Mt Whitney Zone Forums Trip Reports Your Lone Crone's Success on Whitney - Summit Report 10/3/2015

The Whitney Trail is one of the most glorious paths this crone has ever travelled. It can be dismissed readily as it's "just" a 22 mile round trip, but then one considers the elevation rise of 6,100 feet, a crushing demand on the body that has taken down the most athletic among us, the Cross Fit chick, the 100 mile cyclist, the bulky gym bro, and, most certainly, the woefully unprepared. But, if you're of better than average fitness, take time to acclimate, use proper gear and clothes, and persevere, the trail is a delight, with scenery so grand it's inconceivable, on a path that winds through various levels of flora and fauna to the summit environment of alpine lichen and low spreading plant life amid stark granite rocks.

The trail begins at Whitney Portal where it is customary to commence the hike by chowing down on a bigger-than-your-head-pancake breakfast and then conclude the journey with frosty beers and a giant hamburger, lovingly prepared by my man and mountaineer of renown, Doug Thompson, owner of the Portal Store and Cafe and the excellent Whitney Hostel downhill in Lone Pine. I like to look in on Doug and our last conversation was a fulfilling gossip session about inappropriately horny male climbers from our old Yosemite dirtbag Camp Four community. Horny bros, you know who you are.

On my arrival in the Eastern Sierras on Sunday, September 27th, the weather was in great flux. I dutifully monitored reports while spending four days acclimating at the dreamy Onion Valley Campground, 15 miles up the road from Whitney at 9,200 feet. My plans for elevation adaptation and weather analysis were successful as I was able to pinpoint the three days I could ascend and achieved more than satisfactory high altitude adjustment with no headaches, no nausea, no gasping for breath. Oxygen rich fat red blood cells cursed through my body throughout the adventure! Your crone felt pretty damn smug about the state of her circulatory system.

Crone start - 11:30 am at Whitney Portal standing at the scale to weigh my pack. I came in at 45 pounds. 45 multiple nasty swear words pounds. I haven't lugged 45 pounds on my back since the 1970s, when I was young and strong with real working hips. I have bilateral hip replacements, the last and final one was implanted last November, 2014. A heavy pack like this would have sent my orthopedic surgeon into a tailspin, but nobody's going to let him know. The weightiest item was the required bear canister with food, adding an easy 11 pounds to what I originally calculated would be a 30 pound pack. At many points on my hike I wanted to hand the canister over to any bear I encountered and say, here, this belongs to you, it has your name on it. Sadly, but gladly, I saw no bears.

First thing I did was to call my Hubs, hoping he would say, no! 45 pounds! that's too much! don't do this! strain on your hip replacements! no!

Instead, Hubs calmly advised that I try it and come down if it's too much.

Ohferchissakesdamnit. Pissed me off. Hung up the phone. Proceeded up the trail.

It was hard on my shoulders but thankfully not on the fake hips as my Osprey Ariel 65 distributed the weight quite nicely. I had some hot spots on my shoulders but anticipated these by sliding one pink and one blue household sponges under the straps. If questioned, I was prepared to reply that yes, I am going up to scrub down the Smithsonian Hut at the summit, you're welcome.

Your crone had a blissfully uneventful walk through a gorgeous forest up to the border of the Whitney Zone, where I unashamedly cried. I get to cross into the Zone! I am now in the Zone! I'm on my way! Yay, Jesus! Yay, Dr. Goodman my orthopedic surgeon! Yay, me!

After leaving the forest and ascending to sub-alpine turf, I made my way up to Outpost Camp with a bit of drama as the trail became rockier and I slowed down considerably, mincing my way between boulders and blocks, sticking my hiking poles in between stones causing my hips to twist precariously. Was this the moment I would dislocate one or both hips? Leaving me on the cold rock to blow my safety whistle and holler desperately for help? Forcing me to take the one precious Norco I stashed away in my toiletry bag?

Your crone was spared such pain and indignity throughout the many rocky sections of the trail. I became zen-aware of the dangers and not neurotically vigilant as is my usual state. I transformed into the Crone Bodhisattva, actively in the present moment, simply thinking about putting one boot in front of the other. This was good for me as I forgot about Donald Trump, attacks on Planned Parenthood, worrying about Hubs and Malcolm our dear pup, and, most importantly, how my hair was beginning to look like Nick Nolte's in his 2002 mug shot.

From the Whitney Zone border it took an hour and a half to land in the pleasures of Outpost Camp, bedecked in golden Autumn foliage and nestled in a valley surrounded by white granite walls and peaks. I set up my tent, an REI Half Dome Two Plus, at 5 pounds a relatively heavy tent for a high elevation, demanding trail. Ultralight gear for me from here on out! a mantra I repeated every five steps wearing my 45 pound beast.

There ain't no disco at Outpost, so sleepy time was 7:30 pm only to get up at 2:45 am and then boots on the trail at 3:15. As many do, I left my tent and gear in place at Outpost and proceeded with a considerably lighter hydration day pack containing The Ten Essentials for wilderness survival, two liters of water, protein/carb/sugar snacks, and three bulging handfuls of gummy worms. The night was clear and star studded and other early risers were ascending the trail wearing twinkling head lamps. From Outpost to Trail Camp I lost my way a couple of times, only to be rescued by kind trail masters who helped me backtrack onto the right way and stood at high points for guidance. It took three hours to get to Trail Camp at 12,000 ft where I had to use my WAG bag.

