Drew Squared ascent of Half Dome

During several weeks in the Valley everything I did here—EVERYTHING—happened beneath the lurking hulk of Half Dome.  Every time I drove the loop road, every time I tried to sneak a shower at Curry Village…I would often find myself in a meadow or a parking lot just gazing up at Half Dome.  It soars above the valley, its bold asymmetry a testament to the ravaging glaciers that carved this valley out of bedrock over several ice ages.  I knew that if I left the Valley without climbing Half Dome it would eat at me all year.

Luckily, in true Camp 4 impromptu form, I was cooking up some grub one night last week when the other Drew materialized out of the darkness with a brief greeting and the question, “hey man, do you want to climb Half Dome next Tuesday?” 

“In a day?”

“Ya, bivy, then crush it light and fast.”

“A Drew²  ascent!”

Done.  I’d planned to drive over to the East Side with Jim Toman for the weekend for some R&R in the hotsprings, so the timing was perfect.  I’d climbed Moratorium, a fierce 5.11 crack climb, with Drew Marshall during my first week in the Valley, so I knew he was good for it.  The only possible hitch was the weather forecast: 20% to 40% showers depending on who you ask, but he was about to leave for Indian Creek so we decided to hedge our bets.  I couldn’t let this opportunity slide.  It’s not every day that I meet another goofball named Drew who wants to blast up a 2,200 ft vertical face onsight in a day.

I could blame road construction or own up to bad time management but either way you slice it I squealed into the Camp 4 parking lot at 3:30 on Monday.  “Sorry dude.”  What else can you say.  We hurriedly racked up and prepped a dinner and wall snacks, loaded up packs, and hit the trail from the orchard at 5 PM for the so-called “death slabs” approach, which neither of us had been on.  I was pretty worried about the prospect of trying to ascend the convoluted maze of scree trails, exposed slabs, and fixed ropes in the dark, but we had “summit stoke” and jammed up most of the approach in daylight, turning on headlamps after the final 4^th class scrambling, relieved.  We ate a nice supper of ravioli, sardines, carrots and avocado and bedded down beneath the looming black mass of the northwest face of Half Dome.

                                    

At 4 AM it was pretty damn cold.  I was not psyched to get out of my sleeping bag, or for that matter climb 2,200 ft of unknown cracks and chimneys.  That’s one thing I’m learning about alpinism: the mornings often suck, but the rewards come later.  You just have to power through the mornings; don’t think about the enormity of what you’re attempting, but break it down into simple tasks: eat, piss, put on a harness, flake a rope.  In the dark we shivered and ate hard-boiled eggs, tried not to talk about how cold it was, and without further ado I started up the first pitch in the small circle of my headlamp.  Within minutes I forgot about the cold as I got lost in the movement upwards.  With a 70m rope we were able to link many of the first pitches and as dawn filled the Valley with light we found ourselves well above the ground, getting into the classic Robbins Traverse. 

morning light on the Valley and El Cap

        

 Dawn.  2 hours into the climb.  On second thought it would have been worth the weight to bring the Jetboil and brew coffee.           

I had expected to stash my puffy jacket in the backpack by mid-morning, but the higher up the wall we climbed, the colder it got.  Gusts of wind were downright frigid, and we kept the puffys on until we gained the base of the chimneys.  I dangled the puffy beneath me on a sling and headed up into the first 5.9 chimney.  Climbing squeeze chimneys always takes a strong dose of faith and confidence: you are the pro.  But you’re not gonna fall.  I made it up the first chimney via an unforeseen hole exit/finger crack/ pendulum/ offwidth variation (I hope I’m not the first person stupid enough to try that?), then Drew led up the next chimney and fist crack in 2 rope-stretchers.  

                                                 

High on the route, still in puffys

     Drew2 emerging from the hole on the first chimney              

We made it to Big Sandy ledge by 3 PM and were greeted by the sun!  Finally able to shed the puffys, I headed up into the Zig Zags, finding a ton of fixed gear in the aid corners and amazing free climbing.  Liebacking and jamming up those steep corners in the afternoon light, 2000 ft off the deck, made all the labor and cold worth it.  Next Drew led the “Thank God Ledge” in impeccable style, walking face- out the whole time!  He’d been psyched on that all day, and he made it happen.  I tried to follow his style with the backpack but ended up groveling sideways with one leg swung up—hardly a proud moment.  Drew aided up the bolt ladder and sent the final slab and we emerged on the summit at sunset, spellbound by a dazzling panorama of the high Sierras bathed in purple clouds.  A gust of cold wind whipped us out of our reverie; we had 2000 ft to descend to our bivy gear, and a hellish descent to follow.  We scooted down the cables as darkness fell.

                               

sunset over the Captain

 

    Drew2 in the Zig Zags                                     Drew2 styling the "Thank God" ledge

I try not to remember the descent.  That’s another lesson of alpinism: sometimes the descents suck, but you need to keep focused, especially when there are no-fall zones on fixed ropes and steep scree-littered slabs.  Left foot, right foot.  With minimum bumbles we worked our way down the “death slabs” and hit a glorious footpath after the last fixed rope, where I triumphantly let my brain turn off and we hiked the last 2 miles to Drew’s van in a silent stupor.  We pulled into Camp 4 at midnight; I ate a lump of pecan sticky bun and half a tub of yogurt and passed out.  The Drew² ascent of Half Dome was complete, and I was 100% beat.

 

 Drew Marshall, from Toronto, a solid partner on the rock