The High Sierra: Go big, then back off

Like all terrible ideas which seem good at the time, we had both had a drink. Not much, but I'm looking for an excuse for my optimism. Or naivety, perhaps. I saw online that a permit for the Whitney zone had become available, suggested it to Marie, booked it, then went to sleep, safe in the knowledge that we would have a fun time camping in the mountains then climbing an easy multipitch. To see how wrong I can be, read on...

A week later is 'walk-in day'. I wake with a start, already apprehensive even before I've had chance to make sense of my unfamiliar surroundings. We treated ourselves to a motel so that we would be fresh and have time to prepare, but we had a lot to do so we didn't quite get the early night we got to sleep late and are bit stressed.

Marie rustling up some motel cuisine

I'm not quite sure what I've let myself in for. All I know for certain is that Marie definitely doesn't know either. Maybe that's for the best at this stage. Before leaving home we made some token attempts to get fit for the trip by repeatedly hiking up Win Hill with a heavy bag. Not being a fan of the standard index system of measurement, Marie had asked for all information about future walk-ins to be communicated in units of Win Hills. I checked the map and informed her that today would entail four Win Hills, both in terms of distance and more crucially, of elevation gain. On paper, this sounded fine.

Marie taking a short break, about half a Win Hill into the approach

It wasn't fine. We were not as acclimatised as we hoped, we were not as fit as we thought, the terrain was harder than we expected, and we were carrying too much unnecessary crap. It seems that each Win Hill here takes thrice the time and energy of a Win Hill back home. That is to say, we only made it three Win Hills on day one before stopping for the day and setting up camp. The only saving grace of this was that we were sufficiently exhausted and ravenous that we could eat the rank freeze dried meals we had with us with only minimal complaint.

To misquote Hardgrit: "it's hard to be angry, when the camping is so good"

Fortunately, Upper Boy Scout Lake is a beautiful place to spend the evening. After dinner I scout out the next bit of the approach and proclaim it to be simple and not far.

The next morning we resume the hiking. To help pass the time, I measure progress by when I would usually drink tea. Dawn turns to first cup, first cup to second, second to elevenses. It becomes clear that last night's confident proclamation was incorrect on both counts. By late morning, we are within striking distance of the start of the route, but it's clear to my rational mind that we are too late and are moving too slowly to safely do the climb. Not enough caffeine and too many Win Hills. Despite how obvious this is, it takes us a while for the reality to settle in our hearts. It's been a long case of taking our rack for a walk, although not the first time I've done so. As we walked back down Marie is, despite tired legs, surprisingly upbeat. This was her first time in big mountains, and it seemed to have made an impression on her.

More hiking the second morning

The impression remained a few days later. This time however, in the shape of legs DOMS for three days. Once these had recovered, we began considering another trip into the hills. From Tuolumne, where we were presently camping, the two obvious options are Cathedral Peak and Matthes Crest. Not one to back down from a challenge, Marie suggests we go for the longer and more remote Matthes Crest.

The guidebook time for the approach is 3-4 hours. Three hours in to the walk we are only half way there. Again, I have a plethora of excuses available but basically it comes down to us being too slow. Fortuitously, Cathedral Peak is only a brief detour away so we change plan.

Cathedral Peak

This is my third time doing this route, but given the multitude of variations and the fact that it's the first time for a decade, it still feels fresh. This time though, there's just enough time to tick off the neighbouring Eichorn's Pinnacle (which, as a delightful eggcorn, Marie has since been referring to as "Acorn's" pinnacle). With dusk on the horizon, I raced across the traverse before going up the arete to the summit. I must have been quick, because when it came to Marie's turn to climb, she missed the traverse out and set about an unknown superdirect up the blank face. Much shouting of directions later, Marie joined me on the top in time to sign the summit register.

The summit! Preparing to abseil. Thanks to Dave on Cathedral Peak for the video

True to form, we are slow descending. Slower than the sun which makes a dive for the horizon, so soon enough the headlamps are out and we're questing through the woods searching for the trail.