I'd been putting it off for far too long. For two weeks I'd been spraying in the Meadow about how I'd solo Brandon Adams and Kristopher Wickstrom's unrepeated El Cap A4 - Neptune. Now, I was the last person to believe it would happen. My faith was wavering too. I actually had to climb it now.

Harder than Ephemeron, mandating modified microbeaks, and with plenty of potential for big falls: the route certainly had a reputation. Brandon's reputation was also a cause for concern. The world class big wall climbers I spoke to who had climbed with him all said the same thing – you just sit back at the belay and marvel at the master at work. It felt foolhardy to attempt to follow where he and Kristoffer had gone, but I had to try.

---

Day 1

I stood at the base in equilibrium, the beauty of the wall attracting me, the fear of the falls repelling. The feeling wasn't new. If successful, this would be my tenth El Cap Solo in the last two years. Each time still felt preposterous.

All my kit was up and I could delay no more. I flaked my ropes on the floor and started free climbing up the Alcove slab.

The first pitch took about twenty minutes. It was mostly bolts and easy free climbing up the start of the Wall of Early Morning Light. I cleaned at a similar pace, and was then presented with my first taste of Neptune. It was marked on the topo as 5.10 A0, so I brought my free shoes and chalk.

After some easy aid I ran into the 10ft of mandatory free climbing. It was genuinely slightly tricky to go from standing on the bolt to clipping the next, especially whilst self-belaying, but I managed to do it without falling. At the end of the subsequent bolts some tricky hooks led right into C1 and a tension traverse to the base of Space. The whole pitch went free on the first ascent, but I'm weak.

As a man of ethics, I have renounced fixing pitches on El Cap, declaring it cheating. As such, I didn't fix my ropes to the ground after those two pitches, but rather elected to unrope and sleep on the biggest ledge on El Cap - the ground.

Whilst the first couple pitches are good and worthwhile, you can walk off from the top of them. When I ran into Marek Reganowicz in the cafe that evening and told him that I hadn't fixed, he gave me a fist bump. After I explained I had done two pitches and walked off, I think he wanted to turn it into a standard punch.

---

Day 2

I spent too long hanging out in the morning in the cafe and at Climber's Coffee in Camp 4, finding it far easier to chill with friends than commit to the solo. By the time I had walked all my food up and hauled the two slab pitches to my high point it was getting dark. I bivvied in the Alcove and mentally prepared myself for the wall.

---

Day 3

I woke early after a bad sleep. A raccoon had come in the night and tried to steal my breakfast doughnuts. I managed to fight it off with my doughnuts intact, but it had rattled me slightly.

The day began with pitch 3 - an 80ft overhanging copperhead ladder. Brandon and Kristoffer's grades were calibrated by calling this pitch (shared with Space) A3 on the Neptune topo. The current guidebook for Space has it as one of the A4+ cruxes.

It went quickly and scarily as I clipped up a multitude of mank, mainly on old #1 heads. Despite the heads, it was undeniably a beautiful pitch aesthetically. There were even a few rivets and good heads to stop me from fearing for my femurs too fervently.

Pitch 4 was neither short nor quick. It passed two intermediate belays and went for 190 feet through the steep left edge of the Alcove. It was absolutely phenomenal, with thin, shallow cracks linking up the outrageously overhanging wall.

Pitch 5 saw me leave Space and land on Neptune. I was a little worried to do my first proper Neptune nailing, though it was only graded A2. It was steep but also mostly straightforward, which gave me confidence that not all the Neptune pitches would be as desperate as I feared. I set my ledge up for my first proper evening on the wall and began some heavy chilling.

Before going to sleep I had a look at the topo and checked the pitches for the next day. Back-to-back A4. Bugger.

---

Day 4

Pitch 6 was apparently part of Dave Turner's 'Dawn Direct', and would be my first taste of what Brandon and Kristoffer considered to be worthy of A4. It was a techy pitch on mostly marginal beaks and old heads, though did have the occasional bombproof cam slot to keep it sporty. Whilst it was one of the harder A4 pitches I'd led compared to those on the trade routes I'd done, it went without too much worry. I was struck with overconfidence that the rest of the route would be as doable.

