Mt. Humphreys East Arete

Mt. Humphreys East Artete 

When I drove into the Eastern Sierra for the summer it was from the town of Bishop that I saw Mt. Humphreys for the first time. It stands marvelously high above the valley and is the center of the beautiful sierra skyline that one can see from town.

My goals when I first arrived to Bishop were compromised of moderate alpine routes and multi pitch trad lines around town. I had glanced over Humphreys in my guide book a few times but I think the overall complexity of it deterred me from  even considering to look into it. I even had a climbing partner this summer who had told me about her experience on it. We were sitting on top of Mt. Emerson and she pointed out to me Mt. Humphreys. Its wild and complex south face was looking right at us, and we could even see the east arete slightly. It was like looking at a giant maze and trying to decipher its corridors. It looked big, and it was intimidating. I think what I took away most from her account was "the worst descent I've ever done in my life." 

Cant climb that this summer, I thought. Its initial complexity and size at the root of my negative thoughts. But I kept on looking at it from town, its beauty and proximity, being in the center of the skyline, it called to me like a siren. Something unattainable. I continued to climb around town ticking off easy routes in Pine Creek, and around Bishop Pass. And each night as I laid in bed looking over my guide book to the high Sierra, I kept flipping past Mt. Humphreys, noticing new things about it each time. 

Shortly after climbing Mt. Emerson I flew back to Montana for a week to attend my friends wedding. Some time away from the Sierra brought me back to the life I had felt comfortable living. My same friends, the same mountains. I was at home and it was almost hard to believe that I was even in California prior to this week. But towards the end of my trip, my girlfriend at the time and I broke up and I found myself returning to California with an altered mindset on my life and the purpose of climbing mountains. I questioned what I was even doing in the Sierra in the first place.

The Eastern Sierra desert was hot when I got back, and I spent my free time inside the climbing gym. The gal who I was climbing with prior to going back to MT was in Canada now and I was searching for climbing partners via facebook groups with no luck. 

I was driving back to Big Pine one afternoon when I hit a stop light. From out my windshield Mt. Humphreys was looking down on me, and I was remembering what it looked like from Mt. Emerson. Its wicked tangle of cracks, aretes and ridges all seemed to spiral into a big web in my mind, a door that I was scared to knock on. 

That night I was looking through the guidebook and flipped to that page again. "Mt. Humphreys East Arete 5.5." This time I read the page carefully. A line that caught my attention read, 

"With almost a mile of climbing along an exposed ridge this technically easy route requires great route finding skills and mental focus for an extended period of time."  

When I read this it intrigued me into the route more so than I had felt before, and reading the route topo it all of a sudden began to click. Maybe I could climb this thing this summer. Maybe this would be what I needed to get outside of the gym, and get outside of my head. Thoughts of the breakup seemed to be all that consumed my mind at the time and I felt I needed something to bring me back to life again and back to the mountains. I mean that was the whole reason I was there in the first place, to explore the High Sierra and spend as much time in the mountains as I could. I needed to quit feeling down and chin up. I decided it was time to knock on that door. 

"If you really wanna know yourself, it'll come at the price of knowing no one else." -Will Toledo, Cosmic Hero

It wasn't easy to get to where I was camped. I drove my truck up one of the gnarliest roads I've ever been on and it took me the good part of 2 hours just to drive 10 or so miles. When I got there I started to build the rack I would take. I grabbed a small set of stoppers, a cam or 2 and some webbing I bought earlier that day. The route topo included a section of 5.7 down climbing which I decided would be best to rappel, so I threw in a 30m (or so) rope as well. 

That night, while listening to Carseat Headrest, I read over the beta and tried to pull myself out of my head and find that psych I used to feel for the mountains. I snapped a couple photos of the route topo and the descent beta, then turned away to try and get some sleep. 

The mornings alarm began screaming at 3:30, and under a bright moon I began walking up the road. Loud music kept my thoughts from drifting into fabricated scenes about encountering mountain lions or ghost's, and kept me from dwelling on the past. 

Alpine Glow 

Alpine Glow

I reached the lake right as the sun was rising and the peaks around me were illuminated with a gorgeous pink alpine glow. Deep Breaths. Keep moving. The trudging up loose sand was hard but I eventually made it to the notch that marks the start of the route. 

I knocked, and the door opened. What I could see through it was an improbable and intimidating ridge, long and steep looking. Thats 3rd class? I wondered. Shit. All you can do is try. 

I assessed what was ahead of me, picked a line, turned up my music, then stepped through that door. The going on the lower portion of the ridge was great. Cruiser 3rd class with just enough exposure on either side to keep me honest. Once past the lower portion I came to the stunning "Knife Edge" that is one of the most beautiful features of the route. I looked off to either side, took a breath, then tiptoed my way along the tip of the ridge. Like a walking a tight rope, I took it slow, and steady.  Once on the other side I looked back and laughed, took a photo, then proceeded upwards. 

