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I think I got into the habit of looking at rocks for their potential climbing lines when I was a teenager in Kentucky in the late 1970s. All I know now is that when I visit most climbing areas, just walking through and looking around fills me with adolescent excitement. For me, climbing is at its most exhilarating when it involves exploring new terrain. I get more joy and satisfaction out of on-sighting a pretty 5.9 than out of red-pointing a 5.11 on my 5th try.
So when Andy wrote to say that one of his big goals for our trip to Yosemite was to put up a new route, I was not only enthusiastic, I also had a few suggestions for where we might go exploring. We pretty quickly settled on the Southwest Face of Half Dome – we both loved the climbing on Salathé and Nelson’s route there (which we did with Stephen S.), and we knew several of our friends would want to climb “Snake Dike” and share the hike.
By the time we headed up to Little Yosemite Valley, Andy had convinced Randy to join us for the new route. Not only is Randy good company, but he is also strong technically and has boundless energy. The only question was whether or not he would be happy using a hand-drill for the first time, placing bolts from stances.
After an afternoon reconnaissance out to the Diving Board and back, Andy and Randy spent the next day getting started (while I went off to climb “Snake Dike” with Lauren & Kirsten). The first pitch was easy climbing up a well worn water groove, run-out but not hard. It was a nice warm up in the early morning, since the sun doesn’t get around the shoulder of Half Dome until about 10am.
[Andy leads p1].
Their belay stance put them almost within reach of a beautiful blonde dike. Then things got exciting. With no experience at bolting from stances, they launched up and right in turns. First one would climb to the next good stance, desperately drill, then lower off for a rest while the other carried the team forward to the next good stance. By the time they were able to traverse right onto a sloping dish of a stance, they were simultaneously amped and exhausted with adrenaline.
[Andy leads p2.]
The climbing was very aesthetic, involving lie-backing and frontside-grabbing up a steeply rising dike that managed to slope toward the ground hundreds of feet below even as it rose toward the skyline. The cruxes came whenever they had to cross a break in the dike’s continuity. They carried on partway up the third pitch, learning to make better use of their stances as they went. As they were coming down in the evening, they realized that the run-out on pitch two was beyond anything they would want to do again, so they added one bolt on their way down.
After a night in Little Yosemite, Andy and Randy headed back up, this time with me in tow. They quickly re-led the first two pitches, and as I came up behind them I was struck by their boldness in heading up this line. I asked “What were you thinking?” as I puffed up to the second belay station. They just laughed. Then they went back to it, while I busied myself reinforcing the belay station. This third pitch was looking like the crux, and we just hoped it would connect through to the easier looking ground above. At one point, Andy tried to hook a micro-flake to assist him while he drilled. But about 60 seconds after he weighted it – just long enough to relax – it peeled off the rock and he bashed his knee on the dike’s edge. Ouch!
[Andy “rests.”]
A little further along, Randy found a stance that was so tenuous I expected every back-swing of the hammer to pull him off. I have never spent so much time so totally focused on belaying an unmoving climber before. But he eventually got in his bolt, and when he lowered back to the belay you could see the wear mark engraved in the sole of this shoe from scumming to stay in place.
[Randy drilling p3.]
Finally, after Randy’s key bolt, Andy broke through by dropping below the dike, trading skateboard moves for a hand traverse. That got him to a good stance at last. After that bolt, Randy continued to some relatively easy 5.9 terrain, and he was so happy to be moving again that he ran it out up to the next good belay stance. Later, as I joined him to place the second belay bolt, I managed to stay up on my feet through the crux, but there was absolutely nothing for my hands up there!
[Andy surfing the crux pitch, p3.]
Looking up, the going was clearly going to be less sustained, and with prudent route-finding should be easier. But we were running out of bolts, having only brought about a dozen. Randy started up this pitch, getting a big cam in a solution pocket and placing the first bolt. Then it was my turn.
[Randy spattered with rock dust.]
I got up another 20-25 feet. Judging the terrain ahead to be about 5.8 in a couple of spots, I opted to place one more lead bolt. It took me a while to establish a rhythm of pounding, twisting, and shuffling in place. I only got really comfortable after the drill was deep enough to use as an occasional handhold, and after I realized that the biggest footholds were not necessarily the best footholds.
It would turn out to be the last lead bolt of the route. But it was also the last bolt of the day, as the afternoon was beginning to wear on and it was now obvious we wouldn’t have enough bolts to make decent belays and still get up. We fixed ropes, left our gear at belay three, and headed down to the Valley for more supplies: food, bolts, bits, and a spare wrench that we needed.
[Ropes across the dike.]
It would have been easy to stay down in the Valley, telling ourselves that we had climbed the hard pitches and modern rock climbs don’t really need to top out on anything. Any one of us could have let the other two go back up to tie up loose ends. But that wouldn’t have felt right. The idea had been to take it through to the broken slabs where the “Salathé” and “Snake Dike” meet.
So early in the morning, all three of us loaded up our water and lunch into our daypacks and headed up the Mist Trail. We scrambled up our fixed ropes, and were early enough to still be in the shade while Andy headed up to find a belay stance to finish the fourth pitch. The fifth pitch, which headed right and up yet another blonde dike, showed us that the technical climbing was indeed over, and put us on the slab just to the North of one of the “Snake Dike” stations. A final pitch brought us to the penultimate belay station on “Snake Dike”, and we merged into traffic and headed for the summit, massive and airy.
[Obligatory summit shot. Because summits are obligatory for some of us.]
I would compare “Blondike” to “Crest Jewel”. The dike climbing is beautiful, technical, and more sustained than “Crest Jewel”, but the route is shorter and the pitch connecting to “Snake Dike” is forgettable. Both routes end on pretty summits while giving you grand views of the Valley beyond.
Thanks, guys. This was a very memorable trip to the Valley!
[See mountainproject.com for a detailed topo.]
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