Sierra Solo pt. 2: Tenaya-Matthes-Cathedral Linkup

The morning after climbing Conness I took my time... eating, napping, eating, walking around, drinking water, drinking more water, using the out house, staring at the mountains. Conness already felt like an easy climb, amazing but fairly boring too, and I was ready for something more. I drove into the park around noon and headed to the Tuolumne Visitor Center. I badgered a poor volunteer with questions, made a couple phone calls, then headed to Lembert Dome. I couldn't resist and scrambled up the NW Corner route before getting promptly lost, sliding down some moss covered slab, and eventually walking the un-enjoyable road back to the car where I traded running shoes for Chacos and a good book and walked over to the river for a couple hours.

That night I dirt-bagged in the back of my car after a big dinner of potatoes and chilli. In the morning I drove to Tenaya Lake and B-lined from the car to the base of Tenaya Peak, a big buttress behind the lake. An intermittent climber's trail gave way to wet slabs, then dry slabs, then easy climbing. I romped up the buttress making terrible time. The problem with climbing in the Sierra is that every time you glance over your shoulder you waste about ten minutes staring and drooling out of your slack jaw. At least I was enjoying myself. About 1:45 after leaving the car I had climbed some 5.6 or 5.7ish lichen covered crack up the final headwall and scrambled over to the summit.

Tenaya Lake from low on the NW Buttress

Looking up the route from where the real climbing starts. "Real climbing" being a relative term on this route.

Looking to the NE at Tuolumne Meadows and the mountains beyond. Sawtooth Ridge is just left of the prominent pass on the horizon.

Looking down on Tenaya Lake from a snowy ledge... it's always nice to get above something like this.

Looking down at the Valley past Half Dome and Mt. Watkins with Cloud's Rest just out of view on the left.

Looking back down the NW Buttress onto Tenaya Lake from the summit.

Another shot of Tuolumne, this time from the summit. You can see Mt. Conness (right most peak on the horizon).

In the distance ahead I could see the dark outline of the Matthes Crest and off to my left the tip of Cathedral Peak nosed over a ridge. A fun little Mountain Project route page under Tenaya Peak had suggested that you use the NW Buttress of Tenaya Peak (which I had just climbed) to access the famous Matthes Crest Traverse (South to North) and then tag the classic SE Buttress on Cathedral Peak during the stroll back to the car. I had never climbed or even been to this area before. I had done some research before hand, however, and decided it was doable. Now I was on the ground and in position, I just had to go and see what the day had in store. That, and try not to waste all the daylight taking pictures.

The imposing fin that is the Matthes Crest. The traverse goes from right to left (S-N) and follows the skyline practically the whole way.

Cathedral Peak from the walk to Matthes. The SE Buttress follows the right hand skyline.

I walk/jogged across the basin behind Tenaya, eating and drinking while I moved. Then I dropped down into the deeper valley west of the Matthes Crest. I tried to keep my breathing in check, moving fast without blowing my load early. From the valley I side-hilled and scrambled over to the base of Matthes. An hour after leaving the summit of Tenaya I was looking up at the first couple pitches. I ate some trail mix and and started up the golden, knob-covered fins.

Golden knob climbing craziness on the first two pitches of Matthes Crest.

The climbing was easy with some minor route finding. The only problem was the grit. Little pieces of decomposed granite sand made a slick coating on some of the knobs and I meticulously brushed them off before using each one. Traversing out left to avoid a steeper section I placed my left foot on a knob. I felt the grit grind beneath my rubber. I started to grind to the side, trying to get the grit off, but the sensation continued. I changed the angle of my shoe and suddenly the knob rolled under my foot. I lifted it away and listened to the former knob bounce down the face. What happened to high quality Sierra granite? Suddenly I felt like I was climbing at Smith Rock... choss and chicken heads! I traverse back right looking for solid knobs, if I could find good rock and get up on the ridge top I would be fine. I saw a solid knob, it looked solid anyway. I reached out to grab it with my right hand... pop! That knob bounced down the face too. "What the fuck?!" I thought. Here I was in Yosemite National Park, on one of the most classic, most famous routes. Every hand and every foot was on these beautiful granite nubbins and they were just rolling out of their sockets like it was free gumball day at Chuck-e-Cheese! I want a refund! This play-place is not safe! Then I remembered, "Oh yeah, this is climbing. You could die. You knew that when you came up here and you came anyway. This is your choice, deal with it." It let my anger trickle out, just enough, focusing my attention. I tested the next knob. It held. I slowly oozed my weight onto it. One knob at a time, then a crack between fins. A shitty hand jam, then the edge of a fin, then a leveling. The ridge crest. My body let out a little shiver. I twisted my neck like a turtle trying to hide in a shell I didn't have.

