One afternoon, I opened my phone to a text from a friend asking if I’d like to join her for a weekend camping trip in Yosemite Village.

I jumped at the opportunity. Does anyone ever pass up the chance to camp in Yosemite?

I suppose some people do, but I wasn’t about to. I’d only been to the national park once before and we hadn’t even been able to secure a camping spot in the park itself. Instead, we’d awoken at sunrise to drive from our campsite at the Clark Fork campground in the Stanislaus National Forest, hike Yosemite Falls, and then scurry back to the city.

I couldn’t wait to actually camp in Yosemite.

But, of course, there was a catch… 

The camping trip would involve a hike.

And not just any hike.

My friend had secured a permit for a small group of us to hike Half Dome.

I hesitated at the thought. I could barely handle the ~2 mile Stairway to Heaven hike… how in the world was I supposed to manage a 14- to 17-mile hike??

Not to mention my fears about keeping up with my friend and her roommate/coworker, both of whom were ultra runners. In case the title is unfamiliar to you, this means that they both chose to run 26+ miles regularly… for fun…

I, on the other hand, often found myself arguing with San Francisco’s topography whenever faced with any type of incline… 

Half Dome would be the longest hike I’d ever done AND I would be attempting it alongside the most active people I knew.

Both facts should have deterred me. However, the draw of Yosemite was too strong, and I decided to commit to the weekend.

After work the following Friday, I packed a duffle, strapped on my hiking boots, and caught BART to my friend’s office in the Mission.

Our camping group consisted of myself, my friend, and three of her coworkers.

I threw my duffle into the back of the car as the rest of the crew trickled into the garage from their office one by one. We piled into my friend’s Subaru (because of course she drives a Subaru) and started our journey to Yosemite.

Arriving in Yosemite Village

When we arrived in Yosemite Village, it was time to find our tent in Curry Village—luckily these glamping tents are set-up year round, so I didn’t have a repeat of the Angel Island fiasco—and get to sleep. We had an early start the next day. Our goal was to wake up at 3am in order to start the hike before sunrise.

Is it just me or is it nearly impossible to fall asleep when you know there’s an early wakeup call the next day? It’s like my brain can’t handle the pressure. It churns and churns. I end up spending so much time thinking about falling asleep that I can’t actually fall asleep.

At some point, I did manage to nod off because I remember when all of our alarms went off the next day. It was FAR too early to be awake, and yet there we all were.

The birds had yet to chirp as we dressed, packed our day packs, tried to stomach some oatmeal, brushed our teeth, and chugged as many cups of instant coffee as possible.

Then it was time to turn our headlamps on and start the hike. 

The 3 am Start to the Half Dome Hike in Yosemite

There is something magical about starting a hike this way. I love the intimacy of a small group, trudging in the dark with only the glow of headlamps illuminating small pockets in front of you. You’re exhausted but a low buzz of adrenaline pulses between all of you. Hazy morning expectations shimmer in your minds. 

There’s also a humble silence that early in the morning. No one is ready to speak yet. Instead, you’re satisfied listening to the sound of your boots on the pavement and, later, crunching into the soil of the trail.

At this point in our journey, I felt prepared. I felt excited.

Of course, we hadn’t even reached the trailhead yet…

Hiking Half Dome: The Start - Up to Vernal Fall

We walked ¾ of a mile from Curry Village to the trailhead.

We took the Mist Trail to Vernal Fall. Though paved, it was already steeper than I’d imagined it would be. Not a great sign… 

Things did not get easier as we continued on.

I’m not sure what I was expecting, but it certainly wasn’t step after step of carved stone stairs with an old iron hand rail. Yet that’s exactly what I found myself on. My heart thundered in my chest as I pulled my body up each and every step. What was this sick stone Stairmaster?!

Oh, god. This is just the beginning? I thought to myself. Was it too soon to turn around? 

I weighed my options: admit that I was not ready for this or continue on and risk dying on this trail.

After one of the group members passed back a caffeine gel, I decided I would risk it and carry on.

We reached the top of Vernal Falls and I could finally lift my eyes from the stone stairs to take in the nature around me. The sun had begun to warm the sky and the lovely light of dawn was slowly waking our eyes to the trees, roots, and water around us.

“This is where some people end their hike,” one member of my group laughed.

“Can you imagine if we just stopped here?” Another commented.

YESS! Yes, I can! I wanted to cry, but instead shook my head and stood with my hands on my hips, praying my heart would slow.

Unfortunately, it didn’t have much of a chance as our respite ended and we began the next portion of the hike. 

Hiking Half Dome: Part Two - The hike to Nevada Falls

With a full day of hiking ahead of us, it was crucial that we continue on in order to avoid a dark hike back to the base.

The hike to Nevada Falls is around two miles. It consists of a trail through a forest as well as… you guessed it… more stairs.

Was any part of the hike NOT going to be some steep ascent?? I wondered desperately to myself.

Winding our way up along the trails and stairs, we finally reached the top of this section. The rest of the group was well ahead of me, but when I caught up, I stood with my hands once again on my hips. A member of our group who was sitting on a rock turned to me.

“You’re doing so well,” he said, “you don’t seem to need any rest.”

Was this guy fucking with me or something?

The truth was, I never seemed to need rest because I was always playing catch up. By the time I reached the rest of the group, they’d already had their downtime and were ready to start hiking again, so I simply kept walking with them rather than sitting down for a break.

I also didn’t have the heart to tell them that if I sat down, I would not be standing up again.

To my sweet, sweet relief, the trail evened out after the climb up to Nevada Falls.

