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| View northwest from near Mount Whitney summit |
Date: September 2, 2022
Place: Sequoia National Park and the John Muir Wilderness, Lone Pine, California
Coordinates: 36.571583, -118.312214
Length: 15 miles
Level: very strenuous
The night before going up Mount Whitney I camped at Guitar Lake west of the mountain. Guitar Lake is a very popular camping place for people who ascend the mountain from the west. There were so many people there that it felt to me as if I was staying in a city of tents. For the most part people were considerate of one another but after getting used to camping in solitude I found even the quiet rustling of nearby campers bothersome. I tossed and turned quite a bit myself so I guess I was just as noisy. I set my alarm to 4:00 am thinking it'll give me a reasonable time for the day's hike to the summit of Mount Whitney and down the eastern slope. What happened in actuality though, was that I was awoken at 1:00 am by my neighbors who were having a much earlier start than what I had planned for myself. I tried falling asleep again but the excitement was already coursing through me with waves of adrenaline. After an hour or so of failing to sleep any more I got dressed in all the layers I brought with me and stepped outside my warm tent into the High Sierra night chill. I was mildly shocked to see the thin line of moving lights marking the trail I was about to go up on. These were flashlights of climbers whose definition of an early start was very different than mine. I thought of the men's group I've met yesterday that were camping at Crabtree and had planned to be at the summit by sunrise, and I was sure that some of these lights were theirs. Grateful to myself for getting everything prepared before going to sleep I was able to get ready fairly quickly, including breaking camp and packing everything. The longest park pf getting ready was making my breakfast, which I didn't want to skip. Eating well is important when exerting in high altitudes.
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| My hike as captured by my GPS (that for some reason shortcut all the switchbacks both east and west) |
It was around 3:00 am when I started on the trail going up Mount Whitney. I had new batteries in my head lamp and there was no problems following the trail. My backpack was the heaviest it was throughout this entire trip because I filled all of my water containers, including the filter bag. Hydration is also very important to prevent altitude sickness. But the downside of that was that the heavy backpack was weighing my down and slowing my pace. For the first hour and a half or so I didn't take any photos - it was too dark for that. I did try to photograph the thin line of ascending flashlights up the dark slope but I didn't know how to set my camera for night exposure and none of my attempts worked. After one hour I paused to snack and drink and I turned my flashlight off to enjoy the night sky, which was very impressive. Even when walking I would turn off the light every now and then so I could see the stars disappearing and the faintest hint of day light appearing over the mountain crest. Eventually I was able to take photos of that early dawn. It's a sight I very rarely see.
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| Predawn |
I walked slow and stopped every round hour to drink and snack, which is the strategy I learned on my Mount Shasta trip the year before. Occasionally people were passing me on their way up, some faster then others and all of them faster than me. I figured I'd be the last one of all the people who started at Guitar Lake to reach the summit.
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| Early Dawn View West from the trail |
it didn't take long for they light to intensify- after the second snack break I packed my headlamp. Warm from the climb I tried putting away my fleece jacket but after five minutes I had to don it again because my windbreaker was not enough to block the early morning chill. My camera also did much better now with the brightening morning. It was in good timing too because around that time I spotted a pika perched on a rock off the trail a good distance below me. The pika was communicating loudly with another pike that I didn't see. It stayed there on its perch for a while before going back in hiding.
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| American Pika |
Below me were the Hitchcock Lakes and when the sun started illuminating the crest of Mount Hitchcock its deep dark reflection in the upper lake was crowned in gold. I took many photos of that lake all that morning and it was great to see how the lighting changed its appearance.
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| Upper Hitchcock Lake |
The shadow of Mt. Whitney still covered all of the valley below but when I looked back where I came form I could see Guitar Lake shining the reflection of the peak above. I could also admire the height I got to so far. I still had quite a lot to go though.
At around 13,000 feet I encountered the first people who who were coming down the mountain. The first few were all solitary men, most of them much younger than me. One of them was an exception - he was older than me and unlike the others he didn't seemed rushed at all but walked in a slow and steady pace. e stopped when I greeted him and we chatted a little. He commented on the heavy pack I was carrying and he told me he was an ultralight backpacker, meaning he carried only the bare essentials. The thing is, I thought I was carrying only essentials as well (except for the camera). Apparently we differed greatly on what we considered as essential. I took his words to mind though. Perhaps my pack was heavier than it needed to be. He also commented on the heavy camera I was carrying and when I told him that I liked taking good photos of wildlife and wildflowers he told me there was Nothing growing there that was worth carrying this camera for. By the end of the day I knew that he was wrong on that point.
