by Dr Stone.

Come the weekend, Martin was not in situ. Apparently, none of the half dozen messages I had left made it to him. On Saturday I delayed departure from San Francisco in case he called but finally we had to leave at 11:30am. This was a great disappointment, not just because we were deprived of Dr Beale's bon viveur repartee, but also because that "bold and slick" first pitch now was inevitably mine to lead (my mate Scott only ever gets to climb when I'm over on trips so it would hardly be fair to point him at the potential whippers). On the other hand, you have less than eleven hours of daylight in late October and a party of three on Snake Dike would have been uncomfortable and much slower (about half our descent was in the dark anyway).

We drove up to Yosemite and left the Happy Iisles parking lot at 4pm. On board were the rack, the rope and full bivvy gear i.e. groundsheet, sleeping bags and a six pack of beer. We flogged up the mist trail to Vernal Falls. I've seen them in full flow and they're quite a sight. On this occasion they were just trickle but there were still a bunch of american tourists pronouncing them "awesome".

About quarter of a mile past the top of Vernal falls, just after you cross a bridge, it's possible to head off left into the trees towards a scree filled canyon which heads up to a notch between Mt Broderick and Liberty Cap. This is the fabled "short cut" to Snake Dike. A vague path up the scree is cairned and we laboured up it, ploughing through mesquite bushes which, we were to find out later, neatly punctured Scott's therm-a-rest.

The screes finish at the mouth of the notch which turns out to be a half mile long canyon with an ill-defined trail through it. Stay to the left would be my advice to anyone else trying the "short cut", and I'd tell you what compass point that corresponds to if I had any idea, which I don't. After a few more tussles with mesquite bushes we emerged at Lost Lake ( a dried up marsh ) in front of the gigantic south face of Half Dome. It was 6:30pm and almost dark. A good trail runs alongside Lost Lake and we turned left onto it, keen to find a bivvy site. After about three hundred yards we passed a cairn which I guessed marked the way up towards the base of Snake Dike. A massive full moon was just rising and illuminating the whole south face. I suddenly heard myself describing this to Scott as "awesome".

We carried on along the trail about another hundred yards and found a sandy platform to bivvy on. We lit a fire to increase the number of park regs we were breaking ( we had no wilderness pass, no firearms, no navigational sense ). After chugging a few beers Scott tried to inflate his therm-a-rest. Mine ( actually Scott's *other* therm-a-rest ) went up a treat but his wouldn't hold air. I half-heartedly offered to swap - "Scott, if you really *need* it, you could have mine and I'll just make do, what with my bad back and my hurty shoulder and all." Scott said he'd be ok. I felt no guilt.

After we turned in, Scott had some trouble getting off to sleep so I began telling him "check it out, there's Jupiter in opposition, *and* at perihelion this very night, and hey, look up there at Betelgeuse top left star in Orion, that's a red giant that is, bigger than the orbit of mars, a dying star, and wow look there near Orion's belt, that's m42, a nebula, visible as such to the naked eye etc etc etc". Scott was soon snoring soundly. I heard a sound and started worrying about bears but the next thing I know it's 6:30am and I'm waking up uneaten. The sky is starting to brighten but the sun doesn't hit half dome until 7:30. When it does I once again utter the adjective "awesome". I'm getting very dull these days.

We breakfasted on power bars and water. Too much of our water. We'd regret that later. We racked up and stashed our sacks near the cairn marking the way up to the base of Snake Dike. It took us more than half an hour to walk up to the start of the route. Three hours from the valley floor trailhead would be a pretty fast time, although I'd add 10 minutes per six pack. Anyway, we were first on the route, which was all that mattered.

I started off up an easy flake crack and just where it ended I got a good nut in. I stepped up and out onto the "bold and slick" friction traverse to the left. Uh oh, a patch of orange shiny rock was in the way. My feet didn't seem to stick to this too well and no amount of inner "it's only 5.7" mutterings would help. I looked up at the overhang. it looked like I could climb up and place an alien, clip it with a long sling and then effectively be top-roped for the first moves on to the slab. But scott, seconding, would be faced with a massive swing after he unclipped. The wise leader always considers his second. "Sod scott," I thought, and moved up and placed the piece. I descended and sketched across the slab up to the left hand end of the overhang, where I placed a nut with great relief. Only 5.7 but I was feeling stressed. "These Yosemite 5.7s," I began muttering to myself. The fact is, my footwork is totally crap and no amount of trips to the Bristol wall can fix it.

