“Half Dome is unclimbable; a perfectly inaccessible peak which never has been, and never will be, trodden by human foot” – California Geological Survey, 1860s
Prologue
Rob and I went climbing in the gym on Tuesday and formed a loose plan that maybe we could climb Snake Dike, a 5.7R route that winds up the southwest face of Half Dome. It was now Sunday. Snake Dike is one of the 50 classic climbs of the world; a route not to be underestimated by its easy rating. The “R” value in the grade means “R-rated”, just like the movies, but in this context, it suggests that injury, such as broken limbs and serious lacerations, is likely in the event of a fall thanks to the long distances (run-out) between gear placements. The only rating above this one is “X”, which means that serious injury or death is likely in the event of a fall. Quoting myself from Tuesday’s blog, “It was going to be a long day and we needed a few pieces of gear, but apart from that, I thought we’d be able to at least give it a shot together.”
The First Approach
2am our alarms went off. I could hear Rob rustling around in his tent as I walked off to the bathroom so I knew he was up. When I returned, I helped him break down his tent. Mine was staying up since K&S were going to extend our stay at site C94. At 2:15am, we drove slowly out of the quiet campground, Rob in his car, me in the Mini. Neither of us had slept well, I’d been too nervous with too many thoughts running through my head but thankfully there were no nightmares of falling of a big wall…
We stopped at Olmstead Point for a look at the stars. There weren’t many thanks to the brightness of the moon, but it still felt pretty special to be standing at a must-visit tourist spot of Yosemite completely alone and looking up at the sky. Too cold to stay long, we carried on, me following Rob’s tail lights through the night. We only saw a couple of other cars at such an odd hour.
After an hour’s drive, we pulled off at the Tuolumne Grove trailhead where I dropped the Mini and joined Rob in his car. From there, we drove down into the valley, sharing any thoughts we had about the day ahead and discussing how badly we’d both slept. The dark shadow of El Capitan loomed as we drove through some isolated smoke haze from the nearby fires. What we were about to do was nerve-wracking enough, I don’t know if El Capitan would ever appeal to me. Now, just as it always has, it scared the shit out of me just looking at it.
We found our way to Half Dome Village where we parked in the bit carpark and Rob whipped out his camping stove to make some breakfast. As we ate hot oats and a dehydrated package of potatoes, bacon and cheese under the light of a streetlamp, we could see other head torches at the back of a car. Thinking they were climbers like us, we resisted the temptation to hurry ourselves so we could make it to the wall before them. On the advice of Shannon, we’d started at 2am instead of 3am to try and beat the crowds to the base of the dome.
We finished our breakfast, double and triple checked we had everything we needed for the day, then kitted up. Rob arranged the rope and our helmets onto his back while I strapped our heavy bag onto my shoulders. It was warm enough in the valley to leave our jumpers behind, I just hoped the weather would stay fine for our ascent.
The Approach – 6 miles, 4.5 hours
It was now 4:20am, we left the car and walked towards the Happy Isles trailhead. We caught up with the people we’d seen in the carpark and found out that they were climbing Half Dome, but were taking the tourist route up the cables, so we didn’t have to worry about beating them to it. We walked down the quiet, dark, tarmac road, hardly any movement was around us. A mile later, we reached the trailhead and started hiking upwards.
Lead by the light of the moon, we started out on the Mist Trail which was steep but easy to navigate in the moonlight. We passed a few groups of “walkers”, all heading for the peak of Half Dome, but doing so without a rope. We wondered when we and if we would see other climbing pairs. Rob and I hardly stopped talking the whole time we walked. It had been a year since we’d seen each other and we had plenty of experiences to share and future adventures to contemplate. We were regularly stopped dead in our tracks by the silhouettes of mountains and rock faces we’d both seen before when we’d hiked this line in daylight. Yosemite is a gorgeous place no matter what ungodly hour of the morning you are looking at it.
We switched to headtorches as we climbed the stairs and switchbacks of the Mist trail, climbing ever higher above the valley floor. We were setting a good pace but we weren’t motoring too hard either. We had an eight pitch climb to save our energy for. We’d hoped to make it to the base of the dome at first light, but we were far from achieving that. The sun started lighting up the sky properly once we reached Nevada Falls. They were raging with noise and spray which cooled our bodies down from the intense hiking.
We filled up with water here, knowing this would be our last opportunity before we came by this way again, 12 miles of walking and 1,800 feet of climbing later. I was peeing like a pregnant woman, taking every opportunity I could to dash into the bushes and empty my bladder thanks to all the water I was drinking in an attempt to pre-hydrate myself.
We found the climber’s trail off the main path at around 6:30am, just as the early sun was lighting up the back side of the dome. Wow, did it look stunning and terrifying at the same time. I pointed out the south west face where we’d be climbing and the opposite side where tourists could walk up to the peak via the steel cables. She was an imposing piece of rock, not to be taken lightly.
