Pacific Crest Trail 2016: 7/8: Whitney

Sun pouring gold onto Mount Muir.

“From the sun I learned this: when it goes down, the exuberant one, it pours gold into the sea from its inexhaustible wealth—such that even the poorest fisherman rows with golden oars. For I saw this once and did not tire of my tears as I gazed on.” Thus Spoke Zarathustra, Friedrich Nietzsche.

The summit of Whitey is 7.5 miles from Crabtree Meadows with a 4000 foot elevation gain. I began my ascent around 9:00 AM on the 8^th of July. My goal was to make it for at least part of the sunset. I was in no hurry. I decided that I was not going to blow through the Sierras. Instead, I was going to take my time and really appreciate every alpine lake, every mountain pass vista, and every valley. The Whitney trail slowly climbs 2000 ft. for roughly the first five miles, passing many lovely alpine lakes. About three miles in I stopped to rest at Guitar Lake (not so named because of its location). The great thing about being in the Sierras was the abundance of *ice* cold water in alpine streams and lakes. I started to make a habit of stopping frequently to soak my legs and so reduce swelling. The views were spectacular to say the least. The lake was flanked by the snow filled hills at the foot of Mount Hitchcock. The beautiful blue color of the lake water gave way to an inspiring vista of westerly snowcapped peaks of the High Sierra. I made my way to the base of Mt. Muir, which is to the south of Whitney, where the trail climbs about a mile along a ridge to the Whitney Portal trail. The switchbacks were not too steep but extremely long. Aside from technical mountaineering routes, there are two main trails that one can hike to get to the Whitney Summit: a trail that ascends from the west, which I was on, and only accessible via the backcountry; and a trail from the east, which is used by those traveling via car from Lone Pine. The two meet at the Whitney Portal trail junction near the top of Mount Muir. From there it is a rugged two mile climb up and down a spiny ridge connecting Mount Muir to Whitney.

Timberline Lake just outside of Crabtree.

Western High Sierra from Guitar Lake.

Mount Hitchcock and Hitchcock lakes on the left. Guitar Lake on the right.

At a little over 14.5K feet, Whitney is the highest point in the contiguous United States. Whitney also has a high prominence of over 10K feet. Yet two things struck me about Whitney: the variety of its facets and its modesty. Like a well written complex character in a novel or play, there are many interesting faces of Whitney. The eastern face of Whitney is a sheer crag. To the north and south is a complicated spiny ridgeline stubbornly joining the highest peak in the lower 48 with its peer peaks. However, the top of Whitney, along with the western face, is relatively level and rounded. That is until right before Whitney joins the western valley floor below, which it shares with Mount Hitchcock and Mount Young (to the southwest and north west respectively), where Whitney once again drops into a series of sheer spiny granite spires. Yet despite its complex character, Whitney is modest insofar as it never really stands out. It is flanked by Keeler Needle and Mount Muir to the south and Mount Russel to the north. When I hitched back to Horseshoe Meadow, a few days prior, we took Whitney Portal road for part of the way. From that particular easterly vantage near the floor of Owens Valley, the peaks surrounding Whitney seem to steal the spotlight, downplaying the prominence of Whitney’s peak. From the west, the rounded top almost makes Whitney look like it is shyly slumping, revealing its humility.

The Whitney summit is on the right obscured by Keeler Needle (the little sharp notch jutting out on the right). You can see the snow fields on Whitney's gentle back.

A closer view.

At the same time, it was impossible to underappreciate the power and awesomeness of Whitney. Once I started hitting an elevation around 13K ft. the hike became more and more (and more) cardiovascular. After about an hour of laborious hiking along the trail crest I rounded a corner thinking that the summit was near. I did in fact get my first view of Whitney’s peak, but I felt crushed when I realized that I was still about 7/10 of a mile away. After close to another hour of hiking, I finally made it to the summit! The summit was a very large boulder field, that reminded me of my summit of Mount San Jacinto, and on the summit sat a shelter built in 1909. I explored the edges of the peak admiring the spectacular views of the High Sierra to the west and north and the views of the Inyo Mountains towering over Owens Valley to the east. At one point I was the only person on the summit making me the tallest person standing on the contiguous United States!

A snow chute on the way up to Whitney's boulder field. It looked a bit scarier than it actually was.

My first 14er!

North of Whitney. I think that is Mt. Russell on the right.

East from the summit. That's Owens Valley followed by the Inyo Mountains.

To my great surprise, people started coming over the sheer, southeastern sides of Whitney. It was two separate groups of mountaineers who had just successfully completed a challenging and dangerous mountaineering route to the summit. After chatting a bit, I decided to start my descent. I was overcome by the views as I worked my way back down the trail crest. Mount Muir and Mount Hitchcock were golden in the light of the setting sun. Recall that PCT hikers were not allowed to camp between Crabtree Meadows and the Whitney summit. This meant that I was supposed to hike the full 7.5 miles back to Crabtree. However, it was around 8:30 PM, which meant a long night ahead. Right below the Whitney Portal Trail junction, on the western ridge running down Mount Muir, there was an extremely small campsite on the corner of one of the switchbacks at around 13.5K ft. I decided that I would at least stop and eat dinner and admire the beauty of the valley as the sun finished setting and the moon chased close behind. But I was exhausted and my shin felt very tender. Not being a rule breaker but a rule maker, I decided to make a new rule: anyone hiking the PCT and the entirety of the John Muir Trail can camp on the ridge of Mount Muir. Recall the John Muir Trail starts at the Whitney Summit and continues over 200 miles to Yosemite Valley all the while mostly continuous with the PCT. I was going to try and at least finish the JMT so that I at least had a consolation prize should I not make it all the way to Canada, which was looking likely. So I reasoned that since I was not just a PCT hiker but now also a JMT hiker, the new rule allowed me camp before Crabtree.

Mount Hitchcock. Sunset from the ridge of Mount Muir.

The moon chasing the Sun from my campsite.

Starry night. That is a granite wall at my campsite. It is illuminated by the light of the Moon.

On the way down the next morning.

John Muir aptly said the Sierras should be called the Range of Light, so I felt it was very appropriate to finish the day admiring the play of light in the peaks and valleys from Mount Muir. I set up my tent, which barely fit on the small flat surface. I had difficulties sleeping that night. The issue wasn’t the weather since it wasn’t too windy, and while the air was very cold I felt warm in my tent and sleeping bag. I think the issue was sleeping at such a high elevation. No matter, I didn’t mind so much and got out of my tent between dreams in order to admire the plentitude of stars. Around 2:00 AM I could see a steady line of headlamps coming up the trail as people started making their way for a sunrise summit. (I was tempted to hike the 2.5 miles back to the summit myself, but it’s a strenuous hike and didn’t want to injure myself. No point in being greedy!) As I lay in my tent I could hear the rhythm of laboring breath and trekking poles as people rounded the corner of the switchback. Often someone commented in surprise when a headlamp illuminated the fact that a person was camping so high. One person asked their companion in a tone of surprise, “Who would camp up here!?” The companion responded, “I don’t know. Maybe a ranger?” I’ll tell you who would camp in such a spot: A muthalovin’ PCT hiker—that’s who.