I'd actually been trying to climb Grizzly Peak in Yosemite Valley for three or four years. Four or five times I'd planned on it, only once actually attempted it, and it has been on my hit list longer than any other peak. To others this was a strange peak to be coveting, even for a peakbagger - it is dwarfed by nearby Half Dome and has no popular routes to the summit - not one. The peak is located very near to Happy Isle at the eastern end of the valley. The popular Vernal Fall Trail (also the start of the John Muir Trail) follows along the west and south sides of the peak. In summer hundreds of visitors pass under its flanks every day, its summit just one of dozens of magnificent sights to be seen along the trail. I must have passed by at least a dozen times in the last ten years, and it has always caught my attention as something I'd like to scale.
Driving into Yosemite Valley shortly before 7a, Matthew drove us along Southside
Drive while I stared up at the granite towers with my usual awe, but also with a
more discerning eye this morning. In particular I was interested to see the
conditions on Middle Cathedral Rock for our planned adventure the following day.
There was snow at the summit, but from what I could see the technical sections on
the NW side were completely dry. Driving around Lower Cathedral Rock I got a quick
glimpse up to Gunsight, and could see that there was some snow in the gully -
crampons and axe would be in order. We drove past Curry Village and directly to
the JMT 
parking lot in front of Glacier Point's apron. Here we got our
stuff sorted
out and filled up our packs with gear, clothes, and water. We chose to take a
short 30m, 8mm rope, a few pieces of pro, and a handful of slings. Most of Gizzly's
SW Arete we expected to be scrambling with a few short sections of technical
climbing. Roper has the route rated class 4, but a trip report we read from Jim
Curl had it more like 5.7, and knowing Roper's penchant for sandbagging (more
accurately, class 4 back in the day was a more serious exercise) we were
more apt to believe the second source.
Shortly after 7a we headed out, a quick potty break at Happy Isle, across the
Merced River on the old stone bridge, about a hundred yards along the JMT, and
then we left the trail to head cross-country for Sierra Point. Not exactly
cross-country, and not unfamiliar territory - we'd both been up to Sierra Point
via a long-abandoned 
trail that leads up the west side of the SW Arete to a
lookout point about halfway up to Grizzly's summit. It was "discovered" by
Charles Bailey in 1897, and named for the Sierra Club (Charles died in a 400-foot
fall during the first ascent of El Cap Gully). A gas-pipe railing was
installed sometime later and is still firmly fixed to the rock at the lookout, a
unique vantage point where four of Yosemite's major waterfalls can be seen at the
same time: 
Yosemite, 
Vernal, Nevada, and 
Illilouette Falls.
After a few hundred
yards we came across the old trail (only the first section was torn up when the
trail was abandoned, apparently there were too many injuries to visitors traveling
on the steep, rough trail), and we followed this to its end. We reached Sierra
Point by 7:30a, which is generally regarded as the starting point for Grizzly's
SW Arete.
From Sierra Point we 
scrambled over class 3 rock along the south side of
the arete, climbing about a hundred yards to a prominent 
cairn which marks
the highpoint I had reached on my attempt several years earlier. John Wang and I
had come this far without any beta, and consequently without any rope or gear, and
were stymied by
the class 5 rock we found before us. This time we wasted no time getting out our
rope, putting on our harnesses and rock shoes, and starting off on the technical
section. I was fairly confident that I could lead the section (how hard can 5.7
be?) and boldly climbed up to face the rock. I put in a piece of protection to
avoid a pendulum off the thin ledge should I fall, and went about examining the
rock above me for holds. Immediately I ran into trouble. The route up was
overhanging, not terribly much, but the holds I could find gave me no confidence
that I could pull myself safely up and over the obstacle. I tried jamming my hand,
my arm, anything I could in the little alcove above me, but it seemed rather
tenuous. I searched for other holds outside but found nothing to boost my
confidence. Stymied, I announced to Matthew that I was going to try plan B, an
alternative route that followed a narrow, slanting ledge up and to the right. The
ledge was about a foot wide, but the main problem with it was a bulging rock that
overhung the ledge, pushing me off the ledge and over the 15-foot wall. My pack
was too bulky to let me get around and under the bulge. Backing off, I decided to
try again without my pack - we could haul it if necessary. But again I was foiled
on both route choices and had to admit defeat. Dang - we were making zero progress
in a hurry.
