Sundevil Chimneys, Solo, 1990
The year 2020 is the thirty year anniversary for me of climbing the Titan: February 1990. How did this come about?
No more work for a couple weeks, I was told. What to do? I wanted to climb the Titan but everybody I knew had already done it. So, with time on my hands, I decided to solo the Sundevil Chimney. I’d never rope soloed anything before but, really, how hard could it be? When I arrived, the Fisher Towers parking lot was empty, the entire place desolate and gloomy, small patches of snow in the deepest shade. I carried a couple loads to the base.The thing is, setting off from the truck I’d feel enthusiastic. Nearing the Titan, stumbling along the muddy trail under that immense northwest face, I entered a zone of cold dread. I was small, frightened, uncertain. And then I’d step around that last corner into the sun—and into a different world: warm, welcoming, canyon wrens singing. Optimism reigned. But still, I knew, carrying loads was not the same as actually climbing....
Looking up at the great southeast face of the Titan. The Sundevil Chimnneys ascend cracs left of center into the obvious cleft high on the cliff
Next morning dawned brute cold. I rushed to the base then fussed for hours setting up a belay anchor by wrapping a rope in an intricate web around boulders near the base. Time wasting, for sure, putting off the awful decision.Then the time came. I could delay no longer. The sun was shining, the rock was warm, I stepped onto the rock. At the first placement, the fear came back, stronger than ever. I stalled, began thinking of what else I could do instead of this stupid climb. All manner of fun things, obviously. Why subject myself to this ordeal? Why was I even here? While my brain was being distracted, my body made up its mind and stepped back to the ground.
A voice came out of nowhere, “What are you doing?”I looked around to see, just a few feet away, a young couple, tourists, nicely dressed, smiling, evidently enjoying a hike in the morning sunshine. The only people I was to see on this entire trip. Obviously, they were curious as to what this strange person, festooned with gear, was up to. Dragged out of my inner turmoil and forced to appear sane and pleasant, I uttered, “I’m climbing.”
Selfie
And there they were, the fateful words. The couple mulled this over, eyed up the preposterously steep cliff above us. A sharper look now, “You’re by yourself?” “Umm, yes.” I was in for it now. Shamed into putting my words into action, under watchful eyes, I stepped back up and began excavating a placement. Then another. At some point I looked down and they were gone. But by that time, so was I.