Top Of The World
 We were close. We were really really close. These pictures were taken between the two peaks of the Matterhorn. (The second peak being the one I made it to in our August trip) A ledge connected the two peaks with a gigantic drop off and incredible winds that were much more powerful than the top. Father's energy was flagging. He had little doubt that we could make it to the top, but more than a little doubt that we would have a tough time getting back home. We decided to press on. |
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Above is a picture of the final 150 feet. This, I believe, would be considered a "technical" part of the climb, as we went through a few five foot stretches of clinging to the near-vertical rock. Between the two of us, Father had a far more advanced conception of mortality and repeatedly questioned the wisdom of this last bit of climbing. We both knew that a fall at this point would not kill us immediately, but also recognized that a fall at this point would force the incapacitated adventurer to spend the night at 12,000 feet.
On 1:40pm, 8 hours and 20 minutes into the hike (and many years after its original conception), we summited. We made it to the top, which actually is a good 40 feet in length.
This peak is the highest point in the Northern Yosemite Mountain Range.
It was an awesome view, particularly because the top was such a distinct peak. If you look at the picture to the right, I am sitting in a relatively safe position, although you can not see any ground behind me.
The real question: Did Jack make it to the top?
I was so excited to be at the top, to have made it when I had heavy doubts late in the hike, I was laughing like a loon, and giddy while Father was more concerned about getting down before dark. We rummaged round and found the Register. The point of the register is to "register" the people who have made it to the top. It was a heavy, bomb/fire/water-proof box, that seals shut.
Inside, not only was the government-issued registration book enclosed, but all kinds of hand-written, personal notes as well. The box was more like a scrap book than anything.
I paged through it for a long time, with Father getting impatient, when I came across a laminated note.
