Continued...
It had been a tough 8 days so far, and as rewarding and adventurous as I'd hoped
beforehand. The low turnout for the hikes turned out to be a blessing, as there were
almost no logistical worries, no lost parties (at least ones that didn't show up a
few days later), no problems with the Forest Service, permits, or injuries. And the
weather had been quite fine despite a few threatening hours or so. Though the highest
of the 10 peaks, and requiring 6000ft+ of climbing, Mt. Whitney was expected to be
the easiest of all, primarily because there was no cross-country travel required on
the entire route - a walk-up. 22 miles round-trip to be sure, but still a walk-up.
I had worried about securing a permit for this hike, the only dayhike in the Sierra
requiring one, and I had little idea how many people would actually want to join me
in August when I had to send in for the permit in February. There are 150 day permits
given out for any given day, and the maximum for any one group is 15. So I sent in my
application for the full 15 permits, and had my friend Michael do the same for another
set of 15 in case mine wasn't selected in the lottery. As it turned out both permits
were granted, and for a total of $450 ($15 per person) I was controlling 20% of the
day permits issued for this Sunday in August. As it got closer to August and interest
from a lot of folks waned, it looked like we might have ten persons or so interested
in climbing Whitney. Though small compared to my initial estimate, it would still be plenty
more than had joined me on the previous peaks. A few days earlier I asked Michael
via email to call the ranger office and release the 15 permits under his name. There
was no way to recoup my $225, but at least some other hikers would have an opportunity
to use them on a first-come basis.
I left the motel in Big Pine earlier than David or Toby, as I needed to pick up the
permits from the Ranger Station in Lone Pine. Fortunately they have a system to
allow late/early hour pickup when the station is closed. There was no way I could
have picked up the permits the day before, and I wouldn't want to wait today until
the office opens at 8a or so. I found the permits in the lock box without any trouble,
and drove up to Whitney Portal so that I would be there at the designated 6a time to
meet the other hikers. I noticed there was a tremendous amount of broken safety glass
in the parking lot, undoubtedly from bear break-ins. There just seemed to be too much
glass, and I wondered if the Forest Service didn't intentionally leave it there to
emphasize the need to use bear boxes for food protection. I had a large ice chest
with me in the front of my car (too big to fit in the trunk) that I didn't want to
catch the attention of a bear or ranger, and I did my best to cover it up with
a bunch of clothes and other debris I had with me in the car. In the parking lot I met
,
two southern boys from South Carolina. They had originally planned to
climb four or five of the peaks, then just Split and Whitney, and finally just Mt.
Whitney. A long way to fly for this single peak, but I was glad they could make it on
any terms.
I hung out at the trailhead with my handful of permits, waiting to see who else would
show up. I expected my friend Monty and his brother to show up, as they had told me
they'd be here for certain, but by 6:15a there was still no sign of them. John and
Clem headed up at 6:20a, and I wished them well. I was pretty sure I'd see them again
soon enough as they'd had no time to acclimatize and would be handicapped as a result.
A gentlemen who looked to be about 50 approached me and asked if I had any extra
permits. I told him that I did, and for $15 I'd be happy to give him one. That seemed
to take him aback, and he asked why I would charge him. I explained that I had paid
$15 for them, and that I was only asking the fair price. He was still taken aback, as
he figured I paid $15 for the whole lot, but I explained further that by mail they
cost $15 each. This still didn't satisfy him, and he said he could go down to the
ranger station when they opened and pick one up for free. "Yes," I replied, "if
there are any available, and if you want to drive back down to Lone Pine."
Now I didn't really care at all about the money. I was already in the hole over $300
and considered it part of the overall cost of this adventure. I would just as soon
leave the unused permits in my car than let this guy have one, as he was really
beginning to bug me. He thinks I'm some kind of scalper, and I think he's one
ungrateful s.o.b. Before he let me be, he made sure to point out that they would just
go to waste and I couldn't get my money back besides. "I know," I answered with a slight
grin. A short while later David drove up and headed up the trail. Toby had decided
to go home after our climb of Split the day before, so David would be hiking alone for
the whole day. I waited around until 6:45a until deciding no one else was coming.
