Brady Robinson & Jimmy Chin
He stood tall and confident in a smart yellow jacket, conspicuously alone, gazing over his pile of gear. We walked over and introduced ourselves. His name was John Bragg and he was going to try to climb Fitz Roy's Supercouloir, solo. We welcomed him to camp and went back to our tent to look his name up in the book, "Mountaineering in Patagonia." Only then did we realize he had been a major force in Patagonian climbing in the '70s: the first ascent of Torre Egger and the first alpine-style ascent of the west face of Cerro Torre. He was back for more. We were impressed.
The weather didn't allow him to make any progress on his objective during the time we spent with him in Campo Bridwell, but it did allow us to get to know him better. John has been an inspiration to us: he's a hard man, husband and father, still climbing and pushing himself at 53. He's also very humble. But alpinism is only an anonymous act in the mountains unless your story is told. John is currently working on a book about his climbs in Patagonia. In the meantime, we want to share a bit of his story.
John Bragg started climbing in 1969 on an Outward Bound course. He was 22 at the time and, though he claims to have had little talent initially, it didn't take him long to become one of the East Coast's top climbers. By the early '70s, John had established rock and ice routes that stand as test pieces even today. He did the first ascent of Repentance (WI 5) at Cathedral Ledge, NH, and was one of the first to experiment with the wrist loops that today's ice climbers take for granted. He was the first to climb Kansas City in the Gunks of New York—an early, standard setting 5.12—and later freed the classic Gravity's Rainbow (5.12). You'll find his name in the first ascent lists of many guidebooks throughout the country.
In 1975, he came down to Patagonia to attempt the first ascent of Cerro Stanhardt. Though the expedition failed to reach the summit, it helped to prepare him for his ascent of Torre Egger the next year with Jim Donini and Jay Wilson. Despite close calls with ice fall and a week in a storm-battered box tent, the team succeeded in making the first-ever ascent of Torre Egger. In stark contrast to Maestri's route on Cerro Torre, John's party placed only four bolts. Torre Egger remains the least climbed of all the major summits in the Fitz Roy range.
The very next year, he returned and made the first alpine-style ascent of Cerro Torre's west face. It was a breakthrough climb at the time—a quick, light ascent of one of the world's most difficult spires, without relying on any bolts. He returned for his fourth consecutive season to solo Fitz Roy's Supercouloir. The approach involved a dangerous icefall and glacier crossing. At one point an ice bridge he was crossing collapsed, but luckily only dropped six feet. After two attempts, he decided not to tempt fate by crossing a third time, but vowed to return to try again.
How many years has it been since your last trip to Patagonia?
My last trip was in 1978, so it's been over 20 years. I was here trying to solo the Supercouloir. I failed. It was difficult to accept, I was upset... I usually don't talk about this, but I vowed that I would never climb another mountain until I returned for another attempt of the Supercouloir. It was one of those brash statements you make in your youth. Little did I know that it would be over 20 years before I returned—I thought I would be back the next season. Over the next few years, I climbed in Peru and did some exploring in the northern Karakoram, but didn't summit anything on either trip. And by 1984, I basically stopped climbing altogether.
Why did you take a hiatus from climbing?
It just sort of faded away and ended with a whimper and not a bang, really. After Cerro Torre, I lost my steady partners, Jim Donini and Steve Wunsch. We just went our separate ways. If we had stayed together, they may have kept me going. Plus, my hands started hurting and I couldn't fully open my fingers. It was time to take a break. I had been climbing full time for many years and I was totally broke. I had to come to grips with making a living. I didn't want to be 60 and still living in my VW van.
About that time, my son Tony was born. I was really enjoying the time with my family. Of course, I'd hear about people doing new routes and think "I wanna do that." But I've been willing to put my ambitions aside for the people I love—some people aren't willing to do that. Tony has loved skiing since he was four, so he and I started skiing together. I also went on a ski trip to Europe that motivated me to become a good skier. I was very busy with my business repping for outdoor equipment companies. I played basketball, got into road racing on my bike, did a triathlon, but nothing ever took the place of climbing. I didn't have the time to do it well and so I didn't do it at all.
What brings you back to Patagonia after all these years?
In 1999, I was invited to a convention in Italy commemorating the 40th anniversary of Maestri's first ascent of Cerro Torre. It gave me a new perspective on what we had done in the '70s. The Italians still held our accomplishments in high regard. The convention reawakened my interest and ambition in climbing in Patagonia.
But the weather here is terrible, what draws you to Patagonia?
Most people can understand why climbers climb, but not everybody "gets" Patagonia. It gets in your blood. The lure of these mountains is strong. Although there is a low probability that you will climb them, it is worth the risk of trying. Patagonia isn't like other mountain ranges; it has a different rhythm. The weather dictates your life. You cannot plan against it. In many ways, the emotional challenge here is much more intense. But, you also have a lot of down time and I'm lazy [laughs].
So, is this a vacation?
No.
Then is it work?
Well, yes, I think it is, but not in the normal sense of the word. The term "work" has a different meaning to an artist, to a writer. So yes, I consider this my work, part of my life's work.
Are you coming back to climbing or is this trip a one-shot deal?
I'm not planning on making Patagonia a steady diet again, but I'm definitely coming back into climbing.
What initially drew you to climbing and later alpinism?
I was instantly captivated during my first outing. I was terrified of heights, but I knew climbing was something I wanted to do and do well. I got pretty obsessed with it. I loved being outside and it was really fun. I guess I could have had something to prove, too.
These days, you have to do more and more outrageous things to become famous. I don't read the magazines or try to follow it. Alpinism is what you make it. If you're really internally motivated, the publicity doesn't matter.
Are you internally motivated?
Yes, I think so. I always tried to be a purist. Climbing was about climbing, not writing about climbing. We never published anything about our Cerro Torre ascent. Maybe some of that was phony, I don't know. I think if you look back at your actions, you find that there is some external motivation in all of us. My wife Barbara is an artist and just as an artist wants people to see and appreciate their work, so do climbers. Alpinism isn't exactly socially relevant, but I guess by sharing it you make it something more than just your own climb.
What is your greatest Patagonia moment?
Our ascent of the west face of Cerro Torre was the climb of my life. We didn't know anything about the route, we went light, without a bunch of rope, and the climbing was incredible. That was one of those times when you just nail it, and everything goes right. It was a true adventure.
Will you pass the box of wine, John?
Sure.
—
Brady Robinson and Jimmy Chin, MountainZone.com Correspondents
