cactus to clouds intro

I first heard about Cactus to Clouds a few months ago from one of my coworkers, Dominic. The route to the tram gains 8,000 ft in ~11 miles (10,000 ft in ~16.5 miles if you include the summit of San Jacinto Peak). October rolled around and with the more reasonable daytime temps, I decided to give it go. I talked Jascha into accompanying me. I had read varying reports about what to expect for time. The most authoritative C2C site said that that middle of the pack marathoners can expect to reach the tram in 4-5 hours. I’m not exactly in ultra shape and although I’ve been doing my usually shorter hill runs during the week, I haven’t done any long alpine days since August. One of the Summitposters I know took 16 hours to do the full out-and-back so I figured I’d be in that ballpark if I did the whole thing. There was also a lot of online chatter about the steepness of the trail and the difficultly of navigation the lower trail system, so I had Jascha download a GPS track. I also printed a topo map, but I wasn’t sure about the accuracy of the hand drawn route annotations. Unfortunately, the Tom Harrison topo series only covered the areas in close vicinity to San Jacinto State Park, not the portion of the trail that passed through the Agua Caliente Reservation.

We headed down to Palm Springs the night before to avoid adding 2+ hours to the start time. I set my alarm for 5:30 am. My alarm didn’t go off and I woke up at 6:30. We left the well-marked Museum trailhead at ~7:20. Below the picnic tables there was a fair amount of trail branching, some of which was obvious switchback cutting but some also fed into alternate systems that headed off to the east and west. For the most part at the alternate trail junctions the correct trail was to the right. Parts of the trail are marked with painted white dots and arrows, although at one point the markings led in the wrong direction. The trail heads up the ridge initially in a northerly direction then diverts to the northwest, with the primary visible landmark being a major drainage the east. The Mojave desert flora included Mojave yucca (Yucca schidigera), creosote bush (Larrea tridentata) and various species of cacti (the most striking being the red-spined barrel cactus, Ferocactus acanthodes). Along with the backdrop of granite boulders the plant life provided some major eye candy to take my mind off the long path ahead.

After the picnic tables we passed the warning signs about the strenuous nature of the trail and lack of water and the one for big horn sheep lambing season closures (1 January to 30 June). With the exception of one primary junction (which I suspect led to the Ramon road trailhead), the trail was well marked and there were less side trails. Before long we hit the ~ 3.5 mile section where the trail flattens out somewhat. We took a short snack break and I found out Jascha had accidentally deleted the GPS track while recalibrating the elevation from our recent Peru trip. The intermittent winds kept the temperatures down, although it also kicked up eye-stinging dust. As we approached the crest of the ridge we caught our first glimpse the large pinnacle that marks the top of the tramway. With the introduction of manzanita and pine trees, the Mojave desert flora slowly transformed into that of the Peninsular Ranges.

The trail contoured below the ridge proper and crossed the stream bed with the huge water worn granite slab marked on many maps as “Flat Rock”. After the slab the trail again steepened. To add to the psychological crux, the trail was in worse condition than below (due to the its above snowline elevation) with deep sand and loose rocks in spots. I checked my watch and knew that I could likely break 5 hours to the tram if I kept a steady pace. Near the top Jascha started to lag behind, but told me to keep going. I passed 3 guys and made it to the top of the plateau (the other side of the rock from the tram station) in 4:55. In ~10 minutes Jascha crested the trail and announced that he was done due to hamstring issues. He encouraged me to do the whole route, but I felt bad making him wait and have to shell out $25 for a taxi to go the 6 miles back to the car. Plus, I knew I’d likely finish in the dark and wasn’t sure how easy it would be to navigate by headlamp and topo map. I decided to backtrack to retrieve the car, which I estimated would take somewhere between 3 and 4 hours.

I managed to avoid most of the side trail detours on the return trip. Fortunately, I remembered some of the distinctive rock formations from the ascent and was able to confirm that I was on route. I could see the golf course below the museum so I knew in what cardinal direction to head. About 0.8 miles from picnic benches I thought I may have taken a wrong turn and was headed for the Ramon trail system. It was hard to tell with the trail weaving in and out of the large granite boulders. I could see where I wanted to go, but not which trail system to take. I decided to cross the boulder field to a trail that I was fairly certain was headed in the right direction. Finally, I made it to the warning signs. When I got to the bottom Jascha was there to meet me. He reported that he had caught the tram almost immediately after we had parted and scored a ride back to his car from two of the guys we had passed on the trail. He passed the time at the coffee shop and napping on the grass. Total time: 8:40. I'd like to head back and go for the full out-and-back before the days get too short and the snow starts to linger. Stay tuned.

