That Time I Slept On A Bathroom Floor In Yosemite Valley

I'm the type of person who learns by doing. This tends to infuriate some people, but I am who I am! You can warn me that a 3-season tent (a tent not designed for the extremes of winter) won't hold up in a heavy snowstorm, but I need to live through it for myself to understand why. I need to see how long it takes to fail, how much weight finally collapses it, what I could have done to prolong or prevent it.

I need to be in the thick of it and learn the lessons through experience. And what an experience this was!

First, here's how the day started in case you missed it:

The Redemption Hike: Finishing The Upper Yosemite Falls Trail

My first attempt at finishing Upper Yosemite Falls was a confluence of wrongness. This time, I was driven to finish the breathtaking hike. Here’s my tale from the trail, along with my favorite photos.

Seasons of JasonJason Evangelho

So, let's set the stage. It's about 5pm. I've just finished my "redemption hike" at Upper Yosemite Falls, and I'm sitting at Base Camp Eatery inhaling my reward: a pepperoni pizza and a can of Half Dome Strawberry Wheat. (Pro-tip: Tioga-Sequoia Brewery beers at the Yosemite Lodge Gift Shop are cheaper than bottles of water and soda, soooooo...)

This is my final night at Camp 4, and after a handful of gloriously sunny days, the weather is finally turning. The light refreshing drizzle as I descended the mountain has transformed into a heavy downpour as buckets of rain start pelting the pavement outside.

But I expected this. In fact, it's half the reason I'm here: to give my current gear a true shakedown. I'd already tested my new crampons on the Four Mile Trail (which gave me confidence hiking through ice and light snow), but I wanted to test my tent and sleeping system during a winter storm.

I realize that sounds a bit crazy, but to me it's an adventure – and part of the learning experience. Besides, Type 2 Fun is still fun.

The timing of this trip was determined by the extended forecast, and initially my last night had a winter storm warning, but the total snowfall in Yosemite Valley was expected to be light or nonexistent, with the snow level stopping at 5500 feet.

Yosemite Valley sits at an elevation of about 4100 feet.

But during the last 48 hours the forecast had been gradually changing; the snow level creeping downward, and the total precipitation rising. I scarfed my last slice of pizza and checked it again:

Wed night: Rain before 11pm, then rain and snow between 11pm and 2am, then snow after 2am. The rain and snow could be heavy at times. Snow level 6300 feet lowering to 4000 feet after midnight . Low around 25. Southwest wind 10 to 15 mph, with gusts as high as 30 mph. Chance of precipitation is 100%. New snow accumulation of 4 to 8 inches possible.

Anxiety barged into my thoughts after reading that update. The sun was now beginning to set, and the last YARTS bus back to Merced would be long gone before I could break down camp. It was time to get stuck in and see what mother nature had in store.

9PM: Tent Waterbed

By about 9pm, my tent was turning into a waterbed. I was nervous, but confident the material would hold up. After all, it kept me dry during the rainstorm in Little Yosemite Valley last year.

"Aha, a lesson!" I thought. "Pitch it on a slight slope next time you're expecting rain." Hoping this would be the worst of my problems, I sent a request to my overstimulated imagination to calm down and let me get some sleep. I was exhausted from the hike!

I dozed for a few minutes but woke up to a distinct shift in sound. The heavy rain had turned to heavy snow. Then a more urgent issue made itself known: diarrhea. Another first in my hiking and camping adventures!

I threw my shoes on without tying them and made a mad 200-yard dash to the restroom – a luxury I was grateful for. A luxury I'd become intimately familiar with as the night wore on.

Walking back, I took a few minutes to savor the serene beauty of the snow falling onto the darkened, hushed campground.

But the anxiety returned when I saw how the bottom of my rainfly was already half buried after only 20 or 30 minutes of that beautiful white fluff. I spent a few minutes shoveling it out, wiped off the roof and sides of the tent, and nervously crawled back into my sleeping bag. If there was a positive takeaway, it's that I was still toasty warm. My Nemo bag and sleeping pad were certainly passing this test so far.

I dozed off again... scampered to the bathroom again... dusted off the tent again... dozed again... This cycle repeated for two more hours.

11:30pm: The First Collapse

Around 11:30pm, a loud noise startled me awake. Still horizontal, I raised my beanie above my eyes and a jolt of terror shot through my tired body. My tent's roof was about 2 inches from my face. I scrambled outside to survey the damage, and stood there unsure of what the hell to do next. I can't even remember what I did, aside from darting around my tent trying to undo what had happened.

I was beginning to see, firsthand, why a 3-season tent is a 3-season tent. The shape isn't curved aggressively enough to repel snowfall properly, and the aluminum poles clearly aren't strong enough to withstand the weight of sustained snowfall. Another lesson!

In an exhausted stupor, I grabbed one of my trekking poles and crawled back inside. In a futile attempt to fight back against the snow's relentless assault on my tent and my sleep, I used the cork end of my trekking poles to repeatedly smack the roof and sides of the tent from the inside. I seriously did this every 5 minutes as the intensity of the snowfall kept increasing.

This was not a sane or sustainable strategy.

And then the diarrhea came screaming back. This battle was over.

12:30am: Abandon Ship!

I hastily threw a bottle of water and all my electronics into my day pack, snatched my sleeping bag and sleeping pad, and abandoned ship. Spending the night in the bathroom was the solution to my shelter problem and my diarrhea problem, so I reluctantly embraced it.

After an hour of restlessness and mercifully quick trips to the toilet, sleep finally came. And truth be told, that few hours of sleep was borderline blissful. I was shocked at how, even as a side sleeper, I could barely feel the hard floor underneath my Nemo Switchpack pad. I swear, that thing defies the laws of physics.

I woke up to my watch's alarm at 5:30am. I had about two hours to eat, caffeinate, pack up camp, and deal with the consequences of leaving my tent unattended in a snowstorm overnight.

Curiosity propelled me quickly back to camp, and I was greeted with the above sight: my pathetic, crumpled tent under a dense mound of snow. It's hard to gauge from the image, but it was less than half its normal size. It looked utterly destroyed, and I was instantly grateful for my decision to crash in the bathroom!

Let's zoom out so I can show you how much snow fell overnight. It was so beautiful, yet equally unbelievable for mid-March in Yosemite Valley.

Believe it or not, my only regret was that I had to break camp and head home, and couldn't spend the day playing in the snow.

The Aftermath

None of my gear was outright destroyed, and by the time I dug out the collapsed mess of a tent, I was pleasantly surprised to see it (mostly) sprung back into shape, and there wasn't a drop of wetness inside.

I was able to salvage it, even though the poles are noticeably bent in multiple places. And now I'll have some unique insights when I shop for that dedicated winter (or 4-season) tent. I'll understand through first-hand experience why it'll need more guy-out points, stronger stakes, carbon fiber poles, and a geodesic shape that prevents snow accumulation.

I learn by doing... and I sure did some learning!

Now don't worry, I never would have attempted a "gear trial" like this in the wilderness. I intentionally put myself in the path of this storm at Camp 4 only because I knew there was shelter to escape to. (Granted, I didn't think I'd resort to using it!)

I'll leave you with some photos of Camp 4 after it was transformed into a winter wonderland within a matter of hours.

Happy trails,
~Jason