Of course, this didn’t offer my mind (or my body) a chance to feel at ease.

“This is the last of the flat ground,” my friend warned, “so enjoy it.”

I wanted to lay down on that ground. To prostrate myself against its level surface and thank the Yosemite gods for creating this section of the trail. Instead, I nodded and acted as though the thought of another climb didn’t fill every ounce of my being with dread.

We ran into some backpackers during this part of the hike and I gaped at them without any shame. The thought of hiking this trail with a fully packed backpack made my legs start to tremble.

Passing them, we walked slowly through this part of the trail, and I was grateful. Not only because I was able to catch my breath, enjoying maneuvering around rocks and roots, but also because we were able to chat and catch up, all while taking in the beautiful scenery around us.

However, as I’d been warned, this setting would not last…

Hiking Half Dome: Part Three - The Hike to the Subdome

There’s a hike on Oahu (the Makapuu Tide Pools Hike) that we call “Mordor” based on its steep cliff face and the way it mimics the hellish landscape in Lord of the Rings.

The path to the Subdome looks more like the Elvish city of Rivendell, steps carved into pale granite with pockets of green shrubbery and trees that stretch up toward a shockingly blue sky.

However, this elegance is a charade. 

The steady climb might as well be Mordor because it feels like you’re going to die at any moment. Up and up and up, switching back as you wind your way to the top. We would pause at almost every switchback, catching our breath and sipping on water.

Reaching the base of Half Dome

We reached the base of Half Dome and I could feel dizziness take hold. 

Whether it was from lactic acid build-up, altitude, exhaustion, or dehydration (or all of the above)—I was not feeling well.

Looking up at the rock face of Half Dome, I almost laughed.

There were two things I knew:

First, I would not be making the climb up the cables to the top of the rock.

Second, I was going to vomit. Preferably somewhere out of sight, but if I had to, I’d do it right there in front of all the other hikers.

Hoping to delay the inevitable, I lay down and closed my eyes.

Three out of the five in our hiking group put on gloves. They would use these to grip the cables that were strewn down the side of the rocky surface in front of them (the ladder was down this time of year, so you had to climb with just the cables). They walked to the base and prepared themselves to make the ascent.

One other member of our group decided to stay back with me. I selfishly wished that he would change his mind and join the others so that I could puke in secrecy, but he simply lay down next to me on the rocks.

My stomach gurgled. I closed my eyes again.

Luckily for me, I was able to hold onto some of my dignity because he fell asleep, napping peacefully as our friends made their way up the rocky face of Half Dome. 

It was my chance! 

I shot up and walked with purpose around the side of the mountain where some trees offered me some privacy from the other hikers who were giddy after making the long trek, staring at the expansive views of the park from where they stood at the Subdome. 

I vomited.

Then I sat down and took a moment to appreciate the banks of trees and distant mountaintops visible from this altitude.

Then I vomited again.

I felt better after that. I made my way back to where I had been lying down and lay down again. Closing my eyes, I drifted off to sleep in the sun.

When I woke up, I was feeling good. Far better than I’d felt all day. I could see the three other group members slowly making their way back down the face of Half Dome, standing to the side to let others pass, moving carefully while holding onto the cables. 

They were exuberant upon their return and the energy was contagious. We snapped a few photos together before it was time to head back down the way we’d come. 

The way down was definitely easier. Though we were exhausted from the all-day climb up the mountain, we felt accomplished and happy as we retraced our steps. Careful not to let my knees to buckle, I was pleased to be able to chat without feeling like I was wasting precious oxygen.

Delirium Back in Yosemite: The Part Where We Just Wanted Pizza

Arriving back down in Yosemite, we made our way to the village for some food. 

We took a moment to glance back at the monstrous, yet now familiar, face of Half Dome from the parking lot. There is no other way for me to describe the moment than euphoric. 

Then the hunger kicked in.

My friend (a devout vegan) had packed a giant quinoa salad for us, but the smell of pizza weaseled its way into the hearts, stomachs, and minds of the rest of us. 

To our HORROR, the line for those saucy pies wrapped around the Village and we learned it would be two hours if we wanted a slice for ourselves. We physically could not bear this wait time. Our bodies had an hour left tops before they demanded we crash onto our cabin beds.

Grabbing beers instead, we went into the dining hall where we sat and enjoyed the hoppy taste.

At this point, we were delirious. 

Delirious enough to try to start playing a card game. It was complete chaos as our foggy minds slipped from the rules as fast as they were explained. 

That’s when we spotted it. A pizza on the table next to us. 

How desperate we must have been to think that it was available; that it didn’t belong to the two people sitting at the table with it. I suppose we couldn’t comprehend how anyone could be sitting near a pizza at this point without eating it.

One of us cracked and stood up.

“I’m going to ask them for it,” he said.

We looked up at him. Were we awed or appalled by his decision??

He walked over to them.

“Is that your pizza?” He asked, reaching for a slice.

“Yeah…” They replied, staring at him like he was a crazy person.

He stood awkwardly for a moment while the rest of us laughed hysterically at the interaction, but deep down, we were on his side. Those other people… they just didn’t get it.

Of course he was crazy. We all were. Why else would we have forced our bodies up a mountain for fifteen hours? Why else would we have started a hike at 3 am? Why else would I already be thinking about someday trying it again—and this time making it to the top?

Yes, we were all definitely crazy.

But is that so bad?

I think we crazy ones tend to have the most fun.

What do you think?

Have you had a chance to visit Yosemite?

Have you hiked Half Dome?

What was your favorite part?