Continued...
Daylight Savings Time came during the night, but we made no adjustment to our schedule to account for it.
On one hand we could have fret that we lost an hour of sleep during the night and mutteringly wondered
why it was so dark out in the morning. But instead we just got up at 5a instead of 4a so that it would
appear nearly the same as it had the two previous days. Our plan as we drove out of South Lake Tahoe was
to bag Thunder Mtn (Amador County highpoint) and Thimble Peak (a class 4 summit block), a relatively mild
outing. I had tried to talk Matthew into a more ambitious outing (and if you noted the title of this
trip report you'll see I eventually succeeded) the night before, but we couldn't come to a satisfactory
arrangement whereby we'd hike the entire ridge in opposite directions. The main sticking point seemed to
be the summit block of Thimble - Matthew was very interested in climbing it, but was afraid if he was solo
he would back down from it - a valid point. So how could we both hike the same direction and still do the
whole ridge? I had a plan, but figured I'd wait to see how the day progressed before suggesting it.
We arrived at Kirkwood around 6:15a, and some 15 minutes or so later we were off and climbing - along a
.
This was the same route I'd used three weeks earlier to reach Martin Point (which I had
mistaken for Thunder Mtn). After five or ten minutes it occurred to Matthew that he'd forgotten his gloves,
so we paused. Not wanting to go back to retrieve them, he asked me how long the day would take. About four
hours, I surmised (It took us four and half just to reach Thimble Peak, so even if we'd kept to the
original plan my estimate was well more than an hour off). Wisely, Matthew went back to retrieve them.
The soon after his return, and we headed up through the trees on the right side of the
ski area. It wasn't long before we switched to crampons for the steeper portions of the slope. The snow
was well-consolidated, somewhat soft , harder higher up where it was
. Again we had snowshoes with us,
but this time we would manage without them the entire day. The slope heading up to Martin Point was steep
enough that I somewhat wished I had an axe with me for additional safety - A slip would have sent either
of us down several hundred feet into the trees with a questionable chance of arresting ourselves before
impending injury. Fortunately, no falls.
Even with the reset to retrieve the gloves, it took us only about an hour to reach Martin Point, almost
1500ft above the parking lot. We signed into the register and almost immediately I left to go over and
check out the interesting a short distance away on the pretense that it
might be higher,
though it seemed unlikely. It was a short class 3 scramble from the side facing us, and once on top it
was clear that all the other sides were considerably harder. It looked to be about the same height from
atop, and that was enough to into climbing it as well after I'd come back down.
Our next goal was , about a mile and a half distance, so we set off in that direction.
We bypassed a rocky outcropping on over some firm snow before landing on the
sunny ridgetop and finding a very for the next half mile or so.
let us know we were at the ski area boundary,
apparently they want to make sure to indemnify themselves to skiers who may chose to ski in unpatrolled
parts (the bowl immediately west of the ridge in this case). We passed an interesting feature known as
on the west side - it appeared to have no easy scramble route on any side.
The bypass was not without some class 3 itself, which was far better than a
steep snow traverse that we thought we might have to make when viewed from a distance.
Thunder Mtn has separated by about a quarter mile. The nearer northeast one is shown
on the
USGS maps as being 2 feet higher than the named southwest summit, but it is impossible without a level to
tell which is higher. To be sure, we first climbed the northeast one (it has an abrupt drop on its southwest
side along the ridgeline), then backed off and headed over to the .
This took some time as
we walked around a number of obstacles, clambering over rocky features in an effort to avoid the steeper
snowy slopes just below on the southeast side. It was 9:15a when we reached the
where we found
a large tackle box that served to hold the several summit registers - this is a popular peak. We could
see south to (where we'd been two days earlier), northwest to
, north to the (where we were the previous day),
northeast to and the Mokelumne Wilderness. It
was a fine county highpoint, much better than some of the ones we'd visited earlier in the year. We made
a small diversion to visit a to Paul M. Ruff, a skier who died in the area
attempting to make a record 200ft jump in 1993. It was even more sobering to read
his story on the Internet later while writing this report.
A pair of old leather boots (presumeably his?) lay at the foot of the cross.
After getting our requisite pictures, we headed back to the .
Ahead of Matthew a short ways, I
stopped for a class 3-4 diversion on an interesting .
