NIAD Trip Report

My goal for this trip was simple: climb the Nose of El Cap. And yet, there's something very different about goal setting and goal execution. When dreaming up lofty goals, I'm often in the comfort of my own home, watching videos of rad people making rad things look fun and easy. When I'm in a position of "goal execution", I'm scampering around Camp 4 evading rangers, while the Valley's granite monoliths loom over me like that moment yesterday when I almost fell toproping 10a.

Sacherer Cracker - the 10a I barely sent on TR

But things loom over you. It's human nature, and it isn't always bad. The stress and risk involved in some of the more technical sections of the Nose caused us to rethink some of our tactics and make them both safer and more efficient.

So my partner Danny and I set out to climb the Nose of El Capitan over 3 days after about 10 days of practice.  Despite previously poor experiences and much hesitation beforehand, we styled a nearly flawless ascent, far exceeding our estimated pace and ditching water accordingly! We made it to our planned bivy - El Cap Tower - by noon, and charged on until being slowed by other parties. We settled in beneath Camp IV and blasted to the summit by 5pm the following day.

View from Camp IV - where we spent the night on our first run up the Nose.

In short, we climbed the Nose in 2 days, "wall style", hauling 3-4 days worth of supplies.

Valley locals were quick to scoff at our self doubt. "Hauling up the nose on a 2 day ascent? Why? WHY?  Just ditch the pig and do it in a day! It would be way easier!" We were repeatedly encouraged to try the NIAD.

And so the seed was planted. Still, we drove around the valley feeling as though we could retire from climbing for a while - just get tan and drink beer in the meadow for the remainder of the trip. Mission accomplished, right? But we quickly realized that we needed a new objective. We still had a little over a week left, and agreed we had two options: pick a hard free route to try and redpoint (such as Romulan Warbird or Final Frontier), or do what was really on our minds - NIAD.

We quickly settled on NIAD, and it was chaotic and exciting to learn all of the creative tactics that revolve around speed climbing (the cool kind, not the one with red holds). We practiced short fixing, running the Pakistani Death Loop (PDL), simul climbing, double pendulums, and more!

Danny "posing like Jesus" on our descent after doing the South Face of Washington Column IAD.

It was so thrilling! Never before had my beta essays said things like "5.8 to green c3, left crimp, clip pin, stem, purple c3, stand to bolt, call take, lower 12 feet, backclean c3 and pin, pendulum to gray c3". Placing and pulling on gear became moves on the route. This was all so new! Not quite sport or traditional, I didn't know what color box to check for this? I developed efficiency as a french free climber. Over the next 5 or 6 days, we did 1-2 laps to Sickle Ledge each day, which entails the first 4 pitches and the hardest aid climbing on the route. On our NIAD attempt I would lead in one block to Dolt Tower, so I lead every pitch on these laps to Sickle.

Our first run up took approximately 4.5 hours. By the end of that week I was climbing in about 1 hour and 10 minutes. Progress was shaping up well.

Another shot from the descent of Washington Column

We had one last benchmark test we wanted to pass, and that was a practice run up to Dolt Tower. We set out to do this a couple of times, but never even got on the wall, once due to the overwhelming number of slow-moving parties, and once due to poor weather. We were anxious now. My flight left Wednesday afternoon from LAX, and weather was not clearing up until Tuesday. We had one chance to pull this off, and if we didn't, then I'd need to find an alternative way back across the country.

On Monday, we lounged. We lounged HARD. The rack was ready (already on my harness in the correct order for placement), and we read and napped in El Cap Meadow as the skies cleared and brought in some nicer weather. The previous few days of rain had chased most climbers off of the wall. As we inched our way closer and closer to nightfall, nerves grew. Here was our plan:

Hike to base with gear around 9/10pm. Sleep until 11:30pm. Quick PB sandwich, chug as much water as we possibly could, rack up, chug again, blast off at exactly midnight.

And all of that happened - except the sleep part. Between the nerves and the passing hikers/climbers flashing their headlamps our way, there was no chance of sleep. But it was 11:30 now, and we had 31 pitches to climb.

