Mount Whitney in California's Sierra Nevada range, 14,495 feet, as seen from the East during winter

It was Roland's idea. He had often talked of wanting to climb Whitney. We tried to do a three-day trek two years ago but lost the permit lottery and couldn't go. This spring he suggested we do the 22-mile roundtrip ascent in one day which at first left me a bit daunted and doubtful. But Roland began using phrases like "a serious physical challenge" and "we'll have bragging rights" and like it or not the tetosterone kicked in and I became a willing, indeed eager companion. I also realized it was very effective motivation to get in better shape. Over the preceeding six months, the two of us logged a couple of hundred miles each as we hit any trail in the Bay Area with a hint of elevation.

Mount Whitney has become a very popular mountain to climb. As the highest point in the continental United States (14,495 feet) it is a tempting challenge. And while it is a physically demanding climb it is not a technical one. It's a Class 1 hiking trail that anyone in good condition can manage. In fact a woman named Hulda Crooks climbed it for the first time at 66 and did it every year until she was 88. Whitney is not Everest and a serious mountaneer would laugh and climb it after Thanksgiving dinner to get some air. So to make it more of a challenge, we decided to do it in one day as do two-thirds of the 150 people who are allowed on the eleven mile Mount Whitney Trail each day.

We had planned to arrive two days before the ascent so we could have a reasonable shot at being acclimatized from our normal lives at sea level in the Bay Area. But that plan didn't hold and we started the 460 mile drive to Lone Pine on Friday arriving at 5:00 pm, the night before the ascent. The loss of the extra day's preparation at altitude and the suprisingly long eight hour drive deflated our confidence in successfully reaching the summit the next day. We tried to boost each other's spirits by reluctantly agreeing that making it only halfway would be a great experience and we would come back next year for another try. After a campfire-grilled steak dinner we burrowed into our sleeping bags for a short night's sleep. We were up at 3:00 and at the Whitney Portal trailhead for a 4:00 am start.

The first two hours were in total darkeness and we hiked under headlamps. I used a new Black Diamond four LED headlamp which generates a broad and even beam of light and lasts seventy hours on three AAA batteries. I hoped I wouldn't need seventy hours, but the quality of light was just what I needed. The initial stages went by quickly and by 6:00 am we approached Lone Pine Lake along with the first light of dawn.

The Mount Whitney Trail is beautiful from beginning to end. The early stages progress through pinion pines, jeffrey pines, lodge pole pines interspersed with rocky outcroppings and scrub oak.

Above the tree line the beauty is austere but stunning with vast morains, jumbles of large granite boulders, and the sheer faces of the Whitney crest and Mount Thor. The textures and colors change throughout the day as the shadows lengthen and sun casts its glow from one rock face to another.

From Lone Pine Lake we hiked on to Outpost Camp and Mirror Lake. At this point the massive bowl formed by the rocky cliffs of Mount Thor on the left and Whitney on the right comes into view. It was stunning for its beauty and for the reminder that our legs still had to carry us an additional 4,000 vertical feet. Outpost Camp is the first of two campsites on the Whitney Trail and is used by people doing the ascent over three days. Outpost also has an attractive though odoriferous redwood "solor" toilet. Neither of us had a clue as to how a solor toilet operated and we were even less inclined to ask.

Our earlier notions of traveling at a modest two miles per hour now seemed absurd. For those of us who live at sea level, the air was fraudulently lacking in its basic ingredients. This air wasn't good enough to be called AirLite™.

We reached the 6.3 mile point at Trail Camp at 9:00 am. Trail Camp is the most heavily used of the two camps. Along with a small lake and countless marmots it sits on a rocky treeless plateau at the base of the 8th stage, the dreaded 97 Switchbacks. We had heard that Trail Camp was an unkempt and unattractive place but were surprised to find otherwise. It was clean, orderly, and dotted with about two dozen colorful tents and maybe twice that many people -- either on their way up or on their way down. Roland and I each had a large turkey sandwich while tossing handfuls of crushed granite at the adorable, aggressive, and apparently rabid marmots to keep them at bay. Roland used a water purifier to refill our six 1-quart water bottles. All advise that the best way to ward off the ill effects of high altitude is to drink lots of water and we had each consumed something over two quarts over the first five hours of the climb.

The 97 Switchbacks is the stage where psychological determination becomes far mare important than physical conditioning. While neither one of us felt our legs were giving out or our feet failing us, we both began to feel extreme fatigue and persistent shortness of breath. Halfway up my body began reminding me in a hundred little ways how much more comfortable in would be back in that sleeping bag in Lone Pine, the one with the nice inflated Thermarest mattress. But my mind, and Roland's as well, responded a bit more strongly: we had gotten this far and damn it we weren't going to turn back! That angry internal dialog continued with each and every step until finally we reached Trail Crest at the elevation of 13,700 feet, 8.5 miles from the trailhead at Whitney Portal.

