Write-up and pictures by Peter
Background: I had missed out on both the
original INCH trip to Mt. Whitney
and a later trip with George, Ross, Padraig, and Eugene because my back had given out on me
(thus making the latter a non-INCH trip, much to the chagrin of the others as they were deprived of
getting a prestigious
INCH leaf and some hefty Hardcore Hiker
points), so a couple of months ago when David told me he had an extra permit to hike Mt. Whitney in
July, I jumped at the opportunity.
Prep Work, Part I -- Endurance Training: The first phase in preparing for the hike consisted
of doing a number of long, hard, grueling hikes, preferably in the summer heat, in order to build
up our stamina. These included the
Five Peaks of Diablo,
Mustang Peak, the
Santa Cruz Mountains and
Point Reyes Loops, and finally, the
Ohlone Wilderness Trail.
Whew! That's a lot of miles. After this, the 21-mile round trip to the Whitney summit would seem
short by comparison.
Prep Work, Part II -- Acclimation: Recalling the disaster of not allowing sufficient time
to adjust to higher altitude that befell us at
Mauna Loa, we planned to go up
early in order to acclimate. We headed out to Yosemite bright and early on Sunday morning in order
to get a couple of quick hikes in. We had mulled over the idea of hiking Mt. Dana, but decided that
to go from sea level up to the trailhead then try to climb to 13,000 feet would be too much like
what we did in Hawaii and would yield comparable results. Also, we felt it would be best to save
our legs for Whitney and not do another tough hike so soon beforehand. So, we settled on a couple
of shorter hikes instead.
Our first hike was to the Gaylor Lakes. We picked up the trailhead at the Tioga Pass entrance
station, just across the road from the Mt. Dana trailhead. It was a gentle uphill climb, but
we were huffing and puffing in no time as we felt the effects of the 10,000 foot elevation. After
about a mile, we made it to the top of the ridge and got a nice view of the lake. We sat here
for a few minutes to catch our breath before heading down and around the lake and on to the
next one. From the second lake, Dave spied an abandoned mine up the hill on the other side.
Figuring this would be a cool place to explore, and to get in some additional elevation, we
ventured forth. Even though we were heading higher, our breathing was now more controlled -- a
good sign! We made it to the mines and beyond, going up to a small peak to take some photos
before retracing our steps back to the car. OK, we're off to a good start! Let's keep going ...
From Tioga Pass, we drove a few miles down the road and turned off onto an unpaved road to
Saddlebag Lake. We had a quick lunch at the campground before doing the hike. The terrain
around the lake was quite different from what I had pictured. It was very dry, with no shade
and not much to look at. I would rate it pretty low on the beauty scale, especially for
Yosemite -- but then I remembered, we were actually outside of the park now and in the Inyo
National Forest. Inyo face!! In any case, we were not here for the views, we were here to
acclimate, and it served the purpose. We did a quick 4-mile loop around the lake with a brief
stop at the far end to take some shots of Greenstone Lake (a poor man's version of Iceberg Lake
at Glacier National Park -- that one is a definite 10 on the beauty scale).
All in all, we got in about 9 miles of hiking between 10 to 11,000 feet. Not bad for the first
day. As evening began to draw near, we headed past Mono Lake and down the road to Lone Pine,
with a stop in Bishop for dinner. Unfortunately, I could not enjoy the meal as I had developed
a splitting migraine headache. Hopefully this was not a sign of things to come.
It turned out that all I needed was a little food and a couple of pills, and I was feeling pretty
good again fairly soon. As we drove down Hwy 395 towards Lone Pine, I stared in awe at the peaks
towering before us. How the hell were we going to climb those? And these were not even as tall
as Whitney! Some doubts were starting to creep into my mind ...
We spent the night at the Mt. Whitney Motel in Lone Pine (elevation 3700 feet). It probably
would have been wiser to stay a little higher, but we figured we still had about 20 hours before
the start of the hike to spend at higher altitude, so we were not too worried. We quickly picked
up our permits and poop bags (with ample explanation by the eager ranger) and headed up to
Whitney Portal (elevation 8360 feet). Our intent was to spend the day hiking around there before
dropping down to Lone Pine Campground (~6000 feet) where we had reservations for the night. As
luck would have it, there was walk-in space available at the Whitney Portal Campground, so we
wasted no time and set up shop. A good omen!
