Yosemite Point hangs 3200 feet above the valley floor. It is just east of the magnificent Yosemite Falls and right next to the Lost Arrow Spire. A grueling 4.5 mile trail leads up to the point. This past weekend I descended that trail.

The route I took up to the point was a bit more technical than the trail. It involved about 2500 vertical feet of technical climbing. My partner? A certain Loobster, of course. We were in search of adventure and chose the Yosemite Point Buttress Direct route (hereafter the aforementioned route shall be known as and referred to herein as the YPB.)

Unlike the sport climbers that receive such bad treatment in rec.climbing and have as their motto "If there aren't fixed draws, then it's CRAP!", we were seeking a climb with committment and adventure. A climb with loose rock and runout chimneys. A climb with offwidths and... Wait a minute. That wasn't what we were looking for. This is what we found. We were looking for lycra babes...

We hammered out to the "secret spot" on Friday night listening to some Cat Stevens. I got one of his songs in my head and incessantly sang the only verse I could remember at every belay the following day:

The next morning we arose at 4 a.m. to find some clouds in the sky and wet roads in the Valley. I would later find out that it rained like a son-of-a-bitch Friday afternoon. Being bold climbers we immediately declared the route out of condition and headed over to the fireplace in the Awahnee. Well, at least that's what we wanted to do... The weather was supposed to be great this weekend and we were counting on it. After a breakfast of Cocoa Kripies and Cinnamon Rolls (isn't sugar one of the five essential food groups?), we packed up in the gloom of the Lower Yosemite Falls parking lot.

The Loobster was very concerned about the dreaded malaise of "Cinnamon Roll Finger" and thought how mortifying the accident report would look:

Needless to say the Loobster thoroughly washed his hands after breakfast. The bathroom at the trailhead was so warm I didn't want to come out. I was wearing a capilene shirt, a pile pullover and a lined shell and I was still cold. But it would get warmer...we hoped.

We had reconnoitered the approach climbing the previous weekend (which was posted also) and felt confident we could repeat it in the dark so we started hiking at 5:15 a.m. You gotta love these alpine starts. Going to sleep at 11 p.m., catching five hours of rest and hammering into the Valley munching on a Poptart and trying to keep your eyes open. You know you have had a good day in the Valley when you leave the car in the dark and return to it in the dark.

Frankly, this climb had me worried. After over 1500 feet of climbing on the approach the route was 14 pitches long. The hardest technical pitch was supposedly 5.9, but there was a "rotten chimney" pitch, an offwidth pitch, numerous pitches without ratings on our topo, and it was reportedly loose with difficult route finding. We had to make the rim before dark, but we knew the descent and could do it easily by headlamp since it was a trail. Hopefully both of our headlamps would work this time...that was getting to be tiresome. With our luck, this time they would both fail.

Thirty minutes from the car the Loobster says, "Uh oh. I forgot something essential!" Damn! We couldn't turn back now as we would lose too much time. Yes, the climb would be more serious without it and we knew we were opening a door to untold adventure, but we decided to continue...without the Loobster's chalk bag!!!

We soloed up the Sunnyside Bench route (5.4) and weaved our way back to the base of the gully. The same gully where the killer boulder came down. Soloing still, we climbed the gully (some 5.6) to the top. I was carrying the pack which was filled with four quarts of water, the climbing rack, our shoes, my harness, assorted necessities and our food. This load did not go unnoticed upon my back and I was wet with sweat when we reached the base of the route around 6:45. The Loobster carried our lead rope and our 8.8 mm haulline/retreat rope. It was very windy here and cold. The sky had some clouds, but none dark and we hoped things would improve when the wind died down.

After attending to various bodily functions and a brief rest to drink our first quart of water, we started up at 7:15 a.m. The first pitch went smoothly at a reasonable 5.8. The Loobster led it and I followed with the pack. I moved past the Loobster and onto a large, broken, loose ledge. Here I traversed right and then descended quite a ways before I could climb up further left to the base of a nasty looking offwidth crack. After bringing Lou over I started up the pitch with #4 Camalot at the ready!

I was glad to have just practiced my offwidth technique the previous weekend, but sad to have forgotten my kneepads two weekends in a row. Two weekends that I knew I would be climbing some wide pitches. What a chump. I also learned that the scabs I got last weekend climbing chimneys and offwidths needed more than a week to heal as I promptly broke them open and blood seeped through my pants to create a wonderful, fractal pattern. Despite this, the lower section went smoothly.

