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...

Looking to the South-East I think??

Victory kiss (Lone Pine 14, 505 ft below us in the background)

The obligatory photo for the jewel in our hiker crown

Looking back toward where we approached the hut from

Hey Lone Pine, you sure are small!

Sam, wishing he had a base rig to get down

The US Flag blowing in the wind on the Summit Hut

Success. What a glorious world it is out/up there. What a beautiful God there must be, to create all of this. 

Why do we always return to Mineral King? Because....THIS:

The mission for this particular trip was to finish our previous goal: Summit Sawtooth Peak. Yes, we went over the pass (11,730 ft) on our last trip, but we had yet to make it all the way to the peak (12,343 ft). Since we were only weeks away from attempting a Mt Whitney summit, this trip was a defining moment (in my head). 

We headed up to Mineral King Friday after work, planning our usual (car camping) overnight at Cold Springs. This is one of the few places you can car camp and feel like you're not on top of your neighbors. The camping is first come first serve, and only costs $12. Not many people are willing to drive the 25 mile winding one lane half paved road to get there (we've timed it many times, even if you know the road well, it takes an hour and half). We weren't doing any backpacking so we didn't need to pick up a permit (day hikes do not require permits). 

We woke up casually (probably around 6am), and headed out. The trail is steep at first, then splits with the Timber Gap trail (we've done that one plenty of times, love it!). The next 3 miles (or so) are a gentle climb and we were able to get up fairly fast. Looking up before you head into the Monarch Lake area, you can see Sawtooth peeking out:

The trail passes through a forest-like area before you head into the rocky Monarch Lakes area. You can see the trail ahead of us, and how gentle the climb is. Note the little point that is Sawtooth in the upper right:

As always, the deer around here show no fear of humans:

Once you pass by the Beautiful Monarch Lakes, you immediately start to make your way up the sandy slog of Sawtooth toward the pass. I tried to capture how steep it is:

Looking down:

As we climbed higher (stoping every 3 minutes to catch our breathe and give our legs a rest), Upper Monarch Lake becomes visible. This is a great lake to take a swim in btw. 

As we got higher and higher, I couldn't help photograph this mountain peak to the left a million times. The beauty of this place really is incredible (It also gives a feel for the steepness of the mountains around here).

 This is the view looking over to the peak from the Pass:

It's about a mile or so rock scramble from here to there...and we were goin' for it. We had been warned by others and even the rangers that there isn't a clearly marked path, but that it was "easier" than the part from Monarch Lake to the Pass...
This was about halfway to the point...see if you can spot Sam:

Not too long after I took this photo, I sat down for a break. I suddenly felt like I needed to lay down and go to sleep. Oh no...that's not good. The altitude was hitting me hard, and since we were having a hard time following the trail (basically just climbing rocks and aiming for that big pointy thing), we opted to abort the mission. One problem: there is no "trail" to turn around on and head back. Me, being a genius and clearly an outdoor expert (HAH!), said "hey look, lets follow those footsteps, straight down to the lakes..."

 Big Mistake. We resorted to sliding down on our butts, with the occasional slides not knowing when/how they would end, nearly falling off several cliffs, and both thinking "This is how we die....I've always wondered how I would go..." Tears were shed (my tears, Sam is a robot), prayers were said, and we just kept going, keeping those lakes in view. We had lost all direction/trail/common sense. For some reason we just kept going down. Looking back up I tried to take one photo of where we had slid down on our butts:

It looks like a cliff, because it is...and several times we would hit loose sand covering a rock and just keep sliding. We were SO dumb. What seemed like hours passed as we continued down. I'm sure it was closer to one hour in real time...

Spoiler alert: we obviously made it down because I am writing this blog. I wanted to HUG AND KISS Monarch Lake when we reached it..is it possible to hug and kiss water? 

There was another group of day hikers at the lake swimming, and we ran over to the lake and dipped our water bottles in and chugged water...there was also some shedding of clothes as we jumped in for a swim. They were looking at us like aliens. I'm sure I was crying (yeah, I do that a lot).  We finally spoke, and all we said was something to the effect of "That's not the way you're supposed to get down that mountain, and we almost just died," half laughing, half crying. They couldn't tell if we were joking or not. Their biggest concern was us drinking the water straight from the lake. We had to sit there and mentally recover for an hour or so before we could make it all the way back to the car. 

As we headed down, I kept looking back at Sawtooth, seeing where we had come from, and trying to decide if we were friends or not. 

We learned our lesson, Sawtooth, you win. I will never try to stand on top of your stupid pointy peak at 12,434 ft in the air and see 360 degrees all around me ever again....or will I?

"Nice try, rookie," laughs Sawtooth as he shrinks in the background.  