After pitching our tents and getting organized, we did a quick 2.5-mile hike up to Lone Pine Lake
(9,960 feet). This is the highest one can go along the Mt. Whitney trail before entering the
Mt. Whitney Zone, which requires a permit. Doing the first part of the trail the day before
the hike was also good to get us in the right mindset for doing the hike. Not to mention that
the next time we were to do this segment would be in the dark, so at least we would get to see
it now. The trail up was nice and easy -- soft footing, gentle switchbacks, and the lake was
beautiful. Well worth the climb, but I was a little worried that we were not getting
enough elevation in before the hike. Well, it was too late to do anything about it now.
As we made our way back down, the skies turned gray and it began to sprinkle. Hmmm, not a good
omen. It would be mighty disappointing if we had to call off the hike due to bad weather after
all our preparation. We spent the night lying in our tents, listening to the pitter-patter of
intermittent rain and wondering if we were going to be able to do the hike. I think I got
maybe 30 minutes worth of solid sleep the entire night. I think it must have been during the
time when Dave said he heard a bear rummaging around outside our tents.
Hike Day: We got up shortly after 3 a.m. and looked outside. Beautiful clear skies full of
stars!! Yes, baby! Here we go! We packed up our tents, threw them in the car, and began to
gear up. Unfortunately, the prep work took longer than we had planned and we weren't ready to
start on the trail until 4:38.
My backpack was the heaviest it ever been -- almost 2.5 gallons of water, tons of food, heavy camera
(which I was carrying to take just one photo), warm clothes, hiking gear, etc. -- all added
up to almost 30 lbs. I almost fell over backwards just trying to put it on. Ugh!!! This was not
good. But there was no turning back now, so I strapped it on and hit the trail.
As we began heading up the switchbacks to Lone Pine Lake, we could see headlamps up the hill ahead
of us, guiding us through the night. The weight on my back was making my upper back and neck ache,
but I kept telling myself that my backpack would lighten up as the day went on. I wished I
had bought a water filter instead of carrying all this water. I had not brought one because
I didn't want to lose time filtering water, but the weight I was carrying was slowing me down
anyway, and killing my back to boot. My plan was to drink one pint of water per mile, at least
on the way up. Once I got to the top, or closer to it, I would ditch whatever I didn't need.
To add to my problems, less than a mile after setting out I developed the urge to, shall we say,
make use of the WAG Bag. There was no place to go off trail, so I had to slow down for fear of
having an accident. Darn that altitude playing havoc with my insides! I motioned for Dave to
move past me as I began to look for a place to stop. I knew that if I could make it Lone Pine
Lake, there would be room to take care of my business in peace (another advantage of doing this
part of the hike the day before) and it would be daylight by then.
I'm happy to say I made it to Lone Pine Lake shortly after sunrise and disaster was averted.
I felt much better afterwards and began hiking much more comfortably. The weight on my back was
still killing me, but I figured there was not much I could do about it except drink and eat as
much as I could to help lighten the load. I knew I probably wouldn't see Dave again until the
summit (if I made it that far).
I began to pick up the pace as I cruised past Outpost Camp (10,360 feet) at the 3.8-mile mark, but
started to slow down again as I headed up the switchbacks after Mirror Lake (10,640 feet). The
sun was now out in force as I worked my way up the granite steps, and the backpack was now really
making me suffer. I just could not continue on like this. I found a nice shaded spot under a
couple of boulders and stashed away a few bottles of water. I figured even if someone did take
them, I would be able to make it back to the portal from here without water since it was all
downhill. In the worst case, I would drink out of a stream or lake. I might get a tummy ache
afterwards, but I would survive.
As I continued on to Trailside Meadow (11,395 feet, 6 miles in), my pace was steady, but
slower than I would have liked. I knew I could make better time if it wasn't for the backpack.
