It was time for my glory photo on top of Half Dome. Well, on the “diving board” anyway. It seemed to take Scott forever to take the photo. With each passing second, I got more nervous about this perch and my presence on it. Just because the rock supporting this perch has been there for millions of years doesn’t guarantee it will be there 2 minutes from now. He gave me a thumb’s up, and I got the hell off of there.
Continued from Part 8: Facing Fear on Half Dome.
In another moment of great timing, I had run into Joel and Scott, two of the guys who shared their campfire with me two nights earlier, as they were making their summit bid. Where I had failed alone, we would succeed together. We headed up the 423 stairs, pausing briefly here and there, until we reached the slab route. Since I had done it earlier, I led them up to the trail duck and over the hump to the base of the cables. Joel would go first. He was the mountain climber and would be our eyes. I would go second. Scott would follow me.
There were several other people on the cables, including an obviously exhausted large man and his two associates, who were pushing him, literally, up the mountain. Joel directed us up each 10-20 foot section, telling me where to stop and warning me of anything I had to step over or around. I kept my eyes on the rock, and my hands on the cables. I maintained three points of contact with the mountain and cables, only moving one limb at a time. We climbed swiftly, our combined weight on the cables providing good tension. The only dicey parts were the two spots where one pair of cables ended and another began and the really steep section, which features a large step at an awkward angle. We were slowed by the huffing progress of the man and his crew, but he eventually got to the top, and so did we. We made it! We were on top of Half Dome! It took us 35 minutes, during which I looked at nothing but the path beneath my feet and Joel’s shoes.
Already the view was incredible. This is what Clouds Rest and the Quarter Domes look like from the top of the cables. Columbia Finger, the Echo Peaks, and even Cathedral Peak are visible on the horizon to the left of Clouds Rest. On the firm ground of the gently sloping, saddle-shaped summit plateau, I found new energy and now wanted to explore it all. Joel had already headed back down to meet his father and uncle, who he escorted up, leaving Scott and me on top.
From the top of the cables, the summit proper is still about 100 vertical feet away. Scott and I initially headed across the saddle, bypassing the summit to the left, making for what is often mistakenly called the “diving board.” The views from here look straight across at Glacier Point and west down Yosemite Valley to El Capitan and beyond.
The shadows from the clouds gave the panorama a mottled look, softening what would have otherwise been the harsh light of the sun washing out the granite cliffs. Unfortunately, the haze from wildfires and agriculture had returned, confirming that the monsoonal flow had indeed shifted east of the Sierra crest. I continued to walk closer to the edge while Scott waited back. “Vertigo,” he said. “I don’t like drop-offs.” Me neither. I was trying not to think about the fact that one step too far means a fall of at least 2,000 feet.
Pictured here is the true summit, 8,836 feet above sea level and 4,742 feet above Mirror Meadow/Lake, which is situated at the mouth of Tenaya Canyon and through which Tenaya Creek flows. This photo is taken several dozen feet from the summit’s so-calle “diving board.” The real diving board is about 1,200 feet below the summit to the southwest and is seldom visited, for obvious reasons. The photo shows dramatic Tenaya Canyon beneath the brooding Watkins Pinnacles and Mount Watkins. The crown of Mount Hoffman is on the left edge of the frame.
Scott took my camera and headed for the summit. It was time for my glory photo on top of Half Dome. Well, on the “diving board” anyway.
It seemed to take Scott forever to take the photo. With each passing second, I got more nervous about this perch and my presence on it. Just because the rock supporting this perch has been there for millions of years doesn’t guarantee it will be there 2 minutes from now. He gave me a thumb’s up, and I got the hell off of there. We traded places, and I watched him gingerly make his way out to the point. We went over to check on the other guys’ progress up the cables and found Joel nearing the top. Cory and Uncle Bob were right behind him, and they were united on top. Cory later told me he brought the boys up here when they were 12. “Boy was I stupid,” he added, self-reflectively.
This time we made a line for the summit, and I hopped the boulders until I was, finally, on top of Half Dome. I have no photo of this moment, because at that moment the guys were gathering on the “diving board,” and Scott needed some coaxing. “I’ve been out there once already. That’s enough,” he said. I implored that it was a once-in-a-lifetime family moment, and then pushed him on his way.
We played musical cameras, and I think I took this photo at least five times, once with my camera, and at least once each with all of theirs. Behind them are the cliffs and peaks known as the Three Brothers, and over their shoulders to the left is El Capitan. Notice that huge slab of granite beneath them? Now look at the little cave to its left. I watched people climb in and out of it when I was on top. Suffice it to say, I did not do that.
I did will myself to overcome my fear of edges, albeit for only a few seconds. I walked as close to the edge as I felt comfortable, then challenged myself to take another step. Then another. Then another. Then … okay, that’s far enough.
I extended my arms straight out and took this photo, which look all 4,742 feet straight down to Mirror Meadow. That granite outcrop at the lower right of the frame? 2,200 feet away. That’s one helluva next step.
We explored the summit area for about 45 minutes, and the GPS says I wandered around for over a mile. The guys were hiking out that day and couldn’t linger much longer, so we posed for a final round of photos.
