“ONLY THOSE WHO WILL RISK GOING TOO FAR CAN POSSIBLY FIND OUT HOW FAR ONE CAN GO.”
~ T. S. ELIOT
Life is about experiences; we live, we learn, we enjoy life. Here are the stories of the people that enjoy pushing themselves to their personal limits, time after time again.
Submit your trips to [email protected] to be published on this site. Share your stories of success or defeat, or whatever may lie in between.
Submit your trips to [email protected] to be published on this site. Share your stories of success or defeat, or whatever may lie in between.
Table of Contents:
- The Sierras Trip (11/2013)
- Refining the Curve (11/2014)
- The Sierras Trip (11/2013)
- Refining the Curve (11/2014)
The Sierras Trip
November 2013
Written by: Mac McCaleb 06/03/2014
When someone asked me how the trip went this past weekend I wasn't sure how to respond, but when I did answer I responded with "unexpected." As with any trip there was a natural dynamic of the good and bad experiences. Even though the good experiences outweigh the bad ones, saying that a trip was "good" wouldn't really be saying much at all.
It started with an email I received from the AAC for the advertisement of the Bishop Highball Craggin' Classic. I thought what a great excuse that would be to go head out to Bishop, CA to visit those massive boulders and beautiful peaks, and see what the Sierra life was like. A few weeks later I get a text from my "contact" at Prescott College, Raquel, "What are you doing tonight? Doug Robinson is giving a presentation." Of course when Doug Robinson comes into town, and you're a climber, you immediately have no plans to think of; "Sick. I'll be there." The presentation's main focus was talking about his newly released book "The Alchemy of Action" which attempts to describe, in great detail why we need to do what we do. Climb. Throughout the presentation he gave this story with a slideshow describing what he has done and where he has been. He always seemed drawn back to The Sierras though, where he found it to be his home. This got me more intrigued and I wondered what was so great about The Sierras. I had to go. Now.
"An idea evolves into a goal, becomes an obsession, and finishes as an affliction." - Mikey Schafer - American Alpine Journal 2013
It didn't take more than a single phone call to Ryan to convince him that we should go to the AAC's Craggin' Classic and visit The Sierras. Ryan took off work and the planning began, we had a little less than 2 weeks until the Classic and we needed an objective. Countless minutes went by at work, while I scoured Mountain Project for something that was within our reach when I came across Bear Creek Spire. It was 1000 feet of granite towering up to 13,713' which pyramids up from three main ridges and a center arête, pointing due north. This was it, this is what needed to be climbed for our first East Sierra alpine outing. I put forth as much effort as I could gathering beta on the route, approach, descent, and all the logistical necessities to make sure this was going to be successful. Bear Creek Spire or bust.
The night before I leave I get a concerning text from Ryan, "Oh man. I'm getting honed in. Not gonna lie, a little nervous for our () the north arête" This immediately gets me a bit nervous, I ask that he explain why. The explanation was a series of legitimate concerns he had, along the lines of his inexperience and how "sobering and humbling" it is to think about the chances of our experience being fatal. It would be wrong of me to write this off and say this is all cliché, because unfortunately it is factual. The objective is large, the commitment is there, and we're just going to throw ourselves at it as sensible as possible; where we can only hope for the best. Which is why many call what we do absurd and pointless.
Friday afternoon at about 1:15pm, I am still crushing my brain cells together as tight as I can to squeeze out every last bit of knowledge I have gained over the previous month to figure out what the hell I am doing on this Aerodynamics Midterm. As hard as I try to focus, my efforts are fruitless. I am already thinking of the road ahead to Bishop, CA and beyond into the East Sierra. Twenty-five minutes later and I grab my shit and make my way to my mailbox, hoping that there will be a guidebook for the East Sierras waiting for me from the AAC Library in there. That's the last time I put my trust in the government system to deliver, literally. I let Ryan know, we have no guidebook, no set strategy, we're just shooting in the dark for beta on this spire. Except of course there's always Mountain Project, we'll get back to that. I feel Ryan's concern is growing, intensely, with my compounded frustration from the lack of focus I had on the exam I just lay it out to him bullshit aside,"...I need to know that this is going to be worth it...that I'm not just going to be wasting my time and money..." Ryan cooly responded with "...I mean I don't know if you would consider it worth it, but it's going to be time well spent..." That was more than a satisfactory answer for me, all I needed to get back to my place, throw my pack, duffle, and crash pad in, and go.
I meet Ryan in Barstow, CA where we'll head up from there to Bishop. Time to stash a car. Where in Barstow is a 1999 gold Honda Accord safe from Barstow itself? Seemingly nowhere. Leaving it in one of the few well-lit parking lots in all of Barstow is the best he could do, we both hope it's there when we return in 3 days. After reluctantly throwing his pack and crash pad into my Coop we head off to Bishop, around 8:30pm. To note: that makes two crash pads, two packs over 50L, a large TNF Duffel, and not to mention a small cooler, small ActionPacker Tub, a "backpacking" tent (circa '88), and a few other items to fill in the gaps in the back of my car. Arriving in Bishop around midnight we spent an additional 30 minutes just looking for a campground that was supposed to be free, but almost nonexistent. Not long after 1am rolls around we find ourselves in content of warm sleeping bags, ready to wake up and see where we actually were. My alarm goes off too soon, literally, I wake Ryan and he is confused out of his mind; we aren't supposed to be up for another hour. I still can't ever get the hang of daylight savings time. However, this time it works in my favor and I can actually sleep again.
Seeing the massive snow-covered peaks right behind our tent wasn't just inspiring, it was invigorating. Just looking at infinite number of striking lines that were so close was almost too much to handle. Needing to look away to stay focused on just getting to the Buttermilks before the trail work began at the Craggin’ Classic wasn't easily accomplished. In my rearview I could see the jagged peaks almost the entire drive to the Buttermilks, the amount of want I had to be within those peaks at that moment was insurmountable. My stomach was also calling for the free breakfast that was to be given too. Coming out of my morning haze and into reality helped the situation. I knew soon enough Ryan and I would be among peaks like those and that we would be getting our fill of what we needed.
November 2013
Written by: Mac McCaleb 06/03/2014
When someone asked me how the trip went this past weekend I wasn't sure how to respond, but when I did answer I responded with "unexpected." As with any trip there was a natural dynamic of the good and bad experiences. Even though the good experiences outweigh the bad ones, saying that a trip was "good" wouldn't really be saying much at all.
It started with an email I received from the AAC for the advertisement of the Bishop Highball Craggin' Classic. I thought what a great excuse that would be to go head out to Bishop, CA to visit those massive boulders and beautiful peaks, and see what the Sierra life was like. A few weeks later I get a text from my "contact" at Prescott College, Raquel, "What are you doing tonight? Doug Robinson is giving a presentation." Of course when Doug Robinson comes into town, and you're a climber, you immediately have no plans to think of; "Sick. I'll be there." The presentation's main focus was talking about his newly released book "The Alchemy of Action" which attempts to describe, in great detail why we need to do what we do. Climb. Throughout the presentation he gave this story with a slideshow describing what he has done and where he has been. He always seemed drawn back to The Sierras though, where he found it to be his home. This got me more intrigued and I wondered what was so great about The Sierras. I had to go. Now.
"An idea evolves into a goal, becomes an obsession, and finishes as an affliction." - Mikey Schafer - American Alpine Journal 2013
It didn't take more than a single phone call to Ryan to convince him that we should go to the AAC's Craggin' Classic and visit The Sierras. Ryan took off work and the planning began, we had a little less than 2 weeks until the Classic and we needed an objective. Countless minutes went by at work, while I scoured Mountain Project for something that was within our reach when I came across Bear Creek Spire. It was 1000 feet of granite towering up to 13,713' which pyramids up from three main ridges and a center arête, pointing due north. This was it, this is what needed to be climbed for our first East Sierra alpine outing. I put forth as much effort as I could gathering beta on the route, approach, descent, and all the logistical necessities to make sure this was going to be successful. Bear Creek Spire or bust.
The night before I leave I get a concerning text from Ryan, "Oh man. I'm getting honed in. Not gonna lie, a little nervous for our () the north arête" This immediately gets me a bit nervous, I ask that he explain why. The explanation was a series of legitimate concerns he had, along the lines of his inexperience and how "sobering and humbling" it is to think about the chances of our experience being fatal. It would be wrong of me to write this off and say this is all cliché, because unfortunately it is factual. The objective is large, the commitment is there, and we're just going to throw ourselves at it as sensible as possible; where we can only hope for the best. Which is why many call what we do absurd and pointless.
