Randy, Craig and I gazed up at the dark foreboding east face of the North Astro Dome as Randy pointed out the line. I could see his line but there was one important thing missing, stances to drill the protection bolts from. If only it wasn’t dead vertical we might have a chance but, it was vert from bottom to top and not a ledge in sight. I expressed my doubts but Randy reiterated his lecture of the hike out, the point of which was that ” it would go” and that there would be no aid used.

      It was April 1978 and the climbing world was engaged in a passionate ethical debate. The insidious Euro practices of “hang-dogging” and “rap bolting” were creeping into the American climbing scene and we weren’t having any of it. Climbing was about style not numbers and we Cali climbers were diehard purists. Our magnum opus would not be tainted by aid.

 
      Randy was adamant and insisted that if either one of us used aid he would literally pull us off the climb, leader fall or not. He was a year older, more worldly and we believed he meant every word.

 
     Craig was first to lead and after some struggle had the third bolt in. Spencer, Craig and Randy had started the route a week or two before and placed the first two bolts on that day.

 
     I was up next and started climbing with a trickle charge of adrenaline boosting my pulse rate.  The rock was perfect brown and red varnish with small positive edges. The moves were 5.10- with the hardest passing the second bolt (that Spencer had drilled) at mid 5.10. I got a couple moves above Craig’s bolt and prepared to drill. The only problem was I couldn’t let go to hold the drill! Craig hollered up that the trick was to hold the drill next to the hold that my left hand was on so that I could hold both the hold and the drill at the same time. I felt like I was going to fall over backwards. Starting the hole was a struggle but once the hole was ¼” deep or so I could hold myself in with the drill alone. After some effort I got it in and repeated the whole scene again 10 feet higher. I was gassed and lowered off.

 
     Then it was Randy’s turn. Climbing smoothly he made his way up past my high point occasionally making comments about the beauty of the rock or the quality of the moves. We were all in agreement; this route was of the highest quality, 5 stars on a 5 star scale. Randy got another bolt in and started traversing right as he could see a good flake 20 feet or so away that might offer a stopper or hex placement. The traverse was easy but the flake was crap for pro, he couldn’t get anything good in and it was too steep to drill. We could all see a good stance another 12 or 15 feet to the right and Randy decided to head out that way. We begged him to try again for pro at the flake because the runout to the stance was horrendous. His reply was, ”there is no pro, I’m going for it.”  

 
     The traverse immediately got more difficult and looked harder still further on. Randy carefully worked his way out from the flake and soon was 8 or 10 feet away where he stalled out. He was only a few feet from the stance but the last move was the crux. The phrase “watch me” was repeated many times.  A couple more inches and then his foot slipped. The fall would be huge. With the slack and stretch in the rope he was looking at a 60 to 80 footer. Craig was hip belaying and was ready to both yard in the rope and run backwards to catch the fall. I was pacing and my hands were sweating uncontrollably.

 
      Somehow he held on and desperately scrabbled back a few feet. Randy muttered to himself and us, “I was so close, if I could just…..”  He launched again. He must have wanted it bad.  Once again the scene was repeated including the slip, we were starting to freak out. I yelled up “Randy you HAVE to get some pro!” He looked at it again and returned to the flake to rest. We relaxed for a few minutes while Randy rested but suddenly the sound of  the tap, tap, tap of drilling drifted down. Craig and I looked at each other in surprise and then up at Randy. Sure enough he was drilling with BOTH hands free. “What’s going on up there,” we yelled?  The reply,” I’m on a hook!” 

 
     A hook, what the hell, that’s aid! Where did that come from,” we asked? Randy’s answer regarding the hooks origin was vague at best but suddenly the humor of the situation dawned on us. Randy was using aid and we had to pull him off!

 
     We agreed to warn him first, “We are going to pull you off,” we yelled. The reply was an emphatic  “noooooo, don’t do it!”  Craig readied himself, “OK Randy, here goes.”  “Noooo!!!!,”  again.  Well, in the end we didn’t pull him off. How could you pull one of your best friends off even if he had been so pompous? We couldn’t do it.

      Randy banged in two bolts at the flake and called it a belay. He explained that since it was a belay and that a hanging belay is aid anyway it was OK. It was an interesting rationale and not entirely without merit.

     That was as far as we got that day. Randy lowered off, we packed it up and headed home. The hike out was animated by an even more spirited ethical debate and much heckling of the guilty party.

 
      It was the end of that Josh season and the route sat undone until November when Randy and I returned without Craig or Spencer. I’m not sure what priorities they had that prevented them from being there. After all, what could be more important than finishing this stellar line?

 
     I led the first pitch to the hanging belay. The quality of the climbing was only surpassed by the spectacular position of the line. Each section was 5.10-, the varnish was beautiful, the pitch was perfect. Watching Randy climb to the stance I was kicking myself for not bringing the camera.

 
     Randy took the sharp end and made the traverse to the good stance without any trouble. Soon he had a bolt in and continued to the big ledge one pitch from the top placing two more bolts along the way. After awhile an “off belay” drifted down. I followed the traverse and found the last move hard. It felt about 10c to me on a toprope. It would have been insanity to run out the whole traverse. The rest of the pitch had more 10- moves.  He brought me up and I cruised the final steep but easy 5.8 crack to the summit.