Bear Creek - Northeast Ridge

Thankfully, Greg did not notice that he carried most of the camp up by himself...

Rock Creek is a small, off-the-beaten-path campground.  A deep glacial lake surrounded by simple sites, bear boxes, and scattered white bark pine, western white pine, and mountain hemlock. We arrived tired.  Our time in Mammoth dealing with groceries, deferred back country passes, and logistics did not create much excitement.  But once we drove in the mood picked up.  It was a simple and beautiful spot to transition into Little Lakes Valley and climb Bear Creek Spire.

Vaughn made easy work of the scree fields...

The beginning of the hike was casual and the trail well travelled.  Once we broke off onto the climbers trail the terrain grew steep and the scree fields long.  But we were now all used to the altitude and we had all been gathering strength over the past week.  The air was cool and the sun was hot.  Other then the thickening smoke from a far away fire the day was perfect.  Within a few hours we were at Dade Lake setting up camp.

It was as cold as they look...

When we gathered for breakfast it was below 40 degrees.  We talked little and left one at a time to begin the approach around the lake and through the scree field.  I arrived after Greg and waited only a few minutes before Vaughn arrived.  There was no rush and we stared out into the valleys more then we spoke.  The smoke had not yet moved into the valley so the sky and air was still clear.

Beautiful rock and varied terrain...

We had decided the day before that we were going to free solo the climb, but brought a rope to repel and as a back up if we changed our minds.  We climbed cautiously so as not to knock rocks down onto each other and the wide terrain offered plenty of room to spread out.  Other then a couple of steep and gravelly sections the climbing was superb and we moved quickly up through the technical terrain.  Just before the summit was some scrambling across class four ridge until we reached the last technical pitch.  Once we reached the summit we took turns scaling the summit which was a 5.6 R boulder problem that would have pretty serious consequences if any climber was to blow the move.  

Amazing Granite

After the summit we sat and enjoyed the sun and view.  A solo climber, that came up across the East Ridge, joined us thirty minutes later.  He described the East Ridge as 5.6 S - the S standing for shitty and scary.  He had settled in the area several years ago and was able to provide us with all kinds of information about other climbs in the area.  He also provided us with a pretty good laugh once he left - he had a large rip in the front of his pants and was not wearing any underwear.  As he stood above me it was all I could do to not break out laughing (sorry, no picture).  Luckily, the view did not last...

Alpine ecstasy achieved...

The final "boulderish" move to the summit...  A non fall zone...

The descent was as smooth as the climb and soon we were at the bottom of the repel and heading down into the valley below.  Vaughn continued west across another ridge line and joined us a camp a few hours later after a relatively sketchy descent through some pretty scary terrain.  I knew that this might be the last alpine climb of my trip.  Time was running out and my hip, that had held up pretty well though out the summer, needed a bit of a break…

Bear Creek sits above camp catching the last of the afternoon sun...

Matthes...

According to our High Sierra Climbing guide, “Matthes Crest is a true knife-edge ridge - a long fin of rock sculptured by glaciers”.  Matthes is in Tuolumne Meadows - the high, eastern valley of Yosemite National Park.  Tuolumne is famous for less crowds and cooler weather then it’s big brother down valley.  It is also famous for lots of intermediate / moderate climbs for folks like us.  Since Matthes cannot be seen from the road the mass majority of the two million plus visitors that come through Yosemite never see it.  It is a beauty that has to be sought.  The climbing is relatively easy, but it can be a very tricky place to be if anything goes wrong.  There is no cell service, the trail head is six miles away, and it is a terrifying place to be if an afternoon electrical storm moves in. 

Vaughn the explorer...

Two days after leaving Vegas Greg and I were up on Matthes Crest.   It was a climb that we had both wanted to do for years.  The entire ridge is almost two miles long.  If a party were to belay each of it’s pitches one rope length at a time it could take up to ten hours to traverse.  We ended up combining the first two pitches into one and then simul-climbed the rest of the route after doubling up our sixty meter rope into a 30 meter double.  We completed the entire climb in three hours and the entire car to car trip took less then 10 hours - this included an amazing high alpine swim at Budd Lake.  

Pure Fun...

The "Think Tank"...

