Tom's Story

El Cap - what could go wrong?

I’ve been very busy the last few weeks, as I’ve just had the US rights to Psychovertical returned to me (when a book goes out of print, you get the rights back), meaning I can publish a much-improved new version. This one has a lot more images in it, and the appendix now has several stories from other climbers who climbed the Reticent, from Kevin Thaw’s second ascent in 97, to Brandon Adams ' one-day ascent in 2025. Plus all sorts of little fun bits and bobs, like Tomas Humar’s post-solo interview, and some extra writing by me, a postscript, on revisiting the crux ledge in 2018, while climbing Tribal Rite, and what Psychovertical means to me, and the subsequent twenty years of climbing. The book should be out in a few weeks, everywhere but the UK (Random House seems to have no intention of letting the rights slip).

But in my research for the book, I came across a little story of big wall Brit soloing I’d forgotten, and it seems to have been lost to the internet, and only now on the Way Back Machine: the story of when Tom Randell (yes, that Tom), took a bad fall on El Cap, and almost ended up being charged with recklessness after his rescue by YOSAR.

So I thought I’d reshare it here, so it lives on a little longer, as it’s a great story (who’d have believed, back in 2002, that Tom would go on to be one of the best climbers on the planet).

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Hi,

It was me — so here’s my side of the story before you hear it from the rumor mill.

I was attempting to break the solo record on Eagle’s Way (A3) on El Cap. I wasn’t on Reticent — although there was another soloist over there at the time who may also have got in trouble.

I started at 4 a.m. by headtorch and free-climbed most of the first six pitches. Things were going well, and I had no problems. In the afternoon, I continued with the “meat and potatoes” of the climb after a nice, lazy lunch on a comfortable ledge below the Black Pillar (Pitch 7).

I reached the end of Pitch 10 as darkness fell. Pitch 11 is the crux, which I led in the dark (didn’t feel that hard!). It was an awkward leaning corner with about 25 ft of shallow Lost Arrows (probably didn’t help that I only had three with me — I like to climb as clean as possible). It went fine until I reached the belay at around 8 p.m. (after 16 hours of climbing). While cleaning that pitch, my first set of headlamp batteries died. Fortunately, I had a brand-new spare (from an unnamed climbing shop!), but it turned out to be a dud and failed after half an hour on Pitch 12 while I was on the RURPs. No big drama — I simply lowered back to the belay and settled in for a night in my harness.

The next morning, I finished leading Pitch 12 and got fully racked up for Pitch 13. The sequence went: bolt (back-cleaned), rivet (with a big hanger), copperhead (back-cleaned), RURP (back-cleaned), RURP (back-cleaned), copperhead. I had just taken my adjustable daisy off the last RURP and was reaching up for the next placement when — ping! — it was roller-coaster time. I fell 20 ft back to the rivet, which blew, and kept falling until I hit the belay (a proper factor 2). The rope came tight on my GriGri, but that didn’t stop me — the locking carabiner snapped off, and I continued falling another 20 ft until my backup knot caught me. On the way down, I hit a ledge with my knee (luckily with no serious injury), flipped upside down, and took some nasty rope burns to my left hand (I’m left-handed). That was fun… until the pain hit. I could hardly use my left hand, and the fall had badly inflamed an old back injury, turning me into a 90-year-old man.

I jugged the 40 ft back to the belay and weighed up my options. I really wanted to finish the route in a good time, but I had to be realistic. It had taken me 20 minutes just to jug 40 ft of rope. My GriGri was mangled, so I’d have to switch to a slower system. I could stand up straight, but any bending or exertion of my back muscles was excruciating. In the end, I made the call and asked for a rescue. Yes, I hated myself for it, and I know it was the wimp’s way out — but at least I’m a wimp who gets to live another day.

The rescue went smoothly, and both YOSAR and the nurses at the clinic were brilliant. Then the interviews started…

What I did wrong (according to them):

1. They argued for a long time about soloing with a GriGri. They really didn’t like it — especially when I said I still think it’s a good system and plan to keep using it.

2. They didn’t like that this was my first big-wall solo (smaller routes apparently don’t count).

3. They didn’t like my bivy gear. I was unequipped for a serious storm, but how many speed climbers haul a portaledge and fly? It was a calculated risk, and I’d checked the weather from multiple sources. I accept that this was on me.

In essence, I can rightly be accused of recklessness — but I still feel I took reasonable precautions (debatable, of course). I would have finished the route in the early afternoon if bad luck hadn’t forced me to climb through the night and then sit out 10 hours of darkness. The rain didn’t arrive until later that afternoon, and the fall was unlucky in how it physically debilitated me.

Well, there you go — hound me, criticize me, and chastise me! I’ll try to answer all your questions.

Tom

P.S. All charges were dropped two days later, and everything is fine now.