1987: The Story of Eroica

In the summer of 1984, I was climbing only sporadically and focused mainly on my upcoming final year of coaching distance runners at Fairview High School in Boulder. For a few years, I had been curious about the first pitch of an aid climb on the Diamond called Diamond Lil that was established in 1976 by Michael Covington, Doug Scott, and Dennis Henneck. It veered off left from low down on the D1 route and onto the clean dark grey face below the overhanging headwall. There was a thin crack piercing the whole length of the face, splitting into two higher up. It called out to be climbed.

I had to take a look, so that summer I went up there with my brother, Bill, and led the pitch. It was incredibly beautiful, and I found it hard, some flavor of 5.11. We then traversed left onto the Casual Route and finished on that. The line of Diamond Lil also moved left to a prominent, wet corner system just right of the central corners on the Casual Route.  Some years later Chip Chace and I climbed the next 2 pitches of Diamond Lil, and found them to be wet, mossy, 5.11, and not worth climbing.

But I noticed that directly above the splitter crack on the first pitch of Diamond Lil was a series of corners that got smaller and smaller until finally dying out below a 50 or 60-foot blank wall. Above this were the upper pitches of Diamond Lil. I began to wonder if these corners could be linked up and if, somehow, the blank section would have enough features to be climbed. It seemed entirely feasible that the rest of Diamond Lil above this would go free. What an incredible line it would be!

The summer of 1985 was my return to serious climbing, as my coaching days ended. This was also the beginning of my most prolific period (the next 20 years) of climbing on Longs Peak when I would climb the Diamond about eighty times. In 1985 most climbers thought the Diamond was tapped out for free climbing after John Bachar’s first free ascents of D7 (1977) and D1 (1978). Bolted sport climbing had just arrived in Colorado and most of the best climbers were focused on bagging short 5.13s. That’s where all the news was being made, and no one was thinking about the Diamond – except me. I was just the opposite. I wasn’t interested in sport climbing (partly because I wasn’t very good at it) and felt there was still more to do on Longs. So, I began looking at the intimidating right side of the Diamond which was mostly overhanging and had some dreadfully bad rock. To my knowledge, no one had yet considered the possibility of free climbing over there.

That summer I ended up doing the first ascent of the King of Swords, opening up the right side of the Diamond, and also the first free ascent of Ariana at the extreme left edge of the Diamond. These were the first two 5.12s on the Diamond. I also rope-soloed the D7 route free, climbing every pitch twice, and schlepping all that gear up there all by myself, making for one of the most strenuous climbing days in my life. This big season on the Diamond opened my eyes to what was possible for me to do up there, and I began to wonder, what’s next? The answer was obvious, and the Diamond Lil variation (actually straightening it out) became my project for the next four years.

The state of free-climbing on the Diamond in early 1986, with old school ratings. By Eric Guokas

Over the winter I collaborated with Eric Guokas, a strong young Boulder climber, on an article about free climbing on Longs Peak (Longs Peak Free Climbs, Rock and Ice #13, Mar/Apr 1986). Eric was an artist and illustrated the article with topos (left), and he was one of the few good climbers in the Boulder area who was interested in climbing on the Diamond. He had free-climbed the Diamond a few times and also done a rope-solo winter ascent, a very respectable accomplishment that has rarely been duplicated to this day.

I first met Eric when he was a student in my physics class at Fairview, and he was deeply passionate about climbing by that time. His rug-rat climbing buddies were Christian Griffith, Dale Goddard, and Eric Doub – and these kids were climbing hard in high school.

By 1986, 5 years later, Eric Guokas was one of the top climbers in the Boulder area and we spent a lot of time talking about the Diamond. I needed a strong partner for the Diamond Lil project, and Eric was an obvious fit. He was very excited to join me on this project, and we committed to going up on Diamond together when he got back from his May/June trip to Yosemite. I was sure I had the right partner.

But he never made it back from Yosemite. On the evening of June 28, 1986, I got the news that Eric died in a big fall on Higher Cathedral Rock in Yosemite Valley. I was shocked and saddened, but after a few weeks I felt all the more inspired to carry on with the Diamond project that Eric and I had dreamed of doing together. I wanted to do it for Eric.

