On June 29, 2000, our crew planned to hike to the top of Half Dome—just
three days earlier, we completed our hike out of
The Grand Canyon, and now
we were preparing for yet another strenuous dayhike. Our legs were still
sore from the canyon, but we didn’t let that stop us—we were determined to
see Yosemite's grandeur from the top of its most famous landmark. The only
question remaining was who would be strong enough, mentally and physically,
to actually complete the hike?
The six of us (Karabeener, Cupcake, Dauster, Pick, Kat and Weisey) had
pulled together and conquered The Grand Canyon, but the strenuous hike was
taking its toll on our crew—Kat was definitely in no shape to go on another
daylong hike. The Grand Canyon hike had severely damaged her feet—she had
horrible blisters and black toenail on both big toes. In fact, her toes were
so swollen that she could barely walk, let alone hike to the top of a
granite dome. Karabeener was also reeling from her encounter with the
canyon—she was just beginning to recover fully from heatstroke, and she was
in no mood to tempt fate on yet another grueling trail. That left just four,
the final four, so to speak, and two more hikers, Cupcake and Dauster, were
wavering in their conviction—we'll say it was out of loyalty to their
"fallen" comrades that they opted to stay in the valley, rather than the
fact that they "wussed out", but stay they did. Okay, that leaves just Pick
and I to carry the NBH flag, metaphorically speaking, to the summit—would we
make it?
The night before we attempted to climb Half Dome, we sat in our tent
cabin at Curry Village excitedly planning our route for the next day. The
route we were considering to the top of Half Dome was 16.4 miles roundtrip
and had an elevation gain of 4800 feet—a long haul under any circumstance,
but for muscles already sore and fatigued it was beyond daunting. After
researching our trail options, we decided to take the John Muir Trail (JMT)
up, and the Mist Trail down. Content with our choices, we settled into our
bunks—setting our alarm for 4:00am, ensuring an early start in order to give
our tired legs plenty of daylight in which to complete the hike.
At 4:00 am, we awoke to our alarm, climbed over Cupcake—who was
sleeping peacefully—he mumbled his good wishes in a dreamy haze, we then
grabbed our packs and headlamps and headed for the showers. As we walked
past Kat, Karabeener, and Dauster's tent, all was silent, and Pick and I
both expressed how much we wished they were all hiking with us—maybe next
time. After a quick shower, we headed for Happy Isles.
The early morning darkness closed in around us, and our headlamps cast
an eerie glow on our surroundings as we walked silently along the path—the
morning air was crisp and invigorating, a good sign that the day was going
to be pleasant. Soon, we arrived at Happy Isles and began hiking up the
trail to the Vernal Falls Bridge. After about a mile, we reached the bridge
and stopped to awe at the force of the Merced River. The morning light was
just starting to give everything a bluish-gray hue—conveying a sense of
serenity and silence, especially since we were the only people on the trail.
Upstream, Vernal Fall cascades 317 feet over the lower step of the Giant
Staircase. A little farther down the trail there is a wooden structure that
houses a bathroom, a water fountain, and later in the day, tons of people.
From this point, the trail starts to climb, gaining some elevation as it
passes the junction with the Mist Trail at 0.9 miles—the Mist Trail, another
trail that leads to the top of Vernal Fall, is a steep, slippery and wet
route that we felt was better left for the return journey. We continued
following the JMT, climbing up the switchbacks towards the brink of Vernal
Fall—pausing briefly for a view of another waterfall, Upper Yosemite Fall,
across the valley in the distance.
Shortly, 594 foot Nevada Fall comes into view, providing a
heart-stopping panorama that is typical of the grandeur of Yosemite. In a
few more miles, 3.5 from the trailhead, you will find yourself standing on
the bridge that spans the tumultuous waters of the Merced River, watching as
it plunges over the edge and down into the valley—an intimidating sight,
particularly because of the deafening roar of the rushing water. As we
marveled at the force of Mother Nature, we munched on some baby carrots and
rested our legs—renewed, we continued up the trail, passing a rest stop
where there is a bathroom on the left side of the trail.
