Back to Mt Whitney
MOUNT WHITNEY
OCTOBER 1985
Mount Whitney is located on the eastern border of Sequoia National Park. The mountain is the highest point in California as well as being the highest point in the conterminous United States (lower 48). Depending on which source you take as the truth its summit is between 14,494 and 14,496 feet (usually accepted is the first value). The normal trail head for climbing it is Whitney Portal at about 8,400 feet. The portal is reached by a paved road from Lone Pine, which is on US 395 in the Owens Valley. From the trail head the summit is about 10.7 miles and is a very popular climb. The summit is about 85 crow fly miles west north west of Bad Water. Bad Water, in Death Valley, is the lowest point in California and the United States at -282 feet.
In the Whitney area the eastern face of the Sierras tower close to two miles above the near by Owens Valley, but the peaks in the range don't tower over each other by very much. There are four peaks within five miles of the summit that are over fourteen thousand feet, and within ten or fifteen miles there are dozens of peaks which are well over thirteen thousand feet above sea level.
Mike a friend from work, whom I had climbed with once before, decided that if we were going to go climbing together again we might as well go for the big one. We spent three days climbing the mountain, one day to base camp, one day to the summit and back, and one day out from base camp. I have climbed harder mountains since Whitney (Rainier for one), but so far nothing higher.
Before leaving the bay area we checked with the ranger station in the Whitney vicinity for the current conditions. We were told a storm had hit the high area a week before and some people had been temporarily trapped on the summit. They recommended we carry ice axes and crampons, which we ended up having to rent for the trip. Because our boots weren't stiff enough we were only able to rent instep crampons which turned out to be sufficient for the climb. We had wanted to climb the mountain earlier in the season but Whitney is very popular and the October date was the only time we could get a permit for. The road leading up to Whitney Portal is quite steep and Mike's small five speed pickup truck had to drop into first gear several times to manage it and occasionally one wondered what gear was below first. Lone Pine back at the bottom of Owens Valley is several thousand feet below the portal which is at about eighty four hundred feet. The summit of Mt. Whitney is about ten and a half miles from the portal and is well over a mile in elevation higher. We hadn't seen the mountain coming up the road from the valley the night before because of the darkness and it would be a long time on the trail before it would come into view.
While starting out from the portal we learned that some of the people starting the climb were support teams for a iron man competition that was going on that weekend. The object was to ride a bicycle from Death Valley to the portal and then climb Mt. Whitney all within twenty four hours. Although the competitors didn't have to carry packs I was still glad that I was only climbing the mountain. The road up to the portal was steep but there were two other passes from Death Valley that were just as bad or worse. You have to in really good shape to go from the lowest point in the United States to the highest point in the lower forty eight by your own muscle power in a day.
The trail initially started out going in the wrong direction. Although we began to gain altitude we were heading northeast climbing up the side of the ridge actually heading down the valley instead of southwest following up the valley. Within half a mile the trail took a giant switch back and started heading in the right direction. The trail clung to the side of the wooded valley wall and eventually we passed back by the portal which by then was four hundred feet below us. The trail then passed over the North Fork of Lone Pine Creek which joined up with Lone Pine Creek back down at the portal. The north fork comes down out of the Boy Scout Lake basin from the north side of Pinnacle Ridge. The basin is a popular picture angle of Mount Whitney even though there is no trail marked on the map to that area.
The trail then began to form a short series of switch backs and started into a more open area. The terrain was strewn with rocks, covered with long dried grasses, short bushes, and medium sized stands of evergreens. Along with the evergreens there were deciduous trees decked out in their brilliant fall colors, mostly brilliant yellows. At about that time we came across some deer standing next to the trail. They seemed to know they were in no danger of being hunted and on the drive out we saw the same three deer running along side the road near the portal.
What appeared to be a high peak came into view on the left or southern side of the valley. Latter as we got up higher it turned out to be only part of the ridge heading up to 13,770 foot Mt. Irvine. Often what appears as a high peak on the way up loses its dominance of the horizon as you grow even with it and then loses all significance as you leave it far below. After the switch backs the trail ran fairly straight for a while and at about ninety two hundred feet we drew along side Lone Pine Creek.
