May 18, 2021
- Start: Whitney Portal (Mile 0.0)
- End: Trail Camp (Mile 6.5)
- Distance: 6.5 miles total
As I mentioned in the prologue, I was just heading out of Lone Pine to begin my Mt. Whitney hike around 2:30 pm when I saw two more PCT thru-hikers huddled in the shade of a tree looking for a ride back to the trail.
I’d already made one unplanned detour up to the PCT this morning. So my good deed for the day was already done. I really should have just kept driving up to Whitney Portal Road. I needed to get to my own trailhead and start my trek already.
Despite my own pressing needs, goodwill overcame me. I stopped and offered them a ride. After all, it was still 90 degrees outside. Why would I want to begin my hike in the hottest part of the day? If I delayed my start another hour or two, I’d have plenty of shade from the mountains to protect me from the blistering sun overhead in the California sky.
Plus, sunset wasn’t until 8 pm today. I had plenty of time to get up to Trail Camp before dark. It was only a little more than 6 miles of hiking, after all. And so it wasn’t hard to convince myself it would be perfectly fine.
And that’s how I found myself driving back up to 11,000 feet at Cottonwood Pass again – instead of heading toward Mt. Whitney like I’d intended.
It’s probably not a surprise to anyone (but me), but I’d pay the price for my generosity this evening – both in my late arrival time at camp and in how horrible I physically felt after too many rapid elevation changes. But more on that in a bit…
When I finally arrived at the parking area for Whitney Portal around 4:15 pm, it was surprisingly crowded. I was feeling a bit queasy from the curvy drive up the mountain, and anxiety over not find anywhere to park was making my stomach feel even more sick.
The further up I drove into the backpackers lot, the closer my fears rose. Every single parking spot seemed to be full. Did I waste too much time today getting here?
But then, just as I rounded the corner near the pit toilets, I spotted someone pulling out of a shaded spot. Score!!
Now that I was finally here, I needed to get a move on. I hurriedly shoved the rented bear canister in my frameless pack and crammed all the rest of my gear around it so it didn’t feel so damn uncomfortable.
I hate carrying a bear canister, but it wasn’t really an option on this hike. I planned to leave my food and 80% of my gear at Trail Camp tomorrow morning while made the final push to the summit of Mt. Whitney. So I obviously didn’t want any bears (or squirrels or marmots) attracted to my campsite in my absence.
With everything packed up nice and snug, and one last check that I wasn’t forgetting anything critical, it was time to get this journey started. I would be chasing sunlight the entire climbed from 8,374′ up to 12,000 this evening.
Although I was running behind schedule, I stopped to quickly weigh my pack on the scale near the trailhead. Yikes! I was carrying 26 pounds with all my food, water, and bear canister. That’s definitely pushing the comfort limit on this frameless pack.
That weight couldn’t possibly be accurate. I was expecting to carry under 20 pounds for this short overnight trip. Maybe the spring on the scale was tired and worn out, I tried to tell myself. Or maybe I should have brought lighter gear. Either way, there was nothing I could do about it now. I was packed and I needed to get a move on.
On the opposite side of the trail, I spotted a green wooden box mounted to a pole. Thanks to the Covid-19 pandemic, the ranger station down in Lone Pine was closed to the public this year. So rather than picking your permit and wag bag in town like in years past, hikers could grab a wag bag at the trailhead instead.
I knew wag bags were required on Mt. Whitney. The alpine terrain out here simply isn’t suited for burying one’s human waste – especially when you consider that 30,000 people attempt to summit the mountain each year.
However, I didn’t know this resource would be at the trailhead, so I brought my own wag bag from my stash back at home. With no more excuses to remain at the Whitney Portal trailhead any longer, I pushed onward and started the first set of switchbacks up the trail.
Given the late afternoon hour, the sun was no longer directly overhead in the sky. It was mostly blocked by the tall peaks to my west and the large trees hanging over the trail. My fears that it would be too hot up here on the trail were for naught. It was barely in the 70s – and the temperature was steadily dropping with the sun.
The trail began climbing almost immediately, but I was feeling pretty good. I didn’t feel like the altitude was affecting me at all. The adrenaline was kicking in and firing me up.
Perhaps my acclimation plan had actually worked! I slept above 6,300 feet last night. I drove up to 11,000 feet – not once, but twice – today. Maybe the reality that I live just a few hundred feet above sea level wasn’t going to be a factor in this hike…
Nonetheless, I tried to remind myself keep a steady pace and not take off too fast. I didn’t want to end up sitting up on the side of the trail huffing and puffing as I desperately tried to catch my breath.
I had three and a half hours to get myself up to Trail Camp before the dark descended. There was no need to rush. Just enjoy the views and walk.
Less than a mile up the trail, I came to a sign announcing the boundary of the John Muir Wilderness. That’s when it finally starting to sink in!
I was hiking Mount-friggin-Whitney!!
With some luck, I’d be standing on the highest spot in the contiguous 48 states within the next 24 hours! I’ve always dreamed of this hike and now it was finally going to be a reality. Crazy how this sign is what made this adventure finally seem real.
