Clyde Minaret / Mount Ritter
Ascents of Clyde Minaret (Rock Route, class 4) and Mount Ritter (North Face, class 3), October 4-8, 2026.
Timeline:
This was my SPS list finish trip. I had been working toward this day for a long time: my first SPS peak (Clouds Rest) was climbed in July 1999, although it wasn't until the early 2010s that I decided to pursue the SPS list in earnest. After that I accelerated my peakbagging pace. In June of 2014 I climbed Banner Peak with Jerry Nickelsburg. The plan for that trip had been to climb Mount Ritter on the same day, but when we got to the top of Banner Peak and looked down upon the North Face of Mount Ritter, it seemed very snowy and very intimidating. So Mount Ritter was left for later, and as years went by, I decided it would make for a perfect list finish peak. Indeed, Mount Ritter is one of the SPS Emblem Peaks, and by everyone's account one of the most iconic summits of the Sierra Nevada. It took some fortitude to wait until the very end. Ritter is prominent from everywhere around Mammoth, and so accessible from my house there that it was tempting to deviate from the plan. But I held firm, and at the end of the summer of 2026, I was left with only two list peaks to climb: Clyde Minaret and Mount Ritter.
Many SPS list finishers end their quest on easy peaks, like Smith Mountain, Alta Peak, Clouds Rest or San Joaquin Mountain, climbed on sunny summer days with numerous friends and family members. I had plans for a much more subdued affair. The 2026 summer climbing season was coming to a close but the forecast called for excellent weather in the early days of October, so I called my friend René Renteria and he flew from San Antonio to accompany me on the two ascents. I have climbed 66 of the SPS peaks with René, more than with anyone else, and we have been climbing together since the year 2000. It seemed fitting that he would be the one to join me on these final SPS peaks.
I had to choose our route up and down Mount Ritter. Over the years, first out of curiosity and then as archivist of the Sierra Club’s Sierra Peaks Section, I had become steeped in the history of Sierra mountaineering. I had of course read John Muir's "The Mountains of California" and am even privileged to own a first edition of that book. Chapter 4 is Muir's famous narrative of his October 1872 first ascent of Mount Ritter, up the North Face and down via the Southeast Glacier route. My plan was to repeat the same ascent, 154 years later. This also led me to try to reconstruct his exact itinerary, from the head of Lyell Canyon to the summit of Mount Ritter and back, over three days from the 18th to the 20th of October, 1872 (more on this below). We also needed to climb Clyde Minaret, and to do so first. This led me to map out an elaborate plan for a loop, starting from the Minaret Lake Trail to Cecile Lake, where we would set up our first camp to climb Clyde Minaret, then move camp via the Shadow Creek Trail and the John Muir Trail to Thousand Island Lake, from which we would access the North Face of Mount Ritter.
October 4, 2026. Approach from Minaret Summit to Cecile Lake. A first difficulty was that, due to road construction, it was not possible to begin and end the trip at Devils Postpile, the natural starting point to gain Cecile Lake, at the base of Clyde Minaret. My permit was for Red Cones, but instead of starting at Horseshoe Lake, we parked at Minaret Summit. Starting our approach at 10:43, we hiked down, first on a use trail to the Mountain View Wall (a climbing area), and then cross-country through the steep forest to the banks of the San Joaquin River, joining the Pacific Crest Trail. We stopped for lunch at a trail junction just inside Devils Postpile National Monument. From there we followed the John Muir Trail to its junction with the Minaret Lake Trail, near Johnston Lake, and continued on to Minaret Lake and Cecile Lake. We were in camp at Cecile Lake at 18:07. (7:24 hours elapsed, 6:10 hours moving, 11.16 miles, 3,294 feet of elevation gain).
October 5, 2026. Ascent of Clyde Minaret. The plan for this day was to climb Clyde Minaret via the Rock Route (class 4). We left camp at 7:50 and contoured Cecile Lake on its east and north shores to gain the steep slopes on the lower northeastern side of Clyde Minaret. We aimed for a prominent snowfield (quite small in early October) that marks the start of the Rock Route. At the snowfield, René opted to go left up some blocks while I headed up steeper rock directly above the snowfield. This was a mistake, as I ended up on steep class 4 rock that spooked me a bit. We took a break at 9:24 at the location where a prominent right-leaning ramp leads to the steeper part of the route. At the base of the lower chute, René put on his rock shoes and we continued up sustained class 3 rock to a prominent gendarme to our left. The climbing is indeed quite steep and exposed — I would call this one of the classic scrambles of the High Sierra. We continued to the right of that gendarme to gentler slopes that led to a few class 3 moves and the crest. There, two climbers coming up the same route called up to ask us for some route-finding beta. Soon, we reached the 10-foot class 4 downclimb that forms the crux of the route. Our short rope came out for a quick rappel. We arrived on the summit at 11:38. We signed in, enjoyed the outstanding view, stayed on the summit for 25 minutes, and then headed down.