I stopped once again and stashed more supplies. Now, I was taking what I thought was the bare
minimum needed to get me to the top and back, but it was still pretty heavy. I tried to force
some food down, but it was a hard sell. I took a few nibbles and bites, but just had no appetite.
I didn't even want to drink anything, but I forced myself to do so, knowing that I would likely
run into altitude sickness otherwise.
I kept slogging on. The good news was that the altitude was not bothering me at all. It
occurred to me that maybe the heavy backback was a blessing in disguise as it forced me to go
slower and thus gave me more time to adjust to the elevation. Hmmmmmmm. These are thoughts
that fill your mind as you walk alone up a mountain. I should also mention that the unpleasant
aroma emanating from the WAG Bag in my backpack was undoubtedly a factor in keeping other hikers
away.
I arrived at Trail Camp (12,039 feet, 7.8 miles in), just after the 4-hour mark, bringing my
average speed so far to just under 2 miles an hour. Not horrendous numbers considering all the
problems, but definitely slower than I would have liked. I figured I should take a good rest
before the final two segments -- the switchbacks up to the Trail Crest, and the final stretch
along the top to the summit. Trail Camp itself is pretty ugly -- just a bunch of smelly people
camped out amongst the rocks, with no shade anywhere (as expected, since it is just above the
tree line). I sat there once again
trying to force down some food, while looking at people making their way like ants up the
switchbacks. I could see some clouds starting to gather near the summit -- not good. Better
get going.
People had warned me about the 99 switchbacks (or 97, or 96, depending on where you start
counting). The gentleman in the tent next to us, who gave us much helpful advice about the trail,
had turned back halfway up the switchbacks on his previous attempt. Many a web page and brochure
I had looked at prior to the trip had issued dire warnings about this segment. For me, it turned
out to be the easiest part of the hike. Maybe it was the long rest at Trail Camp, maybe it
was because I had been going slowly up to this point and hadn't used much energy, maybe it was
due to building up my stamina with many long hikes leading up to this one, most likely it was a
combination of all of the above, but whatever the reason, I was cruising. I passed at least a
dozen people who had a good quarter mile head start on me before I reached the midway point (at
the cables). I was definitely making up for lost time, and I felt like I could be going even
faster, but I purposely held back fearing there would be a steep climb coming up somewhere and
not knowing when I would hit "The Wall" at higher elevation.
I felt the only thing that could stop me now would be some horrible injury or a nasty turn
in the weather. Unfortunately, the dark clouds were gathering, and I knew I was in a race
against time. I could hear rumblings of thunder in the distance. I was at least an hour away
from the summit, which meant at least 2 hours round trip to get back to where I was. If I was
single and carefree, I would definitely throw caution to the wind and go for it (at least it
would make for a cool obituary), but knowing that I had a wife and baby waiting at home put a
different light on the situation. I made peace with myself -- if the weather was bad when I
reached the Trail Crest, I would turn back, no matter how tempting it was to forge ahead
knowing that I had good momentum now.
I reached the crest and looked over the other side into Sequoia National Park --
sunny skies! Whoooooooo! I decided to go ahead to the junction of the John Muir and Summit
Trails and then make another decision. This part of the trail was a little hairy for me. My
fear of heights was getting the better of me as I tried to navigate the path as quickly as I
could. I had not taken a drink for ages, so I forced myself to take a quick stop to gather myself
and gulp down some Gatorade. The clouds continued to roll in from the east, and spiral upwards
like wispy columns of smoke when they hit the craggy mountain tops. I began to get nervous that
I wouldn't make it. More rumblings of thunder ....
I hit the junction of the two trails and took a hard look at the sign that warned of "extreme
danger of lightning strikes" if I continued on. I recalled a documentary I saw about climbers
that were overtaken by summit fever as they approached the top of Everest and pressed on against
their better judgment and paid the ultimate price. As I was debating what to do, the skies cleared
momentarily. I took this as a sign and kept going.
I could taste it now ... the top was hidden by the clouds but I knew it was not far away.
As hikers heading down in the opposite direction passed me, they would offer encouragement
and tell me I was almost there. As I walked quickly past the "windows", I was happy that the
east side of the mountain was shrouded in clouds, thus blocking my view of the dizzying 10,000
foot drop just to my right.
