The drive to Lone Pine, California is a long one from Utah, but I love exploring new roads especially when they cross the wide open spaces of the western U.S. We wanted to take a scenic (or at least a new) route on our way to our combined Mt. Whitney climb/Yosemite family vacation, so we decided to begin our trip by taking Highway 6 through the west Utah desert, including a stop-off at Great Basin National Park. The trip certainly didn’t disappoint in the “wide open spaces†department. It was a lot of driving though small rustic towns and vast desert landscapes with plenty of elbow room.
After several hours of driving, interrupted only by lunch at an extremely solitary rest stop, we were glad to finally arrive at Great Basin National Park. This was our first visit to this park, so we started out at the visitors’ center in Baker. Then we dropped the trailers in the parking lot and took the winding Wheeler Peak Scenic Drive to the top. On the return we stopped at Mather Overlook to snap some photos and gaze over the vast desert panorama below. From high on the mountain the view seemed endless. We watched as cells of brooding storm clouds blew swiftly over the desert, casting giant shadows that raced across the landscape and sent sporadic squalls to the desert floor in wispy columns.
With the day waning, we worked our way back down to the visitors’ center. Originally we had planned to spend the night in the Park, but we ended up leaving home a day later than we planned. So with time running out in the day we reluctantly decided to continue on our way and leave Lyman caves and other exploring for a future visit.
As we were leaving we got to experience one of the downpours we had watched from ground level. While fueling up in Baker a storm cloud blew over the town dumping rain. Within seconds I was drenched, but in the summer heat the rain felt good. We traveled on to Ely, Nevada, where we had a super delicious roast beef sandwich at the local combination Arby’s and gas station. The rest of the short evening we relaxed in our room at the Bristlecone Motel.
The next morning we continued our journey along Highway 6. I’d traveled the I-15 and I-80 routes through Nevada dozens of times, but I had never been through the interior of the state. It turns out that Nevada has more mountain ranges than any other state; a fact I didn’t know despite being a native. None of the many ranges that we passed through were extremely impressive. But they were scenic, pleasant and served to break up the monotony of what would otherwise be an endless sea of sagebrush and dust devils.
The highway travels through a repetition of wide desert valleys bracketed by juniper lined mountain passes. In each valley the highway extends for miles straight into the distance only to disappear into a far-off mountain pass on the opposite side. The valleys were largely uninhabited, and there was little to obstruct one’s view in any direction. It was a long drive but worth it if you’re a fan of lengthy road trips on lonely roads – which I am.
We drove to Tonapah, across the California border to Bishop and finally in the late afternoon we arrived in Lone Pine. Turning west we drove through the Alabama hills, past the alien-head rock to Lone Pine campground. We didn’t have reservations and we were hoping to find a couple of spots for the night. Luck was with us, and we found two adjacent sites far away from the incredibly stinky pit toilets.
It was good to finally be out of the vehicles, and the kids had fun chasing lizards while we set up camp and made dinner. Lone Pine is a tight little campground situated amid large rocks and vehicle-sized boulders strewn along the foot of the mountains. There is a good sized, wooded stream running along the north side, which gave the kids a diversion, and we went down and threw rocks and played in the water. The sites don’t have much shade, but we arrived in the evening and the temperature was perfect.
The next morning we packed up camp and drove down to the Forest Service office in town to pick up our permits and wag bags. After some down time at the pleasantly shady Lone Pine city park, we moved to our reserved and prepaid sites at Whitney Portal campground. The campground is located at an altitude of 8,000 feet, and it felt good to get up and out of the heat. After setting up camp, we spent the rest of the day relaxing, letting the kids play around the camp and getting our gear ready for the hike.
Even though we retired before it was completely dark, three-thirty came very early the next morning. But once I was awake it didn’t take me long to get ready to go. Munching on a cold breakfast of bagels and yogurt we drove up the hill to the parking lot at the trailhead.
