With zen-like state partially achieved, we ventured forth to tackle the Crazy Ass Rock, aka Half Dome. This was the moment everything had been building up to. Nothing in the previous 6 hours could have hinted at what we were facing now and I have to admit, sitting it out seemed like a perfectly viable option. "You guys, I could just stay here with Bambi."
But I was met with support and reassurance. "No one has EVER died from the cables. Yet." God damn. You're right. That IS reassuring!
A virtually vertical wall of sheer granite.
What you see are 2 lengths of steel cable with wood slats every 10-12 feet or so. Theoretically, climbers use one cable to go up, the other to go down. The problem is, with going down such a precarious task, many people use BOTH cables. This in turn causes a major clusterfuck and can slow the going up process to a grinding halt. Imagine just hanging out there until the entire Cal Berkeley Womens Crew Team made their way down while you were already halfway up. Personally, I found going up to be physcially exerting but not a psychological challenge as long as I kept my eye on the granite. Eventually the top was in sight and with a few final hoists we found ourselves at what seemd like that afternoon, the Top of the World.
"VICTOREEEEE!!"
Happy, but not so secretly wishing a helicoptor could bring us back down.
Although the climb up was smooth, I cannot say the same for the climb back down. The day was slipping away from us, and the challenge for our large group(14 people) would be to make it back to camp not too far past nightfall; but most importantly, before the pizza counter closed at 9pm. I found going down the steel cables was strategically easier but also a bit less controlled. I held onto both cables and basically let my feel slide down the granite slide while my hands were used almost as brakes. Facing the wall, I could almost forget how high up I was. But as someone's battery pack fell out of their backpack and tumbled past me, my eyes instinctively followed the path of the battery. Bad move. I saw my surroundings and basically freaked out. Frozen with fear, I could not catch my breath and tears streamed down my face. Classic anxiety attack. Thank the stars for my little brother as he was right behind me and talked me through it.
Once off the Crazy Ass Rock, we knew the objective was speed. So a handful of people started back at a brisk pace. I needed to make a pit stop but eventually followed suit down the hill. As I began to leave behind the 7 or so people who moved at an almost ridiculously slow speed, I heard the pitpat of feet running down towards me. My brother, being inspired by the closing time of the Curry Village dining hall, came bursting down the hill doing an odd Charlie-Chaplin-on-speed move, all the while blurting out "pizza pizza pizza" like the Little Caesars mascot. It was almost funnier than seeing this:
I SWEAR to god those aren't mine!
So this is where things get crazy. My brother who only hours earlier saved my life, has now abandoned me and left me to fend for myself. You see, he never slowed down and I was never able to catch up. Unfortunately, my efforts at catching up also put the slow group farther and farther behind me. The woods which were quiet and peaceful, now seemed eerie and menacing. I was afraid to stop, preferring not to be a sitting duck for a bear. ("Maybe I should dump my food in case a bear follows me... No No. I may be stranded here and will need the food to survive!") I figured I would just book down that mountain at the fastest pace I could manage.
One last photo before darkness fell and my demise seemed imminent.
One thing I have learned during this trip. That mountain gets Fucking DARK. The glorious Autumn Moon that had lit the valley floor just the night before was gone. I only had the glow of my little flashlight to light the way as the sun set. But the trail down was manageable and I felt I was making good time. I had no idea how far ahead my brother and the others were ahead of me... but when I saw a sign that said 2.3 miles to Yosemite Valley, I felt I could carry on. "It's only 2 miles. You can do it. You can do it!".... Well, I made the mistake of looking up around me as I was walking and saw how Dark it was once I hit the canopies of trees. PITCH as they say. And when I heard the rustling of leaves to my left, I screamed like a Little Bitch and darted back up the hill to the first clearing I could find. So there I sat at the widest open switchback I could find and sat down on a rock waiting for the slow group to show. I could occasionally see their headlights at the top of the mountain... glowing orbs bobbing up and down as if it were the 7 Dwarves up there. By my estimation, they were a good hour back. I had no choice but to wait.
After about what seemed like 15 minutes, I saw 2 lights making their way down the trail towards me. I couldn't make out their face and could only pray they were friendly. "Hello? Are you a part of my group??"
Well, they weren't but Doug and Andrea welcomed me to join them on their way down. We sidestepped all the fresh Bear Piles and made it the last 2 miles in good time. I found my brother and K waiting for me at a bathroom stop (evidently they radio'd back and FINALLY realized neither groups knew where I was.). They told me their own stories of bear run-ins which made me only the teeny tiny bit more forgiving towards them for leaving me behind.
So. All in all. No harm, no foul. Our feet hurt, our everything hurt. But we got our pizza, we have stories to tell, and I learned to live without hot water for 2 days. I have a little perspective now and can laugh about it all. We can reminisce about our favorite moments and our favorite overheard moments, "Honey, the squirrel licked my camelback." "So this area looks like the all those crazy episodes of Star Trek where a crazy ass Ferengi comes out to attack us."
I reckon the question is, would I do this again? And you know what... sans the solo hike in the dark? I'm stupid enough to say yes.
Camping's not so bad.....
