What You Can Learn From the Mistakes I Made on ‘The Nose’

The Nose was a lifelong goal of mine. I felt an obligation to achiever this rite of passage in order to feel validated as a true climber. I wanted my own piece of the glory that everyone else seemed to be having. The constant stream of success stories on Instagram, YouTube, and Reel Rock made the Nose feel like an attainable goal for mere mortal climbers like me. If the elites put up speed records, tick free ascents, and cruise the route as part of the Triple Crown, then anyone with enough experience should be able to show up and send, right?

Though I had never been on a big wall, I was young and cocky and had been climbing most of my life. I’d dabbled in everything from comp climbing to guiding and alpine climbing. My ego told me I had put in my time and I was ready.

My invitation to Yosemite came in the spring of 2018 from my partners Chris and Jay, who had put in a failed attempt the year before. I greedily accepted. In hindsight, my attempt on the Nose was doomed before it ever began.

Chris—who gained what I regarded as his infinite big wall wisdom from his single Nose attempt the year prior—wholeheartedly believed that the key to our success was maximal fitness. With the exception of one day of aid and hauling practice, our training consisted of an entire summer sport climbing at Rumney, in the name of fitness.

By fall, I had a case of bilateral elbow tendonitis and an inflated sense of confidence from all the big wall instructional videos I had watched on YouTube. That arrogance carried over to our first week in the Valley. Instead of spending that time dialing our systems as a party of three, we climbed a “warm up” big wall—The South Face of Washington Column—as a party ascent of six people. With only a half day’s rest, we confidently strode to the base of El Cap.

‘The Nose’ mistakes commence: From rage hauling to pumped whipping

October’s pristine conditions in the Valley are a poorly kept secret. From the moment we tied in, every pitch became an exercise in patience. Minutes turned into hours on the first four pitches as we waited for the multiple parties ahead of us to sort themselves out. We did ourselves no favors by being a shit show right from the get-go.

Our party of three struggled with efficient transitions. Hauling two massively overpacked haul bags and a portaledge proved to be not only a time suck, but also an energy-draining affair. Early on, in an episode that would come to be known as “rage hauling,” I dropped a shoe three full rope lengths to the ground while throwing my full body weight into the haul. Rappelling to my shoe, then jugging back up the fixed lines to Sickle Ledge, left me smoked. From there, things continued to go downhill.

On pitch five of 31, after finding myself way off route and downclimbing to fix my mistake, I got so pumped that I fell while clipping the anchor and took a 40-foot whipper. This dragged my unsuspecting belayer across Sickle Ledge, creating a scene in front of the parties queued behind us.

While waiting to perform a swing on pitch six similar to—though smaller than—the famous King Swing later up the route, we found ourselves stuck behind a party claiming to be going for a NIAD—the Nose in a day. Based on their speed, I’m guessing that plan changed to the Nose in two-to-three business days.

We made it to the top of pitch seven well after sunset. Jay and I began to fall asleep at the belay, while Chris struggled to aid the next pitch in the dark. We called him back down mid-pitch and made camp in the Dolt Hole, an awkward, cave-like feature not known as an ideal bivouac location. Chris and Jay fumbled well into the night to set up the portaledge, while I watched from the comfort of a hammock.

The next morning, we woke to the sound of another party passing us, just as the realization began to set in that there was no way we would make it to the top of El Cap. Transitions were taking too long and hauling was a nightmare. We were slow aid climbers. And the wall was too crowded. Our overconfidence and stoke had carried us this far, and our lack of competence had finally caught up.

A haulbag incident with a local legend

With the hope of finishing with the miniscule scrap of dignity we had left, we planned to climb the next three pitches through the Stove Legs and top out on Dolt Tower in mid-afternoon. It was smooth sailing until pitch eight, where I made one of the most embarrassing mistakes of my life.

After releasing the haul bags, I began to jumar the line, when I noticed someone at a rap anchor off to my right: none other than Valley legend Lynn Hill. She looked less than impressed in my direction as I jugged higher on my line. The shock at the unexpected encounter made me self-conscious about how tired and pathetic I must have appeared. I was too nervous to say anything. So instead, I put my head down and tried to finish the pitch as smoothly as possible, so as to not embarrass myself in front of Hill.