Thankfully, the approach route was easy to follow and the paces we took matched the approach notes I made. We walked past Lost Lake, a swampy meadow that reeked calmness, a place of quiet below our mountain.
As we climbed ever closer to our goal, we remembered to look behind us at the other domes that formed the walls of Yosemite Valley and speculated how all of this wonder came to be. Rob took the lead as the trail diminished to be replaced by cairns (or inukshuks in Canadian terms) leading the way. Knowing that my default is to put my head down and wander down whichever path, Rob did a much better job navigating us to the base of the dome than I could have.
After bush bashing through some low brush, we came to our first piece of slab. It was steep but scramble-able with our climbing shoes on. As we swapped shoes, we could hear voices and tried not to waste any time. We’d passed a party of three on the hike up and were determined to stay ahead of them.
Rob scrambled up the slope ok, but I struggled with the dried moss coating the wall giving me no confidence in the grip underneath my feet. Rob talked me through it and I eventually found my way up via the edge of the slab, but I was disappointed in myself for being so slow that the other party got ahead of us. Rob was talking to them as I reached him. As they went on ahead of us, Rob told me that they would let us go ahead of them on the climb since we were a party of two. That was a relief, but I was feeling proper nervous now that I hadn’t handled my first piece of slab very well. I had another 1,800 feet of it to contemplate if this was going to be a successful journey.
We followed the other party along the base of the dome, walking on narrow ledges and carefully clambering over loose rock to move gradually higher towards the two trees that marked the start of the Snake Dike route. Just before 9am, after 4.5 hours and six miles of walking and scrambling, we were at the base of Snake Dike looking up. In the scrambling, we’d gotten ahead of the party of three and found only one party ahead of us, already on the first pitch. We’d timed it perfectly. Now all we had to do was get to the top.
First Pitch – 150 feet, 5.7, 7 pieces of gear
9:30am on Sunday the 10th September, Rob and I were fully racked up, we gave each other a high five then a solid hug. “Climb on,” came the instruction from Rob. Snake Dike, here we go.
We hadn’t really discussed who would have first lead, but we came to agreement that I would take the first pitch. We were both quiet before starting out because we were both thinking the same things but in the interest of not freaking out our partner, we kept our thoughts to ourselves. Without two ropes, there was no easy way to come down off the wall. Once we started on the climb, the only way out was up. We’d watched the party before us as they climbed the first pitch so that was helpful for climbing beta but it didn’t make me any less nervous as I put my feet on the vertical part of Half Dome.
The crack I followed offered plenty of gear placements so I made the best of them. Despite the 5.7 grade, I wasn’t about to hang onto gear for the sake of time or effort. I wanted this whole experience to be safe. I’d put three pieces in by the time I got to the ever-important cam in the roof. Standing precariously on slab, it took me a couple of attempts to wedge a small cam into the crevice between the wall and rock that formed a ceiling above me. Eventually I was happy and I could down climb to a horizontal feature and traverse left to get over the roof. This was the crux of the entire climb. With 20-30” of unprotected slabby traverse, I very slowly made my way to the edge of the roof’s flake. Rob’s encouragement was essential as I tested out the friction of the dome for the first time. It was not a comfortable feeling palming the rock and hoping that the balls of my feet would stick.
When my hand found the edge of the flake, I felt a wave of relief hit me and didn’t waste any time scrambling up the diagonal crack and putting in another piece of gear to stop me ground falling. Rob’s shouts meant the world to me as I carried on upwards. Limited by the number of quickdraws we’d brought, I could only put two more pieces in so I ran myself out for the next 70” until I reached the bolted anchors. Ecstatic to see the metal in the wall, I put my safety onto the bolts and let Rob know I was safe. I felt rattled, terrified, but I pushed those thoughts from my mind.
While Rob took an opportuni-pee, I set up my anchor to bring him up. “ROB! YOU’RE ON BELAY, CLIMB WHEN READY!”
By the time Rob started following me up the wall, there were three or four parties waiting at the bottom of the route. In only half and hour, a line had formed. Thank you Shannon for advising us to start early. The party ahead of us was already on the third pitch, flying up the wall thanks to an experienced leader who’d done the route before. This meant we had the whole wall in front of us to go at our own pace.
Rob made easy work of the first pitch, not having too much trouble with the gear I’d placed. Once he’d got himself over the roof and clearly into my view he didn’t waste any time in telling me how shit my roof cam had been. It had stayed in place but had been loosely moving. It was a sobering piece of information and I was glad he’d shared it but we didn’t talk about it any further.
High fives at the anchor, we were past the first hurdle. We did a gear swap, Rob gave me the backpack, then he took some time to psych himself up for his first lead.