From the rest stop, the trail becomes rather steep for about a mile,
but then you get closer to the meadow and it starts to level out—the path
from here to the Little Yosemite Valley campground can be quite dusty, but
it is a welcome rest to the legs since it is relatively flat. Along this
portion of the trail, be sure to take time to walk over to the Merced River,
which is less turbulent at this point—the waters are now quiet, dark, and
deep. It is a nice divergence from the strenuous hike, to stand on the banks
of the river and watch as trout swim in its emerald waters. After enjoying
the serenity of the river waters, head north out of the Little Yosemite
Valley, passing a shortcut version of the Half Dome Trail—you are now nearly
5 miles from the trailhead.
The trail climbs steeply from this point, briefly following Sunrise
Creek, and then it meanders through a beautiful, aromatic forest of pine and
cedar—lush and full of life, a deer and her fawn even cross the trail a few
yards in front of us. We stop once again to have a quick snack—quick,
because if you stop for very long the mosquitoes get a snack too. Just up
ahead, a sign marks the Half Dome Trail junction—now 6 miles from the start,
it is time to bid adieu to the John Muir Trail if your goal is the summit.
After hiking for what seemed like forever, the trail began to swing
westward, finally rewarding us with a view of Half Dome—it looked so far
away, but at least we could now see our goal. The trail then swings south,
bringing you face to face with the sparsely timbered shoulder of Half Dome.
From this point, the trail becomes rockier as you leave the forest and head
closer to the granite outcrops. As you climb closer to your goal, you soon
come to a sign that warns the hiker of the danger of lightning, advising the
hiker to stay away from the summit if storms are looming—after all, the last
place you want to be in a thunderstorm is on top of Half Dome, or climbing
up the metal cables. Heed the warnings—the summit is not worth your life.
The views along this section of the trail are incredible—worth every
aching muscle in your body! Speaking of sore muscles, get ready—you will
soon reach the base of the quad-burning, knee jarring, granite steps that
lead you up the shoulder to the saddle—the top of the steps become so steep
that there is a cable placed along the edge to help you pull yourself up.
Just a taste of what is yet to come! After a long and torturous climb, I
finally forced myself up the last step, where I found myself standing at the
top—taking in the intimidating view of Half Dome. 
Pick
and I were so excited, that we practically sprinted across the saddle to
tackle the cables. What are the cables you ask? Well let me tell you—the
cables are what you shakily use to hoist your tired body up the side of Half
Dome. These cables, attached, one on each side, to poles that are
approximately four feet tall, form a kind of ladder that is three feet
wide—punctuated by 2x4 planks spaced about every five feet or so for
footing—hard to explain, just check out the pictures. They punctuate the
last 400 feet of the dome, clinging to the nearly 45-degree pitch—making for
a climb reminiscent of a Batman episode. Needless to say, the cables are not
an undertaking for those with a fear of heights. In addition to raising your
shackles, the cables can also wreak havoc on your hands. At the base of the
cables there is a pile of old gloves for anyone to use to protect their
hands from the cables—my advice is to bring your own like we did, but
regardless, they are there if you need them. From the base of the mighty
monolith, we looked up at the massive dome, visualized the route, put on our
gloves, took a deep breath, and started climbing.
The infamous Half Dome cables—what a sight! As we stood at the base of
the dome, we could see that the traffic going up was light, so we knew we
wouldn’t have to worry about too many on cable collisions or traffic jams.
When we reached the cables, we could see that they start out relatively
steep, becoming much steeper towards the middle of the ascent. By the time
we reached this point, several people were really struggling to pull
themselves up—upper body strength is a definite plus. Another aspect of the
climb that creates a challenge is the thin air—the combination of altitude
and exertion make this a formidable undertaking! The altitude makes you
thankful for each brief break that you get when you stop on one of the 2x4's
to let people pass or to let others get ahead. At these rest stops,
remember, don't try to stay right behind the person in front of you—let them
get to the next plank, then as they leave you proceed to that board, and so
on. Then, just when you think your arms are going to give out and your lungs
are going to explode, the grade evens out a little, and you can see the top
getting closer—then finally you are standing on the top of Half Dome!
