The 1977 Yosemite Dope Lake incident
Every now and then, you come across a story that feels more like a fairytale than real life. And along the long, winding trail of climbing mythology, a few tales stand out - not for superhuman feats of endurance, but for their sheer surrealism. Chief among them is the most infamous, far-fetched, and mind-blowing story of them all: the Yosemite airplane crash of 1977, better known as Dope Lake.
Ask anyone about Dope Lake and you’ll get a different version of the story. But here are the facts: in the dead of winter, a Beechcraft twin-engine plane - crammed to the wings with Mexican red-hair marijuana - lost its bearings in a snowstorm and crashed into the frozen expanse of Yosemite’s Lower Merced Pass Lake. The wreck sat quietly beneath the ice, holding not only the bodies of the two pilots but an estimated 6,000 pounds of weed, shrink-wrapped and waiting.
Word didn’t take long to travel. News of the crash filtered through the trees and into Camp 4 - the infamous stomping ground of Yosemite’s dirtbag climbers, who spent their days scaling granite walls and their nights dodging Park Rangers. Suddenly, a new kind of expedition presented itself.
Allegedly tipped off by a radio call relayed by a climber’s Park Ranger girlfriend, a small group of dirtbags set out on the initial hike to the crash site. What they found was nothing short of a miracle: a plane embedded in a frozen lake, surrounded by bales of high-grade hash. They hauled back as much as they could carry and made their way - slowly and carefully - back to Camp 4.
Their return sparked something close to a second Gold Rush. Word spread like wildfire, and soon climbers from across the region were making pilgrimages to Dope Lake - some reportedly bringing chainsaws to cut through the ice and free the bales. Supposedly, some dirtbags walked away from the affair with their pockets well-lined, and there are rumours - unsubstantiated, of course - that this is how Yvon Chouinard got Patagonia off the ground. Not saying we buy that… but it's a good story.
The product itself, by all accounts, was absurdly potent. Joints were known to singe eyebrows on lighting, thanks to jet fuel soaking into the bales during the crash.
Sadly, though, the high times didn’t last. Eventually, the DEA caught wind of the operation and shut it down. But by then, the legend had taken root. Dope Lake became climbing folklore - a hazy crossroads of wilderness, rebellion, and wild opportunity. Slogan tees appeared, emblazoned with: “I got mine at Lower Merced Pass.” The tale even helped inspire the 1993 musclebound mountain thriller Cliffhanger - well worth a watch, by the way.
Stories like Dope Lake don’t come around often. And to us, they represent the raw, unpredictable magic of the outdoors. One day you’re climbing El Capitan; the next, you're hauling 30 kilos of jet-fuel-steeped weed out of a frozen lake.