Second Pitch – 70 feet, 5.7, 2 pieces
The climbing guide didn’t really say much about the second pitch, but it was more intimidating than the first. We couldn’t see the only bolt on the route and we definitely couldn’t see the anchor, we only knew that Rob had to traverse right unprotected for about twenty feet before heading up and trying to find a crack to place some gear. I wished him luck and he moved away from me.
With careful hands and feet, Rob moved across the slab, palming the wall and keeping as close to the wall as he could. I didn’t like seeing him so far away with no gear between us but he kept his head. I was grateful when he started moving upwards on a dike, grabbed a clip from his hip and placed it in the wall. Not long after this piece, he found a bolt, clipped it and was out of my view. Thankfully it wasn’t long until I heard him yell, “SARAH! I’M AT THE ANCHOR!” I let him know how happy I was that this was the case. I sat at my anchor as he pulled the rope towards him, standing to the right to make room for Paula, the first leader in the group of three that was coming up behind us. Such is life on a busy route such as Snake Dike, you share anchors so that everyone can get up the wall. I didn’t say much to Paula, I was too busy trying keep my head level.
When Rob was ready to bring me up, I tightened the straps on the backpack, removed my anchor and followed the direction of the rope to Rob’s first piece of gear. As I traversed away from my anchor, I was super proud of Rob for this lead. It was slabby, unprotected and scary. When I reached him at the anchor, I told him, “Great lead,” repeating it more than once because I wasn’t sure I’d have been as calm as him on that pitch.
It was at some point while at this anchor swapping gear that I said, “I love you man,” and Rob repeated the sentiment to me. In a situation such as this, there was no room for anything other than what was most important. There was no one I would rather be doing this with and I told him as much.
Third Pitch – 160 feet, 5.7, 3 pieces
We sat at the second anchor a while, looking at the climbing topo on my phone trying to look for a bolt that should have been somewhere up and to our left. From my research, I knew that this next section was the psychological crux of the entire climb. Not intimidated at all then. Neither of us could see any piece of metal amongst the shining crystals of slab that were now shining in the sun. I was grateful for the clear skies and for the cool wind that kept the temperature steady. The last thing we wanted was sweaty hands.
Despite the lack of visible bolts, I started moving away from Rob, traversing left on what friction was available. Every few moves, I looked to my left in the hopes of seeing a piece of metal that might help save my life. Nothing. Deep breath in, deep breath out. A few more feet. Still nothing. I appealed to Rob, could he see anything? Another few careful steps. Still nothing. I must have been 20 feet away from Rob now and grossly uncomfortable with the situation. I couldn’t see any protection for the next twenty feet and there was no way I wanted to go any further without a piece of gear between me and my belayer.
“WHOLLY SHIT! ROB!” I screamed at him as I scrambled to grab at a quickdraw from my harness. “WHAT’S UP SARAH, YOU OK?” Rob quickly asked. “FUCK, THERE’S A BOLT! RIGHT HERE! RIGHT HERE!” There was a bolt right in front of my face. Literally, inches from my nose. Rob shouted encouragement at me as I clipped in to the beautiful loop of steel poking out of the slab. Wholly shit, if I’d missed that.
I sat on the bolt for a bit, putting my mind back in order and taking a quick glance back at Rob before carrying on. More edging feet and hands, I continued on left towards the major dike that we would follow for the rest of the climb. Any time I felt uncomfortable (which was every other step), I just had to ask Rob, “How am I doing mate?” and he would respond with a reel of “I’ve got you Sarah”, “keep moving”, “nice work”. It was instrumental me making each move. He was carrying me across the wall.
Another 20 feet or so and I could see past the dike and the two shiny bolts the other side of it. The crystals of the dike were jugs compared to the friction of the slab and I grabbed at it greedily. One more quickdraw in the wall with a long sling and our travel up the naming feature of this wall began. This dike of Half Dome it around a foot wide, formed of crystals and harder rock than the rest of the dome. Sticking out a few inches from the rest of the dome’s face, its vein tracked all the way up the dome and out of sight.
I found another bolt a few feet up and the climbing turned into 5.4. The hardest part was over, the climbing kept getting easier from this point forward. It was the first time I felt semi-comortable the whole day knowing that. I carried on past the third bolt for another 60-80 feet without any protection but the climbing was easy enough. It didn’t mean I wasn’t scared, with every step I took a breath to try and get my body into a rhythm. It was on this pitch, my first lead with extreme run-out that my sarcastic mind put a song in my head that strangely enough kept me calm. “Glorious” by Macklemore & Skylar Grey. It surprised me, but I rolled with it.
When I came to the next set of bolts, I found a bolt plate either side of the dike but there was another anchor point about twenty feet to my right. I didn’t think I was on for another traverse, especially when it looked harder than 5.4 climbing. I clipped into one of the bolts close to me and consulted with Rob. He’d been joined by Adam, the other leader in the party below us and he was able to get out his topo and help us in decided that the bolts in front of us were the anchor I was looking for. I was grateful for the help and got to setting an anchor, using the rope and my sling to compensate for the distance the bolts were apart over the dike.