I came back down and let Matthew go up to give it a try. He had no confidence that
he could do better, but it gave me a chance to rest and also take pictures of
the section we were trying to surmount. There just had to be another
way - this seemed
harder than 5.7. Matthew was the first to spot another alternative, an open book
with cracks in its seam, further to the right. It would require a tricky downclimb
of about 10 feet from where the cairn was located, and we used the rope to protect
Matthew as he climbed down to the location beneath a large oak tree. It turned out
to be easier than it had looked, the rope only helping marginally. Once were both
down under the tree, Matthew 
headed up while I packed away the rope before
following him. The crack lead around the corner where we were confronted by a
30-foot cliff on the right. Matthew walked out on the narrow ledge above, looking
to find a way up to the left to a broader ledge about 10 feet above us. It was all
friction with poor handholds, making for nervous moments. Matthew backed off and
let me go at it. I found it similarly spicy, but managed to find some key holds
that weren't quite solid, but good enough to give me the confidence to walk out
over the exposure. I climbed up a short ways and then safely tucked myself under
some low branches from a tree above, then turned to wait for Matthew. I could have
lowered him a rope at this point, but Matthew decided to forgo the safety line and
followed the 
same path I'd taken through this section. His scrambling had
certainly grown bolder of late, a notable improvement since the previous summer.
The route continued upward, staying on the south side of the arete past a few short
class 4, grunge-filled 
dihedrals and onto easier class 3 rock. Just as we
were starting to think we
were set for cruising mode, the south side of the arete lost its set of easier
ledges as we were confronted by insurmountable cliffs. It looked like a dead end.
We tried a different tack and traversed left around the edge of the arete and onto
the west side. Lower down it had seemed the west side was fraught with cliffs, but
here we found some 
horizontal cracks in the large granite blocks that
allowed us to
traverse across a steep section. Next came a series of 
improbable ramps,
a single
path that led us up this side, just below the crest of the arete. The exposure was
significant and a bit unnerving, but the holds were fairly good. We inched our way
across a short 
knife-edged section, gingerly 
stepping off onto an
adjacent block
with some air between the two. By now we'd been scrambling about 2hrs since we'd
started up from Sierra Point (half that time was lost flailing with the rope) and
we came to what we concluded must be the crux. Matthew recalled Jim's description
of the crux 5.7 chimney mid-way through the route, and what we had before us
certainly fit the bill.
The chimney was short, maybe 15 feet total, and slanted to one side with two chockstones that looked more helpful than in the way. The problem with the chimney was getting into it. Our position was off to one side, and it looked difficult to manuever ourselves around the edge and into the chimney. We considered climbing down to gain the entrance, but the chimney was near vertical lower down and much more difficult. As we pulled out the rope and gear and started strapping into the equipment, I generously offered to let Matthew take the lead to hone his 5.7 lead skills. He was on to my cowardice in an instant and politely declined. I thought climbers liked to lead," Matthew commented. That might be so, but that didn't really describe me too well nor most of the people that I climb with. Shoes on, rope strapped on, I was ready to go. The first move was going to be bold or painful, depending on the outcome. I could see no way to protect it, so if I popped out it would mean a short pendulum and then splat against the rock. I left my pack with Matthew to make it easier to climb, though wondering if the pack wouldn't help protect my spine when I peeled off. A deep breath, then "Climbing!", Matthew's reply of "Climb on," and I was off. I lifted myself up and into the chimney, wedging myself firmly into the rock as quickly as I could safely manage. I started breathing again. "Hey, that wasn't as bad as I thought it would be," I called back. I inched myself up the chimney, moving my feet a few inches at a time, one on the rock face in front of me, one under my butt on the back face. When I could reach up to the chockstone I grabbed ahold and pulled myself up, mantling over the top. The hard part was over. Now I just had to stand up, climb atop the upper chockstone, and behind it I found a very snug cavern in the rock from where I could belay Matthew up.
