My buddy Drew Smith and I are in the Manure Pile parking lot of Yosemite National Park, racking up for a climb. It鈥檚 around noon on Wednesday, and tourists are unloading RV鈥檚, families are setting up for lunch on picnic tables, kids are playing tag among听the trees. Just as we听shoulder our backpacks, we听hear a horrible crackling鈥攖he sound that makes every climber, no matter where they are, wince, recoil, and look up with squinting eyes.听
A massive piece of granite detaches from the far right face of El Capitan. It drops as if being pulled by some unseen force, dismantling slowly as it glances off the slabs 1,000听feet below. It sounds like a violent thunderclap as it echoes through the valley walls. The flake, or what鈥檚 left of it, lands at the base of the wall with a dull thud,听sending rocks of all sizes out into the talus. Boulders roll听before finally settling into place. Gravel and sand pour from the enormous new scar high up on the wall. I hear someone yell for help, but it鈥檚 faint. Maybe I鈥檓 imagining things. That鈥檚 what I tell myself听anyway. A knot forms in my stomach.听
By evening, I鈥檓 back at my camp. I have frantic messages from my wife and my dad wondering if I鈥檓 okay. News travels fast these days.
A thick, billowing cloud of dust rises over the valley:听the mid-day breeze separates it into spindrifts. The parking lot we鈥檙e in is less than a quarter mile from the rockfall, out of harms way. But we鈥檙e shaken. The climbing community is small. When something like this happens, there are usually only one or two degrees of separation between an observer and a victim. Drew used to be a member of Yosemite Search and Rescue (YOSAR), and his rescue instincts kick in immediatley. We look around. Surprisingly none of the tourists have noticed the gash in the monolith. No one is even looking up. Kids continue to laugh and play.
Luckily, the far right side of El Capitan rarely gets climbed. It鈥檚 notoriously loose. In 2012, while climbing on the opposite side of the Valley, my partner and I witnessed a similar rockfall in the exact same spot, same scenario. No one was hurt then.听Drew and I stare听up at the fresh white scar on El Cap hoping the same is true now. But this one seems to be a lot bigger. We hear sirens. 鈥淪hit is going down,鈥 says Drew. 鈥淓very SAR member is gonna be called out for this.鈥
For the next couple hours there are smaller rock falls in the same zone. We can鈥檛 see the base from our听vantage point, but we can hear the impact of still more rocks as they hit the talus. Then comes a helicopter. All this鈥攖he sirens, the helicopter, the SAR personnel getting dispatched鈥攊s听familiar if you鈥檝e been climbing in the Valley long enough. It could mean anything. 听听
Drew and I drive to the El Capitan meadow to get a better look at the rockfall. There is a helicopter idling nearby, rescue trucks line the shoulder of the road, and Yosemite park personnel are moving about. A couple of rangers keep the traffic moving and the area clear. The SAR team is debriefing beneath a tree. Our friend, Josh Huckaby, a YOSAR veteran, gives Drew a look that means one thing: bad news.听
听
By evening, I鈥檓 back at my camp. I have frantic messages from my wife and my dad wondering if I鈥檓 okay. News travels fast these days. Still, the information is hazy. Some reports say it was climbers who were buried under the debris, some say hikers. What we do know: One dead, one injured. I get a message on my Instagram account from a friend in the United Kingdom. He says he鈥檚 a good friend of the guy that died, a man named Andrew Foster. Foster was from Wales and worked in sales for Patagonia Inc. Europe. He was not climbing. He and his wife, Lucy, were picking up trash along the base of El Capitan when the rock fell. Andrew didn鈥檛 make it. Lucy was rushed to the hospital with a punctured lung and is reportedly in weak听but not critical condition. In the message, my friend writes: 鈥淗e had just handed in his notice to take a year long, once in a lifetime adventure with Lucy鈥his was just a holiday and just the beginning.鈥
The next day, I鈥檓 half way up Selaginella, a climb near Yosemite falls, with a different partner, when a thick, white cloud suddenly surrounds us. I get a text from a friend who says the outgoing road has been closed due to another big听rockfall and park personnel are funneling the traffic out the other side of the valley. We assume it is much bigger this time, since we鈥檙e about three miles up valley from El Capitan and the dust cloud is dense and easily visible.听
That evening, back听on the ground, I鈥檓 able to get more information. The new rockfall was in the same location as Wednesday鈥檚. A 500-foot-long, rectangular piece came off the wall directly above the last one. It鈥檚 estimated to be as many听as ten times larger than the others. A driver was reportedly struck in the head when a rock flew through his sunroof. As of this writing, it was听not clear whether听he was听in critical condition or not. That鈥檚 the only injury that was reported. The park issued a 24-hour closure on the road.听 听
Friday morning I have coffee at the SAR site near camp IV. Everyone is talking about the rockfall but it鈥檚 in that casual, matter-of-fact way in which first responders recount horrific events. The conversations eventually turn to climbing and other day-to-day things. More coffee is poured. I send a text to my buddy who was on the body recovery team that pulled Foster from the rubble:听听
“What are you up to?” I write.听
“Stress debriefing at 10:00,” he responds.听