Friday afternoon at about 1:15pm, I am still crushing my brain cells together as tight as I can to squeeze out every last bit of knowledge I have gained over the previous month to figure out what the hell I am doing on this Aerodynamics Midterm. As hard as I try to focus, my efforts are fruitless. I am already thinking of the road ahead to Bishop, CA and beyond into the East Sierra. Twenty-five minutes later and I grab my shit and make my way to my mailbox, hoping that there will be a guidebook for the East Sierras waiting for me from the AAC Library in there. That's the last time I put my trust in the government system to deliver, literally. I let Ryan know, we have no guidebook, no set strategy, we're just shooting in the dark for beta on this spire. Except of course there's always Mountain Project, we'll get back to that. I feel Ryan's concern is growing, intensely, with my compounded frustration from the lack of focus I had on the exam I just lay it out to him bullshit aside,"...I need to know that this is going to be worth it...that I'm not just going to be wasting my time and money..." Ryan cooly responded with "...I mean I don't know if you would consider it worth it, but it's going to be time well spent..." That was more than a satisfactory answer for me, all I needed to get back to my place, throw my pack, duffle, and crash pad in, and go.
I meet Ryan in Barstow, CA where we'll head up from there to Bishop. Time to stash a car. Where in Barstow is a 1999 gold Honda Accord safe from Barstow itself? Seemingly nowhere. Leaving it in one of the few well-lit parking lots in all of Barstow is the best he could do, we both hope it's there when we return in 3 days. After reluctantly throwing his pack and crash pad into my Coop we head off to Bishop, around 8:30pm. To note: that makes two crash pads, two packs over 50L, a large TNF Duffel, and not to mention a small cooler, small ActionPacker Tub, a "backpacking" tent (circa '88), and a few other items to fill in the gaps in the back of my car. Arriving in Bishop around midnight we spent an additional 30 minutes just looking for a campground that was supposed to be free, but almost nonexistent. Not long after 1am rolls around we find ourselves in content of warm sleeping bags, ready to wake up and see where we actually were. My alarm goes off too soon, literally, I wake Ryan and he is confused out of his mind; we aren't supposed to be up for another hour. I still can't ever get the hang of daylight savings time. However, this time it works in my favor and I can actually sleep again.
Seeing the massive snow-covered peaks right behind our tent wasn't just inspiring, it was invigorating. Just looking at infinite number of striking lines that were so close was almost too much to handle. Needing to look away to stay focused on just getting to the Buttermilks before the trail work began at the Craggin’ Classic wasn't easily accomplished. In my rearview I could see the jagged peaks almost the entire drive to the Buttermilks, the amount of want I had to be within those peaks at that moment was insurmountable. My stomach was also calling for the free breakfast that was to be given too. Coming out of my morning haze and into reality helped the situation. I knew soon enough Ryan and I would be among peaks like those and that we would be getting our fill of what we needed.
(A glimpse of the Sierras from the west end of the Buttermilks. Photo: Ryan Forsell)
Arriving at the tents for the Buttermilks clean up I immediately spotted the coffee and bagels and dashed. There were several tents with different vendors and sponsors of the event, he parking lot was packed with people that were partaking. Everyone was hustling and grumbling about as they were waiting for their share of the promised breakfast. Ryan and I showed up a bit later than everyone else, mostly because we hadn’t the slightest idea where we were supposed to go. Luckily the reinforcements arrived right as we got there for extra supply of coffee. Being that it was 7am-ish not too many people were likely talking with others that they didn’t already know. It wasn’t a sociable hour by any means, unless you’re Ryan. Within a few minutes of being there he sought out the one dude that was by himself and sparked a conversation with him while I stood there, being oblivious to anything and everything except the sweet nectar of the dark liquid clenched between my palms.
Turns out Ryan made a good move and we now had a friend to hang with for the day and into the evening’s festivities. Let’s call this new friend “Jeff,” we chatted it up a bit and then just as quickly as I finished my second bagel we were being instructed on what needed to be done and where to go with what tools. Ryan, “Jeff,” and I decided to plant seed and new plants to help restore vegetation in the area. We also assisted in re-aligning the trails to where they are supposed to be, the Bishop season was about to be in full swing and the area needed to be prepped before the masses came. Over the course of a few hours we essentially explored the Buttermilks and got a one-on-one tour of the area because we were with “Jeff” and all the other locals. It was by far the best and easiest way to discover an area I hadn’t ever been to before. Returning to the tents after the trail work we were able to stash a bunch of free Clif bars and other food, knowing that it would all come in handy later while at Bear Creek Spire. Ryan and I talked with “Jeff” some more and he recommended a bunch of routes for us to try and lent us his guidebook for the afternoon. That afternoon we put that guidebook to use and climbed as many moderate classics as we could, even though we were both still tired from the previous events over the last 24 hours.
Arriving at the tents for the Buttermilks clean up I immediately spotted the coffee and bagels and dashed. There were several tents with different vendors and sponsors of the event, he parking lot was packed with people that were partaking. Everyone was hustling and grumbling about as they were waiting for their share of the promised breakfast. Ryan and I showed up a bit later than everyone else, mostly because we hadn’t the slightest idea where we were supposed to go. Luckily the reinforcements arrived right as we got there for extra supply of coffee. Being that it was 7am-ish not too many people were likely talking with others that they didn’t already know. It wasn’t a sociable hour by any means, unless you’re Ryan. Within a few minutes of being there he sought out the one dude that was by himself and sparked a conversation with him while I stood there, being oblivious to anything and everything except the sweet nectar of the dark liquid clenched between my palms.
Turns out Ryan made a good move and we now had a friend to hang with for the day and into the evening’s festivities. Let’s call this new friend “Jeff,” we chatted it up a bit and then just as quickly as I finished my second bagel we were being instructed on what needed to be done and where to go with what tools. Ryan, “Jeff,” and I decided to plant seed and new plants to help restore vegetation in the area. We also assisted in re-aligning the trails to where they are supposed to be, the Bishop season was about to be in full swing and the area needed to be prepped before the masses came. Over the course of a few hours we essentially explored the Buttermilks and got a one-on-one tour of the area because we were with “Jeff” and all the other locals. It was by far the best and easiest way to discover an area I hadn’t ever been to before. Returning to the tents after the trail work we were able to stash a bunch of free Clif bars and other food, knowing that it would all come in handy later while at Bear Creek Spire. Ryan and I talked with “Jeff” some more and he recommended a bunch of routes for us to try and lent us his guidebook for the afternoon. That afternoon we put that guidebook to use and climbed as many moderate classics as we could, even though we were both still tired from the previous events over the last 24 hours.
(The Prow, Birthday Boulders, Buttermilks. Photo: Ryan Forsell)
(Unknown route. Photo: Mac McCaleb)
That night there was also a presentation and climbers meet up that was supposed to be happening at the Station. Of course we weren’t going to pass up the opportunity to go grab as much free food and New Belgium beer as possible provided by the AAC. Most, if not more, climbers were there form the morning’s trail work. Tons of vendors were there again giving away a bunch of schwag and also supplying goods for the silent auction and raffle that took place. While hanging out in line for more beer, I noticed a friendly face that is hard to forget. Doug Robinson decided to come down from his place and join the party. He remembered talking to me in Prescott and so we chatted a bit more, I threw the idea out to him to get ahold of Chris Kalous of the Enormocast to get him on to talk about is book. The party was just getting started, after a few more beers and talking to fellow climbers, local and from far away, we funneled into the Station where it was Matt Segal and Will Stanhope’s turn to take the stage. They hoped over for the night from working a new line in Yosemite a day prior. In my over-half drunken state and the intensity of the crowd I easily got sucked in to Matt and Will’s stories about how they got into climbing and where they had recently been. My memory of the details are cloudy, but I remembered that I was feeling SO psyched for what Ryan and I were going to do be doing the next few days.
That night there was also a presentation and climbers meet up that was supposed to be happening at the Station. Of course we weren’t going to pass up the opportunity to go grab as much free food and New Belgium beer as possible provided by the AAC. Most, if not more, climbers were there form the morning’s trail work. Tons of vendors were there again giving away a bunch of schwag and also supplying goods for the silent auction and raffle that took place. While hanging out in line for more beer, I noticed a friendly face that is hard to forget. Doug Robinson decided to come down from his place and join the party. He remembered talking to me in Prescott and so we chatted a bit more, I threw the idea out to him to get ahold of Chris Kalous of the Enormocast to get him on to talk about is book. The party was just getting started, after a few more beers and talking to fellow climbers, local and from far away, we funneled into the Station where it was Matt Segal and Will Stanhope’s turn to take the stage. They hoped over for the night from working a new line in Yosemite a day prior. In my over-half drunken state and the intensity of the crowd I easily got sucked in to Matt and Will’s stories about how they got into climbing and where they had recently been. My memory of the details are cloudy, but I remembered that I was feeling SO psyched for what Ryan and I were going to do be doing the next few days.
