A WALK IN THE PARK PART 1
A historical perspective of the
first and second free ascents of City Park
Index Town Walls, Washington
by Jeff Smoot
|
back to features
|
|
|
Jeff and Larry debate whether City Park will go free
|
The first pitch of City Park ranks among the thinnest, steepest,
most elegant thin cracks in Washington granite. The crack—a seam
really—splits a slightly overhanging granite shield. It is one of
the hardest free pitches in Washington, definitely the hardest
crack climb in the state. Small wonder, since it’s vertical or
overhanging in its entirety, on a mostly smooth wall, and the best
jam you’ll find in its 120-foot length will accept barely more than
your first knuckle. Luckily, the crack eats wired stoppers eagerly,
making it a very popular clean aid pitch.
Of course, like all great Index free climbs, City Park began as an
aid route. There is some question about when it was climbed. Most
sources list City Park as having been climbed in 1966, by Roger
Johnson and Richard Mathies, who climbed four pitches to the top
of the Lower Wall. The first ascent party claims it named the route
City Park to follow the Japanese Gardens motif. Regardless of when
the first ascent was made, it is assured that the popularity of the
first pitch as an aid climb was greatly increased by the pin scars,
which allowed wired nuts to slot in all the way up the crack. The
resulting damage from pin scars during the early 1970s, before clean
climbing was wholly embraced, definitely made it possible for the
crack to be free climbed. In 1986, Wyoming cowboy and notorious
trickster Todd Skinner, after weeks of attempts, made a redpoint
ascent of the pitch (all protection placed on lead during a continuous
ascent from the ground with no falls) and established City Park’s
first pitch as Washington’s hardest free climb. The story of
Skinner's ascent is nearly as classic as the route itself. Some doubt
Skinner's free ascent, and even discredit Hugh Herr’s free ascent
because he didn’t have real feet. Truth be told by someone who
was there, Skinner did free the pitch.
Even the first time I climbed Godzilla and rappelled off, it occurred
to me that City Park could be climbed free. I rappelled slowly, stopping
often, sliding my fingertips into the subtle pin scars, twisting,
pulling downward. And many times after that, while aiding the pitch
or rappelling past it, or just gazing up in passing, I would repeat
this process and think, yes, it will go. I was not alone. Nearly
everyone who climbed or rappelled past the crack did the same thing,
and there were many believers. Some, who had gone so far as to set up
a toprope and give it a try, were convinced. The results were encouraging,
sort of. Fingers fit in here and there, ripples and nubbins allowed
feet to stick, and each section of the crack could be climbed, albeit
with a lot of hanging in between. But a continuous free ascent? Some
doubted the route would ever go free, at least not without many more
years of nailing to "enhance" the pin scars. But others had faith, and
prophesied that someday, someone would free climb City Park, and that it
would be 5.13, the hardest free climb in Washington. Yet no local
climbers were committed to the task. There were other, easier, first
ascents, and during the early and mid-80s, the heyday of Index free
climbing, City Park remained an easy aid crack. As a free climb, it
was a climb for the future, best left to the future. That future was
not long in coming, however. During the spring of 1986, Todd Skinner
set up camp at the Lower Wall, and despite rain, darkness, and an
infamous sabotage attempt, succeeded in leading the pitch free. Then,
that fall, Hugh Herr repeated the pitch. Of course, there are those who
doubt City Park has received or ever will receive a free ascent. And,
for the record, some of those people are right, sort of, and at the
same time they are all wrong. Allow me to explain.
|
|
Some poseur pretends to attempt a free lead of City Park
|
I met Todd at Joshua Tree during the spring of 1984. This was before
Todd had decided to become a self-aggrandizing media-hog, although he
was admittedly up to something along those lines. Todd told me, and
anyone else within earshot, that he was on a quest to free climb the
hardest cracks in America. That was what he called it—a "quest".
Naturally, I asked him if he was going to try City Park. He pressed
for details, but seemed unenthusiastic when I expressed some reservation
about whether it would really go free. (Either that or he had heard
about our weather.) Todd didn't want to waste his time working a
route that wouldn’t go. After all, he was on a quest. So I mentioned
another unclimbed local crack, the wildly overhanging nightmare on
the upper left side of Givler's Dome. I told him Peter Croft had been
on that, and that it would definitely go, probably at 5.13. Again, he
seemed unimpressed. But the following summer, to my surprise, I found
Todd encamped at the base of Givler's Dome. Todd had arrived quietly
in Leavenworth and set to work on the problem, even though he had
decided it wasn't quite worthy of his self-important quest because,
it turned out, it wasn’t going to be hard enough to be one of the
hardest cracks in America. Still, for an "easy" crack, it took him
several days of effort before he was finally able to lead the route
in one go and establish what was then the hardest free climb in
Washington. He named the route "Never-Never" and rated it 5.12d,
much to the chagrin of those, including myself, who were sure it
would be the state's first 5.13. (As far as I know, the route has
not been repeated on lead, and I would not hesitate to say that
the route is, in actuality, 5.13.)
