(PART II) Mounts Williamson and Tyndall: A Two Part Adventure

Mount Williamson #6: 14,380 ft; 2nd highest peak in California

Mount Tyndall #7: 14,026 ft; 10th highest peak in California

August 9-10, 2014

By: Stefanie Notte

PART II

Day 3: Sunday

The New Plan: Waking up early and hit the trail 5am. Summit Tyndall and head back to the car (These plans never seem to work). 

I woke up at 5:58am, clearly I slept in. You know those moments when you lay in bed talking yourself out of your first plan just so you don’t have to face the music, all the while staying put in your comfortable nest?  Let’s just say, I was no longer in any hurry to get the day started.  I justified it a hundred ways.  I was tired.  The moment I leave camp I am on a solo hike, and up till this point, I really enjoyed being part of a bad ass team of women.  I wasn’t ready to let that go. I stayed in bed scanning over my body; my feet were the most sore, followed in descending order by my calves, hamstrings, glutes, quads, abs, shoulders.  I laid there in and out of sleep until the inevitable happened, time to go pee.

I had breakfast with the girls, they were getting ready to head back today since they had already summited Tyndall last summer.  I was getting mentally prepared for another hike up the Pass, which in all reality, wasn’t that bad from Anvil Camp.  The one element I’d be facing this time was the heat from the late morning sun.  That is the best part of hiking in the dark, it’s cool enough so you can just keep pressing on while taking less cool down breaks. Anyway, it was during breakfast when I determined that I was going to camp one more night.  Why not?  I like the idea of having a base camp, and I was feeling pretty attached to it.  And, I just shaved off 9+ miles of hiking that day with this epic decision!  But you know what sucks?  My damn Merrells were still soggy.  Fuck those boots.  

Tyndall again from Shepherd Pass

At 9:45am, I was back on trail heading west.  At 10:46am I was at the base of Shepherd Pass and 28 minutes later I was at the crest.  Still making pretty good time.  At 12:11pm I reached the class 2 rock scramble to the North Rib of Tyndall.  This approach is a class 3, and I had a huge realization here.  I AM A SLOW CLASS 3 CLIMBER.  Well, slow to moderate.  I don’t know why that is.  The elevation? The lack of experience?  Being overly cautious?  All the above I suppose.  But, this is good to know.  It got the best of me when I attempted Russell, I followed the timeline in my book: Climbing the California Fourteeners, and shit, I can’t compete.  Anyway, I was in my element, taking my time, enjoying this full body workout.  Finally, I can take some of the pressure off of my legs!  And I have to say, this route was AWESOME!  The only hiccup was when I had to reroute a few times to avoid all the newly fallen snow.  There was one thing I was unwilling to compromise, and that was TRACTION.  Oh, sweet traction!  Hiking in the wet BS yesterday made me realize that I wasn’t going to give in on this one.  At least the bottom of my boots were going to stay dry.  TRACTION!  What a glorious thing.

Almost there! (Williamson to the left)

correction: summitfever2014.blogspot.com , dummy.  

Russell, middle left; Whitney middle right 

High Sierra to the north west

Mount Williamson, she's awesome 

At 2:38 pm, I had summited this beast known as Mount Tyndall!  YESSS!  My PB&J was complete, and I can now call this trip a total success!  Williamson and Tyndall, check and CHECK!  It was a beautiful summit.  Great views of Williamson, Milestone, Whitney, Russell, Langley, and beyond!  The sky was so blue.  What a difference a day makes.  The sun was beaming down on me, and yes, this is when I thought it was a good idea to have that shot of Bourbon.  SO GOOD!  I chilled here for about 45 minutes soaking in that feeling one gets when they feel as if they’ve made it to the top of the world.  And just to note, this register was an easy find.  I also climbed up the exposed rock on top to touch the top.  Now, it counts.  Liquid courage. Well, I have to say that I felt a little woozy on the way down, my judgement seemed to have been altered in a less than positive way.  Oops.  I cruxed for a moment on the descent, rerouting four times before I navigated a possible route.  This kept happening.  I think I was mentally exhausted from this trip.  I was physically tired as well, but not to a point that was compromising.  And, I still felt a slight buzz from that single shot.  Cheap date.  

A questionable but delicious decision (Williamson in the background)

View of the eastern side of the North Rib. Don't slip!

I took a long and arduous route down, zig zagging the rib, and boy, my quads were on fire!  I got back to the Pass at 6:38 pm.  I was out of water.  I was actually out of water for a while but I was not going to stop to filter until I got below the Pass.  It was a mental thing, I just wanted to be closer to camp and finished hiking for the day.  And besides, the lake I stopped at had marmot poop all over.  Damn those scavengers.  I’m going to filter at the creek on my way to camp.  And so I did, somewhere near Pothole.  And you wanna know what else?  “Something is seriously wrong with my MSR ceramic filter, it took nearly 30 minutes to filter 3 liters. Piece of shit. Good thing I'm upgrading to the Sawyer Mini, too bad I left it in the car, too.”  This filter has been the bane of my backpacking existence for quite some time now.  I was always underwhelmed by it’s performance. It takes too long to filter and too much effort.  Seriously, the worst purchase of 2012.   The best? Oh, my green Jetboil Flash with Coffee Press attachment, of course.  

