The sunset view at the top was stunning. What was less clear was just what Caldwell and Jorgeson had achieved.

El Capitan is hardly unassailable. Its face was first rock-climbed in 1958, and it has been crisscrossed by countless climbers using roughly 100 known routes. With its summit a mere 7,569 feet above sea level, it is no Everest or McKinley. Thousands of visitors from around the world hike the eight steep miles to its top each year, including several who left before daybreak Wednesday to greet the climbers.

But that was part of what made this expedition monumental — El Capitan’s familiarity. It is one of the best-known pieces of granite in the world, majestic and monolithic, causing crane-necked, open-mouthed gawkers to stand at its base and drivers in Yosemite Valley to veer off the road.

That accessibility was key to building fascination with the quest.

“I think the larger audience’s conception is that we’re thrill seekers out there for an adrenaline rush,” Caldwell said. “We really aren’t at all. It’s about spending our lives in these beautiful places and forming these incredible bonds.”