Hike09: Half Dome (Part 1)

4AM is early.  Even when you know you need to get up, it's early.  Even when you're excited for the day ahead, it's early.  Damn early.  Bleary-eyed doesn't quite grasp the visual of the two of us stumbling around a dark, unfamiliar cabin at that hour.  Yet we still managed to get our pre-packed gear into the car.

No McMuffin stop would be available this morning, so we made our own breakfast sandwiches the prior night--easy to heat quickly right before running out the door.  An hour after rising we were in the car driving to the trailhead about 40 minutes down a curvy mountain park road that at times (thanks to construction) became gravel.   As we reached the trailhead parking, our first moment of concern hit us.  The roadblocked lot was full--ALREADY!--at quarter to 6AM.  We U-turned and found a spot along a road half a mile away. With this minor glitch, we'd already extended our journey by a mile before taking a single step.

We left the car and started our bonus road hike to the trailhead (Elevation 4093).  There were plenty of people out and about.  Judging by the sizes (or lack) of packs, some were clearly embarking on much longer treks with others just on a morning stroll.  We found the Happy Isles trailhead and stopped for a bathroom break and confirmed to each other a plan that had been decided a few days earlier.

Liz wasn't going to summit today.  A couple nights earlier she re-stressed the ever-troubling hip in Mammoth.  It sucked.  The disappointment was overbearing but after a long conversation, we couldn't talk ourselves into making it a realistic option. So the plan was Liz would hike to the top of Nevada Fall and hang out there and in Little Yosemite Valley while I continued on the second half of the hike.  We knew her part of the trek would be no walk in the park...it's quite the climb itself so getting there would still be an accomplishment--but resting for a few hours would give her hip time to relax without stressing it into any danger zone.   She brought a journal and a book to pass the time--not that the views and nature couldn't cut it alone.  Did I say a "few" hours?  Heh...well, more on that later.

Off we went, up the trail--or path at this point as the first mile is paved.  Paved might sound nice in theory but I'd almost rather walk up steep dirt over steep pavement.  You can dig into dirt and earth with each step.  (I didn't say loose talus--that stuff blows.)   Apparently it was paved for access well before I was born, although pushing someone in a wheelchair up this hill would be a nightmare. 


The sheer glacier carved cliffs around us looked gorgeous at this hour with long shadows and a very early morning yellow hue painting the walls.  Didn't see many animals but heard a symphony of various birds making sure the world knew they were awake.

We climbed along the edge of the Merced river for a mile that felt like two until a break point came at a bridge (elevation 4464) down river from 350 ft Vernal Fall.   A great place for a breather, this bridge is probably the stopping point for a good number of people exploring this corner of Yosemite valley.  




At this hour though, no one around us seemed to be up for such a short trip.  (From experience with my parents when they visit, I'm sure a few east coast early birds who hadn't adjusted to the time difference were in the mix too.  "It's 9AM, my time!")  

Across the bridge is the last potable water on the trail.  I refilled my water bottle--14 miles of hiking remained between now and when we'd reach the water again.  We--of course--used the bathroom and started up the Mist Trail.  The pavement ended and before we knew what was happening we were walking up a trail of constructed steps along the edge of a granite cliff with a raging river below and a massive waterfall ahead.

A little side bar---we originally planned to hike a day earlier on our first full day in the park, but Yosemite valley was a scorching 98!!!! degrees.  Zoinks, that's hot (and it felt it.)  So we spent the day checking out sites that didn't require strenuous effort and had a few afternoon drinks at the Ahwahnee hotel bar.  It wasn't supposed to be quite as hot today, but 90 or a bit more wasn't out of the question.  The higher country where we'd be mid-day is about 10 degrees cooler, so a bit more manageable.  This day started out cool.  As we started this section of the trail around 7AM it couldn't have been more than 65 degrees with a crisp breeze helping to make it feel even cooler than that.  They call it the Mist Trail for a reason as we very quickly discovered.

Before you have a chance to see the fall up close, you hear the roar and shortly after that the moisture starts to dance on your skin.  We took a moment to secure and seal our bags (including cameras--sorry for the lack of images on this section).  We had a few cheap ponchos with us but decided not to bother.  I thought it'd be a better plan to store my long sleeve in the bag and let my t-shirt (not cotton, thank god) get wet.  How wet could we get?

It should be called the monsoon trail.  After rounding a corner near the base of the falls the onslaught of drenching begins.  The rock steps are soaked.  Pools of water are everywhere.  We. Got. Wet.

At a halfway point, a little rock outcrop provides a bit of shelter.  We were both shivering worse than an alleycat in a hurricane.  On we forged through the second half and, as if turned off by magic, the waterfall rain comes to an abrupt end.  After a hundred or so mercifully bone-dry steps, we reached the top of Vernal Fall (Elevation 5062). Glorious.

