Man on a wire.

Starting up the Ridge. Photo by Ivan Gomez.

A few lite clouds were moving in by the time the entire team had made the ridge. It was still a stellar day, but we knew there would only be more clouds, and very likely rain, as the day progressed. Thus any celebration of having attained the Ridge was brief.

All of Indonesia fell away beneath us, starting with the flanks of Carstensz which abruptly dropped off 2,500 feet on either side. At times the ridge was generously wide. At others it was a ledge perhaps half the width of a boot sole. The air was cool, and small tufts of snow lay gathered in a few of the shady impressions. The wind, a climber's greatest concern, was slack. 

There is a complete mind shift Climbers go through walking a ridge. When climbing up the side of a mountain one focuses all his attention upward. There is little cause to look down and suffer the insecurities of height. Hand holds are plentiful and a taught rope offers immediate reassurance should one falter. All of this is lost on a ridgewalk. Though roped still, any fall would not be arrested until the climber has plunged some distance past the line. Our focus shifts downward, choosing careful foot placements, diligent to not trip on the rope. We are very very aware of how far "down" is. 

Twenty minutes up the ridge, we came to an 80 foot gap, the Tyrolean Traverse.  The only means for crossing the gap is to hang from a cluster of lines and pull one's self across the breathless drop, hand over hand. Our local Guide, Steven, told us about 1 in 10 climbers will end their expedition here, never reaching the summit. I found this easy to believe. 

Dave crossing the Tyrolean Traverse. Photo by Ivan Gomez.

There were four ropes and a steel cable already in place, gifts from prior expeditions. Our Guides inspected the condition of each as well as the anchors. Then Steven crossed first, followed by Dan. Together they inspected the ropes and anchors on the other side before signaling for the rest of the team to follow. When my turn came Jaimie helped to clip a large locking carabiner through my waist harness and around all four ropes. He then clipped my safety leash around the steel cable. It was hard to imagine the failure of a system with so much redundancy, yet primal instincts screamed to me as I leaned back into the void. My harness took the weight reassuringly, and the ropes loaded into shallow U shape. I could see team members waving encouragement from back on the rock, but  heard nothing over the roar of my own breathing. I was hanging from a wire 16,000 feet in the air. I looked over my shoulder at one point to view the world beneath me. This was a conscious choice. I had thought a great deal about this moment during the days leading up to it. For most of that time I had decided to not look down, feeling certain no good could come of it. But I changed my mind the day before. I would never come this way again. What a shame it would be to have had the opportunity and not taken a peek. Pearing through wispy clouds below me, I saw cascading terraces of lime stone shaded blue-grey in the shadows of their rocky relief. My stomach lept the way it does when driving fast over railroad tracks, but did not come back down. I felt a surge of adrenaline which came in handy as I pulled hard to ascend the uphill end of the lines. Now I heard the reassuring voice of Dan. "Three more pulls and you're here," he said. And then I was. Dan transferred my safety leash to the next rope above the anchors while I clung to the wall. Then he removed my harness carabiner from the four ropes while I climbed up over the anchors and onto the ledge. Ivan greeted me there with an enthusiastic knuckle bump. We moved higher on the rope to make room for the next team member to cross. 

Carol Masheter crossing the Tyrolean Traverse

With a confident smile on her face, Carol leaned back into the chasm and began pulling herself across. She was followed by Denis, Pal, Raymond and Jaimie. We then continued up the ridge toward the summit. 

Photo by Denis Vernette

I came to another gap, a miniature Tyrolean Traverse no wider than a full stride. But the approach was elevated, such that I had to downclimb into the gap before reaching a foot across it. This seemed little challenge given what we had just done, but I lost my footing and plummeted down into the gap. My harness went taught as the safety line held me dangling in the breach, several hundred feet off the ground. 

Dave crossing the gap. Photo by Denis Vernette

I have never relied so completely on a safety rope. I scolded myself for the mis-step as I scrambled up the other side, pledging to redouble my focus. 

We were approaching the summit now and Dan wanted us to arrive together. He called for those at the lead, Denis and myself, to let the team come together before taking the final pitch. We hunkered down on a ledge and nibbled the dried coconut chips I had loaded in my pocket. I thought about all the months of training that had led up to this moment, the sacrifices, the planning, the money. I thought about the people who had supported me along the way; my Boys, Lin, my Sisters and Parents. I thought about John in Anacortes, Greg and Linda in Walla Walla, my Assistant Sonia, David and Marian in Bellingham, my Barber, Eric at the Athletic Club and my longtime climbing partner, Ty. I looked over at Denis, seated beside me. We said nothing, but just smiled at one another. Then Denis offered his hand in congratulations.