(A fiery night for climbers that attended the Craggin’ Classic in Bishop, CA Photo: Ryan Forsell)
On the way back to camp on the west side of Bishop Ryan and I were still famished, and were too lazy to cook anything at camp. Not that we had much anyways besides Clif bars. The only place that seems to be open during a Saturday night in Bishop, CA around 10:30pm is Carl’s Jr. Much to my disgust, I caved in realizing that I needed the calories more than ever. While eating Ryan and I had some discussion about our plans for the next few days, since they were now changing from the original idea. Originally we were going to head to the camp site at the parking lot of the trail head for getting to Bear Creek Spire right after the Craggin’ Classic festivities. Now being at Carl’s Jr. and just starting to sober up that reality check hit us quite suddenly. We barely had any clue where to go, much less find it while it’s pitch black. We had researched the area while at the local mountain shop before heading to the Station, which had some sobering facts about how wrong our original estimated timetable was for the ascent. Ryan started recognizing this reality quite quickly and I was still trying to be as optimistic as possible about the evolving situation. He was genuinely concerned about what we were trying to do and had major doubts that it would be worth our time. Somehow, over the course of eating I was able to work out a new plan with him that convinced ourselves it would be feasible. Which it was.
We headed back to the campsite we had been at the night before, since we knew were that was, and decided to get as much sleep as we could before we started the approach to the spire the next day. We woke up later on Sunday, thinking we would be in no rush to do anything. As we were just planning on heading to set up camp next to Dade Lake. We found out that we needed to get a backcountry permit to stay the night out there, luckily it was now November and we didn’t have to fight for it or pay for it. That took a matter of minutes, once we found the Forest Service office. We also realized we still technically needed a bear canister as well, so we had to rent that for a few days. Finally starting to work our way out of town we grabbed some sandwiches at a supposedly “world famous” Erick Schat’s Bakkery. No idea it existed, but they make some mean sandwiches to help you chug along an alpine trail. Through researching the day before we found out where the trailhead was, up past Tom’s Place, north of Bishop.
Arriving in the parking lot there wasn’t a lot of activity, but it was also about 2:45pm. In my mind I had a mental plan that we would be able to get to Dade Lake in hardly over 4 hours. Hiking along into the dark was inevitable, but I didn’t think twice about it because I figured it would only be about 45 minutes of true dark and the trail was supposed to be well-defined. 5:30pm rolls around and the sun is gone behind the towering peaks. I didn’t take that into consideration at all, I actually have a fairly good knack for always being extremely optimistic on time. I still haven’t figured that one out. Another reason for this mis-calculation of time is that I was basing it off of the original information I got off Mountain Project. That was a mistake in itself, as it wasn’t so close to being correct. The description on Mountain Project distinctly says “…4.25 miles, 1,300 feet of climbing…” In the actual guidebook, which I found in my mailbox after this escapade, stated 6 miles and 2,100 feet of climbing. where the last 1.75 miles you gain 1,000 feet. By the time Ryan and I reached those last 1,000 feet it was already completely dark and we couldn’t find this “well cairned trail” that everyone spoke of. Not wanting to have to reverse any progress the next day we found it best to set camp behind some trees on the north side of Gem Lakes.
On the way back to camp on the west side of Bishop Ryan and I were still famished, and were too lazy to cook anything at camp. Not that we had much anyways besides Clif bars. The only place that seems to be open during a Saturday night in Bishop, CA around 10:30pm is Carl’s Jr. Much to my disgust, I caved in realizing that I needed the calories more than ever. While eating Ryan and I had some discussion about our plans for the next few days, since they were now changing from the original idea. Originally we were going to head to the camp site at the parking lot of the trail head for getting to Bear Creek Spire right after the Craggin’ Classic festivities. Now being at Carl’s Jr. and just starting to sober up that reality check hit us quite suddenly. We barely had any clue where to go, much less find it while it’s pitch black. We had researched the area while at the local mountain shop before heading to the Station, which had some sobering facts about how wrong our original estimated timetable was for the ascent. Ryan started recognizing this reality quite quickly and I was still trying to be as optimistic as possible about the evolving situation. He was genuinely concerned about what we were trying to do and had major doubts that it would be worth our time. Somehow, over the course of eating I was able to work out a new plan with him that convinced ourselves it would be feasible. Which it was.
We headed back to the campsite we had been at the night before, since we knew were that was, and decided to get as much sleep as we could before we started the approach to the spire the next day. We woke up later on Sunday, thinking we would be in no rush to do anything. As we were just planning on heading to set up camp next to Dade Lake. We found out that we needed to get a backcountry permit to stay the night out there, luckily it was now November and we didn’t have to fight for it or pay for it. That took a matter of minutes, once we found the Forest Service office. We also realized we still technically needed a bear canister as well, so we had to rent that for a few days. Finally starting to work our way out of town we grabbed some sandwiches at a supposedly “world famous” Erick Schat’s Bakkery. No idea it existed, but they make some mean sandwiches to help you chug along an alpine trail. Through researching the day before we found out where the trailhead was, up past Tom’s Place, north of Bishop.
Arriving in the parking lot there wasn’t a lot of activity, but it was also about 2:45pm. In my mind I had a mental plan that we would be able to get to Dade Lake in hardly over 4 hours. Hiking along into the dark was inevitable, but I didn’t think twice about it because I figured it would only be about 45 minutes of true dark and the trail was supposed to be well-defined. 5:30pm rolls around and the sun is gone behind the towering peaks. I didn’t take that into consideration at all, I actually have a fairly good knack for always being extremely optimistic on time. I still haven’t figured that one out. Another reason for this mis-calculation of time is that I was basing it off of the original information I got off Mountain Project. That was a mistake in itself, as it wasn’t so close to being correct. The description on Mountain Project distinctly says “…4.25 miles, 1,300 feet of climbing…” In the actual guidebook, which I found in my mailbox after this escapade, stated 6 miles and 2,100 feet of climbing. where the last 1.75 miles you gain 1,000 feet. By the time Ryan and I reached those last 1,000 feet it was already completely dark and we couldn’t find this “well cairned trail” that everyone spoke of. Not wanting to have to reverse any progress the next day we found it best to set camp behind some trees on the north side of Gem Lakes.
(The Sun falling behind the John Muir Wilderness with Bear Creek Spire second to right from center peak. Photo: Ryan Forsell)
(Knowing that we were going to be hiking back in the dark anyways, might as well take some time to capture what’s left. Photo: Ryan Forsell)
(Maybe going light and fast is a better option? Photo: Ryan Forsell)
Normal routine fell into place, we melted snow, made as much pasta as we could, and I tried to mentally prepare for the inevitably long day that was to come tomorrow while pouring warm water into as many bottles as we could fit into our sleeping bags. I now knew why the lakes were all as frozen as they were. The idea was that we could get up once the sun crested so that once the first light hit the valley we were set to go again. 5:00am rolled around, very quickly, it was pitch black out. 6:00am comes and goes with no hint of light. 7:00am I’m thinking now “There’s NO way the sun hasn’t risen by now…we HAVE to get moving.” Ryan and I got up and out just as the first rays were starting to show on the valley’s peaks and reflect down to us. All either of us could think about is how late we are now. Barely eating breakfast we took off up into what we hoped was the right direction, based on what we found at the shop back in Bishop. We find a cairn, and then another, they lead up a steep talus drainage to gain a ridge. We follow the ridge for a little bit and then drop down to what then was Treasure Lakes.
Normal routine fell into place, we melted snow, made as much pasta as we could, and I tried to mentally prepare for the inevitably long day that was to come tomorrow while pouring warm water into as many bottles as we could fit into our sleeping bags. I now knew why the lakes were all as frozen as they were. The idea was that we could get up once the sun crested so that once the first light hit the valley we were set to go again. 5:00am rolled around, very quickly, it was pitch black out. 6:00am comes and goes with no hint of light. 7:00am I’m thinking now “There’s NO way the sun hasn’t risen by now…we HAVE to get moving.” Ryan and I got up and out just as the first rays were starting to show on the valley’s peaks and reflect down to us. All either of us could think about is how late we are now. Barely eating breakfast we took off up into what we hoped was the right direction, based on what we found at the shop back in Bishop. We find a cairn, and then another, they lead up a steep talus drainage to gain a ridge. We follow the ridge for a little bit and then drop down to what then was Treasure Lakes.
