Charlotte Dome, South Face

By: John Peterson | Climbers: John Peterson, Jared Toman, Alastair Reid |Trip Dates: June, 1995

Photo: Gary Clark

® The author(s) and naclassics.com | Back to climb page NAC Home page

The plan was to bag Charlotte Dome. Seduced by the Fifty Classics, I convinced Jared and Alastair that this would be fun. We obtained a wilderness permit without a problem and intended to buzz to the base of the climb, camp, and then climb and hike out the next day. We spent part of the morning organizing our gear and then headed to the Onion Valley trailhead.

There are two ways to get to Charlotte: over Kearsarge Pass from the east or up Bubbs creek from the west. Either way, it's a grunt. The western approach is long and hot and finished with a steep climb to the rock. The eastern approach is mostly trails and easy bushwhacking, but involves a pass at 11800. From the east, it's 5 miles to the pass, 3 more to Charlotte lake, and another 3 to the rock itself. We chose the eastern approach mainly because I didn't want to drive all the way around west.

What I hadn't counted on was the amount of snow still on the mountains. It was almost July, but the snowline was around 10000'. This meant that most of the hike would be on snow. We were poorly equipped for snow travel: I had axes and gaiters, but only Alastair had decent boots. I was in my `macho' tennies, liberally smeared with snowseal; Jared had similar footgear. Only Jared had sunglasses, so Alastair and I bought some cheepos in Lone Pine.

At the trailhead, things didn't look so bad. Jared was really excited by the high peaks all around and was eager to go on his first alpine climb and first bivy. Waving goodbye to Marti and the boys, we stomped off towards the pass on the initially dry trail with our heavy packs. The views were spectacular and we were all in high spirits.

At the first lake, about 2 miles up, we stopped on a rock to eat and relax. Above, the trail was buried in snow and we decided to put on gaiters and get out the axes. We hoisted our packs and began to trudge up the soft snow. The trail was no longer visible but there were lots of footprints to follow. We met other parties from above that all had snowshoes dangling from their packs - we hoped they weren't mandatory! As we neared the pass, Alastair started to slow down a bit. He had never been to altitude before and was feeling the effects of the thin air. Eventually, we reached the top of the pass and regrouped. The last slope to the pass was long and exposed - we were glad we had the ice axes with us. At the top of the pass we met a party of backpackers coming over from the other side. They had showshoes but said we should do OK without them. Charlotte lake seemed a long ways away. The trail was dry for a few hundred feet and then it was back to snow. We followed the other party's tracks and contoured over to a bench above the valley. Charlotte lake is in the next drainage north - to avoid losing elevation a trail stays high on the right of a frozen lake to small saddle. We could see a small section of the trail ahead where it had melted out and we headed for that.

The going was much slower than we had anticipated. The snow was soft and wet - our feet were soaked. We didn't posthole in all the way very often, but when we did it was exhausting. The weather had been deteriorating: a light rain fell but the blew over; clouds filled the sky. It had been generally fair but the high peaks seemed to attract afternoon storms. Still, it was late in the day and we noted that there was plenty of time to climb before the weather blew in.

After crossing the exposed part of the trail, we lost the trail again and started heading cross country to the lake. It was obvious that the lake was as far as we were going to make it and we felt the approach the next day would go quickly since our map showed a fairly flat valley between the lake and the climb. Also, the map showed a ranger cabin at the lake. We wondered if it was open!

Finally Jared and I arrived, tired and wet, at the lake. It was getting dark and obviously time to camp. Jared looked for the cabin but couldn't find it anywhere. We managed to find a small dry spot to pitch the tent and sacked out for the evening. While the hike had been more than we expected, we weren't in bad shape and were ready to climb the next day! One nice thing about the snow was that there were no bears around - no problem leaving the food in the tent with us.

