2MoreMiles…

Most of us were asleep before the sun finally set, and sounds of snoring and an increasing wind were the night’s lullaby.  I got up once to pee in the middle of the night, and ended up star gazing till the night’s chill chased me back into the warmth and comfort of our tent.  I awoke just before the sun began peaking over the mountains across the valley below.  All was quiet.  A gentle wind rustled against the rain-fly of our tent.  I peaked my head out to the scene of brilliant oranges and rich red hues.  A silhouette sat upright on the edge of a pancaked boulder.  I snugged my woolen hat and grabbed my phone in hopes of capturing the brilliant spectacle of light that was morning in the mountains.  I shuffled over to the silhouette, it was Jan.   We remarked how ironic it was that it wasn’t until our last day that we awoke to see the sun rise.  Maybe the other days were not as spectacular and our bodies just knew it, and remanded us to sleep.

As we watched the sun ease its way into the morning, others began to emerge from their tents and gaze in quiet awe.  I returned to our tent to rouse Paul, as this was a sunrise that should not to be missed.  Somehow it is always better to share a moment of beauty than to keep it to ones self.  The three of us basked in the peaceful brilliance until daylight had fully awakened.  Soon more heads began to emerge from tents scattered in-between this boulder strewn landscape.  We would be headed down, while other’s adventures were just beginning.  As we sipped our coffees and ate what little breakfasts we had left, we watched as pods of would be summiteers, some boldly and others tentatively, shuffled across the snow field to setup for their 1800 ft climb of the snow chute.  It still being early in morning, the sun had not yet reached the face of the chute, and as such it’s face would be stiff and icy.  A miss step would bring certain regression to ones starting place, if one were not careful.  Some stood at the apex of snow and what should have been the beginning of the 99 switchbacks, bewildered and uneasy.  Others searched unsuccessfully for even faint traces of the switchbacks hoping beyond hope that they could avoid the arduous climb up the steep wall of icy snow.

We surveyed the route and pointed, using Scout’s binoculars to zoom in on the triumphant climbers who would only have another 2 miles to climb before reaching their goal, and the sullen who had met their match and were returning to camp…resolving to give it another try when conditions are not so “challenging”.  One would think that it being our last morning, wherein we would be heading back to “civilization” for un-rehydrated food, a hot shower and clean odoriferous free clothing, that we would be sufficiently motivated to rise early and pack swiftly.  This was not the case, as with all other mornings spent on this adventure.  No sense of hurry or urgency was detected or employed.  The plan the night before was to try and head out no later than 0730.  As with each day’s goal(s), we were “close enough” without “encouragement”.  Scout as always, sat “ready” at the appointed time and patiently watched as the rest of our crew finished one thing or another.  Soon everyone was packed and “ready” to go.  Scout made his usual “announcement “, “Who’s NOT ready?”, which when you think about it is a perfect thing to ask.  Not a sound, which meant everyone was “ready”.  Trevor then started to laugh, and asked Scout “Are you sure you’re ready?”, holding up a wayward sock belonging to Scout.  Oops!  Scout hurriedly grabbed the sock, took off his pack and stuffed it in a side pocket.  “Okay, who’s NOT ready now?”  Scout asks once more.  “Umm, that would still be you”, Trevor replied holding up another item belonging to Scout.  What was quiet chuckling now erupted into bent over, pant pissing, laughter.  It was a perfect way to begin the end of this adventure.

A final farewell to the mountain we conquered, and then down we march, single file, toward Whitney Portal.  It’s only 7.6 miles, and downhill all the way, surely we will be to Whitney Portal by 11am we think, and to the Alabama Hills Cafe by noon.  Ha Ha Ha, silly hikers.  As with this entire trip, nothing is at it seems.

The first 3 miles requires attention to ones footing as we traverse over snow and step down and across uneven boulders, all while doing our best to avoid foot soakers in the water pooled and running through a good portion of the trail.  As we approach the tree-line we are treated to one last opportunity to glissade a mere 40 feet.