During the summer of 1986, I made several trips up to the project with my brother, who was always willing to support me on my wild schemes. On our first attempt, I quickly dispatched the first pitch which I had struggled on 2 years before. I was climbing much better this time. The 2nd pitch started out easy up to the base of a monumental perfect corner that towered above (photo). A thin crack in the corner took RPs quite nicely so I started stemming endlessly upwards in the corner, dropping in RPs at maximum spacing. Just my forte, and good thing I brought a triple set of RPs! Then high up the corner I made a blind exit left, out of the corner and onto an elegant clean face. I had chosen the right spot to exit, where nice edges and knobs appeared, allowing me to run it out to a tiny stance, perhaps 9 x 9 inches, at the base of a smaller corner. I was now a full rope length out, and twenty feet past my last pro, and there was no gear in sight for an anchor. What now?

Me just after exiting the big corner on the 2nd pitch. Photo by Michael Gilbert, from the 3rd ascent.

Down at the belay inside our haul pack was a bolt kit with a hammer, several blade pitons, and two bolts. I called down to Bill to tie it onto the thin haul line I was trailing. Holding onto a tiny hold with one hand as I teetered on the stance, I managed to haul up the bolt kit. Now I had some tools to work with. First, I pounded a blade piton into a sealed crack in the tiny corner. Sadly, it bottomed-out quickly so I kept wailing on it to get another millimeter or two. Then I tied it off at the rock surface and tied myself in, pretending it was a real anchor. I was confident the pin might hold body weight, so I could now relax and move around on the stance. Obviously, a bolt was needed, and now I could comfortably hand drill one to make a real anchor. After a half hour of work, I finally tied myself in to the bolt and marginal pin. Now I could sit back, lean out over space halfway up the Diamond, and look down the amazing pitch I had just led. Getting the anchor was the hardest part!

Michael Gilbert starting up the 3rd pitch. The runner on the blunt horn is visible below him. This is all solid 5.11 and pretty run-out!  Photo by Roger Briggs, from the 3rd ascent.

My brother methodically followed the pitch and we huddled on the stance to discuss our options. Above was a small right-facing corner, about 18 inches deep (photo), that dwindled down to nothing at the base of the blank section. The crack in the back of the corner was mostly sealed and there was no protection in sight. Nevertheless, I started upward with thin 5.11 stemming moves right off the belay. I threw a runner around a blunt horn giving me enough confidence to move up and get standing on the horn. Then more hard stemming until I found a tiny spot that took a TCU (the Metolius Three Cam Unit had just come out and was one of the first small cams for shallow placements, crucial technology for this climb). I continued onward like this, getting shallow but good gear, until the diminishing corner finally ended and a smooth wall loomed above me. I found some good gear, then clipped myself in so I could hang fully and once again pull up the bolt kit.

Soon I had a nice fat bolt in place, but it was getting late and I knew this would have to be our highpoint for the day. Before lowering down to the belay, I wanted to scope out the blank wall above as closely as possible, so I stood high in a runner and tried to imagine free climbing past the bolt and heading up the blank wall on a big run-out. It looked to be at least 30 feet before features appeared once again to the left. Looking and feeling around from this highpoint I found that there were small holds everywhere and concluded that it should be climbable – if I was willing to risk perhaps an 80-foot fall. The prospect of heading up this section haunted me for the next year.

We descended and I felt excited about the amazing new pitch and a half we had accomplished that day. I returned one last time that summer with Bill to recon the upper part of the line. We climbed the Casual Route up to the bivy ledge, then I moved right from the ledge and climbed an easy corner system to where it ended about 50 feet up. I was now on the original Diamond Lil line and could look down at the blank section I had previously reached the bottom of. Again, it looked climbable, but very run out. I could also look up at the next section, about 100 feet to Table Ledge. This would probably be the crux pitch of the climb, because the last two pitches above Table Ledge followed a prominent crack system and would undoubtedly go free. The pitch just above me would have to traverse right to another crack system which I could not really see. Looking higher, the rest of the pitch was steep and nebulous and looked to have some bad rock on the upper half. That’s as much as I could learn from this vantage point, so I returned to the ledge and we finish on the Casual Route. The season of 1986 was over for me (back to work) and I had all winter to think about and dream about the possibility of all these pieces falling into place.

