Posted on SGMDF:
Hey gang! What a glorious weekend to be in the hills, eh?! I tossed all my gear in the Maxima, headed up north 395 way to the Whitney portal area after work on Thursday. My goal - shuffle up the Meysan Lake trail and climb Mallory, Irvine, and McAdie. Did I get all three? No. Did I almost die? Yes.
The trailhead for Meysan is before you get to the portal, stuffed between some of those summer cabins near the campground. Looks like this from the beginning:
I hit the trail at 6 am after sleeping in my car at the portal, and twas a beautiful morning to be all alone in the Sierras. The portal was full of cars (MR I'm assuming), but I didn't see a soul on my route.
Get outta here, Moon
Looking back towards Lone Pine
The trail without snow tends to stick to the northwest side of Meysan creek, and after the switchbacks were buried I continued along that way, not crossing the creek until farther up the valley. The snow was fairly consolidated - although I think I would have had slightly firmer conditions in the massive shade afforded by the mountains across the way on the southeast side of the creek. I got there eventually after I filled up the bottles at an exposed portion of the creek.
I continued up past several little lakes, although they weren't all easy to spot due to snow/ice coverage. As the sun heated things up, the snow stayed firm, but I was sweating like a champion.
Heading up to Meysan Lake
I arrived 7 hours later at 11,550 feet, above frozen Meysan Lake with a killer view of the East Buttress of Irvine and Mt. Mallory. I couldn't see McAdie, but I knew she was out there. I dug a nice big ledge in the snow for my tent, set up camp, and took a nap for an hour or so. The day was young.
Loving the new helmet ( which doesn't quite fit under my hood )
My routes for the following day, up the East Slopes on the left, down the East Chute on the right
Buttress in your FACE!
Watch out for CO
Weather started rolling in that early evening, with a lot of clouds and this very fine snow or sleet almost. Windy as hell, and although my tent shook, I got some much needed ZZZ for the 315am wake-up call. Summit pack on ( 2 liters of water, MSR reactor, down jacket, a little food, 2 axes ) I headed across the gap to the base of the East Slopes. I heard some really bizarre animal noises as I left the tent, so I would bang my axes together every so often, hoping that this animal wasn't too fond of robots or other metallic dudes. It must have worked, I came out of the ordeal with little/no animal attacks.
The slope heading up to the plateau just south of Mallory was fairly steep, and climbing it in the dark was a treat.
With flash looking down
Sans flash
I love the steepness
From the plateau - Mallory is in my sights. Visibility starting to get worse
Getting closer to summit ( approach from the south )
As I got closer to the top, I discovered two things: there are several rocks that you think are the highest point, but aren't. Also, there are several nice cliffs to go flying off. I started getting a little creeped out as I approached the top along the ridge and had to mind the huge drops on the southwestern side. The other side wasn't as bad, so I focused my lookin-balls to the right mostly.
Summit? Wrong
Long way down
I signed the register a little over 4 hours after I left camp - The last person to sign was in August of either last year or 2009, I can't recall. Probably 2010, I wasn't focusing too much on the register...too worried about the wind tossing me off the block.
Sign it
Bluebird conditions on Mallory summit
This next part of the story I'm not too proud of. I've already decided to wise up when it comes to my safety (self to self pep talk today) - we can say this was my one last hurrah before I reign myself in.
I wanted to climb Irvine from Mallory, traverse over somehow along the ridge or across the bowl between the two after a downclimb. I thought I had read there was a reasonable downclimb from Mallory towards the ridge that divides the two, but I couldn't see it. Conditions were getting worse, and everywhere I looked was a cliff. I spotted a way down on the North side of Mallory, towards the bowl, so I made my way slowly from the summit onto the face. From where I was, I thought I could see a decent path down some narrow snow chutes and class 3 rocks. In the back of my mind, I thought "hey, but you can't see all the way down...who knows what's below that?" I continued on anyway, telling myself I'll just climb back up if I can't climb down.
The problem with that method is that I'm an idiot. As I made my way down and across, the snow sections became steeper and more loose. I was heading down a chute filled with boulders, 55-60 degree snow, and decomposed granite. I was routinely popping boulders loose with my feet, listening to them crash down the mountain. I knew it was bad when I'd only hear a couple bounces with long pauses between them. In addition, a few times when I would drop, it would be a bit of a hanging drop, so once I was down, getting up probably wasn't happening. I alternated sticking my axes like swords between my back and my pack so my hands were free, and using both axes as canes in the steep but somewhat packed snow.
