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  • Yosemite: Sunshine Winter Climbing Trip Report

    (by John Duignan, December 2011)
    Climbing at Yosemite … “there is enough to keep you coming back year after year. A great antidote to the Wintertime Blues!”


    “Never go back to a place that has great memories for you”

    The thought struck me as we travelled Highway 120 to Yosemite National Park, California, late last year. Half a lifetime ago I’d hiked the wilderness John Muir trail through the Park. Late September 2010, I’m back to climb some of the famous Yosemite granite routes with Hugh Reynolds, my IMC climbing partner. Twenty-six hours travel from Dublin, we set up tent amongst the pine trees, the fresh pine smell and the warm air a great change from the cold of a Dublin autumn.

    Camp Four, a first-come-first-served campsite with a strict length of stay, is a Mecca for climbers from all over the world, many for the Big Wall aid-climbing that makes the Valley famous.

    The busy tourist period is over, so it’s easy to move around the park. Day number one and a bear cub is ambling by searching for food – so cute. I follow it until I recall that mother bear may not be as friendly. Later in a neighbouring tent, a climber having a midnight snack gets his face swiped by a bear clawing at the food.

    Routes such as Snakedike on Half Dome …

    … and Royal Arches in Yosemite Valley …

    … attract us here – moderate multipitch climbing on excellent rock at around VS level. The granite, we hear, needs its own style of climbing and the crack and chimneys will be difficult for us to appreciate as the grading system alone does not capture the challenge.


    Royal Arches – polished chimney start

    We explore the start of Royal Arches, a five-star 5.7 route with its pendulum aid move in the middle of its 1600 feet – 16 pitches of superb granite climbing. I’m spat out of the polished chimney start. Hugh succeeds but gets a shoulder injury that nags him for the trip. We abseil off and go in search of easier routes to start our trip.

    Curry Village: Spend your energy climbing and avail of the cheap laidback dining with pizza and beer in an all-American atmosphere. Most evenings after a day climbing we kick back and enjoy the display. The friendly natives’ optimism is infectious.


    Glacier Point Apron – climbs in the shade

    Glacier Point Apron next day offers relaxed slab climbing and time to appreciate the feel of Yosemite granite. Monday Morning Slabs and The Goblet offer friction climbing on multipitch routes at an easy level. A great confidence boost.

    We next choose the route Munginella, a four-star 5.6 multipitch climb in the Five Open Books area of the valley. The climb is shared with one other climbing pair and has a great view over Half Dome and the Valley. In the afternoon we go for another four-star climb, After Six on Manure Pile Buttress (Nutcracker, our original plan, is busy and dauntingly polished).


    After Six – a 6-pitch climb on Manure Pile Buttress

    In all we get in over a thousand feet of valley granite climbing at two crags. We descend the trail in the dark. The climbing has been challenging at times with polish on some of the pitches but the overall feeling is sheer joy at the quality granite and the views.


    Looking up the valley from belay on After Six, Manure Pile Buttress

    Glacier Point Apron again next day to enjoy a five-star 5.6 multipitch, The Grack – a stunning crack climb in the shade as the temperature is still in the high 20s. We are using less energy now in finding the routes and getting more confident.


    South-east Buttress on Cathedral Peak, Tuolumne Meadows

    At sunup the following day, we escape the heat of Yosemite valley and drive the 1.5-hour 60-mile trip to Tuolomne Meadows. Our goal is the South-east Buttress of Cathedral Peak, another five-star route – some 6500 feet above Yosemite. The drive takes us through pine groves and opens onto a view of mountains stretching to the horizon. The walk- in takes two hours. It is cold but beautiful. The 700-foot route is very different to the valley routes – large chickenhead knobs abound on the granite, with flake and chimneys on an ever-changing route under clear blue skies, looking down on a lake. It is a popular route and we meet eight climbers spread out on it. The rich accents of Donegal and Yorkshire mix with Argentina and California. We walk out as the light fades, well satisfied.


    Belay, Cathedral Peak, with mountain views

    Next day we get a wilderness permit allowing us to go to the Little Yosemite campsite 3.5 hours trek up from Yosemite Valley. This backcountry camp is near Half Dome – we plan to climb the 800-feet five-star 5.7 route Snakedike.


    Half Dome in the early morning light

    The climbing is at times run out with little protection – what will the knobbly dike entail? In the morning, the heat haze burns off as Half Dome – like a whale’s back – rises above us. It is the most popular climb we have been on and are soon chatting to the other climbers queuing in the dawn light.