The next morning, we jumped out of the tent when we saw sun on the peaks over the lake. Leaving in a hurry, I neglected to put the fly over the tent. Just past the campsite we found the ranger cabin - Jared had missed it the night before. The door was open but nobody was home. We still had not seen the rock but the route to it was obvious - follow the valley down from the lake. The snow was well frozen and we made rapid progress. Finally, about 3/4 mile from the lake, we finally saw the dome! Alastair stopped for a picture while Jared and I moved on, not realizing he had stopped. I was worried about the river we had been following - we had crossed to the side opposite the rock just below the lake and I could see that the snow thinned out ahead. I decided to cross back as soon as possible to the drier side and to avoid a wetter crossing down below. I abruptly turned right and headed for the water. Soon, I found an island in the stream with relatively easy crossings on either side. Before Jared crossed, I asked him to wait for Alastair. He waited, hiked back a bit and called, and then came back to tell me we had lost him.

The last thing I wanted to do was spend all morning trying to get back together. The base of the rock was the obvious place to go so Jared and I carried on without Alastair. Unfortunately, crossing the stream was a big mistake. Instead of frozen snow, we were in an endless swamp left by the recently melted snow. This slowed our progress and we wasted a lot of time looking for a good route through places where none was to be found. We completely gave up on keeping our feet dry and trudged through with damp shoes. About a mile below the crossing, we came to a large meadow. The snow on the other side had diminished and there was a large rock next to the stream. Unfortunately, it was on the other side or we could have used it to jump across so we continued on our side. Slowly, the ground dried out and we started to climb out of the valley across a manzanita covered slope to the rock. Following deer trails, I noticed some footprints - maybe Alastair was ahead of us! As we neared the rock, one last suprise hit us: another roaring stream. After fooling around looking for a dry crossing, we finally settled for a place where it was only up to our knees. Since the creek was dropping at a 45 degree angle, it was still quite gripping. FINALLY - we were at the rock! And there was Alastair! He had cruised down easy snow while we were slogging in the swamps and jumped the stream at the rock in the meadow. While crossing the manzinita to the rock, Alastair ran into a bear. Both of them turned and ran - the bear up a tree and Alastair up the hill. After a moment, he realized he wasn't being pursued and stopped for a photo of a treed bear. Jared and I never saw it. When we had his pictures developed, there was indeed a small furry spot in the tree that may have been a bear (or a large squirrel!). Alastair has vowed to buy a telephoto lens.

It was now 9:30 - quite a bit later than we had hoped. As we studied the rock, we saw another party ahead of us, about a pitch up! Damn!!! They must have taken the other approach. Oh well - nothing to do but get in line.

It was time for a fateful decision: do we carry packs or not?? Weather looked good, we had a forecast for hot, dry weather, and nothing had moved in yesterday until 3 or 4pm. Let's go naked! No packs!! We changed shoes, racked up, and I started a long traverse over to the base of the route. Since our hiking shoes were soaked, we placed our gear out in the sun to dry off during the climb. I brought out my secret weapon: dry socks! Just the thing to get us up the route!

Seems like the other party was a little lost. The route starts way left on easy rock. They had jumped into a line of grooves that led directly to the upper part of the route and looked much harder than the regular start. Alastair and Jared were quite a ways behind, but I decided to put on the rope and solo the first pitch while I waited. The climbing was easy and this worked just fine except ... Alastair and Jared thought I was under the other party somewhere. They were looking for me around to my right while I sat on a ledge waiting for them. Eventually, we got together again (after losing some precious time, though) and we started climbing for real. Although we were a party of three, we were able to keep moving quite fast. I would usually start each lead solo while the third man was climbing. I could usually get 30 or 40 feet up before I needed a real belayer. The climbing was usually moderate and the rock was good. The crux pitch is 3 or 4 pitches up and was about the only really memorable pitch on the route: a nice crack up a bulge. This was 5.7 and I did some wild stems between the crack and knobs on the right. Jared tried to duplicate my technique and popped off while beating up on a nut from a stem position.

