Trip Report: Climbing Freerider on the Southwest Face of El Capitan in Yosemite
Team Australia cheesing after our successful ground up Ascent of Freerider. Photo cred: Brittany Goris
As a child, dreams are reality. There are no bounds to what you can do. Your imagination can take you anywhere, the moon is only a hop, skip, and a jump away. As we grow older it becomes harder to continue to let imagination drive our actions. As an adult it is easier to live under restrictions, so often I hear people say “I wish I could, BUT…” Surprisingly, it is much easier to stay in the job, go to work and put our passions to the side. There is always an excuse to not go to do the thing. In the fall of 2022 I made plans to go to Yosemite Valley and attempt the Freerider route. We ended up not even going due to a massive snow storm that raged the Valley earlier in the month. I came to realize that if I ever wanted to free climb the big stone I needed time. It is hard to get lucky with weather and partners if you are attempting a big wall over the course of one or even two weeks. In July of 2023 I decided I was going to try again, but this time I quit my full time job to create space for climbing during the summer and prepare myself for an attempt to climb Freerider.
There are so many factors that go into a big wall free climbing attempt: weather, partners, daylight, food, water… The list goes on and on. It is one of those things as a climber you are aware of from watching climbing films, but something that you never quite grasp until you are making it happen yourself. My climbing partner, Will Vidler, and I had been in the Valley for about a week before we decided it was time to begin our attempt up the big stone. We had done most of our food shopping on our way down to the Valley, but had to shop around the valley floor for some last minute things, like our poop container and a new pair of shoes. We did have to compromise and not buy a new static haul line, and instead used my Edelrid Swift Protect that was provided to me a year prior by Next Adventure. The Swift Protect turned out to work really well and did not even take too much wear. I was really impressed! All in all we packed enough food for seven days, eight gallons of water, two ropes, a tag line, two massive haul bags, a smaller day bag, a portaledge, and matching shirts and pants.
Prepping food and gear the day before hauling
Hauling day: Typically on big wall free climbing routes (especially in Yosemite) there is a day of pre-hauling where the team doesn’t do any rock climbing but gets the gear up a fair portion of the wall. For Freerider our plan was to haul to Lung Ledge (pitch 14) to give ourselves a good head start on the wall. Using the fixed lines that lead from the ground to Heart Ledge, one person would jug the line and begin hauling while the other arranged the haul bags and jugged behind the bags to free them when they got stuck. Neither Will nor I had attempted to free climb anything on El Cap before, so hauling on a two-to-one system was a new experience for us. Around the third fixed line, I arrived at the belay to see Will hauling like a madman to electronic music. He turned to me and said, “Botching is canceled.” Turns out once you decide to cancel botching the hauling will go much faster. From the Heart Ledges to Lung Ledge we were lucky enough to end up behind a German team who was fixing lines to Lung Ledge. This allowed us to just jug and haul to Lung Ledge without climbing. We decided that taking two rest days before attempting to free climb the route would give us the best chance of success.
The gear at the base of the Heart lines
Will putting in work pre-hauling
Day 1: The style in which we climbed Freerider was important to us. Since we had never touched any part of the route (including the Freeblast), we had the unique opportunity to give the route a ground up attempt. The term “ground up” means that you have never been on the route before and you start at the bottom of the wall and end at the top, free climbing every pitch. You can try pitches multiple times if need be, but there is no rappelling in from the top of the wall to try pitches. So on day one we stepped into the unknown and began our seven day excursion up the big stone. Day one was our hottest day by far, and we were climbing most of the Freeblast in the sun. The temperature right next to the wall had to be in the upper 90s. It was so hot that both Will and I developed horrible blisters on our left heels (weird that it was on the same foot for both of us). We each had to repeat one of the slab crux pitches on the Freeblast to ensure that we were both still sending by the time we got to the Heart Ledges. Both Will and I managed the move off Heart in some tries (which we were both really excited about considering the heat!). The Hollow Flake pitch is one of the first pitches that has a notoriously scary reputation. And for good reason! The pitch consists of almost 100 feet of downclimbing (at 5.11d), a traverse across a ledge system, followed by 200 feet of a 5.9 #7 offwidth to the top of the pitch. Since the pitch is a giant U shape off the belay, you can’t really place any gear until you are well above the belay and at that point you might as well finish the pitch. I led the pitch right at sunset and to my relief, onsighted it. As I was finding out, it is much better to try as hard you possibly can once to do a pitch than have to repeat it because you botched the beta. Will had to do the pitch in the dark but still managed it first try! We ended up having to share Lung Ledge with a party who was bailing off an attempt of the Salathe. Day one was our hardest day physically, mostly due to the heat. Hot days on El Cap are especially draining because the wall bakes all day long. We were quickly realizing that our water rations would not be sufficient to last us our planned seven days on the wall. We gained a gallon of water left behind on the Heart Ledges, and were gifted another gallon of water from the party bailing. As we went to sleep, we discussed our chances of continuing to successfully free climb, assuming the weather was to remain as hot as it was. From the beginning we had both decided that if we were to fail in our free climbing goal we would still top out El Cap by means of aiding pitches. Chances felt about 50-50.
