From the moment she clipped in, Grace Rohloff carried her father’s hand—and a quiet joy. But that bond would not keep her from tragedy.
The cable path toward the summit of Half Dome stands as one of Yosemite National Park’s most seductive calls. It’s a route that tests resolve and balance, offering dramatic vistas along the final 400 feet of exposed granite.
On July 13, 2024, 20-year-old Grace Rohloff and her father, Jonathan, answered that call together. They had hiked thousands of miles in tandem, exploring Zion, the Grand Canyon, and countless trails across Arizona. Now, with a permit earned by lottery, they stood at the base of the cables with hope in their hearts—but the mountain had a different plan.
Shortly after they summited, thunder roared across the high Sierra. Jonathan recalls a dark cloud rolling in “like gangbusters.” The pair began descending; granite polished by millions of footsteps grew slick with moisture.
Grace, wearing new hiking shoes, whispered to her father, “Dad, my shoes are so slippery.” Three-quarters of the way down the cable section, her footing failed. She slid past Jonathan’s outstretched hand and disappeared over the edge. “It happened so fast,” Jonathan later said.
Rescue teams arrived hours later. The helicopter could only confirm what the terrain already whispered: that Grace had passed from a severe head injury, likely sustained upon impact.
Her fall, estimated between 200 and 300 feet, marked not just the end of a life but the beginning of a call for change.
Peril On Cables: How One Slip Changes Everything
The Half Dome cables are deceptively simple—a pair of steel wires anchored into steep granite, allowing hikers to grip their way up or down without technical gear. But simplicity hides danger. Between wooden slats placed roughly every 10 feet, the exposed rock is unforgiving in wet conditions.
Since 1919, it is reported that relatively few hikers have died directly from cable falls. Yet nearly every fatality on the cable section highlights the same dangerous confluence: rain, slick granite, and misjudged timing.
In 2011, a 26-year-old woman fell off the cables and plunged 600 feet during a steep descent in wet weather. Other deaths have occurred over decades when storms transformed the cables into sheer slides. Grace’s father, Jonathan, has called the system “unnecessarily dangerous.”
After Grace’s death, discussions in the news media placed new scrutiny on permit design, capacity, and safety improvements on the trail. With Yosemite’s popularity surging—over 325 million national park visits in recent years—the pressure to balance access and safety has grown.
One proposed idea is to insert more wooden slats between the cable segments, allowing safer footing even in moisture. But some climbing purists argue against altering the mountain’s character.
Beyond Cables: A Wider Lens On Risk And Resilience
Grace’s story is not an isolated tragedy. In 2025, another climber, Balin Miller, fell to his death from El Capitan’s Sea of Dreams route. He was attempting to retrieve a stuck haul bag, rappelled unknowingly beyond the end of his rope, and lost his life in an accident witnessed by onlookers and livestreamed to hundreds.
Though that was a technical climb, and Grace’s was a non-technical route, both tragedies underscore a shared truth: in the high places, margin for error is vanishingly small. Even when preparation is thorough, the mountain has its say.
Yosemite, too, grapples with unpredictable rockfall. A torrent of weather in 2015 caused a 2,400-ton slab to shear off Half Dome, reshaping parts of established routes below. Geologists know that the granite in Yosemite constantly weakens through a process called exfoliation—thin layers peeling as the mountain breathes in heat and cold cycles.
And yet climbers and hikers still flock to the heights, drawn by adventure, introspection, and connection to the wild. It is a partnership of humility: humans must adapt to terrain, not vice versa.
In Remembrance And Reform
Even in the darkest hours, hints of light emerge. Jonathan Rohloff has channeled his grief into advocacy. He suggests retrofitting the cable section—horizontal planks close enough to step onto—and possibly adding a second lower cable. He also asked that the park better consider weather in permit issuance and consider temporary cable closures when storms loom.
“I believe that God was calling her home,” he said, mourning that the alteration won’t bring Grace back but hoping it spares others from similar loss. At the summit before they descended, Grace had beamed with joy, whispering to her father, “I’m glad we did this—this is something I always wanted.” Ten minutes later, it was gone.
Her memory remains as a beacon—a reminder that the mountains, while breathtaking, demand respect. For every climber who seeks their heights, her story will pulse as a quiet caution: gear matters. Weather matters. Timing matters. And in every expedition, humility is the most critical piece of equipment.
Sources:
SFGATE
The Guardian
Yahoo
