Round Top is one of the more easily accessible Sierra peaks during winter, from the west side of
the range. It is a little more than four miles from Carson Pass, which is the furthest-south pass
that is kept open all year (in no small part due to Kirkwood Ski resort which is five miles west
of the pass). Michael and I decided to climb Round Top on our way up to Tahoe where we planned to
spend a few days in Kings Beach.
We left San Jose at 4:45a to ensure we'd have an early start out of Carson Pass. We encountered
little traffic at that time of day, and made good time, arriving at Carson Pass sometime after 8a.
We had made a stop for gas and a second one at Caples Lake to take in the views of
and relieve
of excessive liquid refreshments we had consumed on the drive up.
We , including
ice axe, crampons, snow shovels, and avalanche transponders.
These last two items had provided a small bit of contention in the previous days as we discussed
what to do and what to bring. I had expected that the snow would be well consolidated after two
weeks of no new snow and warm weather in its place. Michael was concerned about avalanches,
particularly the wet snow variety. It made little sense for him to carry a shovel and transponder
to allay his fears unless I did likewise. On a scale of conservative to risky, we both recognize
that Michael tends to one end and I fall to the other. Buying into the other person's position
sometimes helps Michael do things he might not otherwise, and sometimes it keeps me from taking
unnecessary risks. In this case, the extra weight and cost were of little consequence, so I
readily agreed to carry the items.
had a brand new pair of x-country
skis that he was dying to use, while
was on a pair
of snowshoes. The weather was beautiful as we headed out at 8:30a, only a few scattered clouds
and no breeze to speak of. Michael was struggling right at the start as he found the skiis offered
little traction for the moderate uphill over frozen snow. The snow was great for snowshoes, and I
was delighted. Michael stopped to put skins on his skis while I played around climbing the
little hills around the trail.
provided much better traction, and Michael's locomotion
. Unfortunately,
the binding began popping open, first on the right side, then
on the left, then on both. The first time this happened Michael remarked "Darn." The second time
was something like "Drats!" We tried several adjustments, loosening them, tightening them, but
still the bindings would pop after a few yards. Finally Michael got really upset and shouted out
a healthy "F***!" We tried a few more things until we hit on the idea of using a couple of small
pieces of cord that Michael had with him to tie the binding latch closed. It did the trick
beautifully, but by then Michael had sworn off ever returning to Western Mountaineering to buy
gear again. Michael's size 13 boots were stretching the limits of what the bindings were
designed for, and it seemed that a proper fitting should have noticed the improper seating of the
bindings. Oh well. We had a fix, and off we went.
There was plenty of tracks in the snow from those that had travelled before us in the several
weeks since it had last snowed. While this diminished the illusion of being alone in winter
wonderland, it did make it easy to follow the proper route.
It's only a couple of miles before one reaches near treeline and is treated with a marvelous view
of . We skirted past
and headed
uphill on the steeper portions of the climb,
rising gloriously up to our left.
When we reached due north of the saddle on Round Top's western flank, we stopped to leave
Michael's skis behind. This was the steepest part of the climb (on snow anyway), and Michael
wasn't having an easy time as the slope steepened. He considered carrying the skis up so that
he could ski down the wide bowl from the saddle, but in retrospect it was good that he'd left
the skis behind. The snow was pretty hard still, and Michael's skill level wasn't yet up to the
point where the descent would be considered enjoyable. We could see far to the north now, from
to
, and we pointed
out the few landmarks we knew such as Pyramid and Freel Peaks.
We hiked up the saddle in short order. I had an easier time with it as I still had the snowshoes
on, while Michael followed behind in his boots (his ski boots were remarkably good for climbing,
even up the class 3 rocks). We took in the views briefly from the saddle, dropped the snowshoes
and our ski poles, and began the short scramble east along the ridge to the summit. It is mostly
class 2 with a few
. This time of
year the snow fills the gap nicely between the
false and true summit, making it unnecessary to downclimb on the southside to get around it.
It was 11:30a when we reached the summit and congratulated
on a fine (if easy) climb.
Shortly after dropping our packs, we began to search for the register. Throughout the entire
route all the way to the summit there had been plenty of tracks suggesting this peak is climbed
quite frequently. In fact, we knew a Sierra Club party had climbed the peak just the previous
weekend. Yet the register was nowhere to be found. We decided it might be several feet
under snow that surrounded our summit platform. We had shovels with us which might prove useful
for finding a register even if they were unnecessary for avalanche rescue that day. Just as we began
to search, Michael's keen eye spotted it tucked under a small ledge, mostly burried under snow and
several rocks. The rocks were frozen in the snow but were soon pried away, and the register was
recovered. Either someone was trying hard to hide the thing, or it had spent the winter there.