I went up what I would call a class
4 chimney on the right side, leaving my pack on the rocks below. After reaching the top I traversed
across and found an easier class 3 route back down on the left, retrieved my pack, then rejoined Matthew
who had patiently waited for me to finish the exercise. Heading east along the main ridge, we came upon
the top of and the groomed cat tracks that graced the top.
It made for easier travel,
even if we had to share it with others, some of whom looked at us a bit oddly. Further east along the
ridge, just past the chairlift we were greeted by a Experts Only! sign.
It was
pretty much a class 1 walk the way we were taking it though. Most of the slopes heading down past the
sign looked to be of the advanced category, but a few narrow, would definitely
qualify as expert. We continued along the ridge, favoring the easier slopes on the south side, much of
which we found free of snow. We passed below the top of Chair 10 (Wagon Wheel) on the south side, and then
climbed up to the top of the ridge again a short distance before Thimble Peak.
Thimble Peak looked fairly innocuous from the west side that ,
but once atop the visible false summit, one could glare across a gaping chasm at the higher
. A thin, rocky ridge joins
it to the main ridge, and it was obvious that this was the advertised class 4 route up the summit block.
Before Matthew had time to get a view of it, I had crossed the twenty feet to the start and scrambled up.
The rock was very solid with really good holds, but the exposure was a bit draining. Better not to think
about it too much I figured. When Matthew popped his head into view I had been at the summit five or ten
minutes, and greeted him with a friendly wave. Matthew looked at the intervening space but didn't wave back.
"How was it?" he asked. "Not bad, really," was my attempt at an optimistic reply. With a bit of coaching and
a great deal of self-determination, the short 15-foot section to the top.
Success! At the summit we found a glass jar encased in a rusty tin can with something resembling epoxy,
inside a small not two-thirds full dating back to 1964 - a real find.
Ours was the first entry in
over two years. Pete Yamagata's name was the only one I recognized in the register. Not being an SPS peak,
it is ignored by the likes of Doug Mantle and RJ Secor, though we both agreed it was a true hidden gem
of the Sierra.
It was 11a now, having taken 4 1/2 hours to reach the peak (more than we thought the round trip would take).
We discussed where to go next. I was up for continuing along the ridge. Matthew had pointed out the night
before that we could continue along the ridge to Melissa Coray Peak, then drop down to Emigrant Valley to
the north and back over a low saddle in the vicinity of Chairs 2 & 3. I thought that would involve a good
deal of elevation gain, but from his TOPO! software last night and now the view before us, it didn't look
so bad. So with little fanfare, we decided to continue along the ridge (the trap was nearly set...). First
we had to the summit block, and the moves took a tad more nerve
than it did climbing up, but with only not found in Freedom of the Hills,
we managed to from that loftly perch.
Back on the snow, we headed down the North Face of Thimble Peak, a fairly steep slope with excellent runout
for a thousand feet. The snow was softer here and there was almost no way we could have an uncontrolled
slide, but Matthew remained cautious until I took a swift glissade down for several hundred feet. A group
of skiers below watched the spectacle, probably wondering where we'd managed to lose our skis. We landed on
a cat track and traverse over to the top of Chair 4 (Sunrise), continuing east along the ridge. The next
peak was Covered Wagon Peak, though really it was just with a highpoint somewhere in
the middle. Here we started playing the game of staying on the ridge as faithfully as possible, primarily to
enjoy some class 3 rock and snow we found there. It made for a really fine quarter mile traverse, some of
the more enjoyable scrambling we found all day. The peak can easily be bypassed on the south side, but I
was glad we found the more challenging scramble. At the far east end of the peak we had some more
,
but this was done with fine style and grace (unlike our descent of Thimble Peak).
