The Harding Route on Keeler Needle is steeped in history, first successfully attempted by Warren Harding, Glenn Denny, Rob McKnight and Desert Frank in 1960 over a multi-day and multi-jug-of-wine effort. Warren Harding, an absolute climbing icon brought big wall climbing techniques honed in Yosemite Valley to the walls of the High Sierra. The Harding Route, a 2000 ft climb, is a testament to the vision, fortitude and toughness of Harding and his crew. Moreover, this route has been blessed by the climbing god father himself, Peter Croft, and is not only the crown jewel of the Whitney Zone, but also a quarter of Croft's Big Four in the Sierra.
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| Warren Harding - Photo: Allen Steck |
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| Keeler Needle standing proudly with Day Needle on the left, and Whitney on the right |
When my partner Mike F. asked me to tackle this beast, I jumped at the chance to test our mettle against this formidable mountain, and climb in the footsteps of my heros.
Our plan was simple and forgiving. Stay hydrated and eat as many calories as possible. I knew it was a partnership worth keeping, when Mike shared a google doc breaking down the caloric goals and our path to attaining full stomachs. 2 words folks: Macadamia Nuts; the backpacker's secret weapon.
With bear canister packed full of dehydrated foods, full rack up to #4, 60 meter rope, bivouac gear and a single comfort item (I chose a knitted beanie recently bestowed to me by good friend, Lisa) - we were able to pare our packs down to a mere 35 lbs. This more than anything was a feat to be proud of. We had planned to stay for 3 nights and 4 days hiking on days 1 and 4 and climbing on days 2 and 3. As per usual, our eyes were bigger than our stomachs. We had originally planned on not only climbing Keeler Needle, but also taking a run at Fish Hook Arete on Mount Russell. Needless to say, we could not live up to the dreams we had conjured while sleeping in comfy beds and drinking cold beers.
The hike is a piddly 4.2 miles, but rises over 4000 feet of elevation from Whitney Portal to the base of Keeler Needle.We hiked surprisingly well arriving at our base camp at Upper Boyscout lake in a few hours. In fact, we did so well, we had time for alpine naps, mountain yoga, and hearty dose of macadamia nuts.
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| Mountain Yoga at Upper Boyscout Lake |
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| Alpine Naps |
After a few hours of enjoying the life teeming at Upper Boyscout lake, we moved our bivouac to the austere landscape below Keeler Needle. The contrast could not have been greater. Where life teems in abundance and the sun shines brightly at Upper Boyscout Lake; There is a marked lack of life below Keeler. We entered the foreboding shadow of the mountain. The only movement which exists are the evidenced trail of rock which fell from the needle into the basin. The same boulders which provided us a bivouac for the evening.
At this moment, the level of intimidation was larger than the needle itself. We knew one of the most dangerous portions of the day would be the initial approach to the base of the wall. Keeler Needle is protected by a mass of snow. Snow which could be icy in the pre-dawn conditions in which we planned to start our approach. Purposefully, we had chosen to take our chances, and not come fully equipped with winter mountaineering equipment. The weight of hauling crampons and ice axes up the trail to 12k and again up the climb to 14k was not an option in our minds. We were fully prepared to make hard decisions to turn around and attempt again with better equipment or better conditions.
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| Advanced Bivouac in the shadow of Keeler Needle |
Normally that early morning alpine alarm comes too early, but this time the anticipation was too great. We were both awake before the alarm, Jet Boil humming and oatmeal quickly filling our stomachs. By 5:00 am were heading into the snowfield. We were quickly confronted with our first hard decision. Ensure safety by staying in the least steep part of the snow field and slabbing out with out protection above the bergschrund or take a chance and head up the steeper portion of the snow field to a snow ledge where we could begin climbing with protection. We chose the latter. I was able to dance my way up the snow, with a desperate move to reach the the snow ledge involving a smear on ice in my approach shoes. Mike smartly used the nut tool like an ice ax and methodically made his way to my stance.
We separated the climb into 3 logical blocks of leading. Base to the 4th class ledges. From the 4th class through the crux to the ledge circumnavigating 3 sides of Keeler Needle. Finally from circumnavigation ledge to the top.
I was given the job of the first block, which we dubbed "The Blastoff Block." I always experience pre-climb jitters and anxiety, especially on the approach to big missions like this one. As soon as I step on the rock and place some protection, it melts away. The 8 foot bubble forms, and my attention zero's in on the activity at hand. It's like attaining enlightenment, but instead of meditating for 30 years in a meadow of lotus blossoms, I almost shit my pants, and start climbing.
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| Blasting off into enlightenment |
The approach pitch was a fairly easy affair across 3 mini-dihedrals and up to a big sandy ledge. Moving to the far left I located the true start of the climb and quickly brought Mike up on an alpine anchor. We were trying to blast off the ground after all.
The next pitch fell easily - after nearly a full 60 meters, I found a belay inside a chimney, hugging the left side of Keeler Needle. Our job was to follow the huge gash that splits Keeler Needle.
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| Psyched Mike |
The 3rd pitch in my block was a scary, sandy affair. A few chimney moves, a step to the right, and suddenly I found myself in a dihedral spewing red sand from its bowels. Protection was scarce, the feet were crumbly and the hands were less than desirable. To top it off a roof maneuver loomed over head. I moved delicately through this booby-trapped dihedral and found a thank god placement in the roof before I had to commit to the moves. A few stems, a grunt or two, and I had surmounted the first real obstacle of the day. Miles of smiles came over me. Only 30 meters on this pitch, I built a belay and brought Mike up. He climbed fast, too fast. I didn't have time to eat or drink during this belay. I could see Alpine Mike came out to play, and he was taking no prisoners on this day.
