That’s Half Dome in Yosemite pictured above. I chose not to climb it as I did not feel like getting a permit to climb a cable ladder with someone’s ass in my face. If (when) someone’s ass will be in my face, I like to choose the ass owner.
The truth was I did not do many hikes with big elevation gains. I was already camping at 7000 feet and I had trouble catching my breath when I pushed myself.
The first day I acclimated myself to the altitude with simple sight seeing jaunts.
Here’s El Jefe (me) with El Capitane (rock).
I would not recommend camping in Yosemite. Despite it being one of the largest parks in the US, the campsites are small and there is no definition between sites (drunk neighbors treat your site as their own). Also, the constant cleaning to keep the bears away is exhausting. You can’t keep anything, even unopened food or drink, in your car because bears will bust out a window. Everything, I mean everything, goes in your personal bear proof locker. Even your toothpaste and flavored condoms.
What I suggest is a room at the Ahwahnee Grand Hotel in the Yosemite Vally.
After a particularly grueling hike, I dragged my oxygen deprived carcass to this beautiful old lodge, used their bathroom to “wash” and threw on a clean shirt so I’d look like I belong. Very civilized having a glass of prosecco on the deck surrounded by the granite hills. Altitude sickness is a great money saver because I was on-my-ass-drunk with one glass.