Assessment: The trail is similar to Mt Wilson in terms of steepness, but longer. The bottom section is navigable without a GPS, but it may add some extra time with detours; a descent of the lower section in the dark would be trickier. If you get off-route the terrain is accommodating to x-country travel.

Additional References:
San Jacinto State Park topo map
Summitpost description
Trail topo (from the Cactus to Clouds Hiking Guide site)

the most spectacular barnyard on earth

Due to Jascha’s intestinal issues, our Huayhuash departure got pushed out a day. My guidebook advised that we take a bus to Huallanca and get let off at Quartelhuain (aka km 38), so we booked bus tickets from Huaraz to Huallanca. My topo map (Brad Johnson’s Cordillera Huayhuash 1:50000 map) did not show the alternate route from Huaraz to Huallanca that completely bypasses Quartelhuain. Fortunately the road was good and the detour didn’t add much extra time. We hired a taxi to take us from the dreary mining town of Huallanca to km 38. Although Jascha’s turista has mostly abated he now had a cold, not ideal at altitude.

My initial plan was to hike up and over the Cacanan Pass (15,387 ft) to access the east side of the range for a day, then cross-country over Garagocha Punta (Pass) back catch to the westerly route. I knew we would have to do an abbreviated version given our late start. At the trailhead we saw the remnants of a trekking camp from the night before. That group, like most, was employing mules, porters, and cooks. We were self-supported. I’m not a huge fan of backpacking for the sake of backpacking, but having climbed in the Andes previously, I know that glaciated peak slogs are not high on my list of fun activities. From what I’d seen from other people’s Huayhuash photos, I figured I could make an exception to my anti-backpacking principles.

We started up the trail around noon. About 500 vertical feet from the pass it started to rain. We backtracked and took shelter in a cave. Jascha told me he wasn’t doing well with the altitude. I had him take an acetazolamide pill and we decided to abandon our easterly excursion. On a 2003 trip to Bolivia I had been up to 19,974 ft, so I had some experience with higher altitudes. Jascha had not been higher than 14,200 and his cold was compounding the effects. Once we saw a break in the weather we headed down to camp near the trailhead. The rain started up again so I left Jascha in another alcove while I looked for a tent site. I was starting to get the feeling that we would be hiking through a giant pasture for 3 days, albeit a scenic one. I found a flat spot behind some boulders and we set up the tent in the rain. At this point I was regretting that we had not brought the larger tent, although I was thankful that I had invested in an e-book reader before I left and read up on Sister Ping’s human trafficking ring. Jascha went to sleep immediately, but I woke him around 6 pm to make him eat.

The next morning I awoke to first light and a tent covered with ice. We also had 2 visitors in the way of friendly dogs, who were thoroughly enjoying the rolling terrain. One of them extracted half of a freshly killed sheep carcass from a small cave ~100 feet from our tent and proceeded to roll on it. As we were packing up a local woman approached and asked for a fee of 15 soles each (~$5) ‘por la protección’. I had read that we should expect to have to pay camping fees so it didn’t come as a surprise. She gave us a receipt and left with our money and the sheep carcass.

The trekking route detoured onto the dirt road to the village of Rondoy (more like a few stone huts). At this point we had to decide whether to take the direct dirt road to Llamac or take the more scenic trekking route over another pass and along the base of the Huayhuash or split up and take separate routes. After some deliberation Jascha said that he would join me on the more scenic route. We left the dirt road and headed up the valley following cow trails. From time to time we were followed by one of the curious, drooling bovines. As we heading south the views of Rondoy (19,258 ft) and its subsidiary peaks came into view. We were in the most picturesque cow pasture I had ever encountered. I was glad that I had the topo map because with the cow trails, the hikers’ trail had become increasingly more difficult to follow and I had to navigate by topographic features. The crux, the 15,584 ft Sambuya Pass, was in view but Jascha was having a difficult time keeping up, and the wind and cloud cover was making it increasingly colder.