(Hydrate or die. Enjoying the warmth while it’s given. Photo: Ryan Forsell)
(First-glimpse-first-light on Bear Creek Spire while dropping down from the ridge into Treasure Lakes. Photo: Ryan Forsell)
Recognizing how much further we had to go I set pace and just pushed as hard as I could without having to rest often. This is when I noticed a very rare difference in the way things usually are. I was ahead of Ryan, very far ahead, I didn’t think about it for a while because he was taking a ton of photos. I then stopped and let him catch up only to have him say “…shit bro this stuff is rough..” We worked back up another gully, only to realize that we could have followed the ridge the entire way instead of unnecessarily making elevation changes. I flew up the steep talus gully as quickly as I could to make sure we would be going the way we needed to before Ryan came up. I saw a tent with two guys hanging out in the distance at the bivy sites next to Dade Lake. That was our original plan, and it was comforting to know that we were now on the right track. When Ryan and I got our backcountry permit the day before we noticed one other party of two was actually going to be up there as well. I waited for Ryan as he came up the gully and we made our way to the other guys to get hopefully get some much-needed beta. They were very cool with helping us out with information on the route, the headed up the Spire the previous day. Their original plan was to also take the North Arete route, but as Ryan and I noticed, the entire base to 100ft below was covered in blue ice. Not good at all for our current situation.
Recognizing how much further we had to go I set pace and just pushed as hard as I could without having to rest often. This is when I noticed a very rare difference in the way things usually are. I was ahead of Ryan, very far ahead, I didn’t think about it for a while because he was taking a ton of photos. I then stopped and let him catch up only to have him say “…shit bro this stuff is rough..” We worked back up another gully, only to realize that we could have followed the ridge the entire way instead of unnecessarily making elevation changes. I flew up the steep talus gully as quickly as I could to make sure we would be going the way we needed to before Ryan came up. I saw a tent with two guys hanging out in the distance at the bivy sites next to Dade Lake. That was our original plan, and it was comforting to know that we were now on the right track. When Ryan and I got our backcountry permit the day before we noticed one other party of two was actually going to be up there as well. I waited for Ryan as he came up the gully and we made our way to the other guys to get hopefully get some much-needed beta. They were very cool with helping us out with information on the route, the headed up the Spire the previous day. Their original plan was to also take the North Arete route, but as Ryan and I noticed, the entire base to 100ft below was covered in blue ice. Not good at all for our current situation.
(Bear Creek Spire, transitioning seasons too early. Photo: Ryan Forsell)
The guys recommended we take the route they did, which was the Northeast Ridge. They said the snow should be knocked away for the most part and the decent was freshly rigged with new slings and ‘biners. Even though the decent was supposed to drop you down into waist deep snow on the northwest side of the Spire. Our informative friends packed up, bid us good luck and started heading back down the correct approach, so we noted that as well. We weighed what few options we had: Attempt up the North Arete with each of our own single ice tools and no crampons, Head up the Northeast Ridge and gun it for the summit, Admit the peak won this round and call it off. Settling in the middle of the extremes we had to give this thing a shot, we’re already here, why not? Heading up the talus field from hell, where every step was either loose, filled with snow, or wet and slick with smooth rock and ice, we were making slow progress. Ever-looming in the back of my mind was how little sunlight we actually had left compared to how long of a day this is really going to end up being.
The guys recommended we take the route they did, which was the Northeast Ridge. They said the snow should be knocked away for the most part and the decent was freshly rigged with new slings and ‘biners. Even though the decent was supposed to drop you down into waist deep snow on the northwest side of the Spire. Our informative friends packed up, bid us good luck and started heading back down the correct approach, so we noted that as well. We weighed what few options we had: Attempt up the North Arete with each of our own single ice tools and no crampons, Head up the Northeast Ridge and gun it for the summit, Admit the peak won this round and call it off. Settling in the middle of the extremes we had to give this thing a shot, we’re already here, why not? Heading up the talus field from hell, where every step was either loose, filled with snow, or wet and slick with smooth rock and ice, we were making slow progress. Ever-looming in the back of my mind was how little sunlight we actually had left compared to how long of a day this is really going to end up being.
(Doing my best to learn how to travel on complete shit without breaking an ankle. Photo: Ryan Forsell)
We were making genuine progress, albeit a lot slower than what we really should be doing. I was still consistently very far ahead of Ryan at most times unless I waited for him to catch up. About 150 feet below gaining the Northeast Ridge to start into moderately technical terrain Ryan let’s me know that he seriously wasn’t doing so great. He had brought this to my attention a few times on the way up, only so much as to put it out there that this talus is horrible and he is going slower than he would like to. I asked him what was going on and he said his heart was palpating and his head felt like it was about to pop. What was happening is what he feared the most about this trip, not having enough time to acclimate to the higher elevation. Having come from Prescott I already had 5,000’ on him, where he was coming up from almost sea-level. I was feeling stronger than I had ever been before. I figured he would be fine and if anything it would put us at the same level to where I could keep up with him. That was not the case, he was hurting badly now being at almost 12,700’. A combination of high altitude and a pre-existing heart condition was finally the one thing that could slow him down, but still not destroy his spirits. I asked him if he wanted to suck it up with some ibuprofen and continue or descend. As soon as I said those options I knew it was fool hearted to even give an option to him. Luckily he still had sense about him and his humility was still in tact. Just like that we opted to start the decent.
We were making genuine progress, albeit a lot slower than what we really should be doing. I was still consistently very far ahead of Ryan at most times unless I waited for him to catch up. About 150 feet below gaining the Northeast Ridge to start into moderately technical terrain Ryan let’s me know that he seriously wasn’t doing so great. He had brought this to my attention a few times on the way up, only so much as to put it out there that this talus is horrible and he is going slower than he would like to. I asked him what was going on and he said his heart was palpating and his head felt like it was about to pop. What was happening is what he feared the most about this trip, not having enough time to acclimate to the higher elevation. Having come from Prescott I already had 5,000’ on him, where he was coming up from almost sea-level. I was feeling stronger than I had ever been before. I figured he would be fine and if anything it would put us at the same level to where I could keep up with him. That was not the case, he was hurting badly now being at almost 12,700’. A combination of high altitude and a pre-existing heart condition was finally the one thing that could slow him down, but still not destroy his spirits. I asked him if he wanted to suck it up with some ibuprofen and continue or descend. As soon as I said those options I knew it was fool hearted to even give an option to him. Luckily he still had sense about him and his humility was still in tact. Just like that we opted to start the decent.
(Hydrating while taking several rests. Photo: Mac McCaleb)
Now that time was on our side, we had the ability to rest and enjoy our surroundings. At the time I was disappointed with what we were having to do, but I knew it was for the best and was necessary. We followed the same way down as we did back up, crossing the horrendous talus field once again. Even though we eased off from go-mode to conserve-mode we still had a ways to go. At Dade Lake we rested for a good bit before we made the hike back down to Gem Lakes to grab what we had left there earlier. I had some of the best water I had ever had from that lake, but that may have just been because I was consistently quenching thirst. Opting for not doing our original approach we took the way that the other two climbers had descended, heading east. It was still talus, but there were some cairns to follow, and the grade wasn’t as steep until the end where we came to flat ground around Gem Lakes. Not too much was said, except I know we were both thinking the same thoughts. Making quick work of taking down the camp and re-packing for the trek out, I started feeling sluggish and felt a wall was coming. It was still light out when we left Gem Lakes and being that it was mostly downhill from the lake to the trailhead our pace was quick. I had to stop a few times to rest as the wall creeped up on me and finally hit. I found my limit, luckily it was on the return from our camp instead of on the descent of Bear Creek Spire. We had some light left and a bit of time to enjoy where we were once again. I took in every bit I could, I know Ryan was doing the same.