I threaded some slings through the rocks to make an anchor and started hauling
the packs up. Mine came first, then Matthew's, though the second was a bit of a
struggle as I had to bash it a few times over the lower chockstone before it came
up. When I got it in my possession I noted 
the knot Matthew had used that
was a
few tugs from popping out and sending his pack about 300 feet down the west side
of the arete. It was a simple overhand on a bight with the loop end almost pulled
through. After he joined me there was a short lesson on tying packs more securely
for a haul. Matthew had little trouble with 
the chimney and soon we were
both
inside. We still had about 12 feet to go up the chimney before escaping through
a hole above us. It looked like some serious chimneying might be required straight
up to get us out, and this was my first thought. But upon further examination of
the 
airy cavern I found a circuitous, but less exposed way to climb up
and out of 
the hole in our ceiling. Above, still trailing the rope down
to Matthew, it
was like coming out onto a new climb. The opening was out onto the arete itself,
but it was a broader edge and the angle decreased to a much easier scramble
from this point. I hauled the two packs up one after another, then Matthew
came up in turn. We packed away the rope and harnesses, kept the rock
shoes on "just in case," took some 
pictures of the great 
views,
then 
started up the last 300 feet of 
class 2-3 towards the summit.
After about 10 minutes I decided to give the rock shoes (and my toes) a rest,
pausing to switch into my boots. Matthew elected to keep his rock shoes on and
got ahead of me a ways. I lost track of Matthew as he seemed to prefer staying on
the 
rockier arete edge to the right while
I chose the easier, but brushier ascent on the left side. 50 minutes after packing
up the rope I found my way to the summit, but no Matthew. I'd guessed I'd gotten
ahead while I took the easier bushwhack route. I found two football-sized rocks
stacked near the summit, but no register or other signs of earlier ascents. I was
disappointed to not find some summit signatures, thinking it might be an
interesting collection, but little matter. The views were as grand as I'd hoped,
even better than those from Sierra Point. In addition to the waterfall views
(
Vernal Falls looked to be just below us), one can see 
Half Dome,
Starr King, 
Glacier Point, 
North Dome, and most of
Yosemite Valley. All with a beautifully blue sky and mild
temperatures. Matthew joined me a few minutes later and went about taking his own
set of photos before we started down.
We both headed down to the west to get off the summit blocks, then I went ahead
in a counter-clockwise direction to get down to the east side of the peak. A short
70 feet below the summit I waited for Matthew some five minutes on the south side
of the peak before I began to think I had lost him somehow. I shouted to no avail.
I climbed back up to the summit expecting to find him engaged in adjusting his
pack or shoe laces or some such thing, but he was nowhere to be found. This was a
little distressing, not because I lost track of Matthew (that happens regularly),
but because it happened more quickly than it ever had before. I decided to head
down to the notch on the east side of Grizzly Peak just above LeConte Gully (where
we had both agreed we needed to head to). Retracing my spiraling route, I was
surprised yet again as I ran into Matthew a short ways past where I'd waited for
him earlier. Apparently he had gone clockwise around the summit in the opposite
direction, finding another way off the summit blocks. If he hadn't run into some
cliffs he'd have handily beaten me down to the notch. Once rejoined, we found the
advertised class 3 route down the east side and into the notch, with a
few places hard enough to keep it 
sporting and earn the class 3
rating.