Next up was a short walk to the higher, but far tamer Melissa Coray Peak. At the saddle between it and
Covered Wagon, we came across a sign indicating the crossing of a California historical trail. Apparently
this spot, at 9,400ft, was the highest point in the Sierra to which a covered wagon was taken. Quite
impressive, but in looking at the surrounding terrain, neither of us could figure out why anyone would
have taken a wagon up here. Not on the Sierra Crest, and a thousand feet higher than Carson Pass, it
seemed only someone who was lost could have managed such a feat. This saddle also marked the boundary
between the ski area and the Mokelume Wilderness. We continued up the West Slopes of
Melissa Coray, one of the most rounded peaks one can find in the Sierra - there was really nothing
resembling a ridge leading to the summit on any side (later we noticed there are some steep slopes that
get skied found on the north side). is broad and just discernably rounded,
at the very center a
memorial marker to Melissa Coray, an early pioneer who crossed with some of the first wagons over Carson
Pass. As a mormon her writings have been carefully preserved and her memory immortalized by the Church
with this fine plaque and the naming of the peak on which it was placed. To the side a short distance was
a radio tower (the Wilderness boundary follows the ridge from the saddle up to the peak to allow the tower
it would seem). Not satisfied with the nearly flat summit of Melissa Coray Peak, I climbed the 30 feet or
so to the top of the tower, some of the more exposed climbing I would do all day - definitely satisfying.
Matthew was content to let me do this one without him, even though I chided that the top of the tower was
well above the summit marker. The memory in my digital camera was nearing its capacity, and with no clear
indication how many pictures I might have remaining, I began to defer to Matthew to get
and other shots.
It was now 12:45p, and we figured we had about plenty of daylight left - about 7 hours or so. Round Top
had seemed quite distance when we started the day, but it was looming nearer and higher the further east
we travelled along the ridge. Thinking the time was ripe, I suggested to Matthew that instead of heading
back through Emigrant Valley, it would be shorter to continue heading along the ridge to Carson Pass.
Once at the pass, we ought to be able to thumb a ride from passing motorists back to Kirkwood. Matthew
was of the same mind it turned out, and it seems I had spent far too much energy plotting the traverse
than was necessary. So with almost no further discussion, we continued on.
The next point on the ridge is Peak 9795ft just northwest of Melissa Coray. It is higher than both
Covered Wagon and Melissa Coray, yet goes unnamed. In reading up about the naming of Melissa Coray Peak,
there was mention of BGN stipulations that the peak cannot be in a Wilderness area (which Peak 9795ft
falls in completely). It was a short walk and we marvelled at the many skiable chutes in the small,
north-facing cirque formed by it and Melissa Coray. There were a number of tracks around where we walked
and several of the chutes had been recently skied. It seems the whole ridge between Kirkwood and Round
Top is a regular haunt of the backcountry ski crowd. We followed the ridge down the northeast side of
the peak to a saddle and up to another small bump just west of Fourth of July Peak. Voices on the north
side got my attention and upon looking over that way we saw 4 skiers skinning their way up to the ridge.
Though the whole ridge was busy with tracks, these were the only skiers we saw out today between
the ski area and Carson Pass.
Fourth of July Peak was named feature number six for the day, and we arrived on the rounded summit just
past 1:30p. The peak itself is nothing to write home about, pretty much class 1 or 2 from any angle. But
it does provide a of the monarch on the ridge - Round Top, and an equally impressive
view of
The Sisters, our next stop. The weather was a bit more threatening now as the cloud layer began to lower
and the higher peaks were obscured by passing clouds from time to time. It seemed prudent to get up and
down Round Top before any threatened thunderstorms were to develop. The next section seemed like it would
be harder than it turned out to be. After zipping down to the saddle where it crosses the trail, we had
a long climb of 600ft back up to the rocky ridge. The 600 feet were a talus slog, but after that it became
more fun. We still had another 400ft or so to the top of The Sisters, but now we had some class 3 that
provided some entertainment, even as we were climbing into the clouds. Staying faithfully on
the entire way to the top of The Sisters was great fun, some knife-edge, some exposure, and generally
much better rock than the loose class 2 stuff found just off the ridge on the south side (the north
side was a near vertical cliff for much of this). I arrived at the lower peak of The Sisters thinking I
had was at the higher one (the lower had two closely spaced summits that fooled me) - it took me a moment to
realize I wasn't looking at Round Top to the east so I must not be atop The Sisters. We reached the
just after 3p.
We could see the West Face of Round Top, but the clouds were swirling all about. A
temporary hole of blue sky gave Matthew the delusion that it might be clearing (it wasn't).
