Jesus of Idyllwild

The Temporary Salvation of Sierra Club Leaders

Summer, 1994

My second trip to Suicide Rock really got me hooked on this climbing craziness. On my first trip I had followed Glenn Sager up Serpentine on the great Weeping Wall slab. I remember looking down the apparently blank face from the teeny belay stance on the first pitch and thinking "God, do I really want to be doing this". The second trip I went with Richard Hughes and crew. Before starting up the trail Richard asked us about our climbing levels and I recall saying something like, "I can probably lead 8 or 9 and follow 10b". A year and a half later, after being scared shitless on many a 5.7, for example Upper Royal's Arches on Tahquitz, I can't really remember where I got such a high opinion of myself.

Up we went to Suicide's North Face to avoid the summer heat. When Bob Pinsker developed a sudden intestinal ailment, I condescended to take his place swapping leads with R.J. Arnold up Tabby Treat, a mere 5.1. It was in fact my first multipitch lead climb. Despite this climb having numerous good ledges to stand on for placing protection, I managed to get myself into many an exciting fix, hanging off of jams or standing on small edges trying to stuff in a cam which was always the wrong size the first try. When we made it to the top I felt great, despite the fact that it was "only a 5.1". Although I didn't really think about it at that point, I realized later that maintaining your poise, persistence, and style, and relying on yourself, while facing the uncertainty and fear of leading was what I wanted to achieve in climbing and why "I really wanted to be doing this".

Anyway, this story is more about our descent following a great day of climbing ...

I was hiking down the rather steep trail with R.J. and a group of other Sierra Club leaders. I don't recall exactly who the others were, although I'm sure Richard was not there. Somewhere along the trail as we were crossing a downed tree, R.J. slipped, landing on the nib of a branch and lacerating his thumb pretty nicely. Despite their typical admonishment of new Sierra Club members to always carry the 10 Essentials, not a single Sierra Club leader, nor I, for that matter, could come up with anything resembling a BAND-AID. As we watched blood drip from R.J.'s thumb and thought of leaves tied with bark strips, out of the darkening forest walked a man looking very much like Jesus should look to those of us who are raised in the southern Christian tradition. His hair was long and slightly wavy, his beard neatly trimmed, his gray/blue eyes looked softly on us. I think he might have been wearing one of those mexican ponchos which look remarkably robe like. Only the gym chalk still on his hands was somewhat out of place.

"Excuse me, but would you have a BAND-AID?", I asked. "Sure thing man", was the reply. His follower stood silently behind him as he produced the article from his pack. By the time we had R.J. bandaged up, the man and his friend had disappeared. I've never seen them since.

We continued happily walking and talking down the trail only to miss the turn-off from the road to the second trail. With no one to save us but ourselves, I and the Sierra Club leaders were almost half a mile down the road before we figured it out.

It's not always easy to transfer the lessons of climbing to the rest of your life.

A Los Alpinistas story by Tom Osborne.