I had been looking at the
smooth, overhanging east face of Moro Rock for years. I'd been searching for
a natural line up the blank headwall during approaches to routes such as the
South Face and Moro Oro. During a one day ascent of Full Metal Jacket, Grant
Gardner and I found a line and decided to make and attempt later in the
year. Grant, Jody Pennycook, and I arrived at the Moro Rock parking lot
after a day of classes at Cal Poly in San Luis Obispo. It was Veteran's Day
weekend in 1997 and we were taking four days off. Weather forecasters were
talking about a weather phenomenon called "El Nino". They called for the
first storm of the season to hit Monday night. We figured 3 days would be
plenty of time to climb the 1500' route.
The next day we headed down
the east side gully with portaledges, big wall climbing gear, and ambition.
The first pitch was my lead. It's an A2 variation of the first pitch of Full
Metal Jacket (FMJ). It was the dirtiest pitch on the climb since it required
scooping slimy mud out of the crack to get good cam placements. Grant led
the next pitch up the "Grey Half Moon". This new-wave A3+ pitch has thin
heading and nailing over the ledge that forms the second pitch of FMJ. At
points on the pitch Grant could have fallen and hit the sidewalk-like ledge.
The difficulty and fall factor didn't seem to bother him. The pitch ended at
the "John De Aves", an abandoned bird nest atop a pillar with lots of bird
poo. We setup a hanging camp here, right at the base of the bulging
headwall.
We woke up Sunday morning
with the sun rising over the Sierra crest. One of the great things about the
east face of Moro is that no people or cars can be seen; only the High
Sierra and the Kaweah River valley are in view. The temperature was perfect
as I started aiding the splitter crack up the overhanging face. "The Opiator"(A2+)
pitch consisted of a .75" straight-in crack that tapered down to beaks at
the belay. It took a long time to lead the strenuous 110 degree overhanging
pitch. It wasn't until I was at the belay that I noticed the 100'+ section
above, that appeared blank from below, actually had a splitter Knifeblade/Beak
crack running through it. I was definitely setting up the belay here and
handing the lead over to Grant. I drilled three 3/8" bolts, fixed the ropes,
and started hauling from this extremely exposed belay. The belay was so
overhanging that we were suspended away from the rock.
Grant started one of the
best aid pitches anywhere. On the "Trust Your Pecker" pitch (A3), Grant
placed all five of our bird beaks, back cleaned most of them and placed them
again. Towards the top of pitch he placed a few small heads and set up a
belay underneath an overhang. This was our second hanging bivy. So far we
had placed no lead bolts or rivets. Monday morning started with lots of high
clouds moving in. We could tell something big was heading our way. We still
felt confident that we could get off by the end of the day. Just to make
sure we were moving as fast as possible, I asked Grant to lead the next
pitch. His free/aid lead zig-zagged until he gained one of the right angling
cracks that comprise the upper east face of Moro. His lead took several
hours and the skies were getting darker. Fog was starting to move up the
Kaweah River valley far below. Grant finished his lead and fixed the lines.
Jody's line hung right over the lip of an overhang. As with the last two
pitches, she needed to be lowered out in order to jug the fixed line. I
lowered her out and let the rope go. She was on her own. After she had
jugged about 20' up the rope there was a tearing sound. The sheath of the
rope had cut on the edge of the overhang and slid down 2 feet. Jody was
freaking out and I thought I was about to watch someone die. Grant looked at
the rope on the edge and determined that it would probably hold for the rest
of her jug. She delicately jugged up the rope without further tearing.
Timidly, she made it to the anchor and I started cleaning the pitch.
When I arrived at the belay
it was starting to sprinkle. Quickly I grabbed the gear, ropes, and bolt kit
and headed out onto the 6th lead. It was free climbing to the top, but on
wet rock. The situation was starting to get serious. To reduce the risk I
placed two bolts on this 5.7 pitch that wouldn't be necessary in dry
conditions. They were the first lead bolts of the route. By the time I had
set up the belay, little streams had started to flow down the face. Grant
and Jody followed the pitch with urgency.
Grant took the next lead,
which continued on the right leaning crack system. FMJ joins in at this
point, so we felt some comfort knowing we were on an established route.
About halfway up the pitch it started to snow. Jody and I yelled at Grant to
finish the pitch as we realized we were in deep trouble. Grant complained
that he has lost feeling in his fingers and was having a hard time
manipulating the ropes. Eventually the ropes were fixed. Jody had been
shaking for the last hour and now she had the chance to get warm by jugging.
