I had been dreaming of bagging Mt. Whitney for months. At 14,505 feet (4421 m), it’s the tallest peak in the lower 48 states and a pretty hearty climb. So as my days in California were coming to an end, I started to get worried that I wouldn’t get a chance to do it. I went online a number of times to check for permits. The whole year was booked. Then I called the ranger station and resorted to “I have a year to live and this is my … cough, cough…last dying wish…cough, hack…could you please make an exception and … achooo… issue me a permit?” They had heard it all before. No luck. They said I could try to walk-in, just in case there were cancelations, but not likely for the weekend.
I left Orange County with Milad on Friday at noon. The ranger station closes at 5:00pm, so I had to drive like a bat-out-of-hell and got there at 4:53, dashed in and started the “laying down the charm” process, the the “very sad face and disappointed” look and just as I was trying to pull the “dying man routine,” she found two last overnight permits. The caveat was that we had to have large overnight backpacks to use them. “Yes, we do! no prob!” I’d just carry the sleeping bag and the large pack, what the hell.
I set the iPhone alarm for 5:30 am, but forgot that it was set for weekdays, that old am/pm thing is a solved problem, but now we have to deal with this nonsense. Milad woke up at six and woke me up. We rushed and dashed out the door. He was nervous and worried about this climb. In the car he started nose bleeding and after a mile of hiking, we decided it was best if he turned around briefly after the start of the start of the Mountaineers' Trail . He took the big overnight backpack and headed back.
With my lighter load, I hit the trail hard. The mountaineers route does not actually have a trail. There are cairns here and there, but for the most part it’s guess work, path finding and trusting somebody else’s GPS tracks that I had downloaded to my phone. Turns out this guy had made too many mistakes and unnecessary zigzags here and there. So I came to use it only as a reference and only when I felt totally lost.
The route consists of several major terrains:
The early wooded area: Lots of bush whacking and creek jumping.
The ledges: The correct ledges on the sides of the cliffs that are hard to find, but not too hard to climb and traverse. There is a lot of exposure (possibility of falling long heights) but overall, if you don’t get lost here, it’s pretty straight forward. I did get lost, and ended working and climbing a lot harder than needed and gained a couple of scratches in return. I ran into a couple of younger climbers here who were also struggling to find the path and between the three of us, we managed to get through the ledges. They were not into stopping and picture taking and sight seeing, so soon they disappeared.
The Open Valley Floor:
In this area the river runs on granite slabs from lake to lake, with the last lake being upper boy scout lake and partially frozen over. This area is the zen of the zen of mountaineering. I wish I could live there for a month. There was not another soul in sight, there was peace, beauty and music all around.
Gravel Shoot (Hell):
This is a long section in a steep gravel grade with ice on one side and rocks on the other: Two steps forward one step back, mixed with scurrying up rocky sections.
Final Climb:
This is an almost technical section that is a fantastic finish to this route: Rock climbing to the summit.
The summit is a broad with eroded rock slabs and a stone hut. There are large crowds who ascend from the Whitney trail. I took the normal Whitney trail back down to see more of the mountain. Where I had only seen two other people on the Mountaineers’ trail, this trail was lined up with hikers. But it was fun to stop and chat with other hikers.
The Bear Encounter
I had been sweating for 13 straight hours in long jeans and a long sleeved shirt. I was dusk, and around this turn, up comes this giant baby-elephant-sized brown bear, just galloping up on the trail. And I am half running because it was getting dark. So we both put on the brakes hard and come to a dead stop. The bear's head is the size of a basketball, round and goofy looking, standing on all fours he is as tall as my chest; he looks shocked, takes one glance and turns around and takes off in the other direction, leaving a cloud of dust behind. This whole transaction lasted about 2 seconds. He was quicker to think of what to do than me. He just sensed this dude meant business, or figured the meat under this layer of salt crusted sweaty skin was not worth working for. I took my phone out of my pocket and chased after him (to take a picture, not to give him my number, I don't swing that way), but he was gone! Who says you can't outrun a man? Only then I started to get scared and think “wholly poopsicles, I just almost became dinner!” So I took my knife out of the backpack, found a good sized stick, and walked very carefully and circumspectly down the trail, talking trash to the invisible bears that were hiding all over the woods the whole way down, warning them how badass I was and how I had just beaten the crap out of their head honcho.
Video Diary
Topo Map of the Track
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