Going back up the class 4 step went quickly, since we had left our rope hanging from the anchor for a belay. But as we crested, I realized I had forgotten my helmet on the summit. Off I went, back down the class 4 moves, up to the summit, and back to René (this made for some nice photos of me on the summit, from a distance). We then retraced our steps to the head of the face, where we met the two climbers again: Craig and Jordan. We continued on down the face, into the lower chute, and back to the ramp and snowfield. We then tried to retrace our steps down the class 2-3 lower slopes, but could not find our morning route, and had to backtrack a few times to find easier terrain. With all the time we lost, Craig and Jordan ended up catching up with us. We stopped for snacks near a clump of trees, as they headed back to their camp at Lake Ediza. We retraced our steps around Cecile Lake, reaching our camp at 16:29. The evening was spent enjoying the outstanding views of Clyde Minaret, Mount Ritter and Banner Peak from our camp. Only one peak to go to finish the SPS list! (8:39 hours elapsed, 7:21 hours moving, 3.35 miles, 2,303 feet of elevation gain).
October 6, 2026. Cecile Lake to Thousand Island Lake. This was a quasi-rest day, as we only needed to move camp from Cecile Lake to Thousand Island Lake. As the crow flies this is not far, but staying mostly on trail requires heading down to Lake Ediza, catching the Shadow Creek Trail, then the John Muir Trail, past Garnet Lake and Ruby Lake, to finally reach Thousand Island Lake. This amounts to almost 12 miles, so not a short day by any means. There is a much shorter cross-country route over Whitebark Pass, as we would discover the next day, but with packs we chose an option with more trail travel. And we had the entire day to move camp anyway.
We left camp at 9:03 and headed down a steep chute toward Iceberg Lake. I did not remember anything special about that chute from my 2003 trip to this area, but it gave us some trouble. My best guess is that much of the terrain and use trail must have disappeared after the big winter of 2023. Be that as it may, the chute was very loose, especially with our big packs. But we made it to Iceberg Lake without too much trouble. The light was magnificent, and the views across the lake toward Clyde Minaret were outstanding (many photos were taken). There we caught a good trail to Lake Ediza, reaching it at 10:55. At the lake's outlet (Shadow Creek), we met Craig, Jordan and a third member of their party, and hiked with them for a while, chatting about Sierra peakbagging. They were headed back to Mammoth Pass and Horseshoe Lake, while we took a left turn northbound on the John Muir Trail. Soon we stopped for a leisurely lunch in the shade of some pine trees. We went up a small valley with a meadow that I remembered well from my 2021 trip with Claire from Mammoth to Yosemite. We then reached Garnet Lake. At 14:20 we stopped to filter some water and chatted briefly with a solo hiker who seemed to know a lot about the Sierra. We continued on along the John Muir Trail to Thousand Island Lake and after some searching we found a nice campsite at the far end of the northwest shore, at 17:05. (8:02 hours elapsed, 6:35 hours moving, 11.67 miles, 2,215 feet of elevation gain)
October 7, 2026. Ascent of Mount Ritter. This day would be the main event. Following John Muir’s October 19, 1872 first ascent, we would climb the North Face of Mount Ritter and descend via the Southeast Glacier route. However, unlike John Muir, we would start from Thousand Island Lake. According to my reconstruction of Muir’s first ascent, he started from Lower Marie Lake, went to the Davis Lakes and climbed over Clinch Pass. He then went down into the headwaters of the North Fork of the San Joaquin River, to Lake Catherine, to gain the North Face of Mount Ritter. Then, he came down the Southeast Glacier route, headed toward the Nydiver Lakes, where nightfall caught him. He went over Whitebark Pass toward Garnet Lake, over Garnet Pass to Thousand Island Lake, and finally over a rib south of Island Pass to the Davis Lakes, retracing his morning route past the Rodgers Lakes to regain his camp at Lower Marie Lake. Instead, we would access the North Face by going over North Glacier Pass. The rest of the climb would be identical to Muir’s, except for a shorter return, since we would stop at our camp at Thousand Island Lake.
