The Climb Part II - Mt. Whitney

With a mixture of nervousness and excitement, I
left with my father and brother, Greg, to drive up to the campground for at Whitney portal on Friday morning, Sept. 16. I had seen my doctor to get some kind of meds that help your lungs adjust to the altitude. I had started taking those, but I had been warned that it can make you tingle and use the bathroom more. I think part of what it does is dry out your lungs a little so you don't get excess fluid in them in the high altitude. I think I literally felt it affecting them. My feet would tingle and I had to use the bathroom a lot
more. It's a bit of an odd feeling.

I had carefully planned my gear too. I had four top layers - a dry weave tank, a nike long sleeve sport shirt (thanks to Lindsey), a blue lightweight fleece Kevin had bought me years ago when I went to Kenya, and a rainproof black hooded windbreaker with vents (I thought it was so odd years ago when my friend, Naomi, made a big deal about loving vents in the armpit area of a jacket, but now I totally get it). On the bottom I had a pair of hiking pants that had the zip-off leg bottoms and a pair of rain pants packed in my backpack. Two layers of socks - one wool,

some sport gloves and wool mittens, and a fleece headband I bought last minute took care of the rest of me. It had snowed the week before on Whitney and there was a small

chance of thunderstorms (you can never accurately predict the weather at that high of a location from what I

understand). I had a generic camelback packed with lots of food and water and thought I had my bag for any excrement that I would need to carry out with me. I joined the ranks

of my brothers by buying a good headlamp to use that even has a setting for flashing red lights - could come in handy if I were stranded. A sturdy pair of waterproof hiking boots and some poles completed my gear.

We arrived at the portal not too long before sundown but long enough to explore a bit and find a beautiful waterfall. It was chilly - in the 50's I think. The campgrounds were lovely -wooded with a creek running through it. You look up and out and see tall slabs of rocky mountains side rising up to the heavens. If you look eastward you can see the vast open sky over the dessert from which we had just ascended. The road up from Lone Pine was a very steep curvy one.

We ate dinner back down in Lone Pine with my other brother, Kevin, and a few of his friends also hiking with us. On our way down, my dad and brother decided it would be nice to stop and pick up a hitchhiking couple. They had large packs and poles which told us know they had probably been hiking the Sierras. The smell and the well-worn clothing told us the same as they entered the motor home. It was fascinating talking with them. They were from Portland area and had started on the other side around Yosemite and had hiked for almost two weeks up to the top of Whitney and then down to the portal. They shared their experiences of weather, animals, beauty over their two weeks on the John Muir trail. Hmm....wonder if I could do that...not sure I want that full experience though - maybe just a mini-experience of that.

After carbing up on pizza and making a last minute stop in a store for purchases, we went back

up to camp to sleep early. Our 4 a.m. departure would come very early. I was grateful to have the comfort of a motor home to get my final hours of sleep (and maybe it would be my final hours of sleep if I didn't make it down off the mountain....okay, I really didn't think I'd die, but I'm not going to lie by saying the thought didn't cross my mind more than once).

Four am did come early and the cold and dark

just made the whole thing seem a little more surreal. I added my layers of clothing, ate some breakfast of bagels and fruit, and double checked my supplies. We joined the others to make a party of six and started up the trail after final trips to the bathroom (that was the last we'd see of a toilet until we came back down).

The trail head had a fancy wooden pathway but

also had a scale to weigh your pack on. My pack was relatively light coming in at just about 12lbs. My brothers, I knew, carried plenty of extra supplies, but they are men - they can handle the extra weight! It's good for them (and made me feel a lot safer).

We started up and it was a beautiful hike by moonlight. I

couldn't see much around me other than the trail upon

which my headlight was focused. The moonlight bathed the sheer rock walls surrounding us in a glow of light making it

an unbelievably beautiful, yet somewhat eerie scene. I could feel the 8,500 ft. altitude from the start of the hike in my lungs. We kept a good pace and the cold temperature didn't seem to bad, although I still had all my layers on (except the rainpants).