As I pulled through the overhang I received the massive rope drag I had earned through my cowardly gear placement but soon arrived at a spacious ledge. Scott came up unscathed and I set off up pitch two. This was easy work, and you could lace it with big cams, but you won't have any with you because the guide says "just a few small to medium nuts" (Personally I was glad to have three aliens on board, all of which I used at some point). Meanwhile, I was determined to pitch the route the way the guide says - the way 50 classic climbs says. We did the same on east buttress of middle cathedral and it's the righteous thing to do. I'm sure dr beale agrees with me on this. So I took a hanging belay at the end of pitch two and brought Scott up.

At this point a party of three arrived at the base below us. Two disinterested looking women and a guy in a floppy beany hat. The guy calls up at us "what route are you on?" Which is about as dumb a question as you'll ever hear. So I shouted down "Snake Dike." He shouts back "Are you sure?" I patiently reply "yes." He shouts up that he's tried it twice before but always backed off at a point just above us, clearly off the route by a mile. We return to the task in hand. pitch 3 is another sketchy 5.7. You get to a bolt half-way across though, and it's only about forty feet. I made the moves leftwards to the dike and looked upwards trying to guess if we had enough rope to make it to the third belay. I immediately abandoned the righteous method and took a hanger right there and brought Scott across. I was sure he was going to pop just after he unclipped the mid way bolt because I could see his shoes sliding, but he made it through and joined me at the belay (our third, marked as alternate second on the topo). Quite a show is going on below now - beany hat has cheated his way up past a tree to the right of the route and strapped himself to an old stump about level with the overhang. It isn't clear what he plans to do from here but I ignore a shout from him in case he wants help.

Pitch four is the for us the first up the dike proper. It's fantastic. Easy but absorbing. About Severe, but a hundred and twenty feet with one bolt for pro. A grommet stresser again. I imagine a sixty metre rope would make it from the second belay to the topo third, but our short fifty never would have. Scott comes up swiftly and we drink some water. A party of two in matching red helmets has got to the base and bypassed Mr Beany. The red helmets are carrying their large rucksacks up the route but seem to be making rapid progress.

You don't waste much time placing gear on the next pitch either. There's a bolt at midway, plus I tied off a knob and it's a full fifty metre rope length. But again it's easy work just moving up the nubbins on the fantastic dike. The belay is a bit more spacious here although still a hanger.

At this point there seem to be two ways to go. The main dike goes straight up, but a subsidiary dike also goes just to the left. There was a dab of chalk on the main dike so that was the way I went and it was another great pitch. Looking at the topo again and knowing what I know now I think the original line is the left hand one because it goes past a bolt which I couldn't clip from my chosen line. So perhaps I avoided the 5.6 section. Either way it was still an easy but spectacular pitch.

The next pitch is only 5.3 and the climbing is really easing off. It finishes with a short pull up onto a pinnacle marking the end of the dike. At last a comfortable sitting belay. Scott came on up and led through the final couple of pitches. The angle now eased off and we plodded up the slanting moonscape of half dome's south west brow. We did the obligatory sticking of heads over the edge of the beak, which overhangs the face by at least twenty feet. It's an "awesome" sight looking down the north face. Then a scamper down the cables (hand over hand) and a contour down round the base of half dome got us back to our stashed gear and not enough water. Reversing our "short cut" route was easier and there's a cairn to show where you move left up onto ledges to avoid walking over a cliff. We descended the scree and emerged onto the main trail where assorted tourists were wandering around lost in the dusk. Tired and dehydrated now, we settled into the plod back down to the valley. There's drinkable water at the junction of the mist trail and Glacier Point trail and I took on about a gallon. In case you are interested, I was producing quite spectacular phleghm at this point.

We reached the car at 7:30pm and were in the Mountain Room by 7:32. The delay was due to parking difficulties. My tongue absorbed the first glass of Guinness before it reached my throat and the second didn't get much further than my larynx but it was time to drive back to San Francisco. In a stupendous effort, Scott stayed awake the whole drive and even treated me to a Wendy's veggie deluxe in Oakdale.

• Snake Dike, 5.7, ***
• 8 or 9 pitches.
• Excellent bivvy near base.
• Should be on everyone's list.