I was eager to get going myself. Monty and his brother hadn't shown. I went back to
the car, grabbed my fanny packs and permit, plus a spare one I brought for "just in
case." Primarily it was in case this other guy decided I was serious and was going
to leave the permits to rot, and offered to fork out the $15. I still couldn't
believe he'd rather drive back down to Lone Pine. He didn't pop out again at the
trailhead, and so off I went.
Shortly after starting off and climbing up less than a mile, I was greeted with
a fleeting
(the Needles are in center, Whitney to the right). The peaks look to be a long, long way off.
At the first two creeklet crossings there are signs placed by the Forest Service
to help those looking for the Mountaineer's Route. The first is
and
it leads up the wrong canyon. Note that the sign doesn't mention the Mountaineer's
Route. The
at the North Fork of Lone Pine Creek simply lets you know
that you've found the right creek, but unless you were specifically looking for
the cross-country route, you wouldn't have any idea there is a use trail up this
way. There are other signs along the way, letting you know when you've entered the
, and
when you've entered the special day-use permit area known as the
.
Note that this is past the turnoff for the Mountaineer's
Route, so if you're inclined to dayhike the Mountaineer's Route to reach Whitney,
you have no need for a permit.
Everything about this trail speaks of the volumes of hikers that pass this way. The
creek crossings have swell
, the trail is
excellently groomed and marked,
erosion minimized with elaborate granite walkways. And so it should be, as I expect
my $300 investment ought to buy a few nice granite pavers somewhere along here. At
150 dayhikers a day, for say 100 days, the Forest Service pulls in $225,000 each
year. While I'm sure they don't hit the limit each day, consider that the 100
days/year is a low estimate, and that doesn't include the overnight permits (which
would presumeably pay for such exciting things as helicoptering out the human waste
from the toilets at Trail Camp).
The trail gets more interesting as one reaches
, where
there is a nice meadow here and a great view of
, an unusually
fanciful name for a Sierra peak. Nearby is
, and I was able to
identify high on the Whitney
Ridge. I made excellent time cruising along at about 3mph, and I passed John and Clem
as they made their way up. The altitude was affecting them, not too surprisingly,
while I had the benefit of ten days acclimatization. This is undoubtedly the best
way to enjoy this hike - no headaches, no shortness of breath, really quite enjoyable.
Shortly before Trail Camp I heard someone above call out my name. A tall, lanky
figure was 70 yards
. At first I couldn't figure out who it could
be, then I realized it was Monty! It looks like he had made the hike after all.
Catching up, we exchanged greetings and Monty introduced me to his brother, Martin.
They had started much earlier, at 5a, but found that there was a ranger at Trail
Camp checking for permits, which of course they didn't have. So they'd been here
about an hour waiting for me to show up, while trying to stay out of view of the
ranger ahead. Now, had I known they were going to start
ahead of me, I would have been sure to carry extra permits with me - it just didn't
occur to me that they actually had showed up to hike. With one spare in my pocket,
we were still a permit short to get by the sentry, so we had to devise a plan. It
wasn't much of a plan, really. See if we can get by with two permits, and failing
that, beg for mercy.
We approached Trail Camp together, and as expected the ranger came over to greet us
and ask to see our permits. We struck up a friendly-as-could-manage conversation,
and Monty and I pulled out our permits while Martin sort of stood behind us, hoping
two of three would suffice. From the permit it was clear that we were of a party
of fifteen, but there's no requirement to travel together since everyone has their
own copy. But after noting two, the ranger looked to Martin for his permit, and
of course there was none. Before that awkward moment of silence that signalled
guilt could develope, I spoke up and began to explain our small predicament. In
fact there were only six of us out of the original fifteen, and I had no idea these
guys had started ahead of me, I explained. After a few minutes of doing our best to
appear to be good, honest Wilderness visitors, the ranger seemed somewhat convinced.