The sun began to rise around 6 in the morning, more than 90 minutes into our hike. We had made it up past the lake and took some pictures of the sunrise in the valley. Since we were hiking up the east side we could see out in between the mountains over Owen's Valley.

My camera could not capture the beauty of it. We found a meadow just as everything began to light from the day. We stopped there for a few minutes to rest, adjust, and take some pictures. It was really lovely and now the last hints of red and orange from the sunrise were reflecting off the rocky walls around us.

We hiked on and at this point, I was still feeling fine. The air wasn't too thin and I wasn't feeling it in my lungs just yet. I was surprised at the beauty up to this point. I could no longer call it beautiful, but interesting as the trees and plants stopped growing leaving just rocks everywhere. In a few spots there was a creek running down and you might see some hardy alpine plants growing and blooming. Those little areas were charming to me. The jagged peaks of bleak rock against the bright clear blue sky loomed above beckoning me to continue up but warning me as well of their strength and unpredictability. I felt somewhat as if I had left earth at this point and was walking on some lunar landscape.

We began to see more people at this point. We passed by a

few older women who told me I could stay and hike with them if I wanted and let the guys continue I on (I was falling

behind my brothers, but a few in our party were still behind me). I was warmed by their concern and invitation, but trekked on.

We stopped at the last outpost around 12,000 feet up. Here it truly did feel lunar to me since there was nothing but rock and dirt on this flat landing pad before the 97 switchbacks up to the crest. There was a large blue lake and several tents pitched up against any rocky outcroppings to protect from the cold wind that swept through this area. Part of me was glad we hadn't done the two day hike

and slept here because I could only imagine how

spooky that area must be in the dead of the night. Part of me thought how much smarter it would be to rest here and continue up, enjoying the trip at a more leisurely pace.

We did rest and snack for at least a 1/2 hour. Kevin used his water pump in the lake to refill my water since that was the last of any water source. I had only gone through maybe half of my water at this point. I put on my rain pants to help give added warmth and wind protection, curled up in a ball next to a rock in the sunlight and took a few minutes nap. I could start to feel a cough coming on. I was grateful at this point I had taken those meds to help with the altitude.

I needed to use the restroom, but since there was

none and no great area to hide and relieve yourself, I waited thinking there would be somewhere nearby on the way up the switch backs. I was wrong, but since I didn't know that yet, I started up the switchbacks which, at first, seemed harmless enough.

I have no idea how far in I was when the altitude really began to attack my lungs and it did feel as if I couldn't eat or drink and breath all at the same time. If I wanted to drink water, which I was beginning to feel I needed since I had a bit of a headache growing, I had to stop to drink because it took too much air to keep moving my tired legs at the same time. Luckily, at this point, my brother, Greg, was with me. His knees were bothering him, so even though he was probably in the best shape physically of any of us, he was slowed down by the pain. Kevin was up ahead, but where I had no idea since I couldn't see him.

It did seem like the switchbacks would never end, one after another. At least they were fairly short switchbacks, cutting their way through the rocks up the side of the mountain. I could look down and out at this point without too much trepidation, but I think the sense of being so high up was growing stronger. I didn't focus on looking out for very long - I mostly kept my head down focusing on the path in front of me.

We finally arrived at the cables, which was the spot that I was told would be the scariest for me. The only reason there were cables is because the rocks which slope steeply downward were very

smooth and would easily act as a slide several feet down. It didn't bother me too much since the

path somewhat slanted toward the inside next to the hill going up so I didn't have this feeling of

being able to slip and fall off. There were patches of snow or ice in places ever since I had started up the switchbacks and that was the other part I had been wary of but it was of no consequence yet...yet.

