[002] Breaking Ground - Part 1: Mark Wellman’s Fall & Rise

Transcript

Fear is a gift. Without fear there is no balance to allow for hope, relief, safety. Fear is something I have trouble controlling on the wall. I can feel it in my toes when the bubblegum foothold that’s barely there isn’t enough to put my weight on. And in my fingertips when I search blindly over what I think is a shelf only to feel the smooth and unblemished surface I’m not ready to pull on. It starts as sweat in the center of my feet and palms, quickly shooting pains through my arms and legs as my grip becomes tighter and I push (poorly) another inch farther to what I hope is a better hold. By the time it hits my chest I can hardly breathe and the hyperventilating begins. If I can’t stay calm, if I can’t down climb, if I can’t relax my rapidly weakening muscles before they over-grip me off the face of the wall, the terror will take over and I’ll become trapped between my fear and the rock. But then I hear my own voice, saying out loud, “You’re ok. You’ve done this before. Take your time and breathe slower.” It’s the pep talk I give myself every time I’m in this place, and though I feel ridiculous talking to myself, existing between this shaking climber and the voice of reason, it works. The fear subsides. It’s still there, but now I can push through it. And suddenly fear is a gift again. But how do we balance fear and hubris? Hubris and acceptance? If our fate is inevitable as soon as we slip, then how can we decide which is more important before we fall? Because, as every climber knows, it’s not if we fall, it’s how far.

Welcome to Stick & Stone.

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I’m Sydney and this is only my second episode and it’s a two parter. One story, two episodes. I was going to do one episode for this but there’s so much to cover and there’s a really perfect break in the story that I couldn’t help but spread it out over two episodes. And just so you know, there’s some mentions of blood and not-so-nice injuries in this episode. Nothing too gruesome but just so you know it’s coming.

But before we get into it, I have a short story about a fall that happened at my local crag.

It was sometime last year, I was out with a group of people I’ve climbed with a couple times before, and we’d been there for probably 3 hours already. There were a lot of people out that day, all the regulars, a lot of groups, and everyone was in a good mood. One friend had sent her project and this guy in our group, whom I’d just met, was raving about this sandwich he’d brought. I mean, I don’t even remember where he said he’d gotten it from or what kind it was, I only remember how absolutely elated he was to have this sandwich. He put it down between me and my friend so he could climb and asked her, my friend, to watch it when this tiny crag dog with big fluffy bat ears came by and, I kid you not, swallowed the entire thing in one bite. Now, the guy we were with had eaten probably half of his sandwich already, but the half that was left was the size of the dog’s head and it just sucked the whole thing down. It was super funny but I was just so shocked the dog knew it wanted the sandwich but had no appreciation for it. He just swallowed it! So, my friend is hiding the evidence, and the guy finishes working on the route, comes down, is talking about how hard the climb is, and me and my friend are just waiting for it to hit. And finally he asks for his sandwich and we just bust out laughing and explain what happened. The dog owner was so apologetic but I mean what can you do? Dogs are crazy and the sandwich was gone. And I remember him looking at the empty wrapper and then back at the dog owner and saying, “it’s ok, it wasn’t anything special, just a sandwich.” 

So after that, we moved to the far end of this area to the next wall and I was lead belaying my friend while the other two in my group (the sandwich guy and the other girl) were taking a rest. Everyone’s chatting and having a great time and out of nowhere, from the other wall on the other side of a few boulders, there’s a large gasp and then a thud. And then it was dead silent. It’s hard to describe exactly why, but as soon as I heard the thud I just knew it was a person hitting the ground. It just doesn’t sound like anything else. I’ve heard rocks fall, I know what a tree falling sounds like, I don’t know, we hear things fall all the time in our lives, and even though I’ve never heard that sound before it was entirely unmistakable. Maybe it’s something that we all innately know.