Pitch 7 was also A4, but the topo showed a load of bolts on it. I briefly forgot who put up the route as I passed it off as a clip up. After some bat hooks and bolts off the belay, that illusion dissolved as I was faced with the limits of what the #1 Tomahawk can do.

Off a good bolt was an aid boulder problem - a sideways step onto the most abysmal beak that's ever taken my weight. The fall was clearly safe, so I switched my brain off and got on it. A reach around a shallow corner to bang another beak blindly into its seam was followed by a scary bounce test. I knew that the beak I was on likely wouldn't hold the shock if the next failed the test. Both held, and after a couple more beaks and hooks a bolt appeared. Again, my confidence was buoyed, though the corner above looked complicated.

A head and two beak tips later I was a big reach away from a rivet. Instead of top stepping the delicate placement I opted to try to put in another piece. A shallow #1 beak hung stubbornly out of a tiny depression. It held a timid bounce, and the rivet called me to clip it. I waited for a sharp upwards breeze to take some weight off, before attempting to levitate up.

As I was stretching for the rivet, the beak ripped and sent me sailing down, hanger in hand. A screamer on the last beak ripped, as did the beak it was on, as did the beak below that, and I stripped the seam. I probably fell about 30 feet. My mates on Mescalito (C3) whooped as I tried to act nonchalant. Really I was rattled. This was bloody hard.

I jugged back to the bolt and carefully replaced the ripped beaks. At my high point I tried to place beaks in a few different spots, but nothing would work. In the end I got in my top steps on the dodgy lower beak and fumbled around getting a hanger over the wide washer on the rivet. It slid on and I progressed on more rivets and hooks around an arête to a jagged flake. I think the flake joined the Space rock scar on its other side and felt thin and brittle. I timidly bumped cams up it, clipping a bolt to the side of where the flake was scariest, before reaching the belay.

This pitch had done me in, and the next one was over 200 feet, so I finished early.

---

Day 5

The 8th pitch would see me rejoining Space, which I was psyched for after some ridiculously technical terrain. Thin beaks linked short ladders of bathooks and bolts. This was followed by a precarious traverse across a narrow flat ledge on big hooks. They would latch on tiny bumps in the bald rock, which kept them from skating off. As I weighted the hooks they flexed and the arms grated against the granite making a terrifying scraping sound. Relief flowed through me as I clipped the good bolt at the end of the traverse. It soon drained as I looked up at the blank section above.

Though I was now back on Space, I was perplexed as to where to go. The groove above seemed devoid of any imperfection into which gear could be convinced. The rock scar to the right was clearly blank.

Each move allowed a glimpse of the next, though it constantly seemed I was running into a dead end. Baby beaks and a tiny talisman totem provided access to an intricate and beautiful hooking sequence. The gear below would unzip to the bolt if I fell as I hooked between the flat natural micro edges.

I'm accustomed to attempting to hook the sinker spot on an otherwise acceptable placement, but here I was hooking the only acceptable spot on an otherwise unacceptable placement. Surgeon-like precision was required to rise without ripping the hooks. The final hook move was a long blind reach to what turned out to be a good but slightly hollow flake. I placed a beak off this and, on a whim, left a rated skyhook for protection to make sure I wouldn't have to repeat that section. I didn't tape or tension it down since I didn't think I really needed it.

Another beak later I was at a fixed head. As I clipped it and began transferring my weight to test it, the head immediately ripped. I had placed the beak I was on in a dirty crack, trusting my Scottish winter roots of nailing Bulldogs into frozen turf. Unfortunately the turf hadn't quite frozen in the California sun, and so the beak ripped in a puff of mud.

I had placed a scream-aid on the beak below, thinking a small fall would activate but not break it (they snap at 5kN). I was wrong, the beak stayed in but the screamer broke. A second screamer deployed as I came to a halt, held by the hook. Had this failed the fall would surely have been double the size. I ended up only going a calm 30ft. Again, the Mescalito-ites made me mask my fear. I reasserted to them that it was properly hard. A bomber #3 beak went where the head had ripped. Classic.

The rest of the pitch stuttered up the flowing groove as I feared another fall, until good cams behind bad flakes finally led me to the anchor. This A3 had taken me over three hours to lead, longer than any of the A4+ pitches on Reticent Wall (A4+) or The Sea in Spring.