Heading off to Round Top, we took differing routes up the West Face. We tried to stay on solid rock where
we could, but there is just too much loose rock on the west and south sides to avoid all of it. Just short
of the higher east summit, I came upon one of the notches leading down to the Crescent Moon Couloir. I
walked out onto the a short distance
so I could get my bearings and check out the eastern
arm of the couloir. The snow looked pretty decent in it, and I was wishing I'd brought an axe. It was
just before 4p when I reached the top, and maybe ten minutes later I heard Matthew's voice as he made his
way to join me. We perused the summit register and I noted Doug Mantle's entry from Nov 2, 2002 where he
commented that he had climbed Freel in the morning. Matthew remarked that he had met Doug on the summit
of Round Top that very day as Doug was working on his quest to climb as many SPS peaks in a single year
as possible
(100+ we believe he finished with). Matthew was now on a similar quest, but he has a long way to go to
reach 100 - I think Round Top made something like #14 for the year. I'd told my wife to expect me home
around 8p that night, but with our extra-curricular activity we were going to be many hours later than
that. I tried to use the cellphone to call her from Round Top's summit, got good signal indicators, but
the call would not go through - try again later. Clouds all about us, we took a hard
look at the East Ridge, our preferred descent route. It had two attractions - neither of us had used that
route before, and it would make the more elegant route to continue our traverse of the ridgeline. But as
the day was growing later now, it looked like it might take us several hours to cover the long East Ridge.
Neither of us wanted to go back the West Ridge, a decidedly unappetizing route to us now. I hit upon the
idea of the Crescent Moon Couloir. I'd been up the western arm but not the eastern one, so it would be fun
to explore this other aspect of it. Matthew had wanted to try the couloir as well so he took to the idea
immediately.
Off we went back to the notch that I'd checked out earlier. We talked briefly about not having
axes, but I countered that the snow conditions appeared quite favorable. I offered to go down first and
kick steps to which Matthew happily agreed. My crampons weren't the best - this lightweight pair has smaller
teeth, the front pair pointing down instead of forward as most standard crampons. They're really better off
for lower angled snow slopes, but they would have to do. Matthew offered to switch with me but I declined,
fearing mine would unnerve him even if he was following me.
The were the easiest - soft snow
with an angle that actually inclined one into the rock on the side rather than down the steep face
of the couloir. I kicked steps quite easily down this and waited for Matthew. I had a heavy pair of mittens
I wore to keep my hands off the ice. Matthew had but a lightweight pair of gloves that would have been
wet in short order. When I realized this, I told him to wait while I climbed back out of the couloir, then
dug out a pair of overmittens I had in my pack. These would prove quite valuable as we were to be a long
time coming down the couloir. I retraced my steps and Matthew followed easily enough. The next section
looked down the barrel of the couloir and was quite steep and more than a bit discomforting. I told
Matthew my plan was to head down about 15 feet then I'd start angling to my left at which time he could
start down. This would keep me out of his fall line should he slip during the descent.
After the easy upper section, the next several hundred feet were far more difficult. At first I had lots
of strength and energy to kick excellent steps half the length of my foot into the snow. But the snow
grew harder as I descended and I soon tired from the tremendous effort. My toes were none too
appreciative either, and I could feel them throbbing with each blow I subjected them too. When I started to
angle off to the left I found this harder in practice than I had expected. While descending straight down
I could use the foot holes for hand placements as well as I moved past them and kicked lower steps. But now
as I tried to angle, my left arm had nothing to hold on to, I couldn't punch a hold with my hand, and I
felt insecure. To compensate, I lifted my left foot up and kicked an extra hole to the side with each
regular step I made. This gave my left hand some purchase but put double duty on my left leg which soon
tired. I found I couldn't keep angling so I switched back to heading straight down after about 15 steps
or so. Matthew kept a good
distance above me, about 20 feet or so, steadily descending at the same rate I could kick steps ahead of
him. Within a few minutes of course he was directly and we were both
descending the same line.
Being on the bottom of this arrangement made me uneasy, but it seemed I couldn't have him hold off to the
side or just wait until I was safely down.
