The High Sierra - Clyde Minaret

(whatever the classic route is)
(4th in a series of posts about my 2012 trip to the High Sierra)

We hiked the 8 or so miles into the campsite the evening before (mostly in the dark) the climbed and hiked out the following day.

Neale insisted on doing the 10a direct start, which proved to be very high quality.

The climbing was steep and good, with some loose rock.

There is a tradition of, particularly when it comes to route finding, me being right and Neale being wrong. That tradition appeared to be ending after a series of debates ended with Neale being right.  I thought that moving out right into the dihedral I'm entering in this photo would be the correct choice.  For once, I was right, and so this photo makes me smile.

I thought this seemed hard for 5.8.  Neale thought I seemed like a pussy.

Neale gets us onto the summit ridge.

I started leading the summit ridge.

The climbing on the summit ridge was about as good as it gets - very steep, very exposed, and really easy.  This is on, or very near, the summit.

And so, victory in hand, it became time to pose.

A forest fire was started in our honour.

The sun eclipsed Neale's moment.

Clyde Minaret.

Back at the lake, getting ready to bust the hike out in record time in order to catch the bus out of the park.

The High Sierra - The Incredible Hulk

The Red Dihedral

(3rd in a series of posts about my 2012 trip to the High Sierra)

And so we busted a move up to the Sawtooths, a tiny little subrange of peaks (no, not those sawtooths)

We didn't climb any of those, but we climbed one behind.

The cheeseburgers were looking at us.

The sun was so pretty driving in, I just kept taking pictures.

We camped in the weird campground at the trailhead to the Incredible Hulk.  Its a really weird campground.  In the morning on the way to the Hulk I got legitimately very (very) lost wandering around the campground in the predawn darkness looking for the shitters.  In the end, I never found them, but when I finally found my way back to the campsite, Neale was pissed.

We did almost the entire hike in in the dark.  This is in the morning near the base of the peak.

Neale got serious about starting the climb.

I was wearing shorts, but that was dumb, because it was really cold.

The famous Red Dihedral pitch.  Neale did something really unusual on this pitch, which was struggle.

I thought it was pretty hard, too.

After that, the climbing got fun and cruisy.

In this photo there are two women (look closely) that we said hi to during the approach.  They were so unfriendly that I thought for sure they must be bigshot awesome climbers.  I tried to give them a second chance by hollering enthusiastic nonsense across the wall, but they ignored me.  I think this portion of the wall holds mostly easier climbs, and they were still on this route after we had nearly finished the descent, and lost sight of them.  So, in addition to being lame people, I believe they were also lame climbers.  

Not to be deterred, Neale insisted on sending that shit.  His goal is that splitter on the wall above.

I parked myself on a beautiful, comfy belay ledge, finally warm in the sun.

The route finishes with this awful squeeze through this horrible hole.  Any smaller, and I wouldn't have fit.

Its a round peg through a square hole, but it had to go, so I forced it.

SUCCESS!

hulky.

The descent is really lame.  Very big, very loose blocks.  Ankle danger was extreme.

Me, looking around for how to downclimb this surprisingly challenging looking step.

Then Neale figured out the secret - there was a passage under the boulder.

Long, loose, and lame.

Striking, isn't he?

Walking back to the campground.

The High Sierra - Tuolumne Meadows - Mathes' Crest

(2nd in a series of posts about my 2012 trip to the High Sierra)

We finally got good at starting early. 

If you were god, and you were making a lake, you'd make Budd Lake.  Would't ya?

How much more fucking idyllic can you get, seriously.

Mathes' Crest, in all its glory.  We did it the usual way, South to North, which in this photo is right to left.  Its about a mile.

What's not obvious in this photo is that I am heroically running it out up a steep and exposed fin of rock.  What is obvious is that I have a big ass.

The posing options were exceptional.

A soloist that caught up to us at the end.  Supertopo says to bail at the halfway mark, but this is nonsense.  The section of climbing that this guy has just completed, the Rock Wave, is fucking phenomenal, and you'd miss it if you do as Supertopo says.

I should admit to something.  In spite of my usual bravado about sending and crushing, this first week in the Sierras was getting the best of me.  The whole area is above 8000 feet, and a lot of the summits are 9 to 12 thousand.  I don't do well with altitude, and I was struggling on the approaches, often feeling weak and slow, and occasionally stopping just a few minutes into my predawn hike to puke.  I tended to feel more worn out halfway through the day than it seemed like I should, and often wanted to end the days early.  Usually Neale and I destroy Supertopo's approach times, but there were a couple of times where we were even slower than the slow-end range (which was my fault).  It wasn't until about halfway into the trip that we began to demolish guidebook approach times in fine style.  The altitude made no noticeable difference to the climbing, since most of the climbing we did was pretty easy and rock climbing is not particularly aerobic, but the hiking was brutal.

All that said, on this particular day we planned to do Mathes' Crest and Cathedral Peak.  Normally, I think, this would be a very reasonable goal, but hiking out of Mathes', I wasn't into it.

Cathedral Peak