The upper half of the crack steepens considerably and becomes a pure offwidth with no flakes or edges with which to cheat...but that didn't stop me from cheating with my #4 Camalot! I hate to admit it on a 5.8, but damn this was hard and I gave that #4 just one good tug to get by a troublesome spot.

The belay above is very nice with a large tree to hang things from. I brought the Loobster up (after hauling the pack up the offwidth section) and he conceded that the pitch was difficult. He conceded this by falling on it. That's the way he normal concedes difficulty.

Our plan was for me to lead the even pitches and the Loobster to lead the odd pitches. This would give me the 5.8 offwidth, the "rotten chimney" pitch, and the endurance 1.5" hand crack pitch. Unfortunately this left the Loobster with the third pitch which we thought was a chimney pitch with a constriction. I was sure that if this pitch looked as nasty as it could be then the Loobster would blanch and suggest, "You know, Bill, I think this is a pitch that is more ideally suited to your particular skills." Which, translated, means: "Bill, you aren't smart enough to turn down this lead." Surprisingly, this did not happen.

To start the third pitch you must descend (via the tree and a wide crack) about 20 feet to an eight inch ledge that becomes a hand traverse around a blind corner and into an absolutely hellacious chimney offwith pitch. The hand traverse into this chimney is reminescent of the traverse into the Peapod from the top of Karate Crack in Smith Rocks except that this chimney is hundreds of feet off the ground and there is no "floor" to this chimney. The exposure is daunting.

The Loobster disappeared around the corner and yelled back discouraging comments.

I was waiting for the inevitable "You do this pitch", but it didn't come. For the next 45 minutes I fretted over our valuable daylight slipping by and listened to the faltering, scraping sounds of the Loobster's boots seeking purchase on the smooth wall. The rope creeped out with agonizing sluggishness. I knew that the leader is never aware of how long a lead takes because he is so involved with the situation at hand, but I plotted to make pointed comments anyway.

I was flabbergasted to hear voices as I belayed. How could that be? Up here? No one climbs this route! I crept over to the edge of my alcove and peered clandestinely around the corner, careful to not be observed. Sure enough there was a climber over at the top of the first pitch. Damn, we would be having some company. I monitored their progress as I was belaying and I saw them confused about where to go for the second pitch. I hoped they would go the wrong way but eventually they figured it out and headed my way. Just before I started to clean the third pitch, Craig topped out the offwidth. He was sweating profusely and beaten from his lead. I hoped that he was the stronger of the two and that once they saw this next pitch they would have the good sense to retreat.

I lowered out the pack for the Loobster to haul and it promptly got stuck up in the chimney. I would free the pack when I could reach it. Upon entering the chimney I was intimidated. It is one of the most hideous looking leads I have seen. It is a chimney/flare that goes up for twenty feet to where it closes down to a six inch slot where you have to chimney horizontally until you get out from under the roof and can continue up the right edge which is a nasty offwidth crack. Lou had placed a #3 Camalot buried deep into the roof where it finally closed down enough to accept a piece that small. I learned at the belay that Lou had slid along the #4 Camalot as a handhold on this entire section and had used other pieces of aid above.

The moves out of the chimney and into the offwidth were the crux and very strenuous and even, irrationally, somewhat scary to follow. Your handholds are armbars straight over your head and your feet are scraping madly to stem the flared chimney below. There is a tiny seam at the lip of the roof that helps for a foothold, but it is thin. Above the roof is a relentless crack that alternates between offwidth and hand jam width. I was wasted when I reached the belay and instead of bitching at the Loobster for taking so long all I wanted to do was shake his hand and be thankful that I didn't have to lead it.

This is an awesome pitch, truly body beating, and the crux of a difficult and continuous route. I wouldn't fully recover from this pitch until hours later.

I looked down to see the other guy (Tom) in the trailing team steaming up the pitch. Luckily the next pitch wasn't that long or hard (5.7), but it still had unprotected chimney sections. It ended on a nice ledge and I hauled up the pack. Loobster left the belay just as Tom reached him. We wouldn't see these guys for while after this as Craig got really wasted following the third pitch and they slowed their awesome pace and we moved on quickly.

The next pitch is supposed to go up another wide crack and then traverses right. The Loobster found a more direct way and avoided the wide crack by stepping right early. This involves a long stem into a thin crack with some exposure. I thought it was a dicey move when following but it didn't seem to bother the Loobster. When I reached the top of the thin crack I traversed right and then had to do a scary 5.7 face traverse down and further right to the Loobster who was 35 feet away from me with no pesky protection between us to distract me. The moves aren't desperate, but the edges are a bit crumbly and with the pack pulling me outwards it wasn't trivial.