The 4th pitch brought us through a double crack roof maneuver with just enough hand jams to get through. I took the rack from Mike, we quickly exchanged gear, and set off to tackle the next obstacle. I had a moment in the roof, the jams were not quite what I wanted, and I needed to be a bit higher for a good stance to place protection. Up and down I climbed trying to find my mind. I could hear Mike yell some words of encouragement, and gave it another shot. A tenuous move and I was through another crux. I paddled up 5.7 terrain, made a delicate move right to a stance on top of an orange boulder. Built another belay and brought Mike up.
The final pitch in my block was the lower offwidth crux. We opted to bring a single #4 camalot, our widest gear, and it was sitting in my anchor. Whoops, I need that piece. Mike quickly set up a secondary anchor, we transferred rope and gear, and I set off. I placed a sling on that #4 and walked it for 20 meters to the crux of the pitch. Mandatory stacks were required. Right Leg in, nope. Left Leg in. Nope. I felt like I was doing the hokey pokey while problem solving the sequence. Got it, jam the knee.. butterfly stack.. squirm to a gaston finger lock... gasp for air.. sigh in relief. What a move. I found easier climbing above and moved into a bit of the 4th class terrain. Found a comfy ledge, brought Mike up. I was happy to hand the lead off knowing I had done the first part of my job up there.
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| Mike approaching the Red Dihedral |
Mike's 2nd pitch was a tricky 5.7 through blocky terrain to gain the base of the Red Dihedral - a massive corner with gorgeous red rock you could pick out from a mile away. Mike built an anchor and brought me up.
When I arrived at his stance, on sloped ledge at the base of the dihedral, I knew we were in for a treat. The Red Dihedral is supposedly the money pitch of the climb. Since this mission was Mike's idea, this route high on his list of dream climbs, I made sure his block included this pitch. But of course, to make the work fair, he also had to pay his penance and finish his block with the offwidth crux at 13,500 feet.
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| Mike leading up the beautiful Red Dihedral |
Another short approach pitch, and finally we were at the base of the offwidth crux of this climb. At the belay, I could see a twinkle in Mike's eye. He looks over to me and says "Time to pay the piper." I hand him the remainder of the rack, we bump fists and off he goes into that gaping, awful and glorious unknown. I couldn't always catch what he was saying up there, but he talked his way through that thing and oozed through that crack.
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| Mike casting off into 5.8 terrain |
While I followed that pitch, more so than any other pitch on the climb, you can feel the steps of the giants that were there before you. Bongs hammered into the rock were still there, and we were happy to clip them. Three seven star bolts were driven into the right side of the wall by Warren Harding on the first ascent. As I squirmed, and gasped for air up this pitch I could feel the history, and loved every minute of it.
At the belay, Mike was on a high and wanted to keep leading. But alas, it was time to start swinging leads to the top.
A spooky 5.7 squeeze, some odd route finding, and finally we had made it to the ledge which circumnavigates 3 sides of the formation. It was nearly 3:00 pm at this point. We had hoped to be a bit further along at this point, but there was nothing to do, but continue in great style.
When I arrived at the ledge, I could see the "chicken man escape" to our left, and a ledge which petered out to our right. I took the rack, and started off carefully navigating the ledge. The rock was very broken here, there was loose scree and debris all over the ledge, and I forced myself to be extra vigilant as worked my way through this terrain. I had reached the end of the ledge, but there was still a good ways required to get around the formation to where the splitter cracks that would lead us to top lived. I peaked around the corner and saw the continuation of the ledge 20 feet above and 10 feet to the right protected by a blank slab. Looking back to where the rope came, I could not see my partner anywhere, suddenly I felt very alone in the world, exposed a thousand feet off the deck.
Why is it that I crave this feeling of the unknown, the tickle in your stomach that maybe not everything is going to be alright? Perhaps, because the only way to rid it is to move forward, and forget what is behind you. In civilized life, these moments exist, but they are not so clearly defined the way they are in climbing life. There is no time for indecision, only time to move. And so this is what we do, we move.
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| The slab traverse protecting our path to the top. |
Regardless, I was proud of the way we handled this complex terrain, climbing as if we were walking on egg shells.
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| Navigating complex terrain |
When I pulled over the ridge and saw Mike sitting there with tears welling up in his eyes and the largest smile on his face, I knew we had accomplished something bigger than just a rock climb. This was an emotional experience - one which would bond us to each other and to the range of light. I can't quite describe in words the overwhelming emotion of that moment - then again a picture is worth a thousand words:
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| Miles of Smile on the summit of Keeler Needle |
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| Geodetic Survey Ground Control Point on top of Mount Whitney |
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| Descending the mountaineer's route towards Iceberg Lake |
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| The plush bivouac site at Upper Boyscout Lake |
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| Alpine Mike in his natural element at the base of the Harding Route |
The descent was without incident. It took us a couple tries to find the 3rd class entrance to the mountaineer's route, but once we did, we quickly picked our way down the gully towards Iceberg Lake. Packed up our bivouac gear at our advanced bivouac and moved to the lower Upper Boyscout Lake. We were eating dinner at 9:00 pm, happy to be on the ground amongst the boulders and mountains of the Whitney zone.
