Welcome to Midnight

[lizolas]

New Year’s Hike - Welcome to Midnight

January 1, 2018

The original plan was to use the Christmas to New Year’s break in a low snow year to go hike the 3 Southern California peaks I’ve been trying to combine into a feasible weekend trip all year. That plan would have necessitated leaving on the 29th, ideally, and the 30th at the very latest. It turned out that disassembling and reassembling my car to replace a catalytic converter behind the engine took several times longer than my dad anticipated. My hope of completing that trip dwindled, and eventually I was forced to come up with a new plan when it still wasn’t fixed by Friday evening. My main intention was a hike that I could start at midnight on January 1st, for which the Cactus to Clouds trail up San Jacinto would have been perfect. That didn’t seem worth the 7-hour drive alone, and by the time the car was fixed on Sunday (the 31st), it was afternoon already. I’d have had to jump straight in the car and drive with minimal stops just to arrive at the trailhead by midnight.

It occurred to me to try a hike I’d done before, so I knew the trails and wouldn’t have trouble alone in the dark. Watching a sunrise from a good vantage point seemed like a great goal given my love of sunrise watching in the mountains. I decided on Clouds Rest, with none of the detours I’d taken on previous hikes and instead an attempt to head toward Tenaya Lake on the other side. Hiking trips always take so little time to pack for compared to climbing trips. Within a couple hours I’d decided on a plan, thrown clothes, snacks, water, and basic supplies in a daypack and was on my way to Yosemite Valley at 5:30.

I arrived in Mariposa at 8:30 and decided to try to nap at the rest stop there for a couple hours before continuing to the Valley. The Rangers seem pretty strict about not sleeping in vehicles there, and in fact the next evening I talked to a Ranger who told me that the rules for sleeping are that any lying under something resembling a bed/covers is unlawful camping - so sleeping in the back of my car would be a violation, but as I understood it, a nap in the front seat before taking off to drive home would be ok. I didn’t end up falling asleep, and at 10:15 continued to Yosemite, arriving at 11:30. I parked at the Happy Isles Trailhead parking lot, got my stuff in order, placed extra scented items in the bear box, and walked out to the path. Within a couple minutes, the entire campground started chanting “10… 9… 8… 7… 6… 5… 4… 3… 2… 1… HAPPY NEW YEAR!” I started my Strava track and headed up the path to the Mist Trail.

The “supermoon” was bright enough to make a headlamp almost unnecessary on the more exposed parts of the trail. I was still very happy to have one. About 15 minutes into my drive, I’d realized I had somehow neglected to pack a headlamp. Before completely turning around, I pulled into a gas station to check and found that my extra headlamp and an extra set of batteries were indeed in a compartment in the back of the car. The extra light from the headlamp made it easy to find the trail that sometimes disappears in rocks at a few points between the falls. The bridge before the final climb to Nevada Fall - which I’ve previously had trouble locating in the dark, even with a group - was plain as day this time.

At 1:30 am I reached the outhouse at the top of Nevada Fall. The hard stair climb over, I actually stopped to put on a jacket somewhere near Little Yosemite Valley. The forecast called for a low of mid-30s on the summit of Clouds Rest, and warmer at lower elevations, but I’m positive it was both colder than 35 on the summit and below freezing for a good portion of the hike up. I frequently hike in a tank top and gloves, or sometimes a Smartwool shirt and gloves, but never had I ever hiked in two jackets and gloves, on a steep uphill trail, and still been cold. By 2:30 am I’d reached the trail junction with the Half Dome Trail and stopped to have a snack as well as get some handwarmers out to put in my gloves. I ate most of a Builder’s Bar and continued up.