The trail then went through some serious switch backs always returning to the creek area until finally we followed along side the creek for a while eventually crossing it for the first time. The map showed us near Lone Pine Lake but the lake couldn't be seen from the trail because of the trees. The ten thousand foot high lake feeds Lone Pine Creek but it isn't the source of it. The source of the creek is Outpost Camp at the twelve thousand foot level which we were planning on reaching that day and making our base camp. The trail finally pulled out of the trees and we were able to look back down on the lake. From our vantage point the lake appeared to be sitting before a precipice which immediately fell away at the lakes back side to reveal a view of the lower north ridge of the valley. Earlier the ridge had appeared very high but by now we were about even with it.
The trail continued to climb for a short distance and then leveled off into a large meadow at about ten thousand three hundred feet. At the near end of Pinnacle Ridge, Thor Peak loomed as an ashen sentinel, standing guard two thousand feet over the browning meadow. The meadow was easy going and was a welcome break from the constant climbing we had been doing. The trail meandered through the meadow crossing the creek several times on its journey to the slightly higher southwest end. At the upper end of the meadow the trail began climbing in earnest again through the scattered trees up to Mirror Lake.
Unlike with Lone Pine Lake, the trail passed right next to Mirror Lake and you didn't have to wonder exactly where its location was. After crossing the stream exiting the lake the trail climbed up out of the trees at about the eleven thousand foot level. In some areas of the Sierras once you get to a certain level the larger trees are replaced by scattered stunted trees and low bushes but on the way to Whitney once we got above a certain point the woody vegetation completely disappeared. About the only thing we found above the eleven thousand foot level were occasional brown tufts of dead grass and these pretty much disappeared around the twelve thousand foot level. With nothing in view but rock the trail soon seemed to be passing through a barren lunar landscape. There was no danger of losing the way because the trail was well maintained and well marked by the passing of so many people. Being the highest point in the conterminous United States, and easily accessible to the populous Southern California area, there is a tremendous pilgrimage to the summit throughout the summer season. Being late in the season and having the number of parties controlled by permits there weren't too many people around while we were there but the damage done by heavy usage was sometimes evident especially at Outpost Camp and the summit.
As the trail continued to rise we were greeted by a view of 12,800 foot Wotans throne which meant we were nearing or destination for the day, Outpost Camp. After hours on the trail we were both beginning to tire and a known reference point was a welcome sight. Between the throne on the left and part of Pinnacle Ridge on the right there appeared a sharp toothed ridge behind them. At the time we weren't sure if we were looking at Mt. Whitney in the distance or not but we found out latter we had been looking at a part of the final ridge leading to the mountain. We hadn't seen the mountain yet that day and it turned out we didn't end up seeing the summit until the second day. As we continued to trudge along and hopefully approach the end of that days trek, we came upon Consultation Lake at a little over eleven and a half thousand feet. Besides the lake our lunar landscape had gained a new non lunar feature, snow. Behind the lake, thirteen thousand foot Arc Pass stretched between Mt. Irvine and Mt. McAdie and in the shelter of its eastern shadows, snow fields had survived the hot dry summer. After passing the view of the lake we continued on for about another half a mile and gratefully came upon Outpost Camp which sits at just over twelve thousand feet in elevation.
It was pure enjoyment to divest ourselves of our heavy packs. After smoking, drinking, and not exercising for long periods of time it is a bit hard on the body to spend eight hours at almost continuous hard physical work. At about the time I finally call it quits for the day I usually swear that the next time I looking for something to do I'm going to go to the beach, but I never do. Besides eventually after the earth's volcanism and plate tectonics cease, and erosion takes it toll, the mountains will be the beach, but probably not in my time. Mike set up his dome tent but I decided not to share it with him. Instead I set about repairing a short rock wall which faced the prevailing western wind in the cairn I had selected. Some of the people involved with the iron man competition had made a camp not far from ours. During our climb to the base camp one of the unburdened competitors had gone zipping by us. I don't remember any other evident entrants besides the one guy passing us. He made it to the summit that evening under the time limit and climbed back down to the camp his support team had set up. They had a fairly boisterous celebration going that evening. The over use or abuse of the area was easily evident around Outpost Camp especially when just about every rock you looked under you found human excrement. We had been warned not to use any water found in the area without treating or boiling it.