Pitch 9 was another looker. Fantastic climbing forged up and right into an intermediate belay.

From there some unfamiliar C1 cam backcleaning up a wide flare brought me to the familiar Tempest terrain. I climbed the section after South Seas' Rubberband Man penji for the fourth time in the last twelve months, and then broke left to the belay. Yet another 200-foot haul had me haggard, and I was done for the day. The ledge was soon deployed and the beers were soon going down.

---

Day 6

The morning began with another pitch repetition. It felt good to move efficiently up the A2 beaking on mainly obvious sinker #3s, and before long I was at the next belay.

Pitch 11 was one of the main reasons for wanting to climb the route. I had seen the thin seam from Tempest (A4) and Atlantis (A4) in Spring, and it had been on my mind since. I started up the 'Pillar of the Community' on relatively sinker beaks, then cruised up its long but good head ladder. From the end of the crux of this "A4" pitch, I reached right into the A3 crack and the difficulties began.

A barely existent beak seam blasts from the pillar towards the Pacific Ocean Wall. Tipped out tiny beak would follow tipped out tiny beak. Apprehension rose as I went further from solid protection, until eventually I could spot a slot for a bomber #3 above. A few moves later I was nailing a beak deep into the widening and could briefly relax.

The same process repeated above, sketching up on dodgy gear between the good but spaced placements. Towards the top a totem was my salvation. It marked the end of the fear, and soon after I finished the phenomenal pitch. It was all-time nailing, some of the most beautiful beaking I've done on El Cap.

Whilst I'd planned on trying to do the pitch after, I was satisfied with my day and so settled down in my ledge and enjoyed the sun setting on the Cathedrals.

---

Day 7

My plan was to climb a couple pitches – as I'd always been able to do each day no matter the route. Pitch 12 was only 135ft of A3, so I was confident I'd get to the A4 'Lateralus' pitch in good time. Things didn't work out that way.

Terminally thin beak tips above a steep ramp led out from the belay. It was the first pitch where the fall didn't seem entirely clean. I moved slowly, often staying below the bad beak I was on whilst placing the next to minimise the outward force on it. I'd then equalise consecutive beaks and clip a screamer. My proximity to the belay made me worry about the force a fall would generate.

Eventually good gear was gained, before more crap led to a bolt. I attempted to reset my restless mind.

From the bolt a really terrible beak was followed by a standardly bad beak. I spent about forty-five minutes on this trying to get something to stick above. I tried everything, including my filed down beaks and modified RURPs, but nothing would go. I even tried top stepping the dodgy beak (which started moving) to look for a placement higher. I couldn't get anything in. In my desperation I left a ladder on the beak and reversed to the bolt. From there I lowered back to the belay to get my heading kit.

I try my best to avoid placing heads. I've placed a couple in my life, and in my opinion it's best if they are only used as a last resort. One of the reasons Neptune is so spectacular is because there's very few fixed pieces on its pitches. Some of the techy beak seams on the route might feel easier if you laced them with heads, especially if you commit the (unfortunately not unheard of) crime of enhancing the placements first.

I don't think this is sustainable. It would turn a beautiful technical pitch into a boring scary clip up for subsequent ascensionists. I was really happy to see that Brandon and Kristoffer put the route up in such good style by only using heads where absolutely necessary. In this case, though, I felt I had no other option.

Soon I'd made it back up to my high point and was unhappily heading from the bad beak. I didn't clip the head with my daisy as I neared its completion, so when the beak I was on ripped, the head stayed in place, whilst I fell onto the bolt below. Next go when I got back to it, I just gave the head a few more taps and carried on.

The rest of the seam went on more bad beaks before a bolt and big hook traverse to a ledge crawl. From there I joined the PO and finished the pitch (after having to make an intermediate belay on beaks just below the anchor to go and free my stuck rope). As I jumared the pitch to clean it, the first half of the tricky seam (including the head I placed) ripped out, so I ended up leaving the route how I found it. That made me feel less bad about placing it, but didn't totally absolve me.

That lead had taken about four hours with all the faff of falling and having to go back to the belay twice. I was so mentally stressed that I decided to finish at 2pm and chill on my ledge there. I felt bad about it, but if I'd struggled that much on an A3 pitch, then I didn't want to face the A4 after.