The view from (relatively) level ground.

I stood there for a few minutes, numbly snapping pictures. "Why not? I'm here right. Might as well take a few photos." I thought about the climbing. Easy, yes. Fun? Not really. Why was I here? I had forgotten. I looked forward along the ridge. It was easy climbing. I thought about descent; there was probably more rap tat further down the ridge, so I continued. Then the climbing was easy, suddenly fun and not even exposed as I walked between large fins. The rock was obviously improving. I thought there must be a reason this route is so highly regarded so I decided to continue as long as I felt like it. Soon after, easy down climbing led to a ledge traverse. On the balls of my feet I scooted along with my arms over my head and a few hundred feet of air beneath me. My stomach clenched but I looked down anyway, comfortable but uncomfortable. The broken knobs weren't forgotten but neither was my enjoyment.

Looking along the ridge at easy ledge scrambling.

I continued along the ridge and nothing was as hard as it looked. It was like the rock version of Casaval Ridge on Shasta, just real climbing instead. I was finding the easy gaps through intimidating rocks in a fun exploration that seemed like it was part of a planned maze, each new space revealing itself to me as I moved. I passed over two other guys rapping off before the South Summit. They said it looked too sketchy, but I was just hitting my stride and their lack of confidence buoyed me up. I knew exactly what I could and couldn't do. Minutes later I stood on the South Summit.

The next tower looks hard but when you get on it, it's easy, not to mention fun.

Looking at the North Summit from the South Summit... at least there are lots of options.

The direct down climb to the notch below the North Summit is called 5.7. I guess I do a lot of down climbing practice but it felt easy to me. I saw it and knew it would go. From the notch I mantled onto a sandy ledge. I looked around before finding the start of the left-leaning diagonal crack (it was behind me), that is the "crux" of the route. I looked at the crack for a minute before finally breaking out my rock shoes for the first time that day. The feet are not good and the moves are strenuous for 5.7 but luckily this part is short and the best quality rock on the route. A mere ten feet later I pulled onto a ledge and scrambled the easy remainder to the North Summit.

Looking back along the Matthes Crest from the North Summit.

I gave a whoop and and took some photos before heading over to look at the down climb. This next section was rated 5.8 but after the last down climb off the South Summit I felt it might be doable. I went down to a rusty piton/bolt stance and considered using it but instead continued. I laybacked off a hand jam (strenuous), and dropped down to a notch. One more committing step-across and that was it, I was done. I started up the next tower but suddenly felt unmotivated and tired of the ridge. I went back to the notch and looked down the west face. I saw some rap tat and easy slabs so I headed down there. I got to the tat and found it to be sun bleached on a hollow flake. I looked down again and made a poor decision... to down climb the rest of the slab. It took me 45 minutes to slowly move down 200 feet of rock. The flakes were thin, hollow, and some moved. The slab was grit covered and decomposing. It reminded me of rolling nubbins. I got to the bottom feeling less-than-stoked about the "classic" Matthes Crest. It was good, bad and everything in between.

Looking back up at the chossy down climb section.

Looking back south at Matthes Crest before I drop down to Budd Lake.