Now that time was on our side, we had the ability to rest and enjoy our surroundings. At the time I was disappointed with what we were having to do, but I knew it was for the best and was necessary. We followed the same way down as we did back up, crossing the horrendous talus field once again. Even though we eased off from go-mode to conserve-mode we still had a ways to go. At Dade Lake we rested for a good bit before we made the hike back down to Gem Lakes to grab what we had left there earlier. I had some of the best water I had ever had from that lake, but that may have just been because I was consistently quenching thirst. Opting for not doing our original approach we took the way that the other two climbers had descended, heading east. It was still talus, but there were some cairns to follow, and the grade wasn’t as steep until the end where we came to flat ground around Gem Lakes. Not too much was said, except I know we were both thinking the same thoughts. Making quick work of taking down the camp and re-packing for the trek out, I started feeling sluggish and felt a wall was coming. It was still light out when we left Gem Lakes and being that it was mostly downhill from the lake to the trailhead our pace was quick. I had to stop a few times to rest as the wall creeped up on me and finally hit. I found my limit, luckily it was on the return from our camp instead of on the descent of Bear Creek Spire. We had some light left and a bit of time to enjoy where we were once again. I took in every bit I could, I know Ryan was doing the same.
(Frozen Dade Lake, Bear Creek Spire, and endless talus. Photo: Mac McCaleb)
(Ryan starting to feel better once again after decending to Dade Lake. Photo: Mac McCaleb)
(Finally back on soil at Gem Lakes. Photo: Ryan Forsell)
(Last light on Bear Creek Spire, left peak. Photo: Ryan Forsell)
We arrived back to the car almost exactly as it got dark. To say Ryan and I were wrecked would be an understatement. We hadn’t eaten much since Oats at 7am and hardly stopped for more than 5 mins. We threw the bags back into the car and then left, with only food on my mind. Being so famished we were stopping at the first place that sold food, regardless of what it was, my standards we very low at this point. Luckily Tom’s Place was just down the hill, and was actually open. Ordering as much food as I could possibly handle, Ryan and I each dove deep and indulged. The feeling of having quality, tasteful food after a situation where you never really know when you’re going to eat next always gives perspective and helps you appreciate the little things. If Ryan and I had continued to the summit that day it would have been guaranteed that we would not have left the camp, and we would have nothing but Clif bars and water/tea for dinner.
After indulging ourselves for a while a friendly face appeared again and sat down at the bar next to our table. Turns out if you’re Doug Robinson your bedtime is not the same as any ordinary older man. He was getting the last meal served for the night. I bought him the last piece of pecan pie and then all three of us had a discussion about what we were doing. He told us that what we did over the course of the last two days was astounding, and that if we had actually tagged the summit it would have been an incredible feat. He said he never goes in when conditions are as they are, it is too hard to move. It is best to ski/skin in once there is enough snow to cover all the talus or to wait until summer when the rock is visible and easy to navigate. This immediately made Ryan and I feel uplifted about what we had done.I quickly realized this experience was not a waste by any means. With every experience something is learned, I learned a lot on this trip. Finding out the best way to take your gear for a hike was certainly one of them. It was really only my third time in the alpine, but already connections were being made and I know a lot of what not to do, and what to do for the next time. I know there will always be a next time.
Geshido,
Mac
We arrived back to the car almost exactly as it got dark. To say Ryan and I were wrecked would be an understatement. We hadn’t eaten much since Oats at 7am and hardly stopped for more than 5 mins. We threw the bags back into the car and then left, with only food on my mind. Being so famished we were stopping at the first place that sold food, regardless of what it was, my standards we very low at this point. Luckily Tom’s Place was just down the hill, and was actually open. Ordering as much food as I could possibly handle, Ryan and I each dove deep and indulged. The feeling of having quality, tasteful food after a situation where you never really know when you’re going to eat next always gives perspective and helps you appreciate the little things. If Ryan and I had continued to the summit that day it would have been guaranteed that we would not have left the camp, and we would have nothing but Clif bars and water/tea for dinner.
After indulging ourselves for a while a friendly face appeared again and sat down at the bar next to our table. Turns out if you’re Doug Robinson your bedtime is not the same as any ordinary older man. He was getting the last meal served for the night. I bought him the last piece of pecan pie and then all three of us had a discussion about what we were doing. He told us that what we did over the course of the last two days was astounding, and that if we had actually tagged the summit it would have been an incredible feat. He said he never goes in when conditions are as they are, it is too hard to move. It is best to ski/skin in once there is enough snow to cover all the talus or to wait until summer when the rock is visible and easy to navigate. This immediately made Ryan and I feel uplifted about what we had done.I quickly realized this experience was not a waste by any means. With every experience something is learned, I learned a lot on this trip. Finding out the best way to take your gear for a hike was certainly one of them. It was really only my third time in the alpine, but already connections were being made and I know a lot of what not to do, and what to do for the next time. I know there will always be a next time.
Geshido,
Mac
Refining the Curve
November 2014
Written by: Mac McCaleb 11/14/2014
What does an American, a Slovenian, Bishop, CA, beer, and a big piece of rock have in common? I’m still trying to figure that one out. All I can say is that over the weekend prior to Veteran’s day they were all a part of my life in a way that only climbing could probably bring together. While I haven’t chased nearly as many marmots in the alpine as many of my peers have, I’ve done enough to know now that a lot of the time things go wrong. However, after enough time spent being wet, cold, tired, hungry, or all four, the requirements to successfully finish a goal from start to finish finally become routine and completing a planned objective is the final result.
This was only the second time being out in the East Sierras for myself, and a first for Alex. Last year at almost the exact same time I headed out to the American Alpine Club’s Craggin’ Classic to participate in climber-oriented festivities and a clean-up of the local Buttermilk Boulders. The first time I was able to go with a long-time friend and climbing partner to attempt the North Arête of Bear Creek Spire. Bear Creek Spire lays 6.25 miles deep into the East Sierras from the Mosquito Flats Trailhead, which requires a 20 minute drive in form Tom’s Place. It’s a remote setting with an abundant amount of visitors during the summer, but come snow the numbers significantly drop to very few. Alex and I were the few.
This December Alex is graduating and then heading back home to Slovenia, where he’ll be able to continue to experience the variety of different types of climbing that Europe has to offer. Unfortunately, he hasn’t had too much time available to spend out in the mountains around the United States. This is easy to imagine since being in Arizona the closest mountain ranges are either an 8.5 or a 14.5 hour drive away. I mentioned this event to him in August at the beginning of the semester and immediately he wanted to go, giving no fucks to what was required for classes or normal life. Even though he had a severe case of the “give no fucks” attitude towards classes, I couldn’t afford that anymore. I’ve been at the same University, trying to complete the same degree program for almost 5.5 years now. Climbing is the main culprit for that. Therefore, throughout the entire semester, leading up until the few weeks before Veteran’s Day weekend, I was on the edge of whether I should really head out to Bishop again this year or not. My class schedule lined up perfectly, weather was supposed to be outstanding, and I had a friend that need the experience of American climbing culture. We were going, no matter how much it may hurt us later.
Friday before we were going to leave I was still frantically trying to gather everything I needed for the trip, I ended up not being able to pack my car before my last class at 4:10pm. So Alex and I were forced to leave around 7:15pm by the time my car got packed and we got a last-minute item from our friend Miguel. A late start to an already late night on the road, it is what it is and we went with it. We stopped in Vegas to grab some gas and Chipotle, which of course didn’t help the situation that we were already exhausted from a long week and were now trying to drive 8.5 hours to CA. Alex took over driving from this point on and I faded in and out of consciousness as we headed straight into a black hole passing nothing but dirt on either side. Later he said that was the worst experience driving he’s pretty much ever had. By the time we were 15 miles outside of Bishop I was awake enough to know that Alex was now falling asleep at the wheel and I caught the steering wheel as we almost drifted off the road. My turn to drive again. I got us to the campsite that I went to before, it was free and only 10 minutes from the Buttermilks and about 15 minutes from town. It was now 3:40am Arizona time, 2:40am California. I was stoked to finally be arriving at a spot where we could just pass out and not care about anything else until we woke up the next morning, I know the feeling was mutual with Alex too. Nothing was planned, luckily, for the day with the Craggin’ Classic since Alex and I weren’t able to sign up for either of the clinics that we were interested in. So with the full day open to any amount of possibilities we were able to make some coffee, hang out, eat, and waste most of the day away.
We didn’t want to completely waste the entire day though, and I was too wrecked from the drive the night before to try and climb anything hard. I threw out a recommendation to just go for an “acclimation” hike into the mountains a short drive from our site, then afterwards just head to the Craggin’ Classic for food, beer, and other climber shenanigans. As we got to the trailhead to try our luck at Mt. Humphrey’s (CA) it was nearing 11:15am and we figured we’d just throw whatever we can in our packs to get them up to weight and allow us to see how well our fitness level was for the big approach into Bear Creek Spire the next day. Included in the miscellaneous items that we put in our packs was a minimal amount of water, but a maximum amount of brews and Clif Bars. As well as both of our cameras, for whatever reason, a complete rack, ropes, shoes, and some extra clothing. Nothing better than the feeling of knowing that you have absolutely no plan, no idea where you are headed, but you feel confident enough to handle whatever comes your way with the shit you have in your pack.
