My hoped-for encounter with Mt. Hoffmann in Yosemite National Park did not occur exactly as I expected. It wasn’t that I did not make advanced plans. I did. I had secured a hard-earned wilderness permit to Yosemite’s backcountry for four nights, I had all the necessary equipment and food supplies as evidenced by my bulging backpack, and I had reviewed safety issues regarding lightning strikes given that the tail end of the monsoon season continued to impact Yosemite with afternoon thunderstorms. Additionally, I possessed all of the necessary maps to guide me on the trip. What could go wrong with that kind of preparation?
Consequently, my friend and I had no reason to expect not to climb Mt. Hoffmann, an important part of our itinerary. We would simply hike the easy 1.2-mile (1.6 km), gently rising trail to the May Lake Backpacker’s Campground. Then, we would select our campsite, set up our tents, and squeeze in a “leisurely” stroll up Mt. Hoffmann’s eastern flank. Once reaching its summit, we would grab an “autograph,” so to speak (i.e., a few pictures to document our achievement), and then hurry back down to enjoy dinner and a goodnight’s rest. What could be so hard about that?
In retrospect, my causal attitude about the short 1 ¾-mile (2.3 km) hike to Mt. Hoffmann certainly needed an adjustment. Still, reasons did exist for my easygoing approach toward the climb. Although Mt. Hoffmann stands out mightily in the sky at 10,853 feet in elevation (3,308 m), its height does not rank among the “elite” peaks in Yosemite. I suppose you could say I considered reaching its top more like getting an autograph from a minor league baseball player than securing a highly valued signature from a big-leaguer during an intense playoff run.
Plus, much of the elevation gain required to reach Mt. Hoffmann’s peak is completed before one’s trek even begins! For example, the May Lake Trailhead starts at the 8,860-foot marker (2,701 m) and you can get there by automobile (a few miles off Tioga Road before reaching Olmstead Point). It’s almost like cheating in terms of mountain climbing! Once you complete the easy hike to May Lake, you are already standing at 9,329 feet (2,844 m) above sea level! That leaves only 1,500 feet (457 m) in elevation gain for the remaining 1 ¾-miles (2.8 km) to complete one’s conquest of this “minor league” summit.
Compare that to some of the “big league” summits in Yosemite. According to peakbagger.com, 60 peaks exceed 11,000 feet (3,353 m) in elevation within Yosemite’s boundaries. Additionally, the top three “superstars,” Mt. Lyell, Mt. Dana, and Kuna Peak, all exceed 13,000 feet (3,962 m) in height. Those are some heavy hitters! So, one can see how “squeezing” in a quick trip to Mt. Hoffmann’s summit could be taken for granted.
Don’t get me wrong, Mt. Hoffmann does have its own drawing power. What minor leaguer doesn’t? In fact, it finds itself strategically centered within Yosemite’s boundaries at the geographic middle point. This affords the mountain climber a striking 360-degree view of the Park, making many of those elite 11,000+ mountain peaks noted above viewable along the crest of the Sierra Nevada Mountain Range. Other impressive views of some of Yosemite’s iconic landmarks can also be viewed from its sweeping southward views, such as Half Dome, Cloud’s Rest, and Cathedral Peak.
Those who have hiked to the top of Mt. Hoffmann also report the unforgettable views of May Lake as it sparkles below, positioned seemingly in the bosom of Mt. Hoffmann. It’s no wonder George Hoffmann, the famous topographer for whom the peak is named, affectionately affixed the name “May” to this sublime alpine body of water. His fiancé at the time, Lucy Mayotta Browne, could take no offense at hearing such a designation on her behalf for the beauty the Lake represents.
May Lake does indeed sparkle as my friend and I would soon discover. At the halfway point from the trailhead to the Lake, a light rain, monsoonal moisture leftover from Hurricane Kay that had swept up from Mexico’s Baja peninsula, began falling on us (see picture below).
About an eighth of a mile from May Lake, we encountered a Ranger who indicated that a 70% chance of rain had been forecasted and that the light rain falling upon us confirmed that prognostication. Cloud breaks revealed moments of sunshine which buoyed our hopes for a relatively dry evening that would minimally impact our equipment.
By the time we reached May Lake at about 2 pm, a brief pause in the rain allowed us to view the Lake up close. A beauty indeed. In addition to May Lake’s picturesque setting, the Campground also presented ample campsites to allow for comfortable “lodging.” Surprisingly, aside from my friend and me, the campground was vacant. We easily found tent sites and began setting up.
Halfway through the process, white, crystal-like stones bounced around the ground and off our tents. I didn’t remember the Ranger mentioning anything about hail! The falling ice intensified. That would have been okay as we could just brush off the hail from our tents. Unfortunately, the hail turned to rain. It got worse. Much worse. I won’t say “the floodgates of the heavens burst open,” lest you think I am exaggerating, but “deluge” would not be far off the mark.
This rain may not have been a hurricane, but its volume of water and staying power left no doubt that’s where it emanated from. And so, we waited and waited, standing under a few trees, ponchos protecting us somewhat as the “floodwaters” rose. Our tents turned into soppy wet noodles. Unnamed creeks suddenly appeared here and there pushing their way through the campground and our campsite. Some pooled into mini lakes, while others moved debris downward toward the Lake. This was no “minor league” storm.
Meanwhile, the jagged ridges of Mt. Hoffmann loomed above us, always in our line of vision should we wish to look that way. It kept me aware that this mountain and its Lake had the home-field advantage. They were going nowhere. Our desire to now leave the confines of this “ballpark” highlighted our “visitor” status. Lightning flashed around us like millions of LED lights on a scoreboard processing another 15-run inning by the home team. The incessant clapping of thunder seemingly in favor of the locals assured us we had entered a big-time “stadium.”
When the rain finally stopped, we canceled our “game plan" to get a signature and hiked back to the car. I took my changed attitude with me. Despite my preparation, I had neglected to recognize the power that accompanies the presence of a big-time mountain peak and the hiking challenge that may come with it, no matter what the reason. Next time, I will not take such a casual attitude when planning to hike any of Yosemite’s 10,000+ foot peaks. No, I will be far more serious on my next “turn at bat.” I will remember that, in the big leagues, home-field advantage matters.
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Video Below: Hail transitioning to rain on September 12, 2022.
Shortly after, torrential rains followed.
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