Mt Whitney Zone Forums Trip Reports July 21 Day Hike, Whitney Kicked My Butt!

I did it! On Monday July 21 I made my first visit to Mt. Whitney, and reached the summit it one LONG day hike from Whitney Portal. Wow, that was a tough one!

I'd been wanting to climb Whitney for a few years, but it wasn't until May that I happened to check recreation.gov, and found there were still day use permits available for July. I grabbed two permits for July 21, convinced my friend Jeff to join me, and started making plans.

Both Jeff and I are pretty good endurance athletes, and have some experience on other 14000+ peaks. He bikes all over the Bay Area, and has climbed Shasta, Rainier, and visited 17000 ft in the Himalayas. I run 40+ hilly miles per week, do marathons and ultras, and have climbed three previous California fourteeners. A couple years ago I hiked most of the John Muir Trail. So I'm not a wimp, and I assumed the warnings about how demanding the Whitney day hike is didn't apply to me, and we'd be up and down far faster than average. Ha! The mountain kicked my butt. We did OK, but we weren't exactly speedy.

Our acclimatization began on Saturday with a drive up to Yosemite and an easy hike around Tuolumne Meadows (8600), then spending the night at Mammoth Lakes (7800). Sunday we picked up our permits in Lone Pine, then did a day hike from Horseshoe Meadows up to Trail Pass and Mulkey Pass (10500). We spent Sunday night at Whitney Portal (8300) before beginning our hike early on Monday morning.

While picking up our permits in Lone Pine, the ranger explained the use of WAG bags to poop in the wilderness. He mentioned that many people have problems with used bags falling out of their packs onto the trail, so we should be sure to secure them tightly. I think he was being serious. This seems like extreme wishful thinking to me, if the rangers believe "falling out of the pack" is the cause of used WAG bags littering the trail, rather than careless people abandoning them intentionally.

At Whitney Portal, we pitched our tent in the awesome, semi-secret Ravine Campground. It was great! This secluded campground is all first come, first served sites with no reservations required, but it's so well hidden that it's almost impossible to find unless you know about it in advance. Apparently this campground was built just a few years ago. From the overflow parking lot, hike downhill into the woods on a faint use trail to reach the Ravine Campground. It's only about 100 yards, but the campground is well hidden. On Sunday night we were the only people in the entire campground. It's nice and quiet, with the sound of Lone Pine Creek drowning out any car noises or voices that might filter down through the trees. The sites are nice level sand, with picnic tables, bear lockers, and a fire pit for each site.



Chatting with other hikers at the Whitney Portal Store, we learned there was awful weather on Sunday the 20th. A couple of major storms hit a few hours apart on Sunday morning, bringing lightning, hail, and snow to the higher elevations. We spoke to several people who made it as far as the 99 switchbacks before being forced to turn around. Ugh. Fortunately the weather forecast for Monday was good.

We awoke at 2:00 am Monday morning, and were on the trail at 2:35. My pack weighed 15 pounds including 2L of water, and Jeff's was 14. I carried:

• ULA Catalyst pack
• 2L water
• katadyn water filter
• two headlamps
• 2500 calories of trail mix, energy bars, fruit, etc.
• lots of extra warm clothes, most of which I ended up wearing later
• first aid kit
• emergency bivy sack
• compass
• sunscreen
• camera
• maps and timetable
• WAG bag

We started off well, and I really enjoyed hiking in the dark. Our headlamps gave plenty of light to see what we were walking on, but not enough to see much around us, so it was like hiking through a dark tunnel. Occasionally we stopped and turned off the headlamps to gaze at the stars, which were tremendous. Somewhere past Mirror Lake the sky began to glow a dull orange. Watching the sunrise and the alpenglow at Trailside Meadow was incredible. I loved every minute!





Around the time we reached Trailside Meadow, about 3 hours into the hike, Jeff began to lag. Up to that point we'd been averaging about 2 miles per hour, joking and singing as we went, but he quickly grew quiet and said he was feeling tired. This was probably due to not having eaten anything. The only food he brought was a stack of MRE's and one small bag of trail mix, none of which he ate. In fact I don't think he'd eaten anything since dinner around 6:00 pm the night before. I'd been snacking the whole way up and was feeling fine, and I suggested he eat something, but he had no appetite and the little bit of trail mix he ate didn't sit well in his stomach.

