A Letter to My Climbing Partner Dale Bard

October 1, 2025

Dear Dale,

Today, I saw something on my phone that shook me deeply. A young climber, livestreamed from below, fell to his death on your El Capitan route, Sea of Dreams. It was a tragedy so raw, I can hardly find the words to describe it. In that haunting moment, my mind turned to you, and I realized how long it’s been since our last climb together. I had hoped for one final ascent with you—one last shared adventure before time slips away.

So let’s do it ASAP, like in December or January—a perfect window for a winter ascent of El Capitan. I’ve already imagined our preparations and made a list of what we’ll need.

Food: I’ll take care of that. This time, I won’t let you handle it like in ’78 on Pacific Ocean Wall, when your food stash of a small can of tuna and two pineapple slices left me hungry every day. You always ate so little, your lean frame mapped out veins like trails. I still laugh thinking about Yabo [John Yablonski] lugging 10 pounds of raw potatoes on a different climb. How on earth did he expect to cook those on the wall?

Rack: I guess I’ll handle our rack, too. Your minimalist kit of stoppers and hexes never failed to impress me. Your onsight of Phoenix (5.13a) without a single cam still blows my mind. Back in ’77, [Ray] Jardine was the only climber who had the Friends. What a shame your modesty kept these incredible feats in the shadows. We all want to hear about them now.

Water: Please bring those indestructible gallon jugs, marked boldly “NOT FOR LOAN.” Everyone coveted those jugs, but no one dared ask, thanks to your clear warnings. How many climbs did those survive?

Experience: We both carry years on the rock now, but I always looked up to you. When I was an 18-year-old climber, you gave me a chance on one of Yosemite’s hardest walls. Seven years older, a Stonemaster and Yosemite legend already, you never knew how much that meant. You’ve touched many lives, always genuinely supporting the climbing journey, no matter who you climbed with. Even less experienced climbers who you never climbed with are impressed with your interest in and support for what they are doing.

Warm Clothing: A winter ascent means bundling up. Remember your epic 44-day winter trek across the Sierra Crest in 1976 when you tackled cross-country skiing with zero experience? “Unprepared,” they said, but that’s the Dale Bard magic—mastering everything you touched. I always thought you were Superman. I want you to share more stories from that trip.

Ice Climbing: Speaking of cold, your first free ascent of Polar Circus with Jack Roberts in ’79 still sets a standard for today’s ice climbers. Bring that skill.

Speed Climbing: I want us to climb fast enough so we don’t freeze on the wall. Please bring your speed climbing skills. You always climb in overdrive. I was amazed by your four-day El Cap marathon in ‘76: West Face with Largo [John Long] (five hours onsight!), Salathé Wall (fixed to Heart Ledge) with [Ron] Kauk, a rest day, then the Nose (nine hours leading every pitch)—all before speed climbing was even a thing.

[Tony] Yaniro, only 15 years old at the time and with a legendary physique, jumared so fast in support of your Nose ascent that you could actually afford to slow down with a lunch break near the top. Only Yaniro knew this story you told him, but out of respect for friends who had just completed a one-day ascent, you didn’t want to appear as if you were “running up the score.” Still, you completed it in nine hours, setting a speed climbing standard well ahead of its time.

Route-finding: That’s your domain. Your pioneering ascents of Bushido, Sunkist, New Jersey Turnpike, Iron Hawk, and of course Sea of Dreams, plus your early attempts to free climb The Nose, prove your route-finding skills. So I’ll ask you to figure out the line we will take.

El Capitan Guarantee: You’ve climbed El Cap 120 times! Are you kidding me? By your calculations, you have spent nearly two years on that monolith. So, if I’m tying into the rope with Dale Bard, we are getting to the top. Period.

Bouldering Crux: If there’s a bouldering crux, that’s definitely your department. You’re an old school boulderer who didn’t use crashpads. You began bouldering long before it became its own sport. Your 1981 first ascent of High Plains Drifter (V7/8) on Grandma Peabody defined highball mastery before the world had a name for it.

Chalk Bags: Don’t forget to bring those oversized chalk bags—those legendary fabric buckets that chalked your Popeye forearms to your elbows. Let’s bring that style back.

Stoke: Bring your trademark stoke—that unstoppable energy that made every climb feel like an all‑time adventure. No surprise, your favorite word was “bitchin’.” It summed you up perfectly.

Authenticity: I look at the way you’ve lived your life, and in so many ways, you embody what our climbing community has lost. Your freedom, independence, open-mindedness, and refusal to conform defined an era—a spirit that ran through our early years. You had authenticity before anyone even started reaching for it.

Back in the `70s, we didn’t have followers. That’s not to say we were all leaders, but none of us followed. Big wall climbing captures that same essence. You bring everything you need to protect yourself, to survive. Somehow, in that simplicity, you thrive. I’m getting seriously psyched for this climb as I check off the last things on my list.

Ropes: But this reminds me of Balin Miller, who died today on El Capitan while rope soloing. The livestream showed him rappelling down to free a stuck haul bag, his rope rigged too short, no knot at the end. Watching him fall off the end, grasping in vain for the haul line, was heartbreaking. You taught me the importance of tying knots, but also the dangers of windy conditions, with knots at the end getting stuck. I wonder what Balin was thinking; we’ll never know.

Dale, I just got a call from Jared Ogden—your best friend (and ultimately your caregiver), who was by your side for the last 30 years. There will be no climb for us. You passed the same day as Balin, and just short of your 72nd birthday. Forget this list. You’ve given me one last lesson: to pick up the phone and call more. I’m so sorry, my friend.

Rest in peace.

Randy Leavitt

Randy Leavitt has been a climbing pioneer from the early Stonemaster days (mid-1970s), and he bolted America’s first 5.15b (Jumbo Love at Clark Mountain). His ascent of Pacific Ocean Wall with Dale Bard in 1978 inspired him to become the first person to climb the face of El Capitan, then parachute (BASE jump) off the top as a means of descent in 1980.

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