November 2014
Written by: Mac McCaleb 11/14/2014
What does an American, a Slovenian, Bishop, CA, beer, and a big piece of rock have in common? I’m still trying to figure that one out. All I can say is that over the weekend prior to Veteran’s day they were all a part of my life in a way that only climbing could probably bring together. While I haven’t chased nearly as many marmots in the alpine as many of my peers have, I’ve done enough to know now that a lot of the time things go wrong. However, after enough time spent being wet, cold, tired, hungry, or all four, the requirements to successfully finish a goal from start to finish finally become routine and completing a planned objective is the final result.
This was only the second time being out in the East Sierras for myself, and a first for Alex. Last year at almost the exact same time I headed out to the American Alpine Club’s Craggin’ Classic to participate in climber-oriented festivities and a clean-up of the local Buttermilk Boulders. The first time I was able to go with a long-time friend and climbing partner to attempt the North Arête of Bear Creek Spire. Bear Creek Spire lays 6.25 miles deep into the East Sierras from the Mosquito Flats Trailhead, which requires a 20 minute drive in form Tom’s Place. It’s a remote setting with an abundant amount of visitors during the summer, but come snow the numbers significantly drop to very few. Alex and I were the few.
This December Alex is graduating and then heading back home to Slovenia, where he’ll be able to continue to experience the variety of different types of climbing that Europe has to offer. Unfortunately, he hasn’t had too much time available to spend out in the mountains around the United States. This is easy to imagine since being in Arizona the closest mountain ranges are either an 8.5 or a 14.5 hour drive away. I mentioned this event to him in August at the beginning of the semester and immediately he wanted to go, giving no fucks to what was required for classes or normal life. Even though he had a severe case of the “give no fucks” attitude towards classes, I couldn’t afford that anymore. I’ve been at the same University, trying to complete the same degree program for almost 5.5 years now. Climbing is the main culprit for that. Therefore, throughout the entire semester, leading up until the few weeks before Veteran’s Day weekend, I was on the edge of whether I should really head out to Bishop again this year or not. My class schedule lined up perfectly, weather was supposed to be outstanding, and I had a friend that need the experience of American climbing culture. We were going, no matter how much it may hurt us later.
Friday before we were going to leave I was still frantically trying to gather everything I needed for the trip, I ended up not being able to pack my car before my last class at 4:10pm. So Alex and I were forced to leave around 7:15pm by the time my car got packed and we got a last-minute item from our friend Miguel. A late start to an already late night on the road, it is what it is and we went with it. We stopped in Vegas to grab some gas and Chipotle, which of course didn’t help the situation that we were already exhausted from a long week and were now trying to drive 8.5 hours to CA. Alex took over driving from this point on and I faded in and out of consciousness as we headed straight into a black hole passing nothing but dirt on either side. Later he said that was the worst experience driving he’s pretty much ever had. By the time we were 15 miles outside of Bishop I was awake enough to know that Alex was now falling asleep at the wheel and I caught the steering wheel as we almost drifted off the road. My turn to drive again. I got us to the campsite that I went to before, it was free and only 10 minutes from the Buttermilks and about 15 minutes from town. It was now 3:40am Arizona time, 2:40am California. I was stoked to finally be arriving at a spot where we could just pass out and not care about anything else until we woke up the next morning, I know the feeling was mutual with Alex too. Nothing was planned, luckily, for the day with the Craggin’ Classic since Alex and I weren’t able to sign up for either of the clinics that we were interested in. So with the full day open to any amount of possibilities we were able to make some coffee, hang out, eat, and waste most of the day away.
We didn’t want to completely waste the entire day though, and I was too wrecked from the drive the night before to try and climb anything hard. I threw out a recommendation to just go for an “acclimation” hike into the mountains a short drive from our site, then afterwards just head to the Craggin’ Classic for food, beer, and other climber shenanigans. As we got to the trailhead to try our luck at Mt. Humphrey’s (CA) it was nearing 11:15am and we figured we’d just throw whatever we can in our packs to get them up to weight and allow us to see how well our fitness level was for the big approach into Bear Creek Spire the next day. Included in the miscellaneous items that we put in our packs was a minimal amount of water, but a maximum amount of brews and Clif Bars. As well as both of our cameras, for whatever reason, a complete rack, ropes, shoes, and some extra clothing. Nothing better than the feeling of knowing that you have absolutely no plan, no idea where you are headed, but you feel confident enough to handle whatever comes your way with the shit you have in your pack.
(Just vastness. That's all you need to quickly gain perspective. Photo: Alex Kraljic)
(Couldn't have asked for any more perfect bluebird day! Photo: Alex Kraljic)
(Serenity within the shadows. Photo: Alex Kraljic)
The entire walk up the valley the views kept amazing us and we gained more elevation and the vastness of the area kept expanding. Throughout the duration of walking along the trail Alex and I kept getting the feeling that more time has actually passed then it did, we were in fact in fairly good condition and we were both able to make really good time up a steep gradient with our packs fully loaded. I was impressed at myself and what we were doing. Alex and I had the original idea of summiting Mt. Humphrey’s, which is one of the several 14er’s in the East Sierras. I started to come to the realization as we kept walking up and up that we probably weren’t going to summit, it was an audacious goal to put on ourselves. We decided to just head up a slope and try to gain the ridge to the summit. Only about 25% of the way up I stopped on a flat rock with Alex. I looked behind us and thought to myself, “Why do we need to summit? Look at the view that is directly behind us, and it will only get further away as we go higher.” I told Alex to pull out the beers and the Clif Bars. Without hesitation he pulled the cooler out of his pack and then within moments we were taking in the afternoon sun and drinking some excellent beer, while overlooking a valley of giants.
(All you need for a well-rounded lunch. Photo: Alex Kraljic)
(Endless valleys, endless possibilities. Photo: Alex Kraljic)
Unfortunately at this part of our hike the time went by too quickly, it’s funny how it always works that way. Before we knew it we only had a few hours to hike back down and drive back North of Bishop to get the food, more beer, and attend the climbers’ event. When we arrived back at the car it was dark and I realized I didn’t really know when the event was supposed to actually start. I just kind of presumed it started around 6pm. Turns out by the time we arrived the event had been going on for over 45 minutes and all of the “free” food provided by a vendor was already gone. Alex and I didn’t find this out until after we bought our tickets for admission and our extra raffle tickets though. So we went into the venue, which was actually outside, and the first thing I see is the massive amount of people that were there. There were about 50-percent more people than last year and this provided a small problem. The venue is indoor/outdoor and once the presentation by Dave Nettle got started and everyone went inside there was absolutely nowhere to sit, or even stand. Not to mention inside immediately became extremely hot and full of all the wonderful dirtbag stench we all love. That was only the bad part though, there’s always some good that can still come out of an over-packed event.
When Alex and I first walked in, the first person that passed us was Cheyne Lemp. A recently- sponsored Yosemite Search and Rescue-Climber that is the same age as Alex and myself, but dropped out of college once he got into the dirtbag lifestyle after a single trip to Patagonia. A truly sincere guy that was fortunate enough to be able to follow his dreams and turn them into reality. Alex and I talked to him for a short while and he helped give us insight on the current conditions for the Sierras. Evidently there was a storm that came through and dumped some much-needed precipitation in the range a few weeks prior, good for the mountains, bad for Alex and me. After talking with Cheyne, Alex and I found out the food was all gone, so we got a recommendation to head back into town to refuel on pizza. We were both completely famished at this point and barely had anything except for beer and Clif bars the entire day. Alex and I were told that the raffle would start promptly at 8pm. Perfect, exactly an hour and 20 minutes until we need to be back. Plenty of time to go get the largest pizza and completely destroy it.
After getting back to the Mill Creek Station venue a few minutes before 8pm, we immediately heard them already calling raffle ticket numbers. I push through the crowd to the front and immediately come to find that most of the items have already been raffled away! I was fairly disappointed with this, but Alex and I stuck around for the last remaining items to see if our numbers would get called, they didn’t. In the back of my mind I really didn’t feel bad about the amount of money I spent because this last summer I was subsidized by the AAC to take a climbing trip. I actually owed them, and maybe when I apply for another grant I’ll get that money back again anyways. I did feel sympathy for Alex though, I promised him a great return on his investment and all he got was some schwag, a beer, a loud crowd, and a hot room of stench.