Trail Crest sits along the high, needle-pointed ridge of Whitney and marks the first point where you can look out on broad vistas both east and west, across the Inyo Mountains to Death Valley in the east and over the lower mountains of the Sierra Nevada to the San Joaquin Valley looking west.

From Trail Crest the last 2.2 mile stage of the ascent switches to the western side of Whitney. Compared to the sheer massif of the eastern face, the back side drops off with a comparatively graceful 45 degree slope -- though a good number of sheer drops are tossed in for fun. The trail winds around the four pinacles which stand to the south of Whitney's peak and then traverses the last slope to the Summit. The pinnacle furthest south from Whitney is named for John Muir, the man most responsible for the preservation of America's wilderness (Whitney is named for Josiah Dwight Whitney, California's first state geologist). The trail follows rock ledges along the sheer faces of the needles and steps across the sills of the huge windows between them, windows which open to sudden panoramas facing east.

It's not nearly as dangerous as it sounds. The trail is wide enough and typically edged with boulders such that an accidental 2,000 foot fall is nearly impossible. But looking over the sharp edge between life and death does make your heart beat just a bit faster.

Roland fears nothing

Finally, at 1:30 in the afternoon, nine and a half hours after we started, we stumbled onto the summit. Unlike the pinnacles to the south, the Whitney summit is very spacious, easily a few acres in size, and includes a small stone hut which was built by the Smithsonian Institution in 1923 for weather observations. There is also a register in a metal case that is signed by all who make it to the top. Since this was only eleven days after the attack on the World Trade Center there were a dozen or so flags left at the summit's highest point along with one beautifully made flag of small stones.

Ironically, having worked so hard to get here, it was nearly impossible to fully enjoy it. Here you are on top of the continent but so exhausted you don't want to move one step more than necessary. We had enough energy to relish that we actually made it to the top but not nearly enough to saunter around the summit to explore every view. "Move over there for a picture from a different angle." I don't think so! Of course it should be pointed out that the summit is a tangle of large granite boulders so moving from place to place isn't a simple walk across a lawn. We ate a few granola bars. I called Mitzi on my cellphone and then Roland called Carla. Just for fun I tried to send an email but the connection was "only good enough" for a phone call.

While our visual senses were overwhelmed, we were also struck by the deathly quiet at 14,495 feet. There wasn't a tree within 4,000 vertical feet to amplify the gusts of summit wind. But the eyes won today's sensory prize. From any single spot on this penultimate crest of the Sierra Nevada one had 360 degree panoramic view looking hundreds of miles away. And looking downward your eyes shot down nearly three vertical miles to the dry bed of Owens Lake and the depths of the eastern California desert. Here we are at the the highest point in the lower 48 states, Mount Whitney, and within view only 100 miles off is the lowest point in the US (280 feet below sea level), Death Valley. We are standing on one and seeing the other.

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We left the summit at 2:15. The descent was comparatively speedy and allowed us to see all the glorious views that were behind us on the way up. Gravity was on our side now so gasping for air was a thing of the past. However, gravity was also now pounding our knees and feet with each of those 5,000 descending stair steps. I developed blisters on the sides of both heels coming down the 97 Switchbacks so had to spend thirty minutes patching them with moleskin. Roland loves a fast descent and also wanted to avoid having to hike with his headlamp so he headed down on his own. After repairs, my feet felt pretty good and since every step was going to hurt whether done fast or slow I began descending at a very fast clip as well.

Just above Outpost Camp I slipped on a rock while fording a very small stream and fell face forward into the stream bed. It was one of those experiences where your mind processes 1.2 seconds in extreme slow motion. I remember hitting the ground and thinking, "well at least I haven't hurt myself" when my head snapped forward smacking my face and glasses onto a rock, jamming one of the hooks of my clip-on sunglasses into my cheek. There was someone approaching behind me and my embarrassment was now painted red with blood. But it was just a deep scratch and this pleasant fellow named Phil jerked me to my feet with a pleasant, supporting laugh. He was hiking alone and seemed to want some company so we fast-walked and fast-talked together for the remaining three hours, the last one under headlamps.

Roland got back to Whitney Portal in a little over five hours and I finished in about six. Overall, the roundtrip times were about fifteen hours for Roland and sixteen for me. Simultaneously exhausted and exhilarated we headed back into Lone Pine for a long night of aching rest.

Richard Gingras                 
richard@richardgingras.com