by Christian Mason

This last trip out west made it harder than ever to come back. I didn't get what I wanted, but I did get something very fulfilling.

Whitney

I'll spare you the technical details, but Whitney got about two feet of snow a few days before we arrived. The descent gully was iced up and we hadn't come prepared for full on winter climbing. Mikey Brown and I thought maybe we could still make a go at it, and either rappel the route, or rappel around the iced section. We ran a recon up to the base of the route at 12,500 feet. I'd just flown into LA and drive to low camp (8K) yesterday. I popped an extra diamox and prepared to suffer.

Our plan was to go out and scout things out, then return to 8K, get our partners and get up at 12am the next day, do the approach again, climb and descend all in one day. It would hurt...so much that I wasn't sure I could do it..but I also knew that I would do it when I had no other choice. That's what I had come looking for - to suffer, to "bite off more than I can chew, so I get more than I need, or want" and strip away the unessential and leave me facing things bare. Rainier left me alternating between shaking sobs and elation [0] for days.. but a peace settled over me from it, that's what I came to find.

The approach was hard...and the mountain breathtaking. I promise myself I'll return and climb it by a hard technical line sometime. I had a pounding headache from going from sea level to twelve and a half thousand in two days that evening. We found out that the forecast called for thunderstorms tomorrow afternoon, which would mean snow, hail and lightening on the mountain. Not the time to go up, the poor conditions of the route aside. We pulled the plug, and went sport climbing at Owens River Gorge the next day. Then drove to Yosemite Valley.

Christine

Our first day at Yosemite was spent resting from a poor nights sleep and getting settled into camp 4, the climber’s camp. We put up our tent and bought some beer and a bottle of Seagrams. In the parking lot we stumbled onto Christine. She was a backpacker who had just done a four day solo trip across the high country in Yosemite. Before that she'd wandered India. She's 41 and had been traveling and taking in life for decades. She's a climber in spirit, even if she doesn't know it yet. She moved her tent over to her site and spent the next few days with us.

Tuesday she agreed to come up Royal Arches with us. She'd never been on rock before and just rented shoes and took the plunge. Renting gear and getting our crew together took long... too long. We woke up at 6am for an early start, but didn't actually get on the route until 12 or 1pm. 17 pitches. We split into teams of two and three and Mikey and I lead every pitch. Ryan and I soloed or simulclimbed a good bit of it. Fantastic climb...and we hauled ass up it. We finished about six and a half hours later. Having belayed Christine up every pitch. She was stellar, no falls, didn't get really sketched out at any point. We'd made good time.. but not good enough.

Mikey couldn't find the descent gully in the dark, and wandered around above the death slabs until midnight trying to find the trail down. Christine held it together until then... far longer than I expected any non-climber too. Most get scared 50 feet up. She's made it more than a thousand, and was now facing a very cold night with us.

We sat on the ropes... no mylar bags this time. It went down to the forties; I was colder than I was on rainier, since I was in cotton pants and a fleece. I wrapped a fleece around my head in a largely futile attempt to keep warm. The five of us huddled together for warmth. I'd sleep for an hour or so, than the shivering would wake me. Near the end of the night Christine sat on my legs for a while. Tough call, it stopped the shivering, but it also pressed my knees into the rock, I decided the pain was better than the cold for a while. There wasn't the fear there was on Rainier [0] though; I knew we'd be fine. Just a calm acceptance of things... suffering until it was light enough to find the way down. I wouldn’t have imagined facing this with so little stress a few years ago.

We walked back to the valley around 9am...we waged war on a buffet and slept out in the grass in the sun. Later I took the bus to town and bought a beer, and then wandered around the valley aimlessly. Thinking about how strange this all was.

The Way Home

The rest of the trip was uneventful. Christine left for San Jose the next night, we spent some time climbing in the valley, growing facial hair and smelling bad. We stopped by Great Sequioa Forest then Don and Ryan dropped me off at LAX Friday, and I lucked into a rare interesting "single serving friend" on the way home. This one was a traveler as well.. and political activist, punk rocker and BMX biker. Another wanderer....we talked for an hour, slept on the plane, and got breakfast in the morning.

I didn't get what I came to find this time. I suffered, but I didn't face my mortality that way I did on rainier. I thought that this trip would satisfy the addiction for a while. Rainier left my broken down and not wanted to get anywhere near a mountain for awhile. This left my hungry for more. I got to see the sunrise over the valley though and hear the cachony of coyotes in the morning, sounding like some mix of lost dogs and angry children. I saw a solo climber moving unroped and confidently across a line I'd just lead with shaking legs, when he spoke I could recognize the peace in him that I've found at times.

I meet some people I connected with almost immediately, while our lives seem to be pretty far apart and I sincerely hope our paths cross again. Good luck in all that you do.