So that really turned the day upside down. Everyone was whispering, “Did someone fall? I think someone fell. Should we go check?” And I was still belaying at this point. I was keeping an eye on my climber and reassuring her that I had her. She didn’t seem phased but I didn’t love that she was still climbing when that happened because no matter how strong you are, something like that can get in your head, but I didn’t want to stop her when she said she wanted to keep climbing. I felt like she wanted to stay focused and didn’t want to get involved, and if that’s how she wanted to stay unstressed, then that was ok with me. I didn’t want to add myself to the scene either. However, our two friends quickly got up and, although they also didn’t want to crowd the scene, they decided to go to check if anyone could use their help.

And it’s really good they did, because the guy in our group had a small towel and he brought it with him in case they needed it. Later on, he told me that when he’d walked over there a girl was laying on the ground but moving and getting up and this big group of friends she was with were all in shock. None of them moved, none of them approached her. They were all just kind of slow motion continuing to do what they were doing before the fall. And so he helped the girl and everyone started to get their focus back. Someone called 911 and I didn’t hear it but a helicopter entered the park. What I did hear was the static of one of the rescuer’s radios when they had hiked down to the scene and I was told she was carried out and flown to a nearby hospital.

After my climber was back on the ground, I started chatting with everyone about what happened. And when we’d packed up, we walked over to the spot where the fall had happened because, remember, we couldn’t see anything happening. I didn’t even realize the radio static I’d heard was a rescue team, all of that was obscured by the rocks. I found out the climber hadn’t been wearing a helmet and wasn’t trying to free solo but that’s essentially what she was doing. She had no gear on and was trying to show her friends a move. And that really makes sense given where it happened. This spot is a limestone wall with a shelf halfway up it and in this particular part of the wall the shelf was about maybe 8 ft high and pretty wide because there was a small recess made by a chimney, so it’s easy to climb up there and just hang out on the ledge. She’d gotten up there and must’ve walked to the narrowest part of the ledge where the 10a begins and I pictured her pulling the first move on this section because she’d fallen straight down to the ground below it. And I knew this because there was a sizable pool of blood still on the ground, directly under the route. Pretty scary.

And, unfortunately, I have no idea what happened to her. I’m guessing she’s ok because she was talking and the EMS got to the scene very quickly (especially considering we were an hour from the city) but I don’t know for certain. I have a friend who has just started in EMS and he says that the first few minutes are crucial, so I hope she’s healing but I’m sure she’s likely very shaken from this. I know people who’ve stopped climbing for a while after similar experiences falling and seriously injuring themselves. But, whatever happened, I think it is a really good example of the importance of climbing with others and taking the wall seriously. All of climbing is a test of mettle and it’s really easy to make light of that when you’re just having a good time with your buddies. But I’m really glad there were a lot of people there at the time and that she was able to be rescued really quickly. 

Sorry to start this episode off with a heavy story because the rest of the episode is also going to be a bit heavy. But don’t worry there’s a lot of high points. In the intro I left off with the “it’s not if we fall, but how far” and it’s a double entendre because how far we fall is partly how injured we get but it’s also about how far we have to go to get back, and this story is all about that challenge, that really long hard road back. And it’s so so good, I’m so excited to share this with you. So settle in, get out your sticks, and let’s turn over some stones.

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It was early morning and the sun had only just begun to pale the sky, but Mark Wellman was already awake. Pulling back the flap of his tent, he grabbed his boots and found his fingers stiff as he laced them. In spite of the chilly air, the feeling sent a familiar and warm flow of excitement through his body as he pictured the day ahead. He looked over at Peter’s tent, and smiled as the snort surely meant his friend was just waking up. The sky was clear other than a few wisps of clouds draped over the ridge, twinkling like sequins in a scarf, with the last light of the stars before the sun could outshine them. August 19, 1982 promised to be a beautiful day to climb the Seven Gables.