Finally, we crested the saddle and caught a glimpse of the intensely turquoise Solteracocha Lake with the massive Jirishanca and Yerupaja peaks and associated glaciers looming above. The amazing views made the slog well worth it (at least for me). Again we encountered a maze of trails, but this time we chose poorly and ended up on what Jascha called ‘a third class grass' slope. Fortunately, we made it through the cliff band and onto some sheep trails which dropped us into a nasty patch of brush, easy passage for those under 3 ft in height. After what seemed like forever we found our way to the valley floor. As we cruised toward the main camping area once again the storm clouds rolled in. Rainy season was a month away yet we had experienced persistent afternoon/evening showers two days in a row. We sped up, but by the time we reached a suitable site the rain and winds were in full force and our nerves were frayed. We hurried to get the tent set up (which was still wet from the previous day) and once again piled in with our damp gear.

I warned Jascha that we’d need to get an early start the next day if there was any hope of making it to Chiquian or Huaraz the following day. It was Sunday and taxi/bus availability in Llamac were uncertain, plus we had one more obstacle, a 13,800 ft pass. We spent another restless night in our cramped tent. The next morning, like clockwork, some locals came by for our camping fees. Apparently, we had crossed into another zone, so our previous payment wasn’t transferable. We hurriedly packed up and headed out toward Llamac. On the way we were advised by the father of the men we had paid that it was too late to make it to Huaraz. Conveniently his daughter owned a hostel in Chiquian, so I decided to ignore this advice.

After not too long the trail began to gradually climb out of the river valley; it reminded me of the oak chaparral hills of California minus the backdrop of 19,000 ft peaks. Jascha was still not feeling well and started falling behind. While I waited I chatted with Martin, a guy from Switzerland who had done the entire Huayhuash circuit self-supported in 10 days instead of the usual 18 (with support). He said that the locals confirmed that the weather had been unseasonably wet this year. I was most impressed that he had lugged around a huge SLR set-up the whole time.

When Jascha caught up I found out that he was doing even worse than before. We still had a mile or so to the pass and I offered to take some of his gear but he said no. I was happy to finally crest the pass. Jascha was out of water and still feeling nauseous. I knew we had to hurry if there was any hope of getting out of Llamac that day so I urged him to keep moving. I was aiming to reach Llamac by 11:30 am to make the 1 pm Chiquian-Huaraz bus, but I watched 11:30 come and go. We played leap frog once again with Martin and finally rolled into the village of Llamac. The first thing I noticed was the total lack of taxis. Luckily one of the locals came up and said ‘bus?’. By some stroke of luck we’d arrived just in time to catch the 12:30 bus to Huaraz. That meant a hot shower at the Steel Guest House and dinner at our favorite restaurant, La Brasa Roja, but best of all no tent.

The Route

on the ají trail

We arrived in Lima at 3 in the afternoon to uniformly grey skies. I wasn't sure if it was overcast or smoggy, but I strongly suspected the former. Our hostal was run by a kind older woman, named Marisol, who stopped by to make sure our room was OK. We ventured out for our first taste of true Peruvian pollo a la brasa, which we found in a nondescript place next to the gargantuan supermarket, Plaza Vea. When I asked for ají the waiter brought us out the special red version from behind the counter. The chicken turned out to be the best pollo a la brasa I've had to date, with the perfectly spiced dry rub and smoke-infused flesh.

After remediating the sleep deprivation from our red eye flight to Lima, and a fresh pot of Bialetti espresso from Marisol, we caught our flight to Cuzco. I had exchanged emails in Spanish with the company we'd arranged for the Machu Picchu part of the trip and to the best of my knowledge we were supposed to be picked up from the airport. We were greeted at the gate and escorted by a man from the guiding service whose cell phone ring tone was amusingly, Bon Jovi's 'Shot Through the Heart'. Our hotel, the stylish Picola Locanda, was high up on the hill on a steep, cobblestone pedestrian walk above Plaza de Armas, so I got in some training for the Cordillera Huayhuash portion of the trip (Jascha let the driver carry his pack as usual because he can't say no).