I think we were prepared to remove a great deal of snow in search of it, but it was
fortunate that we did not have to expend the energy to do so. Michael found
for his excess energy.
Opening the ammo box, we found not one but about eight registers, and something like two dozen pens.
A very popular peak, indeed. There was little order to the registers, several having been used
concurrently for the last several years. The most recent date we could find was from December,
2000, so it seemed the register had indeed remained hidden from the other winter ascent parties.
We spent some time leafing through the various books. Partly I was looking for my previous entry
from 1997 (but unable to find it since I thought it had been in 1996 and was looking in the
wrong pages), and partly because some of the entries were quite amusing.
One particular person was quite irate that his name had been crossed out in a previous entry, and
went off on a tirade threatening testicular damage to the offending party should they be discovered.
The name of the person making this entry was subsequently crossed out a second time by a later
party.
We enjoyed the views that ranged from Mt. Rose and
to the north, to
northern Yosemite to the southeast.
We were sure we could see Matterhorn Peak, but were unable to determine which of several peaks in
the distance it might be. We could see
to the south along
with nearby
Mt Reba, where I had a bit of a misadventure the previous month in a
driving storm. To the west we could see chairlifts and even skiiers on the backside of Kirkwood,
several miles distance. Nearer,
followed a westerly
directions towards The
Sisters, two smaller high points on the ridge. Altogether we spent about an hour on the summit,
taking in the views, eating lunch, and perusing the registers, before heading out at 12:30p.
The Sisters sit a short distance to the west of Round Top, along the same east-west ridge. They
seemed an easy addition to add to the summit of Round Top since that peak was not too far from
the trailhead. It was still early afternoon (12:30p), the weather was fine, and I had much
unspent energy. As we began retracing our steps down the main summit block of Round Top, I was
able to talk Michael into joining me for the higher of the two Sisters. The lower Sister is
split by a notch into two small peaks, and at the time we thought these two lower peaks (further
along the ridge) were The Sisters. I brought all my gear with me while michael left his pack at
the saddle, and we climbed up the to the higher sister in about 15 minutes. This perch brought
us one of the more striking views of
, which made it appear to deserve
its class 3 rating.
Having gotten Michael to the higher of the two Sisters, I thought I might be successful in talking
him into continuing along the ridge to the lower Sister. No such luck. So Michael headed back to
the saddle while I headed west. I reached the lower Sister in only 11 minutes even though it had
appeared it would take half an hour. I climbed down the notch and then up to the other half of
the lower Sister. Looking towards Round Top, I could see
glissading down
from the saddle.
I waved to get his attention, but he seemed intent on his descent. When he was halfway down he
looked over and spotted me, shouting to get my attention. I hadn't thought of shouting since I
thought he was too far away, but it proved quite effective and I could hear him clearly from
probably half a mile away.
Michael had said he wanted to start heading back by 2p in order to avoid the slushiest part of
the day, and also because he hoped to get back in time to visit the x-country ski shop near
Kirkwood before they closed so they could have a look at his skis. It was 1:30p as I left the
lower Sister, still
along the ridge. I hoped to
find a route down the north side
so that I wouldn't have to regain the summit of the higher Sister in retracing my steps. I came
to another low point in the ridgeline, where one could easily walk south to reach the trail
heading to Fourth of July Lake. To the north was a
, filled with snow
that offered
a route down. I paused for several minutes to exam the conditions to access the difficulty. The
snow was quite firm, and I wasn't sure if I'd be able to kick steps in the snow. The runnout was
quite long, maybe 300 feet, but it was snow all the way. Should I fall, I would likely have a
fast and bumpy ride down, but not terribly life-threatening. Still, more speed that I would
prefer. I had a rather too-speedy descent down Mt. Sill last summer that
was still in my mind, which I was not eager to repeat. Fortunately, I had been carrying these damn
crampons and axe around all day, and I decided I would give them some air and a small workout.