Located in the Sierra Nevada Range of central California, and situated between the east and south forks of Bear Creek in the John Muir Wilderness, Seven Gables is a 13,080 ft (or 3,990 m) summit. From Vee Lake, the mountain slopes up gradually before jutting upward into a spectacular ridge of granite. As with many summits in the Sierras, the Seven Gables draws mountaineers to add it to their peak bagging list and this most certainly one reason Mark stood at its base that morning.

Packing their bags lightly with snacks and water, the pair headed up the mountain. The terrain would be extremely challenging for a beginner, but this was far from his first ascent. Mark had made it to the top of many high peaks since the age of eight when he hiked up nearly 10, 500 ft to the top of Mount Lassen, the southernmost volcano in the Cascade Range, with his spirited and wilderness adventuring Uncle, John Work Wellman. Now, just 21 years old, he had already ticked several of the French Alps off his list including the immense Mount Blanc, the highest peak in Western Europe at 15,775 ft (or 4,808 m). Flipping easily between jokes and conversation to serious concentration through the headiest parts, Mark and Peter made their way up as the sun rose and fell across the sky. They reached the top and surveyed the world at their feet. The rocks in the valley below began to turn purple, signaling the approach of night. They scrambled around with little time left to waste, looking under rocks until they found what they were looking for: a metal box containing the summit register. They added their names and Mark signed off with his usual message: “Hey kids! It’s the Wells again. Peak #48. See ya!”

Looking around, they realized the way they’d come up the mountain, along the ridge, would take hours to descend. Mark suggested an easier route down the west face and Peter agreed. Fearing they’d lose the light before reaching camp, and having left their flashlights tucked cozily away in their tents, they hopped down their new path through a debris field of loose scree, jumping nimbly from rock to rock. What, at first, appeared to be an easy scramble down the steepest part of the mountain was turning out to be much more technical than they’d assumed, and without a rope it was going to be dangerous. The terrain was a maze of ledges slanting in odd directions, vertical headwalls that popped out of nowhere, and rocks that crumbled under their feet, sending off a spray of pebbles over the sheer cliffs with each step. Thinking of a hot dinner and a good night’s sleep, Mark let his legs take over and hiked confidently down the scree like a staircase. After miles of hiking and thousands of steps, one bad hop onto a sloped ledge covered in loose rock was all it took. Mark was sent tumbling down with seemingly nothing to stop him. He reached out to grab hold of anything but the rocks knocked his hands away as he dropped further down the gully, toppling head over heels, cracking his shoulder, head, and ribs against the rocky outcrops. Then it happened, he sailed off the edge and into the air, straight down a vertical headwall, and knew he was about to die. 

Peter, horrified, rushed to find a path down to his friend. The sight of Mark’s body bouncing off the rocks and out of view made him feel sick, but then he heard his name and Peter knew his friend must still be alive, somehow. Picking his way down quickly but very carefully, he reached a flat ledge where Mark lay sprawled on his back just inches from a thousand foot drop off. His clothes were all but torn off his body and he was bloodied and covered in dirt, but alive. He could speak a little but didn’t seem fully alert and definitely could not move.

Mark had landed hard on his back after being tossed a hundred ft (or 30 m) down the mountain. He could feel something wasn’t right in his back, but his whole body ached so badly, it was hard to tell just how bad it might be. Peter asked if he could wiggle his toes and he managed to move them in spite of the pain, which they had thought at the time was a good sign. They had no radio or way of communicating with camp, so Peter made the difficult decision to go back for help. Before he left, he spent two hours giving what aid he could to Mark. He’d been dressed only in shorts and a t-shirt, now barely held together after being torn apart in the fall. Peter draped Mark’s bare arms and legs with his own pants and sweater—there was no way to fully put on the clothes in his condition. With a canteen of water, an orange, and a package of M&Ms by his head—all the supplies they had packed—, Peter left his friend on the ledge as night swallowed up the last remaining light. Without a headlamp or moon to guide him, Peter made the worst descent of his life, wandering through the dark down the mountain and feeling hollow as he thought of Mark stretched out on the cold granite for many hours to come.

