The 2004 Soft Body Classic, Royal Arches Route
Sep 10-12, 2004

by Bob Ryan

The annual Los Alpinistas Soft Body Classic for 2004 was an idea hatched from the brain of the Sloth who had successfully conquered Yosemite's famous Royal Arches route on a previous outing. This was to be a technically easy climb with a short approach. Little did we realize that the past year's SBC outing (clambering around on Mt. Conness) had set a precedent for future expeditions. As the target date drew near, the number of teams able to commit to the climb dwindled to three. Tuck and Chris, armed with the highest combination of experience and ape index would be the lead team. Stefan and Evelyne paired up with high expectations, while Bob and Kari (who joined us from her new bay area abode) would bring up the rear. Having studied the topos and rattled the Sloth for beta, we decided that this would be a potentially challenging undertaking due to the number of pitches and complicated downclimb.

Friday night five of us from San Diego arrived at the backpacker's campground concealed neatly beneath the true Royal Arches and traded stories with another group of climbers whose goal was to climb Snake Dike after first backpacking to Little Yosemite Valley. We then made our way to Degnan's for pizza and beer. Do not ask the man for a pitcher! There is a very restricted use for these decorative containers. Just as we finished our Italian feast Kari joined us having journeyed solo from her new haunts in the Berkeley area. We all made our way back to camp and settled in for an all too short night's sleep. Arising at 5AM, we sluggishly downed our breakfast in the dark, made our way to the car and headed for the Ahwahnee parking lot. The plan was get a pre-dawn start and hustle to complete 16 pitches and return before dark.

We managed to find a parking spot at the Ahwahnee and completed our gear sorting. Lots of last minutes thoughts were flowing through my mind as I considered the possibilities of the day. Would we be walking off, rappelling, how much water would be needed, take the walkie-talkies? Could we make it up the chimney with our packs stuffed with amenities such as extra clothes, hiking shoes, matches? At the last minute I decided to forgo my rappelling glove and bear repellant and off we went to stand in line at the base of the dreaded chimney pitch. After one other party, Tuck and Chris were first in our group to ascend. I was too busy getting my gear in order to observe his “tucknique”, but we had scouted the chimney the night before and I knew it was going to be tricky. Next off were Stefan and Evelyne. Finally it was my turn, and I slowly slithered up the slippery stone to the sturdy tree. Kari would make an attempt with some prodding from a couple of guys who had just given up trying the bolted start next to the chimney. Her pack was laden with not only her own supplies, but half of my water and my running shoes. We decided it would be best to haul her bag up to the belay, and so we had begun our journey. The time was already nearly 8:00.

We then scrambled a long way diagonally up the cliff on wide ledges until it was time to rope up. Many pitches of easy climbing followed as the sun began to warm the face. I took time to periodically take photos of the route and the beautiful valley below, marking our progress as we ascended ever higher. Following “Team Stefan,” we tried to keep our eye on Tuck and Chris as they quickly gained ground on us. Which way did they go? I think they went up this crack remarked Stefan. At this point Stefan went right and I went left, both fun little sections. I finally decided that the climbing wasn't all that difficult and offered to carry my own shoes and reduce Kari's burden. Our water supply began to diminish as well. Kari periodically resupplied my hip-slung bottle from her sack, and I nonchalantly lost track of how much of the precious liquid remained.

Finally we reached the pendulum, which meant that we were over half way there. Stefan clipped the fixed rope and went for a swing. The key here was to not grab the rope too high. A quick jog across the 10b face allowed for an easy grasp of a bomber flake. A fun but exposed 4th class traverse followed. When I next caught up with Stefan, he had gotten himself into a mungy right facing corner and did not appear to be having a good time. We heartily recommended downclimbing and trying the flakes to the right. Once past this minor dilemma, things got even more interesting. On the next pitch, Team Stefan took the 5.7 steep hands option, while Kari and I opted to traverse around the corner to an optional belay point. This was a lucky choice since I was close to Evelyne when her feet suddenly blew while cleaning a cam from and undercling where she ended up hanging from a sling whose biner had somehow lodged itself in a horizontal crack above. Luckily she was able to stand on her tippy toes on a ledge and call for assistance. I quickly put in a cam and made my way up to dislodge the troublesome biner and allow Evelyne to regain her composure. Close call! I continued up a long crack system, sharing an occasional biner placed by Stefan until I was sure I had used up the entire rope length. It took some good tugging to struggle the last few feet to a big sappy pine tree. I think we doubled up on pitches 12 and 13!

Well, they say things happen in three's, and so it was that Stefan found a nice face to ascend until things became suspiciously difficult. At that point the nice fellows who were behind us pointed out that the route traverses left here. They had done it before and were quite sure. I graciously offered to let them go ahead of us and show us the way. They would have no problem staying ahead of us novices. Following the exciting friction traverse we had only two pitches to go. Yippee! As agreed we passed by the start of the rap route and said goodbye to the nice young fellows who were on their way back to the valley floor. The final traverse proved to be challenging, rating a 5.8 at the very end. I made my way low across the slab, clipped a bolt and was looking for the illusive second bolt, as indicated on the topo, hoping to take the low road. My mind was made up for me when Stefan requested that I follow his high lead in order to retrieve a small cam stuck in an undercling above. I don't blame Evelyne for deciding to leave that one alone after the last incident. Soon we were off the rock and coiling ropes for the anxiously awaited walk-off. Our water was gone, but someone was looking out for us, as a spring miraculously appeared just 20 feet from the finish. Was it safe? We filled our water bottles as thoughts of giardia filled our heads. We had no choice and we knew it. After a short 4th class scramble we at last stood upon the rim. There was little rejoicing for we were dehydrated, tired and very unsure of how to get down. It was already past 4:30. It had taken us nine hours to climb.