I brought Rob up behind me and he made the climbing look easy. Top rope and leading are two completely different worlds. He commended me on my lead when he joined me at the anchor and we started on what was fast becoming a routine of swapping gear and exchanging the backpack with a few sips of water in between. We were both becoming a little more talkative, but things were still pretty quiet. You could tell we were both trying to keep our heads on straight.
Fourth Pitch – 140 feet, 5.4 R, 1 piece
Rob had a good look at the Topo and didn’t like what he saw. He had 140 feet to cover and only one bolt to help him the whole way. On top of that, the bolt was about one third of the way up. He was quiet at the anchor and I tried to help by telling him that this was easy climbing, rated at a 5.4 this would hopefully be one of the easiest pitches of the climb. What we were fast learning though that it didn’t matter how easy the climbing, it was still scary as shit to have no gear below you. I wished him luck as he moved upwards. At least there was no route finding no this pitch, only bolt finding.
Every now and then I gave Rob a “Nice job!” and “You’ve got this mate” to repay his encouragement but he didn’t seem to need it as much as I had. He seemed calm and collected but I wonder if he was. At the first bolt, he was smooth with his motions, grabbing a draw and placing it in the wall next to him. “NICE WORK ROB! YOU GOT IT!” The wind was making it hard to hear now so I was really shouting. By this time, Paula had joined me at the anchor and safetied in to one of the bolt plates. Unfortunately because they weren’t any rings so she couldn’t build an anchor but she didn’t mind waiting there with me on the wall.
Rob sat a long time at the bolt and I knew he was gearing himself up for the 80 feet of no-protection climbing he had ahead of him. Everyone on the wall was at a standstill since no one could move any further until I moved past this anchor. It didn’t matter. This is what the 2am start was for. “TAKE YOUR TIME, ROB. YOU GOT THIS!” When he was ready, he moved on upwards. One move at a time, he went up at a pace faster than I’d have been comfortable at. He seemed so far away when he finally paused and clipped into the anchor. He’d made it.
He got himself safe and worked on his anchor which didn’t take him long. While I was waiting, I heard Paula shouting down below us at someone who was climbing up the wall. “THERE’S NO ROOM AT THE ANCHOR. DO NOT CLIMB!” Another pair of climbers had managed to pass Paula’s group and were in no mood to wait. Despite her cries, the man below us kept climbing. She even tried in German since that was her mother tongue and she must have known the guy below was German also. Still, he kept climbing. This was unbelievable. I decided to ignore him, focussing my attention on Rob above me instead. He was steadily building his anchor.
Soon enough, the German rusher was below me and Paula. He could immediately see there was no room for him to tie in at this anchor. A few words were exchanged between us and he said he wanted to climb past us but I told him, “I’d rather you wait.” I didn’t want him anywhere near our rope and so he stood there, unprotected, just below me and Paula. He was being rash and totally unsafe.
When Rob called for me to follow, I unclipped my anchor and left Paula to deal with Mr. Rude. I just focussed on my climbing, not what was happening below me. As I was sitting at the anchor, it occurred to me that I was already halfway done with my leading, I would only have to do two more leads and then we’d be done.
The climb was easy but I still admired Rob for how he’d lead it without protection. When I reached him, I kudosed him and enjoyed the feeling that we were both talking a little more, knowing we were past the halfway mark. I explained what had happened below us and looking down we could see that Mr. Rush was coming up behind us. Rob suggested we wait for him to pass us and I was extremely happy with that notion. There was no point making an argument. They were doing the wrong thing but we weren’t interested in having someone right on our arses the rest of our way up the rock.
When he reached us, we moved over to let him pass and he managed to squeeze a tiny draw onto a bolt plate that already had my safety and Rob’s safety attached to it. This is NOT good climbing practice. Mr. Rush climbed up at an alarming rate and I was abashed to see he was wearing sneakers. Clearly this was a walk in the park for him. As he climbed to the bolt above us, Mrs. Rush started shouting from below in German. It soon became clear he was running out of rope and wouldn’t be able to reach the next anchor. He tried moving upwards, but he could go no further. There was a shouting match between the two the was gathered to mean he was trying to convince her to untie from her anchor and simul-climb to the next anchor, but she was obviously having none of it. He said a few swear words in English before downclimbing back to the bolt above us and belaying her from there. Another really stupid thing to do. After bringing Mrs. Rush up to the anchor that Paula was still sitting at, he carried on to the next anchor and Mrs. Rush climbed up. She at least had the grace to apologise as she passed us but we told her we didn’t mind.
