MT. WHITNEY
(14,495 ft.)MT. MUIR
(14,015 ft.)June 28, 2003
By Tim Briese
The towering peaks of the Colorado Rockies lay far below in glorious array as I flew over them on my way to California on a fine sunny morning in late June. I could identify many peaks I had climbed before, but today I was headed west to climb in a new land, in the majestic Sierra Nevada.
There were four climbers in our party, and we planned to meet in Lone Pine, California that evening and climb Mt. Whitney the following day. I was flying from Colorado Springs to Las Vegas, where I rented a car for the 200 mile drive to Lone Pine. Brian was flying from Minnesota to Las Vegas to do the same, and Jason and Connie were arriving from Colorado by car.
Advance planning was necessary for the climb, for Whitney is one of the most prized summits in the United States, and a lottery system is in place to fill quotas of permits to climb it. We submitted five optional climbing dates in the February lottery and were pleasantly surprised to get our first choice. (See www.fs.fed.us/r5/inyo for details.)
The four hour drive from Las Vegas to Lone Pine took me across Death Valley, where it was brutally hot, about 115 degrees. I was impressed by the grand scale of the physical features of this interesting land, as the highway climbed from sea level up to 5000 feet in just a few miles then went back down to 1000 feet before climbing thousands of feet yet again. When I approached Lone Pine I was treated to a dramatic view of the rugged Sierra Nevada standing tall in bold relief against the western sky. Lone Pine lies in a desert setting in the Owens Valley, at an elevation of only 3700 feet, while the high summits just to the west tower an incredible 10,000 feet above, a gradient that is unmatched in Colorado. I had never hiked or climbed in the Sierra before, but I felt intimately familiar with the range, and eagerly looked forward to this opportunity, because I had read John Muir’s books that vividly describe this beautiful “Range of Light.”
My first stop in Lone Pine was at the forest service office where I picked up our climbing permits for the following day. In spite of horror stories I had read on the Internet this was a smooth process that took only five minutes. Brian joined me at our motel an hour later and we went with Jason and Connie to dinner later that evening.
We rose at 3:30 the next morning and drove thirteen miles up the Whitney Portal Road to the trailhead. This fine road, which gains a whopping 4600 feet of elevation from town up to the trailhead, is paved all the way and takes about a half hour to drive up. There were numerous vehicles parked in the large parking lots at the trailhead. Signs warned that vehicles would be ticketed if food or other objects were left visible inside them, because break-ins by bears are a common problem.
We hit the trail in faint light at 4:30, using flashlights for a few minutes until we could see without them. The fine trail wound upward out of the valley and we were soon several hundred feet above the trailhead. The sun rose in the northeast and cast a beautiful glow upon the alpine landscape. Sheer granite walls towered hundreds of feet above, and waterfalls thundered over cliffy ledges.
We were by no means alone, for we encountered dozens of other hikers on the trail as the day went along. These were not casual hikers either, for the typical hiker was trim and fit, generally from 20 to 40 years old, and usually well equipped with trekking poles and appropriate gear. The Whitney climb is not a casual hike, either, for although it is a Class 1 walkup all the way to the top, it requires 22 miles of roundtrip hiking and nearly 7000 feet of elevation gain, making it a serious undertaking to attempt on a dayhike.
The beautiful trail carried us higher up the valley, with scenic treats to delight the eye around every corner. After nearly four miles we reached Outpost Camp, one of two places along the trail where backpackers may camp if they have a permit to do so. Each camping area is equipped with a fine toilet facility, the only ones provided along the route. These facilities have strategic importance, for solid human wastes must be otherwise packed out. We took a break here and sat on some rocks in the shade of some massive pine trees. This was quite an enchanting spot, with a stream flowing through the rocks nearby and a waterfall pouring over a cliff a short distance to the south. This was the high runoff season, with stream flows running near their vociferous peaks.
The day was sunny and calm, without a cloud in the deep blue sky. This was just what we needed for this long hike. We continued up the trail and climbed past gem-like Mirror Lake, and then past massive granite headwalls into the valley above. The trail itself is quite a marvel. Built around 1930, it provides a fine route up through rugged terrain through which it would otherwise be a considerable challenge to negotiate. Countless switchbacks keep the grade moderate and numerous rocky steps give the trail a staircase-like feel in many places. We climbed above timberline and paused on a rocky outcropping to gaze down into beautiful Consultation Lake below. Presently we reached Trail Camp, the second designated camping area, which lies at about 12,100 feet and six miles from the trailhead. An incredibly rugged ridge of pinnacles towered above to the west, one of which we surmised was Mt. Muir. This was nearly the last place to obtain water before we continued on to the summit, which was still a distant five miles away. We considered filtering some water here to replenish our supplies but decided that we had enough, which turned out to be a mistake for some of us. The air was very dry today, more so than I was used to while climbing in Colorado, which made my throat sore and induced me to drink large quantities of water, which rapidly depleted my supply.
Just beyond Trail Camp the trail began a brisk ascent up a steep slope to Trail Crest, some 1600 feet higher on the crest of the ridge above. This infamous stretch of trail is said to harbor 97 switchbacks. We joked about counting them but decided instead to simply accept the fact without question. Connie pushed on ahead for a while and Brian and I brought up the rear, and Jason floated back and forth between her and us. We encountered some banks of snow in some places on this north-facing stretch of the route, but none was sufficient to impede our progress. Had we been here two weeks earlier some snow climbing would have been required. Steel posts and cables were provided for protection in a few exposed places where smooth granite slopes dropped sharply away, although most of the cables had been knocked down by deep winter snows and still lay uselessly on the rocks.
