Day 43

Whitney summit today! I woke up to my 1 AM alarm feeling full of piss and vinegar, so I was packed and ready to go by 1:20. Unfortunately, no one else was ready until 1:45, so I ate half my snacks waiting. I led the charge up the approach trail, hauling ass in order to give myself more time for the higher elevation. The snow was solid around Guitar Lake, and the line of headlamps ahead seemed to go straight up, so I did the same. This steep snow climbing made me so hot that I was shirtless by the top. Eventually I made it to the “switchbacks”—scare quotes because at least half of them had no bootpack and instead were cut straight up the very steep slope by either rock hopping or simply front pointing up the frozen snow. After about 300 feet of this exhausting climbing straight up, I dodged a rockfall that certainly would have killed me and decided I needed to poop post haste. I found as level a spot as possible—about a 45 degree slope—and proceeded to poop into a gallon ziplock, my homemade wag bag. While wiping with the abundant snow, I nudged my pack and watched as it rolled and bounced in slow motion down the slope. I felt terror and sadness, as I knew that this all but guaranteed that I would miss the sunrise at the peak. Thankfully, the pack came to a stop atop a small boulder, so my day wasn’t quite ruined. Retrieving it and returning to where I began took the better part of thirty minutes, so I was now at the back of the pack. Eventually, I caught Roadrunner and we decided to stick together since we both thought our headlamps would imminently die. Her torch died first, so we had to deal with about 500 feet of very steep climbing over rocks and snow punctuated by icy traverses on just one very dim light. Fortunately we were soon walking on snow free switchbacks up to the junction which meets up with the trail from Whitney Portal. Because of the extreme number of day hikers, the trail from the junction to the summit is at this point a well-defined bootpack instead of the choose-your-own-adventure scramble we just cranked out. Having felt good all morning, I began to feel weak around this point. Probably the elevation. In any event, I had trouble keeping up, so about 500 feet from the summit I sent Roadrunner ahead and suffered through the last steep stretch at an agonizingly slow pace. I reached the summit at 5:40, the last to arrive at the summit from our group, and I felt a bit bummed about missing the sunrise for the first few minutes on top. My mood soon improved as I ate the rest of my snacks and hung out with all the friends I made in Kennedy Meadows surrounded by some of the best views of my entire life. We relaxed at the top for an hour, and descended very rapidly, choosing to down climb through the scree rather than follow the faint bootpack along the switchbacks or try our hand at the terrifyingly steep glissade tracks. I fell so many times on the descent that it became a bit ridiculous— on my butt, my side with the pick of my ice axe into my armpit (ouch), boulder into shin, boulder into shin again, and on and on. I was obviously struggling with the altitude but, not feeling any desire to go slowly, I just continued to send it towards Crabtree Meadow, where a huge lunch and a nap called my name. My rain pants paid the price for this nonsense, as they are now irreparably covered in rips. It was fun despite my clumsiness. The descent was doubly fun because all the dark blobs I walked past on the way up magically transformed into breathtaking mountains. The light also allowed me to see in its full glory the serious exposure of the route, something I completely ignored on the ascent. When I eventually got back to camp I was feeling quite drained, and a big lunch of beans, rice, chips, and a Nutella tortilla failed to revive me, so I took a four hour nap siesta in the shade by the stunning Whitney Creek. Eventually I rallied myself, Roadrunner, DJ, Sarah, and Foot Stuff to pack up and make a few more miles in order to make tomorrows climb up Forrester pass a bit easier. We only made it 3 miles through the late afternoon posthole hell, something particularly painful for my skinned and burnt shins, before making camp at a beautiful little spot off trail from Mile 770 with a prime view of Forester Pass. Another 3 am wake up tomorrow to beat the melt, so I am really earning my bed in Bishop on Thursday. And now, without further ado, the largest photo dump this blog has ever seen.