In the end, the break was good for us. In our sitting time, we shared a Clif bar and swapped the water bladders in the backpack since one bladder was out of water. Once we were organised, we carried on climbing.
Fifth Pitch – 135 feet, 5.6, 4 pieces
The best thing that came of the rushing couple passing us was that we could see where the route went for this pitch. The straight vertical dike split in two different directions and we had to follow it to the right. The topo matched Mr. Rush’s path and I knew there was a bolt not far ahead so I felt ok about this one.
I said goodbye to Rob yet again and set off upwards. Before reaching the bolt, I managed to put a sling around a small knob poking out of the dike, making my own protection. I came over a rise and found the bolt Mr. Rush had anchored off, then had a good look at the route to the right before carrying on. The positive wall levelled out a bit which made me nervous but the good thing was there were a few pockets and cracks where I could place gear.
Over the next 80 feet, I think I did one of everything, putting a cam in a small pocket like Rob had earlier, slinging another small knob and jamming my biggest nut into a v-shape between two bulges in the dike. It was satisfying to find so much protection in a wall mostly barren of features. If I hadn’t been mentally drained from the stress of this climb, I might have actually enjoyed this pitch! It was easily the best one yet, I almost felt comfortable on it.
At the top, I got a great reward in a big head-sized hole in the wall right below the anchors. It meant that once I was safe and had an anchor built, I could sneak the shoe off my right foot and shove it in the hole. Every comment on every climbing forum suggests wearing the most comfortable climbing shoes you own because they really need to stay on for the entirety of the climb so you don’t risk dropping them. Rob had wisely chosen a pair of shoes he hadn’t worn before but were more comfy than his regular aggressive shoes. I’d done the same and wore the looser out of my two pairs but I’d never spent more than half an hour in them before and now I’d been in them for hours. My heels hurt and my toes were in agony, especially on my right foot. I weighed the risk and thought it worthwhile to take it off. I enjoyed the relief as I stood half-barefoot on the wall bringing my partner up.
Rob didn’t have any issues with the gear as he came and I was happy to see him again when he joined me at the neatest anchor I’d made yet.
Sixth Pitch – 120 feet, 5.4, 3 pieces
Rob took a long time at the anchor. He was quiet. Really quiet. It was making me squirm knowing he was uncomfortable and also knowing he wasn’t going to share his fears with me. Not yet anyway. We’d long since swapped gear and the backpack and still we sat on our safety lines, taking sips of water but mostly standing in silence. We’d looked at the topo and I knew Rob was trying to wrap his head around what was coming. A 120 foot pitch with no protection until 20 feet below the anchor, which also happened to be right above a roof feature. This is nothing short of fucking ridiculous and we both knew it.
I tried my best to reassure him, thinking that maybe I should offer to lead, but selfishly not wanting to. I tried the “easy climbing” tactic and told him about the possibility of using slings to wrap around the knobs of the dike like I had. Even though Rob said he didn’t like slings, I told him they were better than nothing. “Don’t commit to anything you don’t want to,” I said. “If you’re not comfortable, you can always rapel back down and I’ll give it a shot. “That only works if there’s gear,” Rob said. He was completely right. If there’s one thing we didn’t want to do (apart from falling), it was down climbing.
I was happy for Rob to take his time. Paula and Adam’s group seemed to have slowed down thanks to Mr. and Mrs. Rush so we didn’t have any need to go faster than we wanted. When he was ready, Rob climbed on. I was happy to see him sling a knob thirty feet up and even happier when it stayed in place as he climbed above it. I’d already decided that if a sling came out of place, I probably wouldn’t tell him about it.
He was out of sight pretty soon, which made me uncomfortable. It didn’t stop me yelling out to him every few minutes to let him know I was with him all the way. I don’t know if he heard me, I just hoped he was doing ok. The only words I heard out of him the whole climb were, “SARAH! I’M SAFE, YOU CAN TAKE ME OFF BELAY!” I shouted elation at him, so glad that he’d made it, just as Paula joined me at the anchor. We talked a bit about the rushing couple before I carefully put my shoe back on and made my way up to Rob.
He hadn’t even used the bolt twenty feet below him because he hadn’t seen it. He’d done the whole pitch placing his own gear, all of which had been solid. This was scary shit. When I reached him, we both felt good enough to take a photo. Despite our intentions, we hadn’t taken a single shot the whole climb, not wanting to distract ourselves, or smile when we really didn’t feel like it.
The whole time we’d been climbing, a magnificent view of the valley extended out behind us but neither of us took more than a glance, scared that we would lose all sanity if we thought too much about the scale of what we were doing.