We scrambled up the 4th class to the start of the first pitch. I shed my down jacket, leaving it there with a silent hope that I wouldn't regret it (it was 38 degrees and pitch black). We checked the time and it was exactly midnight. A mandatory fist bump and I was off! I cruised up a few feet of familiar jams, made unfamiliar by the darkness of the night. I placed my first piece (a green c3) and pulled up, quickly realizing the route was still seeping from the previous rains. I almost fell on a mandatory free move, which got in my head. This is the first pitch, your hesitation is making you slow. Danny's silence left me imagining wildly what he must be thinking: "uh oh, rough start. These are the only pitches we have practiced and we aren't even on schedule..."

Of course this was totally psychological, as I was in reality moving at a great pace. I ran a PDL to a stance on the second pitch, and right as I got to where I wanted a belay, Danny had arrived to put me on. I cranked out 15 feet of slippery 10+, pendulumed right, then raced up to the anchor. Here I self belayed for some finicky aid climbing, and made really quick time pausing only at the very end where I must mantle onto a small ledge. I pull up all the slack and run a huge 80-100 ft PDL to start the 4th pitch, because I know I can move SUPER fast here because of the abundance of fixed gear. I hold my breath as I trust an ancient fixed c3, and once I'm past I am feeling very well again! I've now arrived at the pendulum and Danny is just in time to put me on belay. He lowers me, I swing over, layback to Sickle Ledge, and fix the rope with over 100 ft of slack left for me to run up the 4th class.

THE FOLLOWING IS THE COOLEST PART OF THE ENTIRE NIAD EXPERIENCE.

Once Danny has finished following, I am well on my way into the 5.9+ section. I had never lead here before, so I was in onsight mode, by headlamp. Danny has me on belay at this point, and I clip the anchors and call for a take. From Danny's stance on Sickle Ledge, to where I am hanging at the anchor, is almost a full rope length. So we got creative!

I call for a take, and Danny reels in on the grigri. I am at a pendulum point now, and need to be lowered quite a ways. Danny then begins to free climb with an assisted toprope courtesy of my counterweighting him. As he climbs up, I am lowered down and begin swinging to the right. Once low enough, I yell for him to stop. I snatch the corner, climb 50 feet or so of no-fall 5.8 to another pendulum point. I clip a bolt and ask for another take, and Danny takes off free climbing on a power toprope again while I am being lowered and swinging into the stovelegs!

There is something just purely rad about simulclimbing on a big wall by headlamp after engineering some wild speed shenanigans.

One morning, I was woken by the voices of Alex and Tommy simulclimbing Freerider. A small step up from our 4th class simuling...

I was feeling much better mentally at this point, and we had agreed to rerack here. I turned off my headlamp and gazed at the valley below. It was a perfectly clear night, and I was just started to feel cold (still sub-40 degrees) as Danny arrived at the anchor. The next 400 feet or so flew by as I jammed and leapfrogged cams up perfect splitters. I knew if I made it to Dolt tower before dawn, I was on time.

I finished my block standing atop Dolt, and readied the gear for Danny as I would be following the next 9 pitches to Camp IV. I finally asked Danny what time it was: "Three thirty!" YESSSS! First 11 pitches in 3:30!

Danny hydrating on El Cap Tower during our 2-day ascent. We arrived here around 4-5 am during the NIAD.

Perfectly on schedule, we swapped leads efficiently and were at El Cap Tower in less than an hour. We passed some friends who were sleeping there and were atop the Texas Flake soon enough. Danny styled the one section of the route which had him nervous - a few moves transitioning from the bolt ladder into the boot flake. Soon enough he had landed the King Swing on Eagle Ledge and I was re-aiding to see what this King Swing was all about!

I had followed this pitch on our two day ascent so I didn't get to do the swing, but without haul bags it was quicker for me to also do the King Swing as I followed Danny. I'd largely underestimated this maneuver, and after a few failed swings, I tensioned over as Danny threw me a small tag line to help me cheat my way to Eagle Ledge. I handed him the rack and he also experienced a bit of hesitation here with some seeping and hollow flakes. All went safely and smoothly though, and by the time we were at Camp IV our headlamps had long been stowed away! Winds were calm and it was a gorgeous day.