He took down the number of the permit and said he'd have us accosted if he found
more than six with this permit number. The concern might be that we could have sold
permits to others below and, God forbid, allowed more than the maximum quota of
dayhikers on the trail. Happily, he let us go, and we were off before he could find
a reason to change his mind.
The three of us stuck together for only a short time. I was on a small mission to
hike up in good time, and
fell
back in the first five minutes.
on the
other hand, decided to keep up with me rather than stay with his brother. This gave
me the chance to have a grand conversation with Martin, which I found thoroughly
enjoyable. You see, Martin is an unusual individual. Besides being one of the few
non-techies that I have hiked with, he leads an interesting, semi-nomadic life.
He described himself as a self-employed travelling salesman, with plenty of time
for hiking and outdoor adventure. This explained why he was in such good shape that
he could keep up fairly well despite the lack of time to acclimatize. Even more
interesting is that what Martin sells is tattoos, or rather the patterns to make
them. He spends several months of the year designing the patterns, then travels
around the country pitching them to any tattoo parlor he could get his foot in the
door. I should have seen this coming, as Martin is covered in tattoos from nearly
the neck down, but I was a little slow in making the connection. We discussed much
of the business of selling tattoos and the incredibly fascinating people one meets
in such a venture. Martin had been only recently married, to someone I imagined
must be rather saintly in her patience and willingness to let her husband go off
on such a career (she herself worked as an engineer back in Minnesota). Martin
didn't make a lot of money doing this line of work, but that didn't seem to be the
main motivation. He described how he spent most of his evenings camping, but if
he made a good sale he would treat himself to a hot shower and a motel room for a
night. Not quite living hand to foot, but not far off, either.
Much of this conversation went on as we climbed the 99 switchbacks, which went by
fairly quickly. I'm not sure how many there are, but it seemed that was probably
around the right number. Somewhere around number 75 or so, Martin gave in and had
to fall back to a slower pace. He knew I was headed first to Mt. Muir, so it was
likely I'd either catch up to him again before the Whitney summit or shortly
afterwards. Within a few minutes I found myself behind a trail of about 15 hikers,
who were rather kind in letting me pass. They were a group of
who were hiking along in high spirits, more so than the usual band of folks we had
passed along the way earlier. They looked to be in their twenties, a mix of the
sexes, and thoroughly enjoying themselves on holiday. This is how I should have
been spending my time during my twenties, I thought, rather than working so damn
much!
At Trail Crest I took a break long enough to snap a few photos of the impressive
views both
and
. It
is somewhat of
a small victory to attain this point, the entry into
and reaching the
at
13,500 feet. Yet there are still two miles
to go to reach Mt. Whitney's summit, and most hikers slow down considerably along
this stretch. There are a number of backpacks that are left near this point where
the trail forks and heads down to the Kern Basin. Backpackers going either direction
often drop their packs here to make the side trip to Mt. Whitney - no need to haul
the whole pack those extra four miles.
Mt. Muir is little more than a bump along the main Whitney ridge that runs from the
summit to Discovery Pinnacle, just south of Trail Crest. But because it reaches
above the magic 14,000ft mark, it has been deemed fit to earn the title of mountain,
and as a bonus being named for the most famous member and founder of the Sierra
Club. There is no regular trail that leaves the maintained Whitney Trail to reach
Mt. Muir's summit, only a few hundred yards away. I found a loose sandy area around
the bend not far from Trail Crest, and from the evidence of prior traffic guessed
it was the usual place to leave the trail. I headed up. I expected the rock to be
somewhat loose here, as it had that look from below, but the climbing was quite
nice. Just below the summit there is some interesting class 3 stuff, with one move
across a slanting ledge the only really exposed spot. It was 10:15a when I reached
the summit, 3 1/2 hours from Whitney Portal. There are two views from Mt. Muir that
are unique, and cannot be had from Mt. Whitney. One is the view of
(although there is an even better view from Keeler Needle). The other is to
the southeast where one can make out the thin, zigzagging thread of the
as they make they're way up to Trail Crest. The trail looks quite
impressive from this vantage point.