Anyway, I ran into Todd in Joshua Tree again the next spring. By now,
Todd had embarked on a new quest, to become the most famous climber
in the world, or something like that. Todd and his entourage, namely
Beth Wald, Bill Hatcher, and lately yours truly, were touring the
country, climbing all of the hardest routes, usually in dubious style,
then publicizing our "feats" in the pages of Climbing magazine, and
later Rock & Ice. At least, Todd's climbs were getting publicity. After
all, Todd was the "star" of this traveling circus. Although Todd's
new obsession was extreme, rappel-bolted face climbing, he hadn't
forgotten about City Park, and again pressed for details. How long
is it? Has anybody tried it?
|
|
Brian Scott makes a winter aid ascent of City Park
|
How thin are the jams? Who else knows
about it? Will it be 5.14? I gave him all the gory details, including
my assessment that if it went free, it would be hard 5.13, possibly
5.14. Although clearly intrigued by the prospect of establishing what
would at that time have been one of the hardest free pitches in
the world, Todd frowned. "It's a crack," he complained, then
declared, "Crack climbing is dead." Notwithstanding his proclamation
that crack climbing was now "dead," Todd's circus act set up tent
in Camp 4 later that spring, and Todd soon set to work on a very
thin, pin-scarred aid crack on the Cookie Cliff—The Stigma—which
generated no small amount of controversy. The Valley locals were
neither amused nor impressed by Todd’s efforts. Not that they
minded someone trying to free climb an "impossible" A3 crack, but
clearly they disapproved of Todd's methodology, which included
fixing Lost Arrows every six feet up the crack and then laying siege
upon the route, hangdogging without mercy. After who-knows-how-many
days of dogged effort, Todd finally reached a no-hands stance 80
feet up the crack—and a full 20 feet short of the crack’s end—and
claimed victory, rating the pitch 5.13d and proclaiming it to be
the hardest free climb in America. Cages duly rattled, the Valley
boys wasted no time in stealing Todd's fixed pins, and pulled no
punches in letting it be known that Todd’s so-called ascent was
nothing more than a glorified aid climb. The truth is, Todd’s free
ascent of The Stigma was a glimpse of the future of free climbing
in America, and they didn’t like it one bit.
Skinner's ascent of The Stigma was a vision of things to come, both
in the broad sense that American climbing was evolving from its
traditionalist roots, that acrobatics were indeed taking precedence
over ascendancy, that difficulty of line mattered more than purity,
and in the narrow sense as well. After Skinner freed The Stigma, I
knew with absolute certainty that City Park would go free, and that
Todd Skinner would be the one to free it. So I hounded him to come
to Index and get on it, luring him northward with the promise that
the hardest crack in the world was his for the taking. He was unmoved.
He had other places to go, other climbs to work into submission, other
photos to pose for. City Park could wait. Todd tried to lure me to
Russia and to Mexico that summer and fall, but after three months
on the road, I was tired of being a belay slave and photo lackey, so
I hitched a ride north to Smith Rock with a pack of Brits and Aussies,
and after a week there I caught a bus for home and resumed a normal life.
It would not have surprised me at all to have driven out to Index
one summer morning and found Todd at work on City Park. But the summer
passed with no sign of Todd, or anyone else, attempting a free ascent.
Aid climbers continued to plod up the crack. Free climbers were still
busy cleaning dirt and moss out of cracks to unearth yet another 5.11d.
Ultimately, though, he did come. The factor that most compelled Skinner
to finally come and try City Park free was not his ascent of The Stigma.
It was Alan Watts. In the summer of 1985, Watts, already pioneer of
countless 5.13s at Smith Rock, established the East Face of Monkey
Face as the hardest free climb in America, The Stigma notwithstanding.
Unlike many of Watts' other Smith Rock testpieces, which climbed steep,
overhanging faces via pockets and edges, the East Face followed an old
A3 crack line, replete with pin scars. Granted, the route was not
greatly unlike other Smith Rock desperates, but while belaying Alan
during his successful first ascent of the route, I realized he, too,
was a contender for the free ascent of City Park. I had mentioned the
climb to Alan that spring, at Joshua Tree, after watching him attempt
Moonbeam Crack. He was obviously a very good thin crack climber. After
seeing him free climb the East Face of Monkey Face, I was pretty sure
he could free City Park. And after our road trip to Yosemite that August,
I was convinced.
|
|
Alan Watts during the second free ascent of The Stigma
|
After he ticked off the East Face, Alan and I set off for the Valley.
