Mt. Whitney: Victory over Altitude

Can you even take in the beauty when you limit it to a picture frame?

'NO!' is the correct answer.

Mt. Whitney is the highest summit in the United States. Sure, there are 11 other taller mountains in Alaska, but since I'll never summit a mountain piled under several feet of snow and ice...should we even count those? Technically Mt. Whitney is just the tallest mountain in the contiguous United States, but to me, it's the tallest I'll climb in this country. Maybe one day I'll hit up Kilimanjaro, but given the cost of something like that, it's low on the bucket list.

A few weeks prior to climbing Whitney, we went on a "tester" hike and tried to summit Sawtooth (12, 343 ft). According to how that went, we might have been doomed. But we had gone on other training hikes and backpacking trips all summer both trying to figure out how to work with my altitude sickness, and trying to build (extra strong) mountain climbing legs. Mt Whitney sits at the end of the John Muir Trail, with the West side facing the Sequoia National Park, and the East side facing the Inyo National Forest. We were entering from the East, so our permit needed to come from Inyo.

Driving out to Lone Pine and beholding Mt. Whitney's point with the naked eye for the first time. It's actually the one that appears smaller (and to the right of) the middle peak:

After having attained a permit for the John Muir Trail, I look back at the permit system for Whitney and laugh at it's ease (though it's still not just your average 'just log on and get it' experience). We were set to enter into the Whitney zone on Friday, after a night or two of sleeping at Whitney Portal (the base of the mountain, just 11 or 12 miles form Lone Pine). There's an awesome backpackers camp there, for $6/night. We hadn't heard of it from any blog or person, but stumbled across it when we got there and all the campsites were full.

I was anticipating waking up feeling sick and doubting (and probably crying) if I could do this trip. I woke up at what seemed like early with the light, but Whitney Portal (elevation is 8,300ft or so) is so nestled into the mountains that it was actually not 5am (closer to 7am). I woke up more because I was hungry really. That's a first...better do what my stomach says and feed it while there's an appetite!

The sun bouncing off the rocky walls surrounding me made my cliff bar and fruit rolls taste good. How can you complain about food when watching the first light of day break?

We had another day/night to hang around here before our actual permit allowed us to enter onto the trail. The plan was to stay at Outpost Camp (10,400ft) and then summit the next day, with an option to stay at Outpost Camp again or come all the way down. Since I was feeling fine we went down to the permit office, entered a lottery with about 30 other people, and got a spot for entry THAT day (we got lucky and drew #2 from the lottery draw, the girl who got #1 was solo. I'm not sure how many others after us got permits at all). Our thinking was something along the lines of "Katy doesn't feel sick, let's make a break for it!"

Off we went, with a combined weight back of 32 lbs between the two of us (if this scale was correct). That's including 3 days of food AND a bear can.

Here's a shot of the pack I was carrying (below): A REI flash 18 day pack, with our UL2 Big Agnes tent strapped to the outside. We saw people hauling up what could have been entire hotel rooms in their bags. Nooooo thank you....

In 2.8 miles, we reached Lone Pine Lake (elevation now at 9,900 ft). We stopped for water and a good break. We had all day to get not that far. The point of going up was just to hang out in the 'thinner air.'

I tried to eat...it didn't work. Good thing I scarfed a burger before we hit the trail. My body was starting to not liking it up here already...

In one more mile, we climbed another 500 ft to Outpost Camp, home for the night at 10,400 ft. We set up camp nestled in some bushes to try and get some privacy in case I was going to get sick...but there is no such thing as privacy up here. Something like 150 people are permitted to stomp up and down this mountain EVERY day, and half of those people are staying either here or Trail Camp.

We took our sleep aid and tried to go to bed at around 7pm. I was feeling SO sick, and I was crying, as usual. I resorted to declaring to Sam I would not be going forward in the morning. I would climb the few miles back to the car and wait for him while he summited. It would be completely safe to separate on this trail, as we had already made a slew of friends and neither of us would be alone no matter which way we went. I went for a walk to see if getting my blood pumping would help. I spoke with a man we had seen a lot on the trail already and struck up a conversation. I then politely asked if he would mind if Sam tagged along with him up to the summit as I would be turning around. I went and got Sam and introduced them, and all was set to go at 4:30am.