    The Snakedike on Half Dome

    The crux pitch contains scary friction moves. You just don’t want this climb to end it gets so enjoyable. We bought new 60-metre ropes for this climb in the excellent climbing shop in the valley – 50-metre ropes would have made the belays much more difficult. Soon we unrope and scramble the final 800 feet to the summit and chill out on the nine-mile descent to the valley. The views from the summit of Half Dome take in the full of Yosemite valley and as far as Tuolomne. “Awesome” is right!

    Next day, back in the valley we hike to the base of El Capitan and view the climbers on the 3000-feet Nose above on aid-climbing routes. We choose a single-pitch 5.7 route Pine Line – you can’t come to Yosemite and not do a climb on El Cap! Faint echoes from the climbers above reach us across the vast granite sea.


    Climbing on El Capitan

    In the afternoon, we visit Knob Hill, just outside the National Park – a renowned site for short interesting routes at VS level. Anti Ego crack gives Hugh some great jamming and I enjoy the amazing knobs on Sloth Wall after the polished crux lowdown.


    Cracks and large chickenheads on Knob Hill

    The pace of the last few days is taking its toll on me. I had forgotten how lumpy the ground feels when camping and my sleep is broken. Hugh’s early-morning enthusiasm keeps the fuse lit. We have one final objective.

    October starts and we are back at Royal Arches in the early morning. The chimney start goes well – our recce has paid off. The easy pitches are a joy as we ascend out of the valley along the cliff line. There are some amazing flakes and corners to climb on and the granite is excellent throughout. On the easy pitches we climb together. We are aware that often the Pendulum pitch is wet – but thankfully we find it dry.


    Hugh makes the pendulum move on Pitch 8 of Royal Arches

    The sky darkens as I race across the easy ground of the last pitch .As the rain starts, I take a bruising fall. Later I will have time to think of the possible consequence of a solitary placement on a 60-metre pitch. An abseil down our ascent route is our best option. By the time we have finished the ten abseils, the skies have changed to blue again. Grinning like schoolkids, we hurry off to celebrate.


    Still talking to one another after a day’s climbing!

    On our final day the rains arrive. It is time to go and we feel fortunate with the weather which shapes so much of what is possible in climbing here. In a short trip, so much is up to Fate but the advice from IMC members Terry O’Neill and Gerry Moss was a great help. Climbing late in the year avoids the heat and the crowds. This is not an expensive destination. The famous climbs on immaculate granite lived up to their reputation – the bonus was the fantastic routes at many other enormous crags offering superb unpolished clean rock. There is enough to keep you coming back year after year. A great antidote to the Wintertime Blues!

  • North Greenland

    (by Richard O’Sullivan, from IMC Newsletter Spring 2004)
    Trekking in Northern Greenland.


    At first, flying over North Greenland in autumn is a bit like flying over a wedding cake, or a blank sheet of paper for that matter. Very, very white. As your eyes become accustomed to the view, the sheet of white begins to take on some form and various textures and contours become visible. First of all mountains, then frozen lakes and rivers and finally huge crevasses in the ice. This is the Inland Ice, an ice cap that sits on top of the second largest island in the world and all but smothers it.

    My next twelve days were to be spent in the small strip of land beside Disko Bay not completely covered by ice. Like all distances in Greenland, everything is relative. In this case “small” still meant bigger than Ireland. We (my brother and I) arrived in a small turbo-prop plane at Ilulissat airport and landed on the river of ice they like to call their runway. The nice man from the national tourism agency who had offered by email to collect us met us. He regaled us with stories of Aurora Borealis (which he said he saw so often he didn’t even bother looking any more), icebergs and frozen fjords – this is what we had come for.

    Ilulissat, like any modern frontier town, was interesting, but rough. The local shop had flat panel displays on the cash register (courtesy of the annual Danish government subsidy) but the customers still carried guns and wore overalls and boots rated to -100 C! We were eager to get moving, so we immediately arranged to join a boat that was heading out to the ice fjord for the day.

    The ice fjord is a truly humbling experience. It is the result of the ice cap glaciers calving huge icebergs into a shallow sea and then those icebergs just keep building up until the pressure finally forces them free into the outer fjord. Even though we were on a sizeable fishing boat, we found ourselves staring up at enormous mountains of ice, some hundreds of feet high. As stunned as we were, we were totally gob-smacked when told that only one-eighth of the iceberg appears above water – it was a bit like sailing round the summit of Lugnaquilla.


