Our annual trip to the states in the fall of 2017 was preceded by a turbulent series of events in Myanmar that are still defying my best efforts to mentally sort into neat little boxes. At the core of our trip, KT and I were seeking rejuvenation. What we got is what we needed; desert vistas, big granite walls, long road trips, canyon ranches, hot tubs, fireplaces, and rocker/recliners, all with the best people.
In planning for our trip, I had decided that enough was enough, it was time to visit the cradle of climbing civilization. So I carved out some extra time to visit Yosemite, know as simply “The Valley” to the climbing community. Framily were psyched. David, met me in Sacramento and Beans and Ty were scheduled to meet us at Camp 4. We had no solid itinerary, except that we were vaguely planning on staying in Yosemite for a couple of days and then heading to Bishop and then maybe to Red Rocks.
The mythological Camp 4 in Yosemite Valley is perhaps one of the most famous places in all of climbing lore, but the rowdy and unruly campground of legend is now one of most authoritarian rule-oriented places in nature. It felt more like a library than a campsite; a very, very beautiful library.
David bouldering in Camp 4
Midnight Lightning in Camp 4
Beans using palms only on this ridiculously difficult V-easy sums up our Camp 4 bouldering experience.
Our Site in Camp 4
El Cap Sighting
There are a few incidents that David will never live down from Yosemite. The first was when David and I were first driving into the valley, he took the left side of the bus and I took the right side as we drove past the valley giants, both of us looking for our first sight of the iconic El Cap. We drove all the way to Yosemite lodge, and along the way spotted Half Dome on the right side, but no El Cap? Later we learned that we had driven right past it, towering just off of the left side of the road. To climbers, it’s the equivalent of wandering right past the Eiffel Tower. You’re not living it down David.
David climbing a thin 5.11 seam on the base of El Cap. It required a scary team lead effort to complete. We also climbed the chimney/crack to the right.
El Cap Meadows
Our first night in Yosemite we didn’t have a campsite, so we slept hidden behind a large mound of dirt outside of a hotel near The Valley. The next day we got in line during the early hours of the morning to reserve spots in Camp 4. Dirtbagging it next to a hotel was probably much more congruent with true Yosemite spirit than waiting for our campsite tags and the required food storage and campsite rules lecture, but we were happy to be closer to the walls.
David, never happier to have coffee than after sleeping in line for a spot in Camp 4.
We only had a few days in the Valley, so we were constantly talking over the pros and cons of trying different big climbs. We had the added challenge of figuring out how to get four people to the top of a wall with only a double standard trad rack. We ended up deciding to climb ‘Snake Dike,’ a line up the back of Half Dome that slabs out after 800 feet, leading to about 1000 feet of steep slab hiking to the summit. The upside of Snake Dike is that you get to cruise an ocean of stone to one of the most beautiful, iconic summits in America. Another key characteristic of Snake Dike is that it takes almost no gear, enabling us to split into two climbing teams and still have enough protection for each team. The downside was the round trip 14 miles of hiking involved and the 4800 feet of elevation gain/descent. We were wary, because none of us were confident in our ability to endure such an overall grueling day. Also, 5.7 R sounded a lot harder after getting spanked by V-easys in Camp 4. At the end of the day, we were in Yosemite, and everyone was down to have an adventure. We woke up at 4:00 the next morning.
We started the approach while it was still dark. By the light of my headlamp I looked down and saw David’s feet, clad only in a pair of leather flip flops.
“Dude, are you wearing flip flops?” All sets of eyes zeroed in on David’s footwear.
“Yeah, I’m good. I wear them all the time.”
“Okay, then.” I guess we’re doing this.
David and his flip flops (also repping Myanmar Rock Community)
Fueled by beets and eggplant, we were the first party to pull up to the base of the climb. We split into 2 climbing teams, Beans and Ty and Me and David. We picked out a direct line on the ambiguous first pitch. We learned later that the actual first pitch climbs an arching corner crack, but we opted for a direct slab with no real holds and no gear apart from a tree that we slung at 25 feet. After the tree was another 60 feet of terrifying friction slab with absolutely no holds. Any fall would have been a ground fall. For 50 feet of friction, I was just trying to control my breath and believe that my feet were not going to slip off of the sloping smears that I was delicately perched on. I’ve never over-gripped any hold like the first jug after that slab. We made it through pitch one, which also became the standard reference for scary climbing for our group; the mantra for the rest of the trip became, “it’s not as bad as pitch 1.” The rest of Snake Dike was amazing, fun, heady, and easy with almost no gear. One of the pitches was 200 feet long with only one bolt, which both Beans and I didn’t clip because we climbed far above it before we longingly saw it 15 feet below our climbing shoes.
I happen to know that your beard almost touches your eyes
Top of the technical climbing on Snake Dike
After the 800 feet of technical climbing, we hiked up the 1000 feet of calf-annihilating slabs to the summit, a granite football field observatory for the Sierra Mountains.
Drinking it in
Summit of Half Dome, El Cap in the background
We were already hungry at the summit of half dome, and we were already exhausted and out of food. The descent was long, hard, exhausting, and we ended up getting semi-lost a couple of times in the darkness during the descent. But we eventually made it.
The most impressive thing about the whole climb (and the whole trip) was that David hiked 14 miles, with 4800 feet of elevation gain and descent, with only his flip flops, for his first ever multi-pitch, and never complained once, beast (but seriously, never do that again).
Half Dome
Headlamps on El Cap at night
The next day we drove through the mountains to Bishop. I had particularly asked to drive the highway through the mountains, and I’m still surprised Beans let me. It was a bit nerve-wracking for all of us because it was the first time I had driven in a year, the second time I had ever driven stick, compounded by the narrow mountain roads and the fact that I was driving Beans’ huge Land Cruiser with the driver seat on the right side of the vehicle. Worth it.
Bishop spanked all of us. The highest grade any of us sent was V4, and none of us were even able to do ‘Iron Man Traverse’ (pictured above and below).
Peabody Boulders, for scale you can see David sitting at the base.
Ty climbed a highball and couldn’t get down without his climbing shoes; I pitched he caught.
After a day in Bishop, we headed to Red Rocks outside of Las Vegas. We dropped Ty at the airport so that he could go to a wedding. David, Beans, and I continued to Red Rocks. It was stunning, and we used what remained of our skin on a couple of days of bouldering and sport climbing, fueled by Beans’ ridiculous breakfast concoctions, and also eggplant (the meat of vegetables).
Beans cruising Under the Boardwalk 5.11a
David warming up on The Wave V3
David on-sighting his hair for the morning.
Beans also warming up on The Wave v3
After a few days, we were totally drained, but decided as one last challenge to go to the Kraft Boulders, and attempt to climb 30 easy boulders V3 or below. Beans added the spice, stipulating that we needed to do it in under 30 minutes. We pulled it off with literally seconds to spare. It was the perfect way to end the trip cruising line after line. After the challenge, we still kept climbing easy boulders until after it was dark. We spent one more night in the desert before a long awaited trip to a home I hadn’t been to in over a year.