Half Dome Yosemite National Park

September 20, 2011 — Day 2

This is the day — the one we came here for.

At 7 o'clock sharp, Nevin starts heating water for our choice of coffee, tea, or cocoa.  It is ready none too soon, because I have packed only a sweatshirt for additional warmth and the sun isn't up yet.  Then our host prepares some couscous — a North African dish consisting of a mushy substance with raisins and banana chips.  Or at least that is Nevin's recipe.  Once the kitchen is clean, we are ready to go at 9 a.m.

Preparing for the big push

A nifty feature of these Osprey backpacks is that the top portion, or "the brain" as Nevin calls it, is removable and becomes a serviceable lumbar pack.  Ali and I have brought along our own, however.  I will carry four liters of water, the most ever for me.  Nevin has extra water as well, should someone need it.

Wendell's legs are sore this morning; but he is game to continue with the aid of a knee brace, which he says is a big help.  My own feet feel inexplicably better now than before the hike began; in fact, I have no aches or pains whatever.  Go figure.

Starting up the trail
The rock awaits us

A helpful reminder
Dave enters a land suitable for trolls and ogres

Upon seeing the signs, Nevin gasps and rushes back to camp to retrieve the hiking permits that he had forgotten.  I am mildly irked at myself for not having thought to check with him sooner.

The cable route is barely visible to the left of the cleft

Within ten minutes I doff my sweatshirt and stash it behind a log.  Shortly after that, I entreat Ali to do the same with his sweater.  After a snack break at about the thousand-foot mark, we continue up the forested route to the ridge top, where there finally are some views.  Although we can hear the sounds of a rescue helicopter ahead, it remains just out of sight.  Apparently there was some sort of medical crisis nearby.

Standing on the edge of Tenaya Canyon, I recognize prominent features to the north and west.  I was hoping to see Snow Creek Falls across the way, this being the only possible vantage point; but that cascade is bone-dry at this time.

Mount Watkins and Mount Hoffman to the north
North Dome in the west

As the route turns southward, a monster monolith appears.  Hello, there!

This is exciting    ⇔

The last of the easy going

There is an obstacle to our progress — a formation hugging Half Dome's shoulder known as Sub Dome.  At its base is a ranger checking for the required hiking permits.  As of 2011, not more than 450 such permits are issued for each day (reduced to 300 as of 2019); either you have one, or your forward progress is terminated right here.

Still waiting
Regrouping at the permit station

Note that the warning sign does not stipulate whether potential climbers are allowed to use the trail; rather, it encourages them to use their brains.  Virtually every person who has died on this route was doing something stupid at the time — namely, attempting a passage when the rock was wet or when the cables were down.  Moreover, those who would denigrate the Park Service (or anyone else) for declining to protect people from themselves are equally misguided.  It's my life, and I will choose my own destiny, thank you.

There should not be any inclement weather today

Scaling the Sub Dome involves some 600 vertical feet of granite steps — much like the Mist Trail, yet steeper.  Getting up this section necessitates a lot of short breathers, at least for me.

All five of my guys are in the picture.  Can you find them?

From the top of Sub Dome, the important details are revealed.  Most hikers stop here at least briefly, in order to take stock of the situation and contemplate their fates.

The challenge ahead is clear.  Two steel cables, each some 700 feet long, ascend 400 vertical feet at up to a 50-degree angle.  They are elevated to a usable height by metal posts sunk into the rock at approximately 15-foot intervals.  Stretched between each pair of posts is a wooden slat, loosely secured at one end.

It sounds like fun, or does it?  Some hikers actually do have second thoughts and call it quits here, but we will not be denied.

Here it is, guys.  You go first!    ⇔

Wish me luck!               Let's get going!

The four of us who are using walking sticks set them aside, because they would be useless from here on.  Dave, suffering a slight case of acrophobia and other jitters, abandons his daypack as well so as to present an uncluttered profile to the dreaded via ferrata route ahead.

At the base of the cables is a controversial pile of old gloves, available for use if desired.  Having brought my own, I put them on.  No one can think of a reason for further delay.

It is time to earn our merit badges

I fall in line at the tail end of our group, hanging back as usual to take pictures.  Having done this thing previously, I feel no apprehension of the relative exposure or potential scariness of the ascent.  It does cross my mind, however, that I already have climbed 2,400 feet today, that little or no rest will be available on the cables, and that I might have spent more time developing some upper-body strength at the gym.  Oh well, it is too late now to worry about such things.

