Saturday, 13 Aug 16.0 miles, 11:20
Hitchcock Lakes basin under moonlight
I was going to not pitch my tent last night in order to facilitate an early start up Whitney, but nobody could guess what might come of the still-present clouds. So I pitched my tent and slept in it. at around 23:30 I got up to pee and saw a thickly overcast sky. Yeach. Fortunately, when I awoke at 2:45 for our pre-dawn start the sky had cleared considerably. We packed up quietly and by headlamp; no hot coffee or tea this morning. C&R arrived at our agreed upon start time. We began our climb with dimmed headlamps under a bright full moon. Our neighbor in space illuminated the landscape beautifully. We ascended over a couple of benches that were said to offer dry camps but there was a lake on each one. Then the switchbacks began. We adopted a slow and steady pace as we zig-zagged up the west wall of the ridge that culminates on Mt. Whitney. After a time we noticed that the sky was brightening slightly with the approach of dawn. We switched off our lamps and I noticed that I could not longer see the lamps of hikers above and below us. We pressed on in a light and chilly breeze and eventually reached Whitney Junction. We jettisoned all gear that was not necessary for the final 1.9 miles of the JMT. For me this meant leaving my tent, bear can, stove, trash, toilet kit (since I had my wag bag at the ready), and my spare socks. in my pack I kept my water and snacks, sleeping bag and mat (just in case), rain gear, puff jacket, and first aid. I delighted in the weight of my unladen pack; still, most folks seemed to ditch their entire pack, taking only a snack, water, and camera in a tiny pouch.
Summit Group, image taken by some guy on the summit
The sun was officially rising as we departed from the junction and was casting a golden light on peaks to our west as well as through the “windows” between the pinnacles, or “needles”, along our climb. Thick, brown haze from the lingering Lion Fire was evident in most directions but, fortunately, we seemed to be above it. Our progress was slowed, despite light loads, due to the thinning air and frequent precipitous drop offs. We spotted a snowfield but were assured but the earliest summiters, who were now descending, that it was no problem. When we reached it we found a deep trench, indeed it was hip-deep for much of the way. There was almost no danger of falling out of this thing. The snowfield now behind me, my mind wanted to dash to the nearby summit, but my lungs and oxygen-starved muscles set a slower pace. So I plodded on and made the summit at 7:52, a little less than four hours for the five-mile, three thousand-foot climb. The summit views were spectacular and, although not as giddily festive as Forester Pass, the atmosphere was one of celebration for JMTers and day hikers alike. Pictures were taken, champagne was popped by those who carried it, and a family scattered their father’s ashes. C&R followed not far behind us and then Woodley and Robert showed up later. Anita opted to skip the summit. We got a stranger to take our group picture and then started down to the junction.
Whitney Junction, where packs were retrieved
Progress was slow as there were now many more climbers and we took it in turns to step aside and let the other carefully pass. At the Junction I reloaded my pack and Robert was distressed that Anita was nowhere to be found. We assumed, and shortly confirmed, that she had gotten tired of waiting and started down to Whitney Portal. From the Junction we climbed a bit to Trail Crest where we met some climbers who had seen Anita on her way down. Then we began the switchbacks: ninety-seven of them to be exact, in about a mile and a half of trail. But these were forgivable (although the used wag bags strewn about were not) as the slope was nearly vertical. But as the terrain eased we kept switchbacking over loose, rolly, and sand-covered rocks that were determined to eat my ankles for lunch. There was no need for the last seven miles of trail to be any more than three miles. And they weren’t even pretty miles! More wag bags and the odor of un-wag-bagged waste accompanied us. My wag bags were still pristine and I am probably the first person ever to be disappointed to not have to use them. At last, we stumbled and staggered into Whitney Portal.
Whitney Portal chipmunk, used to handouts
All but I had a huge cheeseburger and fries. I satisfied myself with the only vegan options I could find: a cold soda and a not so cold Black Butte Porter. We saw Tyson, the youngest member of “the Italians” (although he is one of the two Americans) arrive. Apparently he had been teasing Chris about cheeseburgers for days so we decided to prank him. We slipped in with Anita and asked the waitress to tell Tyson they were out of burgers when he ordered. Then we rejoined our table and tried not to explode as Tyson went in. He was crestfallen at the “news” and we finally burst into laughter. A good sport, Tyson joined us with his meal, gleefully showing us the bacon that was added free of charge for being the butt of our joke. We went in to tip the waitress for playing along with our shenanigans. In pairs we hitched into Lone Pine with a plan to meet for pizza at 20:00. The Pizza Factory had vegan crust and I ate all but one slice of a 14-inch veggie pizza. Anita and Robert treated us, Chris and Rebecca, Woody, and his girlfriend Linda. Afterward, C&R shared our room as they didn’t have a place yet.
