Somehow Yossi and I seem to have gotten ourselves a reputation for epics, though in truth we've never spent more time on a climb than expected nor found ourselves in a situation with which we couldn't deal. Nonetheless, we'd heard enough about people epicing on this route up the southwest side of Half Dome to seek to exonerate ourselves by making this climb as nice and uneventful as possible.
From what we knew the climb itself was quite straightforward, but that the approach, and especially finding the climb, was strenuous and non-intuitive. Concerned with losing valuable time and energy in this way, we gathered much (often conflicting) beta from friends, so much so that we were if anything over-prepped; whereas it took others as much as six hours to find the base, we took three. (Well, plus another hour to talk with another pair of climbers, debate route options and who should go first, prep for the climb, etc.)
We got up at three, and by four twenty we left the trailhead through the mist and twilight toward Little Yosemite valley. Just past Vernal Falls we broke off the trail for an impressive notch--Liberty Cap shooting up over a thousand feet to the south, and Mt. Broderick rising almost as far to the north. After alternatly scratching ourselves on the trunks and branches we were climbing, and soaking ourselves as we made our way through the mossy creek bed, we gained the notch proper to find a most lovely and intimate meadow, only perhaps fifty meters wide, a creek running along the north side, snow still along the south, and ahead a row of silloetted pines punctuating the approaching sun.
Just past the gap we found Lost Lake and caught up with a rather well trodden trail out past some *very* enticing camp sites toward the Diving Board, an overhang just just south of the Half Done massive which allows one a full view of the entire face and all of Tenaya Canyon splayed out beneath it. We broke off that trail not long after finding it, heading up the third class slabs skirting Half Dome proper. Even early in the season there was a rather obvious line to follow, and at each fork the choice was trivial; we soon gained the bulge and three pines which marked the base of the climb.
It was about this time that we were met by Greg and Kurt, from Los Angeles and Sacramento, respectively, who had camped the previous night by Lost Lake. I've read a fair bit about this Snake Dike route; being the easiest technical route up the dome it sees a lot of climbers, and a lot of climbers not terribly interested in ethics or etiquette. After all the horror stories I've heard it was quite a relief that Kurt and Greg, the first "other climbers" I've met on a route, and the only folks we saw aside from a soloist who came, passed and soon fell out of sight, should be just great guys, personable and helpful and considerate. Just another wonderful experience in a day full of so many.
The four of us bantered and debated about where the actual base and route were, and eventually, around nine I think, we were ready to lead up the first pitch. About fifty feet up a flake, then some friction to a crack under a roof. Then, in my opinion, some very delicate friction traversing under the roof, and up and right to the first bolt set. Rope drag was a little much, so I headed up the lower sections unbelayed, and having reached a small ledge, Yossi's lead resumed to the bolts. I accordingly headed up the remainder of the pitch, finding myself more than a little spooked at the roof traverse. It was rated only 5.7, but I guess my slab technique isn't so hot, and to give myself just a little credit it was the first time I'd been on a rope since my lead fall in the Owen's Gorge. Whatever the reason, I was feeling scared and pumped and my confidence was nil, even though, as Yossi kept telling me, my God I'm on top rope.
Well, from there everything was up. As far as I was concerned there was a little dicey traverse as the route headed right above the roof (Yossi fo curse was considering changing to his tennis shoes on the, for him, trivial terrain), but soon we gained the dike proper, and from there it was like climbing a ladder, a ladder set up on the side of a perfect piece of rock in one of the most beautiful places on earth. Knobs everywhere, the 5.2 to 5.5 climbing was trivial, and afforded infinite opportunities to look out over Lost Lake and the notch we'd taken through Liberty Cap and Mt. Broderick, as well as Starry and Glacier points. As we got higher, little Yosemite, the Valley itself, and the high eastern Sierra came into view. Eventually views of Tenaya Canyon opened up to the north. Pitch after pitch of bliss, the only complaint being that Yossi climbed too fast to allow me to take in as much scenery as I would have liked. But I could have soaked it in endlessly up there, so I hardly know how I could hold that against him.
All too soon--one o'clock, maybe--we'd reached the end of the climb and ascended, unroped, the final thousand feet or so to the summit. Topping out I was oddly embarrassed, as if I'd just walked in on a couple in flangrante delicto. We'd been more or less all alone, wrapped in rock and air and each other and the project at hand, and here we'd just walked into perhaps a hundred people, eating lunch, throwing snowballs, doing headstands and taking pictures of each other and everything. Everyone asking if we'd climbed up the dome I felt even more intrusive, nervous, and out of touch.
We filled water bladders with snowmelt and after talking with Kurt and Greg for a while, finally descended the cable route down into little Yosemite valley. Then down the thousand granite stairs past Nevada, then Vernal Falls, and eventually, around quarter after six, having passed probably upwards of another hundred tourists, finding the car, no ticket even on the wiper. (Oh, I love these days before Memorial Day when parks can't afford to enforce policies.) Just under 14 hours, car to car, (after three hours sleep) with an 8 pitch technical climb, another 4000+ feet of less technical vertical gain, and total about fifteen miles of approach and descent including bushwhacking and retracing and so much resting and rose smelling. I see why this route is a four star valley classic. After dinner in Groveland, and a nap in the car soon afterward, I was home, shaved and showered, unpacked with everything put back where it belonged, and in bed flirting with sleep before one in the morning.
Sunday: I didn't get up early enough to run the Bay to Breakers. I was surprised, in fact, how hard it was to awake in general. The previous day had really taken more out of me than I would have thought. It was a nice thing to be able to sleep in, check in and do a few things at work, the go to Yossi's to trade gear, boulder at Glen Canyon Park near Carolyn's in the city, and even sing shapes and hang out afterward for a while. What a pleasant weekend to squeeze in the middle of mtneering season.
Yossi took some pictures.