I took over the lead and moved up vertical rock to a strenuous hand traverse right which ends in a corner system with some very large, precariously balanced loose blocks. I run the rope over the top of the blocks so that if they go they won't cut the rope and move upwards into, what else?, a chimney. This one is steep and slightly flared, but has a nice handcrack in the back. It is capped with a roof and you have to undercling out and around the block via some very nice and interesting moves. I was headed for the big pine tree that marks the top of the seventh pitch, but couldn't quite reach it due to rope drag. If it wasn't for the drag you could combine pitches 6 and 7.

The Loobster followed and quickly led the 35 feet to the belay ledge where he took a deserved break for some food and Gatorade. It was a little past noon. The weather looked pretty good at this point and we had shed a lot of our clothing, but not as much as we would have liked since there was no room in the pack.

Now I led off to the left and down a bit over to a corner. Up this corner and then into 40 foot crumbly chimney with a nice hand crack in it. This chimney ends on a nice big ledge. The ninth pitch goes up a huge low angle chimney and behind a monster chockstone. Once above the chockstone you must climb a vertical 5.7 offwidth crack which proves unprotectable and strenuous before easing up. The Loobster led this pitch while I talked with Craig as they had caught up with us.

I don't like to hold up other climbing parties. Not only for their concern, but I don't like to be pressured by another party either. But I have to balance this with losing valuable time by letting them pass. These two guys turned out to be great guys and when I said, "Sorry for the delay guys. Maybe you can pass us at the Pedestal," they responded with "No problem. You haven't been holding us up at all. We are just out to have a good time and aren't in any rush." Well, I wasn't exactly in a rush either, other than wanting to be off this climb before darkness or a storm besetted us. It probably helped that Craig was pretty whipped having never recovered from the third pitch. Tom wasn't having any problems at all and was clearly the stronger climber and would lead all pitches above the Pedestal.

It turns out that these guys had reconnoitered the approach last weekend also. I mentioned that we heard some guys up here and that it must have been them. Two weekends in a row the same two parties are doing the same things in a rarely frequented area. Unusual. They asked me if I heard the massive rockfall in this area and I told them "Heard it?! We knocked it off!"

Eventually the Loobster called off belay and I scrapped up the chimney behind the chockstone to the offwidth. Here the Loobster hauled up the pack for me and I ascended to the belay. The topo calls the next pitch a "rotten chimney." Now before you say "What other kind of chimney is there?" let me tell you that they are referring to the rock quality. This pitch heads around the corner to the left and then up on questionable rock to a rusty fixed pin. From here you have to get into this incredibly crumbly, wide, flared chimney. This section reminded me of a climbing at the Pinnacles called "Poodle with a Mohawk." It is a back/feet chimney and you very carefully place your feet on the flared wall so that the rock doesn't disintegrate and send you plummenting earthward. Of course, there is no pro.

The second half of this pitch is a super solid chimney with great rock and is capped by a roof. I chimneyed up to the roof and placed a Camalot straight up underneath the crack between the chockstone forming the roof and the chimney wall. Then I chimneyed out to the edge and laybacked up the chockstone. These moves are wild and just plain fun! The pitch ends on the Pedestal which is relatively flat and quite roomy. There is evidence of previous bivouacs here. My eyes are immediately drawn toward the wall above me and the awesome, slanting handcrack that I know is my lead.

At the top of the Pedestal the guidebook says "things will look grim." What an understatement! The wall above here looms steep and smooth. While a lot of the rock lower down had sections of crumbly rock this wall was of the finest Yosemite quality granite. Solid, smooth. The 450 foot headwall above is ascended by three very serious pitches. This is the toughest continuous section of the climb and should be considered the crux if it wasn't for the third pitch.

The 11th pitch moves off the lower left edge of the Pedestal with one of the most improbable face moves I have ever seen. The Loobster had one foot stemmed over to the face smearing on a near vertical dish and the other foot stretched out behind him still on the Pedestal ledge. For handholds you get a total of four fingertips (and I mean TIPS) in a shallow vertical crack. It just doesn't seem possible to step over. There is a shallow place for your other foot to go, but it doesn't look substantial enough to keep you on the rock. You have to push yourself over hard enough with your other foot to stick yourself to the wall long enough to move the other foot over and for your left hand to shoot out to good handhold. Dicey! From here Lou then could clip some unidentifiable, bogus fixed piece. Using this as a handhold he was able to move past the crux face section and on up to a shallow crack.

