What difference is there from one high lake to another? The stones on the shore are mostly the same. The water is always hydrogen and oxygen. Sure, one thousand-foot pile of rocks might not look exactly like another thousand-foot pile of rocks, but what new lessons do rock piles have to teach me, anyway? What novelty do the mountains really offer?
Clouds Rest has been on my radar since the first time I’d been to Yosemite. Its airy summit ridge, its enormous northwest face, its centrality within the park, and its views of Half Dome and Yosemite Valley make it a must for any Yosemite adventurer. Its ease of access, though, has always put me off. Clouds Rest gets a lot of visitors, and because of that, it’s taken years for me to make the trek.
At breakfast, the weather service called for a one-percent chance of snow. Why would they consider that a chance at all? Why not just round to zero? We laughed about it as we wolfed down toast and eggs. After months of drought and no indication from long-term weather forecasts, there was no way it would snow today. We finished our breakfast, got into the car, and drove out to the trailhead. We had in mind to climb Mount Tallac, one of the more prominent and recognizable peaks of the Tahoe area and Desolation Wilderness.
We’ve had three years of drought in California, and the snowpack is at record lows for late January, but Lance, George, and I were determined to have some mountain fun anyway. We packed our car, filled our mugs with coffee, and headed for the hills. The day’s agenda was fluid, but we had in mind to climb Round Top and the taller of The Sisters depending on snow conditions.
Today was the big day. Everything else we had done on this trip was only a warm-up to today. We rolled out of our sleeping bags, threw some food into our backpacks, and hiked out of the portal. Tons of people were already on the trail, headlamps bobbing up and down the trail in the dark. The nervous excitement was palpable.
We woke up late, thinking that Dunderberg Peak would be a quick morning hike. Not much higher than 12,000 feet, we figured it’d be a short scramble to the top and that we would get back in time to lounge around camp for a few hours before dinner. As is typical, though, this hike turned into a bear of a day.
Adventures start with planning, but great adventures start when our plans fall through. When we accomplish our goals, we understand strength, but when we see a world of possibilities beyond our goals, we understand freedom. Plans create the skeletons for our adventures, but detours create the flesh.
We had one last full day in Denali. We we’re going to climb a peak. We took a shuttle to the Savage River rest stop, since that was the farthest we could go without paying for a ticket. There are few trails in Denali National Park, but one of them follows the Savage River for a mile or two, crosses a bridge, then returns on the other side. This area was perhaps crowded by Alaska standards, but it was much quieter than any trail in the Sierra.
We woke up to large pieces of ice on our tent. It was cold, but the rain had stopped. We packed up camp and hiked back across the tundra to the road. It was too early and cold to wait for a bus, so we walked the three or four miles West to the Eielson Visitor Center. Here we sat for an hour, warming our bones and resting up for the remainder of our hike. For a few moments the clouds broke, and we could see Denali (Mount McKinley). Above the snowy peaks sat clouds, and above the clouds stood the highest peak in North America. It was a sight to behold.
After years of dreaming, Jon and I finally bought plane tickets to Alaska. Our original plan was to hike into the Chugach Mountains outside of Anchorage, but a week before our trip we threw that plan out. Instead, we’d hike through the larger, more wild, more remote Denali National Park. Of course, getting from California to the backcountry of the Alaskan interior is a complicated logistical affair. One does not simply walk into the Alaska Range.