We were up before dawn in our Curry Village tent cabin, eating a quick breakfast and packing off to the car. Sam, Matthew, and I drove to the stables parking lot where we were to meet two other hikers before our 6a start. Daniel drove up about 10 minutes before 6a, but the other hiker never materialized. Or if he did it was after 6a, as I'm never one to wait around past start times.
My previous hike up Tenaya Canyon had started too late in the morning and progressed too slowly to make our way to the top of the route and back. We had been stopped near the top of the Inner Gorge before running out of time to continue. We would have to move quickly today if we were going to make the route through all the difficult sections and return before dark. We carried no rope or other climbing gear - with careful route-finding we didn't expect anything more than class 3. I had climbed with Matthew and Sam before and knew they had the stamina to make the long day. Daniel was an unknown, but as it turned out he had as much skill on the rock and as much stamina as the rest of us.
From Happy Isle we followed the trail to Mirror Lake on the south side of Tenaya Creek. We followed
this past the impressive NW Face of Half Dome to the end of the maintained trail at a
footbridge, then continued on the south side following a slowly diminishing use trail. After the
first hour we were 
scrambling across the creek up the first serious obstacle,
a series of huge, slick boulders and 
granite slabs that follow the cascading course of
the creek. We tried to climb
the route alongside the creek but got stymied within about 30 feet of clearing the top. The rock
was just too slick, and we'd already gotten more than we bargained for on some of the rock
immediately prior. We backed off of this and found a drier route around to the right, bypassing
the place we'd gotten stuck. We probably spent 30 minutes on this 100 yard section that was
completely unnecessary. As we were to find out, this whole section can be bypassed by following
a use trail on the north side of the creek, starting just on the other side of the
footbridge we had passed. Oh well, next time I'll now how to shave some time off.
We continued up the creekbed for several more hundred yards before discovering the aforementioned
use trail north of Tenaya Creek. This leaf-strewn path we followed for well over a mile under
the oak canopy,
bypassing much of the boulder-hopping 
in the creekbed that we'd done the previous
time below the Inner Gorge. Despite our hang-up back at the first obstacle, we made good time,
reaching 
the start of the 
Inner Gorge at 8:15a.
Now the real fun would begin. We passed 
delightful pools, some with six inch fish
that darted from view the moment they spotted us. Climbing around
these pools was great fun over a variety of short bouldering problems. At the memorable toilet
bowl pitch (rappel bolts are found above here, used by those heading downstream and
utilzing a rope), we found the conditions slightly more difficult than the previous year. There
was just a bit more water coming down the granite slope to make crossing the creek and climbing
the steep bank on the south side a tad trickier. I crossed first and set up to photograph the
others, particularly if someone should slip and end up in the pool a short distance below. Daniel
crossed second without incident. Sam 
inspected the place where we'd stepped across
the stream
and decided to place a hankerchief on the landing for additional traction. Matthew came last,
the least comfortable on the rock of the four of us, and studied the rock a long, long while.
He was a bit shakey, but made it across without slipping.
We climbed on. Some sections had 
natural staircases we put to good use. Though mostly a
boulder-strewn canyon carved between monstrous granite walls, there was some shrubs, flowers,
and 
even ferns growing in the shady,
mist-laden (when the water is higher) nooks along side the
creek. Though it had been less than a year since my last visit, some of the memory was fading.
I recalled most of the rock problems and how to solve them, but took one wrong turn that led to
some serious bush-whacking on a steep hillside about 100 yards above the creek on the north side.
I apologized several times even as I plunged head-on into the thick brush, trying to get us out
of the uncomfortable mess.
We made it 
back to the canyon floor after about 30 minutes of this,
and since we didn't lose anyone along the way we were no worse for the wear. In all we spent
about an hour and a half climbing up the Inner Gorge, the most enjoyable part of the whole route.
Before we reached the top of the Inner Gorge where I knew the trail to dead end, we considered
our escape options. Previous parties report, and Secor describes following a route about a
hundred feet high on the north side. This looked to involve a bit of bushwhacking up some steep
hillside and then some traversing on ledges along a route we couldn't quite make out from below.
I had expected us to take this route, but once we were there I became interested in a route that
would climb up and traverse on 
the south side.
With little effort I was able to talk the others into giving that a try.
We figured we might lose an hour or so if that way didn't go, but it seemed worth a try.