Pitch one as the day breaks, so it begins…
Day 2: We awoke before the bailing party and packed up camp quickly to get out of their way. Just as we began up the next pitch, Alex Honnold and Tommy Caldwell came up behind us doing their pre-hauling day for their attempt of the Heart Route. Alex pleasantly chatted with us as the two of them climbed through to haul their bags higher and higher. He was especially stoked to give us as much beta about the route as we could think to ask. The main challenge for the day would be the monster offwidth, but when Alex said we would “literally die if you climb that in today’s heat” we opted to aid the 13c salathe pitch to the right of the Monster to get to the Alcove where we set up for the night. We would try to free climb the pitch in the early morning before the sun touched that part of the wall. Once again, we ended the day discussing how many more days we could withstand the crushing heat, and if we even had enough water to give a decent effort without suffering from dehydration. Will said it best when he got to one of the belays, “I’m not feeling all that cash money.”
Day3: The day began at 4:30 a.m. to make coffee and scarf a bar down before rapping back down to the belay before the Monster offwidth. The pitch only goes at 5.11, but much like the Hollow Flake you traverse and down-climb a fair way before you even get into the Monster. The Monster itself is in the vicinity of 200 feet of offwidth groveling. Arriving at the belay, neither one of us wanted to give first crack at the pitch, and since I had led the Hollow Flake I gingerly told Will he should probably go first since fair is fair…right?! Turns out the down climb into the Monster is one of the many sleeper cruxes on the route! And since you are downclimb-traversing, you can’t really place any gear. Will attempted the down climb a few times until the final one where he had his hand on the side of the Monster crack and peeled off to pendulum whip all the way back into the previous pitch, the Ear. Arriving back at the belay, I offered to give the pitch a try. I can’t say I even remember what the climbing felt like, but all of a sudden I happened to be in the offwidth crack. From there, I began the long slow wiggle that one does when they don’t know how to offwidth climb, but they want to do the damn pitch more than they want to try again. One would have to choose to fall out, but making upwards progress is really taxing. It felt like a pure test of mental willpower because at any point while leading the pitch you could grab your gear and hang on it. I was constantly fighting off the urge to sag onto my gear and call it quits. At one point close to the top of the pitch I got my #6 cam stuck and spent a good 20 minutes wiggling it out while trying to hold my position. Finally getting the cam out, I was able to claw my way to the top of the pitch. I wasn’t sure how long I had been leading, but it didn’t matter because I did the damn thing and I didn’t have to try it again (later Will would inform me that it was close to two hours). Will was able to follow the pitch cleanly on top rope just as the sun was kissing the pitch. We celebrated with cups of tea in the Alcove. Our stoke was restored; we had both done one of the more notoriously physical pitches on the route! We decided to move our camp up to El Cap spire and fix ropes beyond that as far as we could. Once again, at the end of the day we began to feel motivation waning. We were slipping into the fatigue hole. Realistically, we only had enough water to hang around and try the Boulder Problem for one, maybe two, sessions before we would have to start bailing upwards. Both Will and I were incredibly proud of ourselves for getting this far, still free climbing, and ended the evening saying, “We will try until we fail.”
