I managed to stumble through the last few hours of my shift, motivated by the fact that by the end of the day I'd be breathing crisp, thin mountain air. I left work by 8 am, fought off sleep on the commute home, and finished packing the car. By 10 I was caffeinated and picking up Brad at the San Jose airport. We had just over a week to spend in the Sierra, and there was no time for sleep.

I'd been up for more than 24 hours, but the coffee fueled me as I steered us out of the Bay Area. Brad took over on the 120, and we continued on towards Yosemite. I managed to doze off for a few minutes here and there, but sleep never comes well to me in the car. I came out of my half-awake stupor in Tuolumne and was re-invigorated by the scenery. By late afternoon we had a campsite above Tom's Place at more than 9,000 feet.

Our objective the next day was the North Arete of Bear Creek Spire. We had decided to try it in a day from the car so we could squeeze in as much climbing on this trip as our soft bodies would allow. It seemed like a good idea at sea level, but my lack of sleep and the altitude had some doubts creeping into my head as we shared beers and packed our bags.

2 a.m. always comes too soon, but we managed to drag our asses out of bed, neither of us wanting to be the guy who suggests sleeping in an extra hour. By 3 we were on the trail, marching quietly.


The path slowly gained elevation until Gem Lakes, where we left the main trail and began a seemingly endless talus scramble towards Bear Creek Spire.


We stopped to fill our water bottles at Dade Lake. The morning wind whipping off the lake was chilling us to the bone. We both had all of our clothes on, and I was really hoping that we’d get sun on the route, otherwise it was going to be a frigid day.


As we finished the approach, the sun peaked over the ridge crest and bathed our route in beautiful morning light.



We geared up just beneath the base of the route and scrambled up some 4th class to the first pitch.



The skies were bluebird and we had the route to ourselves. The wind was howling, but the sun made things tolerable, if not pleasant. I led up the steep flakes and splitter cracks of pitch 1, which gave way to a nice ledge. Pitch 2 followed more flakes up and right on gorgeous white granite.


A couple of easier pitches led us to the crux of the route. It was also at this point that an overwhelming fatigue set in my body. A combination of the altitude, lack of sleep the night before, and our early start combined to create the perfect storm. I explained to Brad that I just wanted to rest my eyes for a minute or two. 20 minutes later Brad shook me awake. I was temporarily recharged by the nap, and I began climbing.

A few chimney moves, a hand jam or two, and a couple of stems saw me through. I raced up a low angled chimney to the belay, dismayed that I was in the shade. The wind picked up and I shivered as I belayed Brad up. We had considered switching leaders here, but there was no way in hell I was waiting at this cold station any longer, so I grabbed the gear and tunneled through to the sunny side and set up another belay on a big ledge.

At this point the steeper lower buttress gave way to a lower angled ridge that leads to the summit. We began simul-climbing, pitching out short sections when necessary.



Except for one route finding error, things flowed smoothly, and before long we were standing on top, very tired, but also very satisfied.




After one rappel we began the long, arduous descent. Scree, talus, scree, 4th class scramble, sun cupped snow, talus, more scree, more snow, more talus, more talus, more talus…

Eventually we reached Gem Lakes and a well-worn trail. We were both wasted by this point - aching feet, sore knees, fatigued, sleep-deprived, and hungry – but we trudged on, our pace slowing significantly. Just before dark we reached the parking lot, almost 17 hours after leaving. Brad was feeling a little sick, and he crashed without eating, very uncharacteristic of him. I was too lazy to cook a meal, so I polished off a bag of potato chips and turkey jerky, washed it down with a beer, and went to sleep feeling quite content.

We slept in late the next morning, feeling refreshed by the long night of sleep. We enjoyed a wonderful breakfast in Rock Creek, and then packed our backpacks for our next objective, Charlotte Dome. The South Face of Charlotte Dome is one of the 50 Classics and needs little introduction among climbers. Its sunny south face is home to solid, golden granite and unique features that make it a true gem. It does however, lie 12 or 13 miles from the road, making it one of the longer approaches amongst the popular Sierra routes.