Even at that early hour, the lot near the trailhead was completely full. As we were looking for a place to park, a black bear darted across the road in front of us and disappeared between two cars. We had just passed a couple walking towards the trailhead in the dark. So we backed up and told them that we had just seen the bear. The guy mumbled, “Thanks†and just kept walking. The girl looked at us with a very concerned expression and uttered a very nervous, “Um Ok…â€
We found a place to park farther away than we had hoped and started up towards the trailhead. As we approached we saw a Search and Rescue vehicle parked in front of the store. Its headlights were on, and the engine was running. There were several uniformed guys milling around it, but they didn’t seem to be acting with any urgency. So we assumed they were in the middle of a practice exercise.
Then finally after a year of anticipation, we stepped onto the trail at 4:12 a.m. The path climbs steadily from the beginning. The weather was warm with no wind. After a few switchbacks we began meeting people who were coming down the mountain. This seemed odd since it was very early for people to be hiking out. I wondered if maybe they were day-hikers from the previous day that had not made it out all the way. Soon however a group emerged from the dark pushing a gurney. It was a typical rescue gurney of wire construction supported on each end by a rescuer as it balanced it on a single large bicycle-type wheel. We moved off the path and they hurried past. By the light of our headlamps we could see that the rescuers were sweating heavily, and as you might expect, the passenger didn’t look very well. We never did learn what had happened.
After the rescue group had passed we continued up, crossing a couple of steams that intersect the trail. The trail continued to maintain a constant, moderate climb, and we slowly made our way up the silhouette ahead of us. The temperature was much warmer than I had expected considering the altitude, and I was sweating by now. I started wondering if I was carrying too many layers, and I stopped to shed one. But just before Lone Pine Lake we crested the ridge and the wind hit us with a cold burst. As it turned out it would be our constant companion through most of the rest of the day.
Because it had been so warm, I was sweaty and the wind quickly chilled me, and I added back the layer I had removed. Below Bighorn Park we crossed a series of hewn logs that formed a bridge across a marshy area. Negotiating the logs in the dark solely by the light of a headlamp was a little disorienting, and I had to pay attention to where I was stepping to avoid losing my balance. Soon the sun started to cast pink and salmon hues across the clouds above us. It was a beautiful sunrise and we stopped to take a picture. The alpenglow illuminated the mountain above us with a bright, warm glow casting orange reflections in the stream ahead.
I was using a nutrition strategy that I had tried out a few weeks earlier in the Tetons. The combination of exertion and altitude always has a damping effect on my appetite. I’ve learned that long days on the trail coupled with not eating well leads to bonking. Having fallen victim to this pattern on past hikes I researched some alternatives and was testing a strategy of fueling frequently using a homemade energy gel. I drank an ounce of my gel every 45 minutes or so. In addition I alternated between the water in my Camelbak and a powdered electrolyte drink in one of my Nalgene bottles. The plan ended up working great, and I never bonked even though I didn’t eat much solid food.
Soon we arrived at Outpost Camp. As we passed through there were people who obviously had just arisen milling around their tents. It was getting light and we stowed our headlamps. The stiff headwind persisted, and by now I had my shell on for warmth. The sky was overcast and gray. Thinking ahead to the summit I remembered the wind-driven snow pellets we encountered in August during our climb of the Grand Teton. I hoped this day wouldn’t be the same. Thankfully I had my gloves this time, and I was making good use of them already.
To save weight on water I started the hike with the two liters in my Camelbak. I figured that we would have plenty of places to filter before we hit the switchbacks. As it turned out, two liters lasted until the point that Lone Pine Creek crosses the trail just below Consultation Lake. The stream cascades down a crack in the rocks and pools in a grass-lined spot just above the trail. It was semi-sheltered from the wind and a convenient place to get water. So I tanked up my Camelbak and both of my two-liter Nalgene bottles.
Although I had been fueling frequently, my stomach was starting to feel a little queasy. I thought maybe some solid food would help, so while we were stopped I munched on an energy bar and mixed up some Gatorade. This seemed to settle my stomach, and I was soon feeling better.
Right after we filled up we crested the ridge and Consultation Lake came into view. It was a beautiful sight, situated above tree line in the cirque below Trail Crest. The trail passes to the north of the lake through Trail Camp. Once again we walked through groups of heavy-eyed campers preparing breakfast and getting ready for their own summit attempt. By now we had been hiking for nearly three hours, and we were feeling good. We kept up our pace to stay ahead of the crowds that were gathered at the camp. I was actually eager to get to the infamous ninety-nine switchbacks knowing that Trail Crest was at the top of them. Quickly we reached them and started up switchback number one.