Greg and I finally made it to the last stretch and it was here that I began to freak out inside. The hillside downward was steep and smooth, although covered in miniature rocks all the way down. The path had narrowed and slanted downward some and bits of icy patches covered the

inside part of the trail. I felt exposed and unstable at this point, but it was short so I concentrated on the path, kept my head down and went across. I made it to where Kevin was resting at the trail crest at 13,500 ft. where you can look to the east and see Owen's valley, or west and see Kings Canyon and Sequoia. It was not a comfortable feeling to me standing on this narrow ridge. It was part incredible and part unnerving. I'm not an adrenaline junkie either. Adrenalin makes me want to throw up, pass out, and hyperventilate. So, my fight or flight senses were starting to kick in, but I was holding them in check by keeping my mind off of it and trying to remember that my life is in God's hands.

We rested a few minutes and being on the anxious side to just get this done and over with (this is how I react to scary things...just get through it as fast a possible...the longer it takes, the more likely I am to give in to my fears), I started along the narrow path that followed the ridge. I hadn't gone far when there was a corner I

needed to turn, but from where I was, it looked as if I could drop right off the edge with one step too far to one side and I'd plummet into the jagged depths below. I backed up and froze against the wall and thought to myself, this is it. I'm done. I'm turning back around and heading down. I won't make it to the top. My chest tightened and I felt that vomit was close to coming up. I walked a few steps back down the path where my brothers were coming. I think they saw the look of sheer terror on my face and knew they would need to do something or I was done. I explained I didn't like the corner, so Kevin stood on the outside of trail, and Greg just behind me, as I hugged the wall and quickly stepped around it (it really wasn't that narrow of an area nor was it drastic as I thought it initially looked).

I really didn't want to have come this far and not make it, so I just kept my head down focusing on the path. The whole crest trail was unnerving. Parts of it dropped off onto a steep rocky descent stretching far below. Rocks were oddly strewn along the trail with patches of snow or ice. You could tell there were rock slides that constantly rearranged the trail. It was more of a rock scramble than a flat path. Sometimes you could see holes between the rocks onto which you climbed. I just kept thinking about the hundreds of people who had walked this trail before me and had not fallen through or been smashed in a rock slide and also that ultimately God has my life in His hands as well as my appointed time of death (yes, I was thinking about death at this point).

I finally had to go to the bathroom - I could no longer hold it since it was probably about 8 hours since I had gone at the bottom. I found a good size sandy area sheltered by some large boulders along the trail where I could squat while my brothers stood guard on opposite ends of the corners to warn me of any hikers coming along. I quickly went and luckily did not need to use any the potty bag we had brought (which I somehow couldn't find mine anyway). It was such a relief at that point, I had been holding it so long! Guys are so much luckier than girls in this area...it's so easy for them to go to the bathroom in nature than girls.

Both of my brothers at this point were doing better than I, so they trekked ahead and I followed slowly behind taking more breaks. This last part felt like it took forever. I finally

reached the hill to walk up (covered in snow) for the peak. The narrow trail was gone and this

part no longer felt unnerving - no ledges, no vast expanse to one side....just a wide hillside to walk up with lots of people milling around at the top. Every few yards I think I had to stop and catch my breath, but I finally made it to the top, which literally looked as if it was just a huge pile of slabs of rock someone had tossed up there. I could image a God-sized hand picking up the huge slabs in his fingers and placing them up there.

I found Kevin and Greg and took off my pack and sat for a bit just taking in the immense sky all around me and the vast openness stretching downward from me. It was an incredible feeling to have made it to the top. It was sometime around 2pm - almost 10 hours after we had left that morning. The top had a bitterly cold wind, but the sky was still bright blue with almost no clouds. It was the perfect day to be there. There was a small shack at the top, and the book to sign in. People sat at the edges, something I don't understand at all.

Greg, Kevin, and I took some pictures, in which I look incredibly puffy between all my layers of clothing and probably swollen everything from the hike and altitude. My chest hurt between the thin air and tough trek and I was all around uncomfortable mixed with a weird euphoria.

It was a great feeling to be up there with my brothers, but I think the fear and adrenaline was keeping me on edge.

We rested, we ate, we drank, we took pictures, and we called and tried to text to say we'd made it to the top. Knowing we had to get down, we stayed less than an hour before the descent.