Looking back down on the mist trail...

We took a short snack and camera break and plowed ahead. Still climbing, the grade wasn't too severe...calm before the storm of sorts.  By the time we got to the Silver Apron Bridge (elevation 5204) to carry us back over the Merced below Nevada Fall, we had completely dried off thanks to the rising and warming sun.  It wasn't yet what I'd call hot, but the sun--now rising above the ridges--was strong.  I put on my lightweight long sleeve for cover and protection.  (Today was the first time I'd worn long sleeves on a hot weather hike). Liz already had hers on.

As we got closer to Nevada Fall a bit of mist filled the air, but now being on the opposite side of the river, it was just a minor cooling vs the drenching earlier. After a short section we were out of the wet breeze--but caught an impressive double rainbow in the mist cloud.  This guy would have loved it.  

The next section carried us up a steep stretch of granite switchbacking steps up the cliff's edge next to Nevada Fall.  There was a lot of stop-and-go up this breathless section until we eventually huffed over the final ledge up to level ground.   A short 1/4 mile detour took us over to a fantastic view from the top of Nevada Fall and then we headed back to the trail to continue on to Little Yosemite Valley where there's a campground and plenty of open space.  

The campground was about a mile up the trail and the elevation gain isn't too severe.  Unfortunately the gain was condensed over the first 1/4 mile...so Liz's hip pain and exhaustion started to catch up. She told me to go on knowing that I needed to keep a good pace.  We kissed goodbye and off I went--expecting to see her again in a few hours.   (A few....riiiiiight.)

Approaching Little Yosemite Valley (elevation 6095), I passed a mule pack going the other direction.  I stepped aside as 10-15 mules with three riders passed me with a dusty wake.  I always wondered how they transported supplies up to the remote ranger stations and campgrounds.  And there was the answer, marching right by.  I stopped at the last bathroom on the trail.  The ranger was unloading toilet paper that I assumed were just delivered by the mule pack.  I'd never seen so much TP at a toilet.  Inside there must have been 25 rolls with another several dozen stowed in a riser up above.  And I was in only one room of this big four-seat composting commode.  Guess those deliveries don't come daily.

Back to the trail I went and just as I was about to begin the last 3.5 steep miles to half dome--lo-and-behold--there was Liz, approaching the campground behind a few slow hikers.  I smiled.  The chance for an additional goodbye was nice.  We kissed again.  "See you in a few hours for real this time," I said.  "Be safe and careful," she replied.  I nodded. "A few hours. If I'm not here, I'll be at the top of Nevada Fall."  And with that I was off.  I checked my phone....no signal.  She better be there when I get back. Doesn't look like I'll be able to call...or text...or anything.  The clock on my phone said 10AM.  Few hours?  We threw around 1PM as a possibility.  I said let's plan on 2.   


I wouldn't see Liz again for over six hours.  Did I just ruin the cliffhanger?   Or did I just tease the intensity that remains? 

Hiked so far...almost 6 miles up 2,000 feet.
Left til the summit....almost 3 miles and another 2,800 feet.
And then the fun hike down.

To be continued....

HIKE08: Ontario Peak

Liz did it. She bought trekking poles.Kind of funny watching her practice with them around our living room. With some MacGyver velcro action, we found a way to attach the collapsed poles to her pack.

Packed up the night before and set the alarm for 5AM!!.  Yikes. Yeah, that early.  It's good practice for our planned departure for Yosemite.

So there we were, back at Ice House Canyon.  Ready to tackle Ontario Peak.  While not as high as Baldy and a bit more gradual, the hike to the top would carry us up nearly the same elevation for a total hike over 13 miles.

We were on the trail by 730. That extra hour or two makes a huge difference in the weather, the crowd, nature.  Very nice overall.    Our trek up to the saddle was uneventful save for the fact that Liz was moving at warp speed compared to other trips sans poles.  The flow in the creek was a less than we'd last seen, but the wildflower count along the trail had increased with bright pinks, yellows, reds and whites.

 Things were going really well we were maybe a mile into new territory. My knee started to bug me and Liz's hip began acting up yet again.  We took a breather at Kelly Camp for the sake of her hip, it might be best for Liz not to push through the last 1000 feet of trail.  She hung out and I made a quick run for the summit. The decision was certainly sound as the last bit carried up a very steep hill without much shade.

Loved the view.  Ontario is on the edge of the range so you get a better view down into the vast mass of civilization than you do from Baldy.  I'd still trade it for the panaramics of Baldy any day.  I could see it staring back at me from across a few canyons.

I looked at my phone and had a cell phone signal for the first time since we started walking.  I called my parents' house to wish dad and grandpa a happy father's day before turning back. 