Ahhh....Mineral King Valley: my personal favorite place to go in the Sequoia's. It's not that I don't like Fourth of July. I just don't understand the whole White-Trash-themed BBQ's and sitting around outside when its blazing suns and getting sunburned and drunk. Does that make me Anti-American? Oh well...we did this instead:

Let me set the scene a little for you so you understand just how difficult this 3 day (roughly 30 miles) backpacking trip was. Sam and I have always been campers, adventurers, and outdoorsy folks. It wasn't until this last year that we discovered I struggle (pretty badly) with altitude sickness. That means that when I go up into high altitudes I get sick: headaches, nausea, inability to sleep well, lack of appetite, etc. The first TWO times it happened (read about it here and here), I hadn't even heard of it, nor was I ready to admit I had this 'thing' that clearly only 'unhealthy people who are uncomfortable outside' have. It wasn't until we went to a seminar in search of tips on how to be a successful Mt Whitney Peakbagger that the dots connected. Actually, I think I was sill in denial then. The man giving the talk started listing the symptoms. In my head I was thinking "check, check, yup, check check..." Out loud I said, "No, remember, it was food poisoning...or nerves...or something."

Fast forward to this last trip in the Mineral King area of the Sequoia's. I had read up on my "sickness" and was coming well prepared. I even got some crazy drugs from the doctor (who warned me of the tingle feeling I would get in my hands and feet and the crappy taste in my mouth I would have when drinking carbonated drinks). We had 2 days to acclimate. We spent one night around 6,000ft at a car camping spot, did a day hike to well over 10,000ft, and the next night at 7,800ft...and then we were off....

...to sit in the car while I cried and tried to force a granola bar down and decide if I wanted to make myself go on this trip. All I could think was how much smaller the world felt at that moment. All the places I wouldn't be able to go, the mountains I wouldn't be able to climb...I thought for sure I had mentally prepared myself to "ignore" my symptoms. I thought I could will myself into being fine. Clearly, I had low will power, or I really did suffer from this 'thing'. The previous times I had gotten these symtoms began to make much more sense...and I think we had resorted to turn around and go home.

But I'm stubborn. And though he would never say it or make me feel bad about it, I didn't want to let Sam down. So, off we went....slowly....

We set out to do a loop we had previously turned around on (because I had food poisoning, remember?! ;). Here's a highlighted Map of the route we chose:

Our first night's destination: Bug Pond...er, I mean, Pinto Lake. Beautiful marshy lake area, infested with mosquitoes and Deer. At least it was so the last time we were here. Probably due to it being a dry year, the mozzies weren't too much of a bother. And guess what, I was feeling ok. Not tip top, but I had made it up over Timber Gap (up 1,500ft) , down (2,5300 ft) into the valley, Crossed Cliff Creek without falling into it, and up (1,700ft) again to Pinto Lake.

Crossing Cliff Creek

Home for the Night at Pinto Lake Campground

Sam, cooking dinner with the ultra lightweight cook system he made 

We hiked over to a little hill to catch the sunset reflecting off what we thought to be Sawtooth Peak

The next morning we had to get over Black Rock Pass (3,000ft), pass through the Big Five Lakes Area, the Little Five lakes area, and get to at least the Lost Creek Trail Junction (sleeping somewhere just below 10,000ft elevation). We had been to the top of Black Rock Pass before, but I was barfing. I was looking forward to a barfless summit. Success. I was even eating real food on the way up. 

Looking back toward Pinto Lake as we get closer to Black Rock Pass

Soon, We'll be far above that waterfall

Here's another view of the same waterfall

As you climb black Rock, multiple lakes and waterfalls become visible. It helps you track your progress. 

At the top of Black Rock Pass, looking down at the Little Five Lakes

Getting closer to the Lakes as we go down

And here....We didn't go for a swim though. They were extremely cold and we were not that hot. 

We camped somewhere along the Lost Canyon Trail with the advice from a Ranger. We suspect it was about a mile after the trail junction. The next day was the bi day we were going to climb over Sawtooth. We woke up pretty early, on got on the trail by about 6 am. That may sound terrible, but really, when you go to bed at 9pm the night before, your eyes just spring open at sunrise sometime around 5 or 5:30am. 

Heading out of Lost Canyon, Sawtooth in front of us

Looking back at Lost Canyon. It sure was beautiful. 

Shadow Selfie in Lost Canyon. 

Columbine Lake, halfway to Sawtooth. The hardest part is coming...

Oh look how much Columbine Lake shrank once we got to the top of Sawtooth!

Looking down into Mineral King Valley from Sawtooth Pass. 

We opted not to make the optional summit from the Pass to the Peak. It was another Mile (unmarked rock scrambling) and another 900-1,000ft or so. I did NOT have it in me. I shed tears of joy on this pass. I felt like crap, I had only eaten some nuts and a fruit bar for the day, and I barely made it to the top. But I felt like I had won a war against the altitude. This whole trip will always be one that stands out in my mind as one of conquest, even if just barely. I wish I had taken more pictures to show how steep Sawtooth was on both sides, but it was the last thing on my mind. 

From Left to Right: Nerd 1 (also known as Sam), Nerd 2 (Also known as Katy, me), and Sawtooth Peak. 

Hey Look, We're almost back to our tarp covered car! 

Mineral King, I hope we share more weekends in the future. 

My Favorite picture from the weekend.  I mean...look at it!!!!