You don’t need a weatherman to know which way the wind blows. - Bobby D.

By the time we had stashed the keys and shouldered our packs, it was the typical David start; crack of 5:30 P.M. We had to stop off at the Grill so David could get one last cheeseburger under his belt, and ended up just hanging around the Meadows before taking off. We parked the car at the turnout for Cathedral Lakes and sauntered up the trail.

Our goal for the three day trip was a traverse of Matthes Crest, a beautiful fin of rock in the Cathedral Peak area. On various other trips David and I had climbed or scrambled to the summits of all the other major features of the area, but had never attempted this last great line. The route was said to be one of the classic lines in the whole Sierra, and we were both looking forward to it. It had the additional benefit that camping was banned in and around Budd Lake (our destination), so we figured we would have a great place to bivvy, and the whole thing to ourselves.

We arrived at the saddle between Budd Lake and Cathedral Peak in the darkness. The hike in was the kind David always enjoyed. There was only a slight climber’s trail, and most of the walking was on glacial polished granite slabs. As the sun set and the sky filled with evening light, we gained the last bit of ridge and watched the tip of Cathedral Peak change from brown to white to grey.

The next morning we geared up for the climb. We were a bit weary of leaving all our food, so that went into the pack along with the rope, rack, and our jackets. The traverse was best from south to north, so we had a bit of walking to reach the far end of Matthes. The day was clear and warm. We were optimistic that we could knock the peak off by the afternoon. That would give us time to move our camp closer to Cathedral Peak and climb it the following day. Two of the best climbs in Yosemite in one quick trip would make quite a story.

The climb started off with three moderate crack pitches. It was beautiful climbing on perfect granite. David followed and had the disadvantage of carrying the pack of food. We decided to eat some to lighten the load once we hit the ridge proper. It did not disappoint. The ridge was knife-edged as advertised, and went on forever. We wound our way forward, sometimes climbing large blocks, other times rappelling from them. We were on the north side of the ridge for a while, and other times had to cross over to the south side. We went unroped for long sections, and tied in when the going got steeper. It was a magical journey with hundreds of feet of exposure on either side of our feet. The views were incredible in all directions as we gazed from peak to peak in a three hundred sixty degree panorama.

We took our time, often stopping to rest and take our shoes off or have a quick snack, but mostly to enjoy the surroundings. As we climbed we watched huge thunderheads begin to build and move in our direction. We weren’t too worried, as there seemed to be many places to drop off the ridge if a storm hit. Besides, the climb truly was a classic and we were having a glorious day.

Matthes Crest is about 11,000 feet and as close to a triangular ridge as you can get. We were about two thirds of the way finished when the first lightning strike hit, and the first thunder crashed. Not the ideal place to be. We found a break on the southern side of the fin and set up a rappel just as the rain began to fall. We needed to be off the ridge line fast as the storm was coming in right on top of us. By the time we were scrambling down the side of the crest, the hail began. It was getting colder fast and we just made it into the trees as the worst of the storm passed over us. We knew we couldn’t make it back to camp, so we hunkered down in our soaking wet jackets to wait it out. David picked a tree to sit underneath, and I lay down under a huge, low lying limb about ten yards away. The hail was the size of golf balls and the hair on our bodies was standing up from the electricity. The crashes of lightning were right beside us and we could smell the ozone in the air. The noise of the thunder was as loud as I have ever heard. The wind was whipping all around us and the temperature was still plummeting. David and I were shouting to be heard over the storm, trying to decide to wait it out, or make a run for it.

After about thirty minutes, it began to ease up. We made a mad dash for the tent, hoping it was still standing. It was, and laughing and shivering with the joy of survival, we jumped inside and got into some dry clothes. The wind picked up and the rain fell for another hour or so. Nothing to do but sit it out and eat the rest of our waterlogged tortillas and cheese.

Then, the miraculous. As the storm began to lift, David and I witnessed a light show like no other. The sky was changing colors by the minute and the light made the peaks glow like golden domes. Throw in a rainbow or two, or three, and the scene was complete and magnificent. Neither of us said much. We just kept loading our cameras and firing off shot after shot. We both joked that these were indeed the cover shots for our first published photography books. The light seemed to ebb and flow, giving us different shades of color, and offering us the most dramatic landscapes imaginable. When we finally went back into the tent after dark, we talked and talked about the climb and about the most glorious storm we had ever witnessed.

Our last day was spent drying out and heading back to the car. I don’t think it ever occurred to us to go back and finish the climb or to go over to Cathedral and climb it. We knew that what had happened was a once-in-a-lifetime experience and that there was not one good reason to tamper with it. Two of my favorite shots of David came on this trip. One is of him coiling rope on the top of the crest, and the other is of him walking away the next morning. These shots always make me think of all the adventures we shared, and seem to me to be the essence of who he was and what he will always mean to me.

I have gone back to Cathedral many times since this trip, both with David and without him. Every time I have covered this ground I have always raved about THE storm and about THE light to whomever I was with. Cathedral Peak was Susan’s and my first “big climb” together It is a very special place for me. I have even hiked a rope in to Matthes Crest, but without David, it just didn’t seem right to climb it.. I have never touched its stone again . Now, I don’t know if I ever will.