The crack above is protected by fixed pins placed at generous intervals. This is climbed by delicate layback moves as the crack slants strongly to the left and you feel a barndoor is eminent! The wall to the left is completely polished and offers no support. Eventually the crack widens and you can place hands and protection in it, but it is fairly continuous up to a shakey belay on top of a loose block. As the Loobster was setting up this belay (there are no fixed belay anchors on this entire route and hardly any fixed gear), it started to rain. This was getting serious. I thought I could do the next pitch even in the rain as it was a crack, but didn't know what to expect further up. Things were getting very serious here. Craig and Tom were also anxious to get moving. After what seemed like an eternity (as any time would in this situation), Lou finally called off belay.

Lou decided to haul the bag here and I was grateful. There was no good excuse for hauling the bag here (like a chimney) except that it was steep and would certainly wear me down. At this stage we needed to conserve our energy to get out of there before darkness and storms. The sky continued to look threatening, but held back the rain. I stepped over and didn't spend much time figuring out the crux free move before grabbing the sling. As soon as I did I saw a foothold I could step down on and had no trouble cleaning the draw and continuing up. The pitch was long, almost a full rope length, and tough. Tom followed me up the pitch as he was anxious to get off this climb.

When I reached the belay things were a mess. The Loobster, who is normally so diligent about rope management had really made a mess of the ropes. In his defense, the belay wasn't a good one and things were a bit cramped. This cost us valuable time as we had to straighten out the mess before I could lead on. In the meantime, Tom had setup a belay just right of us and Craig started climbing the pitch below us.

Eventually I was ready to go. The initial move is a monster stem (my limit) over to two cracks that shoot upwards and merge as they slant right. This is an absolutely incredible pitch and would be an undisputed classic if it was more accessible. It is about 150 feet long of unrelenting hand jams. It isn't as steep as Reed's Direct, but because of the slanting nature I think it is more strenuous. Maybe that is because it was my 12th pitch of the climb, but the difficulty was confirmed by all three other climbers none of which climbed it without hanging. Also, the first section of the crack is buried in a small flare ala the Stoveleg Cracks on the Nose and this makes things a bit awkward.

I steadily worked my way up the crack trying desperately to get some weight on my feet. Halfway up there is three inch ledge which provides the only rest on the pitch. Here you can get a no hands rest and here is where I noticed that the Loobster neglected to give me the larger size Camalots -- he had forgot they were clipped to his harness. I was able to haul them up on the haul line, thankfully. As I did so, I looked down upon three climbers feebly strapped to a vertical wall with a storm approaching all waiting for me to finish this damn pitch. I felt some pressure to keep moving.

Above here, with forearms screaming in pain I tried to clip a Camalot I had placed. I pulled up the rope, held it in my mouth and then pulled up some more for the clip, but as I went to clip it my forearm did not have the strength to hold the rope and push it into the biner. My arm just locked up. Try again. Same results. Now my other hand is pumping out so I have to drop the rope and hang on with both arms. I repeated this act four or five times before I got it clipped. I thought seriously about hanging on the piece and taking a badly needed rest. Why not? I hadn't freed this route anyway. I used one point of aid on the second pitch and one on the 11th pitch. Why did I have to free this pitch so badly? A storm was coming. Wasn't it more important to just get up it anyway I could?

I didn't hang for a rest and, thus, had to move on. I thought I saw a rest ten feet up and gritted my teeth in determination not to fall. My arms were numb with effort and swollen with blood as I battled my way to a preceived rest. Finally a face hold! I pull up on it and stand on some good holds below a small bulge. I see a fixed pin on my right and immediately clip it. Over the bulge is another pin and I can step up and clip it also.

I am almost out of rope, but don't want to do a hanging belay from two ancient pins and see a sloping ledge just over the bulge. With some tricky stemming moves I gain the ledge and discover seams, moss and no pro! The wall above me continues for 20 feet and there is no pro there either. Damn! I don't want to downclimb to the crack below for a belay. Finally, I garden out a small crack and am able to get in two stoppers one above the other. The rock looks fair and sounds pretty solid. There is no choice but to belay here and the anchors prove sufficient.

I haul the pack to return the favor to the Loobster and he starts up, but can't do the wide stem as he is shorter than I am so he actually starts down to try the traverse lower and falls. At least he is in the crack now and starts ascending. He is making steady progress and eventually he is fairly close to me and I ask him, "How are you doing Loobster?" "Cheating like a son-of-a-bitch!" he responds. Actually he only pulls on a couple of pieces in an effort to be expedient. Tom is leading up behind Lou (Craig declined this lead) and pressuring him a bit. When Lou reaches the bulge, eyes the quickdraw on the pin and turns to me, "Unless you have a strong stomach you are going to want to avert your eyes as this next move may disgust you." With that he reaches up and grabs the draw and hauls himself over the roof in one quick motion.

