Alta Peak

[lizolas]

Alta Peak - Someday I Might Summit Something

November 18 & 19, 2017

Planning a backpacking trip with someone for a third date is possibly not the best idea I’ve ever had. By far not the worst, but also not the best. I think by that point it wasn’t really a date though. The someone in question had just moved to California a month ago, and despite living on the road for a year of climbing, he had only spent time in the Valley, not the High Sierra. Therefore my concerns about snow above 8,000’ were disregarded, and we decided to climb Alta Peak in Sequoia National Park. At 11,204’, it was well above what seemed to be the 8-9k snowline for much of that portion of the Sierra, but I assumed he’d found a weather report indicating there wouldn’t be much snow where we were. My warnings were less certainty and more erring on the side of extreme caution and assuming the worst. Someday it would be nice to actually have some confidence in what I think conditions will be like for a trip.

After agreeing on Alta Peak instead of a Yosemite backpacking loop, we headed out at 4:30 Saturday morning, arriving at the museum for permit registration about 9:30. From there, we headed back to the Alta Peak Trailhead and after quickly sorting out who was bringing what gear, we set off at 10:30. The plan was to go to Pear Lake, stash stuff in the bear box and leave our packs there, then summit Alta Peak and come back to camp. Sunday was to include an extended loop - rather than retrace our path up - including Mt Silliman. At first the trail seemed mildly snowy, but manageable. It quickly became more difficult to negotiate as the amount of snow increased, usually melted and refrozen into uneven ice. I started having problems with it before Ben did. I’d worn Guide Tennies, expecting them to be useful for the scrambling we anticipated toward the top of the peaks we’d be climbing. They seem to have even less traction than normal hiking boots on snow and ice, though, and on the icier, steeper portions of the trail I fell several times.

We made it to the first lake along our route, Heather Lake, with relatively little difficulty. Multiple groups had made a clear trail in the snow, and the terrain was relatively flat. We passed one group who told us they couldn’t get much farther than the first lake because they lost the tracks after that. We were obviously much more qualified hikers, though, since we had maps and a compass and were following trail markers on trees. It soon became evident that our equipment might be insufficient. After my dozenth fall, Ben turned around and said, “Ok, 1. There’s now a nonzero chance of one of us getting hurt, and 2. We’ll have to get back out of here in the morning, when it’ll be even more icy.” We decided there was no chance at that point of summiting anything, and it would be best to find a spot to camp that we would be able to safely exit in the morning. We had been following trail markers on trees, but either were slightly off route, or the route was no longer a good trail with the amount of snow it had on it. While exiting the valley we’d started descending into I slipped and slid down the hill until I stopped myself by grabbing a tree. Hiking poles might have helped, but I’d forgotten to find mine the night before, and Ben had only brought one to set up the tent with. The terrain wouldn’t have been anything impassable had we been prepared with either microspikes or crampons and axes, but we were wearing approach shoes/running shoes that had insufficient traction on even gentle slopes since the snow had refrozen and was difficult to kick steps in.

Still set on the idea of backpacking, we followed our path back out to the trail, then found a flat-looking spot up on a ridge a few hundred feet off the trail. We cooked dinner, found out my old, cheap stove doesn’t boil water very well, and went to bed at 5 pm. I like the idea of backpacking trips where you sit around after dinner, but so far this year I’ve seemed to only go on trips where it’s too cold to be anywhere but wrapped in your sleeping bag after dinner.

The view through the trees from our campsite

I didn’t sleep much all night, but I think I’ve finally found a solution to being cold at night. My sleeping bag seems to be extremely permeable to any kind of breeze. A cheap fleece liner inside it makes an immediate, noticeable difference in how cold I feel. Initially I was lying there shivering, wondering how long it would be until the sun came up and I could get up and start moving again. Then I realized the liner was bunched up around my feet, pulled it up, and felt pretty comfortable for the rest of the night except when I wiggled myself out of the bag and into the wind. I’ve also gotten better at layering and was wearing a tank top, mid-weight Smartwool shirt, fleece jacket, light insulated jacket, and down jacket on top, plus leggings and fleece pants on bottom. The lack of sleep was mostly due to the uncomfortable slope of the ground. What had looked mostly flat and slightly slanted one direction actually was on a slope that changed. Ben’s side had the head side uphill, but toward my side, it apparently transitioned to head side downhill. I woke up several times having slid halfway off my sleeping pad, with my head into the pile of sticks just outside the tent.

Eventually morning came, and since we were only about a mile from the trailhead, we packed up our stuff and went to go find a nice stable picnic table on which to cook breakfast. The picnic table we found was covered in ice, and still balanced the pot a little precariously on the pocket-rocket knockoff stove, but we succeeded in making oatmeal and went to do some touristy things for the morning.

Sunrise

In the parking lot, we met another woman who got out of her car as we approached, asking if we knew what the conditions were like. We related our story of beautiful weather, but impassable terrain for normal hiking shoes. She’d evidently driven all the way from San Francisco alone, but forgotten her microspikes. Ben encouraged her to try going at least as far as Heather Lake, since that was very doable in hiking boots, but she wanted a peak to bag, as far as we could tell. As we were coming back from cooking breakfast she was pulling out of the parking lot, presumably to go find a different hike to do.

My lone car at the far end of the parking lot. National Parks in the winter sure are a different experience from peak season.

We “hiked” the short, paved trail to see General Sherman, then continued around the Congress Trail loop. After that, we went up the staircase trail to Moro Rock, thankfully arriving before the herd of tourists who seemed to be just behind us on both trails - the Moro Rock parking lot had a line waiting for spots when we got back. Again I was reminded how lucky I am to have grown up here, with a family who encouraged a love of outdoor activities, as I overheard the following exchange on the top: “You’re using weird words. Nobody knows what switchbacks are.” “Everybody knows what switchbacks are, you’re just dumb.” “He’s not dumb, they just don’t have switchbacks in Minnesota.”

Looking toward the Sierra from the top of Moro Rock
Looking west from the top of Moro Rock

We headed out at 11 with only one coffee stop along the way, arriving back in Sunnyvale just before 4. And had I known all my friends were at the gym, I could have gone climbing, but I didn’t think anyone I climb with would be climbing at 4 on Sunday (it turned out they all were, due to the Thanksgiving week schedule), so I hadn’t brought my gym bag, nor did I have a change of clean clothes.

Next Time:

• I won’t plan such committed 3rd dates, even if it was his idea.
• I’ll just not plan any dates, since I go on successful dates even less often than I make successful summit attempts.
• I’ll know that just because someone else doesn’t own/didn’t bring crampons doesn’t mean we won’t need/want them.
• I’ll check weather reports more thoroughly to try to avoid surprise snow
• I’ll bring a Jetboil
• I’ll aim for Friday night departure to allow an earlier start Saturday, especially for winter trips with limited daylight