Until you are literally in the shaft there is no indication that it even exists. Putting out my hand to lean against solid granite - I nearly fell face first as I stumbled into the shaft. After recovering my dignity and waiting for David to quit laughing, I noticed a strange sensation of something like static electricity, or like raw energy being held at bay, but just barely. The shaft was approximately seven feet across and appeared to go up at a slight angle. The sides of the shaft were much smoother than I had expected. They appeared glass-like as far as I could see - which was maybe fifteen or twenty feet up. The sides of the shaft were more colorful than the granite outside. As David explained to me what to expect next ,I paid close attention and even took notes, since I was now taking him much more seriously,. His explanation did not prepare me for what was to happen next.

David explained to me that the lift worked at the whim of nature, not on a set schedule. It depends upon the winds at the top of El Capitan and the air pressure and weather at the valley floor. David believes, as I do now, that when the winds blew across the mouth of the shaft at the top of El Cap and the conditions at the valley floor were perfect, a powerful vacuum was created in the tube causing whatever was in the tube, or even close to it, to be drawn to the top... quickly, very quickly. So I sat down in the tube to wait, while David sat behind a nearby boulder to record and witness my trip, if one took place. It did.

After approximately twenty or so minutes of waiting I could barely discern a deep basso profundo resonance that could be felt more than heard. As I started to mention the sound to David I was suddenly moving up the tube and rapidly gaining velocity. The thought went through my mind that this must be what it felt like to be a bullet. As I gained speed I glanced off of the sides of the shaft and was thankful that it was so smooth. I still gained a few new bruises and scrapes by the end of my journey. The ride lasted, as David had told me, about a minute, maybe a little more. This meant that I had to average over thirty miles an hour to make the 3000 foot climb that fast!

As I got close to the top I noticed small passages going off to the side - which went past me in a blur, and as I slowed down I passed more of them. I don't know if they caused the slowing or not, but near the top I slowed to the speed of about a fast walk. It was fortunate for me that I did slow down, because I was literally spit out on to the hard granite at the top of El Capitan. My arrival was, I'm afraid, not very dignified. I lost my footing and slid on my knees into a boulder the size of a small refrigerator. No serious damage was done, but thank goodness no one was there to witness my moronic look. With my mouth hanging open, I tried to get my breath, collect my wits, and assure myself that I was where I thought I was.

Now I came to appreciate that the trick with this lift is that it is one-way only, and you have to hike, or take the old elevator to get down from the top. I opted to take the elevator down, although later I would have to hike, but that's another article. But for you that are not familiar with the old elevator I'll give you a short history.

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