considering almost every point over the 24 hour clock, Dan began climbing the nose at 0320. Climbing by a full moon was eerie but exciting. Making fast progress meant we passed a sleeping team in the night, and two more pairs just as they were waking on dolt tower, 11 pitches up. At this point we stashed our abseil cord on the ledge to collect it another day. No retreat would be possible from now on, no discussion was needed. We were committed to the top.

We climbed doing everything we could to maintain momentum. Free climbing, pulling on gear or bolts, aid, standing in slings or on each other, anything was fair game. By 1130 we had climbed 20 of the 31 pitches, although this point is often regarded as the half way mark timewise.

Then the sun turned on us. Every surface reflected the heat onto us, our fingers and toes stung, our mouths dried up and our progress slowed. Some pitches, like the great roof, are inherently slow to climb, but others that should have been quick free climbs became protracted frigging exercises. We lost our drive to go fast, only continuing as we had no choice. Darkness eventually gave us some respite from the heat, but we remained toasted by it. Even though the climbing looked world class, it was with a weary obligation that we continued through constant pain. Every action was coloured by dehydration. We knew at this point that we would complete the route within 24 hours due to our earlier speed, but just getting off the route was the only goal we now cared for.

We found some water, which is sometimes left by big wall parties who have more than they need. We both greedily drank a litre but our mouths were dry again within a minute. 3 pitches from the top, I told Dan that I would happily abseil 28 pitches in preference to continue, if only we had the option.

On topping out at 2300 we shook hands, out of habit rather than celebration. We descended by the eastern ledges, bitching about the whole experience. We were interrupted at one time by Dan's watch alarm, informing us that we had now been awake for 24 hours.

The next day my body was in tatters. My fingers were too swollen to make a fist. We hitched to el cap to retrieve some kit. Stood in the meadow, I could barely comprehend what I could see with the previous days experience. Features that I had seen before now had a new meaning and context. My internal monologue was screaming "i damm well climbed that!" On repeat. It was really hard to reconcile the vast scale of El Capitan with, well, me.

Dan and I had been quite coy about out objective of the nose in a day whilst around camp 4. Inevitably however, lots of people knew our plans. Their kind congratulations, and knowing that some of them had driven to the meadow to watch our progress, all helped erode the memories of discomfort, and allow their replacement with a deep and personal satisfaction.
Although the praise from others his always nice to hear, and I think it is important in itself, it also helped me to put the day into perspective. Our friends helped me to refocus my thoughts on the good parts, rather than dwell exclusively on the discomfort and pain we endured to get there.

Doing the nose was amazing. It just took a little while for it to sink in.