We had an hour before the service was supposed to give us an overview of the Machu Picchu trip so we took a walk up the hill to Sacsayhuaman, one of the many Inca ruins in the area. We found a pathway that cut under a barbed wire fence (the lower wires conveniently tied up to form a passage way) and bypassed the roadway. The pathway took us up to a series of stone terraces and from the top provided a view of the remaining ruins. We didn't have much time so we headed back to our hotel.

After handing over our trip fees we headed down the hill for a satisfying set lunch at El Fogon and a visit to Qoricancha, the remains of an Incan temple housed inside the Cathedral de Santo Domingo. Sadly, very little of the actual ruins remained (most had been restored post-earthquake), so we spent more time looking at the Catholic paintings, which were littered with a pleasing array of demons, sickness, and death. I noticed that no one, Spanish speaking or otherwise, was paying any attention to the 'no photography' signs.

Next on the list was hitting the local pharmacy for Cipro and acetazolamide. As we passed the Plaza de las Armas we noticed several displays of political art bringing light to Alberto Fujimori, his head of intelligence, Vladimiro Montesinos, and the numerous victims of the regime's death squads. After finding a phramacy, I made Jascha return the Cipro after he got charged $25 per course (we later found it for $3 in the non-touristy part of town). We wandered around the locals' part of town and found el Mercado de Santa Ana, where we picked up cheese and Jascha's new drink of choice, Negrita brand Chicha Morada. Morada. As dusk started to fall the anticuchos stands started coming out and for ~$0.35 I picked up a skewer laden with scrumptious ají.

At 7:45 am the next morning we were picked up for the long trip to Aguas Calientes. I decided that I didn't want to deal with the train/hotel/entrance fee logistics and the tour provided logistics coordination at less than what I could arrange on my own. The trip was long, ~6 hours of driving (much of it on dirt roads) plus another 30 minutes on the train. We reluctantly set our alarms for 4:15 am to allow time to hike up to the entrance and procure one of the coveted numbers for the trek up Huayna Picchu in lieu of the guided portion of our tour.

We set out just before 5 am and after 50 minutes of trails and stairways we reached the entrance station. The gates opened at 6 and everyone anxiously awaited for the perfect photo op as the first light hit the ruins. The size of the complex was massive, but what set it apart from somewhere like Angkor Wat was the topology of the site and surrounding land. We crossed the site, admiring the perfect granite boulders that littered the area, and wandered over to the Huayna Picchu checkpoint. After 25 minutes of standing in line it was our turn to enter. We passed at least 20 people on the steep stairways that led up to the peak that overlooks Macchu Picchu and provides excellent views of the snow-capped surrounding peaks. Once we returned to the site we toured more of the ruins and lounged on the grassy terraces, knowing that we'd have to face the long van ride back to Cuzco. I was covered with bug bites, which I suspected were from the flies I had seen that looked a lot like the S American vector for leishmaniasis, but I knew my risk of contracting anything was extremely low.

On the ride back home Jascha was having a hard time staying warm and felt nauseous. Ironically, two days earlier he had scoffed at me for not eating doner kebab, which I had thought wasn't sufficiently cooked. He though that he had some life-threatening exotic disease; I figured he had a somewhat severe case of turista and made him take Cipro. I wasn't sure what that meant for our trip to Huaraz the next day or for our Cordillera Huayhuash trip, but he agreed to fly back to Lima as planned 'for access to better hospitals'.

one with the moon

Jascha's announcement that he no longer wanted to solo 4th class+ with fatal exposure put a major damper on this year's alpine climbing plans. The season had already gotten off to a slow start with busy work schedules and lingering t-storms, but now I had to either quickly round up partners or adjust my wishlist. Having soloed Venusian Blind last summer with Miguel, Moon Goddess didn't seem totally out of question. Granted it was a grade higher (5.8 versus 5.7), but like most High Sierra routes I knew it wasn't sustained. I was familiar with quality of rock on Venusian (just one arete over), so I took reports of horribly loose rock with a grain of salt. I also knew that there was a gully to the left of the route into which one could bail if things got too sketchy. My main concern was getting off-route on more difficult terrain, but I figured between the detailed route descriptions from summitpost and Supertopo I'd figure it out.