With bags packed, we drove south to Independence, stopping in Bishop to pick up a thing or two we had forgotten. The Onion Valley trailhead was a zoo, but we eventually found a parking spot and space in a bear locker for our spare food. By 2:30 pm we were on the trail, much later than we had planned. The air was warm and quite hazy, due to some fires to the West. It did little to detract from the fine scenery, however, as we moved steadily towards Kearsarge Pass.



A couple of hours later we reached the pass, where we stopped for a snack and some pictures.



From here it was downhill to Charlotte Lake, 8 miles from where we had begun. We stopped here for the night instead of pressing on to the bivy sites beneath the dome, where most climbers stay. It was getting late, and we didn’t relish the thought of doing the last tricky section of the approach with full backpacks in the dark. Our bivy at Charlotte Lake was sublime.



We woke up once again at an unusually early hour, and after 45 minutes of dressing, packing, cooking, and eating we were on the trail. The first mile or so went fine in the dark, but we did get a bit lost at one point right before it became light enough to ditch the headlamps. We hiked cross country until we reached a large manzanita slope, which was home to dozens of trails that criss-crossed one another on the steep, loose incline. The route came into view at this point. We wandered back and forth for a while here, never really finding the best path. Within an hour we made it to the bivy sites beneath the east side of the dome.



We ditched a pack, filled up our water bottles, and began the hike down to the base of the route. We once again got a little lost, as we went way too low, and had to ascend a couple of hundred feet back to the toe of the buttress. Eventually we found the start of the route, shed some layers (it was getting quite hot in the sun), and began climbing.


Brad led the first few pitches, which were fun, low angled slabs and cracks. The rock was surprisingly solid and the climbing was quite enjoyable. We had the route to ourselves and the weather was perfect.


I took over at the ‘Slot’ pitch, which climbs a pretty corner through a small roof. Stemming and plenty of good nut placements got me through this section without too much grunting.



A traversing pitch led to the next crux, an awkward, somewhat flaring right facing corner. I had to reach pretty far back in the corner at times to get gear, but it’s all there. I was happy to have a #3 Camalot and a #4 Friend here. A little more grunting and I was at the top of the corner, setting up an uncomfortable hanging belay in a shallow crack.




The next pitch had me feeling a little nervous. The Supertopo makes this face climbing pitch sound pretty runout, but it turned out to be fairly well protected, with only one blank section early in the pitch on pretty easy climbing. Plenty of good nuts can be placed on this pitch, especially if you bring some offsets.


The next pitch is the well-known ‘Furrows” pitch, which climbs large, eroded grooves that provide huge, juggy handholds the entire way up. The climbing here was particularly enjoyable.


After a couple easier pitches we found ourselves on a large ledge, one rope length from the top. This last pitch was awesome, climbing a thin finger crack, then traversing over to a steep face covered in massive jugs which led all the way to the summit ridge. We unroped and walked the last few feet to the top, where we smiled, high-fived, and took in the wonderful views.



From here we once again began a long, tiring descent back to camp. We were hungry but in much better shape than we had been after Bear Creek Spire. We ran into two guys out backpacking for a week, both of whom where in their 70s. What an inspiration! A couple of hours later we made it back to camp, having done the last 30 minutes in the dark.


We awoke the next morning at a more reasonable hour, took a dip in the lake, and packed our bags. We reversed the 8 mile approach over Kearsarge Pass and arrived at the car in the early afternoon. We lounged here for a while, sharing beers with a solo backpacker who was glad for the company and a cold, adult beverage.



Our next mission was to find a campsite for the next couple nights. We wanted to sleep high so as not to lose acclimatization, but we also wanted to be as close as possible to Lone Pine, as our next objective was Mount Russell. Unfortunately it was a weekend and all of the sites near Independence and Lone Pine were reserved in advance. Therefore, we drove north back towards Bishop, where we managed to grab the last site at North Lake. We feasted well on burgers that night in Bishop.