Seventh Pitch – 100 feet, 5.2, 4 pieces
Rob had mentioned a few pitches earlier that I had an easy 5.2 pitch to end with. I felt a little guilty, thinking that I’d ended up with the easier half of the climbs but it didn’t work out that way. At Rob’s anchor, we deliberated over the topo a long time. According to my information, the route should have stretched out vertically above us but all I saw was unprotected slab for dozens of feet. What looked like the route described on the topo was actually twenty feet to our right. We debated a while, contemplating the different options and decided it would be best for me to downclimb/belay down and to the right to view the line over there and then move on.
With Rob taking my weight on the rope, I moved right and down towards the dike, looking for the climbing profile I expected. When I reached the dike, I was climbing and on for a big pendulum swing if I fell so I slung the first knob I could. I was confident this was the route and since there were no bolts to look for, I focussed on any pocket or other protectable rock feature I could find.
Once I reached a crack, I was disappointed to find it was too small to get my fingers into it, which meant it also wasn’t going to take any gear. My last piece was a ways below me now and after a bit of a panic searching for a gear placement, I knew I had to carry on to the next flake, another 10-15 feet above me. Rob knew this too and told me as much. I tried to forget about the big fall that I would experience at one slip of the foot and bursted my way upwards until, at full reach, I clasped the edge of the flake with my left hand. It was the closest thing to safety I was going to get. At this crack, I could put in a cam and I did so quickly to the sound of Rob’s hollers of positivity.
The rest of the crack was easy climbing with gear the whole way but I did my best not to overdo it. Knowing this was my last lead of the day, I came close to enjoying this pitch as well, but I wouldn’t quite call it that.
There was no anchor to highlight the “top” of this pitch but I found an obviously place to sit and build my own. Using three bomber cams and a fair amount of climbing rope, I built my first complete trad anchor on Snake Dike. Rob kept me company asking how I was doing. He had been joined by Adam again and I shouted down that I was building the anchor. Both Rob and Adam told me to take as long as I needed. I was grateful for their patience as I built, then adjusted the anchor a couple of times. It would be a horrible time to get something wrong now so I made sure it was bomb proof.
When I shouted down to Rob to come up to me, he did so and told me I’d done a good lead once he reached me. I was almost my normal self now and Rob was lightening up too, but we stopped ourselves from getting too carried away. We weren’t home free yet. Rob was happy with my anchor which made me very happy.
Eighth (and Final) Pitch – 100 feet, 5.2, 1 piece
Just like the last pitch had involved some route finding, so too did this one. We did a quick changeover before Rob decided to head left and find the 5.2 route to the top of the roped climbing. I trusted his judgement and watched him as he walked away left of me. When he was ten feet over, he placed a sling around a flake of rock on my suggestion before headin further left. When he had moved over a rise where I couldn’t see the rock in front of him anymore, I was happy to hear him say, “Oh yeah, this is definitely it.” I felt a wave of relief.
He carried on upwards and when his sling came loose, I decided to tell him. “Rob?” I said gently (he was close enough to me now) “Just letting you know that sling you placed has come out.” He wasn’t happy, but he calmly said, “Ok” then looked further up the wall for his next option. Soon after, he was out of my sight and the next time I saw him, he was standing on a very positive piece of rock with no hands and said, “Oh shit!” I thought he was talking about the sling, but no. He moved a little before explaining that he’d placed a cam underneath a roof he’d just ascended but forgotten to clip the rope to it. Not good. But he didn’t let it rattle him.
Out of sight again, I watched the rope above me for clues of his movements. Paula had joined me by now and had built an anchor using her own gear below me. Suddenly, the rope became taught and I couldn’t give Rob any slack. Paula was sitting on our rope. As I scrambled with her to get the rope free, I heard Rob yell out above me in what sounded like anger. I knew exactly why too. I shouted “SORRY!” as loud as I could, got the rope free and gave him the slack he needed. I just hoped it hadn’t been too bad of a pull.
Before Rob went out of hearing range, he shouted down to us that there were plenty of spots to build an anchor so Paula decided to pull down her anchor and carrying on climbing up to where Rob was to bring the rest of her party up. I sat alone on the rock again, waiting patiently for instructions from Rob. I found out later he’d been looking for a good anchor spot that was as high as possible. He’d been limited by rope in the end and had to make do with a spot a little lower down than he’d liked.
I couldn’t make out any of Rob’s shouts thanks to the wind that had picked up but Paula’s placement was perfect. She had set her anchor between me and Rob so she relayed messages between us and I did the same for her and her party below me. Eventually, I got the call from Rob/Paula to climb on. I took down my anchor and readied myself for my last bit of roped climbing. It was insane how far Rob had gone without protection and that he’d done the most complicated move over a roof with nothing thanks to a silly mistake. It didn’t matter now because he survived. I collected all his pieces of gear and gladly joined him at his anchor that was half-rock, half-tree. I didn’t care how long he’d taken to build it, it was a good anchor.
We started talking excitedly about how we’d made it, but we stopped ourselves. This was by no means the top of the dome.