We decided we needed to bivy now, so Grant started to get a bolt ready for
the portaledge. Suddenly Jody slid down the rope, her ascenders were
slipping. We couldn't believe it, even with teeth on the ascender cams they
weren't gripping the icy rope. Jody started to cry, this said a lot, since
most guys would have been bawling by now. She used her hand to clear the
snow and ice off the rope, then slid the ascender up and pressed the cam in
with her thumb. There was still some slippage but she managed to get to the
anchor.
Snow was collecting on
ledges and was starting to slough off the rock, it was becoming a blizzard.
I started cleaning the pitch on ascenders and began to slide down the rope.
I paused for a moment to rest and evaluate the situation. I told myself, "If
you don't get up this rope, you will die". I used my numb hands to clear the
snow and ice from the rope and moved slowly up the rope. I arrived at the
belay to see Grant slumped on the ledge becoming hypothermic. The portaledge
anchor had not been setup up and snow was piling up on our haulbags. Jody
was huddling around Grant to keep warm. Immediately I started drilling a
1/4" bolt, hung a keyhole hangar on it, and setup up the double portaledge
and fly. We scrambled into the hanging tent with our extra clothes and
sleeping bags. We took off all of our clothes and tried to dry off. The
waterproof fly trapped in most of the vapor and got our sleeping bags damp.
None of us slept that night. We massaged our feet and hands to get feeling
back in them. Every ten minutes we had to beat the rain fly to knock off the
snow collecting on it. We kept communicating with each other to make sure
weren't going hypothermic. I honestly didn't know if we were going to
survive this ordeal. The traversing pitches and the big overhang below made
rapelling off almost impossible. We had no other choice but to leave it for
God to decide the outcome.
As morning approached, the
rain fly became brighter. We sloughed off the snow and opened the fly. I saw
one of the most spectacular views ever. The clouds had partially cleared and
every thing in sight was encased in white. Floating ice crystals sparkled as
they floated through the air. We quickly decided to make a run for the top.
We gathered our critical gear and started climbing. We packed up the
portaledge and haulbags and tied them to the ledge. The decision was made to
leave them since they were now a liability. Within ten minutes of starting
up the pitch the clouds obscured the sun and the fog rolled in. Visibility
was about 30'. Luckily our climbing path was free of snow, however, it was
running water, making climbing dangerous. We climbed the last two pitches as
fast as we could. Once at the top we were elated with joy - we had survived.
We had enough energy to pose for a group picture. Shortly after topping out
it began to snow again. So, we started walking down the snowy stairs to the
parking lot. About halfway down I heard static from a radio. As I turned the
corner, I startled a park ranger. He asked if my name was Brandon Thau. I
said "Yes, how did you know my name?". He responded that I was a missing
person since my truck was in the parking lot and that the road was getting
closed. He continued to say that the park service had contacted my parents
to tell them of the situation. We walked back to the parking lot, where over
a foot of snow had fallen. We got into my truck, put it into four wheel
drive and headed home.
My parents were relieved to
hear that I was safe and I was relieved to finally be off the rock. A week
later we snowshoed up the closed road to Moro Rock. More snow had fallen
during the week. It was the first in a series of the El Nino storms of 1997.
We rappelled two rope lengths off the top and retrieved our gear. Everything
was soaked and weighed twice as much. Once again we drove home, happy that
our ordeal was over.
Note: This is a very
difficult route. In retrospect it's probably A4 or something, but Grant is
too modest to rate it as such. Beware of one of the belay bolts at the "John
De Aves" belay, it is a two-piece 3/8" wedge anchor. Please don't add any
bolts to the pitches if you decide to try this excellent wall route. Also,
we named our route "El Nino" before the Huber brothers put up the semi-free
route on El Capitan. Grant went on to making the first solo ascent of the
Reticent Wall on El Capitan (it rained 10 out of 12 days) and put up the
hardest route on El Capitan, "Nightmare on California Street". About a year
after putting up "El Nino", Grant and I returned to put up "El Principe
Pequeno". It goes up a pitch and a half of FMJ and then heads up a left
leaning groove. The eight hour pitch, climbed over two days, consists of a
few small cams but mainly tons of heads, beaks and blades. Grant rated it
A4+, but only because he placed a rivet 10' from the top of the 180' pitch.
From the top of the pitch, follow a short right leaning bolt ladder and
pendulum over to the start of the "Trust Your Pecker" pitch on El Nino.