It was a great relief to finally reach the end of the switchbacks and climb to the top of the ridge at Trail Crest. Dramatic views were afforded here of rugged peaks and deep valleys off to the west. We stopped here a while for a well-deserved break. A young man sitting nearby told us that he had climbed Whitney eleven times before!
The elevation here was a lofty 13,700 feet, and it seemed like the hike ought to be nearly over, but we still had a long two and a half miles to go along the west side of the ridge to reach Whitney’s summit. After resting for a while we embarked once again upon the trail. The route dropped down a couple of hundred feet, along exposed ledges in a couple of places, and presently we came to a trail junction where the John Muir Trail came up from the west. A sign warned about the danger of lightning on the long and committing ridge to Whitney, for it offers no escape or place to hide in bad weather. Fortunately that was not a concern today.
Connie began to fade a little but gamely pushed on, while Jason broke on ahead toward the still distant summit. Remarkably, Connie did this grueling hike with pins in her ankle that were placed there in a surgery a few months before!
We passed by the rough western slopes of Mt. Muir, whose summit lay about 300 feet above, and Brian and I studied the terrain for a reasonable way to climb it on our return. When we found the best place we could find, Brian marked it with a small cairn so we would not miss it when we came back. The trail masterfully carried us around numerous rugged blocks and outcroppings, and we were occasionally treated to exposed views through notches far down into the basin below to the east. There were at least a score of other climbers on these upper reaches of the trail joining us on this endeavor, and most were stopping frequently to catch their breath. The trail crossed a field of soft snow about fifty yards across and then swung around to the east up onto the gentle western slopes of Whitney’s summit plateau. Hikers coming down kept reassuring us that we were almost there!
At about 12:30 we finally reached the summit, culminating a long eight hour ascent. Brian and I walked up to a large rock that lay at the highest point, and gazed over the heart-stopping sheer east face to Iceberg Lake and other points 2000 feet below. It was sunny and pleasant on top, perhaps 60 degrees or so, with scarcely a breath of wind. Presently Connie joined the other three of us and we all sat on a large flat rock to eat a snack and enjoy the thrill of our accomplishment. There were about two dozen other people on the summit while we were there. The views were very impressive in all directions from this commanding vantage point. Far below to the east lay the Owens Valley, while Mt. Langley (14,027') was off to the southeast, and the rough pinnacled ridge that we had traversed along the west side of stretched away to the south. I thought it was quite fitting that the highest mountain in the continental United States is such a majestic and beautiful peak.
We took a look at a plaque on the summit and at the interesting summit shelter building. The summit register, mounted outside the building, was crammed with entries, attesting to the vast popularity of this climb. At 1:20 we left the top and began our descent. I left the main trail briefly and strolled over to the north side of the summit and looked over the edge to see if I could determine where Whitney’s Mountaineer’s Route came up. My search was inconclusive, but I saw enough to make me glad we had not attempted to come up that way, especially with the snow lying on those north-facing slopes.
When we reached the cairn Brian had built marking the Mt. Muir route, Jason, Brian, and I left the trail and scrambled up a steep talus slope toward its summit, while Connie elected to stay on the main trail and continue the descent. The summit of Muir lies only a few hundred feet above the Mt. Whitney Trail, and we were expecting a fast and simple rock scramble to its summit, but were surprised by the difficulty of the final hundred feet. It is called a Class 3 climb, but it compared to Class 4 climbs we had done in Colorado. Jason led the way and carefully picked a route up the steep granite faces. We found it necessary to make some rather long reaches in a couple of places. Nevertheless, it took no more than twenty minutes to climb from the Whitney Trail to the top of this spectacularly airy summit. The top consisted of a tiny perch that could hold no more than two people at a time, with dropoffs falling sharply away all around. It was certainly a thrilling place to be. This vantage point afforded fine views in every direction, especially of Whitney off to the north. I could not recall a Colorado summit I had been on that was so small and airy. The Crestone Needle came to mind, but Muir is considerably more pointed and exposed. After a few minutes on top we started to descend, and met three young climbers on their way scrambling up.
Jason rapidly pushed on down the main trail to catch up with Connie while Brian and I hiked down at a more leisurely pace. The day was still sunny and calm, with a pleasant warmth I had never felt at such a high elevation. We soon rounded a corner on the fine trail and returned to Trail Crest, and took one last look at the majestic panorama to the west before starting to descend the switchbacks. On the way down I paused a couple of times to admire the fine view of Muir and Whitney along the rough ridge to the north. My water supply was now depleted and I was glad to stop and filter a fresh supply at the first available opportunity near the bottom of the switchbacks. Near Trail Camp we found Jason and Connie sprawled out on some rocks resting with their boots off. It looked very enticing to do likewise, but I didn’t know if I could get myself moving again after such a leisurely break. It was now late in the afternoon, and we had already put in a long day, but we still had six miles to go!
We continued down the trail in the warm glow of the late afternoon sun. Numerous backpackers were puffing up the trail on their way to Trail Camp. Shadows were falling by the time we reached Outpost Camp, with four long miles remaining yet before us. We were all thoroughly exhausted as we tramped back down the final miles to the trailhead. It was certainly a most welcome sight when we arrived there at ten minutes before 8. The hike took us over fifteen hours to complete, making it the longest dayhike I had ever done. We climbed 7100 feet of elevation gain, including our scamper up Mt. Muir, and hiked 22 miles, but it seemed like more.
The sun was just setting as we drove back down into the Owens Valley. We staggered into a Mexican restaurant in Lone Pine to enjoy a well-earned dinner before retiring for the night. Sleep came very easily for me that night, as I quickly dozed off in a state of happy exhaustion.
