Amy Balfour wrote this awesome article which appeared in the South Florida Sun-Sentinel about her experience hiking the backside of Half Dome. You have to read it. It’s fantastically witty, humorous, and engaging. Here’s a clip to get you warmed up.
Sun-Sentinel : “I approach the cables on this warm July 4th weekend, scrutinizing my route to the top and wondering how the park literature could be so wrong. I tend to believe what I read, and on page 66 of the Official Guide to Yosemite a well-organized chart includes the “trail” to the top of Half Dome. But isn’t a trail something you walk “on”? Or backpack “over”? Not something requiring crampons, clips and a living will. But who knows. Maybe “steel-pegged path of horror” wouldn’t fit the space provided.
I look to my right. A large pile of climbing gloves rests beside the cables. Left by previous hikers, they are free for the borrowing and much recommended for getting a grip on the cables. I reach down, grab a pair of mittens. One red, the other yellow. Small rubber pads dot the palms and fingers, improving the grip. I slip them on, clench my fist. They’re a little long. I turn, grab a steel cable in each hand.
The steel posts are hammered into the rock about six feet apart, too far to step from rung to rung like I would on a normal ladder. I stare at the wall of granite in front of me. Just hold tight and pull yourself up. I throw my arms forward, gripping the cables tight. Like a puppy on a waxed linoleum floor, I scramble madly until my feet are directly in line under my shoulders. Whoa! Not only am I battling gravity and weak arms, but apparently I’m relying on inaccurate trail guides. 45 degrees!? Lynn Hill wouldn’t climb this thing unassisted. This slope is at least 80 degrees if it’s an inch.
So now what? Do I hurl my hands forward and reach for the cables, hoping in the split second my hands are free I don’t slip? Or should I shuffle my feet ahead, then pull my body forward? I look up. The next set of posts is close. I inhale, hurl my right leg forward and catch it on the right post. The Fat Ankle has landed. I curl my leg around the post and heave my body into a standing position. If a crab and a tree sloth had a one-night stand, I could be their lovechild. The lovechild takes a breath. Looks down.”