Have you ever had a day in the mountains so perfect you forgot that you were doing something difficult? Perhaps the weather was just right, maybe you met some cool new friends, or perhaps you satisfied your desire to complete a certain route. Well, for my day on Father Dyer, it was all three.
If you’re not questioning why you like to wake up at an ungodly hour to subject yourself to intense physical torture at high altitudes, then you aren’t doing it right.
There’s a special breed who live for dawn. While you’re asleep we tip-toe out of bed. We yearn for the unspeakable hour. A 2am wakeup call means nothing. There’s anticipation in the air when we lace up our boots by headlamp; our foggy breath obscuring our vision. A morning cup of joe high in the mountains sounds like the perfect coffee date. Nothing beats skiing a fresh line of powder shortly after sunrise. The pyramid shadow of the mountain points us to the next horizon. We live by the sun. We are dawn patrol.
There’s an easy way and a hard way up Guyot. We decided to take the challenging route up the east ridge. Class 2+ and 3 scrambles gaining 1,800′ in a little more than a mile. Nothing quite says leg burn like a steep uphill rock scramble.