Tuolumne & Some Hot Springs
As usual, Kat and I had big objectives. This weekend in particular it was to head to Tuolumne and climb some big alpine route. I believe this weekend it might have been Mathes Crest. Loren got wind and wanted in. Needing a fourth we recruited Wells. The group ranks swelled and the objectives contracted but we still ended up having a great weekend. We cragged at Olmsted and Murphy's Creek, ate some delicious Mobil Mart cooking and almost had to hog-tie a naked Crowley Crew tweaker at 2am while bivied at Old Shepard's Hot Spring. Exciting Times.
We left the Bay Area on Friday night, made the usually stop-over in Oakdale, and ended up in Tuolumne Meadows. The only problem was we didn't have a campsite and the rangers weren't feeling particularly lenient toward poachers that night. After being followed around for twenty minutes at TM by a ranger, we wisely jumped back on 120, and headed east towards Sawmill Campground. With all spots full and our heads calling for a pillow and our bodies a sleeping bag, we made our way back to Saddlebag Lake and bivied out in the open a 5 minute hike from the parking lot.
We left the Bay Area on Friday night, made the usually stop-over in Oakdale, and ended up in Tuolumne Meadows. The only problem was we didn't have a campsite and the rangers weren't feeling particularly lenient toward poachers that night. After being followed around for twenty minutes at TM by a ranger, we wisely jumped back on 120, and headed east towards Sawmill Campground. With all spots full and our heads calling for a pillow and our bodies a sleeping bag, we made our way back to Saddlebag Lake and bivied out in the open a 5 minute hike from the parking lot.
In the morning, we packed up, gave some guys beta on Conness and headed back for the park. With Kat and Wells in my car and Loren and Toni following behind, we headed for Olmsted with the Phil Collins Genesis blasting the whole ride, which the bearded ranger at the YNP enterance found extremely amusing and let us know with a "Right on Man!".
I wanted to hit up Ivory Tower up at Olmsted, not for the beautiful 5.10 hand crack that we warmed up on in the video below, but for a 5.8 off-width for which I had specifically purchased a BD #5 a few days earlier. I climbed Ivory Tower Center and set up a fixed line so we could shoot video and take photos by ascending and descending the line.
We amused ourselves on the OW all afternoon, and then headed over to Puppy Dome for some late day spoils. We couldn't get on any of the great lines there so we ended up doing laps free soloing Puppy Crack and doing some yoga on the summit.
After that we piled our tired and bloody bodies into the cars and drove down to the Mobil Mart for food. If you're not familiar, the Mobil Mart it's a gas station at the junction of 395 and 120 on the eastern side of the Sierras the has this little amazing deli. Rumor has it that they were even written up in Gourmet Magazine or some such publication. After a wonderful dinner, I had the bright idea to head south towards Mammoth and camp out at one of the many Green Church hot springs located in LADWP land. It made sense since we didn't have a campsite reservation in Yosemite anyways.
After that we piled our tired and bloody bodies into the cars and drove down to the Mobil Mart for food. If you're not familiar, the Mobil Mart it's a gas station at the junction of 395 and 120 on the eastern side of the Sierras the has this little amazing deli. Rumor has it that they were even written up in Gourmet Magazine or some such publication. After a wonderful dinner, I had the bright idea to head south towards Mammoth and camp out at one of the many Green Church hot springs located in LADWP land. It made sense since we didn't have a campsite reservation in Yosemite anyways.
After the sun set in the high desert of the Sierra, we found ourselves all naked in a steamy tub, in the middle of nowhere, counting shooting stars in a sky littered with light. We had great conversation and met a guy by the name of Jonathan who apparently is a frequent occupant of this specific tub. Once our muscles felt replenished after a day of off-width climbing and our fingers where sufficiently pruned, setting up camp was as simple as walking 20 feet into the desert and rolling out a tarp and sleeping bag. There were about 4 or 5 parties including a VW van that had the same idea to bivy out there as is a common occurrence.
After such a perfect day, absolutely nothing could have ruined that night...almost. Around 2 or 3pm I was woken up by the sound of a truck tearing through the backroads making it's way to the hot spring. It's not uncommon for people to roll up to these springs, especially the popular ones, in the middle of the night. However, this was a bit different. The truck pulled in and proceeded to back into one of the boulders that lined the sandy road. If the shitty house music this Dude Bra was blasting hadn't woken you up yet, the crash of his fender bending in two certainly should have. But he just back his truck up next to the spring, left his door open and hopped in.
This went on for 10 minutes, everyone probably either hoping he would turn it off or that someone else would say something. Loren, of course, is always that someone. At a whopping 145lbs, Loren is one hell of a climber. Probably not the guy I'd pick to back me up in a bar fight in Tennessee however. By now Loren had jumped out of his sleeping bag and continued his eloquent plea for the said Dude Bra to turn down his music. Instead, however, Loren was greeted by a guy jumping out of the hot spring and charging him butt ass nude. Once the screaming got to the point where I fully expected fists to start flying, I reluctantly got out of my bag and headed over. Yup, the Dude Bra was nude...and ripped. I'm thinking to myself, "well if Loren is gonna go to fist a cuffs then I'll have to back him up for sure, but if we take this guy down then what?" "If we let him go (still internal monologue) he would just roll up 30 minutes later with 3 Bramobiles and we'd get our asses whipped." "Well then, we'll have to hog-tie him, but not with my rope." "I guess I could sacrifice a cordalette, or shit, I've got duck tape!"