I found the aluminum cylinder that holds the summit register, and retrieved it. The
register was full for all practical purposes, though I found a small section of
blank paper a few years back on which to add my own entry. Even the back of the
register was utilized, and I noticed that
was one of the
last two, dating to October of 2000. A regular poster to a number of the Yahoo!
Clubs, I've followed a number of her many adventures over the last few years. She
had an impressive string of consecutive weekends spent in the mountains, spanning
something like a year. During one of her outings she had posted some pictures
from Mt. Muir, and it was her description of the interesting class 3 that got my
attention back in 2000. And so I decided I had to climb Mt. Muir the next time I
headed up to Mt. Whitney.
I spied a whole host of peaks I had yet
to visit, the last of the High Sierra in that direction. Far off was Olancha Peak,
my adventure for the the next day. The intervening peaks of Langley, LeConte, and
McAdie would provide inspiration for future climbs.
could
be seen the Kaweah Ridge in the distance, the Hitchcock Lakes down below, and the
Kern Canyon in the middle distance.
I stayed on the top but a few minutes before gathering up my stuff and heading
back down. I chose to descend the same way I had climbed up, as I wasn't terribly
comfortable I could climb off the north side easily enough. Back down at the
trail I headed up towards Whitney. There were people strung out along the trail
here, sometimes 20 or more visible. While they went at various speeds, each at
his own pace, most were going rather slowly. The air gets quite thin up here!
I caught up to
just below Keeler Needle, maybe half a mile from the summit.
He was going along slowly but steadily, and had not caught back up to his brother
who was probably at the summit by now. I left Monty after a few minutes and
continued up. Shortly before the last climb, the trail breaks up into a myriad
of use trails, and I found it impossible to find any particular one that could
be considered the "maintained" one. This seems quite strange considering the
amount of use this trail gets, and I wondered if I had just wandered off at
a turn somewhere. Little matter, as this last part is just a huge pile of scree
with some sand thrown in to slow you down a little.
It was 11:15a when I reached
marking
of Mt.
Whitney. As expected, there were a good many people up here, making for a
party-like atmosphere. The
had carried a flag and stuffed animals with them
to mark their summit bid, and in helping them take pictures of their group I
must have gone through a dozen different cameras. They were certainly the most
lively and entertaining bunch at the summit, and I didn't mind helping them out
in the least. I found
here as well,
having arrived about five minutes ahead
of me. He was eating his lunch and watching one of the
who had
almost no fear of the humans intruding on their turf. The weather had continued
to be fine the whole morning, and aside from some scattered clouds, the weather
was about as nice as one could have asked for. I wandered around a little, taking
in the views on all sides
( -
-
-
-
-
)
while I ate the snacks I had brought with me. After
almost half an hour of rest I began to grow antsy. Monty had not yet arrived at
the summit. I still had a good deal of energy left, and was looking for
something else to climb. Mt. McAdie to the south of Trail Crest had looked like
a very difficult ridge, and I hadn't researched it at all to find out if that
route was class 3 or less. Looking over at Mt. Russell a mile to the north, I
began to consider the possibility of climbing that and returning via
Whitney Col. It didn't take me long to decide to give it a shot, and I
let Martin know my plans before bidding him goodbye.
I marched off towards Whitney's North Face, passing the famous Whitney
which I hadn't seen the first time I was up here. It is located about 100 yards
north of the summit house, and is exposed on three sides. A short rock wall
provides the only modicum of privacy, which makes it a rather nervous outing
for most of the folks who use it. In fact I was alerted to the outhouse's
whereabouts by the shriek I heard as someone using it spotted me off to the
unprotected east side, about 30 yards away. Embarrassed, I turned away, but I
must confess at that distance, the views weren't much to write home about.