It is like the “big kid” slide at the park…only steeper.  All but Jody accept the challenge and seize one more opportunity to “play”in the snow.  Jody has had enough sliding and snow, and walks around it.  As we make our way down the trail to the Portal, more and more often, heavily laden hikers and would be summiteers trudge up the trail.  Some with obvious excitement on their faces, others breathing hard and filled with reflection (…and I’m doing this because?…).  Some stop us and ask about trail conditions, and the switchbacks.  We tell them, that the switchbacks are non-existent, and that to summit Mt. Whitney they’ll first have to climb 1800 ft up a snow chute.  Some are prepared, others we are sure will just end up camping at Trail Camp.  We now understand when they say that 2/3 of all people who attempt to climb Mt. Whitney never make it.  So many factors go into that figure.  Trail conditions.  Time of year.  Altitude issues.  Fitness.  Weather.  Skill level.  No wonder people seek to climb this mountain, and do so a multiple of times.  It is a new and different challenge each time.   Most of our group are all in agreement, that this was a ‘One and Done’ venture…for now.  Soon we see patches of asphalt, which means we are almost in spitting distance of the Portal.  It feels like it takes forever to get there.  More and more people clutter the trail as we close in on our end point.  When we reach the trail head at Whitney Portal, a big sigh comes over the group, and then a mad dash to the Forest Service pit toilets and the water faucet ensues.  Once “business” is taken care of we quickly take a “team” picture, as we have no time to lose if we are to “Yogi” a ride down into Lone Pine 13 miles below.  It is 1230 in the afternoon, and one or two cars appear to be heading back down.  We waste little time, cajoling a ride for three of us (JAN, Trevor and Scout) into town.  Paul, April, Jody and I have a bit longer to wait.  We are turned down more than once.  I guess picking up stinky strangers with backpacks is just too risky for some.  Eventually we are graciously given a ride by two young men in separate cars who were hoping to drop one of their cars at the Portal to reclaim once they completed their 3 week hike of the John Muir Trail (JMT).  We told them we ran into the same issues, hence our hitching into town.  They figured it would be “good karma” for them to pick us up, as they too will need the kindness of complete “strangers” when they finish.  They drop us at the Hostel in Lone Pine where we shower and wait for Jan, Trevor and Scout who had made a great decision to collect our two remaining cars at Horseshoe Meadow while they waited for us to Yogi a hitch into town.  Our end goal was to dine at the Alabama Hills Cafe before they close at 2pm.  It is 1:50 when they pull to the curb.  We tentatively pull open the door to the cafe.  “I know it’s almost 2 pm, but any chance you can feed some hungry hikers?  We’ll understand if you are about to close and can’t”, Jan pleads in her most upbeat voice.  ‘Come on in’, the waitress beckons.  Faces glowing red and freshly sunburnt, crisp new t-shirts exclaiming we climbed Mt. Whitney, and hair still wet from a quick and glorious rinse we plop ourselves down and drool over the menu.  The portions are hearty, as is our hunger, for “hiker hunger” had just arrived on our pallet’s door.  We all but practically lick our plates clean.  Fully satiated it is time to part ways and head back to each other’s respective “reality” that awaits our return.  This has been a glorious trip.  Who would have thought that such an eclectic group would fare so well on such an adventure.  Might there be another adventure in store for the Magnificent 7?

My first goal was to have made it to the Trail Junction.  That way I was sure to be able to exit out of Whitney Portal.  Goal #1…Check!  Having accomplished that, I decided to go as far as I could on the 1.9 mile “trail” to the summit, still unsure how much further I could climb without my head blowing up or becoming paralyzed with fear.

We dropped our packs at the junction (which I really thought would be bigger and more pronounced), after having unloaded our “extra” food on some starving PCTers (who later we would discover gave us really bad intel on what we were in for), and began the remaining 1.9 mile (that’s almost 2) climb to Mt. Whitney.  We figured we would be “winded”, but it was “only” 2 miles so we thought we should be to the top in 2-3 hours at the most now that we weren’t weighed down by our packs.  WRONG!  Four hours later, and minus SideKick (she was the smart one who turned around having reached her saturation point for death defying adventure…besides she had already done Whitney many moons ago), we reached the summit of Mt. Whitney.  I can honestly say that I have never been more terrified in my life, and I’ve been in some pretty hairy situations.  Not only was this a serious height situation for me, but had to negotiate hard packed snow and ice that took over parts of the trail in the most inconvenient way, and locations.  When I would start to “freak-out” (which is a really bad thing to do at over 13,000 ft on a narrow icy trail with 1000-2000 ft drops into oblivion, lined with sharp/jagged shards of granite) my son would say, “Look at the rock in front of you.  You’re doing fine. Breathe”, and I would be able to calm down (enough) and continue on.  Unfortunately, this happened with somewhat regular frequency, especially in the seriously sketchy sections.

As I stated before, at one point, and early on into that 1.9 miles, Jody (SideKick) had come to her senses (she was the only one), but I decided, ‘What the Hell, I’ve come this far, why turn back now’.  Again, Jody was the only one with good sense.  As with every challenge, and in this case, a healthy fear of heights, I reckon it’s “Go Big or Go Home!”…so I went ENORMOUS!  The goal now was to make it to the top of Mt. Whitney in one piece, never mind my head exploding.