Cooler heads prevailed thankfully. I was able to play good cop to Loren's bad cop and asked the guy to just turn it down. Loren and I went back to our beds and the naked, fucked up guy (clearly on drugs) went back to his cocaine inspired Zen soak. Thirty minutes later however, Dude Bra still had some steam left in him. You see, Loren had threatened to take his keys durning the earlier arguement if he didn't shut his music off. Of course he didn't, however the drugged up Dude Bra didn't see it that way. Basically he misplaced his keys, grabbed an industrial flood light from his Bromobile and started going to each bivy party and tent demanding that he have his keys back. "You take my keys bro!" You got my keys bra!" One of the guys camping jumped up and grabbed his Mag-light and Mace and had a long face-off before Crowley Crew moved on to the next tent. You see, Crowley is the local town. The Dude Bra sprayed a wonderful diatribe about how this hot spring was his and we should all find a real campsite to stay out. The guy holding the Mace and Mag-light to his face asked, "what are you, Crowley Crew or something?" To which his fucking hilarious reply was, "Hell yeah, Crowley Crew to the death!" I'm of course thinking now that I might just have to hog-tie this guy after all now.
He continued on, got to me and I had to play verbal ping pong with this nut job for a bit. He got to Loren and he did the same. Finally he tired, found his keys or grabbed his spare keys and drove off. Peace at last. We woke up with the sun, rolled out of our bags and into the hot spring for a morning soak. All was peaceful with the world again. We soaked, we made breakfast, we drank a beer and we hit the road.
We headed back to Toulumne for another day of hardcore cragging, this time to Murphy's Creek. I had never been and wanted to check it out. Turns out the rock there is this grainy Manzanite, very unlike the normal Yosemite or Tuolumne granite. Really it felt like J-Tree. We climbed J Frogger (5.7), Pacman (5.8) and X Wing (5.9), all fairly easy but none of them straight forward. To a crew that was used to straight in splitter cracks, this was nothing of the sort. Pacman, if I remember, featured some of the coolest moves with a double crack system at a bulgy section of the route with a mandatory ring-lock.
After celebratory beers at Tenya Lake we headed home. The big objectives remained but we certainly had our fun. And next time you're driving south of Mammoth on Hwy 395, just remember, Crowley Crew to the Death!
This went on for 10 minutes, everyone probably either hoping he would turn it off or that someone else would say something. Loren, of course, is always that someone. At a whopping 145lbs, Loren is one hell of a climber. Probably not the guy I'd pick to back me up in a bar fight in Tennessee however. By now Loren had jumped out of his sleeping bag and continued his eloquent plea for the said Dude Bra to turn down his music. Instead, however, Loren was greeted by a guy jumping out of the hot spring and charging him butt ass nude. Once the screaming got to the point where I fully expected fists to start flying, I reluctantly got out of my bag and headed over. Yup, the Dude Bra was nude...and ripped. I'm thinking to myself, "well if Loren is gonna go to fist a cuffs then I'll have to back him up for sure, but if we take this guy down then what?" "If we let him go (still internal monologue) he would just roll up 30 minutes later with 3 Bramobiles and we'd get our asses whipped." "Well then, we'll have to hog-tie him, but not with my rope." "I guess I could sacrifice a cordalette, or shit, I've got duck tape!"
Cooler heads prevailed thankfully. I was able to play good cop to Loren's bad cop and asked the guy to just turn it down. Loren and I went back to our beds and the naked, fucked up guy (clearly on drugs) went back to his cocaine inspired Zen soak. Thirty minutes later however, Dude Bra still had some steam left in him. You see, Loren had threatened to take his keys durning the earlier arguement if he didn't shut his music off. Of course he didn't, however the drugged up Dude Bra didn't see it that way. Basically he misplaced his keys, grabbed an industrial flood light from his Bromobile and started going to each bivy party and tent demanding that he have his keys back. "You take my keys bro!" You got my keys bra!" One of the guys camping jumped up and grabbed his Mag-light and Mace and had a long face-off before Crowley Crew moved on to the next tent. You see, Crowley is the local town. The Dude Bra sprayed a wonderful diatribe about how this hot spring was his and we should all find a real campsite to stay out. The guy holding the Mace and Mag-light to his face asked, "what are you, Crowley Crew or something?" To which his fucking hilarious reply was, "Hell yeah, Crowley Crew to the death!" I'm of course thinking now that I might just have to hog-tie this guy after all now.
He continued on, got to me and I had to play verbal ping pong with this nut job for a bit. He got to Loren and he did the same. Finally he tired, found his keys or grabbed his spare keys and drove off. Peace at last. We woke up with the sun, rolled out of our bags and into the hot spring for a morning soak. All was peaceful with the world again. We soaked, we made breakfast, we drank a beer and we hit the road.
We headed back to Toulumne for another day of hardcore cragging, this time to Murphy's Creek. I had never been and wanted to check it out. Turns out the rock there is this grainy Manzanite, very unlike the normal Yosemite or Tuolumne granite. Really it felt like J-Tree. We climbed J Frogger (5.7), Pacman (5.8) and X Wing (5.9), all fairly easy but none of them straight forward. To a crew that was used to straight in splitter cracks, this was nothing of the sort. Pacman, if I remember, featured some of the coolest moves with a double crack system at a bulgy section of the route with a mandatory ring-lock.
After celebratory beers at Tenya Lake we headed home. The big objectives remained but we certainly had our fun. And next time you're driving south of Mammoth on Hwy 395, just remember, Crowley Crew to the Death!