Fearless Foursome

There were a lot of emotions welling up inside me as I lumbered past the gray-granite stone shack on the summit of Mt. Whitney. The immediate and obvious feeling was one of relief. Relief that the long two-day climb up this mammoth mountain was nearing an end. The next feeling to stir in me was awe. Awe in the sense that here I was atop one of the greatest mountain peaks in California, indeed in the whole United States, looking out at a horizon choked full of other impressive mountains and dizzyingly deep gorges and valleys. Perhaps most poignantly though I felt proud. The pride stirred in me was not at my own accomplishment. No, the pride I felt was for my Dad who, standing before us on the summit, had given more toil and sweat to reach this spot than any of us had. I beamed with joy sharing this summit with him; the man who all those years ago started me down the road that led us both here

Lone Pine Lakes sits just above 10,000 feet

With our ascent of Washington in 1984, almost as soon as we began, we had hit a wall. Given our means and dedication, we had gone as high as we would for the foreseeable future. We made treks back up to the Whites to do Washington, but time and circumstances were against us. By my late teens I had other interests competing for my attention. Hiking, especially with father, was no longer a priority. Indeed, by my early 20’s, hiking as recreation began to wane in importance for me.

Verdant Valleys Flanked by Granite Grandeur

But something magical happened by my late ‘20s. I began to get the hiking bug again after that long dry spell. And by age 30, it all came back together with a vengeance. I had more enthusiasm, energy, and happily to say more money as well, to pursue this long denied love of mine. That year I would climb to 35 different summits, more summits than in the previous 20 years put together.

Soon Dad was back in the mix too. We made a couple of stabs into the at the Whites and one to Katahdin in those lean years but now we had broken free of our manacles and the hunger for higher peaks was stronger than ever. It took us 15 years, but we would eclipse Old George with Mt. Mitchell (6,684) around Labor Day of ’99.

The pace of my peakbagging accelerated thereafter. Six months after Mitchell would find me on Guadalupe (8,749). Three months after that, Dad would join me again for our greatest adventure to date. Kings Peak (13,525) marked our first foray into the wispy air of the over 10K set.

I spearheaded the attempt on Whitney when I got transferred to Southern California in May of this year. In order that I might report back to the group I was forming, I grabbed a few more high elevation summits. In the process I nabbed my first 14-er on California's 3rd highest mountain, White Peak.

I know that it is a only a matter of time before I go higher once more. To go higher than Whitney, though, will now take me to another level of mountaineering. So in a way I couldn't help but reflect back on all that has come before as I ponder new goals and aspirations. Quite literally, it has been a long and winding road that led me here. But there is still so much more to explore !

Almost 3 miles high !

TRIP REPORT SECTION

Everything is bigger in California! Yes, I know, that slogan originated in a place they call Texas. But when you’re talking mountains or pancakes for that matter, California is the place you ought to be.

We would need those calories in a hurry as we began our ascent of this formidable mountain. While certainly not the steepest grade I have ever encountered, the dusty trail up and out of the portal starts at 8,500 feet. With full packs and warm temps, it didn’t take long for the sweat to flow. So easy is it to be overwhelmed by the grandeur around you, that the first few miles to Lone Pine Lake pass relatively quickly.

The trail climbs a bit past the lake before leveling out a spectacular meadow near the Outpost Camp. From a previous hike in the next valley over (Meyson Lake) I knew how verdant these mountains could be in the presence of water. The area from Lone Pine Lake to Mirror Lake is lush. As if to showcase this bounty, a spectacular waterfall gushes forth amid the Jeffery Pines near the camp. Scenes like this are quite a contrast to the arid Owens Valley, which is almost always within eyeshot to the East.

Summit Morning

Past Mirror Lake, where we broke for lunch, the trail starts to leave the trees behind. After a few more ambles over the increasingly rocky terrain, the trail opens up dramatically. Treeline here in the Southern Sierra is about 11,000 feet. Throughout the trek upwards there are constant reminders of the rocky ramparts that soar skyward on either flank. But past the lake, it was humbling to feel their naked presence looming overhead unobstructed.

Trail Camp, at just over 12,000 feet, provides a brief respite from the steady grind upward. A “relatively” flat plateau, the camp is a busy congregation of hikers ether going up or coming down the mountain. When we arrived here, in the mid-afternoon, we were ready to take a load off. I was surprised how warm it was. It would chill considerably that night.

None of us slumbered with any great ease. Despite having spent the better part of the last week at or above 8,000 feet, my father, Alan and I were groggy and sore in the morning. Eric, who had even less time to acclimate, was noticeably feeling the burden of the altitude. The mood of the morning was guarded and cautious. The excitement of the night before gave way to realistic pragmatism. Each of us knew that summiting this mountain was by no means “in the bag”. Despite how far we came, success was not certain. I think the very real possibility of having to trudge down the mountain defeated reverberated in us all

Dad on the Trail Crest (13,600 ft)

Yet as we lumbered up the infamous “99 Switchbacks” something remarkable happened. Although some 5 miles and 2,500 feet still lay before our weary selves, the color and optimism of the days before began to flood back into our faces. The rising sun had warmed the slopes and our hearts. Step by step we measured noticeable progress against the blue and gray of our tents below. Before we even knew it we had rounded the Trail Crest (essentially the halfway point) and could gaze in glee at the panorama below. It was an invigorating moment, one that seemed to counteract the debilitating effects of fatigue and wispy thin air.

On this natural high, the next few miles seemed to glide by. After a short dip down to meet the JMT, the Whitney trail soon resumes a modest climb up to the backside of the needles. The views to the east are now obstructed by the bulk of the mountain save for a few treacherous “windows” which open uncomfortably close to the edge of the trail. We skirted them cautiously, pausing only briefly at each to admire the view. We sensed that nothing should to break our rhythm. We could feel the peak drawing near with each passing step. We could taste it.

In-spire-ing!

Onwards and upwards we relentlessly prodded, each fiercely determined to put this lofty ground under our boot soles. Breaths quickened, pulses soared. Our pace ground down to a crawl in response to the exertion and stresses we taxed our achy bodies with. The realization that the summit was at hand however, helped blot out the pain and discomfort. Once on top winces would turn to smiles, grunts into glee. Such is the relief of attaining the summit, that words are but a poor medium to convey the feeling.

There were throngs of other hikers milling about yet it was easy to get lost introspectively. For in perfect moments like this, time creeps to a standstill. The outside world matters little. Even when you are conscious of it, you know that all you left behind can wait. A long and painful decent still awaited us. Uncertainties still abounded. Our bones were sore, our muscles throbbed. None of that mattered right now. As we basked in the magnitude of our accomplishment and a bond was formed between us that day that will not soon be broken: a bond forged in sweat, toil and determination.

To Alan, Eric … and Dad … I say “ A job well done!”

Date of Hike: July 25-26, 2001

Trail Name: Whitney Portal Trail

Distance: 22 miles RT

Elevation: 6,100 feet of gain

Camping: Yes ... By Permit Only

Weather: Mostly Sunny/Brief T-Storms (Hi:60's Low:30's)

Click for Lone Pine, California Forecast

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