Crampons on, axe in hand, I headed down the slope facing the mountain, kicking steps with my toes
as I descended. The axe plunged into the snow up to the handle, giving a secure handhold, but I
found it difficult to extract if I got too far below the axe. About halfway down the angle eased
enough to turn around and do some plunge-stepping, which gave way to a sitting glissade. Below me
was Round Top Lake, still quite frozen over. Long before I reached the lake, I found myself on
a part of the snowfield that had been under the sun's rays for much of the day, and the snow was
too soft to effect a good slide. My butt sank in the soft snow and brought me to a slow halt,
glissading at an end. I
to the lake edge and swapped the
crampons for snowshoes, and headed back for a rendevous with Michael.
I had to climb up a bit out of the Round Top Lake basin, and it took me longer than I had expected
to return to where I expected Michael might be waiting. I had told him to start back if he wanted,
so he might be anywhere between the base of Round Top (where we had left his skis) and Lake
Winnemucca by now. I found that I had come back around to Round Top (after my little circuit through
The Sisters) several hundred yards north of where the skis had been left. As it was uphill to
return to the same spot, I chose to yell for Michael. If he didn't answer, I'd assume he was ahead,
and then I would just head out myself. A bit to my surprise he did answer, having patiently
waited for me at that spot. I think he was surprised to find I was down below him, possibly a bit
annoyed, since I didn't communicate this route to him (I didn't hatch it until after I had left
him on the ridge an hour earlier).
It was 2:15p, so I was only a bit late (I had told him I'd join him at 2p). Michael put his skis
on and began the descent down the moderate slope to meet me. It took a few minutes, and Michael
was quickly becoming frustrated at the difficult in learning back-country skiing. He would traverse
across the slope for 50 yards or so, then fall down. He'd switch directions, and repeat the
manuever. Clearly he just needed more practice to get the hang of it, but he seemed frustrated
that the necessary skills didn't come more naturally. I could see that at this rate it would take
a bit longer to get back, so I hatched yet another plan to leave Michael and scale Elephants Back
on the return. By now
knows I'm up to something when
I start to speak in a slow, hesitating manner. He quickly wished me away to climb Elephants Back
and leave him to his frustration with his skis.
From Lake Winnemucca, Elephants Back is only about a 600-foot climb, but as it was getting late
in the day, I was beginning to hit my limit. As I got to the steeper slopes I rested often,
looking back for signs of Michael, but I never saw him. In fact, we hadn't seen another soul the
whole day since we had left the trailhead, and wouldn't until we returned. Even though it's a
popular trailhead even in winter, weekdays don't seem to see much use. I reached the top of the
gently sloping peak at 3p, and sought out the slightly detached highpoint on the northeast side.
The gap separating the high point was mostly filled with snow still, so it's hard to properly
call it "detached." Although much lower than
, Elephants Back
offers better views to the lowlands to the east and
, particularly down to
. I stayed on
top only a few minutes before descending off the northwest side.
It was a mildly steep descent off the top of Elephants Back, and a tricky manuvuer in snowshoes.
I slipped and slid, half glissading in a standing position, one shoe in front of me with my leg
straight, the other behind me with leg bent to control my balance. I danced around a few rocky
sections before I got to the gentler slopes. By now the snow had been beaten on by the sun for
much of the day, and it was sufficiently soft that I found myself post-holing even in the snowshoes.
This made the return all the more tiring, but at least it was downhill or flat, no more uphill
today. I overshot the trail on my return and ended several hundred yards south of the parking lot.
I crossed a meadow by the roadside and climbed back up the fifty feet or so to the lot. I found
Michael there, having arrived ten minutes earlier. It was now 3:45p.
Elephants Back was a fine end to an almost perfect day (except for that business Michael had with
his skis). We had both reached the level of exhaustion that was closer to satisifaction than pain,
and had had a great day indeed. As we drove to Tahoe (Michael declined to return to the ski
store at Kirkwood) and continued to take in the scenery, Michael
began to look longingly at the large boulders on the side of the highway and finally suggested
we stop for some bouldering fun. We found a suitable place to pull over and spent about 45 minutes
playing around on the rocks we found. Afterwards we drove to Kings Beach where we planned to
spend the weekend. We could only hope the weather would hold up so nicely for the next two days...
Continued...
Round Top
ourselves
packed up our stuff
Michael
I
The skins
improved accordingly
Round Top
Lake Winnemucca
our peak
Desolation Wilderness
Lake Tahoe
class 3 sections
ourselves
other outlets
Desolation Wilderness
Bear Valley Ski area
Round Top's ridge
Round Top
Michael
heading west
narrow chute
walked down
Michael
Round Top
southeast
Hope Valley