Only able to watch as the sky turned black, Mark shivered as the shapeless hours passed by and felt the cold sink deep into his body. The beauty of the landscape and remoteness of the mountains no longer felt like the blissful escape into the wilderness it had been hours earlier. Uncomforted by the slab of granite under him, Mark listened to the whistle of wind continually grow until it howled with a wintery bite that tore away the clothes Peter had draped over him. His last bit of protection gone, Mark lay there helplessly. He watched passenger planes pass far, far overhead and imagined the people inside wrapped in their blankets and grumbling in their cramped seats, free of danger, safe and warm. How could they know that a man lay broken on the mountain below them?

More time passed, although how much he couldn’t tell as he drifted in and out. How would death feel? Would it be quick or was the pain about to become ten fold? Thoughts of God floated in his mind and Mark could only hold onto the hope that some greater something was truly out there, watching over. The thought made him feel a little less lonely and a little more hopeful. He thought, too, of a paraplegic skier he once saw using a specialized rig to sail down the slopes a year earlier–the idea that adventure was still in his future, however he came out the other side of this, spurred him on to keep fighting.

Morning finally came and with it there was the unmistakable sound of a helicopter. Only it wasn’t. The wind played tricks on his mind as he desperately waited. By midday, Mark was sure the rescue would come in time. He knew in that moment that he had to try getting off the mountain on his own. Mark rolled over onto his stomach and managed to push up onto all fours. He instantly regretted it. A moment he’ll never forget when the pain jolted through his back and likely further damaged his broken spine. He lay back down, defeated, and waited. It was likely around 3 o’clock now which meant he’d been lying there, alone, for twenty-hours. The prospect of having to live through another night seemed impossible.

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Peter had spent three hours wandering in the dark. Fortunately, he’d run into hikers on the way down who’d given him a spare flashlight. He navigated using a map and eventually found his way back to their base camp around 10:00 pm where he relayed the story to his brother and sister-in-law who’d come along for the hike but had stayed by the lake while Mark and Peter climbed the peak. After a difficult conversation, they made the decision to wait for first light because there would be no way of climbing the mountain in the dark. So they rested uneasily, hardly able to sleep in their soft down sleeping bags. With red-eyes they were up and hiking the trails by 4:00. They covered twenty miles of rugged cross-country terrain in six hours and ran to the first door they saw, a pack station at the trailhead. The people inside radioed the nearest ranger station in Bishop once they understood the situation. Seventy-five miles away the Yosemite National Park service assembled members of their Search and Rescue team. Even still, it would be hours before any rescue operation could reach the location Peter had described to them.

It was close to 3:00 pm when, finally, a helicopter whooshed over the Seven Gables. Mark waved his hands rapidly, all he could do to signal the pilot, but the engine soon roared away and he was left in the mountain’s silence once again. To make matters worse, a black cloud was growing and filling the sky. The smell of rain was already in the air when he heard the beat of rotors once more. The chopper hovered over him, trying to maintain a hover in a very dangerous position between the mountain cliffs and the gusts of wind. But after three attempts to pull in close enough for the rescue, on the fourth try a rope appeared and two young men, not much older than himself, dropped down to his sides. They began to tend to him, placing Mark carefully on the litter and ensuring he was well secured, when the storm rained down, bringing with it buckets of hail. The helicopter was forced to fly off and away to a meadow below the peak while the three men cowered from the wind, rain, and lightning. When the storm finally let up, the chopper returned. Dropping a cable for the men to attach to the litter, Mark was lifted into the air with the two men and brought safely aboard, but the rescue was far from over. Without much fuel left, they had no choice but to land and meet another helicopter that could take him all the way to the nearest hospital, the Valley Medical Center in Fresno, over 60 mi (or 97 km) away.