Our mission: repeat The Stigma. Of course, I was out of my league when
it came to hard climbing. Alan was a very gifted, very strong climber,
while I was lazy, apathetic, and only modestly talented. Why Alan
thought it fitting to bring me along on this trip was beyond my
reckoning, although I could only guess it was because I was a very
patient belayer. Either that, or because I had seen Todd climbing
The Stigma, and might give him some much-desired beta. I must have
proven a disappointment if the latter was the case, because I hadn't
actually seen Todd make his "free ascent," and I was dead-set
against pre-protecting the pitch as Todd had done. Alan's plan was to
aid the crack and fix pins before working on it. When we arrived at
the base of the crack, I suggested, "Why not at least try it without
the pins first?" Alan agreed. He did aid the pitch first, but mostly
clean, fiddling with RPs and TCUs along the way to Todd's no-hands
stance. Above that, Alan couldn't get nuts or cams to stick in the
shallow, flared crack, so he whacked in a couple of pitons, reached
the anchor bolt, and rappelled, cleaning his gear as he descended and
making up a rack for his free attempts. On his first day's attempts,
Alan got about halfway to the stance, cruising the initial 5.12a
section but only a few moves beyond. The next day, he ignored The
Stigma, and instead did some soloing and bouldering, while I sat at
the base of Cookie Cliff guarding my fixed rope from the Valley
locals, whom I imagined were lurking nearby, ready to pull it down
and defecate on it, or some such idiocy. John Bachar did walk past,
pausing briefly to inspect the route, but departed without comment.
Somehow, we recruited two Japanese climbers to belay Alan the next
morning, so I could photograph Alan on the route. These two were
very excited to meet the very famous Alan Watts, who was apparently
a very big celebrity in Japan. Alan made two tries that morning, and
I got some good photos, while Alan got a 40-foot whipper after nearly
sticking the crux on his second try, then falling off as his
non-English-speaking belayer let out slack when Alan wanted him to
take it up. We soon said good-bye to our Japanese friends, who
apparently did not understand that they were being given the bum's rush.
After they departed, Alan took a long rest, then sent the route on
his next try. The crux involved torquing up several small, well-spaced
pin scars, including a mono-doight twister and one of the most
improbable gastons I have ever seen accomplished. Once established
on the stance, Alan was ready to call it quits, since that was where
Todd had stopped, but since Todd had been criticized for stopping
short of the end of the crack, I goaded him into giving the rest of
the crack a try. Under such intense peer pressure, and a threat not
to lower him off unless he kept climbing, Alan agreed. Of course,
there was the matter of protection. Alan didn’t have a hammer and
pitons on his rack, but utilizing my fixed rope, he pulled up a
few pins and the hammer, then climbed up, whacked in a pin off
a 5.12 finger jam, then finished the crack. Unfortunately, the
anchor bolt was out of reach from the end of the crack. After a few
desperate dynos and falls, I suggested he tie a longer sling on the
bolt so it could be clipped from the top of the crack. He yarded up
the fixed rope, tied a long sling on the bolt, and on his next try
succeeded in completing the crack free.
|
|
Alan Watts during the second free ascent of The Stigma
|
These days, nobody would think twice about lowering the anchors to
the top of the crack and calling that the end of the route. In fact,
I hear someone has done that, now that sport climbing has gained
acceptance even in the Valley. But back then, this was considered a
despicable atrocity, unacceptable by the mores of Yosemite climbers.
Alan's ascent was instantly discounted by the locals, who in fact had
been lurking in the bushes, watching Alan's climb. By the time we
arrived back at the truck, they had already left their mark.
Thankfully, they had done no harm. They had merely drawn a cute picture
of a doggy in the dust on the rear window, with some censorable
commentary about Alan's sexual orientation. After a good laugh, we
departed the Valley. That was the shortest, strangest trip to the
Valley I had ever made. Three days, all spent at the Cookie Cliff,
without climbing anything except the first 30 feet of The Stigma and
a few Camp 4 boulder problems.
Despite his vilification by the Valley locals, in truth, Alan's
ascent of The Stigma was done in very good style, particularly in
comparison to Todd's ascent. Alan led up to Todd's high point
without pitons and without fixed gear, placing all gear on the
lead. Also, Alan finished the entire crack in one go, from bottom
to top, falling off only when he couldn't clip the anchor bolt which
was way up to the right and out of reach. Alan's only tricks were
aiding the route first, rehearsing a couple of sections after hanging
to rest, pulling up the hammer and pins for the final section of the
crack, and aiding the last move to the anchor to tie on a longer
sling that could be clipped from crack's end. Imperfect, sure, but
next to what Todd had done, Alan's ascent was a major breakthrough.
It seems ironic that stalwart traditionalists such as Kurt Smith
and Ron Kauk, outspoken defenders of traditionalist ethics a
decade ago, changed their tune only a few years later.
Anyway, after Watts' repeat of The Stigma, which, coincidentally,
he downrated to 5.13b, I told him he should come up and try City
Park. Given the relative ease of Alan's ascent of The Stigma, I knew
he would have the best shot at freeing it. At that moment, he might
have made an on-sight ascent, or at least come close. Alan seemed
very interested in the fact that Skinner wanted to free City Park,
and laughed at the idea that he might steal it out from under Todd's
nose while Todd was off in Russia or Mexico or wherever the heck
Todd was off to. But alas, Alan had other things to do, and didn't
appear on the scene until the next spring. By then, it was too late.
Todd Skinner had come to Index.
On to Part 2
back to features
