The ups and downs of climbing Yosemite’s Half Dome

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“We have your location. Stay where you are and we’ll send someone out there,” the 9-1-1 operator advised me.

“OK, great,” I rasped.

The operator continued, “We’ll call you within an hour to let you know when the rangers will be on their way.”

“But my battery’s about to die,” I replied. No response. I checked my phone and realized the call had dropped. No signal. 6% battery life remaining. “Shit,” I said.

I slipped the phone into my fanny pack and sucked the last few drops out of my water bottle.

I had just spent the morning hiking to the top of Yosemite’s Half Dome, only to take a wrong turn on the way back down. Now I was lost and exhausted with no water, an almost dead phone, and only a few hours of daylight left.

I looked downhill. The trees were so densely packed together, I could barely tell where one ended and the next began. I looked uphill and saw a streak where I had slipped and slid on my butt down an almost vertical slope.

If I stayed where I was, even if my battery was still working, I might not have a strong enough signal to receive a call back. If I moved, the park rangers would have the wrong coordinates. I took the operator’s advice and stayed put.

I activated my phone screen. 4%. What the hell?

The sun began to disappear.

My dry throat made it hard to swallow. I pulled a hard candy out of my pack and let it dissolve in my mouth so I could salivate. It helped but not much.

I checked my phone again. 2%.

I sat on the ground and leaned my back against a huge log, then took some deep breaths. I just needed to be patient. Meditate. Be one with nature.

The sun soon disappeared and I could barely make out shapes in the moonlight. I was afraid food would attract wildlife, but I was also famished. With great care, I unwrapped and ate a snack bar, then stuffed the wrapper in my pack.

I checked my phone once more. It was dead.

I curled up on my side next to the log and used my pack as a pillow. Just as I was beginning to relax, I heard a rustling in the bushes nearby. I pressed my body against the log and tried to lie perfectly still. I waited.

This was not the adventure I planned for.

My Half Dome hike was supposed to be one of the highlights of my life. For the better part of a decade, I had fantasized about making that climb, but concerns about my physical and mental readiness had held me back from turning that fantasy into a reality.

Finally, in 2018, I vowed that would be the year I would make it happen. After multiple lottery entries, I won one of the limited, daily passes required to participate in the final stretch of the ascent. I recruited some friends and booked my lodging well in advance. I went on increasingly challenging hikes and hit the gym regularly. This not only helped me build endurance but also upper-body strength. I’d need this for the last part of the climb, where I would have to pull myself upward, hand over hand, using a metal cable anchored to the steep, slippery rock face. I watched videos of the journey, especially the cable portion. I purchased a Half Dome hiking guide book. I bought and tested all of the gear the book recommended. I even corresponded with the book’s author and got more advice.

I felt like I had done more work to plan for this trip than any prior event.

When the day of the climb came, I was ready. My friends and I woke up around 5 a.m., used our flashlights to help us locate the start of the trail, and began our ascent. My friends hadn’t acquired passes so they couldn’t accompany me the entire way. We parted ways with the expectation that I’d meet them back at our cabin that evening. For the next several hours, I was on my own.

I made it to the “sub dome,” the point where a ranger was stationed to check my pass, right on schedule. I still had enough water to make it up and down the cables, after which I planned to refill at a nearby stream I had read about in the guide book. When I got to the cables, I saw several groups of people sitting at the base. I learned that some of them had decided not to go any farther, but I couldn’t imagine coming this far only to stop just short of the top. I rested a few minutes to collect myself, then pushed ahead.

The cable climb might have been the most strenuous, sustained activity of my life, but I made it. When I got to the top, I walked around, taking in the panoramic view of the Yosemite Valley and pausing to wipe away the tears of joy that blurred my vision.

I probably spent a good twenty minutes up there, then descended the cables and used my new hiking poles to navigate the slippery rocks beneath.

Just beyond the base of the sub dome, my journey began to take a dark turn. I encountered another ranger who asked to see my pass. I asked her about the water source I had read about. She said she didn’t recommend it: there was barely a trickle of water there and it was filthy from human waste. I asked her where the next closest water source was. “About 3 miles down,” she replied. As if this wasn’t frustrating enough, I then noticed something tickling my leg. I reached into my pocket and discovered my phone had been vibrating for god-knows-how-long due to a timer that I had inadvertently set (hence the low battery).

I thanked the ranger for her advice, braced myself for 3 miles with a low water supply, and continued down a path that I later realized–too late–was not the actual trail.

Lost and found

Sometime during the night, I finally heard a voice calling my name. After over an hour of shouting back and forth, the same two rangers I had encountered earlier emerged from the dense woods below and came to my rescue. I was tired, thirsty, and frightened; but I was otherwise more or less OK. They gave me food, water, and electrolyte powder and contacted dispatch to inform my friends that I had been found. The rangers sat and chatted with me for about an hour while I regained my strength. Then, using their GPS to point the way, we hacked a path through the brush for close to two hours until we reached their campsite, where I crashed for the night.

The next morning, I thanked them and I completed my descent alone. It was a beautiful day, and I took my time. At one point as I was crossing a bridge that passed over a small stream, I saw a mountain lion cub down below. I was mesmerized, but I wasn’t afraid. We made eye contact for a moment. Then it leapt across the stream and we continued in opposite directions.

Each time I saw a person coming towards me, I said “hello.” Some of them returned the greeting. Some stared at me; they probably recognized the surge of emotion I was feeling.

Finally, I reached my cabin. I knocked on the door. A few seconds later, it opened and I saw my friend standing there. I gave him a weak smile fueled by a mixture of gratitude, relief, and shame.

Experience plus reflection . . .

I’m obviously a huge advocate for trying new things. But any time you venture into the unknown, you’re taking a risk. Here are some tips I can offer based on what I’ve learned.

Plan ahead. Although you can’t plan for everything, if you do your homework, you’ll feel more prepared and confident. This was my strongest area: by training my body, reading, watching video footage, getting expert advice, and gathering the right equipment, I felt ready to face the challenge.

Examine yourself. What are your weaknesses and how can you address them? I know I’m introverted; how can I overcome this so I’m able to ask other hikers if I can join their group for a while? I know I have a bad sense of direction; what could I have done to help prevent myself from getting disoriented? (For example, every once in a while, I could have turned around and taken a picture so I’d know what to look for on the way back.)

Be present. As I revealed in my previous post on ignoring my goals, I tend to focus too much on the destination and not enough on the journey. In this case, I was so intent on getting to the top–and then back to the bottom–that I was very rarely fully engaged in the present moment. Had I been more present, I might have paused to study my surroundings, made sure I was on the right path before I went too far, and noticed my vibrating phone sooner.

Celebrate the effort. When I reflect upon my Half Dome experience, I tend to focus more on what went wrong than on what I achieved. When I started writing this post, I intended to use my mistakes as a “learning experience” I could share with my readers. But that alone doesn’t do me justice. It took a lot of hard work, both before and during my hike, to complete it. I made it! And even though the overall trip didn’t go as planned, I’m proud of myself for doing it.

Have you ever attempted one of your big “bucket list” experiences, only to find it didn’t turn out as you’d hoped? What did you learn from that experience? 

Or if you have something left to do on your bucket list, what obstacles might you face in achieving it? What can you do to overcome those obstacles?