The doctors told him that the eleventh and twelfth thoracic vertebrae, about halfway down his spine, were crushed. Over the next seven months he’d be stuck in the hospital while his back healed from the operation doctors had performed: inserting two metal rods into his back to splint his broken spine. He’d carry these rods for the rest of his life. A month into his stay, Mark was in a wheelchair and, at twenty-one years old, he despaired about the life now laid out before him. But the misery about the days to come trapped in a chair wouldn’t stay for long. It was a fight, but every day Mark would meet new trainers and other patients, and come to befriend many other disabled people with all different types of impairment who gave him the encouragement to pull himself up another stair, lift another ten pounds, and dream of a bigger future than he’d ever imagined when he was able-bodied. While going through rehab, he challenged his new range of movement, flooring the instructors with his sheer willpower to push beyond the chair’s limitations. They taught him how to pop a wheelie to overcome curbs and soon he was madly flying down the halls on his back wheels to the chagrin of the nurses.

In January, 1983, Mark went to De Anza Community College in Cupertino to pursue further training in their P.E. program which was, at the time, the top physical education program for disabled people in the entire country. His program leader, Jeff Forman, asked Mark what he wanted to get out of the school and he said, “I want to walk again.” That, right there, is why I love this story so much. I haven’t been commenting on this story too much so far because it’s so inspiring and there’s so much to tell you that I really didn’t want to condense it all and gloss over how world-shaking this whole experience was for Mark. It’s easy for me to hear about a guy falling off a cliff, well not easy, but easy to understand that he comes out the other side paraplegic. But living through that whole sequence of events with him, up on that mountain, alone, for twenty-four hours. It’s a lot to take in. And just think how many people would ask him his story and he probably came up with a couple short sentences to sum up what happened but this book is like sitting down with him and really having this incredible chance to hear his life’s story. I just love stories of people overcoming unbelievable obstacles and I think Mark really proves to break those barriers down again and again. But I’m getting ahead of myself! Back to De Anza.

Hating the idea of not being autonomous, Mark saw his path diverted at every turn with the easier option always within view, but the idea of being seen as incapable and in need of security drove him further on his mission to train as an athlete. Just a couple months in and he was already practicing stretches, balance, strength training. dips to pull himself upstairs, swimming laps until he could do a mile (using a floating board between his legs and paddles on his hands that gave better traction through the water). Pushing harder and harder every day until he could do 200 pushups and 100 hundred sit ups in a single session. The physiology lab tested his level of physical fitness to check his progress in the program and the results showed he was in the best shape of his life, likely better even than when he was able-bodied. And in time, working on his quadriceps brought back some sensation to his thighs. It didn’t spread any further and it wasn’t enough for him to walk on his own, but it gave him back the ability to function sexually, and more than that it encouraged him to reach his goal of becoming totally independent.

I had to add in the bit about sexuality because he talks about that being a part of his new life. There was actually an instructor at the hospital who showed him and other disabled people a sex tape of a guy like them, using a wheelchair to get around. And it sounded really sweet because it was like a whole movie where he went out on a nice date with his girlfriend and then they went home and slept together and showed how sex was still a normal part of their lives. It’s such a big part of the human experience so I thought that was really cool that he put that in the book.

Every time Mark saw another incredible athlete, both those disabled and able-bodied, he would feel a surge of desire to do what they were doing, and it was so great it would consume his every thought. Mastering the sport became a singular goal just like everything else that he pushed his body to do whether it was tennis or pulling himself up the stairs, swimming or sitting up in bed for the first time after the accident. The moment that changed his life holds onto his heels but at every turn, Mark finds another staircase to climb and climbs it, pulling his way up like his life is on the line. And that’s exactly why. His life is on the line.