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| Dock, Rumex sp. |
As the daylight intensified I had a nice, clear view southwest to the valley I walked through the day before between Guyot Creek and Crabtree Meadow. I detected the red-streaked mountain, the bold landmark that I fist saw on my way down Guyot Pass.
The trail switchbacked south again and disappeared between the rocks. I could only tell where it continued when there were people walking on it. By that time there were fewer people passing me on their way up and more people crossing my path on their way down.
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| JMT/Mount Whitney Trail West |
There were wildflowers blooming between and beneath rocks. Most of them were small and unassuming but it was great to see life thriving even at such high altitude in a place where conditions are so harsh for most of the year.
On my next snack break I was overtaken by the couple I've been leap-frogging since yesterday. They were well on their way up and one of them was still not fully committed to the summit. I knew that I'd be seeing them again at least one more time since they would be going back west, no matter where their high point would be.
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| Mt. Hitchcock (in the sun) and the Hitchcock Lakes (in the shade) |
Shortly after that the sun finally cleared the crest and immediately I felt what the leader of the mens group had warned me about. Being in direct sunlight was hot! I removed my fleece jacket but had to keep on the windbreaker for a while longer because the breeze was chilly still.
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| Hello Sunshine |
Now that the sun had cleared the crest the Hitchcock lakes were lit and the mountain's reflection was no longer crowned.
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| Upper Hitchcock Lake |
I arrived at the summit junction in good spirit, ready to go on to the summit. Along the side of the trail there were numerous unattended backpacks and I wanted to leave mine there too because those two miles I had left to the summit were in and out. The top of my backpack can detach and become a smaller pack, but I didn't bring straps for it with me so I needed to improvise shoulder straps from my extra tent chords. As advised, I left the bear canister outside my backpack and inside it I left anything that I wouldn't need on my summit push. In the small pack I put water and some snacks and I started north on the summit trail.
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| The Whitney summit junction |
Only a few steps into the summit trail I saw the mens' group coming down on their way back from the summit. They were tired but looked glowing. Their leader told me that they made it to the summit just past sunrise and wished me a good summit walk. I wished them a good hike back to Crabtree and beyond, and we parted ways.
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| Lichen growing on the granite |
The summit is about 1000 ft higher than the trail junction. The summit trail follows the mountain's crest on its western side, and it was the least convenient trail segment along my entire backpacking trip, and by least convenient I mean that it had numerous rock scrambling parts and a few really narrow places between the crest pinnacles (the 'needles'). In short, despite the lighter load I was very, very slow, maneuvering between rocks and other hikers, of which there were many along the trail.
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| Mount Whitney Crest, view north |
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| View east between the first two crest needles |
The next needle window awarded me with a great view on Lone Pine, the green oasis town where I would finish my trip tomorrow. I could see the lower part of the Whitney Portal Road, the only road leading to the mountain from the east.
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| Lone Pine View |
Most of the view however, was to the west. About a mile into the summit trail I had a very nice view of Guitar Lake, showing beautifully the shape that got it its name.
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| Guitar Lake |
After the first three needles the trail became more convenient to walk on, but I remained at my slow pace because by that time the altitude caught up with me again. There were a number of people that were struggling along the trail, some of them were much slower than me. I overtook a couple of backpackers that were older than me and were also carrying their full backpacks with them. I found that odd, but I didn't know what their considerations were.
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| Mount Whitney Summit Trail |
I was becoming light headed so I stopped to rest and to eat. Looking down I saw Timberline Lake, way down Whitney Creek.
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| Timberline Lake |
A bit off to the south I saw a thin white line snaking below the mountain. Ot was the trail I went up on earlier that morning under darkness. I could appreciate the effort it took me to get high all the way to where I was. I still had almost a mile to reach the summit though, and about 600 ft more to ascend.
