Mt Agassiz (Aug 4-5, 2024)
14mi, +4,350’
Class 2 / 3 Scramble
Trailhead: 9,750’ / Summit: 13,899’
It’s 10 AM, and I’m stuck in a bad spot about 13,000’ above sea level. I’ve got about another 1,000’ to go but am about to call it quits.
What did I get myself into?
Planning our Adventure
It started a month ago when I was frustrated with the Whitney permit process and started getting restless watching peak climbing season pass by.
I proposed doing something adventurous at elevation with a bit of scrambling since neither Whitney nor Shasta offer that.
We settled on Mt Agassiz (13,899’), a peak near Bishop and Mammoth Lakes in the Eastern Sierras.
Unlike the well-maintained trail up Whitney, many Sierra peaks involve a strenuous hike to the base (‘approach’) before using any means necessary to reach the top.
Mt Agassiz (13,899’) is a relatively tame peak compared to its neighbors, but it’s still a 5.5mi hike to the base + hours of scrambling.
It doesn’t sound *that* hard on paper, but in reality, the scramble was sketchier than advertised at times and difficult to route-find. Combined with the sky-high altitude, I was pushed to my physical (and mental) limit.
Driving to the Eastern Sierras (Saturday)
Cothron picked me up last Saturday and drove us out to the Eastern Sierras. The road-trip took us through Yosemite over Tioga Pass.
Neither of us have driven up Tioga Pass before. The scenery was jaw-droppingly beautiful near Olmstead Point.
Once we reached Tioga Pass, we took a break to stretch out our legs. Compared to temps in the 100s while we were cruising through the Central Valley, 61F felt downright chilly.
To acclimatize, we went partly up Mt. Dana, a 13er near Tioga Pass. We both felt great and well ahead of how we did last year at altitude.
After grabbing a quick bite in Mammoth Lakes, we arrived in Bishop, a high desert town.
The motel was barebones basic. $130 for this?!
10:30 PM: Lights out.
To train for altitude, I’ve been trail running up hills for a year and have a few taller peaks under my belt, but will it be enough? There’s no point worrying about it. I’ve done all I can.
The Adventure Begins (Sunday Morning)
3:30 AM: We wake up and prepare for the hike.
4:15 AM: We drive up from Bishop to the trailhead, gaining almost 6,000’ over half an hour.
5:00 AM: After donning headlamps, we’re off!
While this sounds early, the lot was nearly full, and the sky was just beginning to lighten.
The trail starts at South Lake (9,750’) and makes its way up to Bishop Pass (~11,972’’). We then branch off to the base of Mt. Agassiz and scramble up about 2000’ over 0.6mi. (That’s roughly 5x as steep as Mission Peak’s main trail)
There’s something magical about hiking before dawn. The air is a crisp 49F, and there’s nary a sound except for crickets and our footsteps.
The trail isn’t steep, but due to the high starting altitude, it feels about right.
6:00 AM (elev 10,750’): We’re treated to a postcard-worthy view of Long Lake. That reflection!
6:45 AM: It’s becoming rocky and barren. My heartrate is ticking up to jog territory (150-160 bpm), but I’m not concerned yet.
Stream crossings are well-maintained.
In the distance is Bishop Pass and Mt Agassiz. Our first goal is to reach the pass.
7:20 AM (elev 11,400’): 4.5 miles in, we start climbing up to the pass. The trail’s stairs are carved into rock like the Mist Trail.
My heart’s beating hard as if I were running (170 bpm), so I slow down and start to fall behind.
Cothron remarks that it’s more important that our heart rates fall quickly at rest rather than worry about what they’re at while we’re moving. I agree, and the training I’ve done has helped immensely here.
Up until now, we’ve been in shade, but the sun is starting to poke out.
At the top, we dodge a snow field that’s icy rather than soft. The stream in front of it is frozen on top!
8:00 AM (elev 11,972’): We reach the pass. Right on schedule!
8:15 AM: We descend slightly to the base of Mt Agassiz. A big rock signals the start of the climb.
As with all cross-country routes, there’s no trail. You have to figure this out on your own.
We discuss our route with another climber and agree to start on the left near the snow, cut back right and arc back around to the summit.
With a mountain like this, picking the “wrong” way will get you into trouble as we’d later find out.
8:25 AM: I put on my climbing helmet and begin climbing after Cothron to avoid accidental rocks in my face.
At first, it’s pretty straightforward.
But it doesn’t take long for me to sense trouble.
The rocks, even the bigger ones, are randomly loose. I can’t boulder hop up like I have in the past.
My heart’s pounding as if I were sprinting (180 bpm), so I pause to let it come down. At least I’ve got no headaches… yet. I lean on all fours to catch my breath.
Cothron’s pulling ahead. We wave to each other to check in.
9:10 AM (elev: 12,600’): 45 minutes in, I’m about a third of the way up. The sun’s beginning to poke out.
I glance to the side. Fuck, this is really steep.
9:45 AM (elev: 13,000’): Halfway up, I run into trouble.
I look up and… this is bad. Really bad. It’s climbable, but it’s not what I was expecting from the “easy” route. (I took this pic from above later on to show what I would be in for.)
I check AllTrails and realize that I’m off-route. I have to backtrack down to rejoin the route but…
Now I realize that I’m fucked. There’s no way I can cross over to the intended route (there’s a 8-9 foot drop to that chute)… one wrong move, and I’d be sliding down the mountain.