In 1985, Mark joined the Park Ranger program at West Valley College. This was a very normal but also an empowering experience because he felt totally accepted by everyone on campus. Without help unless it was entirely necessary, on a class outing he skied across snowy slopes to camp with his classmates at the edge of Duck Lake. Pitching his tent, unfurling the sleeping bag, and boiling water on his backpacking stove reawakened fond memories of the outdoors before his accident. He surprised himself with his own capability and upon hearing about a Ranger opening in Yosemite, spurred on with confidence, he called up the park and asked for the job. It took a little convincing but he got the job. I say convincing because initially the guy hiring didn’t want to give him the job because the employee housing wasn’t set up for a wheel chair, but Mark was so determined because he knew it was gonna be the same difficulty he’d face with any job. Becoming a Park Ranger was what he wanted to do and if he lost faith in himself now it was going to be just another uphill battle to get back. It was hard at first because the facilities were definitely not wheelchair-friendly, but over the course of his time at the park he eventually moved up from what was essentially an army-style camp tent with a cement floor and tarp sidings, into a cabin that suited him much better.

His primary job was to sit in the kiosk all day as the cars and campers pulled into the park so he could collect the fee. He also spent time in the visitor center helping people find their way around the park and answering visitor questions. But his favorite part about being a Park employee was finding new ways to travel. His first tries at hiking with the wheelchair proved challenging with less reward than he’d hoped for. Over time, he acquired a bicycle equipped with hand pedals and discovered that kayaking was the same for him as for his able-bodied friends. The freedom of paddling down the river was exhilarating and filled him with joy as he passed under the mighty granite walls. His eyes drifted down the line and his breath caught when El Capitan rose into view. The vertical monolith of pale coarse-grained granite commands a 3,000 foot (or 914 m) rise from the valley floor of Yosemite National Park. And it was here, in the late-day glow of the afternoon sun with his heart beating fast, the idea of climbing again began to grow.

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Yosemite draws in many different types of climbers with different styles, but there are just a handful of them who are known by name throughout the valley and sometimes far beyond the park. While sending El Capitan is a lifetime goal for many climbers, for Mike Corbett, Mr. El Cap, it was home. In all, he climbed El Cap 56 times, reaching the summit by at least 25 different routes. When Mark finally met him, he’d already heard all the stories.

In January 1989, Mark opened up his mail to find the latest issue of Sports and Spokes, an adaptive sports magazine covering tournaments and races from around the world. The cover of this issue featured a woman being lowered down a cliff on a rope, in her wheelchair. Her name was Erin Broadbent, a Park Ranger and later Superintendent of Tonto National Monument, who went on a river-rafting trip in Australia. The group had stopped to portage the raft around a waterfall and so Erin was lowered down with ropes attached to her waist and wheelchair. Excited to show someone, Mark wheeled out of his cabin and up to the first person he recognized, Mike Corbett. They got talking about climbing and ended up at the Mountain Room Bar. It didn’t take long before Mike said: “Climb El Cap with me!” Without thinking twice, Mark agreed and then planning began. They were mesmerized by the idea of it, pioneering a new form of climbing, stringing together every bit of knowledge out there to create a system that would allow Mark to scale the wall.

The concept of how to approach the climb came to them fairly fast. They worked off the concept of big wall aid climbing. Usually, the first climber ascends by placing gear in the cracks attached to etriers (also called aiders) which look like stirrups strung together (a variation of this is a ladder that looks similar except it has rungs of nylon rather than slings). The climber walks up the etriers and places more gear and then continues for about 150 feet (or 46 m) up the pitch to the anchors. When they’re in, the second climber climbs up the anchored ropes using ascenders (also known as Jumars) which slide up each rope and then catch when pulled down, similar to how a Grigri works. They’re a little different, obviously the rope is being fed the opposite way depending on which device you’re using, but basically they're both using friction to help hold the rope. The second climber pulls on these ascenders (attached to their own set of stirrups) and steps up, kind of like those stair step machines with the handles you pull. I don't know if that's more confusing to use as an example, but they’re these machines that have feedback between each step with the hands, so it made sense in my head. Anyway, they do this until they reach the anchors. And then they trade work, so the second climber is the first to go up the next pitch.