We climbed south up and out of the canyon,
following 
broken slabs along a steep route that was our
only real option up the cliff-lined canyon wall. We climbed up two or three hundred feet before
we could traverse left. We didn't avoid bushwhacking, but the thickest sections were thankfully
short. We traversed the granite slabs along the bushline for a few hundred yards until we were
above the top of the Inner Gorge. Here we were presented with a quarter mile-long section of
steeply sloping 
class 3 granite to get down to the bottom of Lost Valley below.
We followed a
long, diagonal tack that had us wondering if we wouldn't run into a cliff at the very end up
until the last 100 yards or so. Daniel was ahead forging the way followed by Sam and myself.
Three of us reached Lost Valley and took a break while we waited for Matthew to join us.
After a potty break, a snack, and more waiting, there was still no sign of Matthew. "What could
have happened to him?", we wondered. Daniel went back along the stream a few hundred yards to
check. He came back and reported seeing Matthew on the lower sections of the slabs. We waited a
good deal more, and finally, 45 minutes into our break Matthew came up to join us. He'd gotten a bit
concerned on the sloping granite, and stopped to change into his rock shoes he was carrying
with him. But he didn't find these any more comforting when he tried them, and ended up switching
back to his regular shoes. Matthew commented more than once that he really didn't like
friction climbing. The rest of us would grow weary of this by the end of the day as well.
We hiked up through the mile-long 
Lost Valley, but found it disappointing. Aside from a
lone duck
in one of the pools, there was very little else of interest. From the name I had expected some
exotic hideaway with grassy meadows and hidden swimming holes, but it was really just a boulder
and bushwhack slog we were happy to dispense with. We heard voices and then spied a party of four
ahead of us heading downstream on the other side of the creek. We passed by them without being
noticed. We neared the upper reaches of Lost Valley and began climbing 
more steep slabs.
To the north I spotted 
another exit route that leads up to
Olmstead Point - I would have to check that route out at some future date. 
Our route,
the standard
exit (or entrance, for most parties), followed increasingly 
steep slabs alongside a
shrub-covered boulder/talus fan. Again Matthew found the slabs a bit daunting, preferring to
stay in the 
nearby shrubs for safety.
We gave him a hard time for 
his thrashing, cutting him no
slack and deriving a good deal of pleasure at his expense. What else are friends for? The shrubs
eventually ended and there was nothing but ever-increasing steep slabs above. A
party of ten hikers on there way down formed a dotted line of bodies
down 
the steepest section above us. It
helped confirm we were on route. The group seemed to have one or two experienced leaders, the
rest dutifully following along, perhaps unsure what they had gotten themselves in for. They looked
to be in their twenties, all of them, and they were having a great time, yakking it up with
each other. This seemed to offer Matthew more comfort that the slabs really could be
climbed in ordinary shoes by mere mortals. I greeted the other party members as I passed them on
my way up. Daniel and Sam came up and continued past me as I waited for Matthew 
at the top
of the steepest section, where the bushes again grew and offered additional security. We
followed some ducks through a maze of passages through the bush, over rock,
and 
up much talus.
We regrouped at the top of 
a small ridge with an unusually spherical erratic topping it.
While we took a break here I took the opportunity to boulder up the 10-foot diameter rock (it is
about 5.5 by the easiest route on the northeast side).
The ridge lies a few hundred feet above Tenaya Creek on the southwest side. After our break we
hiked down the easy slabs (I have never hiked so many slabs in my life as we did this day)
to the creek,
just above where it begins dropping steeply to Pywiack Cascade. At this juncture we
had climbed all the difficult sections of the canyon. The remaining three miles to Tenaya Lake
follow the gentler grade of the upper part of Tenaya Creek. Matthew left us at this point and
continued up the creek to where we'd left his car at Tenaya Lake the other day. He then
drove to the TH at Twin Lakes where he did a 40mi hike to Piute Mtn the next day. Matthew seems
to enjoy suffering even more than myself. Daniel, Sam, and I went up the northwest side of the canyon
across (more) granite slabs. We started heading up the ridgeline going north for a couple
hundred feet until it looked like we could contour around to our left in a sweeping arc heading
west for a shortcut to the Snow Creek Trail. Our plan was to do a bit more cross-country in
order to reach the Snow Creek Trail which we could then follow back down to Yosemite Valley.