We continued on, but more slowly than before. Our strategy the whole way up was to hike at a slow and easy pace, but keep going without any breaks except the occasional stop to remove a layer or get something out of the backpack. In retrospect, maybe we would have done better to take a 10 minute break every hour or so. From the trailhead to midway up the 99 switchbacks, nobody ever passed us, but we passed several groups, so I think we were moving at a decent pace. We finally reached Trail Crest at the top of the switchbacks, but Jeff was not having a very good time. He was determined to keep going though, and said he would "dig deep" to make it to the summit.

My secondary goal was to climb Mt. Muir, either on the way up to Whitney summit or while coming back down. From what I'd read, it was a fairly easy and short detour from the main trail, involving a small amount of class 3 scrambling at the final summit block. It wasn't clear to me exactly where Mt. Muir was or where to detour from the main trail, though. Eventually I located it, and after some discussion, we decided Jeff would continue slowly on towards Whitney summit while I climbed up Muir, then returned to the trail and caught up to him from behind. I followed a faint use trail up the pile of rocks towards Muir's summit block. It wasn't great. There was nothing super difficult about it, but I was moving very slowly, climbing with hands and feet, and searching out the best direction to continue up after every few steps. After ten minutes I made it about half way up to the base of the summit block, then stopped and stared up. I looked long and hard at the summit block, and decided no, not today. If I'd been with someone more experienced who could have helped guide me up, I think I would have been fine, but I didn't feel like pushing my luck while hiking there alone. So I chickened out and climbed back down to the trail, which was a lot tougher than climbing up had been.

This is as close as I got to the top of Muir. Somehow it looks a lot closer in the photo than it did in person.



I hurried to catch up with Jeff, reaching him about 15 minutes later. He was still moving forward slowly, with a look of grim determination on his face. This section along the ridge was absolutely incredible, with strange rock fins and pinnacles poking up everywhere, and dramatic drop-offs to the right through the "windows". I felt like we were really mountaineering now.

We kept going, reaching a point about half a mile from the summit before Jeff stopped and said "I'm not going to make it". I was about to come up with some motivational reply, when he turned and vomited on the trail, wretching over and over until there was nothing left in his stomach. Then he sat, feeling slightly better after the vomit. Groups of people appeared suddenly coming from both directions, seemingly unconcerned about stepping in the pile of vomit in the middle of the trail.

Years ago while climbing Mt. Shasta with Jeff, I got sick around 12500 ft, and he abandoned his summit attempt to hike back down with me. I was prepared to do the same for him there, but after 10 minutes of rest he felt well enough that he wanted to continue. We knew we had less than 30 minutes left to reach the summit, so off we went. Before long the roof of the Smithsonian hut crept into view, and then we were there. Hallelujah! I ran around shouting and fist pumping while Jeff collapsed on a rock, exhausted.





Our total time from trailhead to the summit was 8:15, broken down like this:

0:00 Whitney Portal
0:25 North Fork Lone Pine Creek
1:30 Lone Pine Lake
3:00 Trailside Meadow
4:10 Trail Camp
5:55 Trail Crest
6:30 Mt. Muir
7:40 Barf-o-rama
8:15 Whitney Summit

The weather was great at the summit, with about two dozen people milling around in the sun. I got one bar of cell signal on my phone (AT&T), and sent a text to my wife. A layer of puffy clouds hung below the summit, making for some cool photos. I did something I've never dared to before: crept up to the very edge of the east face, sat on the last rock, and dangled my legs over the 3000 ft drop straight down. I was terrified and my heart was racing, but it made for a cool photo! :-)



After about 25 minutes, we started back down. Jeff ate a little, and was feeling slightly better. As we descended, our conditions seemed to reverse. He began to perk up, while I started feeling crappy. By the time we got back to Trail Crest, he was in good shape, but my head was pounding and I was exhausted. The 99 switchbacks seemed to last forever. In fact the whole way down stretched out interminably, and I kept thinking we were farther along than we really were. I lost track of the number of times I said "I don't even remember hiking up this." Any sense of enjoyment in the hike was completely gone, and I was fully in zombie survival mode with no thought other than to reach the bottom. I think the altitude was certainly a factor, but the main problem was just exhaustion. The trail just went on and on endlessly. It took us 6:55 to make it down, which wasn't much faster than our time on the way up. Including time spent at the summit, the whole hike took 15:10 round trip.

