View upvalley from Shadow Lake |
View across Ediza Lake |
The Plan
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Green- route up, Red- route down (Banner right, Ritter Left) |
1) Drive down Friday evening, and
get to the Agnew Meadows trailhead by 10 pm or so. Maybe hike in a ways and
camp, or just pass out at the trailhead <potentially incriminating>. Get
down there early enough to get some reasonable amount of sleep.
2) Get an alpine start (maybe 4:30
am or so?).
3) Hike in and climb Banner Peak
(12,942ft) and Mount Ritter (13,149ft) on Saturday, dropping off camping gear
unneccessary for climbing at a suitable site near Ediza Lake.
4) Camp at the lake Saturday night.
5) Get up early, climb Clyde Minaret
and do a ridge traverse to a neighboring Minaret, and hike out to the Devils
Postpile trailhead.
6) Take the Forest Service shuttle
back to the Agnew Meadows trailhead, get in car, meet up with a friend in
Mammoth, drink a beer and eat a big pile of food, and drive home.
Here’s a little poetic inspiration
from John Muir, on his experience climbing Ritter (presumed to be the first
ascent):
After scanning its face again and
again,
I began to scale it, picking my holds
With intense caution. About half-way
To the top, I was suddenly brought
to
A dead stop, with arms outspread
Clinging close to the face of the
rock
Unable to move hand or foot
Either up or down. My doom
Appeared fixed. I MUST fall.
There would be a moment of
Bewilderment, and then,
A lifeless rumble down the cliff
To the glacier below.
My mind seemed to fill with a
Stifling smoke. This terrible
eclipse
Lasted only a moment, when life
blazed
Forth again with preternatural
clearness.
I seemed suddenly to become
possessed
Of a new sense. My trembling muscles
Became firm again, every rift and
flaw in
The rock was seen as through a
microscope,
My limbs moved with a positiveness
and precision
With which I seemed to have
Nothing at all to do.
Muir has a more detailed account of
his climb that I just now read in the book Mountains of California. Eh, it’s not like I’d trust that old badger with
route beta anyway…
Execution
1) I left late, opting to try out
the 25 foot slip n' slide (ending into a creek swimming hole) with the
landlord's family that was set up in anticipation of their daughter's birthday
party the next day. And I took my sweet time packing. I got to the trailhead at
1:30 am. I then rolled out my sleeping bag in front of the car <definitely
incriminating> and tried to get some sleep and salvage some of the next day.
I was ravaged by mosquitoes all night-very little sleep.
Grade: D-
2) I reset my alarm to try and give
myself a little sleep. 5:45 am. I frantically finished packing from the back of
my car amidst the swarm of mosquitoes, feeling like hell from no sleep and a
long drive. I realized later at my backcountry camp that in my haste, one of my
camp sneakers and my book had fallen out of the backpack and into the mess in
the back of my car.
Grade: D+
View of Thousand Island Lake from Banner's summit |
Looking up the gulley from the col |
It started with a steep snowclimb up
a narrow gulley. The debris fan and recent-looking wet slide at the bottom of
the climb had me on high alert, and I went up the snow as quickly as I could. Additional
motivation came from the building clouds in the sky, not yet menacing, but
getting fluffier by the moment. The snow was really getting soft this late in
the day, and especially so since it hadn't gotten very cold the night before
(hence the planned alpine start). About half way up the chute, I opted to move
onto the rock, climber's right, and scramble up to the traverse. It was hard to
tell where the right traverse was, and I ended up crossing over the chute a
little too early, having to scramble another 100 ft or so up rock, climber's left
of the chute before I got to the correct one.
View from the start of the traverse |
The traverse looked burly, I won't
lie. I eyed it up for a while before I engaged. It was maybe a 100 yard
horizontal traverse to the base of an narrow, 45 degree chute that angled up to
the summit ridge. There were tracks from a climber going across, maybe a day or
two old. I knew from the online route description that there was a good rock
ledge there, but it was buried in snow now. But the snow felt really solid as I
stepped into it- good news, because there was only steep, rocky cliffs and
small bands of snow for about 1000ft below me.
The snow was solid and good, until
it wasn't anymore. I took a few more steps, still feeling good purchase beneath
me, and my mountaineering axe still finding good purchase. Three more steps,
and the snow was sloughing off below me. One more step. Slough. No axe
purchase. Look down. Nope. No way to self-arrest if I were to start sliding
with the snow. Stop. Analyze.
View down from the traverse |
Damnit. The snowy ledge was in the
shade now, but it must have been in full sun all morning. Total shit. I still
had another 30 feet or so until the ledge got wide and started to climb up to
the summit ridge. I looked around some more, and saw that there was a clump of
rocks sticking out from the snow, only three steps ahead and just a little
downslope of my current position- relative security compared to trying to
toe-point in to slick, snow and ice covered, loose rock. I ever so carefully
made my way over, kicking at the snow on the “ledge” to send it plummeting down
the near-vertical rock below, without taking me along for the ride. Letting it
fall first let me find slightly better footing, and I made it to the first rock
outcropping. From there, I was able to carefully traverse snow patches to other
rock outcroppings, linking over to the final, short snow climb to the summit.
