My main Fisher Tower climbing partner in the 1980s was Bill Roberts. He had an exuberant self-confidence balanced by an endearing ability to find humor anywhere and everywhere, his own antics included. He had a strong stubborn streak—as did I—and enjoyed absurd but intense endeavors. We bonded over the gritty offwidths, muddy curtains, and uncertain routefinding of aid clinbing in the the Fisher Towers. We'd already been up the Titan, Cottontail, and Echo, so naturally Kingfisher had to be next. And, almost unspoken, was that there was to be no Colorado Northeast Ridge nonsense for us: We would do Jagged Edge, a Jim Beyer A4 that follows Kingfisher's hatchet-blade prow that looms over the parking lot. We were psyched but wary: this would be a challenge.

In the event, for me, everything about the experience was positive. I got to lead a Beyer A4 pitch, woohoo! This was also the first time I used John Middendorf's new invention, the Birdbeak. I brought two along, used them both. It was obvious that they were far, far superior to Rurps, the existing option for tiny seams. Whether I appreciated it at the time, this invention was to open up new route possibilities in the Fisher Towers and far beyond. On top of this, while we were up on Kingfisher, we watched a team approach, gallop up, and rappel Ancient Arts. Four pitches in a couple hours, while we, toiling on our aid climb, had barely moved! Free climbing looked so much fun! What else might go free on Cutler sandstone? This was an exciting time. Horizons were opening up.

At least they were for me. Not so much for Bill.

Bill had been diagnosed with brain cancer three years earlier and his horizons were just about to start closing in. There were occasional seizures. For Jagged Edge, we decided that if he passed out, we would just deal with it as best we could (luckily he did not have any seizures on the climb, none that I noticed anyway). Other things were not so easily brushed off. We climbed in late May/early June. Previously, heat had been just another desert inconvenience but this time Bill visibly suffered, especially leading the A3+ third pitch, baking in full sun, where he pleaded with the gear placements and cursed mightily at the rock and tore himself up with fear and anger and I was frightened for him while belaying. But, to his credit, somewhere in the back of his damaged brain he knew what to do and he kept moving upwards.

After another pitch, the A4 pitch, which was my lead, we were both fried from the hard work and the heat. We fixed ropes and left for home and returned, revitalized, a couple weeks later. This time we made sure to start super early to beat the heat. After one more steep pitch we reached the Moenkopi caprock where the climbing became easier and the route began to meander from ledge to ledge before burrowing through the summit and finishing on the east face. Stepping onto the summit was a sweet, sweet moment for both of us.

For me this climb had been a pointer to what was possible, an invitation to push myself a bit harder and find yet wilder summits and adventures; for Bill, Jagged Edge had taken him all the way to his own edge. This was the last Fisher Tower summit he would reach and he probably knew it. But he'd reached it the hard way, under his own steam, swapping leads the whole way. This climb had been a team endeavor, the summit one that both of us would treasure. What more could anyone ask for.