The Scramble – 1000 feet, 3rd class, no rope
Rob took the backpack and took down his anchor while I coiled the rope and slung it over my back. This wasn’t the end of Snake Dike. Though there were no more bolts and no more cracks to shove cams into, we still had a 1,000 foot scramble to the reach the top of the dome. This section of the route has been labelled as a calf burner because of the steepness and we soon found out why. Paula’s group were off-rope about the same time we were so we all started the scramble together.
I asked Rob to stay close to me as we clambered over some square rocks before we started on the slab that would take us as high as we could go. He helped me over the only real technical bit with his words of encouragement before we moved on. It was nice to see Paula and her friend above us walking slowly but surely in zig-zags up the face of the rock. I switched between walking and going down on my hands and feet like a crab trying to walk straight ahead. We took it slow and steady and Rob kindly stayed near me though he was moving faster than me. It was hard on our lungs and on our legs, but most of all our feet were in agony. In my head, I took it one step at a time, staring down at the rock intently as I moved unless I had to look ahead to pick a line.
Finally, the gradient started to level out a bit and we could hear Paula shouting in excitement. She was at the top and I could see her! Me and Rob both started moving faster then. My partner was behind me a little so I slowed it down so we could reach the top together. A few dozen feet from our goal, I grabbed his hand and he squeezed it hard as we walked to the top, connected. Only once we reached flat ground did we let out all the tensions and worry we’d been holding in all day. We’d bloody made it.
All sorts of noises came out of my mouth, including screams, yells, all filled with elation and pain. Before taking our shoes off, we got a photo taken and having looked at it later, it captured the moment pretty well. The smiles were big, but I think you can see the exhaustion in our bodies. The relief I felt was immense. After all the “what ifs” and “I hope nots”, we had climbed our way to the top of Half Dome via one of the most famous climbs in the world and we’d done it together. It was now 5:30pm. We’d been on Snake Dike for EIGHT HOURS.
The Dome
With sweet relief, I edged my shoes off my feet and replaced them with my Tevas. I was surprised to see blood at the tips of my toes, probably from underneath my toenails. The cool wind blowing over my feet felt like an instant cure. Rob went barefoot as we walked across the saddle of the dome to the actual peak. There were only a few non-climbers up here that had taken the cable route late in the day.
As we walked, we finally looked around without fear. The smoke haze that had plagued the valley over the last few days was nowhere to be seen and the blue sky was dotted with white puffy clouds. We couldn’t have asked for a better day. At no point had I been too hot or too cold, but we both knew we were sunburnt, especially the back of Rob’s legs.
This was Rob’s first time at the top of Half Dome and it was a pleasure to share the experience with him. At the peak, we sat ourselves down and got out our “lunch” that I’d made the night before. Our spam, hummus and cheese wraps were anything but fresh but it was real food and we needed it. We munched on them and an apple each as we talked to walkers on the mountain about our experience and theirs.
Filled with some food, we decided we should probably get some photos to commemorate so we both had our time on the famous ledge of Half Dome, standing on the edge of nothing 2,000 feet above the closest piece of ground. The dome was quiet, it was a very special moment at the end of an intense experience and we tried to soak it all in.
All of the climbing parties head down off the dome around the same time. We found the cables that I’d ascended almost two years ago and I was interested to see that the tourist-version with the timber planks and posts to hold the cables upright looked pretty intimidating, especially considering non-climbers attempt the route on a daily basis.
Rob put his climbing shoes back on but I was determined to keep my toes free and in my Tevas. It was a little slippy, but by walking down backwards, I was able to keep my grip on the rock.
By the end of the descent down the cables that were at armpit height, my hands were strained from holding on and I was relieved to be at the real end of danger.
Some people consider the descent down the cables as the most dangerous part of the Snake Dike experience and so with that over, all we had to do was survive the walk down. We really allowed ourselves to celebrate now. Surely the chance of serious injury or death now was as slim as it is on a normal day.
The Descent – 9 miles, 4.5 hours, 2.5 of them in the dark
At the base of the sub dome, we saw a sign that told us how far we had to walk to return to Yosemite Valley. We didn’t like the number, but we remained chirpy. The walking on the hiking path around the opposite side of the dome was downhill and so we easily plodded along. Now that we were on the ground, we talked nonstop about the last eight hours down to the minute details of each pitch and the bits that scared us the most.
We both agreed that the climbing we’d just done was enough to make us think about our loved ones, especially once we were on the scramble. There were definitely times when I knew that if my foot slipped, my limbs would have been rearranged and it made me think of all the people I wanted to see again. Rob felt the same. As he rounded the top of the dome, he thought of his girlfriend Theresa and how much he wanted to see her again. I felt the same way about Dan, my parents and all the friends I’ve left back home and nearby.