I always forget how hard the trail to Clouds Rest is. In my head it’s a gentle trail and I’m just extremely slow because of my inability to hike fast at higher elevations, but on the descent I noticed I was just barely managing to keep a walking pace without running downhill. It’s actually a kind of steep trail. The Half Dome turnoff is just about 7,000’, and then in 4.2 miles, the trail gains almost 3,000’ to the summit - not actually steep by mountain standards, but steeper than I think it is. Slow and steady seems to be the key here. Stopping frequently but briefly to catch my breath, I continued up the trail until just before 4 am, where I left the trail and walked out on to the slabs. By this point I was sure I would beat the sun to the summit, and wanted to take my first real break of the hike. I got out more snacks while I sat and took in the scenery. Again the moon made the experience infinitely better than it would have been on a darker night. I could see Half Dome and the peaks around Mt Clark in as much detail as if dawn had been fast approaching. I told myself I would wait til 4:15, then head off again. At 4 I saw lights down below. Apparently I’d not been the only one with the “New Year’s Clouds Rest Sunrise” idea. I entertained the idea of waiting around and joining them, but there was really no reason for me to need company. I was nearly at the end of the trail, I was getting cold just sitting around, and I kind of liked the idea of being the first to summit Clouds Rest in the new year. I anticipated some people who had camped on the summit itself just for the experience, but figured I’d get to tell myself I was the first one who climbed it entirely in 2018.

Half Dome visible in the moonlight

I started again at 4:15, plodding up the trail toward my not-even-halfway mark. I saw another tent just off of the trail and was surprised that multiple people had thought to go for Clouds Rest that day. I’d expected that there would be a fair number who wanted to go up Half Dome, although I have no idea if the park does anything to discourage drunken celebrations up there aside from their usual not officially condoning the use of the cables when they’re down. The hike was pretty uneventful from there. I reached the summit at 5:25, and to my surprise I found nobody there. It was still well before sunrise, though, and I imagined they’d start trickling in shortly. My plan to be the first person on Clouds Rest in 2018 was accomplished.

I tried to take a short nap on the summit, but even as sheltered as I could get from the slight breeze, I was still freezing in my two light jackets and leggings. In hindsight I should have brought pants if I’d planned this to be a photography stakeout, but I’m unaccustomed to stopping for more than a minute to take pictures along the way. I moved a bit down the summit and found a slightly more sheltered spot between rocks and some trees as a windbreak. At about 6:15 am I headed back up to the summit as the first light of dawn appeared over the High Sierra. This was somewhat earlier than I’d expected, but I realized the forecast I’d looked at had said 7:14 sunrise (6:44 dawn) in Yosemite Valley. Up on an unobstructed peak, it would be earlier.

What follows doesn’t have much narrative, but I spent over 2 hours on the summit taking pictures of the progressing sunrise. Despite having hauled my DSLR up with me, I didn’t actually get any good pictures with it. But I got phone images, and I still have all year to figure out real photography.

Created with flickr slideshow.

And a panorama that turned funny colors at the edges.

Part of my intention with this hike had been to complete my “30 mile hike” goal, as I’ve done a few in the high 20s but never actually broken 30 miles for a hike. At 7:45 I headed down toward Tenaya Lake. Snow reports I’d read indicated 3-4” of snow in Tuolumne Meadows, with up to 24-30” at the Tioga Pass park entrance. I decided to hope for the best and see how far I could make it with only crampons, since I didn’t want to drag snowshoes all that way with me with no idea what the conditions would be like. At first it seemed promising. The exposed upper bit of the trail had easily avoidable patches of snow and ice. As the terrain moved out of direct sun exposure, the trail quickly got lost under more than a few inches of snow. After slipping and sliding down part of the hill, I stopped at a rock to put on crampons. They wouldn’t keep me above the more powdery stuff, but they’d help keep me from any dangerous falls.

Despite my idea that I have a good sense of direction, I started heading down the wrong drainage at one point, as I cut off to the left (north) too early. A ways down that hill, I decided that the slope was far too steep to have a trail on it normally, and checked the GPS track. Yep, I was way off.

Oops.

I used Strava to navigate back to the actual trail, and once I got there it looked like it was going to be fairly easy to navigate in the snow. Then, the snow diminished and disappeared on another flatter, more exposed part. I took off my crampons and hoped that I wouldn’t have to put them back on too soon. I never did put them back on, but less than a quarter mile later, the snow returned to cover the trail completely. After a couple more miles of squishing my way through the snow in my now-sodden “waterproof” hiking boots, I decided it was time to sit down on a rock and consider my options. By my estimates, based on trail marker signs, I still had at least 3 or 4 miles to go to the lake, at least half the distance from the summit. The snow was becoming increasingly unpleasant, and the way back up was not going to be fun. I wanted to get back to the trailhead while it was still light for once, and at the rate I was going, I had no hope of reaching the lake by my planned turn-around time of 11. I decided to turn around 3 miles from the lake at 10:30, saving myself at least an hour (since a half hour downhill would have been more than half an hour uphill). On the way back I had a good idea of where the trail was, but occasionally consulted Strava. The only consistent tracks through the area were skis, and they sometimes deviated from the best walking terrain.