Steeling myself for the ordeal, I forge ahead, always pulling myself up immediately to the next rung as soon as it becomes available.  In several places it is necessary to clamber up onto a higher slab as well, making the angle of ascent even steeper.  It does not even occur to me to pause for photographs, for I am too busy concentrating on the task at hand.

Negotiating the route is something of a game of push and pull.  Although the official right-of-way belongs to those descending the cables, frequently they are content to wave others forward in seeming sympathy for the rigors of the uphill grind.  Today no one seems impatient, and no one is in a hurry to proceed in either direction.

I observe several young folk using climbing harnesses which allow them to remain safely tethered to a cable at all times.  Jim is wearing some unorthodox shoes that are shaped like actual feet and look more appropriate for a visit to Disneyland than for serious hiking.  He is having some difficulty now, because apparently those shoes lack the traction of thicker-soled boots; and if there is one thing that is indispensable on this slope, it is traction.  Presently a nice National Geographic map slides down the slab on its own about twenty feet away.  I sure hope that its former owner does not attempt to retrieve it.

After what seems like only about ten minutes but which doubtless was more, I am congratulated by hikers starting down the slope.  Surely enough, the gradient begins to level out; and soon the cable assist is no longer needed.  Once again I stand on the summit of Half Dome, overlooking Yosemite Valley and El Capitan!

Life at the top

A group photograph is taken by a pretty young Scandinavian woman, who stuffs her own camera down into her bra in order to support two of ours, which seems somehow fitting.

Our Gang: Nevin, Ted, Jim, Wendell, Dave, Ali    ⇔

Nevin serves his wards a lunch of chicken salad sandwiches and beef jerky that is most welcome.  Then he pays Ali and me a compliment of sorts by proclaiming that the two of us are the oldest hikers he ever has taken on a tour.  Of course, he did wait until we actually achieved the summit before issuing the accolade.

After lunch, the Sacramento contingent takes turns posing at the precipice:

Dave

Ali

Yours Truly

Unbeknownst at the time, the three of us actually have been standing on a fascinating overhanging promontory nicknamed The Visor.  Our portraits might have been more interesting had they been shot from this following angle:

I was standing where the guy in the black shirt is sitting now

The Sacramento Trio opts to traverse a quarter of a mile to the other end of the dome.  I descend the southern slope as far as I dare, attempting to get a glimpse of the Merced River, but to no avail.  I can hear the big waterfalls doing their thing, but they remain well out of sight.

Cairn art abounds atop the dome

The top of this rock is so big that one could play football on it.  In fact, it is the size of seventeen football fields; nevertheless, should the quarterback elect to "throw one away", he might never see it again.

Not so long ago there were some trees up here, before they became firewood    ⇔

David proclaims that the surrounding vistas are the finest he has seen.  He is a pretty happy guy right now.

Cables, shmables.  Who needs 'em?
Mysterious visitor

Many bloggers mislabel The Visor as The Diving Board, even though the formation by that name is clearly denoted on the topo sheet as not even being a part of Half Dome itself.  Some of those same writers refer to Sub Dome as Quarter Dome; yet the two Quarter Domes are plainly visible about a mile to the north, and they are equally well-documented on paper.  I feel the need to reiterate that those who would presume to tell us should at least be able and willing to read a map.

This is why I go hiking    ⇔

Dark clouds are forming to the southeast, so a thunderstorm might be brewing over there.  Perhaps it is best that our group is preparing to depart the summit.

Little Yosemite Valley is spread out below

As I walk toward the cables, I am treated to an outstanding northward view of Clouds Rest, Cathedral Peak, and more.  That solid rock face in Tenaya Canyon is considered the largest area of exposed granite in the world.  Beyond it I can barely make out the dregs of the elusive Pywiack Cascade, which I visited two months ago.

Jim and Wendell prepare for the big plunge    ⇔

Jim is smiling, while Dave is looking anywhere but down    ⇔

The descent is much slower than it might have been, because just in front of us is a pair of older women proceeding at a snail's pace.  Dave requests that I not follow him too closely, lest I tumble down on top of him; so I wait until he has vacated each wooden perch before proceeding toward it myself.  Some folk prefer to turn around and inch their way down facing backwards, but it suffices me to maintain a strong enough grip on the cables to keep from sliding forward too quickly.

