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Day 6: Mt. Whitney- ZERO PCT miles!
Even without an alarm we were both awake by 5:45 am. Why I can’t accomplish this same feat when I’m sleeping in my apartment and need to get up for work is a mystery to me, but it was a welcomed change in my body’s clock. By 7:45 am we were crossing the creek and headed to the trail that would take us to the summit of Mt. Whitney, the tallest peak in the lower 48 states at 14,500 feet. We passed Timberline Lake and Guitar Lake before 9am and without trouble from the weather or altitude. As we criss crossed the snowfields marmots ran back and forth almost as if we were part of their game of tag. Perhaps they were interested in us simply because we were munching on cliff bars and food was the one thing they wanted from us.
Halfway up according to distance not time, we ran into Jack Rabbit who gave us a few tips about crossing the tougher snow fields up ahead. I of course had a moment of panic when he mentioned snow. Thankfully, I did manage to limit my questions and hide my fear with a big smile. I'm sure Replay saw right through it though! Jack Rabbit told us that the snow wasn't that bad. He did mention that the snow would get softer as the sun climbed higher so keep an eye on the time. We shook our heads okay we understand, but it wasn’t until we began our descent that this tip sunk in...just like our shoes! To us the snow was solid and hard and the 60 meters of whiteness was only a mind game. Plant a pole, move a foot, plant a pole, move a foot. The trick for me was to concentrate on my next footstep or pole placement and the snow crossings became a breeze. However as the temperature warmed and the sun’s rays began to heat then snow the once solid ground began to give way to a softer slipperier terrain. Post holing turned from a once every ten minute game of pulling my leg out of the thigh deep snow to an an every other step occurrence. Of course these issues were not part of our upward journey, but instead where challenges that we had to face on our descent when we were out of warm and our heads were screaming from the high altitude.
But that challenge was later on in the day. The first 6 miles of the trail was a steady climb with a bit of breathing chest discomfort. Nothing really out of the ordinary until we hit the warning sign. The last two miles of the climb was not only was the most dangerous section due to the threat of a severe lighting storm or a rapid change in weather but it was the start of the most intense physical challenge of my hiking career. There was a sense of relief that we were on the last two miles, but also a bit of dread. The air was thinner, we were low on water, and every step had to be carefully selected so as to prevent slipping backwards or off the side of the mountain. The top never looked that far away, but for some reason it never seemed to get any closer. It took us about an hour each mile to reach the top and when we did it was nothing but smiles. Replay and I took advantage of the excellent view and snapped more pictures than we might ever want, but hey when will I be climbing Whitney again? After pictures we planned to nap at the top seemed ridiculous, but after about 20 minutes the pounding in our heads signaled an end to the top of the U.S.A. view.
Unlike the ascent, the descent only took us 4 hours, but it felt like 8 hours. With each step in the snow we sunk down into the icy cold. Our legs were bloody and scratched from the ice crystals and our energy was at its lowest. Getting out of a posthole takes a lot more energy than I thought and worse yet was the fact that the next step might also lead to another posthole. The cycle just didn’t stop. By the time we made it to camp we had just enough energy to make dinner and crawl into bed. I think we both fell asleep before it even got dark.
Even without an alarm we were both awake by 5:45 am. Why I can’t accomplish this same feat when I’m sleeping in my apartment and need to get up for work is a mystery to me, but it was a welcomed change in my body’s clock. By 7:45 am we were crossing the creek and headed to the trail that would take us to the summit of Mt. Whitney, the tallest peak in the lower 48 states at 14,500 feet. We passed Timberline Lake and Guitar Lake before 9am and without trouble from the weather or altitude. As we criss crossed the snowfields marmots ran back and forth almost as if we were part of their game of tag. Perhaps they were interested in us simply because we were munching on cliff bars and food was the one thing they wanted from us.
Halfway up according to distance not time, we ran into Jack Rabbit who gave us a few tips about crossing the tougher snow fields up ahead. I of course had a moment of panic when he mentioned snow. Thankfully, I did manage to limit my questions and hide my fear with a big smile. I'm sure Replay saw right through it though! Jack Rabbit told us that the snow wasn't that bad. He did mention that the snow would get softer as the sun climbed higher so keep an eye on the time. We shook our heads okay we understand, but it wasn’t until we began our descent that this tip sunk in...just like our shoes! To us the snow was solid and hard and the 60 meters of whiteness was only a mind game. Plant a pole, move a foot, plant a pole, move a foot. The trick for me was to concentrate on my next footstep or pole placement and the snow crossings became a breeze. However as the temperature warmed and the sun’s rays began to heat then snow the once solid ground began to give way to a softer slipperier terrain. Post holing turned from a once every ten minute game of pulling my leg out of the thigh deep snow to an an every other step occurrence. Of course these issues were not part of our upward journey, but instead where challenges that we had to face on our descent when we were out of warm and our heads were screaming from the high altitude.
But that challenge was later on in the day. The first 6 miles of the trail was a steady climb with a bit of breathing chest discomfort. Nothing really out of the ordinary until we hit the warning sign. The last two miles of the climb was not only was the most dangerous section due to the threat of a severe lighting storm or a rapid change in weather but it was the start of the most intense physical challenge of my hiking career. There was a sense of relief that we were on the last two miles, but also a bit of dread. The air was thinner, we were low on water, and every step had to be carefully selected so as to prevent slipping backwards or off the side of the mountain. The top never looked that far away, but for some reason it never seemed to get any closer. It took us about an hour each mile to reach the top and when we did it was nothing but smiles. Replay and I took advantage of the excellent view and snapped more pictures than we might ever want, but hey when will I be climbing Whitney again? After pictures we planned to nap at the top seemed ridiculous, but after about 20 minutes the pounding in our heads signaled an end to the top of the U.S.A. view.
Unlike the ascent, the descent only took us 4 hours, but it felt like 8 hours. With each step in the snow we sunk down into the icy cold. Our legs were bloody and scratched from the ice crystals and our energy was at its lowest. Getting out of a posthole takes a lot more energy than I thought and worse yet was the fact that the next step might also lead to another posthole. The cycle just didn’t stop. By the time we made it to camp we had just enough energy to make dinner and crawl into bed. I think we both fell asleep before it even got dark.
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