Since our first pitches were easy, we were soon above the other party. They seemed totally lost and were making a huge traverse across the nose of the buttress. After a couple of completelely horizontal pitches, they arrived at the top of our first pitch and disappeared back to their tent at the base of the rock. As we got higher, the cracks petered out and the rock became more polished. I gave Jared a lead and, after doing some nice runout face climbing, couldn't figure out where to go. From below, I was sure he should go right. He wanted to go up and left, but didn't want to commit. Eventually, he set up a belay and I took over. For whatever reason, I was sure we should be around to the right. The traverse was a little tricky but I had a good nut in and went for it. I landed in an area of the rock with deep, water polished, grooves everwhere. The problem was that these didn't have cracks in the back very often and I had to make some long runouts. Finally, I found a stance with a few OK nuts and brought up the others. Above, the furrows grew deeper but still lacked much pro. With some more traversing and long runouts, I finally reached a nice ledge below what appeared to be the final wall. I have no clue whether we were on route or not - this corresponds to what thay call the furrow pitch in the Fifty Classics but it seemed more runout than they described. The only other line would have been left where Jared had been, but that looked just as runout. One of the problems with this climb is that the line is very indistinct: the nose of the rock is hundreds of feet wide and the route wanders a lot.

At this point, the clouds were gathering and the weather began to look threatening. Nothing to do but keep going as fast as possible! The nose of the buttress was getting more distinct and was about 40' left at this point. I traversed and landed on easy chickenheads. Looks good! Maybe this is the top! No such luck - the top of the pitch is a big ledge below the REAL last pitch! I can see the chickenheads pictured in the book above me. As I start to belay, it begins raining. The others climb as fast as possible and soon we're all together on a large ledge in light rain and occasional hail. There's some lightning, but it's not too close.

Ever since leaving the car, Jared's attitude has been steadily deteriorating. He wasn't happy about the slog to the lake, was worried about separating from Alastair, and hated the swamps. On the climb, he's totally unimpressed with the route. The rain makes his misery complete - he's ready for the helicopter! The immediate plan is to get out of the rain. Not having rain gear, we start looking for shelter. I traverse left on the ledge to a large flat boulder that looks like it has room underneath. As I step onto it, the whole thing starts to move and I jump back. Not there! Next, I go down a bit to a chimney filled with chockstones. I can just squeeze in to a dry spot, but it only holds one. We're all getting sick of this and I crawl out again. Above, the final pitch is too wet to climb but there's an easy crack about 50' left leading up. I lead up the wet rock and belay on a ridge leading to the top. Alastair (who enjoys rain!) leads on up to the summit and Jared and I follow.

The book makes the descent sound really simple: follow a 3rd class ridge to easy slabs. Well, in the rain with lightning striking across the valley, it turned out to be far more challenging then the climb! The problem was that thick black lichens covered the rocks. When wet, this was as slick as snot in our rock shoes. The exposure over each side was tremendous; we stayed roped up and carefully picked our way along the ridge until, near the end, we encountered a huge, dry cave under a table-like rock. We spent a long time here, discussing the wretchedness of the weather, the route, the campsite, and even the whole trip. Our one hope was to get back to the ranger cabin and light a friendly fire to dry everything off. Eventually, it was obvious the weather wasn't getting any better and we would have to get moving again. A few more scary parts and we were on the slabs. At least the slabs were mostly free of lichen, but going was still slow. It was steep enough to require a spiderman-like four point technique in the rain. Eventually, we reached our packs where we had left everything out to dry - Ha!! At least now we had some extra clothing - even though it was wet, it felt good. We watched small rivers of water running down the rock and, changing to soaked hiking shoes, we waved a fond one-finger farewell to the dome. There was absolutely no question of hiking back to the car. At this point, it looked like it would take effort just to get back to the tent before nightfall. Crossing the stream by the rock was no better than on the approach and we thoroughly soaked our legs in the process. From here, there was some easy hiking to the place where we joined the stream coming down from the lake.