I am not one to remember all kinds of information about the specifics of any one climb.  Nor am I confident that we made all the best choices when we climbed Matthes Crest, but it sure did seem to go remarkably  smoothly.  To be truthful I barely read the description before we climbed the peak and depended on the rest of my party to navigate the approach through the high country.  But I will never forget this perfect alpine day...

Skinny dippin porn...  Sorry...

The Plague...

Arguably one of the best outdoor kitchens in the universe...

We found temporary camping for one night and then found premier camping for the rest of the week inside the park.  The Tuolumne Meadows campground (like many campgrounds across America) has several positives.  The biggest positives being it’s location (close to hundreds of climbs), it’s price ($30/each for the week), the free public transportation, and it’s relative security.  Another positive for me was being stationary.  For the past five weeks I had not stayed in one location more then two nights.

The negatives are more amusing then stressful.  The first is the massive amount of campsites.  There are 300 sites - 150 are reservation based and 150 are doled out on a first come first serve basis - we waited in line for about an hour.  Another negative is the constant campfires that never seem to stop smoking.  I know the campfire is a tradition that runs deep in most peoples camping consciousness, but to me it boarders on ridiculous.  First off, most of the folks that make fires, rarely make fires.  This leads to all kinds of trouble - hatchets in the hands of morons, fires that just smolder and smoke, and the fact that California is in the middle of a drought and the entire park is a tinder box.  One real negative that did develop was the plague...  That's right, the plague.  Apparently a couple of dead varmints were found, tested, and identified as carrying the plague.  The authorities decided to shut the campground down.  Luckily we had finished our stint in the park before they shut the campsite down and the park officials never realized that the varmints had caught the plague from our friend Brian.  He has this thing for rodents... 

Then there are the public bathrooms.  There are not enough of them, there too many of us, and there are posters warning everyone of the plague.  This leads to long lines in the morning that challenge most peoples’ ability to be civil.  It also shows how people really don't pay attention to warnings that the authorities post in plain sight.  I stood in front of the plague warning sign several times and never really thought about it.   Having to take a shit is a powerful drive that will cause people to act a little crazy, but signs that warn people that they are camping in an area that is infested with a potentially deadly disease seems to have no affect.  

The bathrooms are also public - which to some people means ‘not my problem’.   A select few think that dumping trash into the toilets, spreading toilet paper onto the floor, and cutting line to get to the toilet are all part of everyday life in the campground.  I wonder if being an asshole will increase one's chances of catching the plague?    

Little did Greg know that "Vaughn" was actually Satan... 

What Didn't Happen In Vegas...

Notice the drivers attention to the road...

8/4/15
Vegas is a place to get cheap flights and hotel rooms.  At least that’s what it is for people like me.  I don’t gamble and if I want to see a “show” of some sort I go to New York.  If I want to “party” I prefer to be in a place that I know the people I am partying with.  I have gambled in Vegas.  I have seen a show in Vegas (Grateful Dead UNLV 1991) and I have “partied” in Vegas.   I guess I just never understood the draw enough to be a return customer - other then to use its strategically placed airport, and its cheapish hotel rooms. 

I am a bit intrigued by the ‘something from nothing’ fairytale  that the city seems to exude.  To me the cities reputation feels like a giant, greased up spider web that people from all over the country slide into as some sort of right of passage.  Americans feed into the idea of Vegas.  It’s a place to win big (even though the mass majority of us lose), hook up with someone they barely know (while blind drunk), and generally do things they would never think of doing at home.  Of course Vegas always wins.  Once it has drained each visitor of their money (and integrity) it spits them out back to whatever shit ass town from which they come.     

Not that long ago Las Vegas was a tiny dessert town that became a rest stop for GI’s returning from the Pacific after World War II.  From there it grew into some sort of debauchery destination for shriners, bachelors and bachelorettes, retirees, and other thrill seekers that should have tried climbing instead of gambling away their pensions and bringing home sexually transmitted diseases to their girlfriend, wife, or significant other.  Las Vegas is a place that people make last ditch efforts to win big.  A place to beat the odds.  A place to, “go big or go home”.   “What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas”.  In other words don’t tell your friends how badly you got fleeced during your visit.  

My friends and I are probably the lamest visitors that had ever stepped into the city proper.  We didn’t want to partake in the usual debauchery and were more interested in what time the pool closed at night and what time it opened in the morning.  We did clink a couple beers together once the folks that flew in connected with the two of us that drove in.  Of the five of us only Brian and I knew everyone.  The other three (Greg, Vaughn, and Mark) had never met, but quickly became friends through common interests and close proximity - five guys in one hotel room will do that...  