We figured the next day would be a rest day after 2 awesome routes with big approaches. We also had to get permits for Russell, and that meant we needed to be in Lone Pine at the ranger station where the permits were handed out. We arrived early to get in line, not knowing that it was a lottery. We killed time by browsing the guidebooks and the exhibits at the visitors center. When the magic hour came, there were 5 of us present for 4 spots on the North Fork Of Lone Pine Creek the next day. The ranger said there were 40+ people the previous day (weekend), so we were fortunate I suppose. Brad came up clutch and drew number 1. We taunted the lone loser (OK, maybe not), grabbed our permit and spent the rest of the day showering, eating well, drinking beers, and generally wasting time. We contemplated climbing Cardinal Pinnacle, but the approach wasn’t long enough (or was it that we were tired and a little buzzed?).

The next day we once again slept in, packed our backpacks, and drive to Lone Pine and the Mount Whitney trailhead.




The approach to Upper Boyscout Lake was a grunt, but it went quicker than expected. We scored an excellent bivy site, chatted with some other climbers, and went to bed early. Sleep for me is always difficult the night before a big climb and that night was no exception.







Another alpine start had us on the trail to Iceberg Lake in the dark. We were rewarded by stunning views of first light on the Whitney Crest.



Two years ago we had done this approach and went way too far towards Whitney before turning right towards Iceberg Lake, losing about 30 minutes in the process. This time we overcompensated and turned right too early, once again getting lost and wasting about 30 minutes in the process. Ahhh, shit! We did ultimately reach Iceberg Lake, where we snacked and filled our water bottles. After this a long scree slog led us up and over the Whitney-Russell Pass, where we were finally able to see our intended line, the Fishhook Arete.


The Fishhook Arete is a stunning natural line if you ask me. I’d wanted to climb it ever since we’d topped out on Whitney two years ago and saw the Hook for the first time.


A short walk across more talus had us at the base of the route. The wind was ripping and it was friggin’ cold! I led up the first pitch, a nice splitter crack, in all of my clothes, shivering at the belay on the ridge crest. For the first time on the trip, we had company on our route, a couple of nice guys from Flagstaff. They were simul-climbing and quickly passed us at the second belay. The third pitch felt like the crux - stemming and jamming some left-leaning flakes on the crest. Route finding was a bit challenging here, but I managed to choose a line that offered solid climbing and good pro. Brad took over from here and led the fourth pitch where the arête doglegs left.


Brad continued to lead us up the arête, where pitch after pitch of fun climbing on awesome white granite almost made us forget about the cold temps and the persistent wind.


We had one scare near the top, where I unexpectedly pulled off a small loose block, which sent me on a short fall down into a notch. Normally I’m pretty careful about loose rock, but I must have had my guard down. Sufficiently shaken but uninjured, I finished the pitch on easier ground to the left. Brad grabbed the rack and led us to the top.

Upon reaching the summit we were greeted by a group of four who had climbed the Mithral Dihedral. It probably wouldn’t have been worth mentioning, but the group included a nine and eleven year-old girl! They must have been climbing their whole brief lives, because they couldn’t have been more comfortable on that summit, miles from the road and thousands of feet above solid ground. One of them even noted in the summit register that the Mithral “wasn’t even that hard” and she followed the route without falls. I’m sure we’ll soon be hearing about her feats in the magazines soon enough. The dudes who led them up it were obviously bad asses as well, as they had cruised the route in approach shoes and a rack about 1/4th the size of ours. I signed the register myself, feeling rather meager now about our accomplishment that felt pretty hard to me!

But that small ego check was hardly going to dampen my bliss. We had reached our third summit in a week, the views were wonderful, and I was in the company of a great friend. We snapped a summit shot, scrambled down the East Ridge, broke down camp, and were back at the Whitney Portal Store in time to grab a burger. Or so we thought! They closed the grill early and the best we could do was a bag of chips and two cold beers. Not a bad consolation prize.



Upon returning to the car, we found out some jackass had forgotten to lock our bear box, and most of our food was missing or completely trashed. We hastily packed the car and sped towards Lone Pine in search of food. We did find a greasy burger in town, and all was well.

The next morning we began our drive back to the Bay Area, brainstorming a ticklist for out next adventure in the Sierra.