It had been about 50 minutes since I left Liz so I started to run down the mountain.  This wasn't hard and the switchbacks weren't over dangerous cliffs so I felt confident on my ability.  At the top of the last stretch before where she was waiting I shouted her name to say I was coming.  She said she yelled back but I didn't hear her.  I stumbled back into her only 25 minutes after I left the summit.  And my knee---it was killing me!  Don't run down a steep hill with a sore knee, kids.

Liz was in great spirits...just on the cusp of wondering when I'd return.  She led the way 6 miles back to the car.  It took us less than 90 minutes.  Did I mention she moves fast with those poles?

On the way down, we spotted this...what's the word? hive? nest? not sure....well, we saw A LOT of ladybugs.

So overall a good day. We both arrived home happy after another successful hike.

Unfortunate news came two days later.   Liz woke up monday unable to even move her leg on the side of the sore hip.  She visited the doctor on Tuesday. An x-ray fortunately confirmed that there was no crack or fracture, but the doctor wasn't satisfied and recommended against a big hike in a week. Well, shit.

HIKE07: Mt. San Antonio (Old Baldy)

(Hike date:  June 13, 2010)

Four weeks.

That's a long time without practice when you're training for something big....at least big for a couple schlubs who could be in better shape.

First, we had a busy weekend.  We talked of doing a shorter local hike, but it simply wasn't in the cards.  So be it.  The following week we did split family time. I was in Baltimore and Liz had mom in town in LA. And then there was a little illness and Liz's birthday to contend with.

Two options...ease back in or go big.  Only two more weeks until Yosemite.  Easing back might not cut it.  Big it be!

The first thought was a hike up Mount Baden-Powell. It offered a challenging--but not TOO challenging-- 9-mile hike in an area of the Angeles NF we'd never visited.  After investigation we learned that the most direct driving route to the trailhead was still closed from damage and rock slides after last year's Station Fire. That would mean a 2 1/2 hour drive each way.  Pass.

With that we looked back to the Baldy area (again, I know).  We didn't really want to explore from Ice House Canyon again after starting there for the last two hikes.  So....um....go....big?

Big means Mount San Antonio.  Or as almost everyone commonly refers to it--Mount Baldy or Old Baldy.

A few fun facts for this adventure...

• The summit of Old Baldy breaks through the clouds at 10,068 feet.   This beats our previous high water mark to the top of Timber Mountain by almost 1700 feet.  But more impressively...the highest ground either of us ever previously set foot on in our lives was the top of Haleakala in Hawaii at 10,023 feet--and we didn't hike up that one.
• Old Baldy is the third highest summit in Southern California.  Topped only by  Mount San Jacinto near Palm Springs at 10,834 feet and Mount San Gorgonio near San Bernardino at 11,499 feet.  Future peaks to bag!
• Our hike carried us up nearly 4,000 feet of elevation...exceeding our previous gain by nearly 1000 feet.
• The top of Half Dome is "only" 8,800 feet.

So...

On the day before, Liz made the genius decision to purchase a light long sleeve shirt designed for sun protection as well as one of those "buff" things popularized by Survivor a billion years ago.  Best decision ever as sun wasn't at all a factor this trip.  (Good thing because everything else would be!)  Not sure why we didn't go the extra protection from hike one.  Better now than never.

We followed our normal routine and set out all our gear and clothing the night before. Set the alarm for 630AM and made it out the door by around 7. With the stop for fast food breakfast and a prehike bathroom break, we were passing the trailhead a bit after 9. The hills were filled with hundreds of Our Lord's Candle in full bloom.













The trail begins up a moderately steep road to San Antonio Falls.  The falls had a decent 60-foot drop but the flow wasn't all that impressive. I imagine it'll be dry in a few weeks.

We followed the road a bit more until the trail forked up a steep hill with no sign or marker.  If a few guys ahead of us didn't take this route, we may have missed it.  (A few feet up the trail they asked us if this path was the correct route--little did they know. "Of Course!" we answered with faux authority.)

I signed our name in a register at the start of the real trail.  How long it takes authorities to check this register if someone goes missing?  Would my scribbled name be printed in the LA Times?  With that macabre thought, we started up the trail....and UP was all we would be doing for the next 4 miles to the summit. The climb would be almost 1,000 buttkicking feet/mile.

We weren't very far when the first sign of trouble arrived--Liz started complaining about pain in her hip. This same hip that gave her problems on our Timber Mountain hike nearly a month earlier.  Uh oh. We had a LONG way to go. We chatted about options. She could continue, we could both go back,  or she could go back to the car and take a chairlift to meet me halfway back down the mountain 8 miles from here. Giving up wouldn't bode well for our future plan, so Liz decided to fight through it and we kept going...although very slowly with many stops.  We decided it didn't matter how long it took as long as we made it the whole way.