Spearhead

Spearhead

At 1:00 AM I rolled into Denver after a rather hedonistic visit to Seattle.  Even though I was in the Pike’s Peak long term parking lot at the Denver International Airport it felt like home being in the van.  Since I was picking my buddy Greg up early in the morning I figured I would stay in the airport parking lot for the night.

While making breakfast the next morning one of the parking lot employees stopped in to investigate.  Rather then reporting me to the authorities he accepted a cup of coffee and a quick chat.  Other then bouncing my roof top storage box off the Alaskan Airlines sign in the arrivals area (I forget how tall the van is at times) the pick up went smoothly.  There was no damage to the Vansion, or the Alaskan Airlines sign, but it did generate a bit of excitement with the traffic authorities.  I am sure they will recover.  

It was great to have Greg on board.  Now climbing, scrambling, and all forms of mountain buffoonery could commence.  A quick shop in Boulder was followed by a hike into Lumpy’s Ridge outside of Estes Park.  We both needed an acclimation climb.  Greg needed to get used to functioning above 300 feet of sea level and I needed to shake out the cobwebs.  I hadn’t lead any routes that required “trad" gear since I busted my ankle on Cannon Cliff last September.

After our scouting mission we found a nice parking lot to pirate camp for the evening.  As we were prepping the van to go to bed an American Pit Bull came charging into our world to figure out who we were and why we in her owner’s lot.  Of course she was a bundle of love disguised as a bad ass.  The owner of the dog, and the lot, arrived next.  He had all kinds of questions about the van, where we were from, and then offered us his parking lot for the evening.  He was a bundle of love disguised as a bad ass as well.

Lumpy Cruiser...

On Friday we climbed a route called the White Whale.  The route was in the shade, had great rock, and was a classic cruiser.  If it were not for the thunder storm that rolled in at 11:00 AM it would have been a completely stress free climb.  The thunder created a small sense of urgency, but not enough to stop climbing - we figured it was easier to finish the route and walk off rather then rap.  We were also fortunate enough to meet a local climber that gave us some great advise on where we could camp for the night outside of Estes Park.  

Descending from the thunder...

After a great morning of climbing we headed into town to sort out emails, food, and scout out some free camping.  The spot we found was amazing.  It was high above town facing west on a US Forestry road.   Burritos and beer complimented the sunset as it rolled in the side door or the van…

Morning came early.  A speedy breakfast in the Glacier Gorge Parking Lot kicked off a six mile ascent to the base of Spearhead which was a bit of a shit show.  Not sure why we were surprised by the crowd.  It was a Saturday morning on an amazing (moderate) climb only hours from Denver.  As awesome as the Front Range is, the crowds can be challenge.  At first glance we counted over twenty climbers, but it turned out that there were only four parties in front of us that we could see.  Two long bottle-necks, one flying rock, and some painfully slow parties distracted, but could not dull, the shine of Spearhead.

Crappy Views from the North side of Spearhead

Other then the first two and the last two last pitches, the climbing was a scramble.  The last two pitches offered the most interesting climbing.  The “crux” was “a left facing dihedral that hangs over the edge of the northeast face”.  It was beautiful, airy and intimidating pitch that was far easier then it looked.  The next pitch was a grovel that really stumped the parties in front of us.  They went around the crux pitch, but had no choice but to climb through the grovel pitch.  We could hear confusion, dry heaving, and crying.  It took the party above us over an hour to get through it.  Greg climbed it quickly.  It was an awkward “wriggle” up through a left facing corner.  I did get stuck for a minute - it's tough being a fat kid with a backpack some days…

The top out looked like a collapsed pile of dominos.  Stepping onto the overhanging summit was an act of faith.  It felt like we were walking onto a Jenga pile in which the last piece might have been pulled.  Of course the summit was solid and it would take far more then the two of us to knock it over.  

The long descent down a nasty scree field, and the six mile hike from the base of the climb could enhance the taste of any beer.  But we had a long drive ahead of us.  We had to be in Las Vegas in a little over 24 hours to pick up three more of our friends.  So the beer would have to wait…  

The end of the long, steep, scree field...

The view from the summit...