Accurate depiction of how you feel post monstering
Will basking in sunset glow atop El Cap Spire
Day 4: We awoke to another blazing hot day. Today was the first day we would try the Boulder Problem pitch (the only 5.13 pitch on the route). We arrived at the Boulder Problem in the sun, and to save time and energy we opted to aid past the pitch and set up camp on The Block and rap back in to try it in the evening. Will had an epic aid experience, which included ripping nuts to heroically get us to the top of the Boulder Problem. I led the Sewer pitch (which, spoiler, is kind of a sleeper pitch I almost dropped the top), and to our surprise our friends Adrian and Brittany had rapped from the top of El Cap and brought us extra water! They had been trying the crux pitches of other routes and found loads of water scattered around the top of El Cap. When they rapped on through they brought it to us! This was huge. We could stay on The Block for another two days and try the boulder problem. Our only excuses for not being able to do the route now would be our lack of motivation or climbing ability. As our friends continued their commute down the wall, Will and I discussed the logistics of the next few days over tea (all of our important decisions were made with tea). We decided we would try the Boulder Problem that evening in the dark, rest the next morning, try it again the evening of day 5, and if we needed to try it again we’d do so the morning of day 6. But by day 7 we needed to be going to the top as we would be out of food and water by then.
Will unfazed by the exposure Photo cred: Brittany Goris
Finishing up the Sewer pitch getting to The Block Photo cred: Brittany Goris
Day 5: A “rest” day. We rested until 2pm at which point we rapped down to the Boulder Problem to check out beta. We each top roped the pitch twice, finding the best way to climb each portion. The whole pitch comes down to an intricate set of moves through the last bolt where one can either karate kick across empty space to land on an opposing wall, or set up with high feet and jump to an edge on the left. After trying both ways, Will and I opted for the jumping beta which, mind you, felt absolutely crazy. You get to do all points off dyno some 1,800 feet off of the ground. As the light was fading, Will decided to give it a lead go. He did well, making it most of the way through the pitch, but could not quite put it all together. I gave the pitch a try as the darkness was taking the wall and got all the way through to miss the edge at the end of the jump. We were extremely excited. We both had come pretty close to sending the pitch and had another morning to try. As we sat sipping tea before bed, the discussion of what we were going to do if one or both of us wasn’t able to do the pitch ensued. The route still felt like it was totally out of reach. Even if we both managed to send the Boulder Problem, we still had to redpoint the Enduro Corners, the Round Table Traverse, and the Scotty Burk (plus do all of this on our last day with 800 feet or so of climbing to the summit). The doubts that were once whispers began to scream into our dreams as we fell asleep.
Our home on The Block while we worked the Boulder Problem
Day 6, part 1: It was another early morning on the wall. The five days of rock climbing and toiling on a big wall were starting to catch up. It was a mental battle just to get out of the portaledge to make coffee. My whole body was angry with me and the blister from day one was now a nasty hole that made putting climbing shoes on excruciating. But we were there, our friends had brought us water, and we had to flipping try. Eating the 5.13 Boulder Problem pitch for breakfast was demoralizing. Both Will and I had two crap attempts falling low on the pitch. Finally on the third attempt I climbed all the way to the jump and again dropped the edge, unable to hold the swing. But at least I was making progress. The sun was beginning to creep onto the pitch and it looked like we would each only have one more try before the pitch was being blasted thus ending our attempts. I tied in and tried to let go of the attempts from the previous days, the tiredness of my body, the pain in my heel. I attempted to let go of everything and just rock climb. There are certain moments in climbing when you tap into what people like to call a flow state. For me it feels as though I leave my body momentarily, my mind watches my body, and I just move. I was barely aware of clipping the last draw before the jump, but suddenly I was jumping. Mid jump my out of body experience ceased and I gripped the edge with everything that was left in my body at that moment. At that moment I remember thinking, “Oh my God, I can do Freerider. I just have to want it bad enough.” Lowering back down to the belay, I could hear the anxiety in Will’s voice as he congratulated me, but also now he had to do it. Will got agonizingly close on his attempt, but fell going for the jump. As he lowered back to the belay the sun began to light up the pitch. He had one try left before the small crimps and smeary feet became too hot to use. With little hesitation, he quickly untied and tied back in casting off on the pitch. Watching Will stick the jump created an indescribable rush of emotions. We both were sending the flipping Freerider, and we were pushing to the top tomorrow. Climbing can be such an individual experience, but in those rare moments that you get to share emotions and experiences with another person about the same rock climb, life makes sense.