In my exhaustion while hiking down, I somehow decided it would be a good idea to pick up and pack out all the WAG bags I saw. We'd passed five or ten on the way up, scattered along the trail, but I didn't see as many while descending. Probably I was so tired I just overlooked them. I left a few that were leaking (yuck), but did manage to pack out three WAG bags I found around Trail Camp. We had a discussion about whether I was a good guy for helping clean the trail, or a bad guy for teaching litterers that other people will clean their messes for them.

When we reached Whitney Portal at 6:15 pm, I was completely wrecked. I was almost in tears. But after some food and an hour's rest, I bounced back and was feeling half-way normal again. Wow.

All-in-all this was an awesome hike, and I especially enjoyed traveling in the dark, watching the sunrise from the trail, and traversing the ridge near the summit. But honestly, I think you have to be an idiot to want to do this as a day hike from Whitney Portal. Either that, or you need to be in outstanding physical shape and practically immune to the effects of altitude. With my prior conditioning and endurance running, and two days spent acclimatizing, I thought I could handle the Whitney day hike without too much trouble. I was wrong, and the last few hours of descent were completely miserable. If I ever climb Whitney again, it'll definitely be as a two or even three day camping trip, and none of this day hike craziness. My hat's off to those of you who can do Whitney in a day and return in one piece, especially you older guys who are climbing it in your 50's, 60's, and 70's. That is one heck of a tough hike!



Photo collection from the hike: Mt. Whitney Flickr album

Steve, great TR - congrats to you both!

Sounds like another day or two of acclimatization may have made the difference. Altitude sensitivity and conditioning are two completely unrelated things. Many a marathoner has flamed out on the switchbacks thinking conditioning will get it done. Even with the problems you experienced, though, you were faster than the average of 10 hours ascending.

Yes, a Whitney dayhike descent truly sucks. The switchbacks go on forever and the rock between Trail Camp and Mirror Lake just pounds your knees and quads mercilessly. And that 200-plus feet of ascent on the return at the JMT junction is none too welcome either.

Good call on Muir. When you're solo and it just doesn't feel right, discretion is always the better part of valor. Especially if "up" is tricky in a C3 or 4 situation - descending is always twice as difficult, and that's usually where bad things happen.

Congratulations again!

As an endurance marathon runner, I feel your pain. I failed on an attempt with my father a couple years ago. I am beginning to think more and more that unless you can really acclimatize fully (meaning slowly, hike high camp low) there really isn't much you can or should even bother trying to do. Maybe you would have been better off resting than hiking at Horseshoe Meadows.

So unless you have a lot of time to use on a vacation, I'm convinced that crossing your fingers and taking Diamox is the best strategy.

Several schools of thought on that. Acclimation studies generally show that in expedition-style mountaineering, the climb-high, sleep-low strategy is the way to go. But that's really for approaching or passing the 18-19K' level where the body just refuses to acclimate long term. "Low" is a very relative term. Most folks on Whitney, or any other American Fourteener, usually find the going becoming difficult at 10-12K'. The goal is to only get to 14K'.

I've found that if I try to go from the lowlands to 14K' with one or zero night's sleep at altitude, I'll feel it. Two to three nights is perfect for me - no AMS symptoms at all, but still can't move anywhere near my normal lowland pace. Five to seven nights at elevation, and I'm feeling almost normal while I hike high.

But then, just as I think I'm really, finally in shape to tackle the fourteeners on their terms, it's typically time to turn around and go home. Dammit.

I am definitely with Bulldog on this one. Climb high, sleep low is a Himalayan assault strategy for minimizing time and elevation in the death zone. It is NOT a strategy for acclimating to alpine elevations, which is optimized by sleeping as high as tolerable, such as at Horseshoe Meadow rather than the Portal.

Bulldog, I did summit whitney today as a day hike. I stayed in lone pine and did only a warm up hike at cottonwood pass. I did not feel any symptoms of ams while doing warm up or during whitney hike. It may be a freak example but just wanted to point out.
Trip report coming.

Abhijit

Abhijit, a percentage of hikers never feel the effects of altitude. You are one of the lucky group.