From the notch we planned to head to 
Mt. Broderick, a modest peak
between Half
Dome and Liberty Cap that neither of us had been up before. We had first to climb
up partway along 
the shoulder from the notch towards Half Dome before
traversing right and 
down into the small valley between Half Dome
and Broderick. There was
a fair amount of bushwhacking in this section, though we got lucky in not having
to spend much time route-finding (looking back from near Broderick we found we
had managed to stumble upon the only obvious route through a cliff band down from
the shoulder - the alternative would have been climbing considerably higher,
nearly to the start of Snake Dike before being able to head back down). We stumbled
through the forest and some heavy bushwhacking in the area west of Lost Lake,
getting through the worst of it as we reached the north side of Broderick. We
suddenly found ourselves out of the brush and on a use trail, ducks everywhwere -
we the Snake Dike approach use trail.
We wandered around to the 
NE side of Broderick looking for the easiest
ascent
route, purported to be class 3. We found snow covering half of the broad slabs on
this side and decided the friction climb we expected would be a 
snow climb
instead.
Much of the rock that didn't have snow on it was wet from the afternoon melt, and
it seemed safer to travel on snow than rock in this case. I paused to put on my
crampons while Matthew chose to climb without them, both of us using our ice
axes. We
followed a Z-shaped route up the side of the peak which allowed us to stay on snow
the whole way and take the lowest angle approach (though faily steep in
places). The snow depth varied from
several feet to only a few inches, and I found that I was using my axe as a depth
gauge ahead of me to keep from dulling my crampons further than needed. It took
about 20 minutes to cover the distance on the snow. Our route curved around to
the east side, and higher up where the 
slope lessened the snow gave way
to dry slabs. We left our gear at the edge of the snow and hiked the remaining
short distance to 
the summit.
We found several small cairns, no register. The views took in parts of the Yosemite
High Country including Mts. 
Florence and Clark in the Cathedral
and Clark ranges
respectively. A large peak behind Mt. Florence could be seen to the left that
we guessed might be Mt. Ritter, but it may also have been Mt. Rodgers or another
peak on the Sierra crest in that vicinity. Looking over to
Liberty Cap just to the south and higher than Broderick, we briefly
discusses whether we should expend the
extra effort to scale it while we were here. We both expressed ambivalence, inside
thinking we should climb it, but hoping the other would make the decision
for us. It wasn't yet 3p, and it seemed a bit of waste to head back to the valley
with so much daylight remaining. We never actually verbalized the decision, but on
the way back down I decided to forgo Liberty Cap and take us down the
narrow valley
between Broderick and Liberty Cap as a way to use up some of the remaining time.
Normally it is pretty straightforward along a use trail that has developed over
the years, but now the gully was partially filled with snow and there were a lot
of downed trees to navigate through. The valley narrows the further west one goes,
and Matthew was duly impressed with it to comment on it. The walls of Broderick
and Liberty Cap rising strikingly on either side of narrow slice as we looked out
on the larger canyon of the Merced below. I found the use trail traversing left
around the 
west side of Liberty Cap and we climbed up and down and getting
off track a few times before making our way down to the John Muir Trail.
Back among 
other hikers on this popular trail, we took another hour to
descend to Happy Isle along the 
Mist Trail. Along the way we marveled at
the force of the spring flow over 
Vernal Fall and took pictures of the
rainbows and other features
pretty much to the same extent as any of the hundreds of other tourists that joined
us on the trail. 5p seemed a bit early to be returning, but I suppose it's better
than an epic. We showered, bought supplies, ate pizza and drank beers over the
next four hours, taking advantage of all the civilization that has been brought
to bear on Yosemite Valley in the form of Curry Village. On the one hand it seems
"dirty" that so much comfort has been brought to this famous symbol of the
American Wilderness experience, but on the other hand it was quite a treat to
reward ourselves with. In this case, we decided to take full advantage of it
rather than dwell on the demerits. We would leave that to others to debate
- another beer please!
Continued...