Matthew had so far descended about 50 feet over the steeper slope without
seeming too unnerved, so that helped me some with my own anxiety. The most difficult part took a half hour
descend, but it felt like twice that. I was surprised that my legs held up as well as they did after we'd
already been out for so many hours, climbing over 5,000 feet. As I neared the "Y" junction in the couloir,
the snow grew a bit softer. It was enough to let me change technique from kicking steps into the slope to
using my weight to step down heavily on the slope and create the next foothold without a kick. This made
all the difference in the amount of effort it took, and I now made rapid progress down to the bottom of
the couloir. My toes were very thankful as well. I watched and waited for the next fifteen minutes as
Matthew continued the descent in fine style. Never complaining, never getting unnerved, it was the most
difficult snow slope I'd seen him on and he performed flawlessly.
While I was I tried
the cellphone again and to my surprise was able to get through while perched on a snow platform I'd stamped
at the base of the couloir. Unfortunately I only got to speak less than a minute before the call was
interupted, and I'd only been able to communicate that we wouldn't be home until midnight without any
explanation. Hmmm - that might have given her more reason to worry than if I hadn't called in the first
place.
When Matthew reached my location I asked if he still wanted to hit peak #9 - Elephants Back. Like myself
he was still interested, so I offered a modification to our plan. I'd go ahead (tagging Elephants Back
of course) to Carson Pass and thumb a ride back to Kirkwood. Then I could bring the car back up to Carson
Pass while he was finishing up the hike. That seemed pretty agreeable to Matthew (we were off the
dangerous part of the mountain now), so I packed up and headed off. I went down in great leaps and bounds
800ft to Winnemucca Lake in less than 10 minutes - it was great fun, really. The less-than-fun part came
next as I slogged my way up the southwest side of Elephants Back, the last 500ft of the day's climbing. I
reached the non-obvious highpoint on the far north side of the ridge at 6p, the wind now blowing steadily.
I moved a short ways down the east side to get out of the wind and try the cellphone again. This time I
got a good connection and was able to convey the reason for our delay adequately. We talked for about two
minutes, then I started down. The snow was much sloppier now and it would probably have helped some to
switch to the snowshoes, but it became a test to see if I could go the whole day without them. I postholed
a few times up to my thighs, but for the most part faired well in just my boots. Continuing
,
I passed Frog Lake on its eastern shore, the PCT somewhere nearby still buried under the snow. I
lost my drive to stay faithfully on the ridge when I saw a few more uphill bumps, so I bailed off to the
east side when I was still a quarter mile from the pass. I found my way through the forest to
the road, and walked the short uphill to the pass shortly after 6:30p - a fine 12hr outing.
I started thumbing almost immediately, but mostly the drivers averted their gaze as they zipped past me.
There weren't as many cars as I'd hoped - we'd thought that there'd be a good many returnees from the
Tahoe area on a Sunday evening. Of course it didn't occur to us that the majority would probably take US50
instead. I started wondering how many miles it was back to Kirkwood should we have to hoof it. The best
strategy in that case seemed to be to wait for Matthew, drop my pack, and start jogging back (I thought it
might be up to 12 miles, but when we measured it later it was less than 7, so it wouldn't have been too
bad). But before I could spend much time dwelling on the alternatives, after about 15 minutes the ninth
car to come by stopped to offer a ride. He was a Native American in pickup truck with a camper shell,
returning from Carson City to his home in Antioch. He was happy to give me a lift, offering that I looked
pretty respectable standing there roadside. He left me off at the turnoff to Kirkwood so I had to walk the
last mile back to the car, but still better than doing so the whole distance. I was able to drive back up
to Carson Pass,
change my clothes and was several pages into my book when Matthew strolled up - good timing.
It was tough driving back to the Bay Area at that late hour (it was after 8p when we started back) when
all we wanted to do was sleep, but we managed to do so without incident. Another fine weekend in the
Sierra concluded...
groomed ski run
sun rose
among the trees
more exposed
NW summit
goad Matthew
Thunder Mtn
the southwest side
nice trail
Warning signs
The Glove
rock scrambling
southwest one
named summit
Mokelumne Peak
Desolation Wilderness
Carson Range
Round Top
nearby memorial
main ridge
rock formation
Chair 6 (Cornice)
Skull & Crossbones
steep chutes
we approached from
true summit
Matthew followed
Sierra Club Register
get back off
reversing
one awkward move
extract ourselves
a long ridge
tricky downclimbing
The top
the views
great view
the ridge
higher summit
North Face
upper 30 feet
above me
waiting for Matthew
along the ridge