The Knife Edge 

From the knife edge the terrain mellowed out and I cruised upwards past the orange colored sub peak and on to an exposed 5th class ridge that had an improbably placed boulder directly on top of it. Here I assessed what was ahead and decided that I would take the trail runners off and put on rock shoes. I began to feel nervous here, the exposure, the complexity of what laid ahead and the fact that I had so much to go all started to intrude my thoughts. Then as I was tying up my laces the song I was listening to ended and and new one started. 

The opening guitar riff was loud in my ear and I knew the song from the first note. This sparked excitement in me. All right, I said. Here we go. I began traversing along and down the exposed ridge, one foot, one breath after the other. 

"I don't like no one, well, except for you. You're my only friend, you don't even like me. Your My only friend, you don't even like me." My Pal, by GOD. 

These lyrics carried me down the rest of the exposed ridge and all the way to the 5.7 down climb, where I found a rap station and set up a rappel. It was short and sweet and brought me to a little alcove in the ridge where I began questing up again. Climbing up and over another little sup peak feature and and then going down again until I landed at another rappel station. 

The first rap

This second rap brought me to the mouth of the descent gully. All morning I had been telling my self that I just needed to get to the descent gully because from there I could bail if I wanted to. So I stood there for a minute, pondering. From here was where things were going to get more exciting, more serious. All you can do is try. I told myself. 

I marked the descent gully location on my map and continued up the route, picking my way around big blocks and boulders that formed the ridge line. This section went smoothly and brought me to a steep wall that didn't appear to have any easy way up it. I remembered reading about this in the book. The way around this section is to traverse left and around the corner on a small sandy ledge. Looking around I found that ledge. 

Creeping around the small corner on the little ledge I came to see a hand crack that went up for about 50 or so feet and up onto what appeared to be a higher ledge. I looked at the crack then looked down. Yeesh. What laid beneath the hand crack was the east face of Humphreys and about 1000ft of exposure. No, I said, that cant be it. 

I traversed back around and to that same wall, looking for a way up. I even climbed as high up as I could however was unable to find anything. This way definitely doesn't make sense. I knew which way I needed to go. I walked back around that little sandy ledge and looked up the hand crack. Deep breaths. Switch to rock shoes. Relax. 

With a racing heart I slipped my hand high above me into the crack. Took a breath and lifted off. One hand, then the other. Move my feet. Repeat. This feature of the route was truly beautiful. I had music music in my ear but I wasn't listening. I had 1000ft of air below me but I didn't notice. All that mattered was the movement of my self up that crack. Towards the end I was wishing that the crack would go on forever but before I knew it, I was standing on the high ledge looking down. 

Exposed and delicate ridge walking, straddling and wrestling followed and I kept the rock shoes on for this part. I stayed on the ridge proper as best as I could until I came to a boulder and moved out left around it. 

At this point I reached a big open face high on the upper part of the mountain. There was a big patch of snow up there too and I could see peoples foot prints in it. For some reason, this gave me relief and motivation. It was like seeing a sign of life in a completely wild place. A reminder that although this was new for me, lots of people had been here before me. I followed the prints up the face and made my way to another headwall. Rock shoes back on. 

Looking towards the final headwall 

This next wall seemed like it had lots of options, so I looked for a while at it, then decided to take a line out left I had seen. It definitely was low 5th class climbing and although there wasn't serious exposure, a fall would still be bad. The climbing here was excellent too. Great face climbing and hand jamming brought me to yet another ledge and ridge. 

I continued to follow this ridge until it just stopped. Oh. This must be it. It was 9:30am, and I was standing on top of Mt. Humphreys. 

All around me was gorgeous lakes and mountains as far as the eye could see. I turned around and could see town way down in the valley. I felt elated. What a climb! Near my feet I found a little metal cylinder that contained the summit registers in it. I grabbed the newest looking one and saw that people had climbed the East Arete just 2 days before I did. 

From the top of Humphreys 

Looking out into the Sierra

Although I was excited to be on top I was feeling nervous about the descent. There was a lot of 5th class that I knew I needed to be really focused for on the descent. Not to mention at least 2 rappels. 

I had to do one rappel down the wall I had just climbed up and then from there was able to walk back down the face with the snow patch and to where the ridge got exposed again. Down climbing this was exciting. 

One more rappel got me off the higher ledge that was above the awesome hand crack and the rope I brought barley just made it to the ground. After this last rap it was smooth sailing and I made it back to the mouth of the descent gully and started the LONG descent down the sand chute. 

The stunning Checkered Demon 

After some nonsense and poor route finding, I made it back to the lake where I promptly jumped in for a swim. I hung out in that field for a little bit looking back up at the mountain. It was funny to me how this daunting this route seemed to me just a couple weeks prior. Not to say it was easy because it wasn't. But I think that I will often times fear something that I know little about. That maze of chutes and ridge lines and crags I was looking at from Mt. Emerson was terrifying and thats only because I didn't know where to look.  

I felt happy walking back down the road to my truck. This was the reason I was in the Sierra after all, to challenge myself and explore a new mountain range.