Unfortunately though, the next hour would turn this unbridled excitement into jaw-clenching frustration. I was heading uphill, but almost everyone else out here were heading back down toward the trailhead. I felt like a salmon swimming upstream the entire way.
Some of these downhill hikers were completing their own Mt. Whitney summit bids. Others were day hikers just heading back down from Lone Pine Lake. So while I wanted the tranquility of backcountry hiking, I was having to weave my way through groups of cheerful hikers stumbling into my path as they talked or tried to walk two abreast.
After passing 40 or so people on the narrow trail, my annoyance threshold was near its zenith. I feared one more encounter with a group of oblivious people (who seemed to have no clue uphill hikers had the right of way) and I just might snap.
Luckily, before that could happen, the crowds seemed to finally taper off at the junction with Lone Pine Lake. I was three miles down, with just another three miles left to go before camp!
Just beyond that point, I saw a couple wearing giant backpacks ahead. Finally! Fellow hikers heading in the same direction as me. When I caught up with them I discovered they were spending the night at Outpost Camp and they had just over a half-mile to go before stopping for the evening.
They assumed I was staying at Outpost too, and when I shared I was actually heading up to Whitney Camp tonight, a look passed between them. It was one of those, “Are you kidding?” looks. Then the guy shook his head and told me I would never make it before dark.
Seriously? It wasn’t even 6 pm and this naysayer was filled with doom and gloom. Maybe he couldn’t make it there by dark, but what made him assume I wouldn’t?!?
I might have to push my pace, but I was definitely sleeping at Trail Camp tonight. That’s where my overnight permit was issued for. And that’s where I was heading!
Rather than waste more energy on this pointless interaction, I kept on walking. It was starting to get chilly with the sun falling behind the taller peaks.
About a quarter mile further up the trail I got to the sign announcing that I was entering the ominous sounding “Whitney Zone.” Above this point, I’d need to produce my permit if I ran into a ranger checking for them (Spoiler alert: That never happened, but – dammit – I was prepared with my signed permit in a ziplock baggie!).
By this point, the sun was still shining on the mountain tops ahead of me, but the trail was completely ensconced in shade. The temperature seemed to drop 10 more degrees without any sunshine directly on me, and there were large patches of snow were starting to appear along the route.
I caught up to another solo hiker who was taking photos of the snow and the two of us hiked together for a bit. He said he was headed to Outpost Camp tonight, just like the duo I’d met earlier. But, he had a far less pessimistic attitude.
I enjoy chatting with him and learned that he’d lived in California his entire life, but this was his first time on Mt. Whitney. After swapping several stories, we switched to talking about the Tahoe Rim Trail (which we’d both hiked in the past few years), and then suddenly the trail rounded a curve just above Bighorn Park.
The landscape that unfolded in front of us stopped us both dead in our tracks.
Wow! What a picturesque surprise! I didn’t expect these vibrant colors, with purple and gold dotting the meadow’s floor. And that mountain backdrop! If I could have stopped anywhere on the mountain and camped, THIS would have been my spot.
It was absolutely, unbelievably gorgeous. My photos don’t even begin do it justice.
My companion wanted to stay put and take more pictures as the sun changed position, but I needed to keep moving toward this evening’s destination. I bid him goodbye and kept walking solo as I visually feasted on my surroundings.
Just beyond Bighorn Park, the trail curved once again and opened up onto to Outpost Camp. I can see why this was such a popular spot to stop for the night. There we lots of flat (albeit rocky) areas for tents. And unlike Trail Camp, there were actually some decent trees where people could hang hammocks.
Outpost Camp is also ideal for people who want (or need) a bit more time to acclimate they bodies because it sits at 10,385 feet. If I learned anything from my Kilimanjaro trek back in 2016, it’s best to hike high and sleep low.
Hikers with 3 days to summit Mt. Whitney would be smart to hike up to Outpost Camp their first night and let their body acclimate to the elevation. Then they can hike up to the summit (14,505′), and return back down to sleep at Trail Camp (12,000′) or Outpost Camp (10,385′) for a second night with fewer negative side effects.
Unfortunately, I only had a 2-day permit in my possession. So I needed to get to the first 6.5 miles of this 22-mile journey knocked out on my first day. Getting all the way up to Trail Camp tonight would make tomorrow easier for me. I’d only have 15.7 miles of hiking to get to the summit and back down to the Whitney Portal again.
The next three miles to Trail Camp as I climbed above 10,500 feet were definitely more exhausting than the prior miles. I was feeling the altitude and seemed to be constantly thirsty. Moreover, my body just seemed to be moving at a significantly slower and slower pace with each step.
I should have been taking pictures and trying to capture the journey as I passed Mirror Lake and several other highlights along this section of the trail. But, I didn’t. My hands were getting cold. The wind was starting to pick up. I was feeling more and more tired.
My focus was 100% about just putting one foot in front of the other at this point. I became hyper-focused on how the trail itself and was blocking out my surroundings because it was so damn hard. I tried to assuage any internal guilt I felt by telling myself I’d definitely take lots of pictures on the way back down tomorrow instead.