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| West Mount Whitney Trail |
The ultralight backpacker that I met earlier on the trail had mentioned some blue flowers that he saw by the summit trail. On the way up I Saw plants the were done blooming but it was here on the summit trail that I finally saw the magnificent Showy Sky Pilot in full bloom. It's a gorgeous flower and to see it one must go high. I was very, very thrilled to see it.
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| Showy Sky Pilot, Polemonium eximium |
High Mountain Hulsea was also blooming there. This wildflower I first saw on top of the Big Sam on my trip to Emigrant Wilderness in the summer of 2020. there it was blooming 'only' at 10,000 ft, but here it was about the highest it could be.
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| High Mountain Hulsea (Alpine Gold), Hulsea algida |
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| View southwest from the Whitney Summit Trail |
We said our goodbyes and I watched as they went down the trail, almost galloping down. I didn't have much distance left but that short distance also had more then 300 ft to ascend, and I was already very weary and somewhat lightheaded still. It felt as if I was still carrying a heavy load on my back, and that my legs were made out of lead. I paused frequently to catch my breath and took those moments to appreciate the grand view. From behind the Keeler Needle I could see the White Mountain, a 14,200 ft peak that is still in my plans to summit one day.
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| White Mountain Peak (far horizon) |
A little brown bird was hopping on the rocks near me - an American Pippit. It didn't seem concerned whatsoever by humans presence so close. Perhaps it was used to picking after people. It was the only bird I saw in the summit area.
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| American Pippit |
By the time I made the final turn toward the summit I was looking at my navigator every 3o seconds or so just to see how many feet I still needed to ascend. The last slope leading to the summit is a gentle one, so the Smithsonian research cabin on the top became visible only at the very end. It was maybe a 100 yards away but it felt like twice that distance.
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| Whitney Summit View |
On the final push I had to pause every few steps to catch my breath. I didn't get dizzy or nauseous but I did feel lightheaded and short of breath. I took many photos on that short distance to the summit, mostly of the grand view all around but also of interesting rocks and mineral deposits.
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| Mineral deposit inside granite rock |
Upon arriving at the summit didn't sit down but strolled around, hopping from one boulder to another, appreciating the feat I had just done. There were many people there, including a young couple that ascended with a year old baby in a carrier. I went to the eastern edge of the mountain and looked down at the very dry Owens Lake below, the lake that was dried up by the City of Los Angeles diverting its water sources.
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| Owens Lake |
There were a number of wood and metal signs laying around at the summit, stating the location and the altitude. People were taking turns holding them up for photos and so did I. I found it interesting that the various signs had three different altitudes listed for Mount Whitney - there was one sign stating it was measured 14,496 ft at 1930, and one sign stating it was 14, 508 ft. Most of the signs stated Mt. Whitney's elevation to be 14, 505 ft, which is the height found on the official sights of the National parks service. Now, Mount Whitney is still growing still, as well as moving north along the fault, but I found the sign disagreement amusing.
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| Summit Signs |
Eventually I did sit down to rest and eat, to gaze at the deep chasm below me, and to contemplate. I made my date with Mount Whitney. I was glad that that was my mindset because I didn't feel like I have conquered anything, except maybe my own physical difficulties. There was still the way down though, but for the time being I allowed myself to relax and enjoy the moment.
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| At the Summit of Mount Whitney |
From where I was sitting I also had a nice side view to the south of the Whitney crest, the high peaks south of Mount Whitney, and the deep valley carved by Lone Pine Creek.
I think I was about half an hour at the summit. Eventually it was time to head back. I stopped by the stone cabin that housed the Smithsonian Altitude Research Facility. The building was no longer in service but it is a historic structure. The inside walls and roof are covered in graffiti. I didn't add any of my own, but I did sign the summit record sheet in the box outside the cabin before starting my descent.
I thought that my descend to be faster but I soon discovered that I was wrong. Yes, going down was much less strenuous, but it was then that my feet started hurting again. I was walking slow now because I was trying to spare my aching feet. I found a good distraction in the grand view before me.
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| View northwest from the Summit Trail |
The clouds looked so low over my head, I felt as if I could touch them if I just reached up. Of course the couds weren't low, it was me who went up to meet them.