Does a bear shit in the woods? Yes. Do crones shit in the woods? Yes, but in the Whitney Zone crones and everyone else are required to utilize the Waste Alleviation & Gelling/WAG method of poo elimination. Human twosies cannot decompose in granite cubbies and cracks. At one time there was a solar pit-outhouse at Trail Camp, but humans abused this privilege by throwing trash into the pit, making it overflow, and stinking up the majesty of the Trail Camp area. Along with the hiking permit, the rangers give you a WAG bag, stare straight into your eyes, and demand that you must use it. Nobody wants to go in the WAG, a thin blue plastic sheet, faintly floral scented, to be used, then folded and stored in its original ziplock container for a special WAG disposal container back at the trailhead. Hence, you are traveling with a piece-of-shit hiking partner. I did just that, up to the summit and back down to Whitney Portal.

Ahead of me were the infamous 97 Switchbacks, snaking upwards on a steep scree. Though it was 6:30 am, there were many hikers walking up the switchbacks and I was heartened to see that parties were not stopping at every other corner. Once I pulled up my pants after WAG bagging, I was on the trail moving at my winning tortoise pace, sipping water and chewing on gummy worms. Life was good, until I met a pokey dude who tried to hike with me, stopping at every other switchback. I had to ditch him. He was angry at me! HYOH/Hike Your Own Hike, dude!

Switchbacks methodically done, your crone was sitting pretty at Trail Crest, 13,700 ft. A few feet away from the Trail Crest sign were little snow banks and icicles in shady spots from the snow flurries two nights before. With blue skies overhead, I held up my fist and said yes! for my luck in catching the good weather.
Round the corner from the Trail Crest sign, it hits you - a breathtaking view of the High Sierras. Barren peaks contrasted with valleys of deep aqua lakes, an unforgettable landscape. Your crone was also in Sequoia National Park, another sign on the trail, this one providing information that you are entering a National Park and pets and firearms are forbidden. I had no dog or glock, and I jumped over an imaginary line into the park.

The trail continued on the west side, behind the Whitney area peaks. The backside of the mountain consists of hoodoo-like spires, reddish and textured from sun exposure. The trail became rockier, and though I was close to the summit, 2.5 miles, I had 728 feet of potential fake hip busting climbing ahead. Full-on tortoise mode was engaged, I was in for two hours of careful stepping.

Along the rocky trek, temps dropped to the mid 30s and the wind whipped up, but I was snug with three light but substantially insulating layers on my top. I was comfortable and flexible in lined REI ski bottoms and Lululemon yoga pants on my legs. An important item I always forget but happily remembered this time were gaiters that strap on the top of boots, preventing pebbles and rocks from getting into my socks. Prepared! And as long as I moved carefully, I was good to go.

A mile in, your crone caught sight of the summit hut! Yay! Boo! The summit hut was atop a steep scree. I couldn't see hikers from that point, but a half mile more I noted that the trail switchbacked gently up the scree. Good, nothing ridiculously steep on the trail. However, for those of us who like exposure, the dropoffs were epic! Sweeping views straight down to the alpine lakes below. Windows between the hoodoos revealing the east side of the mountain and Trail Camp. Vomit inducing for some, but delightfully hair raising for height loving freaks like me.

It was close to mid-day, I was making excellent time. Gummy worms and a delicious mix of dried apricots, almonds, and M&Ms along with two whole wheat bagel almond butter and ghee sandwiches fueled my work. I was elated arriving at the junction of the John Muir Trail and the summit trail. JMT'ers leave their packs at this crossroads and many of them were descending, as the tradition is to summit Whitney at sunrise to cap the southbound 221 mile journey. Their faces were radiant! And, most of the glowing JMT'ers I saw were women.

On the final leg, I became a pilgrim reaching her sacred destination. It was 1:30 pm when I stepped up to the summit and saw the whole world around me. At the Smithsonian Hut, decorated with tattered yet still colorful Tibetan prayer flags, I signed the register ("Oct 3 2015 - Grace Davis - Santa Cruz- CA - My fake hips made it! I'm 60!") and walked over to stand on top of the US Geological Survey medallion.

Those few minutes at the summit were among the happiest moments of my life. The trail was very hard, one of the hardest I've ever done, but I was persistent and took good care of myself. Your crone earned the satisfaction and joy of a job well done. I will always be humbled and grateful that I could dig deep to make a mighty effort, prepare diligently, and achieve the state of mindfulness required to accomplish this feat.

I don't know where this strength comes from. I don't know how I endure. But, it is within me and for alI of it, I am the luckiest crone I know.

Love,
Grace Davis
October 7, 2015
Santa Cruz, California

Way to go, Grace! Nice trip report. Your method of acclimating really helped.

It is amazing that you did this on the hip replacements. I can't recommend enough that you try to get some lighter gear. Doing that will enable you to keep on hiking.

So now we have Harvey Lankford who hikes with an artificial knee, and you with the hips. That holds out hope for many.

Keep on hiking, and keep on writing!

Hey, Steve C, so nice to have your feedback!

Yup, that 45 pound pack was killer on my shoulders, but relatively ok on my hips. Had a two hour massage when I returned home, then lots of yoga sessions.

Your wise recommendation to get way lighter gear is received quite seriously. Currently researching the options and certainly if you have suggestions for brands and such, I would be grateful to know these.

All hail Harvey Lankford! And, many blessings to you.

Here's a place to start on the ultralight ideas in this forum. Be sure to check the two links I provided in the 4th post from the top.

Ultralight backpacking

YOU ARE MY GURU! Thanks so much for the invaluable information. Though I managed with my 45 pounds, you are absolutely correct - managing the rocky parts of the trail up to Outpost would have been vastly easier. Much gratitude to you again and again!

A gem of a report! Thanks, Crone!

You are very kind, Sir Shane. And - Placer County? You live in heaven. Peace! Grace the Crone