At 4:15am when the alarm went off, I felt ok, and I had actually slept. Thank you little purple sleeping aid pill! I didn't feel so bad, so I tried to shove a granola bar down and started walking with them. It was PITCH BLACK. We weren't the only crazies doing this though, it's actually a common practice on Whitney. It takes so long and the weather is so fickle you have to aim to reach the summit by 11am in case thunder and lightening decide to show up. We were right on time. The few times we've watched the sun come up in the wilderness have been some of my favorite moments. This must be how Patagonia got it's inspiration for their label design/logo:

RIGHT as the sun was rising, you could almost hear it singing, announcing it's arrival, all three of us stopped dead in our tracks at a strange noise...tumbling...crackling...a GIANT rock, falling down a mountain, echoing throughout the valley, but nowhere in sight! It gave us all goose bumps, and a good reminder we were in Mother Nature's territory, and that she was in charge out here.

At this point I was surprising myself (and the guys) with every footstep. Sometime around 5am, I had told myself in my head 'turn around at first light and give up,' but out loud when the guys asked me how I was doing, all I could respond with was "I'm still alive," and they took that as a sign I was doing ok, and marched forward. We passed Mirror Lake and trailside meadow in the dark, so I didn't get photos of them.

At mile 6 we had made it to Trail Camp, 12,000ft. My last attempt at this elevation was aborted, but here I was. Debating if I should turn back now or keep going, we stopped and hung out with some other hikers and swapped stories. This is always a fun thing to do on the trail. We always get a lot of questions about our gear, and how little we actually carry. Sam goes into teacher mode and they walk away with a wealth of information and (hopefully) go home and change everything. (Side note: Sam will be posting a ton on going lightweight, lightweight gear, and MYOG-Make your own gear, soon)

We took a picture in front of Whitney and the Needles before we left Trail Camp. I had decided I would keep going. Though I'm not sure why, I felt terrible.

The next 2.2 miles and 1,700 feet of elevation gain consisted in the famous 97 (or 99) switchbacks. You hear horror stories about these and how they're never ending. Well, almost the whole trail is switchback-y, as are a lot of trails, so we didn't think much of it. We were actually having such a great conversation, that we reached the cables and had to stop and go "wait a minute, we're halfway up the switchbacks!"

The cables were put there some time back to prevent people from sliding down this part when it's iced over. Wow! That means we are almost to Trail Crest, 13,700 feet up, and every step I took was higher than I had ever been before. This thought, and the great conversation with our new friend Wade, kept me going.

Before we knew it....TRAIL CREST!!!

Looking back at those crazy switchbacks:

And you could now actually see over to the other side:

The views just kept getting better and better as we climbed. We were now only 2.8 miles and another 800 feet of elevation gain away from the summit. At some point the little hut became visible, and then disappeared again. Then we actually lost some elevation (NOO!!!), and had to go up that same amount again. Every step was a step closer. Every step, at this point, was already a victorious step.

Looking forward as we approach the needles (Our Friend Wade was setting the pace, so he ended up in a lot of our photos):

Getting closer and closer...

At some point, we passed through the "windows." This is where the trail is about 5 feet wide, with sheer cliffs on both sides and you can see straight down...not for the faint of heart. Sam, who has skydiving in his blood, loved it of course.

Another window:

Looking through a "window." It's blurry because I took it quickly walking pass.

Sam peeking his head into the frame in front of a "window."

One step, one step, one step....This is what it looked like looking back at the needles before we made our final ascent up to the hut:

...and eventually, the hut was within reach. I reached out and touched it, with my own hands:

I had brought my OWN pen to sign the registry (just in case). I hadn't come this far to find no pen, or worse, a pen that doesn't work! There were a few pens, so I wasn't the only one who did this. We all added our names (and I left the pen there for future summiters):

So what now? Sit down and have lunch? No thanks. Pictures and a quick escape. I hope the next time I'm there (that's right, THE NEXT TIME I'm there), I'll be able to take in the beauty a little more. At this point though, the victory of making it up here that flooded my body and filled me with adrenaline for a few minutes, was now quickly vanishing. The summit was only the halfway mark; we still had to get off this mountain.

But first, documentation of this victory...