This trip was the closest I have ever come to pure type I fun while alpine climbing. A short approach, perfect rock quality, and no one else on route. But alas, it could not be, for alpine climbing must be suffering.

Nathaniel and I both had a weekend free and wanted to get out into the wilds. We settled on an overnight trip to Mount Conness, home to several ultra classic Tuolumne climbing lines. I was a little concerned about the early season nature of the trip. After all, it was only June and we were heading to over 12,000 feet planning to climb rocks, not snow. But being new to the Sierra, I trusted Nathaniel’s judgement.

I had Conness in my head as more of an alpine destination than the rest of Tuolumne, but in reality the approach is not that long. The drive, however, is pretty significant, passing completely through Yosemite to reach Saddlebag Lake in the eastern Sierra. We made part of the drive the night before, camping at Hardin Flat and waking up early enough to hit the trail at Saddlebag Lake by 7 am. Our plan was to set up camp at Conness Lakes and climb the North Ridge of Conness the same day, with open options for the second day.

I don’t make a habit of soloing fifth class terrain, so I told Nathaniel I would prefer to bring a rope and light rack, which he graciously offered to carry the entire way. The weather was gorgeous, and within a couple of hours we had set up camp and were ready to set out on our climb. I was surprised that no one else was camping at the lakes because they were absolutely stunning and not too far from the road or maintained trail. Chunks of snow floated in the upper lake where we camped, but it was thawed enough to reveal a dramatic aquamarine color. Waterfalls cascaded down through the snowfields around the lake, and a light wind kept the mosquitos at bay. Pink and purple wildflowers bloomed from every crack in the rocks.

We opted to climb up a rocky gully toward the summit of North Peak. It was fun, solid scrambling, and we didn’t need to step foot on snow. At the summit of North Peak, a gorgeous white granite ridge stretched out before us all the way to the summit of Conness. Walking eventually gave way to scrambling, then climbing. The rock quality was so incredible that I couldn’t help exclaiming such and grinning constantly. It was something out of a dream, a fantasy of what it is to climb a mountain.

We did a single rappel at the top of a tower before the final block of climbing to the summit. We opted to follow close to the ridge for some more interesting climbing, though it is also possible to drop to the west. This was the first point that I started to feel a headache from the altitude, but I mostly ignored it since we were almost to the summit already. We spent about 20 minutes at the summit lounging, taking in the scenery, and chatting with a couple who had come up the West Ridge route (the first people we had encountered since leaving the trail). At some point my altitude sickness began to worsen, and by the time we set out across the summit plateau I was feeling very nauseous.

Unfortunately we made a route finding error and had to backtrack to get to the ridge from which we could descend back to Conness Lakes. At this point I was barely holding it together, completely out of breath and possibly about to vomit. I had never had altitude sickness hit me this quickly before. Below us was a steep and loose, but short, section of rock, followed by a moderate snow slope that would lead us back to camp. I didn’t like the look of it, so we briefly considered continuing along the ridge. But that would require more ascending, which I felt l could not handle at the time, so we made the decision to head down the loose rock. It was very sketchy, but we managed not to dislodge any scary blocks and were shortly on snow. From there it was a jaunt back to camp.

I still felt very sick upon arriving back at camp, and I lied around on my sleeping pad trying to eat some crackers. Nathaniel kindly refilled my water bottle and boiled water for dinner, which I could not eat. I considered going back to the trailhead for the night, but I felt so weak that I just had to rest. As the sun set, the wind picked up and hammered the tent for the rest of the night.

I woke up in the morning gratefully feeling much better. I still didn’t want to push it though, so I decided to have a chill day while Nathaniel soloed the West Ridge. After breakfast I lounged around for a while, taking photos, enjoying different vantage points around the lake, and reading about the history of Sierra exploration in R.J. Secor’s High Sierra. It wasn’t long before Nathaniel radioed that he had made the summit. We agreed to meet back at the car, and I packed up and headed off for a hike on the Lakes Basin Loop Trail.

The west side of the loop was gorgeous, with views of the snowy surrounding peaks and lots of waterfalls. The terrain changed dramatically on the east side, turning to red, loose rock. The trail was more difficult than I had expected, with many water crossings and a good amount of snow. I was worried that Nathaniel would have to wait for me, so I tried to go as quickly as possible for the last section. But I ended up getting to the car first anyway. I went for a dip in Saddlebag Lake, regrettably leaving my phone on the shore. I didn’t realize it until we were already in Tuolumne Meadows, which was unfortunate since we had to pass through the Yosemite entrance gate twice. In the end I was just relieved to get my phone back, otherwise I would have lost all my photos!

My first alpine climb since moving to California had somehow been both a beautiful dream and an ass-kicking. Fitting for this land of contrast and extremes.