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| View north from the Summit Trail. The lake below to the left is Wales Lake |
I used the strongest zoom of my lens to get enlarged images of interesting far away peaks and ridges. I think many of them were west of the Kern and I might have seen them much closer from the Black Rock Pass on my last year's trip. When I get the chance I'll try t match them up.
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| View southwest from the Summit Trail |
I made my way slowly to the needles south of the summit. I wasn't the only one who had difficulties and I could see the altitude effects even in young and fit-looking hikers. I though it was funny how the clouds hanged right over the crest while the sky both left and right f the crest was mostly clear.
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| Mount Whitney Crest view south |
Going south along the crest I had a more complete view of the Hitchcock Lakes basin through which I was ascending a few hours and a lifetime earlier. The Upper Hitchcock showed no reflection from this angle. It looked like a dark and smooth gateway to a different world.
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| Hitchcock Lake Basin |
Needless to say, I took countless more photos of the sky pilot flowers on my way back down the summit trail. I know this post is already heavy with photos but seeing a sky pilot in full bloom is such a rarity for me that I had to post another one.
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When I started down the Summit Trail on my way back to the junction I was sure I wouldn't need a break on the way. The altitude however, was taking its toll on me and despite going downhill I was fatigued and lightheaded, and I did sit down for another break about a mile down the summit trail. I stared down at Guitar Lake, where I had stayed last night and where I ascended from. Through my strongest zoom I looked at the green delta around which was the tent city of all the west side climbers. The area looked fairly empty. The few tents that I thought I saw may have belonged to people like the couple I met several times along the trail - those who were staying on the west side even after descending. Of course they'd leave the tent there, for them there would be no sense in carrying it up the mountain.
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| Guitar Lake Northeast Shore |
I took some pain killers for my aching feet and slowly, step by step I continued down the summit trail. I paused between the first and second needles to have another good look at the scenery below me. There were all these dark looking alpine lakes that I guess are ice for a big part pf the year. Getting to any of those would require some serious rock scrambling. The area around and between the lakes looked barren but I knew that from close up there might be some tiny alpine treasures growing there. I also knew I wasn't going there to find out.
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| View East from the Whitney Crest |
On the last quarter mile or so of the way down the Summit Trail I leap-frogged another woman who told me that all of her group mates were ahead and didn't wait for her. When the junction came into view I could see a number of people there. With slightly renewed energy I went down the last bit f the longest two miles I've ever hiked in my life.
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| View of the Summit Trail Junction |
I reached the junction and with great relief I sat down next to the couple with the baby and not far from the group of women with whom the woman that I just walked down with was. I think I stayed there for about half an hour at least. I drank a lot, ate some, and mostly rested. By the time I was ready to get going again nearly everyone had already gone, moved on downhill some west but most of them east, which is where I was about to go. I took one last look west and down to the Upper Hitchcock Lake which no longer reflected anything, and hoisted my reassembled and repacked backpack.
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| No more reflection |
But then I had to go uphill again, with my entire load. Only about 3000 ft and a short distance, but after the 4 hard miles of the Summit Trail it was simply too much. The older couple who I saw struggling earlier on their way to the summit were the last ones coming up from the junction with me. They too were struggling up this last straw of an uphill.
This last uphill trail segment extends from the junction all the way up to the crest pass. When I finally got there I took the time not only to catch my breath but also t stare in awe at the extent of the drop I was about to go down.
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| View East from the Mount Whitney Crest Pass |
I took a few steps down the trail and stopped to look at Mount Whitney, now for the first time on this trip from the east side of the crest. It looked much more jagged from this direction. Behind me the older couple were making their way over the crest pass.
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| Mount Whitney Crest view northwest |
The first part of the trail down was relatively mild and extended southeast from the pass without turning. Down below about half way between where I was and the final drop to the valley shone the beautiful heart-shaped Lone Pine Lake. I wanted very badly to see it and I hoped that I'd have the energy to go by that lake on my way down the mountain tomorrow.
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| View down Lone Pine Canyon to Lone Pine Lake |
There were more plants growing east of the crest on the poor gravel soil between the boulders. I assume that because of the sheerness of the eastern slope it gets exposed from the snow quicker than the west slope, giving the plants a longer growth season.
