I have a new truck. I love my new truck. But it gets 12.3MPG if I keep the wind at my back. This is a man's truck. Perfect for a road trip in every way. No VW hippie van for me. No sissy Subaru here. MPG? LOL.

This trip had been on the books for months with a goal of Macronut and I slaying the North Ridge of Lone Pine Peak. But he sadly exploded his ACL riding a dirtbike shortly prior. My back-up parner and I left Fresno thursday night with a 2.5 day window to find something high and wild and alpine. LPP was a bit more than I wanted to chew with a young new buck so we hoped to head in and bag Mt Russell's East Ridge.

Slept in the dirt on Movie Road and woke to nasty, black, rainy skies in The Whitney zone.

Called Macronut at 6:00 am back in Fresno and asked him for weather beta. (he was sidelined for this trip only a week or two out of surgery so we used him as our base camp weather operator. Just hours after finding out about his mutilated ACL, I was perusing the local climbing gym for young rope guns and came across this kid......a V8 boulderer who had never tasted alpine action but who was looking to learn from a master.)


Macronut told us that the NOAA website was ushering a lightning warning for all high country activity so we headed north faster than you can say "Sport Climbing is Neither."


We pulled into Mammoth, hit the Looney Bean for a cup of joe and pulled out the guidebook.
The North Ridge of Crystal Crag looked like it would be a perfect intro to the mountains for this kid. Minimal approach, some nice loose rock and a pretty ridge leading to a tiny summit.

Some quick pack and rack and we were on like Donkey Kong.

Look at that junk show on his back. It's his first time packing an alpine pack. Give him a break.

Big thunderheads tried to scare us off but we would have none of it.

I gave him a quick crash course on chest compressions in the event of lightning and we were at the base in no time.


He climbed like a champ, built solid belays like an old guy and moved quickly at the transitions. I was really proud of him.
Stellar but loose climbing up through the Crystal Corridor was fantastic.

We pressed on along the knife edge ridge and eventually made it to the South Summit which was quite fantastic and exposed.
Clouds threaten, but we ain't skeerd. I give him the last 50 feet to the summit and his stoke is buzzing down the rope between us.

Nice views on the downclimb.
"Lookin like a real Alpinist kid!"

We hike out with full hearts and time on our hands. Northward we go! Tuolumne? The Valley? Mobile Mart for fish tacos? I need gas anyway, the Tundra is getting 11.8 now at this altitude and is thirsty for more fossil fuel. The weekend is young. The world is our oyster.

Sunrise finds us a few more miles further down the road. In the Lembert Dome parking lot with the Jetboil hissing away. Coffee percolates in perfect rythm with my heartbeat as I find my happy place.

The parking lot is full of familiar Supertopo faces and it's fun to meet Ed Hartouni and others in person for the first time.

We are 300 miles from where we thought we would be 24 hours ago so we have no guidebook and the beta stream overflows from these new friends of ours. They talk us into trying Crying Time Again .10a R and with apprehensive guts we rack and head up to be the first on the climb.
I figure the kid can climb V8 and 5.12 so it will be good for his head to get on some 5.8 run out. There is a fine line between mentorship and hazing. So up he goes. The innocence of his youth winnowing with every foot higher he goes without protection.


Ok......so that pitch was stout. I'm really proud of the boy. Hard for 5.8 if you ask me. Spencer whimpered his way up in solid fashion, mumbling "dude I'm reeealy scared man..." over and over. He got suckered out right a couple times and I guided him back left while sneaking peeks on my i phone photo of the topo. I found the pitch really hard and may have yelled take at some point (though I will deny this later at the gym if the conversation comes up). We are both a bit rattled by the stiffness of the first pitch and we agree to rap off before I fall off the .10a traverse above that the guidebook says is "scary for the follower."

We head out with a lesson learned about gym grades vs. Tuolumne grades and we are smiling after finding out that B.L. and Hartouni bailed off American Wet Dream. "See Kid, sometimes you go up, sometimes you don't. A bad day here in paradise is better than a good day back at home flippin channels or doing yard work."


We South, through the great Valley, and toward Fresno and it's 104 degree surface temp. The drive goes quickly as I unleash 24 years of alpine wisdom on the child. I am Yoda and he is my patowan. I teach him the difference between cumulus and stratus, how to take the path of least resistance, how to place pro and how to equalize anchors and 12 ways to die rapping. He soaks it up like a sponge.

47 hours after leaving home we shut off the Tundra and check the mileage. 576 miles. A complete circumnavigation of the heart of the range. Four tanks of gas. One summit. One bail. Some new friends and a mountain man in the making. Not a bad way to spend 300$ in fuel.




Until next time, Supertopo.

Micronut, out.


Postscript: its sunday morning and I get this text:
The boy is hooked. Keep an eye out on craigslist for "Bouldering pad for Sale. Cheap."