    The bergs themselves form two types. First there are the “crazy tops”. These are new icebergs and the tops are twisted, contorted, full of crevasses and seracs. These are bits of broken glacier, which have just fallen into the sea. One look at these and you know why glacier travel is so dangerous. The second type is the “smooth tops”. These are crazy tops that have been in the water so long they have flipped right over so the water-smoothened bottom is exposed above water. Where crazy tops are frightening, smooth tops are beautiful and soothing. The time had come for us to explore closer, so we pulled up beside a smaller smooth top and jumped onto it – first foot straight into a narrow crevasse. Just as well, because the ice was so hard and slick that any slip would have meant a dip in the sea. The captain later told us that he doesn’t carry life jackets because if you fall into that sea, you are dead anyway.

    Our main reason for going to Greenland was to get away from masses of people and experience some raw, untouched nature. That’s what we got when we hiked up the coast to Oqaatsut, a tiny fishing village two days walk away. The map showed us several possible routes, so we opted for one that brought us right up the coast via an isthmus, beyond which we could camp for the night. The journey was hard going, not least because the bog land over which we were walking was frozen solid and there were frozen lakes to be negotiated every kilometre or so.

    Because the Arctic air is so cold and so pristine, distances are very deceptive. When we started our hike, we picked a hill in the distance for lunch. We were long past our lunchtime when we realised we were not much closer to the hill – a close examination of the map showed the hill in question was about 30 miles away! Negotiating the fjords was a tricky business as well. We got to one semi-frozen fjord, which was about 50 metres across. There was a 10-metre gap in the middle, which was not frozen, and the entire force of the river was blasting through that gap. We gingerly climbed over ice-covered boulders to the middle and steeled ourselves for the next step. With a deep breath and a prayer, we stepped into the water. You have not experienced cold until you’ve had a Greenlandic river flowing just below the family jewels. Very carefully, we baby-stepped to the ice on the other side and crawled onto it, gasping. A quick change of socks later, and we were on our way again.

    Our campsite was a magnificent location on frozen moorland overlooking the iceberg-strewn sea. Having hammered the pegs in, we sat down to watch probably the most amazing sunset I’ve ever seen. The sun even had the good grace to set right over a castle-esque berg in a blood red sky. Dinner over, we settled into our bags for the evening. Five minutes later, we were up again, scouring the area for boulders to hold down the flysheet which was now threatening to take off on a trip of its own in the gale force wind which had suddenly picked up.

    Back in the bags, we sat looking at an amazing night sky – the Plough looked as if it was close enough to reach out and touch. We sat enjoying a couple of Jamesons (with ice of course) and I was beginning to wax lyrical when my brother pointed out a streak of phosphorescent green moving across the sky – the Northern Lights! The next few hours were spent in silence, wrapped in down bags, watching nature’s own fireworks display. Curtains of green, white and rose swept across the sky and then fell like rain or soared like a flock of birds. I blessed the long exposure on my camera and crawled outside the tent to take some shots. Lying flat on the reeds and heather, I was able to stay out for about 20 minutes taking photos of the main reason we had chosen Greenland for this year’s trek.

    Before arriving in Oqaatsut (population 40) the next day, we had one more obstacle to face – down-climbing a 150ft snow-covered cliff. By now we were feeling like Frodo and Sam trying to ditch the One Ring. Down we went, and arrived at our accommodation for the night, a really atmospheric log cabin with a paraffin heater and beds in the attic. Water came from melting bits of iceberg. It was very comforting to know that the water we were drinking was over 10 million years old and predated pollution.

      

    We took a boat back to Ilulissat the next day, after lazing around in Oqaatsut, looking at the sealskins drying in the sun while being followed around by friendly pups from the local dog sleigh teams. The people in Ilulissat are very accommodating and friendly. As my Greenlandic and Danish skills are limited (!), we mostly conversed through the international language of smiling, high fives and Tuborg. The people who spoke English told us some disturbing news. They said that over the last ten years or so, they had noticed the winters were getting warmer and the fjords were taking longer and longer to freeze over. This is a particularly acute problem in Greenland as there are no roads between towns and families rely on dog sledding to visit relations and to go ice fishing and seal hunting in winter. Global warming in Greenland would have disastrous consequences for the locals, as well as the rest of the world.

    All in all, I couldn’t recommend Greenland enough as a destination for trekking and relaxing. While a lot of climbing groups head to the granite walls of South Greenland, North Greenland has a lot to offer in that there are fewer people and, in winter, it is truly spectacular with Northern Lights a-plenty and dog sledding to beat the band. In summer, the midnight sun is supposed to be a memorable experience. Autumn is not a bad compromise. You get a taste of the onset of winter, but still with enough daylight to travel around. Ilulissat, Greenland’s second city, has a human population of just under 5,000 and a canine population of just over 7,000. It even has a bar called Murphy’s although the locals said we were the first Irish people they had ever met, and the owner had just thought it was a good name for a pub!

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Glendasan
Glendalough
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