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| Squirreltail Grass, Elymus elymoides |
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| The foot of Whitney, view north from Mount Whitney Trail East |
The clouds were getting thicker, gathering over the Whitney crest. High mountains do that - they collect the air moisture and create their own weather. It got chilly under the cloud but I didn't stop to don my windbreaker again, thinking that the cloud might blow away but in truth I didn't feel like taking off my backpack so I would not have to lift it again. Carrying the load and already very tired I couldn't kneel to get a better angle to photograph the wildflowers I saw.
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| Rambling Fleabane, Erigeron vagus |
Thankfully these pretty and very unique alpine zone wildflowers were also growing on the slope above me, more level with my eyes and camera.
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| Few-seeded Draba, Draba oligosperma |
As soon as they started down the trail behind me I new that the older couple would overtake me. They struggled on the uphill part but on the downhill they seemed to have no problems at all. For some time we were walking close to each other. When I told them that I planned to camp on the east side and finish the trail tomorrow the man immediately said that I should go all the way down to the Outpost Camp, the lower of the two campgrounds, which was the one they were planning to camp at. The man told me that the higher, Trail Camp, was very exposed and windy and could get very cold, and that the Outpost Camp, the lower one, provided more privacy because there were trees and bushes. I looked down at the huge drop before me and shook my head. There was no way I was getting to the lower campground today, not at the slow pace I was going at. Perhaps I could have if I had no other choice but I didn't want to push myself beyond my limits and risk physical damage or collapse with exhaustion upon arrival. I thanked them and we parted ways - they moved on at a good speed while I continued placing one foot in front of the other very slowly and carefully at a tortoise's pace.
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| The upper switchback section of Mount Whitney Trail East. |
The upper switchback section of Mount Whitney Trail, east, is about 1,500 ft high over about 2.2 miles. Its an endless downward walk that goes on an n an on with n letup. I looked down at the Trail Camp area through my camera at the strongest zoom setting and I could barely see little dark dots that were people.I had a looooong way down.
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| View done on Trail Camp Campgrund |
Before going on this trip my elder chika wished me to find a rosy finch. It is a high altitude bird species that she had never seen (nor did Pappa Quail) but I have seen twice already: at Spring Lake on my 2026 Mineral King trip and at Roosevelt Lake on my 2019 trip in Yosemite. In both places the sighting was at over 11,000 ft in elevation and way off any established trail. On this trip I though that my best chance of seeing rosy finches was at Guitar Lake but I have arrived there to late and too worn out t go look for any birds. I practically gave up on seeing these birds but when I heard bird calls from a ledge below the trail and I trained my camera on the little gray bird that was there I got very excited -I knew enough t identify by the beak that it was a finch. The species identification had to wait until I returned home and my finding was confirmed - a rosy finch indeed! I also found out on the California Birding site that apparently there is a resident population of them around the Whitney summit area and that they don't shy of scavenging human food from the summit hikers.
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| Gray-crowned Rosy Finch, juvenile |
I stayed in that point for good long minutes photographing this one bird I saw many many times. There was at least one more bird in the area because the finch's calls were answered, but I didn't see the other individual.
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| Wax Currant, Ribes cereum |
The Mount Whitney Trail was constructed to allow mules and horses to walk on and its grade very rarely is higher than 10%. It is certainly easier for humans to walk on too, but the drop in elevation is often achieved with many, many rocky steps that fit the leg size of mules and of tall men. For people with shorter legs it is more laborious descend this trail. Fr me, with my feet already flaring in pain, it became a nightmare. To spare my burning feet I would lean on my hiking poles into step to enable me to step on my entire foot rather than to roll it as I would on normal walk. Before long my knees, my hip joints, and my lower abdominal muscles were all protesting strongly. The painkiller I took earlier may have worn off or perhaps wasn't enough to quell my pain. I had two more pills left but I held on to them because I still had one more night to sleep through, and tomorrow's walk which would also be all steep downhill.
I passed near a funny looking cliff wall. I don't know if it eroded like that naturally or was like that as a result of building the trail. On the other side from that cliff was a very old and rusty rail which may have been placed there for the safety of the mules because it wouldn't have stopped a falling human. Behind the rail it was a sheer drop down. At the bottom of that cliff wall was a small spring. The flow was too little to actually collect water from but it was enough to wet part of the trail, rendering it slippery.