I could backtrack a lot further, but the sun’s out, and I’m running behind schedule.
There’s a way up… by hoisting myself up a wall that’s a few times my height. Not as bad as the other one, but it’s at the edge of my comfort zone.
My heart’s pounding, and I’m thinking about bailing. A scene from Yama no Susume flashes by, that of a dejected Aoi making a call home after she fails her summit of Mt Fuji.
Maybe I’m not cut for this outdoor stuff.
Why am I out here doing these really hard things? What am I trying to accomplish?
I’ve had trouble seeing things completely through in life, but I’m not a dabbler. I put in the time and effort into each and every one of my interests whether it’s cooking, drawing, gardening or hiking.
They’re dear to me, but it frustrates me to no end that I’ve never been able to *finish* something of note, particularly the cooking comic I’ve been iterating on for years.
I stare back towards the pass and…
I realize how far I’ve come on this climb and how quickly I’ve progressed since I got serious about adventuring outdoors.
I’ve spent a year training for peaks like this. Am I really going to give up halfway through?
NOT. TODAY.
10:45 AM (elev: 13,000’): I look again at that wall, scan for some holds and decide to go for it.
It never gets easier, but I gradually feel more comfortable with the steep bits and avoid anything exposed.
With each rock I climb, I repeat to myself: I’m not going to give up today.
I’m going to see this through, just like my cooking webcomic and dreams of publishing a real cookbook.
The mountain steepens the higher up I go, but by taking it one rock at a time, I make progress.
As I near the ridge, a climber coming down says that Cothron’s waiting for me at the top.
11:55 AM (elev: 13,700’): I make it to the ridge! But it’s not over yet…
Just a little more to go… My heart’s pounding both from the thin air and the anticipation..
Cothron’s cheering me on from above.
I have to stop every few stones now, but I’ve never been so driven to reach the top.
Just hold on a little more…
A little more…
12:05 PM (elev: 13,899’): I finally reach the summit!
Cothron gives me a high-five as he says “Way to fucking go!”
I couldn’t have said it better myself.
(I’m not going to doxx us, so here’s a cute approximation of it.)
(The granola bar puff test. It’s about to burst!)
After I sign the register, we take in the view together.
The view is beyond words. It honestly feels like I’m on a different planet up here.
(The beginnings of a glacial lake at the bottom?)
(I can see almost the entire hike in from the top plus all of the nearby peaks.)
12:35 PM: It’s time to head down, and we agree to meet up at the “big rock”, no matter how far behind I am.
Oof, even the larger stones are loose, and I lose my footing a few times. I won’t be able to walk this down. I wonder if trekking poles would have helped.
I descend by always maintaining 3 points of contact. Being safe is good, but this is going to take forever.
And the slow pace ends up being my undoing. Coming down is sapping as much energy as going up. I literally stop so much that AllTrails records my descent as a break (!).
3:30 PM: I run out of water because I didn’t anticipate spending 7 hours on the mountain. When I was at the top, I still had over half my water. Luckily, I’m close to the bottom.
It’s a reminder that the descent is half the battle, much more so in highly technical terrain like today’s.
3:45 PM: I finally reach the big rock at the base. Cothron purifies water for me at a glacial lake.
4:15 PM: We start heading back to the trailhead. The hardest part is behind us now, and I’m able to maintain a decent pace back to the car.
The scenery on the way down is astonishingly beautiful.
Bodies of water were crystal clear and reflective in the morning, but in the afternoon, they take on a lively, saturated look that feels unreal.
Even if you don’t climb mountains, I recommend hiking this trail to the pass (or just to the lakes). The scenery is the prettiest of all hikes I’ve done in my life so far.
Beautiful weather. No mosquitos. No permits.
I hear that the fall colors in this area are to die for. Maybe I’ll be back some day.
6:45 PM: Back at the trailhead, it feels like an eternity since we set out that morning. Because it was a relative eternity - almost 14 hours.
As we drive down to Bishop and back to San Jose, the mountains leave one final gesture for us. What an adventure this was.
Afterword
On the drive back, and in the following days, I’ve reflected on both the ups and downs of this adventure.
It’s said that the mountains make us more honest. They strip you bare and make you face the truth. There’s no bullshitting. Either you make it up or you don’t.
Climbing Mt Agassiz was a humbling experience. It tested me to my physical and mental limits and was the closest I’ve ever come to failing on the trail.
Although I’m past my prime age-wise, I’m physically in the best shape of my life. After diligently training for a year and (relatively) breezing past other high peaks and grueling hikes, today’s struggles came as a shock to me.
But… there’s much more to climbing mountains than just reaching the top.
Why am I out here at all?
All of us who adventure outdoors have different reasons for getting into it.
The scenery? The camaraderie? To challenge ourselves physically (and mentally)? Bragging rights?
I didn’t have an answer to this last year, but after this experience, I think I do.
I climb mountains because they teach valuable lessons I apply back to real life.
In a broader sense, the mountains have helped me understand myself better.
Each trip to the mountains is like a conversation with a friend. And with each conversation, that bond deepens.
I’m still recovering and need to make a few adjustments for my own safety and health, but I’m not giving up and plan to continue adventuring this year.