After the sun had dropped over the western ridge that was still fifteen hundred to two thousand feet above us the temperature dropped quickly. There was no way to build a fire because of the lack of fuel for it, but we had both brought stoves. Mike had his white gas stove and I had my butane one. Butane stops boiling off at about the freezing point of water at sea level but as the altitude increases the boiling point lowers. At our twelve thousand foot elevation the stove could still function down to about ? degree Fahrenheit. Although it worked it didn't work as well as it does on a nice warm day nor as well as Mikes gas stove did. I managed to cook up some macaroni and cheese which took a lot longer than it should have because of the lower boiling point of the water. It is better to carry food that just requires hot or boiling water instead of actual cooking. It saves on time and precious fuel.
I slept in my long underwear and clothes inside my bag and that night wasn't too uncomfortable. The wind wasn't a major factor and I got to go to sleep looking at the sky. I don't know how cold if got that night but the next morning Mike's tent had frost on it and the small amount of water I had left in one of my pots had frozen. The next morning dawned clear and we started to prepare to hike to the summit. There wasn't much preparation involved because we brought very little with us. I brought an ice axe, instep crampons, a pair of gloves, sun glasses, a canteen, a wind breaker, some munchies, cigarettes, and a San Francisco Giants cap.
From Outpost Camp 14,015 foot Mt. Muir started an almost fourteen thousand foot high ridge which stretched north to Mt. Whitney. Only a little bit of the sheer faced jagged ridge was visible before it disappeared behind Wotans Throne. Just to the south of Mt. Muir and north of Mt. McAdie a part of the vertical ridge was laid back to about a forty five degree angle. The trail worked its way up this section to 13,480 foot Trail Crest where it split at the pass. One part became the John Muir Trail and dropped west over the pass and down towards Kern Canyon to join the Pacific Crest Trail. The other part turned north and terminated at the summit of Mt. Whitney.
Just after starting out from our base camp Mike filled up with water from the shallow run off pools near the base of the ridge. I had half a canteen full and decided I could afford to wait until latter to worry about water. That turned out to be a major mistake. We didn't come across any more water on the way to the summit and weren't carrying a stove to melt snow. One of my main problems at higher altitudes is my dry throat. I would usually either drink a lot of water which made me feel bloated or gargle with water and spit it out which was a waste. On this climb a carried some chewing gum which helped me to keep salivating but after the gum lost its flavor I would discard it. When I began to run out of gum and water I even tried putting a pebble in my mouth to encourage salivation and create some relief for my throat.
After making our way to the base of the ridge the trail to the pass involved snow covered switch backs which were easily managed because the morning sun had softened the snow. We were carrying ice axes and instep crampons but they were not needed. After gaining about twelve hundred feet through the use of the switch backs the trail made almost straight across the face of the ridge to the pass. While negotiating the switch backs the trail had pretty much been hemmed in by a low shoulder of rocks. When it wasn't somewhat protected a slip would probably only cause you to end up on a lower switch back of the trail. Once the trail became a long straight run to the pass there was nothing on the down hill side to keep your first missed step from becoming a very long one.
At the pass we took a break and I had a cigarette which I needed like another hole in the head. My lungs had been starting to strain with the altitude and I was beginning to get a slight headache, which is the first symptom of altitude sickness. At the pass there was a sign announcing the border of Sequoia National Park. The pass also marked the county boundary between leaving Inyo and entering Tulare county and the southern end of the John Muir trail.
Looking slightly south of west through the pass the foreground was dominated by the horizontal rectangular bulk of Mt. Hitchcock whose mile and a half distant summit stood about three hundred feet below us. It's sheer fifteen hundred foot face plunged down to rock bound and desolate Hitchcock lakes. As Whitney creek left Hitchcock lakes and dropped down to around the eleven thousand foot level scattered trees appeared and then as the valley continued to drop forestation began in earnest. About six miles off in the distance the twenty five hundred foot deep Kern Canyon formed a very noticeable north south break in the dense trees. The canyon was bisected almost due west of us by the Kern Kaweah River coming in from the west, and south of Kern Point. About eleven miles off from us, visible behind Mt. Hitchcock the 13,800 foot Mt. Kaweah and the Kaweah Peaks Ridge loomed on the horizon.