Before the trip I read as many blogs as I could find that talked about this hike. Some had complained that the switchbacks should have been designed with a more aggressive rate of climb. Others bemoaned their rate of ascent, but I found them just right. In fact the slope of the trail was well engineered to my abilities, and we were able to keep a constant and steady pace to Trail Crest. Occasionally we would stop to eat something and would be passed by a group of hikers, only to pass them again as they stopped for a similar purpose. We played this game of leap-frog with several groups most of the way up. As the ascent wore on we met a group already on their way down. One of the hikers told us we had about twelve switchbacks to go. This came as a relief knowing we were nearing the top of this section, and before long we happily reached Trail Crest.
At Trail Crest the path crosses from the east side of the ridge to the west. During our climb up the switchbacks the weather had cleared, and now the sky was mostly clear and blue. The wind had also mellowed as the trail was sheltered by western ridge. But when we finally stepped into the notch that forms Trail Crest, it was like stepping into a wind tunnel. Without the protection of the mountainside we were blasted by a cold wind. We quickly retreated back behind the shelter of the rocks for a short rest and to take some pictures.
Here we were joined by a most unlikely climber. An older lady arrived solo carrying a backpack three or four times the size of mine. It was packed tight and had numerous items hanging from it that swayed in unison as she walked. Looking at her you would hardly expect her to be able to make it this far. She told us she had summited several of the peaks in the area, and she was determined to bag Whitney. We chatted for a minute and then left her resting as we restarted towards the summit.
From Trail Crest the path turns to the north and follows a narrow cut in the rock. To the west (left) of the trail the mountain drops off a couple of thousand feet to a rocky valley scattered with pine stands and alpine lakes. Through the notch the wind was so gusty I had to be careful to not lose my balance. From this point the trail loses several hundred feet of altitude as it snakes northward behind several large rock spires. I hate giving up hard-earned altitude. But without another option we worked our way along the face, passing several groups who stopped to add layers on account of the wind. The Whitney Trail converges here with the John Muir Trail. There was a large group stopped at the intersection of the two trails that had climbed up from the valley below with extremely full packs. They had dropped their packs here while they took a detour to the summit. Looking at the size of their packs, I was glad I was only carrying a daypack at this altitude.
After dropping for too long the trail finally started climbing again. After emerging from behind the needles, the trail switches back and forth up the west slope of Whitney proper. The trail weaves through large rocks and boulders across a coarse talus slope. The surface of the trail is broken and rocky. Just below the summit we crossed the only snow we encountered on the entire trail. There were two patches, each about twenty feet long. It was just enough to get my boots wet and make it hard to keep my tired legs from slipping on the slush covered rocks. I was feeling the altitude now and my pace was slower and my breathing heavier. Even still the slope of the trail from this point is almost too gradual. I found myself wishing that it climbed a little faster so we could get to the top.
But soon enough we caught a glimpse of Smithsonian hut at the summit, and it wasn’t long before we were standing near it waiting to sign the summit register. The wind was still blowing briskly, and we walked around the hut looking for a bit of shelter. We settled for the east side, but there was little difference. It seemed as if the wind were blowing from all directions and converging on the hut. We dropped our packs and felt that familiar relief of knowing that it was all (or at least mostly) downhill from here.
We were finally on the highest point in the lower forty-eight. We spent about an hour on the summit. On the way up I had been questioning my judgment in bringing my large DSLR camera due to the weight it added to my pack. But the battery in my Canon Elf went dead on the way up. The batteries in Justin’s camera also died on the summit. So my DSLR proved worth its weight, ending up to be the only camera we had to document the summit.
I wanted to make sure I took a picture of the official USGS summit marker because I had forgotten to do this on the Grand Teton. But I found that the highest point in the lower forty-eight has received a lot of surveyors’ attention. Unlike other peaks that have one or perhaps two, I discovered a number of markers scattered around the summit area. Each had different dates, surveying agencies, and a slightly different elevation etched into the marker. I took pictures of the five that I could find, but after the hike when I looked at the photos I saw that I never found the one that matched the replica of the 1905 marker that they sold in the Whitney Portal store (the one I purchased).
