This forum has been so helpful in planning for our trip that I wanted to share current information that might prepare readers to tackle this challenge. This will be lengthy; I wanted to include as many details as possible for those avid researchers.
First, a few details to frame my report:
1. My husband (age 55) and I (age 52) are what I would call well-conditioned athletes (I run; he bikes) who are avid hikers but NOT experienced mountaineers. (He’s climbed Kenya twice and Holy Cross in CO, neither of which required any equipment.)
2. We trained by ramping up our regular workouts a bit. Our longest training hike was 14.5 miles with 4200 feet of elevation gain (up to 5900 ft.).
Trip Report:
We left the Portal at 3:20am and returned at 7:05pm, for a 15 ¾ hour day. Many people recommended leaving earlier, but we bargained on the trade off of getting a little more sleep. This worked well for us.
We took the Old Trail up and down (it has a separate thread in this forum). It’s slightly shorter and avoids the first major water crossing, which was nice first thing in the morning.
We brought water shoes, since the trail is still covered in water for over 100 feet before you get to Outpost Camp. We hid them behind a rock as we started the ascent on the other side of Outpost Camp.
At Trail Camp, we refilled our 3.0 L Camelbacks about 2/3 full. That was a mistake; we needed every drop of water they would hold before we returned to water about eight hours later. We arrived at Trail Camp by 7:30, but it about 20 minutes to get water and put our crampons on. (Some folks put them on at the first snowfield, but we thought it would be easier in boots.
The Chute: This is what transformed the climb from grueling to the most demanding physical activity we’ve ever taken on. We’d rented crampons—an absolute MUST, regardless of what you read elsewhere—but not ice axes (a mistake). We hesitated on the ice ax because we thought we shouldn’t learn a new technical skill on Mount Whitney, but we talked to several people who used them successfully for the first time on Whitney. Short answer: mastering glissading with the ice ax is bound to be less daunting than making your way down the chute without one.
We ascended the chute by taking short, slow steps. We’re in pretty good shape, and it still took about 2 hours from Trail Camp to Trail Crest. (The route begins with a moderate uphill, proceeds to a plodding traverse that leads to the base of the chute itself, which is really tall and really steep!)
We paused for about ten minutes at Trail Crest to eat. We also scanned the skies over the Sierras. By 9:45, there was one fairly harmless looking gray cloud above, along with a gray line of clouds over the very distant horizon. We continued on.
The last section of the trail is rolling, with lots of sheer drop offs—a couple of times, in both directions. I have some aversions to heights (“and why did you climb a mountain?” you might ask); knowing about these ahead of time helped me not spend worry-energy on them. They’re really no big deal.
Near the summit, the trail continues into a still-significant snowfield that you really don’t want to cross after navigating the chute. Fortunately, there’s an alternative: look for a cairn on the right marking a reasonable goat trail up. If you miss the trail (as we did numerous times) just keep heading up. As you approach the shelter, notice where you’re coming off the goat trail so that you don’t make our mistake: we followed the main trail down until we realized it would involve snow. We decided to go BACK UP to take the alternative path.
Now for the fun. As we reached the summit, little bits of frozen precip started to fall. Not sure if it was sleet or cold hail. It tapered off most of the way back to Trail Crest. It was while we were on the way down the chute that it started in earnest, complete with thunder and lightning.
Meanwhile, since we’d opted out of ice axes, we decided to try to use our crampons/poles for brakes in a sort of semi-glissading. It wasn’t pretty. I started slipping out of control almost immediately. My spouse reached over to stop me and got caught with me. We slipped about 40 or 50 feet at increasing speed (did I say it’s steep?) until we both used crampons/poles to stop us. Humbled, we decided to go down backwards, on hands, knees, elbows, and feet. It took about 2 hours to get down, but at least we were safe.
On the way down, we lost our way near Trailside Meadows. Not sure if it was us or the trail markings, but pay attention.
I’ll conclude with final thoughts on what went well and what I’d do differently.
What Worked:
1. Pacing. We felt fine at the end of the hike. I think this has to do mostly with pacing. We deliberately tried to stay out of the “red zone” and stopped only briefly and occasionally. We tried to hike at a pace that allowed us to enjoy the scenery, which was lovely, especially before the storm set in.
2. Food/hydration: “Eat before you’re hungry; drink before you’re thirsty.” We used Nuuns (sp?) in our first batch of water, which probably helped. Also did Shot Blocks before we started the chute in both directions.
3. Mindset: I decided not to let fear join us on the hike. I knew it would be harrowing but didn’t want to spend energy worrying.
What I’d Do Differently Next Time:
1. Ice Ax: Enough said.
2. Water proof gloves, jacket, and pants. I had a rain jacket and pants, but they weren't truly water proof. Did I say it rained all the way down? Our hands have a touch of frostbite, since we used them all the way up and down the chute.
3. Weather: Expect and plan for the worst. The forecast was a 20 percent chance of storms, but weather was a factor from about noon on. Unless you're okay with dealing with weather, definitely turn back at Trail Crest if you see what we saw. (We're from the East Coast, which made a return trip unlikely, so we went for it.)
