Release Party

"But there is a propriety of behavior for rebels as for others. Society can at least expect of rebels that they explain themselves…"

- George Leigh Mallory

My name is Isaac Harris, and by my best estimation, I was the eighth or ninth person in the world to climb the crack named ‘Super Natural’ in Yosemite National Park.

I arrived in the park in May 2023 with a friend from college, with no plans to climb. But after meeting other employees who climbed and joining them on Yosemite’s granite walls, I was instantly captivated. It’s incredible how quickly a hobby can take over your life when you dive in headfirst. Before long, I’d fallen in with a group of young employee climbers—most of them in their late teens or early twenties—and by mid-summer, I was leading 5.8s and following 5.10s.

II had become a climber.

More than just discovering the sport, I discovered the culture. The attitude among Yosemite climbers, as I saw it, was that the rocks existed solely to be climbed. I was arrogant, brash, and stoked. The small group of employee climbers I hung out with and I jokingly called ourselves “The Rock Rascals.”

I don’t remember exactly when I first heard about it, but I recall a porter at the Ahwahnee passing around a hand-drawn topo after work one night, claiming he’d gotten a first ascent on a new crack right next to the final pitch of Super Slide.

The next morning—or maybe the morning after that—four of us biked out to the Ahwahnee and cut up the familiar trail, passing a cautionary poster advertising a “NEW 200-FOOT CRACK,” as if that would keep us away. At the base of the climb, Cole and Andy, our de facto leaders due to their more advanced trad climbing experience (two to three years, compared to my less than one), played rock-paper-scissors to see who would lead it. Andy won.

I tied in with Andy, and Jake tied in with Cole. We started up the climb—Andy first, then me, followed by Cole and Jake. We climbed the first three pitches of Super Slide and then saw the crack, brittle and untouched.

After the climb, we sat at the base and smoked, holding an informal post-mortem of our experience. We joked about what we would have named it; I suggested “Release Party,” not only because of how the climb had come to be but also because the crack "released" you onto a few slab moves to reach the anchor. We all agreed this was one of the more badass adventures any of us had undertaken. The whole experience seemed to affirm our idea of ourselves as pioneers, daredevils, conquerors.

Better to be the fifth person on the moon than the fiftieth, right?

As we walked back into the crowded hubs of Yosemite Valley, Andy and I came up with a flimsy excuse to visit the Mountain Shop. We absolutely had to get three feet of webbing or a non-locker. Of course, our real intent was to brag to the first person we saw about our recent ascent.

Andy happened to know the employee working the counter. After a bit of small talk, he dropped the bomb: “You know, we just climbed the new crack.”

The employee shook his head, unimpressed. “I wouldn’t have done that, bro. It’s dangerous.”

Andy realized he wasn’t going to get the reaction he’d hoped for. As we grabbed our things and walked out, Andy turned around and said, “It is splitter, though.”

Many writers far greater than I have wrestled with the relationship a climber has with danger, with the allure of the mountains, and with the way these factors intertwine in the sport. Is the feeling that’s so addictive the one a climber experiences at the top, or during the climb itself? Or is it both?

And what is the risk of rockfall to a climber in a valley born out of tremendous collapses of house-sized boulders?

Earlier in the season, word spread around Yosemite about an accident on Via Aqua (5.8) involving a loose piece of rock that dislodged onto a climber. When someone heard about it, they remarked, “Well, I guess the climb is safe now!”

The difference, of course, lies in the “trespassing” factor. We knowingly disobeyed the direct order of the Park Service and the recommendations of experts in both climbing and geological fields. Now, the crack is full of expensive monitoring equipment, and I would be surprised if it has seen any ascents by non-approved personnel since those first few weeks after it opened.

Eventually, that chunk of rock splitting from the rest of the wall will fall. It will likely crush a few cars in the Ahwahnee parking lot and may do more damage than that. However, the Ahwahnee remains open for business, and construction continues on the dining room and kitchen. Whether the risk of rockfall is conveyed to guests, I don’t know. I’m guessing it’s not mentioned.