The goal for 2018 was to stop swearing. I had gotten a lot
better, made significant improvements, and was happy with that. I progressed as
far as I had because every swear word costs me a $5 donation to a charity. My
Half Dome hike cost me a $50 donation to Yosemite Conservancy though.
This hike was my proudest trekking accomplishment so far. It
was the most significant physical challenge I’ve experienced to date, and it
was a 13-hour undertaking much of which was spent so far beyond my comfort zone.
As with any adventure like this one, I had a few key takeaways.
In life and on a hike, it’s simply not possible to catch up with others when you’re on completely separate trails.
Our group of 5 girls got separated for 3 hours of our ascent, and both groups
couldn’t find the other. The two separate groups were trying to catch up with
the other, moving at fast paces, calling out, trying to call the others’ cell
phones, and going through every scenario of what could be happening or how we
would resolve it. Reflecting on the day lead me to realize how often we try so
hard to get on the same page with someone or we can’t understand them, but
maybe we’re on completely different paths.
On the day we hiked, I was having an off day; I had a tough time catching my breath most of the second half up. I’ve gone through all of the different reasons why this ascent was so hard for me. The best reason I’ve come up with was that I was so stressed about having an issue with my knee on the hike that that worry messed with me on a toxic level. That compounded with the stress of the group being separated and wondering if my friends had actually fallen down a waterfall. When you have days like that, or when you’re so exhausted (mentally or physically), the answer is more than just taking it one step at a time. It’s vital to switch up your stance or perspective –
go sideways, backwards, run instead of walk, etc. On a hike like Half Dome, you
also use all the tools in your belt. When your quads get tired, you’ll use
those hamstrings. When your legs exhaust, put those arms to use. The synergy of
your body, just like your team, can help you get that WIN.
When you look at Half Dome from afar, it’s easy to make a
judgement on how that hike would be. In fact, it’s easy to decide and adjust
those judgements while you’re on the hike, when you’re part way up, getting
closer to the dome and starting to catch glimpses from closer than anywhere
else in the park. Then you get to the sub-dome, and you have the switchbacks
and granite scramble (my favorite part of the hike), and you wipe out what you
think is the last of your energy. Then, you get to the base of the dome – you
see it more intimately than most people do. Any judgement you made up to this
point vanishes.
This sense of wonder envelops you. Maybe it’s fear, maybe
it’s excitement, maybe it’s a combination. We try to make up our mind about
what it will be like by looking at HD from Tunnel View, or from the videos we
watched beforehand. None of that matters until you start making your way up
those last 400 feet. Gripping on to cables bolted into the granite, walking
along the path slick from people walking on the same 2-foot-wide path, and
maneuvering your way past descending hikers on the same path. Having to pull
yourself up by your arms on the most vertical portions. Wondering if you can do
this, since the 6.5 hours up to that point – 8400 feet above sea level – took
all your wind. Educating yourself on a hike like this beforehand is a wise
move. Reserve the judgement until you’ve done it though. It’s useless to judge that big chunk of granite until you’re gripping
its edges and are literally handing over any control you thought you had.
Making your way down the cables on the dome is more daunting
than going up. That’s the case for me because I fell. If I hadn’t stopped the
fall, I would be a cute puddle somewhere at the valley floor. At the most vertical
portion of the cables, I lost my grip – on the cables and my footing – and was
free falling down Half Dome for a few seconds. I don’t think I even swore in
that time period, but I’ve never felt panic like that before. I torqued my legs
to try to shimmy my foot into a divot, and I put my arm out to bash into the
pole cemented in the granite. Those two moves stopped my fall, and I had the
bruise on my arm to prove it. How do you keep going after something like that though?
One of the girls in my group had pranced down already, and the rest of the
group was further behind me. I had no friends to boost me up and encourage me
to take that next step. My heart was just about beating out of my chest, and
all I could do was look down and realize I wasn’t done with this part yet. I
wasn’t calling a helicopter, so I could only keep going – forward was the only
option. I had to put the fear and worry
aside and just move ahead with calculated steps. There’s a chance that I
kissed the granite floor of the sub-dome when I got down those cables. I looked
back and was prouder of myself than ever before, then continued with the descent
with my girls in a much faster and easier 4.5 hours.
Half Dome was magnificent. It makes sense why it has been
described as “perfectly inaccessible” and why people have perished hiking it.
I’m very proud of me and my girls for successfully completing it. I learned
some valuable lessons on that long hike. My bruises are gone and my muscles are
no longer sore, but the memories and feelings from that day still wisp through
my mind’s eyes. Although I tipped my swear jar more than I would have liked,
I’m glad that it was a worthy opponent that made me slip (pun intended).