At Camp IV, we had climbed 20 of the 31 pitches, but this is considered to be the "halfway mark". We swapped leads again, and I began my second block of the day - 5 pitches to Camp VI. The Great Roof was certainly the slowest I moved on the route. In fact, Danny worried the sleeping party from El Cap Tower (now awake and moving) was gaining quickly on us.

I was a bit embarrassed but the wear and tear was evident in my climbing. These pitches were so much easier on our previous ascent when they were the first pitches of the day after a full night of sleep. Now I was pulling out my aiders in sections I had previously french freed. I finished the great roof and ran a PDL up the glorious Pancake Flake. What I had casually sprinted up freely the previous time now felt strenuous and quite scary without a belay.

I slowly worked my way to Camp V, and awaited Danny here without short fixing. The aid climbing from here to the Glowering Spot is somewhat serious, so I eagerly rested until being properly on belay. I actually made pretty good work of this pitch, and it was now late enough in the morning for Tom Evans to have snapped this cool photo!

I'm in the green leading some tenuous aid, while Danny belays from Camp V.
Photo: Tom Evans

I was a bit rejuvenated at the thought of only having one more pitch to lead, so I quested up to Camp VI as fast as I could, wishing I could enjoy the perfect 11- corner instead of leapfrogging green, red, and yellow camalots up the pitch. Regardless, I pulled onto the luxurious Camp VI and my block was OVER! With one hell of a view, I awaited Danny beneath the changing corners pitch.

Danny resting on Camp VI during our 2-day ascent.

5 pitches from the summit! At this point we were both battered, but confident the summit was in the bag. I lagged quite a bit as I followed, as the pitches were steep and sometimes overhanging here. My biceps cramped as I jumared behind, but it was irrelevant now. We could take hours per pitch and still summit in time. However, perhaps the most important time constraint which we managed to succeed at is topping out in time for pizza at the pizza deck! Danny flew through the final bolt ladder and after I'd followed, he let me scamper up the last little bit of 3rd class to the El Cap Tree!

I can't say this is a dream realized, because I had not dreamed I would be able to pull off such a feat going into this trip. Standing on top of El Cap after 13 hours and 44 minutes of climbing was totally satisfying. I peacefully power napped and sunburned until starting the descent. I've never been more willing to spend $26 on a large pizza to myself. It had been well earned.

Swollen joints and a bloodied hand are small prices to pay, and they make you look tough.

*I elaborated much more on my leads for this ascent, because I never lead any of the pitches on Danny's blocks, and following is relatively straightforward/uninteresting. However, this was a 100% team effort and Danny was the perfect partner. He styled some of the more difficult pitches, such as the Texas Flake Chimney, the King Swing, Lynn Hill Traverse, and the Changing Corners. THANK YOU DANNY! We were psyched and safe, and somehow we ended up being relatively fast as well.

And there you have it!

As a Student

I'm in a funky spot, as I often get touted as that "kid" who is simply riding his talent through the grades, perhaps accused of not earning my progress. However, I am also empathetic with these individual's cries because I did not start climbing at x months old. I will never feel the satisfaction of flashing your project in my diaper, or using your crimp as a full, 3-pad jug. "Kids these days", they say. Sure, I'm young, but the only difference in how that crimp on your proj feels to me vs you is the difference in our finger strength, because my fingers are the same size as yours. And this finger strength - I might add - I've worked damn hard to cultivate.

What the majority of my days consist of - falling.

Let me start by saying what follows has been developing inside of my head for quite some time. I do recognize that I've made quick progress. I also realize there are others that have made quicker progress. I'm certainly not the best, but I'm not convinced that anyone is. However, I believe there is a fundamental difference between becoming a stronger climber and becoming a better climber.

I consider myself a student of climbing. I am helplessly yet gratefully in love with the act, the lifestyle, the "sport", whatever - climbing. And I believe this is the reason for my success or progression. I'm excited to learn. And the key, folks, is that your stoke to learn has to exceed your stoke to send.

Don't get me wrong, I'll tally my points, post my victory gram, and swear like a boulderer in bad conditions if I fall. I love to send, but as cliche as it may sound, the process is where the difference lies between strong climbers and good climbers.

