Alta Peak in Sequoia National Park is not particularly “alta” as it stands at 11,200ft high, but it is known for having Eastside-like views without the drive.  It draws hikers and backpackers in the summer and skiers and mountaineers in the winter.  I was successful in corralling a small team to climb Alta in early April 2011.

The team consisted of Patrick M, with whom I had climbed the North Arête of Matterhorn, and Eszter T and Chris K, who are both members of the Bay Area Mountain Rescue Unit.  In the week before our planned climb, we monitored the weather closely and extrapolated what the avalanche conditions might be.  You know you have found just the right team when a weather forecast like this…

Friday Night: A 40 percent chance of snow showers. Mostly cloudy, with a low around -10. Wind chill values as low as -24. South southwest wind around 6 mph becoming calm. New snow accumulation of less than a half inch possible.
Saturday: A 20 percent chance of snow showers. Mostly cloudy and cold, with a high near 6. Wind chill values as low as -24. North northwest wind around 10 mph.
Saturday Night: Partly cloudy, with a low around -4. North northwest wind around 13 mph.
Sunday: Partly sunny, with a high near 20.

…causes squeals of delight and endless derivations of misery loves company, insanity loves company, insanity loves misery via email.

Beyond potentially challenging weather conditions, there was just one additional obstacle to which we turned our attention – the possible government shutdown!  It’s quite rare that politics influence my trip planning, but given we were heading to a national park and the budget negotiations were looking more and more dire, we sprang into action.

Through research on the internet and conversations with the Lodgepole Visitors Center, we determined that the chances were good to avert the shutdown if we got into Sequoia before midnight and left the trailhead by 7am at the latest, figuring that most rangers would not be reporting to duty any earlier than usual.  We learned that if a shutdown occurred, the park staff would have 48 hours to clear out people out of the park boundaries.  Perfect!  Our climb was expected to last less than 48 hours anyway.

Adrenaline pumping and already excited about what a great story we would have about this climb, summit or no summit, Patrick and I left the Bay Area with Chris and Eszter about an hour ahead of us.  As we finished up dinner at the Panda Express in Los Banos, Chris called saying the road about 30 miles from the Lodgepole Visitor center was closed for 2 miles.  It had not yet been plowed from a recent storm.  We were crestfallen that with all our research and preparation, we failed to learn that the year round North access route had this short section that could not be circumvented.

Lucky for us, Chris happens to own a small cabin in Oakhurst, just a few miles south of Yosemite.  We decided to regroup and headed north.  It was surreal that we would be sleeping in real beds in a heated cabin instead of surviving a night sleeping outside in subzero temps!  Chris had a solid collection of maps and after reviewing the surrounding areas for options that 1) were not in National Park territory and 2) did not require an overnight permit, we settled on Raymond and White Chief Mountains.  Both were ~8-9,000ft, accessible by snowshoeing up 4WD roads, and would at least give us the opportunity to camp overnight.

Unfortunately, the next morning we discovered the access road we needed was also closed and the Yosemite National Park chain control station was set up right in front of the road closure.  Thwarted again!  We seriously considered going home, but it just seemed like such a waste to be in a winter wonderland with our packs all ready but nowhere to go.

Chris remembered a nice section of Forest Service trail called the Lewis Creek Trail near his cabin that had a couple of picturesque waterfalls. We settled on doing a plain vanilla snowshoeing excursion to breathe some fresh air and get a workout.  Keeping our 40+ packs on for training purposes, we headed out to get our zen on.

First, turning right on the trail takes you downhill to the Corlieu Falls.  There were numerous downed trees we had to climb over or bypass.  We reached the falls quickly and found them to be beautiful and overflowing.  We took our time photographing the falls from every angle and soaking up the soothing sound of rushing water.

Heading back the way we came, we headed north for nearly two miles, climbing over numerous other downed trees along the trail.  The trail was relatively flat, but we still enjoyed getting the blood flowing and following pretty closely along Lewis Creek.  When we reached another spectacular set of falls, we set up an extended picnic and soaked in the sun and the sounds, grateful to have that experience even if our original ambitious objective had not even been attempted.

On the way back, we reversed our path and re-climbed or went around all the downed trees, coming to the very last section.  As I stepped over a large log , I put my left snowshoe down on the far side.  I transferred my body weight onto my left leg, and as I did so, the branches and snow I was stepping on gave way ever so slightly but in a way I wasn’t expecting.  I fell in slow motion and landed softly onto the snow and my pack, but as I fell, I felt a strong ‘pop’ and searing pain flooded my knee.  “This can’t be good,” was my first thought, and I focused on breathing through the pain to avoid screaming.

It occurred to me that getting injured with two mountain rescuers in tow could be a good thing.  Chris and Eszter made quick work of a wilderness medical assessment while Patrick helped me get more comfortable.  Given there was no trauma to any other part of my body, no blood, and the pain was dissipating quickly, we decided to gently try weighting the left leg.  I was surprised that it could take the weight but it felt weird and unstable in a way I could not articulate.  Patrick and Chris took turns carrying my pack less than a mile to the trailhead while Eszter spotted me as I used my hiking poles like crutches.

As soon as we got to the cars, we elevated my leg, made ice out of a Ziploc bag and snow, and I popped some Ibuprofen.  It was the right thing to do to minimize the swelling that had already begun, but it didn’t change the final diagnosis.  I learned on Monday morning that I sustained a complete tear of the ACL and surgery would be required if I wanted to return to my normal activity level.

Now three weeks later, I write this in my bed as I recover from surgery.  The next 6 months at the very least will look very different than I planned.  Apparently lots of cycling will be in my future, but no Split Mountain, Matthes Crest, Tenaya Peak, Cathedral Peak, 8 peaks of the Desolation Death March, Shasta, Trinity Alps or John Muir Trail as I had planned.

I’ll be back next year to try Alta Peak again.  They tell me the mountain will always be there…