It was inevitable that I would talk about the unfinished project on the Diamond with my longtime friend Eric Doub, one of Eric Guokas’ best friends, and a very good climber with Diamond creds. I invited him to team up with me and try to finish the climb in memory of, and inspired by, our fallen friend. The plan was for me to lead the odd pitches, which gave me the 3rd pitch with the big run-out, and for Eric to take the even pitches, giving him the 4th pitch, which I expected to be the crux of the climb. Eric was strong and climbing well so I wanted him on this strenuous-looking pitch. And I had spent a whole year pondering the big run-out, visualizing over and over reaching the bolt and absolutely not hesitating to keep climbing upward, without regard for the big fall. I was ready for that pitch.

On July 7, 1987 we started up the line. We moved smoothly through the first two pitches, and I started up the 3rd pitch. Difficult moves took me past the bolt to the last good hold, then I began moving upwards without hesitation, finding tiny holds where I needed them. Just stay focused on the next move and don’t think for a moment about the fall! Finally, about thirty feet out, I could move left onto bigger holds. Then some marginal protection, and I could move upward on easier rock to a belay at the same highpoint I reached on our recon the year before.

The big run-out was indeed exciting, but the climbing turned out to be moderate at about 5.10a. Eric followed and now it was his turn for a heroic effort. One pitch – 100 feet – separated us from almost certain success.

Me on the start of the 4th Pitch. Photo by Michael Gilbert, from the 3rd ascent.

Eric geared up then started on pitch 4 with a long traverse right (photo) to the main crack system, followed by a section of burly lie-backing up a shallow slot (11c). Eric was moving well and with determination. Then, with about fifty feet of rope out and Eric partially out of sight, the rope stopped moving and Eric was silent for a while. What was he doing? Shaking out on a rest? Looking at the next section, perhaps the crux? Finally,

“Off Belay!”

I was quite surprised and certainly puzzled.

“Did you say OFF?”

“Yeah, this is a good belay.”

“Aren’t you going to finish the pitch?”

I didn’t get an answer, but I didn’t need one because the answer was obvious. I tried to grasp, and accept, the sudden change in our plans as first ascensionists.

I followed the short pitch and reached Eric belaying in a steep-sloped alcove, leaning back on an anchor with a couple of old fixed pins from the first ascent of Diamond Lil. I focused on the business at hand – getting up the climb – and studied the next section. The main crack system overhead seemed to be an overhanging, rotten, groove ¬– definitely a show-stopper. But when I leaned out and looked up and left, I discovered a bullet-hard, almost marble-like plaque of rock with a thin bottoming grove transecting it for about 15 feet. Above that seemed to be a small corner feature that continued out of sight. It looked climbable.

I had some water and a bar, racked up with small gear, and headed a few moves upward to look for a placement. Reaching as high as I could, an RP dropped right into the shallow groove and it seemed to be good. The plaque above was dead vertical, if not slightly overhanging, but little holds appeared and enticed me upwards. Then another desperate but good placement in the groove, but now I was too pumped to keep going, so I climbed back down to the belay. I took a good rest and then headed up again. I made it a few moves higher and got another good wire, then I’m pumped out again and back on the belay for a rest. Finally, with this much protection in place and with the moves worked out, I reached the high piece and punched through, running it out to easier moves leading to the thin corner – and gear. I made it! Another 20 feet to Table Ledge (not actually a ledge at this location), then a traverse ten feet right took me to a good belay, exhausted and elated.

Eric followed without difficulty and congratulated me heartily for getting the rope up the crux section. We re-organized, ate, and drank, then Eric led the next pitch smoothly, starting out with an 11c/d headwall. I followed with creeping fatigue, then cruised up the easier last pitch. Finally, we stood at the top of the Diamond 11 hours after leaving Broadway 900 feet below, dead tired and very happy.

Michael Gilbert following the 4th pitch. Photo by Roger Briggs, from the 3rd ascent.

On the long descent from the summit of Longs Peak we had plenty of time to process the climb and share some of the great moments. But we did not discuss the semi-hanging belay in the middle of the 4th pitch. We both felt good about our great team effort and that we had just established a superb new free climb on the Diamond, inspired by our friend. In the days that followed we considered names for the new climb, and we included my brother since he was an important part of the early attempts. We all landed on Eroica, latin for heroic, a name for Beethoven’s romantic 3rd Symphony, a name for the heroic Eric Guokas.