Up and over the steep icy snow bank that blocked what should have been a perfectly “good” trail I went.  Had I not already taken a crap that morning before we set off, I am confident I would have crapped my pants right then.  Now I was committed.  Scout, April, Trevor, Jan and Paul had already made this crossing and were encouraging me every step of the way.  The problem was that one wrong step (just as it was in the ascent to the trail junction) and you could be playing a harp.  I don’t want to play a harp…just yet.  One of the many things we had going in our favor though was the weather.  We were blessed with absolutely gorgeous clear blue skies with narry a breath of wind.  You could easily see over 100 miles (I could look out at the horizon, but never down).  Beyond the “commitment” point, there were many terrifying moments.  This trail would be treacherous even without horribly placed pockets of snow and ice.  April said after one particularly sketchy stretch, “I can’t believe they let people do this!  I can’t believe I’m doing this!  Why are you letting me do this?”  Even so, we continued on.  Those who had already reached the summit were on the return, moving at what we thought to be an incredibly fast and confident pace, with glowing wide grins, back from whence they came.  I so want to be that person.  The altitude medication I had been taking seemed to be doing the trick.  My head would hurt from time to time as I gained altitude and I would start to become queazy, but once I stopped for a bit, it would pass and I would continue on.  On more than one occassion we ran into recent “summiteers” who in their haste to get back down the mountain, forgot “trail etiquette “(uphill hikers have the “right of way”) and would expect us going uphill to step aside and “give way” to them as they scampered down the mountain.  Often times it was advantageous, in that we needed to catch our breath anyways, and would step aside, or stop and let them pass.  On one particular occassion, in the middle of a lengthy 60 degree pitch snow field, almost near the top we ran head-on into a group of 6 that expected us to move.  At this particular juncture I was not about to breach trail etiquette and froze in my tracks.  I had made it thus far without falling off the mountain and was not about to misstep here, so I stood my ground.  Besides they have already been to the top, so they had that going for them.  Trevor was more than slightly annoyed that they expected us to “give way”, and asked the lead guy, “So, Dude, What’s your plan?  It should have been obvious from the beginning, that they should have waited for us to negotiate this stretch as there was no “natural” place to step aside.  I can only assume that their euphoria for making it to the top overwhelmed their senses…in every way.  Thusly, I maintained my “deer in the headlights”, frozen in time stance, as I was not about to do anything but step into the already established snowy tread that I was ahead of me.  They were going to have to either go back or go around.  It was everything I could do to maintain my composure, as I dare not look down for fear of conguring up a case of vertigo.  Eventually they chose to step up and around us (which made me even more nervous), all the while looking at us like we were the idiots.  Well that was “fun”, I said to Trevor once we made it to a “natural” step aside point and caught our breath.  Just prior to finally summiting we looked back from whence we came in this video below.

Overall, April, Jan and Scout picked their way up the trail to the summit seemingly with ease. Scout negotiated the trail hazards with apparent ease, as he is nimble and sure footed.  April was experiencing headaches, but they would pass in short order, allowing her to continue her climb to the mountain’s top.  Jan had no problem looking over the edge, taking pictures, and talking the entire time.  Some of her talk (especially on the way back), I had to “shush”, when she would say things like, ‘Wow, if you slip here it would probably kill you’, or ‘I’d hate to break a leg here’.  Not exactly helpful when one (me) is already terrified and gets nervous climbing a ladder, let alone 14,000+ feet.  Other than that, she is one of the most unflappable and upbeat persons I have ever met.  As I continued to make my way up the “trail”, Paul and Trevor were my “bookends”, leading the way and helping me to quell my now absolutely reasonable fear of heights.  Look to the horizon, don’t freak out, breathe, one foot in front of the other, catch your breath, plant your poles, move…was my mantra to the top.  Summiting Mt. Whitney was something I never thought I would be able to do, and I was prepared to be “happy”, and frankly satisfied with making it higher than Forrester Pass (13,153 ft ) to Trail Crest Junction (13, 519 ft).

But more importantly being able to share this with my son (who had attempted once before, but had to retreat due to altitude sickness), my husband and good friends made it ever so much more special.  Once reaching the top, our breathing became less labored.  In fact, I was no longer winded, nor did my lungs ache for a higher concentration of oxygen.  I couldn’t frown if I wanted to.  It’s like gravity reversed itself.  We took a plethora of pictures, but none do this climb justice as they only paint a “two-dimensional” picture of what it is to climb a mountain, to test your skills, to temper fears, and to soak in the abject beauty of the moment and the views.  An entire dictionary of words, library of videos, and/or album of pictures are not sufficient to re-enact or truly communicate this “six-dimensional” experience…even though we try.

Soon it is time to head back to the trail junction, as our adventure is not over…just yet.  We still have to make it safely back over all the sketchy parts we willed ourselves over and through in quickly softening snow and melting ice.  As you can see Jan and Scout had no problem “scampering” down the trial.

Looming in the forefront of our minds is the fact that we still have to retrieve our packs and don them once more for our descent to Trail Camp (“Outpost” as some call it).  Ah, but we will do this with a huge smile and with the confidence that we have successfully traversed this path before.

But wait!  The day is not over yet.  What goes up…must come down, and it is not necessarily pretty.

…to be continued