The night before the weather report daytime max temps in the high 40s, but I hoped it would likely be warmer as it was the weekend before on Spire Col. I gave myself an extra hour of sleep to let things warm up and left the trailhead at 6:10 am. It was 42F. Fortunately, as I got into the sun things started to warm up. There was one other party on Dark Star, but amazingly no one that I could see on Venusian or Moon Goddess. Last July there were at least 3 other parties on Venusian on a Wednesday. I made good time to the bottom of the snowfield, reaching its base in little less than 3 hours. Unfortunately, no parties ahead of me also meant no steps kicked into the snowfield and I hadn't bothered to bring crampons or an ice axe (I realize this happened last year as well). The snow was too firm to kick more than tiny ledges with my approach shoes. I grabbed a sharp rock and stepped from sun cup to sun cup. At the spots where the sun cups ran out I chipped out handholds and gingerly traversed the slope. This whole exercise added at least 20 minutes.

The first part of the route is shared with Venusian and consists of heading up a series of 3rd class ledges. The next six or so pitches were 4th class and provided the perfect warm-up for the exposed 5.7 traverse I knew would come when I reached the first tower. At the bottom of the tower I changed into my climbing shoes and peeked around the corner. For once the descriptions were accurate when they said exposed. Granted the holds were positive, but the wall was completely vertical and it was a long way down (more descriptive photo courtesy of Miguel here). The thing I find so satisfying about soloing it that once I'm on a committing section my mind is completely clear to focus only on the task at hand. Even doubts about my ability to complete the moves or concerns over holds pulling out completely disappear. Other than lane-splitting on my motorcycle it's the only activity I've found that truly frees my mind of its usual thought storm.

With the traverse past me I climbed into the notch that leads up to the Ibrium Tower and the crux. From the cushy belay ledge the crux looked somewhat intimidating, a 5.7 lichen covered chimney followed by a 5.8 dihedral. I could see a reasonable escape route into the gully, but decided that I might as well give the route a go since I was here. The chimney was fairly easy and despite the two desperately placed cams jammed for eternity in the dihedral, the crux wasn't too bad. I scrambled up to the white marble belay ledge and around the corner to the narrow 4th class ledge system. I could how other parties got sucked into the harder terrain above, but with Dave Daly's excellent route description routefinding wasn't an issue.

I easily found the "diving board" chockstone (as described by Dave) that marked the top of the next pitch. The 5.7 gully took me up the back side of Ibrium tower. The 5.7ish downclimb into the notch was more like 12 feet than 20. I approached my final challenge, an exposed 5.7 crack requiring committing lieback moves. This section wasn't as steep as I expected and although it did require a few lieback moves, there were large intermittent footholds and it wasn't sustained. With that behind me I knew I was home free. The final 5.6 tower was uneventful, and before long I was on the class 2-3 terrain that led up to the summit. It had taken me 3 hours, 30 minutes to climb the route. In another 30 I would be at the summit.

There were still no signs of other parties once I topped out. The views of the Palisades were spectacular as always. After the requisite summit register session I headed down, hoping I'd easily find the Contact Crack downclimb. The route was well cairned and I remembered that the crack lay to the left of the usual rap station. Once at Contact Pass I made the mistake of descending too close to Temple Crag (hoping I could get in a glissade) and traversing the loose moraine debris to reach more stable ground. I was happy to be back on the more stable talus field and even more so back on the trail. I cruised back down to my car stopping only to take a photo for some guys from Bakersfield. They asked if I'd been hiking. I pointed to Temple Crag and said "See that ridge in the middle. I just climbed it." They were shocked. I hurried back to the trailhead, hoping to get back close to our Temple Crag time. I clocked in at 10:55, just 6 minutes short.

finding light on dark shadows

note: This trip report also appears on summitpost.

Thursday rolled around and I knew that the only thing that could free my mind from thoughts of work was climbing. A day of sport climbing or a 5-pitch trad route was not going to cut it; I needed to go bigger, so I set my sights on the full 10-pitch version of the classic route Dark Shadows. The vast majority of people climb the 4-pitch version of Dark Shadows and most of guidebooks were spotty on details for the remaining 6 pitches. Jerry Handren’s Red Rocks guide had the most info on the route but provided only vague information about the descent from the Mescalito summit. He made mention of two walk-off options (neither recommended). I knew that we could descend Cat in Hat, that is if we could find our way from the summit to the top of the route. Given our workloads there was no way we were going to beat the late afternoon traffic to Vegas so we didn’t end up getting out of town until 8:30 pm.

