The Diamond

Back in the early 70's we thought we were hot stuff. Dennis and I were just out of high school and were fascinated by aid climbing. It was just so cool to have all that gear and jump on those insane looking lines in Eldo. After nailing a few of the Eldorado classics we decided to go for the big one: the Diamond. We had done a lot of routes up in RMNP but never anything like this.

We humped our gear up to Chasm View and started the raps to Broadway for a bivi in the "cave". It had snowed earlier and there was a light dusting up on the summit of Longs but it was warmer now and we could see water trickling down all over the face. It was getting late but we had no problems with first two raps. The last rap is short and easy - just some low angle stuff before you get onto Broadway proper. But the rope got stuck and we had to do something. I climbed back up and had just fixed the rope when we heard it. Boom. BOOM. We thought lightening had struck right next to us. But no - the sound was coming from the boulderfield at the top of the Diamond. As we looked hundreds of rocks came crashing down. We watched rocks the size of cars fly 1200' through space and shatter in the North Chimney. Rocks pelted Broadway just 100 feet ahead of us. Rocks bounded off the Yellow Wall (our planned route). The noise was deafening: it seemed as if artillery shells were pelting the east face, exploding into dust with each hit. The smell was overpowering.

Dennis and I were frozen in place by the spectacle of it all. If the rope hadn't gotten caught we would have been right underneath the whole thing. We eventually recovered our wits and traversed to the bivi cave for a sleepless night. Not only were we seeing visions of the rockfall over and over in our minds but also the dripping water slowly worked its way farther and farther into the cave, leaving us damp and scared when morning dawned.

There was really no argument about where we should go. We both wanted out of there. Soon. All the way down the North Chimney we could see huge white splotches of powdered rock. The snow was covered with new fragments. We kept looking up wondering whether anything else was ready to teeter over the edge.

We staggered down the trail, shellshocked. Back at the car we found out that the rangers had heard the rockfall down by the trailhead. That was the end of our Diamond attempts for a few years - I went back 3 or 4 years later and did D-7 (back in the good old days of aid!) while Dennis began to concentrate more on snow and ice.

The lesson learned was a profound one: ultimately, we're not in control. Things happen that you can't anticipate. So that's it: how we evolved from cocky young pups to wiser, more humble climbers with a keener appreciation of what we were getting into. John