I'm thinking that the acclimatization I did just might have been too low. I spent about two days above 8000, but only four hours above 10000. I considered sleeping at Horseshoe Meadow instead of the Portal, but I was worried it would be too high for me to sleep very well.

I drove with Steve C from Fresno straight up to Horseshoe Meadows for an overnight acclimatization, and it worked like a charm. Overnight altitude did the job.

PS The weather was horrible everywhere in the mountains on Sunday. Snowed in Yosemite, hailed, lightning, too. It flashflooded in Tahoe & Reno (temps dropped 25 degrees instantly) It even rained in the central valley most of that night.

Steve, based on your now past experience, sleeping at 10 k two nights and taking Diamox is probably a good plan.

When you are hiking, try drinking about a pint of water an hour (less if it is cold), and taking snack breaks once an hour. I usually have to remind myself to eat and drink when I am climbing. If you need to pee every two hours, that's a good indication you are getting the right liquid intake.

Abhijit, congratulations on summiting! You may very well be one of the lucky ones who handle altitude with little difficulty.

Your itinerary is very similar what I did my first trip up Whitney in 2009: stayed in LP and went for a couple of warm-up hikes to Cottonwood Lakes, then Cottonwood Pass. I had done several 12-14K' peaks in the previous few years without any real acclimation and suffering no problems, and had grown confident that I was in that altitude-gifted category. At 13K' on Whitney I was quickly disabused of that notion with the only case of AMS I've ever experienced. And it was a bad one. And I was solo. And that was an exceedingly long descent.

I've never had a repeat of those symptoms, but then again I've paid more attention to acclimation since that episode. AMS is a funny thing - you never can predict if/when it's going to strike. Something as seemingly innocent as bad weather with a low pressure system can make the difference, since oxygen at altitude is really a function of reduced air pressure.

I now make a point of trying to get a night or two at Horseshoe Meadow's 10K' before a Whitney hike, and that's usually preceded by a few nights at 7-8K' in the Mammoth/Yosemite area while dayhiking to 12-13K'. I also like HM for it's quiet compared to the Portal.

Look forward to the TR!

One night at 8,000 (Troy Meadow) and two nights at Horseshoe seemed to do it for me. Although I think our pace was a big factor as well. Since one of our group was struggling to keep up and slowed us down, the rest of us never ended up really exerting ourselves.

I admit that I would have wanted to keep up with the rest of my group (who are in in better shape than me) if we had been able to set our own pace. But I never had to since we all spent so much time waiting for our one slow partner.

Things might have been different for me had I been allowed to "compete" with the rest of my group.

gmaki, that was likely a good thing. Pressing to keep a pace you're not comfortable with brings on oxygen debt, and that can trigger AMS. Quite often at altitude, slow is good. There are some that will argue that going slowly above a certain height is a bad thing, as it prolongs your exposure to thinner air and increases the possibility of AMS. I'm not one of those.

Congratulations!

Bravo Zulu..

By acclimating fully I also meant the idea of sleeping at altitude a couple nights. But my point is, there are a lot of people who don't have time or are not going to take the time to do that. I was one of those people and if I ever attempt again, its likely I would be doing the same thing.

I've only been above 13,000 ft three times.

#1 was Mt. Dana the year before our Mt. Whitney attempt. No AMS symptoms

#2 First Whitney attempt. Turned back on first 3rd of Switchbacks (probably short of 13,000 ft actually). 15 minutes after start of descent became very sick with vomiting. Made it down safely
Acclimation Plan: Red eye from Alaska, rest one day, hike the next

#3 Second Whitney attempt. Made summit fine with no AMS symptoms.
Acclimation Plan: Red eye from Alaska, rest one day including a drive to Horseshoe Meadows, hike the next. Took Diamox the second attempt and concentrated throughout hike on breathing technique

I was in very good hiking shape before both Whitney attempts. All summer long I had done 3-5,000 ft elevation climb hikes, sometimes 2/3 times a week. But the peak elevation on any of those hikes was just over 5,000 feet because most of the time I was starting at sea level.

I actually had people ask me why I didn't train at higher altitudes in Alaska. The answer is because anything over 6-7,000 feet in Alaska quickly turns into a mountaineering snow trip 12 months a year.

Just last night after work I did my first climb up 5,200 feet O'Malley and we ran into quite a bit of snow.