Expecting a long day, we got up around 5:00 in the dark and left camp at 6:25, as the very first light was starting to hit Banner Peak, towering above us.
“The dawn in the dry, wavering air of the desert was glorious. Everything encouraged my undertaking and betokened success. There was no cloud in the sky, no storm-tone in the wind… How glorious a greeting the sun gives the mountains! To behold this alone is worth the pains of any excursion a thousand times over. The highest peaks burned like islands in a sea of liquid shade. Then the lower peaks and spires caught the glow, and long lances of light, streaming through many a notch and pass, fell thick on the frozen meadows.”
We headed toward North Glacier Pass.
“Arriving on the summit of this dividing crest, one of the most exciting pieces of pure wilderness was disclosed that I ever discovered in all my mountaineering. There, immediately in front, loomed the majestic mass of Mount Ritter, with a glacier swooping down its face nearly to my feet, then curving westward and pouring its frozen flood into a dark blue lake, whose shores were bound with precipices of crystalline snow; while a deep chasm drawn between the divide and the glacier separated the massive picture from everything else. I could see only the one sublime mountain, the one glacier, the one lake; the whole veiled with one blue shadow—rock, ice, and water close together without a single leaf or sign of life.”
At the pass, a hiker named Daniel DeBlauw, from Fresno, caught up with us, also aiming to climb the North Face of Ritter. He was much faster than us, and we would only cross paths with him again as he descended the North Face while we were still climbing it. We initially stayed on the western aspect of Banner Peak, on a rocky ridge. This soon pushed us down toward the glacier northwest of Mount Ritter. We came down loose scree and talus and donned our crampons for a short portion of glacier traversing. We reached the Ritter-Banner Saddle, and hiked up to a steep snowfield (almost an icefield) leading to a right-leaning ledge and the start of the North Face route. We hesitated a bit due to the steepness and hardness of the snow, but it was generously suncupped so we decided that it could be done safely with ice gear. The crampons and ice axes came out again. We made quick work of the short snow traverse, zigzagging from suncup to suncup till we reached the safety of the rocky ledge.
“I succeeded in gaining the foot of the cliff on the eastern extremity of the glacier, and there discovered the mouth of a narrow avalanche gully, through which I began to climb, intending to follow it as far as possible, and at least obtain some fine wild views for my pains. Its general course is oblique to the plane of the mountain-face, and the metamorphic slates of which the mountain is built are cut by cleavage planes in such a way that they weather off in angular blocks, giving rise to irregular steps that greatly facilitate climbing on the sheer places.”
We were now in the right-hand chute on the North Face, a class 3 climb. The rock was of superb quality, and we greatly enjoyed our climb.
“At length, after attaining an elevation of about 12,800 feet, I found myself at the foot of a sheer drop in the bed of the avalanche channel I was tracing, which seemed absolutely to bar further progress… After gaining a point about halfway to the top, I was suddenly brought to a dead stop, with arms outspread, clinging close to the face of the rock, unable to move hand or foot either up or down. My doom appeared fixed. I must fall. There would be a moment of bewilderment, and then a lifeless rumble down the one general precipice to the glacier below.”
As we were about to reach the Northwest Ridge, Daniel came down to head toward Banner Peak. We chatted a bit and went our separate ways. We headed over broken class 2 rock to a left-leaning ledge (some class 3) that led to the Northeast Ridge and the summit. We paused a bit to take in this moment: I was just about to finish the SPS list, and I can’t say it was entirely without emotion. René stood back a bit while I made for the summit. It was an incredible moment that I will not soon forget!
“Above this memorable spot, the face of the mountain is still more savagely hacked and torn. It is a maze of yawning chasms and gullies, in the angles of which rise beetling crags and piles of detached boulders that seem to have been gotten ready to be launched below. But the strange influx of strength I had received seemed inexhaustible. I found a way without effort, and soon stood upon the topmost crag in the blessed light. How truly glorious the landscape circled around this noble summit!—giant mountains, valleys innumerable, glaciers and meadows, rivers and lakes, with the wide blue sky bent tenderly over them all.”
We reached the summit at 11:50, in perfect Sierra weather. The light was crisp in the October air, and we basked in the moment. We departed at 12:23, heading down the talus slope that leads to the Southeast Glacier. The descent was more involved than we had been led to believe, mostly because from above it is not always clear where the route goes (we followed what Secor calls the Maloy Variation). But we made no major mistakes, and reached the base of the mountain at 15:40. Our plan was to head back up to the Nydiver Lakes and from there cross Whitebark Pass.