Since Alastair had such an easy time on the hike in, it seemed logical to cross the stream now and hope the other side was good. We would like to have crossed where Alastair had, but his was a one-way crossing. Rather than take our chances (Jared and I had scouted that part of the stream thoroughly) we decided to cross at the first opportunity. Soon, Alastair and I found a wet log leading across the water. We both crossed successfully but Jared would have none of it. We decided to proceed upstream on our opposite sides until he found a crossing more to his liking. After hiking up a while, ocasionally shouting back and forth with Jared, we lost sight of him and decided to stop and wait. Soon, we heard cursing behind us and up walked Jared - soaked from head to toe. He had tried to jump, but fell a little short and plunged into the icy water. He got out without any problem, but was now even more miserable. Alastair and I forced him to eat some raisons to avoid becoming hypothermic.

We were still below Alastair's jumping rock; this part of the hike was new to all of us. While the ground on the opposite shore was a bit boggy, our side turned out to be a maze of avalanche debris and downed logs. Far worse than the bogs, this was tiring and very slow. Just as we reached the meadow where Alastair had jumped, the sun poked out of the clouds. Just ahead, it bathed the snow in evening light. We were just barely in the shadow of the dome. I hurried to catch one last golden ray, but it was too late - the sun sank behind the rock and we were destined to be in the shade till the next morning. From here to the tent was an easy, but exhausting, slog in the rain-softened snow. Alastair was still feeling the altitude and started to fall behind. Jared was swearing to never climb rock again and had vowed to hop on the first east-bound plane out of Bishop as soon as we returned. Jared had lived such a sheltered life - three years of climbing and he had never before experienced the joys of an epic!

Just before total darkness, we pulled into the lake. The cabin was now firmly locked - a ranger had visited that day and changed it from winter mode (open to travellers in need) to summer mode (locked tight when nobody is home). Damn. Oh yeah, and we hadn't put the rain fly on the tent. Actually, the inside of the tent was only damp, not soaked. Jared's bag was the worst - his was down. A while later Alastair dragged in and we all huddled together for the night. Tired as I was, it was almost impossible to sleep. My bag is a 3 season bag, and this was the 4th season. Worst of all, I had taken a big drink of cold streamwater just before going to bed. Try as I might to keep my hands and feet warm, I had a cold spot inside that just wouldn't go away.

At last the night was over. Unfortunately, our campsite was on the wrong side of the divide for morning sun, so we waited in the tent for photons to finally arrive. Everything we had worn the provious day was frozen solid: boots, socks, coats. Eventually Jared resolved to venture out and hunt for warmth. After walking out barefoot onto the cold ground, he found a pair of overmitts. Placing these on his feet, he was able to move around our small patch of dry ground and start organizing his stuff. The sun had hit the camp, but it was filtered through the trees. Alastair and I begged Jared, Lord of the Photons, to place our socks shoes, and coats on sunlit rocks to warm them up. Eventually, we all emerged from the tent and set up a clothesline to dry our gear. Unfortunately, I knew that the problem on the hike back would be sun, not cold. We eventually packed up and started hiking over the frozen snow. The ranger had left tracks from the day before - these led to the saddle above the lake where we could see the pass in the distance. Although we had only about 1600' of elevation to gain, in our wasted condition this was a long ways! The snow grew soft and mushy, further slowing travel. No clouds at all - it would have been a superb climbing day. The views were spectacular - snow covered mountains and high waterfalls in all directions - but we had ceased to care. The final hill up to the pass was the cruelest bit of all and we arrived exhausted.

The descent to the car was almost fun. Jared and I ran, plunge stepping, all the way down the snow-covered part of the trail. We even met a party coming up on skis. Jared recovered some of his good humor and we arrived at the car wasted but not totally dead. I was worried about Marti and thought she might have driven up to find us but there was nobody to meet us at the car. Alastair soon arrived and we zoomed down to Bishop. Our plan was to attack the local Sizzler and make the sorry they had ever advertised `All You Can Eat'. As we started dinner, Marti and the boys arrived. She had gone into town to ask the sheriff what to do if we didn't return. Fortunately, they hadn't started a search and all was well again.

So the bottom line is: approach from the west in the early season! Take rain gear, climb fast, and be careful about route finding.