Each section I'd finish was followed by another section I couldn't see from above, and I'd have to pick the way I thought I'd be least likely to die on. I'd done about 200 feet of this, and the smooth white slant of the snow slope seemed so close. That's when I came to the crux. This portion was about 15-20 vertical feet of downward sloping snow-covered rocks - granite blocks stacked together with very thin vertical cracks between them, but no decent handholds, even with my thin gloves. Below that was another 15-20 feet of jagged rocks. I knew a fall meant at minimum a broken bone, which would lead to death, or maybe I'd split my dome or break my neck and it would be quick. ORRRRRR, I'd figure out that I could jam the picks of my ice axes in those vertical thin cracks and climb down using 95% arms.
So that's what I did - umbilical system hooked to a webbing harness I whipped up, I'd place one axe in a crack, lower myself on that arm with my feet flailing or hanging, and find another crack a foot or two lower to place my other axe. I almost left one axe at camp to save weight. I think I would have been toast. I'd weight the lower axe, holding myself up with one arm, and wiggle the top axe free. At one point, I got a small ledge covered in snow to place my feet, so I took this picture. This was an amazing feeling to get out of this spot.
Never again
I found a steep little chute heading east that spit me out on the main slope heading into the bowl, and I was smiling so big. I hurried down to about 13,200 or so, and made a beeline for the summit of Irvine.
Looking back at my route down Mallory.
Irvine was a cakewalk from that side, and although I couldn't see much, it was so nice to make it to the top. The last person to sign that register was October 2010. Summit at 11:30am.
McAdie (southern peak) and Arc pass behind me
I looked over towards McAdie, and it looked evil. I had already scared myself to death enough for that trip, so I decided to wrap up my climb with Irvine and head back. I don't know that I'm ready for a winter-crappy-weather-McAdie-summit, so I head back down the way I came but crossed the bowl towards the East chute this time.
Approaching the top of East chute from the bowl
Heading down the chute towards camp
I was back at camp by 12:45pm, so I'm thinking I would have had time to get to McAdie if I'd had the spirit. I'm pretty sure I made the right call, I don't think I've got enough winter miles under my belt to be trying some of this crap, a rope might even be needed depending on conditions over there. Who knows? I took another short nap, made some grub (mountain house lasagna is SO GOOD), and did a lot of thinking and a little prep work for the exit the next morning.
View from my tent
The wind was even worse the 2nd night. It would be calm one second, and then you'd hear the mountain winding up another dose way up high. It would roar down some chute and pour over my tent like an avalanche. Rinse repeat for the majority of the night. I hit the snooze on my alarm, but was up and packed by 6am on Sunday. The moon was out and looking fresh, it amazes me how cold (20ish degrees) and beautiful things are up at elevation.
Good morning
It only took me 2 1/2 hours to get back to the car, with a couple stops for rest and nature-appreciation. I felt so lucky to have made it out there, enjoyed the solitude, and survived my poor judgement.
Trail popping out here and there
Looking back up
Mustache and four beard hairs give me strength
Happy ending and gear-reviews:
Ran into a family (husband, wife, daughter, old dog) walking up the portal road in the sun, probably about 7300 feet or so. They had to leave their camper at the bottom and wanted to see the portal...hope to climb it with their daughter on her birthday in the next couple years ( she might be 11 now, not sure). I stuck all my gear in the trunk, and took them back up. We explored around the waterfalls and surrounding trails, seemed like they had a blast. The karma for taking them up must have worked, as my radiator didn't completely explode on the 5.5 hour drive home.
Gear Picked up the Petzl Meteor III on sale. Great for large heads, weighs nothing. The only downside I can see is that it's very fragile, one shot and you're buying a new one. I'm told the non-foam types can take a lot more abuse before you have to replace them, but they're heavier and I couldn't find one to fit my noggin.
Bear Vault 450. Held everything I needed and more for this trip, and fit fairly easy in my back. People gripe about the lid being tough to open, when it's cold you have to use a knife or your ice-axe pick or your crampon point or a small rock - it isn't that tough when anything hard with a small edge. If it's that cold, you probably have your axe, right? Right.
Icebreaker 200 weight shirt. I'm in love.