Then, around mile 5, the trail passed beside Lone Pine Creek, and noticed was a guy who seemed to be resting on the grassy area beside the creek. As I got closer, I could see he wasn’t really relaxing. He was laying on the ground to get a better vantage point with his camera.
And then I noticed he was missing a leg.
He’d removed his prosthetic leg, which was now lying in the grass next to his daypack while he maneuvered himself for his photos without it.
I’ll admit, I felt a little humbled in that moment.
I was mentally complaining to myself about how difficult this climb seemed to be for me. I’d whimpered about not having the energy to pull my smartphone out of its pouch on my shoulder strap to take photos. Yet, I had the privilege of a fully capable body assisting me.
Sometimes I need signs like this one to remind me to get out of my damn head and appreciate my surroundings. Yes, I was cold. Yes, I was mentally and physically tired. But my challenges were not anymore difficult than everyone else’s out here.
And with that I took out my camera.
Just above the creek, the treeline ended. The terrain would just be rocks, dirt, and snow from here on up to the summit. The wind was picking up and the exposed skin my legs were now felt insanely cold, but I kept moving. Stopping to pull out my long pants wasn’t going to get me closer to camp faster.
I rounded Consultation Lake and could see it was covered in ice and snow. By this hour, the sun was rapidly disappearing. Just the tops of the tallest peaks seems to capture the last glimmers of sunshine, while everything else was bathed in gray shadows that revealed the chilliness I was beginning to feel at this elevation.
I kept looking down at my GPS watch to see my progress. I should be close to camp by now. My watch said I was at mile 6.3. Wasn’t Trail Camp supposed to be at mile 6.1? Yet, I wasn’t there yet.
According to Guthook, I still had another 0.3 miles and 300′ of elevation left to go after Consultation Lake. The enthusiasm and energy I’d felt just a few hours ago at Whitney Portal was long gone. I was having to dig deep here to stave off the feeling that Trail Camp wouldn’t ever show itself.
But then I crested a series of boulders. A wide open area beside a small lake emerged in front of me. Oh thank goodness! It was Trail Camp. I was freezing, but I was finally there!!!
It was now 7:40 pm. The sun was fully behind the mountains and provided no warmth. The wind was fierce and blowing. Everyone else had their tents set up next to boulders that serve as small windbreaks, and they were bundled in long pants and puffy coats.
I took everyone else’s lead and looked for an established spot on the leeward side of some large boulders too. There was a primo spot not far too off the trail, but someone had a wag bag partially set up beside the boulder with a rock holding the sides of it open.
Nope! Whoever this person is, they are going to need to find somewhere else for their stupid wag bag. My tent is going to take priority. This is a tent site, not a wag bag site. Besides, who would want to go to the bathroom within view of every single person walking down the trail?
With a little effort, I got my free-standing tent up and got my rainfly secured under some rocks. Then I dove inside and tried to get my body warm again in some fleece pants and my 0 °F quilt. Ah that was sooo much better!
I should have gone down to the tarn and gathered water for the morning, but I was too beat from the hike. I had enough water left to boil for dinner and get me through the night. I could worry about water in the morning.
My appetite was almost non-existent at this altitude, but I’d force myself to eat something. I knew I’d need the calories to keep me warm through the night as the temperature dropped below freezing.
As I sipped a pot full of instant coffee mixed with hot chocolate, I took stock of my physical condition. I was tired, but my body was warming up again. My lips were super chapped from the wind, plus I had a headache.
I knew from experience, my fatigue and headache were side effects from the high elevation. It was a sign of minor altitude sickness. I’d just have to wait and see if it got any better. If it got worse, the only solution would be to head back down the mountain.
Perhaps those two trips up to 11,000′ to drop those PCT hikers off at Cottonwood Pass was a mistake. I’d forced my body to repeatedly go up to a high elevation then rapidly dropped back down to a low elevation. I think that may be why I feel so crummy now.
If I’d just gone to Whitney Portal and given myself ample time to take breaks instead of racing the sun this afternoon, perhaps I wouldn’t be in this miserable condition right now.
Day 1 Summary
HIGHLIGHTS
- I’m stoked to be hiking Mt. Whitney. After years of logistical challenges with the permits, I’m finally doing it!!
- The views of Bighorn Park reminded me how diverse and absolutely beautiful the terrain can be in the Sierras.
- I made it to Trail Camp in one piece! There’s still another 5 miles to the summit, but I’m more than halfway there!
CHALLENGES
- My super late start getting on the trail this afternoon deprived me of an easier hike. If I’d started earlier, and taken lots of breaks, I might not feel quite so crummy now.
- My pack is definitely much heavier than I would have liked. I want to put all the blame on the stupid bear canister, but honestly, my free-standing tent and super warm quilt were non-negotiable items too.
- The altitude! I’m hoping I acclimate over the next few hours at Trail Camp because this pounding headache and the waves of nausea might force me reconsider where I’ll be able to summit safely.