I have things arranged neatly trying to set an example of rope management and Lou is quickly off on the next lead. This turns out to be the most serious lead of the climb. It starts with a mossy, near vertical wall and Lou climbed unprotected directly above me. There was no way for me to hide and I just ducked my head and said, "Loobster, please don't fall on me again." He stepped across to a foothold and upon weighting it, the foothold disintegrated and softball sized rock screamed by my head. "Rock!" I yelled down to Tom and Craig. As the rock zipped by Tom, who was in the middle of his lead, he looks up with a big smile on his face and yells back to me, "Rock and Roll!" The guy didn't seem too worried.

Thankfully Loobster did not fall onto me when the rock gave way, but continued upwards. Here the angle lessens a bit up to a steep barrier. I chide Loobster until he puts in some pro. He explores one way and then the next until finally deciding on a long traverse to the left (this is somewhat marked in the topo which, by the way, is fairly accurate.) He traverses 40 feet horizontal while about twenty feet above his last and only piece. I am very nervous watching this and tell him so, but he claims there isn't anything else to do. It doesn't look that hard, but if he comes off there is little chance he will survive the fall.

While this is going on Tom has reached the belay and gardens out a small crack and puts in a single TCU for a belay anchor. This frightens me a bit as I have taken a liking to these guys and would be quite depressed to see them bounce all the way down the face. I suggested that he clip into my anchors "as a backup" and thankfully he accepted my offer. It was a good idea since Craig was having considerable trouble with the hand crack pitch and need tension. In the meantime Tom is telling me about an abortive attempt on Half Dome when they saw this guy soloing Tis-sa-ack. Apparently the guy had been nailing a hollow block all morning and eventually the car size block peeled off the face and sent him on a 70 foot fall, but miracously not cutting his rope or killing him. He said the guy just starting yelling, "You can't kill me, you $#@!%&! Not even with big rocks like that one!" He eventually finished the route, but you can see how crazy you must be to solo hard aid.

Anyway, the Loobster eventually finishes the pitch and I started to follow it with the pack. On the traverse I realize how serious things were. The moves aren't difficult, but the rock is extremely rotten and crumbly. Incredible care is necessary here as there is no hope for protection. The traverse ends at a 15 foot vertical layback/jam crack. This proved to be quite strenuous and I was glad it was so short. After surmounting this I was soon at the Loobster's belay and things looked a lot easier. There only remained one 4th class pitch to go.

Even the final 4th class pitch wasn't a gimme. It started easy enough, but then it reaches a steep wall with a 5.7 move or two and a final barrier. There were a number of options for this final wall and I explored them all. Two were too wet and steep to attempt with a 100 foot runout and no possibilities of protection. Another was a strenuous looking offwidth and I didn't want to do another one of those. I ended up traversing way to the left here and around a huge tree. This added quite a bit of drag on the rope, but was easy and safe. I belayed Lou up to here and then it was an easy scramble up to the rim.

We changed shoes here and coiled ropes, ate peanutbutter sandwiches, and drank more Gatorade. Upon topping out, Tom came right up to me and shook my hand, "I enjoyed climbing with you. Great route!" Craig was dragging up this final slope and stopping frequently. He had had all he could take physically and was whipped. These are two great guys.

We topped out around 5:15 and were hiking down 15 minutes later. There was a lot of snow on top and we did our best to avoid it, but had to do some postholing in our tennis shoes. Once we reached the bridge by the falls we were home free as the trail was clear of snow from here on down. This descent just seems to go on forever, but we talked constantly about our exploits and the hike zipped by. We had to hike the last 45 minutes by headlamp, but anticipated that.

We drove out of the parking lot at 7:30 p.m. having completed a great day. This is an awesome climb that I would highly recommend, but not for the 5.9 sport leader. You better be comfortable with wide cracks for this one and be able to move reasonably fast because of the sheer length of the approach and climb combination. A month earlier I did another long climb: Serenity Crack/Sons of Yesterday/to the rim and there is no comparison between the two in terms of effort, committment, difficulty, seriousness. YPB is considerably tougher even though the former has six pitches of 5.10. Ratings rarely tell the whole story... The YPB is the DNB of the south facing Yosemite walls.