An early learning experience in the realm of flaring offwidth. The Quest (10+)
"The hardest 20 feet of your life" said the guidebook.

I often catch myself doing exactly what I'm about to encourage you not to. My high school literature teacher once told me the difference between 2 authors (their names escape me...) is that one will say just what he needs to say in the bare minimum amount of words needed, and the other will spew on for 4 chapters just to describe the context of the point he is finally going to start making. I am the latter. If you give me the chance, I will drown you in beta - not because I have an impulsive need to share it or because I want to showboat. I do it because I genuinely want you to succeed. I want the odds stacked in your favor, and I feel privileged when I can help enable these successes and milestones for you.

Mid-betaspray!

But oftentimes, I'm hurting you more than I am helping. My best friend John recently tried a notoriously difficult 12b called Movie Star. He pulled the crux off the hang with my beta, but with some trouble and serious doubt about pulling it from the ground. He went back without me, and discovered a new sequence which, though unorthodox, worked substantially easier for him. Boom. He stuck it from the ground that session. Sorry John...

I'd say generally, when you sacrifice this learning process in exchange for friends' beta, video beta, easier routes, etc., you'll up the grades, you'll send my former projects in half the time. But you'll do it without learning. Why did you place your foot on that low smear instead of the huge ledge 4 inches higher? Why was your knee pointed in that way, and why was your heel hook placed at just that angle? Why did you shake your left arm last? 

This brings me to my final comparison: the student versus the fan. A student of climbing will understand, or try to understand, why all of these details matter. A fan of climbing - someone not devoted to learning but to performing - might have all of this beta from a video, a friend, a guidebook, but it will only work for this one route/problem. They may even understand why these details help them on their project/send, but that will be the extent of it.

As a student however, I will move on to the next unknown route, and apply my understanding of how to move well and read a sequence in order to make quick work of it independently, sans beta. Here lies part of the difference between being a good flash climber and being a good onsight climber. I enjoy both, but I certainly hold more respect for a good onsight climber.

A final note is that there is value in being a strong climber. If the "process" isn't your thing, I suppose you're learning a different art.  And if performing well is as fun as climbing well, then by all means - do your campus/hang/moonboard link-ups and whatever else is in style for beefing those digits. I respect it. If I had access, I'd do it all too.

An example: I'd watched a video of this route being done with an all-points-off left hand dyno. I finally was convinced to try going off of a different hold and throwing with my right hand - voila! Easy, and keeping one point of contact! Be open.

Keep in mind every sentence here could be started with "In my opinion". I'm not claiming facts, I'm expressing my thoughts. Hope you guys can connect with them!

Southern Stoke

What up?

So much is going on right now in the mecca that is Yosemite, it's hard to adequately brag about all the sick 5.Dawnwallminus2 clip-ups that are going down. Ya know, if I add together my warm ups, my project burns, the vertical gain from the heinous double digit (in minutes) approaches I do every time I go out, I'm pretty sure that number comes close to the 3000 feet of choss or whatever that temperamental Czech is climbing.

Sure it's pretty, but a 15 minute approach...that's twice
as far to walk as it is to my project here in the South...
AND I have to carry a rack?!

Let's not forget the Dawn Wall of bouldering that Nalle has established. The Lappnor Project, now dubbed Burden of Dreams at V17, ushers in a new era of pebble-pulling. An overhanging face so devoid of holds, I bet Nalle didn't even have to brush any dirt or spiders off, as it was too blank for even their efforts.

Behold, a single boulder with more holds than the entire Dawn Wall combined.

In any case, you've all probably heard the hypest hype: V17, Dawn Wall, Zodiac Free, Dihedral Wall 2nd Ascent, Skwamas, Sprinter Vans, Global Warming (aka worldwide perpetually bad conditions), etc. Let's move into some more, er, "local" hype.

Having put down the long term project, Unshackled, I've been switching things up for a little bit recently, and starting hunting for some new new. I've tried some new lines - some involving bolts, some involving pads, some involving gear. Here is a list of short-ish term goals I've laid down that I can really get it up for:

Edge of Might 12+ R (Sunset Park)
This one is a trad line that wishes it was a sport climb. Steep, bouldery, dynamic, powerful. About 60/70ft of unreal movement with an element of spice right at the crux due to some very small, tricky gear. Much psych for this one, though it may be getting too cold soon (north facing, very windy).

