We Spent New Years in Yosemite!

With high hopes and a minivan packed to capacity we headed up north to a rented cabin somewhere near MidPines to spend New Years in Yosemite. Woo hoo!
It was a big expedition. In addition to our minivan there was a station wagon, and between the two vehicles we had four kids ages 2-7, two sets of parents, two dogs and a 20something niece and a then-potential future nephew-in-law.
As I always do on these family outings I tried to weasel climbing into it, even if it’s just the potential of climbing, the mere hint of it. Looking closely at a rock would be nice. Anything. Innumerable trips to Joshua Tree had involved bringing the climbing gear somewhere in the Eurovan in the vague, fleeting belief that something, anything could be climbed. Even the hope of placing a camming device would make my spirit soar.
Bolstering my hopes on this trip was the inclusion of my niece’s boyfriend David, fresh from a summer guiding for RMI on Mt. Ranier (preceded by two tours of duty with the Marines in Iraq). He was a strong partner and a fine addition to my climbing hopes. Even if he was mostly a boulderer.
But it was the middle of winter and anything in Yosemite that didn’t have snow on it would be wet, so I was realistic. I was thinking of climbing something dry and ambitious like maybe El Cap Tree, until I saw that it included “numerous hooking moves.” I had no hooks and had never hooked before, especially not on anything wet or slippery. The first few pitches of the Nose seemed doable, too. But when we got into the Valley, on a remarkably sunny New Year’s Eve, we instead started marching up to the leftmost open book of Munginella.
Ah the joy of being not only out in the wilderness, but on our way to climb something in Yosemite! It was the summer of 1976 all over again! Woo hoo!
“Isn’t this terrific?” I bleeted. “Look! Rocks! Half Dome! The Arches! The Column! There’s Lost Arrow Spire! And that’s the Apron! Why back in the 70s we used to…”
I think David wondered if I had maybe missed some critical medications. You have to understand that I haven’t climbed much of anything for eight years since our first wonderful child was born and this for me was like a thin slice of pure heaven, even if the slice was only 5.5 or whatever Munginella is rated.
We got to the base of the climb, racked up, tied in, belayed-on, I leaned back into the right-facing lieback and… slid right off! Fwoomp!
I landed in the dirt and leaves for which this climb was no doubt named and started laughing, cackling like some maniac in Act V of a Twilight Zone episode. David was probably trying to remember where in his pack he kept that syringe of knock-out juice.
“This thing’s wet!” I said.
Indeed it was. While I had convinced myself that it wasn’t that wet, that there was a way around the water dribbling all across all five open books and all across the entire great Valley itself, there was no denying that the coefficient of friction wasn’t what it used to be, on either the rocks or me.
I lunged back up, cranked about 15 feet of lubricated lieback, jammed in a cam (I used a piece of “pro!” In The Valley!) then weaseled over to the left and slogged like a depraved lizard through the wet, muddy dirt and oak scrub, style be damned. I managed to hack my way about halfway up the pitch to a nice ledge with more oak trees and set up what was probably not a regulation RMI belay anchor, though I was impressed with it.
David politely seconded.
“What a view! What great weather! Why, this stuff’ll dry out soon and then we can…”
But the hour was late, the sun was setting.
We rapped off the biggest tree we could find, then another tree that may or may not have been that stout and then we were on the ground. Happy New Year!
The next day was colder and darker. We went to the Nose and… there was someone on it! Some guy was soloing the Nose on New Year’s Day, totally ruining our hopes of breaking Hans and Yugi’s record.
Ah well, we were in The Valley, the actual magnificent Valley itself, and we had (more or less) climbed something! This would keep me going throughout the rest of winter, maybe into my 60s.
God bless you SuperTopoans, thank you for all the great trip reports. They mean more to me than you’ll ever know. Happy New Year to everyone!