Not surprisingly, we didn’t make it to the Pine Creek parking lot until around 10 am. We made the mistake of leaving the main trail too early and had to bushwhack to get back on route. Had we stayed on the trail we would have ended up directly at the base of the climb. No time was lost though because we had to wait for a party of two from Denver/Boulder to finish rapping. They had spent the last hour getting on of their ropes down after it became lodged in a crack (par for the course on many Red Rock raps). We were surprised by the lushness of the canyon vegetation so late in the year. The rope soaking pools of water were still present at the base of the route.

At 11:15 I started up the first pitch, a bolted slab. One of the CO crew kindly yelled up that I could link the first two pitches. The second pitch was a 5.6 polished dihedral. I wasn’t quit ready to commit to smearing on the slick rock so I used the crack and edges for my feet. At the traverse to the belay I was halted by a party of two from Tacoma, WA, who were just finishing a rap to the second belay. They originally said they were from Seattle until I disclosed that I grew up in a redneck town close to where they lived. After ~20 minutes the belay ledge was free and Jascha headed up.

The next pitch had a short 5.8 crux early on, forcing me to place gear on a somewhat tenuous hand jam. Fortunately, the climbing eased up higher in the crack and face holds saved me from smearing on the polished walls. Pitch 4 followed a left leaning, narrowing crack. I was unable to get any pro in the main crack but found a reasonable placement in a smaller crack. I was thankful because the next set of moves felt off-balance. I set up a belay on the standard pitch 4 anchors. As I waited for Jascha to come up I looked at what I thought was the path ahead. Above and to the left of me was a seam with two pieces of fixed pro that led to a crappy white sandstone roof which looked devoid of any jugs from below. All of this was accompanied by pretty much non-existent footholds. Once Jascha arrived I consulted my route description. I was pleased to learn that I was at the wrong anchors for the extended route, so I had Jascha traverse around the corner to the correct belay.

Pitch 5 started off with a bolt leading to a juggy roof, then up a crack to an anchor on a pillar. Handren’s description wasn’t specific about which of the 2 pillars to choose, but I ended up correctly selecting the one on the left. By now I was fully exposed to the elements. The wind made communication difficult, but it also made the temperature more pleasant under the blazing June Vegas sun. The quality of the rock wasn’t as good as the lower sections; I was now climbing on the softer white sandstone, although some of the coveted brown varnish remained. Unlike the lower pitches the anchors weren’t set up for a rap, although someone had created an ad hoc one with webbing through the bolt hangers. I suspected we’d have to find another way down.

The description for the next pitch mentioned a step across to a chimney protected by a bolt and a piton. From my vantage point I couldn’t see any fixed protection. I had 2 options, a wide chimney on the left that offered no good gear placements and a narrower off-width to the right. I chose to climb the face between, using the right-hand crack for pro. Higher up I found a bolt to the right of the crack. I found the alcove as described and made the traverse up and left to a now single bolt anchor.


Pitch 7 started off with a finger crack and ended with a small ledge below a roof. Not finding many opportunities for gear placement at the ledge I continued up the next pitch to the right of the roof and on to a series of shrubby ledges. I set up a belay just below the first ledge, but as I feared Jascha could barely hear me with the terrain between us and the gusty winds. Eventually he figured out that he was on belay and headed up. Once he arrived we took down the anchor and scrambled up to the official belay at the base of twin cracks up and to our left. The next pitch followed the twin cracks and ended with a single bolt anchor on a large ledge. Handren described this as 110’ but it was closer to 80’.

We were making good time, but I tried not to be overly optimistic given what I’d read about the difficulties of the descent. The description for the final pitch mentioned a facing-corner to huecoed roof. To my left was a white-sandstone dihedral ending at a blank-looking slab traverse to a roof. To my right was a varnished, shallower, but also right-facing corner, which led more directly to the roof. I chose left. As I approached the roof I could see good edges on the slab traverse (maybe next time). I found a horizontal crack to place a cam below my final stance before starting the roof, but then nothing to protect the roof moves. Fortunately, the roof revealed sizeable handholds and a spot for an excellent nut placement once I stood up at the lip. I scampered up the remaining terrain and before long I topped out on the large ledge about 150’ below the summit. Jascha soon followed, and we finished the last pitch in just under 5 hours.