Looking northwest the foreground was occupied by the rather plain ridge of Mt. Young. Although the same height as Mt. Hitchcock it lacked the impressive vertical face of its cross valley neighbor. Behind Mt. Young the twelve mile distant horizon was most noticeably dominated by aptly named Table Mountain. The upper ramparts of the mountain leveled off to form a huge flat topped table or plateau at about 13,600 feet. Just south of Table Mountain were the more traditional peaks of the equally high Midway And Milestone Mountains. Just north of the table was the small sharp peak of Thunder mountain.
Just around the corner from the pass we found that someone had stashed their heavy pack. They were evidently diverting to climb to the summit unencumbered while either starting or ending a major trek. We also found a sign still mostly buried in the snow stating two miles to the summit and a little less then nine miles back to the trail head at Whitney Portal. Having two miles to gain one thousand feet in elevation sounded like a cake walk to me but it turned out to be the hardest two miles I'd ever done up to that time. My headache intensified and I wasn't carrying any aspirin, my throat felt like it was on fire and I was running out of water, and my lungs just couldn't seem to get enough air. From the pass the trail followed close to the western cliffs which were sheer but only a few hundred feet high compared to the fifteen hundred foot cliffs we had looked up at from base camp on the eastern side of the ridge. After a while the trail began to meander through boulders comprising the relatively gently sloped western side of the ridge. Supposedly a long time ago both sides of the Sierra in the area had the same sloped appearance until a major earthquake dropped Owens Valley thousands of feet resulting in a sharp steep eastern side. After passing Mt. Muir the trail climbed up along the top of the ridge and we were finally greeted with a view of Mt. Whitney itself. The western side appeared as a gently sloped rock strewn dome and only the far eastern corner of the visible northern face gave any indication of the sheerness which characterizes the eastern face.
Occasionally the trail passed by a cleft in the ridge where a view off the east side could be obtained. Besides being able to look out at sights such as Pinnacle Ridge and the distant Owens Valley you could also look straight down a fifteen hundred foot cliff. This proved to be a good exercise of my vertigo reflexes, they worked fine I always leaned my body an exaggerated amount away from the drop. Funny thing about the mind. You can walk down a side walk, stop, hang your toes over the curb, lean over and spit in the street with no problem. But make the curb hundreds or thousands of feet high and its hard to bring yourself even close to the edge. In at least one place the trail was suspended by a rock bridge over a rift where both sides of the trail dropped down the east face of the ridge.
Since the pass Mike had been ranging out in front of me and had been stopping occasionally to wait for me to catch up. As we approached the actual north side of Whitney itself he forged on ahead because I had reduced my pace almost to a crawl. The final ascent up the mountain is just working your way among the rocky debris strewn over its flank. The trail either wasn't very well defined or I lost it. It didn't matter which it really wasn't needed any longer. All you had to do was head up and avoid falling off the northern cliff that began to form on your right. I'd just stumble upwards for a couple hundred yards, if even that far, then sit down and gasp miserably for a while. I hadn't learned to rest step where you take a few breathes between each step and constantly keep moving. The last three or four hundred feet in elevation took me forever but finally it ended and I joined Mike on the 14,494 foot summit.
On the summit is a stone shelter built by the Smithsonian Institute in the early nineteen hundreds. It is divided into two sections, one section was locked but the other was open. I opened the door to the unlocked section and would have lost my lunch if I had eaten any that day. People had left their rotting garbage and unwanted articles of clothing and the smell was atrocious. Any idiot who can carry something up a mountain should sure the hell be able to carry it back down again. I hoped the weather wouldn't suddenly take a turn for the worst. It would have been a hard decision between trying to rough it out in the open or using the shelter. Luckily the weather had been beautiful so far on the trip and stayed nice the whole time.
I was tired and out of water so I just sat down in the leeward shelter of the structure and attempted to melt snow in my canteen using my body heat. This effort failed miserably and the metal snow filled canteen managed to make my bare hands cold instead of making water. I put my gloves on and left the canteen on a rock in the sun, hoping eventually to be able to get some water out of it. Eating snow is one thing but drinking water is much better because you're not wasting you internal body heat to melt the snow. An October day at over fourteen angels is usually a little brisk and it was that day. I decided since I had gone through all the trouble to get to where I was I'd might as well take a look at the view.