Roughin' Up the Suspect 13c (Obed)
This is fun, plain and simple. A 12b/c intro takes you straight into a crux v7/8 boulder problem, involving huge campus-ish moves on surprisingly good holds. Much MUCH psych for this one. Killer 11a from the end of the crux to the anchors as a cherry on top.

Bionic Rats V8 (Rocktown)
Whereas the previous one was fun, plain and simple, this line is BEAUTIFUL, plain and simple. I've done all but one move, and then linking may take some effort. But nonetheless, this guy alone is worth the drive to Rocktown.

Less talk, more walk - I know.

So here's what's been going down. I possibly get more psyched talking about climbing and feeding psych to my friends than I do actually climbing. It's been rad getting out with good people recently and seeing them push themselves and succeed, because I know their success is in part due to my own psych and experience that I share. Shoutout to my buds Will and Chris for their first 5.12 flash of the incredible Ripple (12a). As soon as I did this I knew I wanted them to flash it. That day, my partner John and I went up a few times and made sure we had the best beta possible (in case I had missed something as I did it first go). We brushed some things and made some mental ticks. Essentially a v4 boulder off the ground, into 40 feet of 5.10 jugs, finishing with a tricky v3 sequence, all with perfect feet and a gorgeous setting. Will and Chris cruised, but not without making me break a sweat squirming over the final ledge to clip chains...props guys!

Chris on his flash of Ripple (12a).

Am I boring you with numbers? Alright back to goofing off. Some elements of southern style that have occurred recently:

• Trying to find a new crag, getting lost, and finding an old moonshine still instead.
• Becoming a little too excited about learning to take our shirts off while on a jug. 
• Falling on the easy sections of a project because you ripped off a honkin' jug.
• Relocating where you watch from because it's raining honkin' jugs...
• Watching some core Chattanooga developers crush your project while carrying on a conversation with you about differential equations and vector analysis.

Gotta love it here. 

Pretty sure the above is what Patagonia looked like when it started?

 The semester is winding down for me, and I am excited to be picking up an old friend from the airport and roll on up to the New River Gorge for big things. Top of my list is to revisit The Greatest Show on Earth (13a), which I spent 3 hours or so cleaning and whacking down spiders from on my last visit. Hopefully the cold has kept them at bay, because I feel like this route will serve as a huge milestone for me. It's perfect. Face climb to the roof, do some hard horizontal bouldering, then crank out the most beautiful and slippery 12- dihedral you've ever laid your eyes on.

Half climbing, half swinging my
draw at the endless spiders

Anyway, I'll leave you guys with one last bit of spray. I was thrilled to put down a canyon classic recently, Caliban (13b), involving one of the coolest sequences I've done here, and certainly the most exposed crux I've pulled in the area. I wish more people would try these obscure classics. In case you're hesitant - it is fully hung with draws, it's only 12b/c to the 2nd to last bolt, the crux boulder problem is on great holds (just really far between), and you can simply pull past on the draw if you need! Go try this 5 star line. Freshly chalked and brushed.

Cruxin! I wish I was taller...

Setting up for the final 2 moves on Caliban.

Also in case you've made it this far in the post without just leaving to visit 8a, I do want to make it clear - I don't believe Adam Ondra is a temperamental Czech, I know Nalle put in an unfathomable amount of work, and Patagonia has a very dignified origin. I'm always poking fun, and have nothing but respect for them all. Psych psych psych!! Happy craggin'.

Introduction to Me

This is (ideally) going to be an all-things-climbing blawg, and I think it's only fair to provide an introduction to the guy behind the scenes. The guy wacky enough to spell blog blawg and to create a representative site of who he is as a person and name it as a sporty knock off of a sweet potato, which is already a knock off of a real potato. Knock-off squared: BOOM. First point: I'm a math major. Have I lost you yet?

If I haven't lost you, here's a completely unrelated photo of me.
Lost now?