Half Dome, the quintessential symbol of Yosemite, can claim its summit
as the goal of just about every hiker who has ever set foot on a trail. Its
popularity comes as no surprise, especially when you see the incredible view
from the top—the whole valley lies spread out below you in a 360-degree
panorama—breathtaking! It is, without doubt, one of the most rewarding hikes
that we have ever done. We quickly staked out a little piece of granite
where we could sit down and rest and take in the scenery—marmots and
squirrels were on the prowl for backpacker lunches, and we watched them
sneak up on the unsuspecting hikers and thieve some goodies. After we rested
for a while, and ate some lunch, we decided to break out the cell phone—we
had to share our accomplishment with someone and who better to call then
mom! We dialed the number and when mom answered, we informed her that we
were calling from the top of Half Dome—she loved it! After
a brief rest, we walked all over the flat summit and took photos—one of the
best photo opportunities is a pose on top of diving board rock, a slab of
granite that protrudes over the side with nothing but 4800 feet of air
between you and the ground. Soon, we heard the faint rumble of distant
thunder—time to descend!
It was a mad rush to get off the summit before the storm got closer—talk
about traffic jams! Oh, and the cables were even more intimidating on the
way down—Pick managed with no problem, but I, on the other hand, slid on my
backside a few times. Luckily, we were able to make it down off the dome
before the storm hit, and soon we started heading into the shelter of the
forest. Before we entered into the tree cover, we turned around and took one
last look at the granite monolith—what an adventure! We congratulated each
other and continued on our way. We had summitted at about noon and now we
would try and make it back to Happy Isles before dark.
As we entered the woods it started to rain, and it was beautiful to see
all the plants glistening with water droplets. Pick decided to put her
poncho on right away, but I opted to leave it off for a while longer, hoping
that the rain would let up, but it soon started raining a little harder. I
gave in and put on my poncho. The trail was pretty steep going down, and the
rain made it pretty slippery in spots as well, but thankfully, it let up in
about 30 minutes. At this point, the trail was really starting to get the
best of me—my knees were giving me trouble, and they hurt so bad that I had
to walk backwards down the steeper sections of the trail. I know people
probably thought I was crazy, but hey, it stopped the pain. Pick would have
to stop and wait on me quite a bit, but she was a good sport about it, as
always. When we got back to the rest stop where the bathrooms were we
switched over to the Mist Trail—providing a shorter route than the John Muir
Trail, but steeper—not what my knees wanted to hear!
If we ever do this hike again we will take the Mist Trail up and the John
Muir down, much easier on the knees. The Mist Trail has a large section
comprised of steep granite steps, and it continues this way for many
switchbacks—each step down felt like a knife being jabbed into my knees, the
pain was excruciating! Even Pick complained about how hard this trail was on
the knees, so you know it was bad. Could anything make up for the pain being
inflicted on us?—you had better believe it! When we finally reached Vernal
Fall, having already passed Nevada Fall, the sun was shining its rays
through the mist that is the trail’s namesake, and you know what you get
when those two elements combine—RAINBOWS! Glorious rainbows! They were all
along the trail, framing every view as you turned to look back towards the
falls. In addition, the mist rolls along the base of the falls until it
gently collides with the rock cliffs, bringing with it a refreshing blast
for the tired hiker.
After a few more miles of hiking, we finally reached the trailhead and the
end of our adventure—Cupcake had hiked up part of the trail to meet us, and
getting to finish the hike with him by our side was a welcome surprise. Kat,
Karabeener, and Dauster were waiting down by the road, eager to greet us
upon our return. After being welcomed with congratulations and hugs, we all
caught the shuttle bus back to Curry Village—sharing our Half Dome story
along the way. We could now mark another hike off our wish list—not only
that, but we had accomplished it just 3 days after hiking the Grand Canyon.
It was about 5:00pm when we finished our hike, thirteen hours from when we
started—including an hour on the top—and despite our exhaustion, we were
thrilled with our achievement. Perhaps one day we will have the opportunity
to climb Half Dome again, and if we do, we will not hesitate—it was that
great!