The North Face of Whitney doesn't simply drop off, and being large and broad,
it is hard to get a good view of it from above. I angled to the northwest (left),
and climbed down several hundred yards over some large talus and boulders where
I then got a pretty good view of the whole route over to Mt. Russell. Russell's
South Slope didn't look bad at all, mostly a huge pile of scree. I knew it to
be class 2 with a short class 3 section at the top which I didn't expect to be
too bad. What bothered me the most was Whitney's North Face, which I had
expected to be similarly class 2. But from my vantage point it looked much
tougher. There were a number of snow patches, not all of which I could safely
navigate around. I had no idea what condition the snow was in, but had to
consider that it might be hard and icy. And much of the rock around it looked
like some steep granite slopes, with water weeping from the mountainside all
over the place. I had no axe or even hiking boots with me, as I had chosen to
climb in tennis shoes, and I was now regretting that decision. I stood there for
some time contemplating whether to go down or not. I really wanted to, but the
safety factor seemed too low. I decided to leave Russell for another day.
Rather than climb back up to Whitney's summit, I contoured right around the
west slopes, eventually rejoining the trail on the southwest side. I soon had
an excellent view of the
that lie
on the Whitney ridge just south
of the summit. The closest (and highest) is called Keeler Needle, the second
is now Crooks Peak, but used to be Day Needle. Keeler and Day were assistants
to Samuel Langley (for whom Mt. Langley is named), who led a scientific expedition
to Mt. Whitney's summit in 1880. Though both needles were named at the same time,
only Keeler made it to the maps, and Day Needle was renamed in the 1990's for
Hilda Crook, who hiked up Mt. Whitney every year from her mid-60s to her early
90s. Both needles rise above 14,000 feet, though neither is currently considered
in the list of 15 California 14ers. I have little doubt however, that the bar
will be raised soon in attempts to break the 14er speed record, when someone will
climb these extra two summits along the way. Just as in the Colorado record, once
someone adds a new peak to the list, those that follow feel compelled to climb
all the points attained by the predecessor. Though I had no intention of
breaking any speed climbing record, adding the two needles seemed a nice pair of
feathers to add to the cap, even if they were only class 1-2 to reach.
Accordingly, I left the Whitney trail below Keeler Needle, and headed to the
summit,
at 12:20p. It had taken all of 15 minutes to climb it. The
summit is wildly exposed as it sticks out over the east face, and gave me pause
to consider what damage a small quake could do right now. Should the little ledge
I was perched on collapse, I'd fall almost a thousand feet without touching much
of anything on the way down. The view of
was fantastic
from this vantage point, and as I studied the sheer face I marvelled that climbers
could make their way up through various routes that have been done there. It was
even easier getting to
as I descended to the saddle between the two
and climbed the west slope, all in 20 minutes. The summit of Crooks is even more
exposed than Keelers, as the high point is surrounded on three sides by sharp
drops, and only narrowly connected to the West Slope. There is nothing difficult
at all about reaching the highpoint, other than the nerve one needs to muster to
place his faith in the rock that it will not suddenly crash down from underneath.
I was nervous the whole time I sat there, which amounted to maybe half a minute.
But there was no way I could relax and not think about what seemed such little
support under me.
There are other needles that dot the ridge south of Crooks Peak (and north of
Mt. Muir, though today none of those have official names. They are all less
significant, but will no doubt attain official names someday as the list of
unnamed peaks and peaklets in the Sierra grows ever smaller. But rather than
climb those all now on my way back, I was getting a bit tired of all the talus,
and decided to wait until they get their official names before bagging them.
After all, that has always been my arbitrary criteria for peak-bagging - if it
has a name, climb it. :)
Back on the Whitney Trail, I headed for Trail Crest, and who should I run into
in the next few minutes but John and Clem. They were resting on a couple of rocks
alongside the trail, taking their time to get to the summit. It was 1p now, and
they were pretty spent due to the lack of acclimatization, but looked like they'd
make it given enough time. This was the first I'd spent more than a few minutes
talking to the pair, and they began to tell climbing yarns with a little prompting.
One of them had peeled 60 feet just as he had gotten his hands to the top of one
climb, and the other had caught the fall on video from below. They found it quite
hilarious to talk about it after the fact, but it had been a great source of fear
and embarassment at the time. I spent thirty minutes with them before it was time
to move on again, they towards the summit, myself downward. At the trail junction,
there were several packs adorned with
, possibly for a
celebration commemorating a group of friends completion of the JMT. I confess I'm
not sure what the reason though, as I didn't stop long enough to enquire.