On my way to camp I saw a man with one hiking boot and one Chaco on.  Strange, right?  Poor guy lost a Chaco when crossing the river by my camp.  Actually, this conversation started because he asked me if that was my camp by the river.  I looked at him in a reserved manor, asking him why before admitting to it.  He wasn’t weird or anything, this was just an instinctual reaction.  Then he went into the lost Chaco bit and asked if I could keep an eye out for it.  He was camped close to Pothole, and didn’t have the energy to go back down the hill on a sandal hunt.  Well, let me tell you, he asked the right person.  I was on a mission to play the hero for a minute.  And to no surprise, I found the Chaco about 100 feet up trail from my camp!  YAY!   I took some paracord and tied it to a tree by my camp so it would be an easy find on his way out.  

I got to camp at dusk, partially because it took me so damn long to filter water.  I was beat.  I chugged some water, cleaned up, and crawled back into my down Marmot Angelfire with the liner.  This is the best combo.  I love having a liner for my bag.  It’s like a sheet under a comforter, it’s now a necessity.  And I was out.

Some time during the night, I woke up to an illuminated sky.  The fucking super moon.  Great.  Now we have different names for full moons.  This is getting a little ridiculous. Anyway, the super moon was super bright and keeping me awake for longer than I cared for.  Super.  I eventually fell back asleep.  The next time I woke it was to a bright light again, but this time it was a giant lightning bolt!  This was quickly followed by crackling thunder and a fucking monsoon.  I wish I had a camera that could have done a time lapse or something during this night, because it was full of drama!  Picture this: sleepy me in my green Angelfire in a crouched position with my pack under my ass and my feet together.  I wrapped my arms around my legs and sat there with my head down and eyes closed, in my fuck-off-lightning position.  This storm was right over head, and stayed there for a while.  I was actually afraid to touch my phone to see what time it was because I didn’t want to be associated with any metal, even if it was just my shitty iPhone 4 with a smashed screen.  My Kelty Mesa 2, at a whopping 4 lbs and 11 ounces, was impressive in this rain, not a single drop of water diffused inside.  Not one!  Yes, this was worth the weight.  Go fuck yourself, ultra lighters! Just kidding.  Not really.  I’m still waiting for the day where I can justify spending $500 on a tent, until then, I’ll just appreciate the work out.

Day 4: Monday

Bored, taking pics of myself.  Nice hair.  

Another plan -> wake up early, break down camp early, and get on trail EARLY!  Sounds good, right?  That didn’t happen either.  Early was just not working for me this trip.  This time, it was because of the rain.  It was a stormy morning, thunder, lightning, the whole bit.  Not letting up.  8am came and went.  That was my goal time.  Shit.  None of this was too big of a deal, except that I was planning on being in Sacramento later that day to surprise a friend.  9 o’clock came and went.  Ugh.  I’m now getting bored.  My bag is packed, my boots are semi dry in the vestibule, but my insoles are sitting out in the elements where I left them to dry overnight. Lightbulb!  I went into my first aid kit and pulled out the foot warmers I purchased after the White Mountain trip.  These ones go the entire length of my boot, so there you have it, warm and toasty insoles! I am literally sitting, waiting, wishing for the rain to stop.  Thanks for that Jack Johnson.  9:45am, there it is!  The break in the rain I’ve been waiting for.  Quick!  Move it!  I broke down my soaking wet tent in record speed, attached it to my bag, and fled the scene by 9:57am.  

To the east

To the west

Here we go, a quick nine point five miles to the car.  Racing the clouds.  I was winning for about an hour, and then had to walk up that initial pass.  It slowed me down, but barely. Day 4 of trekking and my trail legs were in full effect!  I reached the top of the pass by 11:49am, ten minutes after the rain caught up with me.  I looked east, and it was a sunshiny day in the town of Independence.  I looked west, and it was a dark angry day in the High Sierra.  I kept moving, no breaks.  Moments later, the dark clouds won, and from that moment on, I was hiking out in the thunderstorm.  Every step of the way.  I got to Symmes Creek at 1:10pm, and knew I was getting close to the finish line.  At 1:24pm, I reached the trail head!  Parking lot full.  Still pouring rain.  I had to walk the additional 1.4 miles to my car from here, and I did note that, if in fact my car made it to the trail head, there was no way it would be coming out of there!  The road consisted of two mini rivers and was washed out more than ever before.  Okay, everything happens for a reason.... the MINIsituation was a life saver!  The last section of hiking went by in a blur, but the excitement of seeing my car was in full effect as it always is after a trip!  

The stormy mountains

At this moment, at 2:03pm on Monday, day 4, I took off my Merrell Moab Ventilators for the last time.  Bittersweet.  They looked like shit.  But, they certainly brought me to some amazing places.  An ode to my Merrells:

“Dear Merrells, you were a great boot.  I acquired you in 2012 right before my first epic Mt. Whitney trip.  I know I didn’t break you in sufficiently, but I do recall that gigantic blister you created on the inside of my left heel.  I secretly hated you, for each step I had to take for the rest of that trip (8 miles to go).  And then, I fell back in love with you for each trip thereafter.  You brought me to the top of Kilimanjaro (a nineteener!), and for that, I will forever be thankful. It really wasn’t until the White Mountain trip earlier this year that I started to despise you again.  And from there, I knew you were in your golden years.  Now, you reside somewhere in a dumpster in Sacramento, not the best burial, but appropriate none the less.”

Dear Williamson and Tyndall, thank you for the challenges you provided me on this epic trip.  Williamson, you are a huge bitch!  And Tyndall, you are a tricky lil’ mountain as well.  I respect you both, and now, to the next endeavor.  Yep, Russell.  I’m coming back for you!