To the east of the shelter there was a plaque anchored horizontally to a rock install by the National Park Service in 1930. It claimed the elevation to be 14,485.80 feet. I wondered whose ruler they used to get the .80 feet. From a balanced flat boulder a few yards east of the plaque a beautiful view of the Owens Valley and the valley leading up from the portal lay before me. The Owens Valley and its eastern rim lay in the rain shadow of the Sierras and appeared mostly void of any noticeable major vegetation. Lone Pine sitting out in the middle of the valley appeared as a man made oasis in the barren landscape. Even the descending eastern facing flanks of the Sierras appeared devoid of trees except for the start of the valley leading up from the portal. Looking a little south behind Mt. Irvine and down the Owens Valley a white dust cloud could be seen which not too many years ago had been Owens Lake.
Turning more towards the south, Arc pass between Mt. Irvine and Mt. McAdie could be seen, but Outpost Camp and Consultation Lake which lay in front of it were blocked from view by the intervening Pinnacle Ridge and Wotans Throne. Even the trail up to Trail Crest was obscured by Mt. Muir and the high ridge which connected it to Whitney. The southern view showed the greatest amount of snow on its northern exposure but even that wasn't very much. It just appeared to be a light dusting left over from a storm which had come through a few weeks before.
The northern view showed almost no snow at all and the bleak rocky terrain was only slightly broken by the forested upper reaches of the Kern River to the northwest. Looking almost due north the immediate foreground was dominated by 14,086 foot Mt. Russell which was only a mile off. Over Russell's eastern shoulder a small southern corner of 12,802 foot Tulainyo Lake was visible. About four and a half miles north 14,375 foot Mt. Williamson jutted out into the Owens Valley. Williamson is the second highest peak in California and is only accessible during certain times of the year because it is part of the California Bighorn Sheep Zoological Area. Over the years unchecked hunting and diseases from domesticated sheep have made the Bighorn Sheep an endangered species in California. The Williamson area is just about their last stronghold and access is denied to some of the area except for a few weeks out of the year.
The view in every direction was breath taking and I took advantage of the prolonged rest period to take a considerable amount of needed breaths. My head ache dulled and I even managed to smoke a couple of cigarettes while futilely waiting for the snow in my canteen to melt. I spent less than an hour on the summit because it was late in the day and you can only look at the view for so long. The only advantage of being slow was everybody who had climbed to the top that day had passed me going down while I was going up. We had the top of the mountain and the view to ourselves. Before leaving the summit I made sure I signed the register that was located on the outside of the shelter.
Going down is easier than going up but is still a strain on your legs. It uses different muscles and if they're not in shape you soon know it. The legs may still have to work but the lungs don't have to work nearly as hard and with each step downward the lungs find their job even easier. We retraced our path back down to Trail Crest with no problems and in a lot less time than the climb up from there had taken. The afternoon sun had lowered in the west, casting the eastern trail down from the pass into deep shadow. What had been soft snow on the trail coming up had turned hard and icy and we decided to try out our crampons. They made traveling on the packed snow seem extremely sure footed but definitely left something to be desired if you had to step on a rock. For some unknown reason the metal points didn't seem to want to grip too well on solid rock. I think I learned how a long nailed dog feels trying climb over smooth rock.
The crampons worked well on the straight part of the trail down from the pass and the upper switch backs. They worked well when there was more snow and ice than rock, but as we got lower on the switch backs it became safer and easier to descend without them. We arrived back at our base camp in the late afternoon and prepared a hot evening meal. I had no problem dropping off to sleep that night even though the rock beneath me would normally seem rather hard. Even the thin dense celled foam pad I had borrowed from Mike doesn't do much with softening solid granite. The next morning we packed up our camp and headed back down to the portal. Of course the trip back to the portal was easier on us then the trip up had been.
The trip down from the portal was also much easier on Mikes truck. Once we got back out far enough into Owens Valley we stopped and took some pictures of Whitney we had been unable to take the night we had driven in.
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