Actually, the forced delays provide extra time for looking around and taking pictures.  I am having a lot of fun right now; for me, this is the best part of the entire trek.  One woman coming uphill even says that she digs my sunglasses!

Using a camera necessitates the removal of my right glove.  As an experiment, I don't bother to put it back on.  Interestingly enough, my grip on the cable is just as good barehanded and is no less comfortable.  If the cable were cold, it would be a different matter.

The crowd is thinning out now.  I suppose that we could have waited.

This is why I go hiking

The scary part being over, everyone is relieved.  The mission has been accomplished without incident.  I drop my old gloves onto the pile for someone else to use.

The sole negative aspect of my experience was the appearance of some unnaturally colored water bottles and other items caught in rock crevices just out of arms' reach.  I truly would have been happy to retrieve them had I been tethered to a post.  I trust that the rangers do perform a cleanup operation whenever they take the cables down at season's end.

Dave exclaims that "You meet the politest people in the world on the cables!", and they certainly were that today.

North Dome could be the best place from which to view the face of Half Dome

It is becoming pretty dark over the Clark Range

The only remaining obstacle is the stone stairs on the Sub Dome.  While I confidently take them one foot per step, the man in front of me is planting both feet on each level.  This means that I must stop frequently, because he is proceeding at just half-speed.

The rock dike is pointing the way
These steps are not a lot of fun

Jim is lagging a bit, because his feet are sore.  "No pain, no gain", he bravely quips.  I trust that Jim will reassess his footwear selection for any future High-Sierra outings.

The pointed one is Tenaya Peak
Mount Starr King

Mount Watkins in front of Mount Hoffman

It being fairly late in the afternoon by now as we approach the permit checkpoint, the park ranger has departed for the day.  From here it is just a matter of descending another 1,700 feet over three miles.

This guy is posing, so I will humor him

I had set GPS waypoints to mark the spots where Ali and I ditched our clothing, but the device now shows those places as being 124 miles away!  I'll have to check out that error later; meanwhile, I can make use of the elevation data recorded for those waypoints.

Ali is long gone down the trail as usual, so I check behind his rock.  Not unexpectedly, his sweater is still there; and returning it to him is going to be fun.  Half a mile later, I retrieve my own sweatshirt.

Back in the enchanted forest

At the campground, Iron Man Ali is lounging with yet another cigarette in hand, steadfastly claiming that it is "for recreational purposes only".

The prescribed treatment for overworked feet

A couple of men are swimming in the Merced River.  Although I am no pansy, the water is quite cold and the sun has all but disappeared; so I will forgo that activity.  I do grab the opportunity to wash my face for the first time in two days.

Our leader filters a lot more water

While Nevin is pumping away, he tells some good stories, including one about the times that he and a friend would hike to the bottom of Grand Canyon, then offer to carry people's packs to the top for fifty dollars a pop.  He says that they got a lot of takers.

After a futile attempt to locate a leak in Wendell's sleeping mat by dunking it in the river, Nevin exchanges it for his own mat.  Then he prepares a tasty dish of pesto and pasta.  As yesterday, there is no hint of a breeze this evening, which is a very good thing.  We actually do hear some thunder and see a couple of lightning flashes, yet no adverse weather comes our way.

Dave rehashes his earlier request for me to remain well behind him during the cable descent, saying in essence that, "I love this man, but I don't know whether I would hold out my hand should he come rolling down the slab beside me".  That is perfectly fine, because I don't know that I would stick out my own hand either.  Also, Ali opines that the wooden slats should be more firmly attached.  Although those boards will not come loose, they do rattle around a bit.  I suppose that that condition could be unnerving to some, but I personally found that it added to the fun.

Sunset at the camp

§: What a glorious day!  Everyone made it up and down the mountain, and Nevin assured us that not all of his groups have been as successful.  The round-trip hike took seven hours or so, including lunch and detours.

Having surmounted Half Dome on two prior occasions, I felt that I had organized this trek primarily for the benefit of my two friends.  In truth, however, I may have had a hidden agenda; for today I have joined an obscure yet elite club of sorts, by conquering the iconic peak on the 50-year anniversary of my initial ascent!  I wonder how many people can make that claim.  A new group of climbers at the campfire was amazed by that statistic, possibly because none of those folk had yet been born in 1961.

I am feeling especially pleased with myself right now.