It was my fault too that we didn’t get a seat in the room for the presentation because I was settling payment with some items I won at over 65-percent off at the silent auction that was going on. While I was paying for the items, Alex waited, and everyone else stormed inside to grab a seat. When we realized there was nowhere for us to stay, I gave Alex the option to head back to the campsite and hang out, and drink some more beer by a fire. We took the latter and enjoyed the rest of the night partially packing what we needed for Bear Creek Spire. It was time well spent and I was still exhausted from the day’s events anyways.
When Alex and I first walked in, the first person that passed us was Cheyne Lemp. A recently- sponsored Yosemite Search and Rescue-Climber that is the same age as Alex and myself, but dropped out of college once he got into the dirtbag lifestyle after a single trip to Patagonia. A truly sincere guy that was fortunate enough to be able to follow his dreams and turn them into reality. Alex and I talked to him for a short while and he helped give us insight on the current conditions for the Sierras. Evidently there was a storm that came through and dumped some much-needed precipitation in the range a few weeks prior, good for the mountains, bad for Alex and me. After talking with Cheyne, Alex and I found out the food was all gone, so we got a recommendation to head back into town to refuel on pizza. We were both completely famished at this point and barely had anything except for beer and Clif bars the entire day. Alex and I were told that the raffle would start promptly at 8pm. Perfect, exactly an hour and 20 minutes until we need to be back. Plenty of time to go get the largest pizza and completely destroy it.
After getting back to the Mill Creek Station venue a few minutes before 8pm, we immediately heard them already calling raffle ticket numbers. I push through the crowd to the front and immediately come to find that most of the items have already been raffled away! I was fairly disappointed with this, but Alex and I stuck around for the last remaining items to see if our numbers would get called, they didn’t. In the back of my mind I really didn’t feel bad about the amount of money I spent because this last summer I was subsidized by the AAC to take a climbing trip. I actually owed them, and maybe when I apply for another grant I’ll get that money back again anyways. I did feel sympathy for Alex though, I promised him a great return on his investment and all he got was some schwag, a beer, a loud crowd, and a hot room of stench.
It was my fault too that we didn’t get a seat in the room for the presentation because I was settling payment with some items I won at over 65-percent off at the silent auction that was going on. While I was paying for the items, Alex waited, and everyone else stormed inside to grab a seat. When we realized there was nowhere for us to stay, I gave Alex the option to head back to the campsite and hang out, and drink some more beer by a fire. We took the latter and enjoyed the rest of the night partially packing what we needed for Bear Creek Spire. It was time well spent and I was still exhausted from the day’s events anyways.
(Deciding that beer, fire, and packing were the most important things in life. In that order. Photo: Alex Kraljic)
The next morning Alex and I woke early to pack and then get the free breakfast provided by the AAC at the Buttermilks. This time I was not going to let Alex down and we were going to get free food and more schwag. We made it early and we were able to enjoy twice the breakfast and didn’t feel bad about it. After we ate we were tasked to help collect rocks along-side the road to re-construct the trail system that leads around the boulders. Between myself, Alex, and 3 others we filled up the back of a pick-up truck with rocks twice and then proceeded to help them carry the rocks to the locations where they were needed. Here Alex and I were trying to take it easy before our long approach into Bear Creek Spire in a few hours. Which of course didn’t happen, as I felt obligated to continue assisting the other volunteers until we were actually supposed to leave.
Shortly after moving the rocks around we left and headed straight to get the necessary paperwork and bear canister to be able to camp out back in the Sierras. We also stopped for a quick caffeine boost from the local Black Sheep Coffee shop, it’s basically mandatory to do so. When Alex and I finally arrived at the Mosquito Flats Trailhead we completed sorting our packs and then headed into the fading light. The only thing we really had going for us was that I had been out here before, once, about a year ago. Completely reminiscent of the previous experience we approached Morgan Pass as the last light went away and we reached Gem Lakes at complete darkness. Alex and I initially felt good and so we continued onward and up to complete the last 1,200 feet of elevation gain in the final 1.25 miles. That didn’t last long, my headlamp was fading and I only got a small bubble of light out of the complete darkness that consumed us. Even though I had been down this path before, there was no way to really navigate the talus field of shit that would be the next mile, so we opted to make base camp below this at the lake nestled in the trees. This turned out to be one of the best decisions we made.
Shortly after moving the rocks around we left and headed straight to get the necessary paperwork and bear canister to be able to camp out back in the Sierras. We also stopped for a quick caffeine boost from the local Black Sheep Coffee shop, it’s basically mandatory to do so. When Alex and I finally arrived at the Mosquito Flats Trailhead we completed sorting our packs and then headed into the fading light. The only thing we really had going for us was that I had been out here before, once, about a year ago. Completely reminiscent of the previous experience we approached Morgan Pass as the last light went away and we reached Gem Lakes at complete darkness. Alex and I initially felt good and so we continued onward and up to complete the last 1,200 feet of elevation gain in the final 1.25 miles. That didn’t last long, my headlamp was fading and I only got a small bubble of light out of the complete darkness that consumed us. Even though I had been down this path before, there was no way to really navigate the talus field of shit that would be the next mile, so we opted to make base camp below this at the lake nestled in the trees. This turned out to be one of the best decisions we made.
(Just as the fun was beginning. Photo: Alex Kraljic)
(Knowing you still have a ways to go, all you can do is be happy. Photo: Alex Kraljic)
(Last rays of light on the summit of Bear Creek Spire. Photo: Alex Kraljic)
(Darkness has fallen, and so has the desire to keep moving. Photo: Mac McCaleb)
(Always have enough time to brew up! Photo: Alex Kraljic)
Since we decided to stop early the night before and make camp at the lower lake, we were able to head up the talus in the morning to the spire with a really good pace. After leaving around 8:15am Alex and I made it up to the upper Dade Lake in under an hour and a half. This pace allowed us to take our time while heading up to the main ridge of the spire and so we made our way up the talus while minimally touching the snow by approximately 10:30am. I was psyched to have gained the ridge, but once we were there the wind picked up and it quickly became a time where constant movement upward was key. Looking up at the ridge there was a lot of snow, but not in spots that would make it hard to navigate. It looked like it wouldn’t be too difficult and the route would go at 5th class as stated in the guidebook and online. Excited to see that we would be able to make it up without any issues I pressed on after layering up to block the relentless wind. Alex followed as we worked around a few small towers coming out of the ridge, the exposure was exceptional and the climbing was fun. We came to one of the larger formations fairly quickly and I had it in my mind that this was about halfway up the ridge, so we should be on the top within no time. I told Alex we should stop for a minute and take in some more calories, so we sat on a bench-like feature and soaked in the sun on the side of the ridge that wasn’t windy. It was all good until I watched the sun start to set behind the summit ridge of Bear Creek Spire. It was fairly cold in the shade, and once the sun disappears it’s going to become more difficult to stay motivated to reach the summit.
(Reaching a small plateau, and coming into sight of Dade Lake, before the fun begins all over again. Photo: Alex Kraljic)
(Obligatory Bear Creek Spire shot from Dade Lake. Photo: Alex Kraljic)
(First step onto the ridge, finally off the snow. Photo: Alex Kraljic)
(Great exposure and an amazing backdrop. Photo: Alex Kraljic)
I looked ahead and noticed that the sections above were getting steeper and more technical, so I told Alex we should probably rope up. He agreed and we tied in, above me I was climbing 5.5 in moderate snow and in approach shoes. Not exactly what I was expecting or hoped for, but it wasn’t a big deal just yet. Also, Alex hadn’t ever used a half-rope system before, so what better way to learn than on the side of a 13,713’ peak while your partner is thrutching around in scree and post-holing like it’s going out of style. We did well and were making steady progress up the steeper terrain to gain the summit ridge. However, the amount of snow was increasing in spots that made navigating the easier ground difficult. We pressed on, with Alex in regular Nike running shoes nonetheless and started encountering sketchy areas of the route. Where it was clear that the terrain would be easy without the snow, it was now a complete nightmare to work through. Not knowing where we were supposed to be heading exactly, and with daylight slipping away from us a sense of urgency started to sink in.
