Ever since I started climbing 2 years ago I’ve been reading about and hearing about Snake Dike. Last Labor day I finally climbed it with a partner on my first climbing trip to the valley. This year, I was supposed to do the Cables hike with my soon-to-be-ex-girlfriend but I really wanted to climb instead and she doesn’t climb. So, what to do?
My friend and I use the same self-belay device—the Rock Exotica Soloist—and he calls his “The Loser.” As in, I’m such a loser I can’t even find a partner! I was going to name mine “Beck” for the same reason. I’ve been using mine a lot lately during the week when my son is in school and my friends are working. I’ve done several routes successfully and, while I prefer climbing with a partner, it is pretty cool to be somewhat self-reliant on the rock. So, after reassuring myself on some harder Suicide Rock slab routes last Thursday, I decided to give Snake Dike a try as a rope solo. What the hell—you only live once and, thankfully, you only die once.
I drove up Friday after work and spent the night in my car—freezing my ass off—and drove into the valley on Saturday morning. I got one of the last sites available in Camp 4 and did some warm up climbs with a couple—Mike and Christy—from North Carolina that afternoon. At 4:19 am Sunday morning I left Happy Isles and arrived at the base of the route by 8 am. My main concern with doing the route solo was traffic. Snake Dike is such a popular route and I’d be doing it on Labor Day weekend, so I expected to have a lot of company on the route—people I expected to have to let pass me. But as I started climbing at 8:30 am there was no one on the route ahead of me and no one at the base waiting in line—Snake Dike, arguably one of the most popular moderate routes in the world, with only one soul on it. What are the odds? By the time I'd led and rapped the first pitch however, there were 11 people at the base (a party of 3 and two parties of 4). The party of 3, Brian, Mary Kate and Jerrod (hope I got that right), got started just after I finished re-climbing the first pitch. And that made it time for mistake number one—I had tied a backup knot at the end of the rope and it got stuck when I pulled up the rope. Thankfully, Brian, was able to release it for me (mistake number 2 happened when I completely missed the one bolt on pitch 5—but found a placement with a tiny #1 BD C3).
Soon we got into a rhythm—Brian would lead the pitch just as I was finished cleaning it so I never thought I was impeding their progress. But what a sh#t show our shared anchors became after a while—Jeez! By the time I was ready to lead the next pitch, their anchor ‘biners were on top of mine and I had to re-orient my ‘biners—basically dismantle my entire anchor piece by piece—for an upward pull. But we cooperated pretty well and it was time to let them pass at the top of pitch 6. Mistake number 3 happened on the last pitch—an easy 5.2 slab. I had built a gear anchor in a crack and oriented it for an upward pull—but failed to place any pieces of protection above it. The climbing was so easy and over so quickly, I just kept going and never placed anything. But if I’d have fallen, the anchor pieces would have been oriented in the wrong direction and would have no doubt pivoted downward and, perhaps, out. Yikes! Needless to say, I learned lessons that I didn’t have to pay for with my life or that of others.
I finished the route at 1:30 pm and summited at 2:30 after that last 1000 feet of "3rd class slabs forever." After a leisurely pace on the hike down, I was back at the car at 7:19--15 hours, car to car--and on the Pizza deck half way through a large by 8:30. All that, and I didn't take ANY pictures ON the route! The only pictures I have are one on top of pitch 6—the only break in the action for me--and one on the summit. Dammit!