Snowy Trail ft. my finger

At about 12:30 pm I’d reached the final rocky walkway up to the summit from the Tenaya direction. I decided to just go up again rather than take the trail skirting the base. I nearly turned around immediately when the snow on it turned out to be icy and unstable, but sticking to the rocks on the easterly side, it actually felt fine. Getting on top seemed like asking for a fall to certain death off the other side into Tenaya Canyon. I’m honestly a little surprised more people don’t have accidents up there, although I guess the ones who are comfortable are also probably experienced enough to be safe, and the beginners are so terrified out of their minds (from reading internet trip reports) that they shimmy up on their bellies, clinging to the rocks for dear life.

I took a few more pictures but mostly enjoyed the views, as the bright light and clear skies made for pretty unimpressive photos. There was another guy up on the summit when I arrived, and he’d been smart enough to bring snowshoes, although he’d not actually used them on the portion of the trail up from the Valley. We talked about mountains for a while and I took the opportunity to remove my wet hiking boots, change my socks (I remembered an extra pair for once!), and make some pretense of drying my boots out while I ate snacks. I didn’t actually feel like eating anything but I’m trying not to do so badly at eating on all-day activities. I think I managed in the neighborhood of 1000 calories during the hike.

Half Dome without the fancy sunrise colors

I left the summit just after 1 and moved as quickly as I could down the trail. At 2:24 I was back at the sign indicating 3.8 miles to Clouds Rest. That seemed pretty slow to me, but I guess all the miles and the altitude had caught up to me. I saw multiple groups headed up toward Clouds Rest as I descended. Considering my faster-than-average pace and the time left til dark, I wondered if they were in for a longer day than they expected (several I saw only had daypacks and didn’t look like the ultralight backpacking type). Farther down, I saw quite a few more people, although I assume most of the ones toward the end were either headed only as far as Little Yosemite Valley, or were just meandering up the trail and going to turn around when they felt like it.

View toward Mt Clark
”The problem with hiking Half Dome is that you don’t have a view of Half Dome.”

On my previous hiking trip in Yosemite, I made detours up Liberty Cap and Half Dome, then wished I’d had pictures of where I turned off to Liberty Cap for the few people who asked me how I found the trail. To me the trail was a pretty obvious “climber’s trail” that started up something that looked like it was part trail, part drainage. Just after the large rock to the left of the trail (heading uphill), there’s a clear spot in the shrubs lining the trail. From there I found it was mostly a matter of following the path of least resistance in the general direction I wanted to be going.

Approaching the rock from Yosemite Valley

The rock from the other direction (heading toward the Valley)

The drainage on the left is where I went up and found a fairly clear, if convoluted, path to the 2nd/3rd gully up Liberty Cap.

Going down the Mist Trail stairs was far easier in daylight, although going down is slightly more unstable footing than going up. I think I’m done with any Mist Trail hikes until they’ve got the JMT winter route section fixed. For the final section, the trail was fairly populated, though nowhere near peak summer levels. The combination of remaining daylight and the holiday made it very different from the experience I had at the beginning of November, when I saw hardly a soul all day, even on the parts of the Mist Trail that are normally crawling with visitors. After some powerwalking that might have approached running, I reached the trailhead at exactly 4:41 - sunset, according to the forecast.

Such light. Many timely. Wow.

Having gotten several recommendations to try the Curry Village pizzeria, I went and ordered a medium cheese pizza, because I’ll pay $14 for a meal but not $20 for a special pizza that I don’t like half the toppings on anyway. It was good, but I think the glowing reviews are based more on the availability of pizza in a “remote” location than the quality of the pizza itself. I realized when I left the car that morning that I had forgotten my license at home. I thought it had gone back in my wallet when we left the park the previous weekend, but we hadn’t been asked to show IDs on the way out, so it was still in the pocket of my climbing pants. It was only 6:30 at that point, and I decided to walk around and kill some time to make sure I wouldn’t be asked for an ID on the way out. Plus, I didn’t know how they’d handle the fact that my parks pass had technically expired the previous day, although I imagine they’d have let me go with it since I’d entered the park while it was still valid.