Now referring to the North Dome Gully descent topo, we attempted to find a climbers trail that would lead us across the rim to the infamous gully. I knew that it wasn't recommended for the weak of heart, and definitely not to be attempted in the dark. Did we have enough time to find our way before sunset? We spread out and eventually found a trail that we all accepted as usable and tried to convince ourselves that the topo description matched our actual footsteps. We crossed a lichen covered slab extending seemingly all the way to North Dome and entered the brushy manzanita. After a short while we came to a steep gully that dropped precipitously away and caused us to stop and examine our progress. Surely there was no way down here, but the only trail continued upward and time was running out. So was our water. The anxiety in our foursome grew as we tried to determine our position on the ridge. Now thirstier than ever, I reluctantly conceded that we would not be getting down tonight.

OK, so the weather report at Wawona said temperatures on the rim could reach the 30's. I was hoping that was pessimistic. There was one more option. Mr. Topo alluded to a North Dome trail, 8.4 miles long that led back to Camp 4. If we really wanted to hike off, this would be our best option. We tried to contact Tuck and Chris on my walkie-talkie, but to no avail. My cell phone battery was all but dead, although it didn't matter since I would rather die than pay roaming charges. Kari had a phone too and luckily it was alive! We tried calling Chris, but only had his home phone number. Then Tuck. No answer. Was his phone locked in my car at the Ahwahnee? Were they even concerned about us? The next idea was to call Kari's brother in the bay area, who could do an internet search for 1) North Dome trail, 2) Yosemite Valley emergency numbers, 3) How to bivvy 101. Information began to come in and we frantically recorded phone numbers on our topo. Yes, we did bring a pen. In short order we were talking to the rangers, presumably sitting in a hot tub 1600 feet below drinking Coronas while amusing themselves with lost rock climbers. The phone connection was scratchy and Kari had the brilliant idea to ask if they could contact us on my walkie-talkie! Miraculously the ranger's voice came booming out on channel 5 a few seconds later. “This is Ranger Rick, what is your situation?” “This is climber Bob, we are 4 climbers just off the Royal Arches and trying to get down before Tuck and Chris drink all the beer, over...” “You would have to head northwest up the nearest drainage, gaining 1500 feet staying left of North Dome to pick up the hiking trail...” We all looked at each other skeptically. “...but I don't recommend it at night. Do you have warm clothes, water, and is everyone all right?” “Yes, I think we can manage until morning, over…” “OK then, you can bivvy by the cave rock at the top of the climb. If you make a fire, make sure it's out before leaving.” “Don't worry, we forgot the matches. Are bears a problem up here,? over…” “Naw, they're the wild type up there; just throw sticks and yell at them. Do you want us to call you in the morning?” “We should be OK. If someone named Tuck or Chris calls, tell them we're OK and that the car key is under the bumper. Can we call You when we wake up? Over…” “No, we don't monitor this channel. Good luck.”

Well then it was set. We tromped around looking for a piece of flat earth and settled in for a restless night. Our food was suspended from a measly little pine tree and our tired bodies were ready to cease movement for the day. The stars were beautiful and the night was warm for a seemingly long time. The only sound was the crumpling of Evelyne's space blanket and a scurrying mouse critter.

At first light we were all up immediately, eager to complete our epic and find the nearest drinking fountain. We would rappel this time. With two ropes among us, it shouldn't be too bad I thought. But first we would have to do the 4th class downclimb and reverse the 5.8 pine needle covered traverse pitch to gain the beginning of the rap route. I was hesitant and scouted the rim to the east discovering a huge pine tree covered with slings and rap rings. This was our salvation. We were able to lower safely to the ledge below and walk across to the anchors. The bad news was that we did not pass the spring in the process and had less than a liter of tainted water remaining among us. Off we went. The process ended up taking six hours! On the last rappel it was hard to believe it was finally over. There at the bottom were Tuck and Chris, greeting us with precious water and a “where have you been” look. We headed straight for Yosemite Village, “the same place we met Friday,” and indulged in a coveted pitcher of lemonade while trading stories of heroism and ineptitude. We then headed back to the secret backpackers camp and were happy to see that our tent was still there and the ranger had accepted our peace offering of $20 in the manila envelope. We loaded up our vehicles, never quite getting all the gear sorted correctly, while a bold little squirrel took up residence in Kari's back seat. Probably looking for a good place to store nuts. After saying our good-byes, we triumphantly departed the valley for points West and South. Our sense of adventure had not yet been satiated as we found ourselves seeking authentic Mexican food in downtown Bakersfield a few hours later. With Tuck behind the wheel of my Pathfinder, we cautiously pulled into the parking lot of Los Altos and were honored to be the only gringos present. This was going to a good meal. Finally, my long awaited reward - beer and a burrito. Another Soft Body Classic for the books.

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