The novelty of seeing the first person to free climb The Nose on the very climb that she’s most famous for was not lost on me. What made the moment even more special was that we had heard Hill and Nina Caprez had been working on a 25-year anniversary ascent of Hill’s first free ascent of the Nose.

When I reached Chris and Jay, I couldn’t wait to brag about who I had just seen. But instead of sharing in my excitement, they glared at me like disappointed parents before breaking into uncontrolled laughter. They informed me that when I released the haulbags, they swung around the corner, narrowly missing Hill and Caprez as the tagline momentarily pinned them to the wall. Blissfully unaware they were even there, I had carried on with my business and jugged right past without even an acknowledgement. The disapproval on Hill’s face wasn’t a judgment on my poor jugging performance—it was more likely an annoyed response to being inconvenienced by a clueless newb.

Should our paths ever cross, I owe Hill and Caprez a well-overdue apology—and probably a beer—for the wrecking ball I sent screaming their way.

At this point, I wanted nothing more than to be off the wall and finished with this botched adventure. But El Cap was not done tormenting me. Halfway to the top of pitch nine, the exhaustion and stress from the climb caught up with me. After spending what felt like hours fumbling around, I was forced to bail mid-pitch. In one final moment of shame, the party behind us completed the last pitch for us.

What you can learn from my failed Nose attempt

Misadventure is humbling. After some self-loathing and rumination, I realized I had learned some difficult lessons from the mistakes we made on the Nose. Someday I hope to put these lessons into practice when I finally make it back to El Cap. Let my experience be a cautionary one. If you’re planning your first attempt on the Nose, keep some of these takeaways in mind.

Give the Nose the respect it deserves

The Nose—and other similarly challenging big walls—doesn’t care how long you’ve been climbing, how hard you climb, or how many walls you’ve done. For every successful climb, there are a hundred failures. No matter how attainable Reel Rock makes it look, the Nose is not something you can simply walk up and do. Show up prepared, and take a few rest days before you begin.

Train the right way

Unless you plan to attempt a free ascent, most pitches on the Nose are commonly aided or climbed via a combination of freeing and aiding. While fitness is important, skills like aiding, ascending fixed lines, lower outs, and hauling are more vital to master before you set foot on the wall. Another critical competency to master? Anchor transitions, which will add hours of delay if done poorly. Investing in a set of radios will improve efficiency by clearing up communication. They can also help you release haul bags at a safe and appropriate time.

Do your homework and make a plan

My whipper on pitch five was the result of not studying the beta for one of my assigned leads. I led off into the unknown with a triple rack when I probably could have made due with much less. This is something I would have known had I read the guidebook. By climbing off-route and carrying triple the amount of weight needed, the pitch felt harder than it should have. Assign lead pitches and learn the beta and the gear required of your assignment.

Control the controllable

The Nose is crowded. You will be at the mercy of the parties in front of you with nothing you can do about it. Early spring is an option to avoid crowds as long as you accept the likelihood of poor weather and conditions. Instead of worrying about the crowds or the weather, focus on what you can control. Use downtime to hydrate and eat. Keep your anchors tidy and ropes organized. Keep important gear like shoes and layers accessible and safely secured—or be prepared to rescue them.

Choose the right partners

Your partners on the Nose need to be people with whom you can laugh and have deep conversations at belays. Pick partners who can tolerate your attitude when you get hangry. And most importantly, choose partners who you feel comfortable being next to while defecating in a bag. Chris, Jay, and I bonded on the Nose and I couldn’t imagine an epic like we had with anyone but those two.

When I returned home from my failed attempt I was determined to take the lessons I had learned and redeem myself someday. But as it often does, life got in the way and I have yet to return to the Valley, let alone El Cap.

Don’t squander what may be your only chance on the climb by listening to your ego. Learn from my mistakes and don’t let the popularity of this classic fool you into thinking it’ll be a walk in the park. And for God’s sake, watch where you swing your haul bags.