Our “pitches” became shorter and shorter as we kept encountering false summits on the ridgeline and we were encountering rope drag due to the abnormal route we had to take to avoid the snow; also, to be able to communicate through the ever-pressing wind. Alex had to complete a lower off and then set up a belay so I could down climb to another ledge where he stood in shin-deep snow. He led another pitch following the base of, and then up to, the ridge to get us back to where we needed to be. We were so close to the summit we could see the massive block that marks the top. I took over the lead one last time, and I was getting slightly concerned with the climbing. Still in approach shoes, since it wasn’t nearly warm enough to put on the climbing shoes and we didn’t have time to make the switch over, I traversed on a very exposed wall completely covered in snow. The only piece I had was a very shallow 0.3C4 between me and a world of hurt. I stood in the same spot for several minutes brushing all of the snow off of every inch of the rock in front of me attempting to find better holds. Nothing. However, I after brushing more snow off I discovered a hidden crack and was able to place a shallow 0.75C4 a bit further along the traverse. With these two pieces in, they were merely mental protection, which is the false sense of security needed in order to gather the nerve to pull out of a sketchy situation.
I pulled around the corner and continued to a block I could easily belay from. Alex made quick work of the traverse, and entire pitch, he then continued onto the next pitch. Luckily this was the final belay, as I came to almost the heels of Alex I noticed several slings wrapped around a rock right below me. These slings had two rap rings on it. We had finally made it to the top of the route and the only way to go was back. At least that’s what I had in mind. I showed Alex the summit block above us about 15-20 meters, which was the very top of the mountain. I honestly had no desire to go up there, I could see the top and we finished the route, which was good enough for me. Alex wasn’t as comfortable as I was with not making it to the top, but once I told him we completed the route and tagging the summit was optional he seemed plenty satisfied to start heading back to camp. After all, it was not about 5pm and the sun would be setting in about 45 minutes, where we had at least a 3 hour trudge to get back down to the tent. We watched the sun set, took some photos, hydrated, and ate some more before we started heading back down the slope on the west side of the spire.
Our “pitches” became shorter and shorter as we kept encountering false summits on the ridgeline and we were encountering rope drag due to the abnormal route we had to take to avoid the snow; also, to be able to communicate through the ever-pressing wind. Alex had to complete a lower off and then set up a belay so I could down climb to another ledge where he stood in shin-deep snow. He led another pitch following the base of, and then up to, the ridge to get us back to where we needed to be. We were so close to the summit we could see the massive block that marks the top. I took over the lead one last time, and I was getting slightly concerned with the climbing. Still in approach shoes, since it wasn’t nearly warm enough to put on the climbing shoes and we didn’t have time to make the switch over, I traversed on a very exposed wall completely covered in snow. The only piece I had was a very shallow 0.3C4 between me and a world of hurt. I stood in the same spot for several minutes brushing all of the snow off of every inch of the rock in front of me attempting to find better holds. Nothing. However, I after brushing more snow off I discovered a hidden crack and was able to place a shallow 0.75C4 a bit further along the traverse. With these two pieces in, they were merely mental protection, which is the false sense of security needed in order to gather the nerve to pull out of a sketchy situation.
I pulled around the corner and continued to a block I could easily belay from. Alex made quick work of the traverse, and entire pitch, he then continued onto the next pitch. Luckily this was the final belay, as I came to almost the heels of Alex I noticed several slings wrapped around a rock right below me. These slings had two rap rings on it. We had finally made it to the top of the route and the only way to go was back. At least that’s what I had in mind. I showed Alex the summit block above us about 15-20 meters, which was the very top of the mountain. I honestly had no desire to go up there, I could see the top and we finished the route, which was good enough for me. Alex wasn’t as comfortable as I was with not making it to the top, but once I told him we completed the route and tagging the summit was optional he seemed plenty satisfied to start heading back to camp. After all, it was not about 5pm and the sun would be setting in about 45 minutes, where we had at least a 3 hour trudge to get back down to the tent. We watched the sun set, took some photos, hydrated, and ate some more before we started heading back down the slope on the west side of the spire.
(Sporting the best approach shoes. Photo: Alex Kraljic)
(When you realize, it's always worth it. Photo: Alex Kraljic)
(Taking it in. Photo: Mac McCaleb)
In the guidebook it states that there is a walk down back to Dade Lake, or there are a series of rappels that can be completed to make it back into the basin. Alex and I looked at the edge of the ridge at several locations where there may be a rap station set up to get us back down the other side. Unfortunately we did not find any rap station and so we chose a notch which had a shorter steep section of snow-covered talus and then wrapped a horn with a sling and ‘biner to rappel off of ourselves. This single rappel led us to the start of a fairly long and tedious process of finding our way back to Dade Lake. It was quickly realized that the snow was just unavoidable at this point and so the post-holing began. Progress was slow, tedious, and wet. We managed to just keep moving back to where we needed to go, that was our peace of mind, movement. It’s knowing that eventually, no matter how blinded you are by the darkness or how fatigued you are from the day, you’ll get to where you want to be. The motivation for warm feet and a place to let our head’s rest found us the tracks of one other individual, which we followed on the approach up to the Northeast Ridge. The tracks disappeared and reappeared at random, but we made it to Dade Lake.
(It helps every once in a while to just look up. Photo: Alex Kraljic)
It felt like at least 10:30pm, but in fact it was only 7:15pm. The bottom line is that I was wrecked, completely and totally wrecked, but we still had an additional 1.25 miles to go down back to camp. Alex and I paused and took in some more food and water for a few minutes at Dade Lake, then started heading back down more scree. For the most part this section of the hike back was a lot milder compared to that of the required trudging through the snow the previous 1.5 hours. On the way down there are two smaller lakes that we walked by until we reached camp at Gem Lakes. At the second lake I was so disheartened to come to the realization that it wasn’t in fact our lake, but just one of the several we needed to pass in order to get back. I was mentally losing it and trying to hold myself together at the same time. All while leading the way for the trail to get back. Somehow, by complete luck, Alex and I consistently ran into the cairns that we had actually missed on the way up which marked the best route to take through the snow-covered scree and talus.
The feeling of getting back into sight of the tent after of 12 hours straight was astounding. When we got back we talked for a few minutes about whether or not we should continue back out that night. Alex and I originally discussed that if we weren’t too trashed it would be great to head out and grab some actual food. However, since we were in fact exhausted and we had some food left over I was not feeling an additional 4.25 mile hike back out to the car, only to have to re-establish camp again and scour the small town of Bishop for a fast-food chain that was still open. The latter wasn’t ideal, so we opted to stay another night and then leave in the morning. I started a fire and we ate what was left of our food while we waited for our shoes to dry out for the hike out the next day.
The feeling of getting back into sight of the tent after of 12 hours straight was astounding. When we got back we talked for a few minutes about whether or not we should continue back out that night. Alex and I originally discussed that if we weren’t too trashed it would be great to head out and grab some actual food. However, since we were in fact exhausted and we had some food left over I was not feeling an additional 4.25 mile hike back out to the car, only to have to re-establish camp again and scour the small town of Bishop for a fast-food chain that was still open. The latter wasn’t ideal, so we opted to stay another night and then leave in the morning. I started a fire and we ate what was left of our food while we waited for our shoes to dry out for the hike out the next day.
(Wet shoes, wet socks, dry spirits! Photo: Alex Kraljic)
The night before Alex would not stop talking about how much he just wanted a big “American” meal, preferably breakfast. Once him and I finally made it back to my car after the endless walk back we drove down to Tom’s Place to grab some food. We got there around 10:30am, 30 minutes before they stopped serving breakfast, perfect. Alex got his ‘Merican breakfast of country-fried steak and then once 11am came along we ordered more food from the lunch menu. We had gotten our food and now the only part left to do was to drive back to Prescott for another 8.5 hours. I drove the entire way back this time and we were able to actually make it back in just under 7.5 hours.
(One satisfied Slovenian! Photo: Mac McCaleb)
During those 7.5 hours I was able to think about the past experience and how things improved over the current experience. As I was going through everything I was slowly coming to the realization that not much different had really changed from the last time I was out in the Sierras. In fact, only slight refinements throughout the entire process made the difference between success and failure. The learning curve for success is long and it always takes time to make everything perfect to achieve outrageous goals. However, in order to make progress along that curve small refinements need to be made. This trip was exactly what was needed in order to progress onwards onto bigger things. I’m not sure what will be next, but I know I will probably fail the first time, which is exactly what I’ll need to succeed in the future.
Geshido,
Mac
Geshido,
Mac
(Road to nowhere and everywhere. Photo: Alex Kraljic)
Some footage from the route..