The sun was disappearing slowly as we walked and we thought that if we were lucky we might make it down before dark, but that was a pipe dream. At around 8pm, still with four miles to go, the last shades of pink left the sky. We were dehydrated and hungry, but our spirits remained high. We’d taken just enough water to get us to the top of the dome but now we were on rations, taking only small sips when our mouths were parched. We were relieve to come to the top of Nevada Falls where we filled up a bottle and treated the water with aquatabs, which painfully meant we had to wait half an hour for the filtering tabs to do their work.
We didn’t really feel like stopping, but we forced ourselves to sit by the river and eat some trail mix before getting going again. There were only a few other head torches lighting up the trail, but we otherwise had the valley walk to ourselves for the second time today. Our legs and feet starting aching the last few miles, but we were not deterred. Rob knew he had a long drive ahead of him once we got back to the valley so we were not slowing down.
Our mouths moved almost as fast as our feet as we descended further, past Vernal Falls and the Ranger’s hut indicating we only had a mile to go to reach the valley floor. We were happy to reach the trailhead, but we weren’t home yet, we still had a mile of walking along the road to get back to Rob’s car. It didn’t take long, we were on the home straight now.
We made our way through the semi-permanent tents of Half Dome Village and after becoming a little disoriented, found our way to the parking lot where Rob’s car dutifully awaited us. We’d officially made it back to our starting point. The relief we felt was very real. It was 10:45 pm. Car to car, we’d been out for 18 hours, 25 minutes.
Roadworks?
Having a spot of reception at the bottom of the valley, we both got a quick message out to our loved ones to tell them we were ok, something we thought absolutely necessary considering what we’d just done. Rob drove us out of the valley but before we could see the Mini we’d let parked at a trailhead, we came across the last thing we expected – roadworks? We yelled and shouted at the ridiculousness of a guy stopping us with a lollipop so that three other dudes could measure out some points using string and a tape measure. The anger quickly subsided to hilarity as we sat there watching the incompetence of the men in fluoro garb. I commentated the whole scene before us, making the both of us laugh despite our tiredness.
When I ran out of material, I thought I could make better use of my time in the passenger seat by sorting our gear before we got back to the Mini. I clambered to the back and grabbed our climbing stuff, sorting through it all as Rob followed a completely unnecessary pilot car. We had to do a bit of navigation to get us back to where we wanted to go and in our tired state it took longer than was probably normal to make sure we were on the right track.
Half an hour after the roadworks, we were in the carpark of Tuolumne Grove, the Mini the only occupant of the otherwise abandoned lot. Rob parked up near the Mini and we quickly went through the back of his car to separate our gear. I was sure we hadn’t gotten everything but that didn’t matter, we could sort it out later. After our epic adventure, it was time for us to part ways. We hugged each other hard and split off. We’d already said everything on our hike down, so after a solid goodbye, I hopped in the Mini and drove off.
Safely Returned
I drove east along Tioga Pass to get back to camp. It was only an hour’s drive and it was thankfully uneventful except for the last ten minutes when my eyes struggled to focus on the road. My eyelids weren’t drooping from tiredness, it was just becoming harder and harder to make out the yellow and white lines on the road. I hung in there, listening to whatever radio I could get to keep me awake and finally, at midnight, I pulled into the campground. I looked briefly at the message board for a note from Kathi and Shannon but decided that was too hard so didn’t stop for a proper look.
Before we’d left, we did a time estimate and decided that if I wasn’t back at camp by 10pm, something had probably gone wrong. That said, there was nothing Kathi and Shannon could do about it until the next morning, but I felt bad that they might be worrying already. Thankfully, Shannon was sound asleep and Kathi came out to greet me as I parked. Verging on delirious now, I accepted her hug, then set about going to bed. I was hungry, but didn’t have the mental capacity to cook anything, so I just brushed my teeth, then stripped off inside my tent for a wet wipe shower before I slid into my double sleeping bags naked and looking forward to a solid sleep.
Epilogue
When I left Rob, he parked up in the Tuolumne Grove carpark for a powernap before starting his journey back to the Bay area. He had an un-missable day of work awaiting him in Palo Alto so he couldn’t afford to stay the night. After an hour of sleep, he drove off west into the night. For the remainder of the 5 hour drive, he drove as long as he could, then pulled over to nap when his eyes drooped too much. After many intervals of this, he came into the Bay Area a little ways after sunrise. Without any time to go home, he’d managed to find a spare shirt in the back of his car to wear to work and a cap suitably covered his mountain hair, but without a pair of pants, he had to stop in at Walmart for a pair of jeans. He presented himself at work at 8am Monday morning and no one was the wiser.
Rob, you’re a legend. You did all this (including the work bit) with a smile on your face and a laugh in your voice. You are a strong man and a great friend, there’s no one I’d have rather done this with. Let’s never do anything this crazy again…
…for a while at least.
