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Trip Report - A Rescue in the Valley:
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edge
Jun 10, 2004, 2:16 PM
Views: 7321
Registered: Apr 14, 2003
Posts: 9120
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This began as a response to the Helicopters in the Valley thread in the aid forum, but something struck a nerve as I began typing and the words just kept coming. In an odd way this post has helped me deal with old wounds, and brought back a flood of memories that occasionally surface and make me remember some of the reasons why I climb.
In October of 1984 I was recruited by Yosemite Search and Rescue to help with what, at the time, was their largest ever technical rescue. An early season snowstorm had blown in over night and dumped 4 inches of powder on my tent in the Valley floor, and much more in the high country. The next morning most climbers packed up and drove to Joshua Tree or warmer climes, while my friend Doug and I waited until afternoon to do what we do best. We went to the bar to drink.
In need of climbers to help with the mission, one of the lead rescuers knew where to look for able bodies. He approached us mid-beverage, and asked if we would be willing to help rescue two Japanese climbers stranded on the last pitch of the Nose, two Americans on Zodiac, and Ed Drummond soloing the NA Wall. Doug looked at me and said the same thing that I was thinking, “If it were us up there, we would want people to help”. We told him that we were in.
As night was approaching, we were told to get some sleep and at 5 am report to a shuttle bus that would take us to the backside of the Captain, where we would walk in. The next morning we were driven to the trailhead, but when the weather cleared, helicopters began showing up to ferry us to the summit. I boarded a Navy chopper with Doug and another friend, and the pilot informed us that he needed to refuel in the Meadows. We started out by flying about 100 feet above the tree line, and then suddenly over the edge of the Captain for 3000 feet of instant exposure. To say that we were impressed would be an understatement.
We spiraled down, passing the Cathedral Rocks, then Sentinel Rock, and eventually we landed amid the crowd of onlookers in the Meadows. When the Navy refueling rig refused to work, a private chopper was called in to pick us up. I sat in the front seat right next to the pilot, who headed straight for the Nose and then climbed completely vertically, straight up the route, about 75 feet away. In the back seat, Les was screaming, "Look at Boot Flake". "There's the King Swing." "Check out the Great Roof; we're having fun now!"
At this point the pilot turned around to look at Les (I'm thinking, um, please look where you are going...) and said, "You're having fun, Huh? Well those two guys on the Nose are dead!"
That was the first we had heard of this, as we had assumed everyone was OK and just needed help getting off. Sure enough, a few seconds later we passed them. The leader had fallen trying to get off the iced up final pitch, and was hanging in space, spinning in air with icicles clearly visible on his fingertips. The second had tried to find refuge under the portaledge fly, and had eventually died there from the exposure. Our hearts sunk.
Several minutes later Doug and Les were dropped off at one spot to hump loads to the team atop Zodiac, and then I was dropped off at the trail to the top of NA Wall. When the chopper took off leaving me atop a snow covered Captain with a big bag of gear, I looked around at the beautiful scene and the lack of anyone in site. When the chopper disappeared from view over the treetops, I thought of the two Japanese climbers on the Nose and felt an overwhelming emptiness. There was nothing to do but grab the bag and report to the edge team.
http://www.rockclimbing.com/...p.cgi?Detailed=33876
Working with that crew on the edge of El Cap was at once a privilege, a joy, and a wonderment. We rigged anchors then lowered Werner Braun on a single rope to the stranded climber 500 feet below the top. Werner was able to throw a line in to the famous Brit, who pulled him into the wall. Later, after many preparations, they both jugged slowly to safety. Similar actions were happening over atop Zodiac, where the two climbers were suffering from mild frostbite. While both the Zodiac and NA Wall rescues were successful, a ranger had been lowered to the Japanese pair to confirm their deaths; the body recovery would take place the next day.
With climbers and gear now retrieved, we hiked up to our camp for the night, as darkness now precluded the choppers from operating. We all spent the night atop El Cap under makeshift tarpaulin tents in barely warm enough Park Service sleeping bags, bodies strewn like logs, huddling to stay warm. My third and last ever helicopter ride the next morning circumnavigated west, dropped into the Valley over Cookie Cliff, and deposited me in El Cap Meadow. From there a shuttle brought us to Yosemite Village, where I began walking back to Camp 4 (Sunnyside at the time).
On my way there, I passed a Japanese climber; he was part of a tight knit group who had taken over two side-by-side sites with a large group of tents. By now they all knew that their friends had passed on the Nose and when he saw me returning in my double boots and overnight pack he knew that I had been involved in the rescue. I will always remember the look on his face as he recognized me for my efforts, and saluted.
Although I think often of those few days, this is the first that I have written about it. I left early the following day, 15 climbers pushing my starterless truck through the snow in the parking lot so that I could pop the clutch. Within two days Doug and I were enjoying the warmth of Moab and the bite of Supercrack's jams, seemingly a lifetime away from the Captain. This would be my last trip to the Valley until later this year; I am looking forward to it immensely.
(This post was edited by edge on Mar 23, 2010, 4:54 PM)
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Post edited by edge
() on Mar 23, 2010, 4:54 PM
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