Solo
by Tre Johnsen

Morgantown West Virginia draws many people, most of them students, but there are others. Some come from other parts of West Virginia to sample the rock, or buy gear. This is how I met Solo.

He happened to come into the store where I worked looking for a new pair of shoes. We talked and as we did, I began to talk to him not as a customer, but as a person who shared my love, the love of climbing. He was a teacher from a close by town and he spent his summer vacations climbing as much as possible around the east coast.

I talked with him about many things that afternoon. Climbing being our main topic, but we branched off on the occasional tangent. You could tell he was a nice guy simply from the look in his eye. Solo was the type of person that would do anything for a friend, genuinely without a question asked. He struck me as very personable and I would have to say that I liked him immediately.

He left with a pair of Mythos and my phone number. I had invited him to come back to town to spend the day at Woodlands, which is a local sport climbing area. After some quick arrangements I found him at my home the next weekend, and we headed to Woodlands for a day of climbing. He got to try out his new shoes and I got a chance to see him in action.

We headed to Woodlands in the melting snow of March. Morgantown got hit with a heavy snow just a few weeks earlier and it hadn’t yet had a chance to melt, which deterred neither of us. We had to park at the lion’s pavilion along the main road because both of the other secret parking areas would be covered in snow too deep to get my Calais in to, let alone out of.

Once out of the car we geared up and crossed the road while no cars we coming and entered the woods. We had to move quickly because this area was closed and we were trespassing on private property.

Back in the late seventies and early eighties Woodland was developed and became extremely popular with the locals of Morgantown. Eventually word spread to Pittsburgh and a great number of climbers would visit during the weekend. It became necessary to wait in line for the routes you intended on climbing. With so many people visiting the area the owner, Greer Industries, banned climbing. Greer hired an armed guard to watch over the area, and climbers were escorted out by gunpoint. The Access Fund became involved and fought a lengthy battle to no avail, and climbing remained banned. Over the years the guard disappeared and the locals came back. The area remains closed, but is visited by the lucky few who have the key to get in.

In this instance the key was simply the knowledge of the cliff line and how to get to the main area. We slogged through snow up to our knees that had accumulated under the cliffs. The approach in the snow was much more difficult as we slipped about. Finally, we reached the main crag after the long hike and began to climb.

Solo should have joined the circus with another climber I know as "carnies, you know small hands." He stood at maybe 5’6" and may have weighed a buck thirty if he was lucky. His stature did not slow him any as he moved up the various routes. He was one of those guys that climbs like water running up the rock. Every move is smooth, effortless and controlled. He climbed route after route in the same matter showing no signs of fatigue. He climbed as if that was his sole purpose in life.

We left that day and exchanged email addresses. He promised to put me on his email list and keep me updated of upcoming trips. True to his word within in days I was on his list and receiving daily accounts of the upcoming plans and adventures of all his climbing friends. I got to know them as well as Solo better in the coming weeks through the electronic messages that arrived daily on my home PC. This was my only contact with him for a month.

In that time I participated in a 5K run, just for the hell of it. I had run the previous summer, and thought that it might be fun. I had not run for almost eight months, but I figured that I would be able to handle it and if nothing else I would burn off my winter flab. I ended up finishing in just over twenty-one minutes. In the process I almost puked several times from the over exertion. At the finish I felt as though I might pass out. Needless to say I was sore for the next week.

The following week I was lucky enough to partake in a picnic. The picnic was sponsored by the college, and is not something that you just pass up because of the free food and beer. I attended and did the usual, ate one burger for every beer I drank to avoid getting too inebriated. I decided to join in a basketball game there, which may be one of the worst decisions I ever made. It was almost as bad as running a 5k without taking so much as a light jog for eight months. During the game I made a sharp turn, and before I knew it I was on the ground. The pain was incredible. I dragged myself off the court and into the grass. Knowing that I would not be able to do anything else I headed back to the beer where I broke my rule. I ended up downtown where I drank the night away. The next thing that I remember is waking up at home, with my head throbbing as bad my knee. When I got out of bed I found that I could not even straighten the leg. I hobbled to class that day, where my classmates gave me the temporary nickname "gimpy".

Later in May I received word that Solo was organizing a Seneca trip. I was not going to be able to go due to my knee, so I did not reply. Later that week on Friday Solo appeared in the store like a vision. He had not been able to find anyone to go, so he had come to me in hopes that I might be free. I told him my whole story. He said that I most likely tore my ACL and that I should go to the doctor. To this point I thought I had just given it a good twist and believed all I would need to do was take a few weeks to heal.

I wanted to go so bad, but there was no way that I would be able to go, not because of my knee, but because of work. I was scheduled to work that whole weekend. I wasn’t his last hope though. He had one other person to check with. If they couldn’t go he planned on rope soloing easier routes. I expressed my concerns, but he retaliated with the fact that he had rope soloed before and was sure he would be up for the task.

I said my goodbye and thanked him for the advice. He truly was good to the bone. I promised that I would make the next trip, and told him to keep in touch through email. This is probably the only promise that he ever broke.

Sunday of that week I checked my email for the first time since last I saw Solo. The line ran through me like an electric current. It was painful and made my heart jump, my pace quicken, my mind quake. It read, "Solo died today at 9:43 am due to complications from a head injury resulting from a climbing fall."

The shock burned and ate at my conscience. I just saw him on Friday, I thought. It can’t be true. I later found that he was not able to find anyone else to go with him to Seneca. He had chosen to climb Ecstasy Junior by rope soloing the route. To the best of anyone’s knowledge on the second pitch Solo rappelled off his rope while cleaning gear. He fell 60 feet to the ground and rolled down to Seneca Creek where he was found by a hiker. He was Medi-vaced out. No one knows how long he had been lying in the creek. He made it through the night, but fell victim to the massive head trauma he had received during the fall early the next morning.

The summer before, while bouldering in Cooper’s Rock, I worked a route on the Tombstone boulder with Old Man Murphy and Sir Riley. I spotted the route while Sir Riley, figured out the crux move. I was the first to make it to the top of route, and was credited with the first ascent. To this day I don’t know if it is a true first ascent. The privilege of naming the problem was given to me. Till the day that Solo died the right name just didn’t hit me. I didn’t know Solo all that well, or for very long, but every time I get the chance I go to visit.

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