My name is Lohan Lizin. I became a climber 3 years ago. I climbed and climbed. Since then I've learned what a crimp is, I've learned not to drop your rope when you clean a route (by dropping one), I've learned GriGri's are not auto-locking (by being dropped), I've learned that soft catches matter (by spraining my ankle), I've learned to mind sharp rock (by core-shooting my rope...often), I've learned to eat well (after a rapid decline in health and motivation ensuing a week of Chef Boyardee), I've learned to move during the exhale and tie the knot long when I'm in a squeeze chimney (by getting stuck), and from it all I've learned to always be ready to learn.

Always learning. I've sent 5.13 in
fewer tries than this 10a squeeze took me

And here I am - I've taken lessons from multiple humbling experiences on El Capitan, as well as from the 54th fall on my 8 month project. I live in Georgia, but home is beyond that. Home is the belay seat below the Concave. Home is napping on my beaten crash pad underneath Sherman Photo roof. Home is taking my tape gloves off at Camp 4. Home is playing Cornhole with Del at the Obed.

Home underneath Separate Reality (12a), Yosemite Valley

I wouldn't call myself goal oriented, but more dream-oriented. There are things I dream of doing but I don't necessarily work towards that specific thing, like you would a goal. I do what I love and that usually happens to help me along towards realizing my dream. I love climbing and particularly I love experiencing places through climbing. I get bored taking walks and pictures. I need movement and struggle and beauty all in one.

Movement and struggle, in a beautiful setting.
Perfection in a route - Spellbound (12d)

I believe that's what draws me to projecting. My absolute favorite aspect of climbing is the ability to devote yourself completely to a line that inspires you enough to make you a different person - a better climber. Not necessarily a stronger climber, though that is often the case, but a better climber. The subtleties you learn in projecting can never be understood by anyone but yourself.

On a final note, take my most recent, and most involved, project that I have ever committed myself to. Unshackled is a 13b sport route that takes the most striking line up the gorgeous left side of the namesake Unshackled Wall. It IS the best route I have been on in the region, setting the standard for the triple crown of aesthetics, movement, and rock quality. It always sports fixed draws and since the first time I laid eyes on it about 2 years ago, I had to try. I fumbled my way to the second bolt. Months later, I came back again, barely scraping my way to the 4th bolt (12a to this point). I was captivated by this line. Finally, over a year since first trying it, I dogged my way all the way to the final crux (6th and last bolt).

Just below the last bolt on Unshackled (13b)

I was losing my mind trying to find beta for the last sequence - searching for videos, photos, comments, anything! Finally I heard rumor of a right sequence (I had followed chalk out left before). I went back out, and for the first time made it to the chains, having proudly done every move on the route.

This is the moment I went all in.

Every move was complete. Let the linking begin.

Here's the breakdown (warning black-box seekers):

An incredible 12a sequence to the 3rd bolt, with powerful moves on friendly holds down low, and a final delicate sequence which relies on flexibility (particularly your left leg). Easy moves lead to a kneebar rest which separates you from DA BIDNESS.

Once you're collected, a few easy moves lead you to the 4th bolt and another unnecessary kneescum rest. Now, you have 2 bolts separating you from the anchors. Three V5 boulder problems keep you from claiming your 1000 points.

First, a V5 revolving around an awful R hand sidepull/undercling, and finishing with a precise tension-y stab to a slopey, but deep, slot. Clip, set feet, and make another frustratingly precise deadpoint to a good R hand crimp slot (move shown in the last picture). I stuck this move less than 5 times from the ground before sending, despite it being the easiest of the boulder problems.

From here, you move up to a magical pinch. Truly. It's not unique in how you hold it or use it or anything. It's magical because it has always felt better to me when I'm pumped. When I was dogging or warming up/brushing holds, it always felt disgusting! But the few times I reached this pinch on point, it bit back. It held me as much as I held it. It was like the route had finally nodded its head to my hard work and was allowing me a chance to pass.

From this pinch, you have one final v5 that is brutally hard with a pump. You are, however, rewarded with the most spectacular finish, as you clip the anchor and top out the entire wall.

Two moves from the top of the wall, in the final V5 sequence.
Photo from my actual redpoint.

I'm a bolt clipper, a pad stacker, a gear plugger, a nerd, a clown, a climber. In any order really. Perpetually psyched on climbing, let some more adventures begin!