Realizing we were now experienced backpackers packing at midnight while siping on fancy whiskey was no big task. The packs were seemingly weightless this time, ditching all rain gear and tent fly, compass, shovel, food was easy...a variety of bars, and the infamous bear box went out the window weeks ago, Ralph suddenly had a huge home in the center of our flappy packs. Forcast said sunny and cold, but we had hiked the JMT, we knew it all. And off we went.
As we walked through the meeting place of international travelers at the trailhead junction in Happy Isles, Ralph got some funny and not so funny stares from the day hikers wandering around in flip flops snapping those all too picturesque monumental sweaty vacation memories. Confused why he was not loved by strangers like weeks ago, we didn't dare break the reality that his stuffed fluff with cute ears is only a living creation of a wild imagination. But as the day hikers dwindled and the Trekkers packs filled backs with more serious loads, and once again Ralph was greeted with friendly hellos. We hit mile 4.5 at 6,000ft and blue skys turn to ugly grey, not that grey is ugly unless you are under it raingearless, and then... It starts to snow. The flaky white tiny cotton balls fell from the sky and suddenly a blogable story needed, once again, to be told.
Thoughtlessness came after stupidity hit. Stupidity that our pro hiking trio had decided to ditch the necessities of backpacking to achieve the lightest packs in the backcountry, thinking experience can stop snow storms. Thoughtlessness had to be brushed aside, a plan was needed before drenched with melting snowflakes, we would end our trip in a long cold night hike back down and a very long caffeine filled dark car ride home.
Had I never been happier this touristy place, deviod of technological abilities a few miles down, was equipped with the most lovely shelter of a composting toilet. Thoughtless faded as the reality of standing in an outhouse in a snowstorm, in shorts, all became way too much of a laughing matter. The fact was, we had to end our lovely trip we had excitingly awaited. Without any proper gear, we would be doomed to become Popsicles in the night. But as we finished our snack to fuel our blood against the cold, repacked our limp light gear and prepared for a wet cold hike back down, blue was spotted like a Dalmatian in the high distance of a sky, and hope was revived. Patiently waiting, we ended our day pitching tent, and planned for a very very cold night that even the finest sheep wools, duck feathers, fanciest fleece, and layers of socks couldn't keep the warmth in. But it very much beat an over caffeined car ride home in defeat.
Half Dome is one of those life long to do list things for a handful of Californians and foreigners abroad. And everyone that should and shouldn't be attempting it is. The view is spectacular, but the climb up a bit grueling. After a 5000ft, 9 mile hike, standing at the base of the dome it is a 400ft climb, up two wired cables, to the top. These cables are sturdy, but with any warblely arms or legs, one wrong slip and just hope you have lived the life you wanted. Stomachs rise to throats in any creature fearful of heights, and blood rushes from head to who knows where. The sight of this climb questions the decisions of our society...let citizens of all ages shapes and sizes clinge for dear life off the back side of Half Dome, but make it illegal for any of them to drink raw milk, indulge of substances of their choice, or drive cars over 75mph.
Leaving that political agruement at that, we happily stood on the top of Half Dome, descended down without a bear in sight, indulged in carrot cake cliff bars, and in a mere 24 hours returned to society a tad bit smarter.
