The humbling Mt. Whitney
I decided to tackle Mt. Whitney ...in two days. At one point I could crush 1100 12 inch step ups with a 45# pack in 45 minutes ...at 300ft above sea level. I was already a mountaineering legend in my own mind. Now I can only do 700, but that can't deter a beast like me!
I decided to get an Alpine start, leaving my motel at midnight (who needs to camp up high for acclimatization? Not the beast). The highest you can get on the east coast is 6684 feet, this climb starts at 8360 feet. My goal was to get a 2 am start and take a long slow climb with lots of breaks. Don't want to get altitude sickness (more on that later). I wasn't sure of snow conditions, simply that there was some and by noon it gets slushy. Best to get to Trail camp (12039 ft) by then.
I arrive at the Mt Whitney portal at 2am, but I have no clue where the trail starts. I drive the loop full circle parking near the toilets, start must be near here. Sure enough I find the sign in the darkness, Whitney trail. Crossing underneath the wooden tunnel, I quickly lose the trail. How can it just disappear? You got to be kidding me, this is a well-traveled trail. I stumble around in the darkness, headlamp near useless. Bushwhacking about, I decide to head back to the car and rethink my plan when I stumble onto the trail. Ha! Luck is on my side.
I begin the long slow climb with my 45# pack. I question the layer of clothing in my pack when it begins to snow. Good thing I brought a layer for the cold night. Steady snow, but it is isn't sticking. I later learned that it was a bit of a storm higher up. I snap some pics in the darkness and charge on feeling strong. I reach the Whitney Zone (later my very own death zone). Where is the trail? Unknown to me, my trail was to the right, the Mountaineers route was to the left. I put on my crampons, grab my ice axe and charge up the left trail. This doesn't feel right. This can't be the Whitney trail, it isn't. Bushwhacking again (a reoccurring theme) I find the trail. Sweet, no crampons needed.
Going for a sip of water, it shoots out like a waterfall, what's going on? The silicone piece had come off in my bushwhacking. I finally reach the first camp at 10400 feet and meet Rahul and Himani. We decide to band together and become fast friends (this story may have had a different outcome without them). They are as green at mountaineering as I, but have made better decisions. They had already spent a night at 10k ft to acclimate. As a beast, I need no acclimatization!
It is now 9:30 am, perfect. We can easily make trail camp by noon I think. Completely disregarding that it took me 6 hours to climb 2k feet. We head on at a slow pace taking frequent rest. Chatting and laughing, we are tired but optimistic. We reach a small, steep snowy hill, better put on crampons. I charge up it ahead of Himani, who had been our de facto leader. Two older men follow us up in just boots and hiking sticks, one is in shorts! At this stage I have my ski gloves on.
The older men then discover the trail we should have took instead of the hill. They head up ahead of us, to summit in shorts I assume. Sitting down I take my pack off for a rest. When I pick up my pack I notice water on the ground! The tube had flipped open and with no silicone piece all my water poured out! Crap! Himani assures me they have plenty of water for the three of us. Rahul has plenty of fuel to melt snow.
The altitude, lack of sleep, and physical exhaustion are starting to take a toll on me. I feel a surge of energy to make the trail camp. It was the last of my energy. After a short lunch break we reach the Meadow, 11400 ft. It is late in the evening, I am beat. I have a head ache, eyes hurt, I am nauseous. Himani asks me how I am, I lie. Just a little headache I tell her. She later told me I was barely making my steps. I can't imagine Everest.
We reach a traverse, I can't do it. Steep and snowy, the fall would be epic and life threatening. I concede defeat. I need to camp lower. We aren't any higher than 11600, if that. Himani decides it is too risky as well and we all head down to what I now know was Outpost camp. We are about 11460 feet, we thought we were closer to 12k at the time.
It is now about 6pm when we make camp. 15 hours of rucking up the mountain, I am destroyed. I take two bites of dinner and drift off to sleep in high winds and bitter cold. Luckily, I had a good sleep system and stayed warm through the night. Except when I realized I left my sweater out of my bag. Was like putting a block of ice in the bag, but I needed to warm it up before putting it on.
The next morning was sunny and cool. A stark difference from the cloudy cold day before. Rahul and Himani decide to head up, I must go down. They had wisely put in for a 4 day permit. I later learned that it took them 4 hours to complete the last mile to high camp, they had taken the mountaineers route to skip the traverse thinking it was only just over the ridge.
They set me up with a liter of water and I headed down, it is 930 am. Wanting to skip a scramble I take the snow route through the meadow ...I descended too far. Where is the trail? Slight panic. The Mountaineers route looks to begin a steep drop. I climb back up a small ways to find the trail. There it is, but none of this looks familiar. I must have been tired the other day as I do not see any other option. Moving along the path it becomes clear this is not the Whitney trail, but it is descending. Towards Mirror Lake, I can take the Whitney from there. The trail disappears a few times beneath the snow but faded footsteps lead me in the right direction. Then, it is gone. I go over to a section I think I see footprints... they are animal prints, not boots. Can I take this way down? Is there a drop off or does it at least descend to a relatively easy scramble? I must slide off a rock, getting back up will be difficult in my state. I go for it. More bushwhacking. I scramble down, sometimes on my butt, hanging onto saplings, but getting closer to that lake.
Out of nowhere, a trail. Thank God! It leads me to the Whitney trail at Mirror Lake. Mostly covered in snow, it's an alternate route whose name I know not, care not. I need off this damn mountain. I'm out of water, it's now hot as a summer day. I scoop water from a stream of melting snow. Particles fill my cup with the water. I hope it's not feces or a rotting animal. I drink up. I follow the still unfamiliar path to the first camp. A couple is camped there, I collapse beneath the tree exhausted. They offer me water and insist I fill my bag. After a rest, I feel better and continue down. As I get lower I get stronger. Below 10k feet I feel good and make my way to the bottom. I leave Mt Whitney Portal at 1pm.
It was a terrible, horrible, rotten, no-good, best experience of my life. I will be back. The mountains still call. But perhaps, a little wiser.