So you might already be able to see what Mike and Mark were thinking. If Mike climbed every pitch, then Mark could potentially jumar his way up the wall, which if you wanna debate if that’s climbing or not that’s another discussion. But I think it’s climbing, it’s just a newer style, just the same way aid climbing is different from sport climbing is different than bouldering. But if they were going to do this, they’d have to figure out exactly how Mark could pull on the ascenders without use of his legs.

They did their first trial run on a large tree to avoid crowds and getting questions, by roping a branch about fifteen feet (or 4.5 m) off the ground. With his harness on, Mark grabbed the ascenders and pulled his way up but it took him at least 15 minutes and it was exhausting just to go 15 feet. I mean, imagine sitting on the ground and then pulling yourself up a rope hand over hand with your legs just hanging there. And Mark was ripped. From all the wheelchair sports he was into, he had absolutely massive arms, and he was having trouble. But basically the idea worked, next they needed to work out how to make it more efficient.

Another idea they had was to attach one ascender to his waist harness (which is called a Progression ascender, but I’m not sure if that was a thing at the time) and that worked better because Mark could use both hands to pull on one Jumar. But probably the biggest factor in solving this engineering problem was the Gibbs ascender, and if you don’t know what that is you probably aren’t a cave explorer, and neither am I. Yet. Cavers rappel down quite often to get down waterfalls and they used to do this with a Prusik knot but the rope gets wet and muddy in the cave so tying and untying this knot was extremely annoying. The cavers Peter and Charles Gibbs came up with this ascender that’s essentially a smaller version of the Jumar brand ascender that was popular at the time so it had less friction and would slide a lot faster up the rope.

Because this was a dirty rotten caver’s device, sometimes used by those ice climbing freaks, Mark was opposed to using it at first but he let his curiosity win out and that turned out to be for the better. With the Gibbs hooked to his harness and the Jumars on the ropes, Mark was able to pull himself up way faster. Each time he was pulling, he was now essentially saving progress because the Gibbs was sliding up and holding his waist so he didn’t have to pull so hard each time to get his legs up. Doing this motion was giving him a bit of tennis elbow, so Mark had the idea to add a pull-up bar to the Jumar so instead of having his wrist pulled down at an angle, he could just do pull-ups and chin-ups instead. And he loved doing pull-ups so he got excited about it.

The last problem was the rock texture because Mark’s legs would be rubbing against the wall the whole time. So Mike spent so much time sewing a pair of special rock chaps for Mark, which is so sweet. And with everything ready to test, they went out on March 5 of ‘89 (so a couple months after they started this) to the Church Bowl which is right by Yosemite Valley Village where they worked. Mike climbed up, anchored in, rappelled, cleaned on the way down and handed the ropes off to Mark. Strapped in and wearing the chaps, Mark pulled up on his bar and was off the ground. Mike climbed next to him on another rope so they could make emergency adjustments as needed. But they didn’t need it, everything was working. The chaps still needed some tweaks and his elbows were scraping the wall but Mark was climbing up, and climbing a much steeper rock than anything he had done while summiting and able-bodied.

He quickly rose above the treetops and saw the park from the air. He looked down and saw the speck of his wheelchair far down on the ground below. The sight of it made his heart pound. He was breathing harder, the adrenaline was rushing in, and he fed off of the exhilaration. He was finally climbing again. And that’s it, that’s the whole story. He went up fifty feet and that was all he needed. No, I’m joking, but we are getting close to the end of part 1, unfortunately.

So having tested everything out, Mike went back to his sewing machine and worked on adding more protection to the chaps. Mark got a pair of elbow pads and started training a lot at the gym because he was going to have to basically do pull-ups all day for about a week to climb the whole route up El Cap. And then Mike did probably the best and most wild best friend thing someone could do, he called up every news station and reporter he knew to tell them about what they were about to attempt. He told them they had a date: April 19th, just one month away. Mike had some media experience and enjoyed the circus, but Mark had never talked to reporters and was about to get avalanched by calls and requests. So he was feeling nervous at this point, to say the least, but now he was locked into it. I mean, can you imagine the pressure he must’ve felt? They conceived of this idea starting in January and now it’s April. They had planned to start the climb on April 19th but Mark needed more time. He was feeling uncertain partly because he didn’t have his parents’ blessing, so on April 15th Mike asked Mark if he would like to climb to Heart Ledge on El Cap with him to camp out for a night. Mike had already set up ropes with his girlfriend over the last couple days so they could come back to finish the route together but he was feeling uninspired without Mark’s confidence. Mark said yes, all he’d have to do were his pull-ups. So six inches at a time, he pulled himself up the face of El Cap.