After a rest we packed up the rope and looked for a way up to the summit. We found a series of ramps interconnected with short 5.7-8 sections. Once we topped out we looked at the task ahead. I knew the approximate location of Cat in the Hat, but not what the buttress looked like from above or how to navigate the ramp systems to get down to the appropriate level. We found a bolted anchor with UV damaged webbing, but decided to look for something better. After getting cliffed out a few times trying to find the top of Cat in the Hat we headed along on the summit plateau up the canyon. Eventually we encountered a series of cairns. I had read about several walk-offs so I figured there was a good chance that they marked the path down. From time to time the path disappeared into the bushes. The cairns wound around the plateau and eventually led down a series of ramps on the north side of the formation. We thought we were on the descent trail until the cairns ended abruptly at the edge of a cliff.

Fortunately, we were not the first to cliff out there and there was a fairly new tri-cam/nut/tree anchor. To be on the safe side we set up a double rope rappel and headed down. The ledges were covered ferns and large trees. Once we were done with the first rap I waited to make sure the ropes pulled cleanly then headed down to scout our next rap. Though difficult to see from above I found the second rap station and we headed down to the canyon floor. We were ~10 minutes upstream from the start of the route. It took both of us pulling to get our ropes down, but thankfully they pulled cleanly. We walked over gnarled tree roots, past frog-filled pools, and back to the car.

more like it

After anxiously waiting for a break in the t-storms, last Sunday we saw our chance to head back to Tahquitz. We had our sights on The Long Climb (with the Wong variation). Our prior trip to Tahquitz involved a major traffic jam on Whodunit, so I was hoping for an additional parting of the crowds to return to our normal pace. Our original plan was to go on Monday, but after checking the weather forecast Sunday seemed like a better choice. Consequently, we didn't leave L.A. until 10:30 am.

I made a last minute decision to ditch my #4 Camalot in the car despite the 'gear to 3.5"' recommendation. It had been an intensive month of work for both of us and I was feeling lazy about carrying extra gear. We started up the route around 1:30 pm seeing only one party several pitches up. As usual there were quite a few people on Whodunit, but nothing like Memorial Day weekend.

Right off the ground I realized that there would be no easing into the grade on this route. It was solid 5.8. My brain was having a hard time adjusting focus from search engine optimization to gear placement and my erratic sleep schedule wasn't helping. I was feeling far from efficient, but I wasn't ready to give up quite yet and pressed onward. At the top of the pitch I selected the left-hand belay to get longer range view of the path ahead. Mummy Crack loomed above me and I hoped that I wouldn't regret leaving my #4 cam in the car.

I prepped Jascha on how to haul his pack (as recommended in the summitpost description) and headed up. I was pleased to discover a nice slot which started out just inside of the crack. This allowed me to climb it more like a lieback instead of doing grovelly chimney/offwidth moves. The only caveat was that the slot angled further into the crack the higher up I went until I could barely reach it. I set my belay slightly short and to the left of the usual spot near the left-facing corner to take full advantage of the sun. With the wind and passing clouds it was starting to get chilly. My belay spot gave me a great vantage point to watch the various parties on Whodunit. The downside was that the gear placements were a bit shallow and sparse. Jascha started up and was having difficulties with his pack getting stuck in the crack below (and out of his reach), so he decided to fully weight the rope to haul up the pack and wear it. It took all of my strength (and a few leg wraps) to hold his 230 lbs while he fidgeted with his pack for what seemed like 10 minutes. OK, so in retrospect my sparse belay was probably not exactly the best plan. I was happy to feel him finally unweight the rope and continue on.

We had several options for the next pitch and I chose the 'crack to slab' option from the route description because it seemed like it required more finesse than burl. The moves turned out to be somewhat tenuous, and I briefly entertained (but abandoned) the idea of traversing back left into the crack. After a few moves I was back on easier ground and soon found the dead mahogany tree that marked the belay.

On pitch 4 I ignored the route description and headed straight up the (5.7+?) crack, which seemed better for rope management. I had a bit of difficultly following the route description afterward, only finding one pine tree above instead of the two described. I decided to keep going to the next ledge and found the broken piton in the corner as noted in the route. From below I had trouble believing that this was 5.8, but I got a solid nut placement next to the piton to protect the awkward moves.