Obviously, down was easier than up. The trail crest still freaked me out though, and I was beginning to feel more and more shaky from the height. That part of the trail could not be over fast enough for me, but it seemed to again take forever. I just kept my head down, my focus on the path before me, and my trust in God. Somehow from that direction I couldn't even identify that corner that had stopped me in my tracks on the way up. There were a few spots on the path though that made my heart jump into my throat.

We rested a bit again at the trail crest and going back across that final switchback was still unhinging, but again I just went as determined and quickly as I could across. Even the rest of the switch backs, which had been almost no issue going up, were a bit disconcerting on the way down. Going down is always harder for me than going up. I think it's because you can see how high up you are easier. The cables were scarier this time, too, and icier. The temperature was dropping so the snow melt was turning into more ice. At one point a few jets from Edwards air force base rumbled across the sky, at first startling me. It made me think of an avalanche and scared me that it would loosen rocks around me (which I'm sure it not realistic, but at this point, my mind was certainly struggling with the rational).

Those 97 switchbacks did go by fairly quickly this time (much better than the way up) and my lungs began to feel better (although I was coughing a bit at this point feeling that rumble of stuff in your lungs).

We stopped again at the outpost area for about a 1/2 hour and relaxed, I put my feet up which felt so good to let the blood flow out of them. We kept going down the trail, which we got off the track of the one we had taken up. We made good timing going down and the sun began to sink around 6 or so. We walked back through that same large meadow again just as the light was dimming. Luckily we were on a wide path for the rest of the hike in the dark. We moved quickly down hill looking out at the twinkling lights of the portal below and far below, that of Lone Pine.

The last part in the dark dragged and it seemed as if we were never going to find the streams we needed to cross that would signal we were close to the end. I finally saw a sign that made me excited because the stream was near. I lifted my pole and pointed and the next thing I knew I was flying through the air toward the ground. I hit the ground with a thud on my side, one pole going one way and the other pole the other as my hand slammed into the hard packed ground. I felt an electric tingle run from my palm up my arm. I thought, oh no...what have I done? I sat up stunned for a moment but nothing felt too painful. My brothers helped me up and I tried to laugh off the shock of my tumble. I realize that what happened was in my excitement of seeing the sign, my headlamp went upward and I missed the rock that my foot hit. Since we were walking at a quick pace, this was enough to catapult me forward. The only real pain was in my throbbing palm, but everything else was fine, so we kept up our pace down the last mile.

It was such a relief to be at the bottom finally, seeing my dad bring the motor home up to the trailhead. It was cold, I was incredibly dirty, I needed the bathroom (but there was a real bathroom to use!), I was hungry, and I was incredibly gratified. It was shortly after 8 p.m., which meant we had hiked for about 16 hours and covered 22 miles with about a 6,000 ft. elevation gain.

Of course getting into the nice warm motor home, we discovered the refrigerator had stopped working, so the food we had stocked in there could no longer be eaten. Then, the brakes were squealing as well, so as we headed down the steep, curvy mountainside toward Lone Pine, we had to pull over because we could smell them burning. There was no real shoulder of the road, so we stopped somewhat in the middle of it a little ways from a corner, hoping that any cars coming down would see us in plenty of time to go around. I was very grateful to have brothers who knew about mechanics and how to deal with hot brakes and when to decide they had cooled down enough to continue. Still, I felt a little like we had made it hiking down the mountain to possibly go crashing over the side in a runaway motor home without brakes. I put my head down on the table and tried to sleep and not think about the lack of guardrails and strong curves we were headed down. I think my nerves were worn out from my immense fear of heights.

Obviously we made it down safe and sound. It was a great experience, one I would not have been able to do with out my brothers. My final thought at the end was glad I did it, won't do it again.

This is not meant to discourage others from doing it. You must understand that I have a huge fear of heights. For most, this would not have been a big deal since the trail really is fairly wide and smooth and very safe in the late summer when weather conditions are good. My brother Kevin has done this trail or the mountaineering trail many times before and never had one problem. But for this girl, once is enough!