When I reached Trail Crest I decided to climb the small nubbin to the south that
has been named "Discovery Pinnacle." The climbing to the top is not very hard, but
moderately interesting, as the summit is composed of some enormous blocks propped
up against each other. Here I took another hard look at McAdie about a mile to the
south, but I had to admit that I no longer had the energy nor the desire for more
climbing. I scrambled down the east side over some steep and loose terrain until
I intersected the Whitney Trail about 150 yards or so below the ridge. Heading down
the 99 switchbacks, I soon spotted
ahead of me. I tried to sneak up on him
without him seeing me first, but before I could reach him he had spotted me as he
glanced up after making a turn at the switchback. It was 2:30p now, and we walked
on together until we
reached Martin who had been resting at the bottom of the switchbacks. The three
of us then continued together all the way back to the trailhead. I got to learn a lot
more about Martin during the next three hours, as his life story held a great deal
of fascination for me. I felt like I was getting the personal version of Ray
Bradbury's The Illustrated Man. The pace was slow, but the stories enjoyable,
so on we went the rest of the way. Not surprising, we saw almost no one heading up
as we were on our way down. I found it rather comical, however, when we passed the
same gentleman who'd pestered me for a free permit earlier in the morning.
Apparently he had driven down to the Lone Pine Ranger Station to get his permit, and
as all the permits were already spoken for, he was obliged to wait until 10a so that
he could take the permit from one of the no-shows. Seems the earliest he could have
gotten a start then was about 11a, and when we passed him at 3p, the odds of him
actually making the summit seemed remote. All to save a lousy $15 I thought, as I
chuckled to myself.
Back at Whitney Portal at 5:50p, we went to the store to enjoy some
.
Here we
found a rather strange pricing strategy that didn't seem appropriate. We each
selected a beer, only to be informed by the cashier (trying to be nice, no doubt)
that the price of three single beers ($3 and change each) exceeded the price of a
six pack ($9 and change). In the interest of making wise investment choices, we
naturally returned to buy an entire six pack (mix and match allowed!), so that we
would each consume two beers for our victory toast. Now two beers isn't all that much,
but considering that most of the hikers returning are both exhausted and dehydrated,
two beers could do quite a bit. I was feeling rather toasty (or toasted?) when we
were done, and the drive back down the windy road from Whitney Portal seemed no
small challenge. I wondered how many accidents may have occurred along this road as
a result of the beer pricing strategy at the Whitney Portal Store. Fortunately I
was able to negotiate it successfully, and I returned to Lone Pine. Monty and his
brother were heading back tonight, as were the others. Even David, who had followed
me since the beginning nine days earlier, decided to forgo the tenth peak on the
following day. So I took a room by myself, and after checking in, went to join
Monty and Martin for dinner at a local establishment before they headed back up
US395. John, Clem, and David I never saw again, though found later that all had
made it to the summit. I had been surprised that I didn't find David anywhere along
the trail on my return, but we surmised that I was probably on one of the Needles
when David was making his way back, finishing well ahead of the three of us. Monty
and Martin had not even had the chance to
meet David, and so probably did not recognize him when he undoubtedly passed them
on the way up and down. Seven of nine summits so far, one more to go!
Continued...
John and Clem
first view of Whitney
Carillon Creek
second sign
John Muir Wilderness
Whitney Zone
log bridges
Mirror Lake
Wotans Throne
Thor Peak
ahead on the
trail
Monty
Martin
Scottish trekkers
east
west
Sequoia
National Park
Sierra crest
Whitney's Southeast
Face
99
switchbacks
Snow Nymph's
entry
Looking south
To the west
Monty
the shelter
the summit
Scottish team
Martin
local marmots
east
southeast
south
west
northwest
northeast
outhouse
two needles
reaching it
Whitney's
Southeast Face
Crooks Peak
balloons
Monty
celebration beers