Throughout my descent I kept looking up to see if there was anyone else coming down behind me, but I saw no one else. I saw people going to the summit when I started east from the summit trail junction but seeing nobody coming down I assumed they all were going west. It looked like I was the last person to be coming down the mountain on the east side. I was the one in charge of turning off all the lights and making sure the doors are all locked, I told myself. I wanted badly to sit down and take a long rest but I knew that it would be harder to get up again and that I would just continue to hurt the moment I got back on my feet. I did take a short snack break about half way down, and I took advantage of the break in the clouds to photograph the pretty flowers that bloomed along this part of the trail.
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| Ovale-leaf Eriogonum, Eriogonum ovalifolium |
The clouds seemed to dissipate and the afternoon light shone on the valley below. I was much closer to the Trail Camp campground but I was still at least 500 ft higher. The day was growing old and the shadow of Mount Whitney was creeping east and would soon cover the campground area. If I wanted to get there with enough daylight left for my evening routine I needed to get going at a faster pace.
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| View on the Trail Camp Campground |
Breathing deeply I moved on, pushing through my aching feet and legs. Besides the pain, I now had to struggle to keep my balance. My state of near exhaustion made me wobbly and I had to be careful to not stumble on the trail rocks and possibly fall and hurt myself. I thought with irony about my original plan of reaching the Whitney Portal on my summit day. I wouldn't have made it at my current state. Would I have been able to reach the lower, Outpost Camp? Maybe, but not in daylight, and probably unable to function upon arrival. I was very close to my physical limits when I finally reached the level of Trail Camp campground.
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| Mount Whitney, view west from Trail Camp Campground |
I stumbled into the campground area, hurting all over and with the sole desire of making camp and going to sleep. As I had expected, all prime locations were already taken, but the area was big and I soon found a suitable site. There was only one downside to that site, that it was too close to the Summit Trail, but at that point I was beyond caring. I dropped down my backpack and moving very slowly still, I pitched my tent.
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| My camp site choice at Trail Camp |
There were marmots about and, remembering the men's group leader's warning, I never left my food unattended. It was nice to have them as neighbors though.
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| Yellow-bellied Marmot |
I had one litter of water left in my bottle, hauled over all the way from Guitar Lake. I guess that was one more kilogram that I needn't have carried. I used the water to cook my dinner and make some tea, and while I ate and enjoyed my quiet tea time I looked up at the mountain I just descended from. I was fatigued beyond any level that I was in any recent time, bth physically and mentally. Little by little however, a feeling of elation and pride swelled inside me. I did it! I kept my date with Mount Whitney, the highest mountain in the contiguous US! I approached the mountain with excitement and dread like a virgin on her first night with her lover. I was now on the other side of that date, and it was painful, but worth it.
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| At the Trail Camp Campground |
I needed more water so after packing my food in the bear canister I went down to fetch some more. The campground was near a little lake which was pretty low. I preferred running water so I scrambled down the rocks to the little creek that fed it and filled my bottles. There were a few little birds by its banks but they flew away before I had he opportunity to take any photos.
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| Lone Pine Creel headwaters |
There was enough daylight left for me to take a few photos of the creek and the tiny monkeyflowers that bloomed near it, but the evening was descending fast and soon the light was too low to see much.
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| Monkeyflower, Erythranthe sp. |
I made my way back to the tent and finished my evening routine. I was feeling much better now. Very tired still, for sure, but at a much higher spirit. Moreover, now that I no longer carried the bulky weight of the backpack my pains have subsided as well. Wearing all my layers now I sat on the rock near my tent and watched the black shadow of the Mount Whitney slowly engulf everything, leaving the sky and the little lake that reflected it for last.
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| Sunset behind |
In the language of the local Paiute Nation the name of Mount Whitney is Tumanguya, meaning, Guardian of the Spirits. I felt that my spirit was indeed well guarded that day. I was very fortunate with the weather and other than the expected difficulties coming from the altitude, the weight I was hauling, and the exertion of the climb I was fine and all there, with now severe impact of any sort. Whatever blisters and muscle and joint pains I was experiencing, I knew they would all go away soon enough. Relaxed and calm I entered my tent and tucked myself in for the night.
This was quite an achievement. Kol HaKavod!
ReplyDeleteThank you! I'm very happy I did it!
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