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It's 4am dammit!
...and my little
Suunto wristwatch is emitting an annoying series of
accusatory beeps from somewhere inside the car.
I deliberately hang the thing out of reach so I will
actually wake up. The 4am wakeup was
unfortunately my idea. Today's objective was
pretty aggressive for a noob climber -- the West Ridge
of Mount Conness. We were unsure of how long it
would take to climb the route, and we knew that
retreat from the route was difficult once we started.
As a result, an early start was mandatory. Part
of the issue with the West Ridge is that you
essentially climb the mountain first from the east,
then descend nearly 2,000' down the west side to the
base of the route. Then, of course, you climb
the mountain again (and descend -- again!).
We left the Sawmill
campground at 5am under clear starry skies. Our
headlamps were on and our heads were down. Hands
were in pockets to guard against the early morning
chill. I successfully led the way out of the
maze of trails leading from the campground, only to
fall into Lee Vining Creek in a poor attempt to reach
the opposite bank. My right shoe now soaking
wet, I continued up the trail with
 Misha
and T-Bo trailing behind. Venus was putting on
quite a show in the pre-dawn eastern sky, blazing a
trail the sun would soon follow. But as luck
would have it, some wisps and lines of clouds began
forming over the Mono Basin just as the sunrise hit (see
photo). "Red sky at morning, sailor take
warning". By now it was 6:15 and we were 1,000'
up the approach. Concern began to mount that the
weather would turn out like yesterday -- starting off
perfect but ending in a fit of thunder and pelting
graupel. We hiked on, and the sun dazzled us
with its illumination of the east-facing cliffs of
Conness, White and False White Mountain.
We slogged onward up
the never-ending approach hike. With little
sleep last night, I began to question whether I would
have the energy to complete the actual climb, much
less the damn approach. And did I mention the
wind picked up above 11,000' and we began freezing our
nuts off?
To make a long story
short, the clouds and wind only deteriorated so we
made the decision to bail on our plans for the West
Ridge. We did, however, continue up to the
summit to justify our slog up the mountain. T-Bo
enjoyed the views, while Misha and I -- summit junkies
that we are -- sat and thumbed through the summit
register. Among the many familiar names in the
register (including our own), we saw one rather
extravagant entry (complete with pre-printed vanity
stickers) from two people operating under the
pseudonyms "Snow Nymph" and "Cal Hiker". Yes,
the very same folks
we ran into the night before at the Whoa Nellie
Deli.
The descent was cold
but actually quite enjoyable. It was much better
than my descent down this same route
back in July when I had to stop for a quick
trailside catnap due to sheer exhaustion. Over
some burgers at
TPR, we toyed with the idea of climbing Northwest
Books on Lembert Dome. But driving back over the
pass, T-Bo was already passed out in the back of the
car and I just didn't have it in me. So I voted
to just call it a weekend and head back to the Bay
Area. A final note for those who make the
SF-Yosemite drive regularly -- we discovered a random
taco shop in Oakdale that is a pretty satisfying
knock-off of the world-famous
Roberto's taco shops in San Diego (this place got
me through college). The Oakdale spot --
cleverly named "Robertito's" -- offers up the same
basic menu of carne asada tortas, rolled taquitos with
heaps of guac, and tasty hot sauce. It's located
just east of Taco Bell, on the opposite side of
Yosemite Ave. Check it out.
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