There it was -- the hut at the top! My throat was dry as a bone but I didn't care. Full steam
ahead with not a moment to spare. Almost there, almost there, almost there, I could see Dave
waving me in -- I made it!! Yes!!! The summit of Mt. Whitney! Whooooooooooooo! It felt great!
It was high noon, but you couldn't tell it from looking at the gray sky. To my surprise, I did
not feel the slightest bit tired.
Dave had made it up 30-40 minutes ahead of me. I had no doubt he would do it. He was a
man on a mission and would not be denied. Congratulations! I didn't want to press my luck with
the weather, so I took a couple of quick photos with Dave, signed the log, and turned right back
down the mountain. I must have spent less than 10 minutes at the top, probably closer to 5.
I had achieved what I set out to do and just wanted to get down as fast as possible.
Dave and I headed down the hill together. I felt like I was practically running. The clouds began
to clear as we dropped down, and I actually stopped to take a look through one of the windows.
Bad idea!! I almost lost my balance and my cookies right on the spot. I won't do that again.
Head down, keep going! At the section which dips down before coming back up to the crest, I lost
trail and ended up scrambling over some rocks. I was sweating bullets knowing the drop that was
behind me, but managed to crawl back on trail before all was lost.
Back over the crest and down the switchbacks -- I felt much calmer now. I slowed down and began
to enjoy the view. What a relief. I could see the Trail Camp about a mile down below, and I
figured that would be a good place to rest. Making my way down the switchbacks, I noticed a lot
more water on the trail than I had encountered just a couple of hours earlier. I guess the midday
sun was making the snow melt. By the way -- my hat's off to those who built this great trail.
It makes getting to the top achievable for ordinary hikers like me.
Trail Camp was a zoo. There were probably close to 50 people milling about there, and given that
it was not such a great place to begin with, I decided not to stop there. I kept going down
the hill and found a nice spot about a mile further down to take a break. I kicked off my boots,
peeled the duct tape off my feet (yes, I tape my skin directly) and inspected the damage.
None! Everything was fine. Not a blister in sight. I cooled my tootsies in the cool stream
as I finally ate some lunch (I had not really gained much of an appetite, even now). I slowly
dressed -- I figured I brought all these extra clothes to change in to, so might as well use them --
and changed socks, and right after I laced up my boots and organized my backpack, Dave showed up.
Perfect timing!
We headed down the mountain together, making a couple of stops to pick up my stashes along the
way. I had definitely brought way too much stuff. This part of the hike was truly enjoyable.
Just a walk in the woods, down past Mirror and Lone Pine Lakes, and finally back where we
started. Done!!!! 13.5 hours round-trip. Most importantly, we both achieved our goal of making
it to the top.
As we arrived back at Whitney Portal, we noticed a fair amount of commotion.
Turns out this was the second day of the
Badwater Ultramarathon -- 135 miles from Death Valley to
the foot of Mount Whitney -- and the runners were starting to come in. Now these guys are
seriously nuts! You rock, you crazy bastards!! To top it off, after doing that race, some of
them were going to hike Whitney the next day just for kicks. In the old days, that was officially
part of the race, but now it's optional. I guess they're getting soft.
After a brief rest, we headed out to Bishop for a steak dinner (had to make up for my lack of
appetite the other night) and a good night's sleep before heading back home the next day, with
a brief stop at Mammoth Lakes to plan a future trip, and at Tenaya Lake to dip our tootsies in
the water and reflect on the great weekend while enjoying a couple of nice, cool,
Sierra Nevadas.
Epilog: My thanks to David for setting up the trip and providing the opportunity for
me to go. It was a great trip and a super hike, and I want to go back. I want to improve my time.
I know I could have done much better. I carried way too much stuff and was miserable most of
the way up. I also didn't know what to expect and kept holding back and saving energy for a big
climb and difficult elevation that never materialized. If I had been carrying less crap (and
didn't have to stop to crap), I would have done much better. I have to live with it for
now, but I'm going back!
Here are my
pictures from the hike.
I ended up taking more than just the one ...