It was a really neat line, but after my troubles with the snow on the
horizontal traverse, I wasn’t feeling very trusting of snow at the moment, so I
opted to stick to some class 4ish scrambling up the exposed rock that formed a
sort of arĂȘte. When I finally came out on top of the summit ridge, I was
surprised to see a group of six on the summit just a hundred yards away.
On the summit of Ritter |
I mentally brushed myself off and
quickly boulder-hopped my way to the summit, feeling relief and exultation from
safely making my second summit for the day. I chatted briefly with the group
there before they went down ahead of me. I took time to snack a bit and
scribble in the summit log, and started following the other party down the
“front side” of the mountain, along the standard route. Summit #2 success!
Grade: A-
The descent was quick but a little
tricky- since I hadn’t climbed the route, I wasn’t fully sure of the best path
down to avoid getting cliffed out (some of the bomber snow with nice, tempting,
long glissade potential ended in a steep cliff band at the bottom). I had a
picture of the mountain with the route drawn on it, but it was easier to just
follow the advice of the party that had already climbed that route. There was a
fair amount of traversing between short glissades to spit me out in the proper
slot. The other party was quite impressed with my glissading prowess. I must
have an aerodynamic (snowdynamic?) ass. It only rained and hailed lightly for a
few minutes as I neared my campsite, but never got serious despite the
now-threatening appearance of the clouds overhead. I made it back to the
campsite by around 6:30 pm. Not bad!
Grade B-
Clyde Minaret catching the last rays of the day |
Clyde Minaret |
5) I woke up a little later than
intended, catching up on some much-needed sleep. I ate a breakfast of granola
and summer sausage, and gagged down some cold, instant coffee from the comfort
of my sleeping bag. I packed up relatively quickly, and was motoring down
toward the lake by about 7:30 – an hour behind schedule. I’d looked over the
route information for getting to, and up, Clyde Peak the night before. The
other party informed me that the upper bridge was out at the top of the lake,
and that the river crossing would be sketchy at best, so I opted to walk around
the bottom of the lake and use the existing bridge. This added some time. And
the approach, though very cool, took longer than expected. It was made more
interesting than expected with a traverse of a pretty damn steep snow slope
above a partially frozen, aptly-named Iceberg Lake. By the time I got to the
base of Clyde, it was getting pretty late. 10:30 maybe? And it was Sunday, and
I wanted to get to the car by mid-afternoon so I could meet a buddy for food
and drink, and not have the 5 hour drive home put me in too late.
Riegelhuth Minaret |
After a few minutes of internal
deliberation, I opted to climb the Riegelhuth Minaret (10,560ft) instead- it
was smaller, but it was a stark idyllic feature, a thumb-shaped pinnacle that
towered over Minaret and Cecile Lakes. It had a dramatic, aesthetic presence,
and the route description called it a short but challenging class 4 scramble.
That’s my cup of tea. Well, the traverse to it took some time, but boy does
snow really let you go almost anywhere in the mountains! That’s why I really
love snow climbing, it opens up new possibilities for exploration all around
you.
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A rough route sketch |
The climb was indeed challenging and very exposed. I would say that 4th
class is being a little soft- I would say there were some low 5th
class moves, made weightier by the somewhat stark exposure and loose nature of
the rock. I think descending took longer than climbing, with several awkward
down-climbing mantles and some high-consequence, “techy” maneuvers to get you
down a couple of the sections. All in good fun though. I had one more steep
snow descent from the saddle between minarets down to the lake, having to
plunge-step the first half of it because it was steep and narrow and bordered
by unforgiving rock. I got in a good glissade on the bottom half though, and
then started my hike out toward the Devil’s Postpile trailhead.
The descent from the saddle below Riegelhuth |
The Minarets across Minaret Lake... Clyde looking very imposing |
The walk out seemed like it took forever
and a day. It was longer than I’d expected, and it got pretty hot once I got
down below the snow. To top it off, my mountaineering boot had, in classic
style, chewed the back of my right heal into oblivion. I wanted nothing more
than to get those damned boots off. I think it was 7 miles from the lake to the
trailhead. Not bad, but I was over it at this point.
Grade: B+ (Points deducted
for last minute route change)
6) I walked out to the trailhead,
relieved to see I’d caught the shuttle perfectly- it was just sitting there,
idling, waiting to take me back to my car where my chacos and trailmix waited
in anticipation of my return. NO SUCH LUCK CRACKA! Despite all the internet
advertisement of mandatory shuttles, and the signs at the entrance station,
etc., it turned out the shuttle was in fact NOT yet running, and the shuttle in
front of me was one for a private resort in the opposite direction I needed to
go. A bit exasperated after learning the road walk would be 7 more miles to my
car, I started harassing tourists for rides. A nice, middle-aged French couple
who barely spoke English ended up giving me a ride to my car after about half
an hour.
I got back to my car, took the damn
boots off, got a hold of my buddy, and drank a cold Pacifico and ate some
delicious Mexican food. Hopped in the car, and got home by around 10pm.
Not bad!
Grade: B- (Points deducted
because, well, ya got lucky with the ride, kid. Plan better next time, idiot)
Overall
Execution Score: B-
Overall
Route Quality Score: A
Overall
Personal Satisfaction Score: A+
Weekend
Optimization Score: A+
Summary: I had a great time scrambling around in the High
Sierra- good for the mind, body, and soul. Get out for some mountain play!
View from the summit of Ritter, Yosemite Valley in the distance |
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