2000 Softbody Classic, Eichorn Pinnacle

But it did make logistics blissfully simple. Several years ago, Rock & Ice put out an article about six classic Sierra back country moderates. In this article was a picture of a dramatic needle of rock set against a deep blue lake in the background. "Wow," I thought. "Gotta do that one." The spire in question was Eichorn Pinnacle. The route described was a seven pitch 5.9 up the West Pillar. So when the SBC was discussed over Wednesday beer in August, I mentioned this. The only one definitely up for it was Annie.

Thus we found ourselves camped at the Lower Lee Vining on Friday, September 15. There was a light breeze and sparkling clear skies. We got up at about 6:30. Still cold and dark. Not made much better by the bottled Frappucino instead of hot coffee, but neither of us felt like messing with the stove half an hour earlier just to have hot coffee. So we somehow endured. In the end, it was the car heater that saved us. It was getting lighter, but was still cool as we began the approach from Tuolumne Meadows toward Cathedral Lake. On the trail, we wound steadily uphill through the woods until we could glimpse the Pinnacle through gaps. Then we simply beelined at it through the trees. Once we broke out of the forest, though, we found we had a slight problem.

It was howling. We hadn't even noticed hiking through the woods, but the wind had really picked up. We got to the base of the route at about 9:00. But it was west-facing, and thus still in the shade. Combined with the wind gusting to up to ~30mph, that was too cold for us, even though we'd brought GoreTex for such an eventuality. We decided to go around the southern corner into the sun, to wait out the wind and see what was happening on Cathedral Peak. We killed a couple of hours strolling around and watching the half dozen parties jockeying for position on the main route. We figured we could start at 11:00 and still get to the car before dark. It was right about 10:45 that the sun finally got a ray on our route. The wind hadn't abated at all, but it was now just warm enough, and we hadn't come all this way for nothing.

I had the dubious privilege of leading the first pitch. Few of us look forward to 5.9 offwidth, but this one was nicely bedecked with knobs, so relatively pleasant face techniques obviated all but a few of the arm bars. The next pitch was a 5.8 hand crack. You didn't get a look at it from the belay, however. One had to traverse out of sight to the right around a corner and pick it up there. Annie did this, and began moving up. But after a few minutes the rope stopped moving. Eventually, Annie yelled down that she didn't think she could lead it. I was shocked. Annie was capable of doing most 5.10s, and the info we had made no mention of nasty runouts or bad pro. I lowered her down. She said I'd just have to see it. So I took all the gear back and set off.

Around the corner, the crack went up to and around a small roof and into an alcove. The alcove was sort of a closing book at the top and somewhat overhanging. Above the overhang I could see a nice looking left facing hand crack. But in front of me was a rather strange crack. The alcove pinched into a dihedral that overhung mostly on the right side. Neither face offered much for stemming. The crack itself narrowed to fist then flared again on the inside. Above, a downward pointing spike bisected the crack into two nice looking jams. The trick would be the getting to them. It took me three up and down tries before I figured out the move and committed to it. I fist jammed with my right, palm up, wedged my right foot underneath, and pressed up, left foot dangling uselessly. The move felt harder than anything on the previous pitch, and indeed, perhaps the whole climb. I could see why Annie had had trouble. To her, that was an off-width, requiring both of her little hands to jam it. What I had done wouldn't work for her. In the end, no one but Annie will ever know how she got up it on the follow. Ironically, she gave up at first, sticking a #4 camalot in the fist crack in an attempt to french free it. I couldn't see this. I just heard the scream when the camalot came out. So she went back to the idea of freeing it. In the end, she "somehow scurried up it." Try buying her a pint for details.

The route is sustained. The hand crack was balancey because it faced left so hard, but very pleasant. Only 1 ½ pitches of class 3 and 4. The last technical pitch involves big stemming between two flakes -- . imagine two Traitor Horns six feet apart from each other and you've got the idea -- and is the secondary crux. The more so if you're short, but neither of us are, so no problem. The wind continued to howl. At one point, while following, I had big footholds from which to clean a camalot. When I casually began removing it with both hands and putting it on a harness loop, a gust nearly got blew me over backward. The view, of course, is similar to that of Cathedral Peak. Which is to say, stunning. Probably the most beautiful view I've seen. Tuolumne all around. We spotted Half Dome in the distance. Watched the wind sheeting across Cathedral Lake. There is a summit register, but we couldn't sign it: the pen was bone dry. Peak baggers wanting posterity are advised to bring their own writing instrument. One easy rap, and then all we had to do was zigzag down the slabs to the north to get back to our packs.

We stumbled upon a family of grouse on the way back. Got within a few feet of them. National Park critters are fun like that, because they haven't been shot at. So they're relatively approachable. In any case, we got back to the car right at dusk. No epics!

I highly recommend the route. The approach and descent are pretty benign. It is clean and sustained, and offers quite a variety of moves and decent exposure. And the view is incomparable.

Hopefully, more of you will show up next year.

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