That should be the end of the story of Eroica. But for me, it wasn’t. Over the next winter, the 4th pitch of the climb haunted me. I knew I wasn’t satisfied with the style we did the pitch in. I could not find any way to justify – on a free climb ­– a semi-hanging belay halfway up a short pitch, immediately before a crux section. The belay conferred several advantages over a straight through lead – a good rest hanging on the anchors, hydration, food, and the chance to comfortably inspect the next section and lighten up the rack. In my mind, this had to be a single pitch led straight through, without the belay, and we hadn’t done that.

I discussed this with Eric, and he viewed things differently. He felt that the belay was perfectly acceptable because it was possible to stand there in that sloping alcove without hands touching. In other words, someone leading the pitch straight through could get a good rest at that spot, just the same as if they belayed there. So, why not belay there?

This was no great moral question, and nothing important was at stake in the big scheme of things. But free climbing, after all, is about how you get up, not just getting up. That’s why we make up stylistic definitions of “free climbing”, and everyone thinks they know what it means. But in the end, on the lead, we each make our own choices, and that is the beautiful creative freedom climbing confers. Within that freedom, Eric was comfortable with how we climbed the 4th pitch of Eroica, and I was not. Within the context of my real life, this meant I was not done with Eroica.

The next summer, 1988, I returned to Eroica, this time with Chip Chace, one of Colorado’s best climbers at the time and a Diamond veteran. This was early in what was to become a prolific 30-year climbing partnership and friendship that ended with his passing in 2018. I was confident Chip would be able to lead the 4th pitch straight through.

We cruised up the first three pitches, then Chip started up the 4th pitch, methodically dispatching the lower crux and reaching the alcove. He took a good rest then moved assertively into the final crux section, foregoing the highest piece I placed, and simply going for it. It looked like he got it – surely he was on the last hard move – when suddenly he pitched off, taking a 25-footer into space. Soon he was back at the alcove cursing profusely. After a rest, he took off and climbed right through the crux and finished the pitch. He had come so close to on-sighting it …

This was not the plan – we had failed on our mission for the day – but our attention shifted quickly to the gathering storm. As Chip led the last pitch, all hell broke loose from the sky. Intense rain, hail, sleet, snow, and wind had us soaking wet and shivering in minutes. Thunder and lightning had us terrified. At the point where we would normally unrope and scramble, we had to do another roped pitch with bare hands on slush-covered holds and ropes saturated with water. The one good thing about getting totally soaking wet is that you can’t get any wetter. The storm continued unabated for a good hour as we finally reached easier terrain, coiled up the very heavy ropes, packed up our packs, and carefully picked our way down the North Face of Longs Peak. By the time we reached Chasm View, the sun was out again, and we felt like ship-wrecked rats washed ashore. This was the full Diamond experience.

We had just completed the 2nd ascent of Eroica, but I was still not satisfied with the 4th pitch. I came back one more time the following summer (1989) with another one of my best partners, Michael Gilbert. This time I would try to lead the 4th pitch in impeccable style. I trained hard all winter so I would be fit enough and strong enough, but in the end, I duplicated, almost exactly, Chip’s performance from a year earlier. We finished the remaining pitches and topped out ­– but without the storm. This was the 3rd ascent of Eroica, and I was still not satisfied. But what was different this time was that I finally felt satisfied that I had given it my best and would try no more. I could finally walk away from Eroica not having achieved the stylistic perfection I sought but knowing that I had turned a dreamy vision into a stunningly beautiful climb that would stand the test of time. Was this a success or a failure? Others will have to make that judgement.

Epilog

Now, 35 years later, Eroica gets climbed only occasionally, and is reputed to be the best climb on the Diamond. I suspected that from the beginning. We will never know who did the first on-sight ascent of the entire climb, without the mid-pitch belay on the 4th pitch. At least one strong party I know of used the belay, then down-rated the pitch from 12b to 12a (“not that bad …”). I have heard more recently that some people now think the crux of the climb is on the 2nd pitch and not the 4th pitch – but I wonder if they led the 4th pitch as one, or with the intermediate belay in the alcove. What I do know for sure is that both Jonathan Siegrist and Josh Wharton climbed Eroica in the style I sought after, but these guys are from another planet. Wharton climbed it as a link-up from Endless Summer (5.12a) on the lower wall, which is utterly beyond my comprehension.

For the Guide Books

Eroica. V, 5.12a, A0, with the alcove belay on the 4th pitch, or 5.12b without. First ascent in 1987 by Roger Briggs and Eric Doub. In memory of Eric Guokas (1963 – 1986)