I had not allowed myself to think about heading down the cables. For me, the trip down is always worse. Joel took the lead, I was next, then Scott, Cory, and Uncle Bob. Several other folks lined in behind us. I started out facing frontwards, watching the rock curve away under me until I turned around and backed down the mountain. Joel was calling out to me, but I frequently had to look over my shoulder at the steady stream of people heading up. There were several awkward steps, and I slipped several times. Once, I lost both feet out from under me; only my death grip on the cables kept me upright.
The traffic caused multiple delays. Twice I was stuck between 2×4s and had to place my feet within cracks in the granite. At one point, I had to swing my body sideways to permit a larger hiker with a comically large pack to go by. As I did, my eyes lazily looked to the side, and I saw the wickedly steep slope and Liberty Cap in the distance. I thought for a second that I might faint, but Joel helpfully reminded me, “Look at the rock!” There was a lot of communication among everyone, as we tried our best to maneuver past each other safely. It took 40 minutes to descend, and I had to wait for a trio to get by me before I sprinted down the last 45 feet. “Get me off of these (expletive deleted) things!”
The cables behind us, now we face the steep descent down the granite slabs, aiming for that bent-over tree, underneath which a hiker is reaching the 423rd and final step. From there, the staircase ends the serious exposure of the hike. With the sun high in the sky, the view of Tenaya Canyon, Clouds Rest, and the distant peaks is clear. We traded contact information, as it was clear our time together was ending.
Joel and Scott led the way down and soon were out of sight. Cory, Uncle Bob, and I hiked together all the way back to my campsite just above the John Muir Trail junction, and there we parted company. I planned on hanging out in my campsite for awhile, soaking up the heady rush of having overcome my fears, with help, and spent some time atop Yosemite’s crown jewel. However, the site which was so wonderfully shaded the previous afternoon was now in the full sun. I broke camp, packed up, and hit the trail. I was bound for the backpackers’ camp in Little Yosemite Valley. The trail descended rapidly through mostly forest, but occasionally, views would open up, including a vision of Half Dome which put the day in perspective.
From the top of Half Dome to Little Yosemite Valley, trails descend more than 2,600 feet — half a mile — in elevation in a little over 3 miles. The first 1,100 or so feet go fast, between the cables, the slab, and the stairs. The remainder is a fairly steady downward trek, mostly devoid of switchbacks, through forests with occasional views. This particular view of the backside of Half Dome added to my sense of accomplishment and triumph. Just 2 1/2 hours earlier, I was up there!
From this vantage point, the cable route slices up at an angle to perpendicular, something which is not obvious from the base of the cables. Its steepness is apparent from the angle the people are standing at, and the two really gnarly step-ups are also plainly visible as dark gashes in the rock. These are, of course, shadows cast by the exfoliated granite. At some point in time, the rest of that rock layer crashed to earth. According to my GPS data, the cable route has an average slope of 36 degrees. The steepest part, between those gnarly steps, is closer to 50.
No matter how the math works out, the route is crazy scary, and it’s definitely a once-in-a-lifetime thrill. Because I’ll never do it again.
I continued walking a happy man. I did what I came to do. The crown has its jewel. “You would’ve been really disappointed if you hadn’t made it to the top,” Joel told me, and I think he’s right. I would not have known what I missed, but I know I would have missed something grand and extraordinary. A triumphant trip would be missing its signature triumph.
With a big smile on my face, I continued my descent to Little Yosemite Valley, passing the haggard faces of dayhikers rising from the big Valley. Exhausted, complaining, dragging their feet, their almost empty bottled waters at their sides, they still had half a mile of elevation to go to taste the joy, and the palpable fear, of Half Dome. It was only 12:30 p.m., so they had plenty of time. Still, the worst was yet to come. I encouraged them. “It’s spectacular up there. It’s totally worth it.” They’d usually mutter, “Thanks,” if they said anything at all, and trudge on joylessly.
This would be my last night on the trail, and it was going to be a great one because I overcame my fears and experienced the top of Half Dome. I needed help. Without those guys, I would not have made the summit of Half Dome and instead be forced to explain why I hadn’t accomplished something hundreds of people do every summer day. “You just needed some encouragement,” Joel told me. “A little company.” Scott added, “It’s tough to do something like this alone.”
Continues in Part 10: The Final Miles.
The complete trip report:
Part 1: Glacier Point Dayhike
Part 2: Porcupine and Yosemite Creeks
Part 3: Entering Yosemite’s Grand Canyon
Part 4: Walking Among the Waterfalls
Part 5: Glen Aulin to Cathedral Lakes
Part 6: The Tempest
Part 7: Sunrise to Clouds Rest
Part 8: Facing Fear on Half Dome
Part 9: Triumph Atop Half Dome
Part 10: The Final Miles
Part 11: From Woods to Wharves
Part 12: The Streets of San Francisco
Part 13: Muir Woods and Foggy Shores
Potentially related posts:
- Family Moment on Half Dome
- Yosemite Valley From Half Dome
- Heading Down From Half Dome
- Half Dome Cables
- Half Dome Summit Trio
- Tenaya Canyon and Half Dome’s Summit
- Half Dome From Little Yosemite Valley
Tags: half dome, half dome trail, jul08 yosemite trip, summit views, yosemite national park