My First Solo Alpine Ascent

Me with my pack with 45 pounds of weights. I can't wait for spring.

I asked my friend to take this picture of me more for the purposes of my profile, so the reader can get a better idea of who I am. However, it showcases my first mountain. My first dream and obsession and, as of last summer, my first alpine style ascent.

The mountain in the center of the background is Sawmill Mountain. The 8,818 foot peak is relatively small compared to some of my other mountain obsessions such as Mount Whitney and Mount Everest, however it was a major personal movement forward.

I moved to Pine Mountain Club, California during the summer before seventh grade. Sawmill Mountain immediately caught my eye. The scree gully, which later became my route up the mountain, was so reminiscent of the classic peaks of the world. Its jagged, exposed face was captivating. I had to climb it.

I had made several plans with different friends to climb it, but every time one thing or another prohibited us from doing so. For 5 years, I had the mountain calling me. I had to answer it. I couldn't wait any longer.

I knew where I was going and what I needed to do it successfully. Hours of starring at the map gave me confidence that I could do it. I could stand it no longer. I left my home in the early afternoon and began walking. I packed a day pack with 1 liter of water, trail mix, and my 5.10 rock shoes.

The first mile and a half are on very easy trail with less than 1,000 feet of elevation gain. The final half mile, however, were a trial of everything I had. The slope is a very choss scree slope. For those of you who don't know, choss is very crumbly rock.

I continued up the route that my planning and speculating had shown. I was quickly scaling the face, occasionally turning to check the view. 100 feet, nice view and comfortable height. "I can't believe this," I thought as I reached 300 feet. 500 feet, incredibly exposed, I'm so glad I brought those rock shoes, I hope this next hold stays. After passing the more exposed section, the forest again explodes out of the mountain. I thought My main troubles were over.

As I continued through the trees, still on steep ground, I encountered a new problem: natural rose bushes and shorts. By the time I plowed all the way through the thicket, my legs were bloody and shaky.

The accomplishment I felt when I reached the summit was more than ever before. As I stood overlooking where I had come from, I realized how late in the afternoon it was. It would be dark in an hour and a half, returning by the way I had come was too dangerous and staying the night was not an option. I had to find the trail that runs along the top of the mountain and head east until I reached the road and would be able to hitchhike home. I started walking again at a hasty pace.

The trail seemed endless as I walked totally exhausted and out of water. "Shouldn't there be another hiker?" I wondered as I watched my shadows grow longer. There wasn't another hiker until I reached Mount Pinos where I was able to convince a departing family to give me a ride home. I was incredibly grateful for their ride and they seemed to enjoy me recounting my day.

I arrived home exhausted, hungry, and cut, but I arrived intensely satisfied that I had accomplished this goal. This first alpine ascent was the first of many to come. My life as a climber was undeniable. This is what I was supposed to do.