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Outside Magazine November 2002

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The Hard Way
Unbroken Chain (Cont.)

THE 1,200-FOOT NORTHWEST buttress of Cloud Peak had never been climbed. We had no idea if it was even possible. We had no information about a potential route or the quality of the rock or the options for descent. I feared that this was part of what was unnerving Bryan. He was used to climbing hard, but almost always on well-traveled lines, with tons of beta, detailed topos, and bombproof anchors. The route on Cloud Peak was terra incognita.

We traversed along the base, then diagonaled up ledges. The face grew increasingly steep, and we roped up at the base of a vertical crack. I eagerly took the first lead, trying to contrive enthusiasm for both of us.

Bryan was having one of those days we all dread. Your muscles aren't working properly, your spirt is bent, and there's nothing you can do about it.

"It's easy going up here," I shouted down.

As on all our climbs together, we would swing leads. Bryan led the second pitch methodically but not slowly. I was hopeful. I led the third pitch and Bryan the fourth. Standing huddled together on a three-inch belay ledge, I soaked up the beautiful, sweeping vastness below us while intentionally ignoring the black thunderclouds overhead.

"How're you doing, Bryan?" I touched him on the shoulder.

"I don't know."

Somehow I'd imagined he was getting better.

"Mark, I really love my family." He was watching the thunderclouds.

"I know you do."

"I promised Deb I'd be home tomorrow."

"We could go down," I said. It was the last thing I wanted, and he knew it.

"No."

As I started the fifth pitch, it began to rain. The wetter the rock got, the more focused I became. My mind closed in on the task. It was like narrowing the beam of a flashlight. I cut out everything on earth but the rock right in front of me and the move I was about to make. At the top of the pitch I exploded with a wail of relief and pride.

The pitch was technically below Bryan's ability, but when he reached the belay he looked white.

"That..." He was gasping. "That was insane."

It was still raining. We still had an unknown number of difficult pitches above us with an unknown descent after that.

"We can bail," I said.

Bryan didn't answer. He didn't look like himself. His eyes were deeply lined and his cheeks drawn, as if he were in pain. "It's my lead," he whispered, his voice as thin and strained as that of a man condemned to the gallows.

"I'll lead," I volunteered.

"Would you? Would you do that?"

Bryan had never given up a lead in his life. His will had completely dissolved.

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