I spotted a small green building waaaaaaaaay up the hill. (this pic was zoomed a bit)

That building marked the half way point in distance and elevation to the summit--an old Sierra Club Ski Hut used as a refuge for backcountry skiiers and climbers in the winter. With Liz's injury, it took us over 2 hours to get there. It was a stretch up switchbacks through several distinct climate zones--gorgeous scenery the entire way.

As we arrived at the Ski Hut all the many hikers who passed us going up were chilling out, stretching out, and taking a well deserved breather. We found a spot in the shade and did the same. After a snack and outhouse visit, it was decision time.

Continue or go back?  We decided to struggle through the second half--expecting it to be much of the same.  The summit towered above us at the top of the extremely steep, crescent-shaped Baldy Bowl but the trail leading away from the ski hut looked like an easy stroll that avoided the steep climb. We imagined, no, *hoped* it just followed a longer route that slowly worked up to the top.   We were wrong.

The trail deceptively continued along an almost leisurely route with an easy scramble through a boulder field.  Liz declared here that she could definitely handle it and wasn't giving up, pain or not...until we started going up--VERY up--with very little switchbacking for relief.  One trail guidebook referred to it as the hiking version of San Francisco's Lombard Street.  The author wasn't far off.  And it came in three stages--with each stage hiding the increasingly difficult stages that follow.  We survived the first heavily wooded section and took a break on a small oasis of flat. From this perspective we saw the steep loose gravel ahead.

As the pain level reached a new level of intensity for Liz, she set short goals for herself---"I'll go to that bush or this tree." Then another break followed. Then a few more feet and another break.  But we kept going up. And up. And up.

Yes, it really was this steep...

This primitive footing made for more difficult travel for those going down. We saw a few people slip and fall. Over half the other hikers had those damn poles--something Liz may need to invest in for the sake of her hip.

The final stretch was damn intense haul up a final very steep section surrounded by patches of lingering June snow.

As we stopped for one of our frequent breaks, a guy with a huge backpack passed us and cheerfully said he's pouring beer at the summit in 30 minutes--encouraging us not to miss out.  90 minutes later--after many tears, declarations of defeat, and a little bit of frustrated anger--we summited Mount San Antonio. (Unfortunately our beer-hauling friend was leaving JUST as we arrived.)

SUCCESS!  I turned to Liz and she smiled for the first time in an hour.  All the pain and frustration from her body disappeared with triumph.

Around 30 people were hanging out, chatting, eating a late lunch and resting on the broad wide summit. Everyone up there couldn't have been more friendly. One guy offered to fill our water bottles for the walk back (we came prepared--so I politely declined). Not exactly sure why he hauled a heavy 2 gallon water jug up the hill.

The 360 degree views were stunning. Strolling around the summit you can see deep into the Mojave on one side, into the Central Valley on another and back to LA from yet another.  A bit off to the east and southeast we could see the only two higher points in southern California.

For a couple moments the winds picked up to a strong, chilly, invigorating gale.  Piles of rock gave shelter to those staying longer (or even overnight).

It was getting late so we hung out for only about 25 minutes before heading back down the Devil's Backbone trail on a different side of the summit.  While a challenge on our knees, it was nice to be going down and much like our last hike, Liz's hip issues were less of a factor on the descent. She passed on the "you're almost there" encouragement we were given earlier to a few hikers struggling on their final steps up.

After the first section, our trip down leveled out along the ridge line for a mile or two.  With solid ground beneath our feet, our pace picked up greatly.  Along this stretch I spotted this fantastic tree...

Eventually we found ourselves on the namesake section of the trail--a pointed ridge with very steep hills down on both sides.  Fortunately, the trail itself was nearly flat so it never felt dangerous despite the steep drops.  This little lizard was about the billionth of its kind I spotted on this hike--only one to pose for me.

The end of a chairlift was a sign that we were getting closer and we followed a ski trail back to the lodge at Baldy notch. This plan worked perfectly well at first but the last section of trail was just a steep wide swath of gravel with no switchbacking foot path to be found anywhere.  This took forever.  We watched a few hikers ahead of us slip down the hill.  Only after did we realize there was a longer, far-less-steep fire road option.  Oh well.

We took a break for a snack at the Baldy Notch lodge.  It was nearly closing time and the sun was getting low.  Decision time yet again on this Choose-Your-Own-Adventure hike....walk 3 miles down a boring fire road to our car....or take a chairlift down and walk another 1/2 mile.  As it was 5PM on a Sunday and we had an hour drive and work the next day, we opted for the chairlift.  Cheating?  Maybe.  But we walked up and halfway back down by our own power so I don't feel bad about it.  (That said, the $10 each for the three-minute one-way ride is highway robbery.)

After a short skip to the car we were done.  Our long day filled with struggle and triumph came to a close.

Now about Liz's hip...and what's that?...is my knee getting sore?

Two weeks to go...