I knew I needed water and a look at the topo map showed the fastest way to Budd Lake was around the right side of Echo Ridge. Unfortunately, not being familiar with the area bit me in the butt and some sketchy glisading followed by wet-slab down climbing got me to Budd Lake later than anticipated. Having seen the north side of Echo Ridge now I would instead go over the high saddle between Echo Peaks and Peak 11,168 (USGS topo).

Looking back up at the convoluted terrain I had to come down to reach Budd Lake.

Budd Lake and Cathedral Peak... time for a drink.

At Budd Lake I looked up at Cathedral's SE Buttress, now imposing and dark in afternoon shade. I considered just heading back to the car but then ran into some National Park Service scientists on the far side of the lake fixing a fishing net. A girl in the group asked if I'd just done Matthes. We got talking and she told me she had already done Cathedral and reassured me that the rock was excellent and the climbing phenomenal. I headed over to at least take a look. Two parties were just retrieving their packs at the base and one of their number was kind enough to show me a topo. I waited til they left, ate a sandwich and put on my rock shoes. It was 5pm. I started climbing, traversing around to find the ideal route up the slab. By the time I passed the belay ledge at the top of pitch two I was absorbed. This was by far the most fun and interesting climbing of the day. I even followed the NPS lady's recommendation and climbed in the chimney despite having a pack on. I topped out on the summit less than an hour later, took some photos, down climbed, scrambled and B-lined for Cathedral Lakes.

Looking up at the SE Buttress of Cathedral Peak.

Relaxing on the ledge right after the chimney pitch. My socks portray a stick figure farting with the words "powered by burritos." Thanks for those TJ, they are pretty awesome!

Looking back on Budd Lake from the summit of Cathedral Peak. The peak's shadow is visible in the lower left.

Looking SW over Eichorn Pinnacle and the Catherdal Lakes from the summit of Cathedral Peak. My car is in the valley yonder and I need to get hiking.

I was elated and so pleased that I had topped my day with this perfect climb. I walk-jogged to the right of Cathedral Lakes in the setting sun and headed down smooth slabs next to cascades of water. I ran through the twilight forest singing Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer and Frosty the Snowman at the top of my lungs to scare away any bears. I hopped the creek and was back at my car at 8:01pm, having left at 9:06am. Almost 11 hours on the go and I even had time to take some pictures! It felt like Christmas, only better.

Looking back up at Tenaya Peak's NW Buttress, my first climb of the day, now illuminated by the setting sun as I run towards the car.

Back at the car and a little out of it. I guess I forgot to smile despite a sense of deep satisfaction.

Acker Rock Linkup

My friend Josh called me in early September with the idea of doing a big linkup on Acker Rock. Acker is an andesite crag in the southern Oregon Cascades, and the two longest routes on it are the Peregrine Traverse (10 pitch 5.7) and Where Eagles Dare (8 pitch 5.9). Josh had done the Peregrine before but not Eagles and he wanted to go back and link both routes in a day. His psych was infectious and I agreed to go but unfortunately the super rainy weather kept us from making it out there until October.

Upper pitches of the Peregrine Traverse follow the sky line. Taken from a semi-hanging belay on Where Eagles Dare.

Where Eagles Dare follows a mostly direct line up the shaded face to the pinnacle at the top. Taken from a notch on the Peregrine Traverse.

We finally drove to Acker on a Friday night and camped just below the locked gate... government shutdowns... I'll try not to get political here. After waking up in good time Josh led us to the climbers trail and we followed the trail through downed trees to the Sun Bowl at the start of the Peregrine. We had both worried about cold weather and wet rock but the good forecast came through and we both regretted wearing long pants and not having more water.

Fog in the South Umpqua River Valley from the top of pitch 1 on the Peregrine. My shadow is on the rock face in the lower right.