We could see a trail cutting the hillside far in the distance to the west,
and at first we mistook this for a trail
beyond the Snow Creek Trail. It looked too far off to be the shortcut we were looking for. It
was a mile and half off to be precise, but it seemed much further at the time. Our map was a
15-minute version that just didn't show enough clarity of the surrounding terrain to identify
it properly. After traversing nearly a half mile on granite slabs with a significant downward
slope, our ankles and feet were nearing the breaking point from having them canted at such an
angle for so long. We got off the slabs as we reached a creek originating from near Olmstead
Point, the same one that had the interesting route down to Lost Lake I had seen earlier. After
some easy walking along gentler slopes and through some forest, we emerged on a hillside
covered in thick manzanita. This began about a quarter mile of truly grueling bushwhacking.
Manzanita is one of the most inflexible of the scrub bushes, and plying one's way through it
for any length of time requires both determination and patience. Determination not to retreat
when the path in front is more of the same as far as you can see, patience to look for the
weaknesses in the route and trying different tacks when the way is forcibly blocked. The slope
we were tackling was a south-facing one, too dry to support a mature forest, and I was wishing
I had lead us along a lower route further down in the forest. But in the interest of not losing
more elevation than necessary I had chosen this bushwhack. It lasted about 20minutes, and
then almost suddenly the scrub was broken by poor soil and granite slabs that opened our route
to easy travel. We hiked down to a second creek and then up the other side, finding the
Snow Creek Trail at 2p, an hour after we'd first spied it.
Hiking along the trail was too easy after our arduous cross-country stint, and I started to
plot another diversion on our way back. It didn't take much to talk the others into a visit to
Mt. Watkins, commanding the highpoint on the northwest side of Tenaya Canyon and what should
be excellent views into the canyon below. There was little elevation gain once we left the
trail, the gentlest of gradients rising to one of the most rounded summits I've been on. For
over a mile we kept wondering when we'd reach the top, it just seemed to go on for ever.
We even walked to what we thought was the highpoint before looking further to the southwest
and seeing yet higher ground.
The view to 
Half Dome opened up as we climbed up near the top, but
though it was 
a short distance away,
smoke from a controlled fire blurred what would otherwise be a great view of the famous monument.
We had better views of 
Clouds Rest directly across the
canyon and portions of the canyon below and sections of the route we had taken. We could barely
make out Mirror Meadow through the smoke and 
the Valley itself was hidden almost completely
by the haze. We continued hiking down the southwest side from the summit for maybe three quarters
of a mile, hoping we might reach the top of Watkins Pinnacle. We found some rock outcroppings
that had a good perch and and nice views, a swell spot for a short break. We never made it to the
pinnacle, not really sure of its location.
After gathering up our less-than-willing bodies to continue on, we struck off northwest,
diagonally down on another quarter mile of yet more granite slabs. There was just no
getting enough of this terrain on this hike it would seem. We lost 1400ft going down to Snow Creek,
finding the trail again about a hundred yards north of 
the footbridge across the creek.
Shortly before we reached the trail we took another break - we were getting pretty beat. Sam
and I seemed to show the most wear, and I commented to Daniel that he just seemed to take all
the miles and elevation in stride, few comments, no complaints, and he looked like he could
go on for another 20 miles if needed. Daniel merely smiled and acknowledge that he was indeed
pretty exhausted. I didn't believe him. We
had another 2600ft of elevation to lose in about two miles, a tediously switching back trail
down to the Valley that was only made more tolerable by the sight of several backpackers
sweating profusely as they grunted their way up. Seeing them made our bodies
just a little more appreciative, and maybe just a bit less pained. We gauged our progress
in elevation loss by watching ourselves drop lower relative to 
Half Dome,
a prominent fixture
in our view nearly the whole way down. By the time we were back to the Valley, 
the road,
civilization, and our cars, it was after 5:30p, just shy of a 12hr outing.
Unloading our gear to our cars at the stables we were all beat, perhaps more than I would have liked. We had planned to climb Grizzly Peak the next day, but both Daniel and Sam were having second thoughts. Daniel decided to go home that evening, which made Sam hesitate in doing the same. Being a very good sport, he didn't want to leave me in the lurch and would have probably climbed the next day with almost no begging. But I let him off easy, saying it would be climbed another day, and I think that was a pretty good indication that I was tired myself and didn't really mind. So we concluded our adventure with a round of hearty handshakes and general praise for each other. It had been a very tough day with only short breaks and I couldn't have found a greater group of companions to join me for it. Then off we drove into the sunset (literally), heading for the Bay Area after another enjoyable weekend (even if it was cut short by a day).