This was much higher than the view over the tree tops looking into the village at Church Bowl. The valley was opening beneath him. Mark could see Half Dome, Cathedral Rock, Glacier Point, all these famous landmarks from a vantage he’d never had before. His arms burned but he kept going and after four hours of pull-ups (with many breaks) he made it to the ledge. Mike had to leave for a meeting but he’d set up the camp comfortably, and would be back later in the evening. When he was gone, Mark was alone on the ledge. It was quiet. The wind whistled over the granite and the view was as clear as a map. The sun warmed the rocks and Mark was by himself so he thought, why not? And stripped down to his harness to sunbathe, for the next four hours. He watched the birds fly by and the clouds bend and shift overhead. As the sun went down, he sat up and the overwhelming satisfaction of making the climb surged through him. Once again, he was experiencing the thrill for adventure.

Mike returned with dinner: salami, bagels, Gatorade, and Beanie Weenies which is apparently a can of beans and slices of hotdog and maybe the most fart-inducing substance I’ve ever heard of. But it was Mike’s favorite. So they went to bed that night in their sleeping bags nine-hundred feet (274 m) in the air. Mark hardly slept though, watching the stars come out and taking in the mountain air. It was the same perspective he had had the night of his fall, only this time everything was serene. He still couldn’t walk but he felt safe, and in the time since the accident Mark had come so far. He was stronger, more focused, and seeking much larger goals than he had seven years ago. The looming presence of El Cap, more felt than seen in the night, wasn’t to be feared, it was a mountain to be summited, and Mark was ready to do just that.

And that’s the end of part 1! I tried to be as nice as possible and not make too big of a cliffhanger. Part 2 will be out in 2 weeks, but if you’re a subscriber then next week you get a bonus episode! So, every month I’ll release two episodes and then if you’re a subscriber, you’ll not only get to hear the stories two days earlier, you’ll get a bonus third episode each month, Choss Pile, my dumb name for the choss that is the extra bits that didn’t make it into the main feed episodes.

Oh, and, I’ll put a lot of cool photos of Mark and Mike up on Instagram. You can see them if you’re watching the YouTube version of the show but if you’re just listening they’ll also be on Instagram so you don’t have to miss out. Some of the photos are from Mark’s book, which is called Climbing Back, that’s where I got most of the information for this episode. But one of the photos I really wanted to see while reading was the photo of Erin Broadbent, the woman on the cover of Sports N’ Spokes because it wasn’t in the book and that shocked me because that was this huge pivotal moment for Mark when he decided to return to climbing. So I looked up the magazine and found out it’s still very much around and actively covering major adaptive sporting events and athletes around the world. So I reached out to them and they almost immediately got back to me about this issue of the magazine. They must be so extraordinarily organized because, I kid you not, they sent me the PDF, for the full November 1988 issue, within the hour. I’m so impressed. So I’m including that photo on Instagram as well. But if you want to hear more about Erin and learn what a sit-ski is, you'll have to wait for the Choss Pile. Thank you for listening. Bye!

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Thanks for listening to Stick & Stone. You can follow along to find out about upcoming episodes at @stickandstonepod on Instagram. Support the show to get all episodes before the main feed on Patreon. If you want to watch the episodes, head to Stick and Stone Pod on YouTube. Follow the podcast wherever you listen, and leave a rating and review if you like the show. I hope you feel inspired to climb, and remember, always check your knots!