I finished the climb by going up and slightly right, topping out near the top of Maiden Buttress. I could see where one of the large blocks up top had recently slid off the top (scary). Jascha had a hard time hearing me yell 'on belay', but eventually got the message and headed up. He topped out ~5:15 pm, much better than the >7 hours it took us to get through the Whodunit clusterf**k. It was just the break we needed to get through the next project push.

taste of tuolumne

Memorial Day weekend rolled around and Jascha and I were both deeply entrenched in meeting project deadlines. A 3 day climbing trip was out of the question and I was craving multi-pitch trad, so Tahquitz was an obvious choice. With its high quality granite Tahquitz is like a mini-Tuolumne Meadows a mere 2 hours from our house. I had picked out the classic 7-pitch 5.9, Whodunit, knowing full well that we might be waiting in line. The route was first climbed as an aid route (5.8, A1) in 1957 by Joe Fitschen and Royal Robbins, then in 1966 freed by Tom Higgins and Bob Kamps.

We got a relatively late start for our endeavor, leaving the house at 7:30 am. In retrospect, barring a 4:30 am departure, we made the right choice. The group of 3 in front of us had apparently arrived much earlier only to sit and wait in line for an extended time behind several other parties. Nevertheless, it was frustrating to watch them refuse to start a pitch until the follower had left the belay above. It wasn't like they were flying up the rock and for some reason there was always a 15+ minute delay from the time their leader(s) yelled "off belay" to when they were ready for the others to start following. To top it off one of the guys was a fairly new leader so that took even longer. I guess it could have been worse; it was a pleasant 75F and we spent our time lounging on pristine granite cliffs.

The first crux was on pitch 1 and entailed pulling an overlap on a very thin finger crack with friction holds for feet. For once I was thankful to have small fingers/hands and with that I was lucky to get in an occasional finger lock. The set of TCUs that Jascha bought me for my birthday came in handy. I didn't attempt any heroics like using only passive gear. Unfortunately, we weren't able to link pitches 1 and 2 because the parties above us refused to do so.

The next pitch transitioned from slab to dihedral and brought us to a cushy ledge below the chimney, where we sat waiting for at least 45 minutes. To pass the time we watched another party of 3 on The Consolation (also 5.9), and from whom we learned the classy phrase "Shut your whore mouth." Despite looking sketchy, the soloist we had seen earlier on The Long Route (I think) pulled through and was now far out of our view.

Finally, it was our turn for the chimney, which I knew held an awkward 5.9 "mental crux" to exit the combo chimney/roof. Fortunately, there was a comfy stem leading up to it. I managed to get a good nut placement to protect the exit move (so much more satisfying than a cam). At first glance the move looked improbable. It involved reaching way behind for an offwidth, thankfully made easier by a wide stem. The next set of moves weren't exactly confidence inspiring but I made it up to the next belay without a fall. I was entertained by Jascha's grimaces as he approached the anchor.

The next pitch started off with parallel cracks which offered the choice of a hand or a finger crack. I alternated between them. At the top I wasn't sure which way to go and opted for a somewhat sketchy traverse to a small pillar. Jascha yelled up to me that he saw something red fly by; I had a strong suspicion that it was either my Omega Link cam or my C4 Camalot. When Jascha arrived I realized that I had lost my ~1 year old C4, which must have come unclipped from my gear slip when I was leaning against the left side of the dihedral. I was most annoyed when I realized that I had just missed the last round of gear sales and was looking at ~$65 full price to replace it.

I was starting to realize that all of the pitches so far were fairly sustained at 5.7+. Pitch 5 was no exception and provided me with a tenuous reach for a sort of jug. After having my foot slip off once I reset my nut to reduce the potential of decking on the ledge below. Once again we caught up with the party of 3. I figured we had another 2+ pitches ahead of us, but was pleased to learn that the piton marking the last 5.8 section was just above us. I ran the rope out just below the summit, so when Jascha arrived I had him lead the final friction slab section. We made it on top ~7 pm, >7 hours after we started (we usually average 30 min per pitch for almost full rope length pitches). Oh well.

We picked up my pack and made it back to the car in time to watch all of the Idyllwild restaurants close. All in all it was a stellar route, and we're anxiously looking forward to a repeat trip on a less crowded day.