The view from the top was a spectacular. Visibility was superb in all directions. Lone Pine was laid out below us in miniature with the Inyo Mountains and Death Valley beyond it to the east. The peaks of Sequoia and Kings Canyon National Parks stretched as far as the eye could see to the west and the north. Below us to the south was the rocky cirque we had ascended, dotted with sparkling sapphire lakes.
Looking back down the trail there was now steady flow of weary climbers snaking their way up the final approach. We went back and sat against the hut to eat some lunch. After resting for a while, I could feel myself cooling down and stiffening up. Reluctantly I knew it was time to get going again.
The wind was blowing so hard I ducked into the hut to change from my trail runners into my hiking boots for the descent. Inside we met three couples from California. One of the girls was suffering from altitude sickness. She was curled up in a fetal position with her head on the lap of her boyfriend. She looked horrible. The entire time we were inside she hardly moved or made a sound. We asked if there was anything we could do to help, but they said they had everything they needed. So we wished them good luck, exited the hut and started down.
The trip down presented no surprises. As we dropped from the summit the wind was still blowing cold and strong. We stepped off the trail to let our older lady-friend go by. She was still on her way up and was close enough to make it. We shuttered to think how late she would get back to the trailhead at the pace she was going.
It was a relief to have gravity working with us for a minute. But with each step we knew that we were giving up altitude that we would have to reclaim to reach Trail Crest. But there was nothing to do but gear down and keep motoring. Getting back up to Trail Crest seemed like much more of an effort than I expected, but we finally made it. Now it really was all downhill from there.
At this point I took out my trekking poles for stability. The hike down from Trail Crest is simply an exercise in endurance. We basically set a pace and put it in cruise control trying not to stop unless it was necessary. Once we dropped below the ridge on the switchbacks the wind moderated and we warmed up quickly. As we descended I was able to take in some of the incredible scenery that was not visible on the way up. There were streams, waterfalls and lakes I hadn’t seen in the dark. There were also a couple of beautiful meadows including Bighorn Park. Watching our time now we only stopped occasionally to take a picture or keep ourselves hydrated and fueled.
After an eternity of walking we eventually saw the sign marking the turnoff to Lone Pine Lake. From here we started down the final drop to Whitney Portal. Like on any long hike this last stretch seemed to take forever. Estimating our arrival time we realized that the trip was taking us longer than we had anticipated. My feet were getting pretty tender and in spite of our pace we didn’t seem to be getting much closer. Finally we caught a glimpse of the parking lot far below. The cars looked tiny, but it was encouraging to be able to see the end. After we hiked a while longer we caught another glimpse of the cars, and they didn’t seem any closer. But soon we started to see hikers wearing sandals, without day packs, and with kids in tow. We knew then we were close. Finally we rounded a switchback and saw the large wooden display at the trailhead. After thirteen hours, twenty-two miles and sixty-one hundred feet of ascent (and descent) we were done.
Full of relief we asked a passing hiker to snap a couple of photos of us next to the sign. We then walked tenderly to the car and drove down to the campground. Our families gave us a loud and jubilant welcome like only kids can do. We had a hearty spaghetti meal that tasted better than any spaghetti I’ve ever tasted. It was also Justin’s daughter’s birthday, and she waited for us before opening her presents. So we sang happy birthday and had birthday treats for dessert. Then I sat by the fire and enjoyed being off my feet.
I’ve read blogs by people who have climbed Whitney in two or three days. These blogs would lead you to believe a day-hike to the summit ranges from super human to insane. But the trail is definitely doable in one day. It took us 13 hours with an hour at the top. That’s not a very fast pace. The key to day hiking Whitney is to keep a constant, steady pace.
This is a great hike, but it’s not a solitary, wilderness experience. In fact there were so many people on the trail reminded me of a mini version of Kilimanjaro. The only real wildlife we saw besides the bear in the parking lot was birds, a couple of pikas and several marmots. The trail is wide and well-traveled, incredibly scenic and not overly aggressive. If you plan on attempting it, make sure you’re prepared physically and equipped properly. Keep yourself fueled and hydrated. Like any other alpine environment the weather can vary greatly (and it did.) The wind was a constant pain. But if you’re like me, my worst day on a summit is better than my best day at work.