After soloing the first "pitch" (easy 4th), Josh linked the next two pitches. As I followed I realized just how great of an idea this trip was: easy slab climbing on solid rock with big exposure, beautiful views, jugs and pockets everywhere, plus it's well bolted where it needs to be. If you like moderate adventurous climbing this route is tons of fun. I led the next pitch, a short but fun slab dihedral, and the crux. A run out traverse pitch on easy terrain brought us to a notch. One more up pitch would have brought us to the ridge crest but I was lured off route by some rusty anchors and ended in some dirty choss. Josh brought us back to the crest and then we cruised (a little simuling) on easy terrain to the "summit." From here an easy down climb takes you to a dirt ledge down in the forest; you wouldn't want to fall off the ledge but there are bolts at the ledge so you can clip in. The final pitch is a dirty chimney (the only place where we placed gear as it's not bolted). This takes you to a summit which appears to be higher than the last peak but doesn't have the summit register. From here an awkward rap takes you to a ledge with a big tree and a trail takes you to the fire lookout and the trail down. It took us around two and a half hours, and while most of the climbing is easy and on solid rock, the exposure is substantial and really makes the climb.

Josh leading pitches 2 and 3 on the Peregrine.

Josh at the anchors of the notch traverse pitch on the Peregrine (pitch 5). Rope is visible hanging across the notch.

Josh following easy terrain to the "summit" of the Peregrine Traverse.

We ate some food and drank some water in the shade near the lookout, then stashed some gear in my pack and walked over to the rap anchors for Where Eagles Dare. Eagles starts at the bottom of the Southwest face in a hanging grassy bowl. The best way to get to it is to rappel the face down an adjacent line following a water channel (you don't rap the actual route as it ends on a separate spire). Due to the recent heavy rains this was really dirty, although thankfully dry. Dirt and moss chunks peppered us from above and soiled our rope. Six rappels later, as we descended the final dirty slabs, we were wondering what we had gotten ourselves into.

Josh on the last rappel into Eagles. This was one of two free-hanging rappels. Eagles climbs the face further to the left.

We found the bolts on the first pitch of Eagles and were bummed to see that instead of ascending clean slab further left we would start on more dirty and chossy rock. Josh declared that we would just have to "turn our frowns upside down." We got to it and he linked the first two pitches to an anchor near some small trees. I took over the lead and we started to find out why this route gets rave reviews. I climbed a highly featured arete on solid rock with big exposure. The moves were balancey and technical, solid 5.9 climbing that justified the first two pitches. Josh then lead a short traverse and I started up vertical face holds to a small dihedral with some awkward moves. The previous pitches had all been on the short side but this pitch (maybe we both missed the anchors?) went for at least 150 feet and was sustained 5.9 broken only by some lower angle choss. We only had 12 draws so after using them all and having skipped a bolt, with at least one more bulge to pull, I had Josh lower me. I back cleaned three draws and finished the pitch with one draw to spare (having skipped two bolts and using the biners from one draw on the anchor). Josh then lead an awesome pitch of endless pocket jugs and I followed it with a final airy pitch to the summit pinnacle. I sat on the knife-edge point horsey style and and then belayed Josh up from a little ledge on the back side of the pinnacle.

Josh leading near the top of pitch 2 on Eagles (just below the two bushes). The line essentially goes straight up the face with the exception of one short traverse.

Josh finishing up the airy arete on pitch 3, one of the best pitches of the route.

Josh climbs out of the first crux section on the uber long pitch 5.

Our shadows from the summit of Eagles before rapping down into this notch and climbing out the other side.

A short rap to the notch behind the summit and an easy but somewhat sketchy traverse (unprotected low 5th) brought us to our stuff. We thankfully chugged water and changed out of our climbing shoes. I then discovered that a rodent had chewed through the rip-stop on my pack and devoured a good portion of my peanut butter and honey sandwiches! That bastard! Disgruntled with the snaffle-hound attack but still stoked and happy with our climbing, we headed down the trail to the car. While Eagles had some dirty and chossy rock, it was mostly solid, was very well bolted, and has fun climbing in an amazing position. We also suspect that there was more dirt on the rap line and the lower route from the recent rain storms. From starting rappels to topping out took us just over four hours.

Looking back at the summit of Eagles.

Snaffle-hound attack left a big (3 inch!) hole in my pack...

...and they ate my sandwich!