Will spying on the parties coming up the wall below us
Day 6, part 2: Our feelings of elation and triumph were quickly squashed when we got to the base of the Enduro Corners later that day. We decided that we were going to top rope these pitches to save a bit of energy, and after getting the ropes up we each gave both pitches a try or two. The first Enduro Corner went down quickly, the second one, however, was every bit as enduro as people talk about. Physical laybacking leads to technical stemming to the endurance crux of laybacking the end of the pitch. I was not planning on trying it twice that day, in order to save energy. Will, however, had other plans, giving the pitch a go in the fading light and slaying the enduro corner. Suddenly the roles had reversed. I was elated for Will and incredibly anxious for myself. Setting up my rope soloing kit, I attempted to lower my heart rate to keep my hands from trembling. To my surprise, I climbed my way through all of the technical movement in the bottom half of the pitch and found myself attempting to punch the final layback section. I could hear Will cheering me on from the belay, and felt the breeze on the back of my neck and my arms pulsing in time with my heart. My hands were opening, my core was failing. I was four moves away from the end of the pitch and my foot slipped slightly. Had I had a bit more juice, had my foot been two inches to the right, I might have held on. I was off, crumpling onto the rope in a puddle of emotion. The feelings from earlier in the day when sending the crux pitch were gone. I immediately was doubting my ability to complete the route, doubting my validity in even attempting, wondering why I was even there. My self confidence plummeted. We had come so far and given so much physical and emotional energy to get to this point. I was unable to find the desire to try any more. My well was tapped. Will put it best earlier in the day, “I am down at the bottom of my well with a shovel…digging.” As Will rapped back down to The Block to make tea, I sat there and cried in the dark, letting myself feel all of the emotions. Upon arriving back at the Block I tried to hide my self doubt and disappointment. “I’ll give it one try in the morning and then support you to the top,” I told Will. Will was having none of it, “No, I’ll jug to the top of the corners first and haul our bags while you try the pitch. You can’t not be sending.” It was at this moment I realized we were there to support each other to the top. It had always been this way, but we were committed to making it happen.
Sunset on our final night in the ledge
Day 7: The final day, though things were far from over. I felt at the end of my rope. I was going to have to fight to want every pitch from there to the top and I knew it. For the last five days, my mornings began with 600mg of ibuprofen, cleaning the hole in my heel, and taping the wound in hopes that my foot wouldn’t be in excruciating pain that day. My emotions were worn down to a frayed wire that was held together by constant application of climbing tape. This last day was the time to do what needed to be done. I successfully fired the Enduro Corner pitch on my first attempt, and both Will and I executed the Round Table Traverse on the first try. Our final obstacle was the Scotty Burke. The wildly exposed pitch starts with a steep finger crack that gives way to a #5 offwidth that turns into this crazy hall of mirrors corridor and finishes at a ledge. The pitch is all time and potentially the best pitch on the entire route. It took me two attempts, and Will did it first try on rope solo. We were sending the Freerider. Years of rock climbing and our seven day journey were leading us to this moment. I still fell on the second to last pitch (an awkward chimney exit) and lost my cool punching the wall and cursing the earth. But sure enough, right at sunset, we topped out Freerider. It was magical, special, crazy, amazing, exhausting, soul crushing, life giving, and all in all the best rock climbing experience I have ever had.
The disgusting hole in my heel
There is a common trait in dedicated rock climbers that I relate to, which is relatively sad. So rarely do I feel proud of the things I do. So often there is a mindset of, “I was capable of doing that, so it doesn’t feel impressive that I actually completed the goal.” The summer before this year’s Yosemite season I did a lot of rock climbing, and had some really decent efforts on things. There were two specific projects I was trying that I was unable to complete, and these were the only two things I tried over the summer that I was unsure if I was going to be able to rise to the challenge on. I left the summer feeling as though I had accomplished nothing that I was personally proud of. Yet all of the “unimpressive” climbing I did over the summer and over the years led to being able to successfully go ground up on a dream route. I am incredibly proud of Will and I’s ascent of Freerider. I was under no notion that when we took off from the ground we were going to achieve our dream. For me, being able to do the things I am not sure I can pull off are the things that give me pride. I feel at peace with the fact that I may not feel pride for most of the things I do in my life. It forces me to pursue progression, and because of this I am grateful. The key is to remember that even when failing to realize our dreams, climbing or otherwise, as long as we are taking the path of pursuit we will always be improving and that is something worth taking pride in
An extra thanks goes out to Next Adventure for helping provide much of the gear used for this ascent. Things would have been much trickier without their support.