---

Day 8

I was really worried about the 'Lateralus'. It was one of only two named pitches on the route, and the A4 grade frightened me given how hard I'd found the A3 the day before. The perfect combatant for the fear was how psyched I was to try to climb the pitch. I had looked across at it from South Seas (A3+) last year before I knew Neptune even existed and wondered if anything went that way. You can see its seam through the roof from the Meadow as it splits pale and golden granite.

The seam seemed shut from below, but as I gained height I could see its placements. The beaks weren't great, but there were enough openings that you could stay low and avoid levering them out. The occasional sinker also made it feel fairly safe.

Happy with how I climbed, I found myself a little below the bolts that led to the arête. I got excited and reached high to clip, but as I did I pulled too far out on the beak and it ripped. The beak below caught me after a bit of extra distance falling from rope stretch, the bags moving up, and a scream aid ripping.

I pulled back up, replaced the beak, made another beak move, then clipped the bolt with delight. I thought the pitch would be trivial from there, but after a couple of moves found nothing. I realised there was a little ledge a bit lower to get a big hook on, then made some physics defying placement to sketch up to a bathook and the belay. It's a proper good pitch, Kristoffer was drilling truly as a last resort.

After that I walked up a couple PO wall pitches and went to bed.

---

Day 9

Another PO Walk went to my favourite El Cap ledge - The Island in the Sky. I sat there chilling for a while before looking at the next pitch. The 'Fear Inoculum' was a 220ft mega pitch of A4. The name scared me a bit, as did the dark, mossy rock it went through.

Having done the 5.8 R section on the PO last year I wasn't worried, and didn't bring my free shoes. I also didn't bother to leave behind the aid rack for the free climbing. This nearly went awry as I climbed away from the PO, though I managed to avoid doing a somewhat sketchy mantle by using my big hooks. A couple more hooks from a hollow pillar brought me to a bolt.

Above this was the most technical hooking and beaking I'd done by some margin. The pitch had three bolts, so was safe, but for long periods of time I thought I would have to bail since I couldn't work out what to do. It's slightly put me off doing first ascents for a while. I don't think I have the strength of character that Brandon and Kristoffer clearly have to work it out when it gets hard instead of reaching for the drill when it's acceptable to do so.

Halfway up I reached a little ledge and the pitch calmed down, though the rock got worse. After a long time on lead I finally stretched my ropes to the belay, fixed them, and went back down to the Island for well-earned beers and a solo dance party. Whilst I was happy to only have one more A4 pitch left, I was definitely wary of the Every Man for Himself A3.

---

Day 10

A long jug and haul in the morning gave me a slow start to the climbing. On pitch 18 the climbing itself went even slower. Steep crunchy rock arched out from the belay. The groove formed the left edge of the Cyclops Eye, then the route went left onto the face. Again, it was 220 feet long.

Easy placements were made slow by suspect rock. It wasn't 'ahh the whole pitch is going to fall off' style terrifying, more like good chossy fun. Bomber slots I'd be aiming for would often turn out to be unusable crap behind detached flakes, and I regularly had to go up the cam sizes as placements crumbled and became larger. It was too steep to cheat by trying to take weight off the gear. By the time I was at the top of the Weetabix-like groove I was drained, and I wasn't even halfway through the pitch.

I went round the arête and hooked and beaked my way across microledges. I then beaked up a thin corner before beaking up a thin ramp. At one point I ran out of beaks and had to lower and back clean. It was another four-hour plus lead.

Since I was on holiday, I decided to finish for the day rather than climb when the wall was in the shade and get a bit chilly. I'm not a fucking alpinist.

---

Day 11

I had four more pitches before the top, and only one more was independent to Neptune. Pitch 19 went quickly in the morning, with the only difficulty being a tricky section of natural hooking above a bolt. At one point a little ledge lurked not far below, but the climbing that's in its range was sinker. From there I raged up three familiar Tempest pitches and made it over the rim with my bags before it was dark.

I slept on the summit and once again a raccoon came in the night, scrounging for my left-over food. I imagined it was the same one as down in the Alcove all those days ago, though it probably had a simpler journey up than me.