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 4th 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