Just the way John Muir would have wanted it, I’m sure.

I drove home with no stops (unusual for me, as I normally find some excuse to get out and walk around somewhere for a while when driving alone) and arrived a while after midnight. Later than I’d have liked (I could have been home by 11 if I’d left when I was done with dinner) but fine given that I had Tuesday off of work as well and could sleep in.

I was cold. I never wear my hood while hiking.

Next Time:

• The only real problem with this hike was the cold, and even that was relatively fine except for sitting still up at the top. A larger pack that I could have packed an extra layer of pants into might have been smart, but it also might have felt like overkill.
• My goal was just to see how far down toward Tenaya Lake I could get, but if I’d actually wanted to make it there, I would have needed snowshoes. I don’t regret not hauling them an extra 20 miles over clear trails though, because even with snowshoes I don’t know that I would have made any better pace, my feet might have just been slightly less soggy when I turned around.
• Next time I’ll get a large pizza, not a medium.

Feelings about arbitrary temporal landmarks

I am, probably fortunately, not an individual who relies on a charismatic online presence for my income. I have no obligations to produce content in a timely manner coinciding with holidays. This is probably fortunate, because, for instance, this blog post is occurring well over a month after the reported event.

The week before the new year, I read two articles, TWLOHA’s “Welcome to Midnight” and Scientific American’s blog post “Why We Think We Can Keep Those New Year’s Resolutions” that were shared from prior years on Facebook. The former gave me a lot to think about. The latter gave me a good reason not to feel like I had to have done all my thinking by midnight on New Year’s Eve. The tl;dr of the articles is, I suppose, that one should perhaps think of these kinds of dates as starting points, rather than turning points, and that the 2nd or 18th or 29th of a month is just as good a day - if not better - as the 1st to start working on improving yourself. As much as I enjoy logistics and trying to plan for every possible setback, I’ve often fallen into ruts where I have goals constrained by the number of hours in the day or dollars in my bank account. I’m going to spend Sunday doing a thorough, healthy meal prep….except that I also want to go hiking and then spend part of the afternoon at the gym and get to bed early. I’m going to devote myself to a structured training plan at the gym....except that an hour after climbing takes away from the time I could be climbing before the gym closes, and I can’t go any earlier due to my work schedule. I’m going to start applying for grad schools/jobs on the weekend...except I’m also going to go to the gym, reorganize my room, donate half my possessions to Goodwill, and do meal prep. The list continues endlessly in this fashion. I knew I wanted some New Year’s Resolutions that weren’t as useless as last year’s, and decided that I was ok with not having them ready to instate right on the 1st. I was going to take some time and think things through, then do what I thought was a reasonable amount of aspirational.

For about 5 days into January, I thought about resolutions and goals. I realized all my “resolutions” last year were really just goals. There was no requirement besides one instance of performing well. I decided that resolutions should be a regular requirement to put time and effort into something, without any expectation that it yield a certain result by a certain date. If a landmark goal isn’t reached by the end of the year, the effort that went into the pursuit isn’t invalidated, and if it’s reached earlier in the year, effort has to be put into some more extensive version. I’ve also decided that while I started with a list early in January, I plan to add additional things as I see fit. For now, I’ve started with a few things at the gym plus a few in other areas. I haven’t yet done a good job of committing to each of them as fully as I’d like, but that’s okay, because the start date doesn’t matter. Whenever I feel like adding another one to my routine, I will. To begin with, I challenged myself to at least try something over the shirt threshold every time I go climbing. It can be toprope. It can be a ridiculous - but wholehearted - attempt at something way beyond my ability. But I can’t resign myself to “I’m a bad climber” because I never onsight anything harder than high 10s (also it wouldn’t hurt to whole-ass some attempts at onsighting harder than 5.10).

A little over 3 months in and I’ve finally gotten around to posting this and resigning myself to phone-quality images that don’t do the scenery any justice. I’ve gotten on something over 5.11c every time I’ve climbed, but today at lunch, the shirt threshold was raised to 5.12a so I guess now I’ve got more work to do.