My Whitney Experience

I've been putting off writing about this for over a year because it's hard for me to talk about my mistakes. I like to focus on the positives, but it's important to share your flaws and learn from your past. This sounds dramatic and in some ways it is. But this is a post about the craziest hike of my life. 

Mt Whitney hike just past Trail Crest

I entered the lottery three times before I won a spot to hike Mt Whitney, the tallest mountain in the contiguous United States and only 3 1/2 hours north of LA in the Sierras. At first I figured I'll see if I get it, and if I do, I will figure out how to hike it. The third time I decided instead that I was going to start training before I even entered the lottery. If I got it, great. If not, I was still going to become an avid hiker in LA. This change of mindset mixed with some luck was the winning combo I guess. I won the lottery and put the pedal to the metal. I was going to hike Mt Whitney, the day after my 30th birthday. I was hiking once a week, and walking to work every day that I wasn't hiking. I was probably clocking 30-40 miles a week. It helps that I hate finding parking, so I am willing to walk hours to avoid the anxiety that comes with parking in LA. I found a crew to hike with me, but all except one were not local to LA. Lulu, my local hiking ally and me got to work. We decided to train by hiking the SoCal 6 Pack (which I will do another blog post about. For sure some of my favorite hikes around LA) As summer, was creeping toward us, one major hiccup was beginning to surface. Late snowfall, and cool temperatures, were causing the snow on Mt. Whitney to linger longer and longer. I was checking the weather everyday. It became clear that the snow on the 99 switchbacks may not melt before our July 9th hike day. The infamous switchbacks, while intimidating, were nothing compared to what the alternative was: THE CHUTE. The chute is the alternative route taken in the winter by mountaineers attempting to summit Whitney. It is dangerous attempted by beginners with or without the appropriate gear. Lulu and I realized this may be our only hope in summitting this mountain we'd been obsessing over for the past few months. We found the only mountaineering class still open this late into the season. We drove up in the middle of the night to the East side of Yosemite and took an REI Mountaineering course where we learned how to use crampons and ice axes, as well as techniques to keep us safe in the snow and ice (Crampons are basically knives that you attach to the bottom of your boots) It was honestly incredible. And as a Georgia peach, I was pretty proud at how comfortable I felt with the gear and the snow. 

Mountaineering training with Lulu in June

Okay, so now we were prepared for anything. We trained at altitude, we trained for distance, we trained for snow. Let's do this. I arrived in Lone Pine to obtain our permits for the hike and talk to the rangers. I asked how the snow was looking and he said that the 99 switchbacks were almost clear, but the chains portion was still snowed over so if we took that route to be prepared to go onto the outside of the chains.  I asked what he would do, and he said it was up to us and what we were prepared and comfortable with. Okay well this was good news. Half of my crew had not had the mountaineering training that Lulu and I had. So this opened up the possibility that we all could summit. 

Permits and map acquired

So the next hard blow was realizing that my 60 year old mother, who was planning on hiking it as far as she could, was not going to be able to join us. We had to make the call for her safety. In order to hit the chute, and summit at safe times, we had to begin the hike at 1 am. With the pace we were going to have to maintain, and the presence of snow on the trail and water crossings during the beginning, we realized that it would have been dangerous for all of us if she went. I had to tell my mom, on my birthday, that she shouldn't do the hike with us. This broke my heart, she had been training for months to attempt this journey with me. But with what ended up happening, I couldn't have been more relieved that she stayed behind. And I am very grateful that she was with me for two of the local six pack summits I did during training (She even summited San Jacinto!) 

Mom and the crew on our acclimation hike the day before

We hit the trail a little later than planned at like 1:30 am. We had a plan to break every 30 minutes to try to eat, drink water, and acclimate (The Mt. Whitney trail has an over 6,000 ft elevation gain.) We were probably moving a little slower than I would have liked (I only yelled at everyone once that we had to move faster and stop taking pictures, sorry about that again, Scott) but we hit Trail Camp at around 8 am. 

Refueling at Trail Camp

I wanted to get there by 7, so the snow on the chute would be firm enough. We were waffling on who would do the chute and who would take the switchbacks. Jenn and Jim didn't have the right equipment to hike the chute, so they opted for the classic route. The rest of us were on the fence. I blame my new sense of confidence and Lulu's sense of adventure and both of our stubbornness, but we decided to take the chute. Here's the long and short of it, we started too late. And we knew that. But adrenaline was pumping through our veins and our ice axes were burning holes in our packs. It started off fine, but about 20 minutes in, it was clear that the snow was too loose. We were slipping back and postholing every step (postholing is when you think you are stepping on solid snow and your leg falls like 2 ft). It didn't seem possible to turn back at that point though. There was a long stretch of boulders half way up the chute. We decided to try to make it to the boulder field and scramble up the boulders instead of hiking alongside them in the melting snow. This was strenuous but safer. Then we had to finish up the rest of the way. The chute is about a 45 degree slope and with ice melting beneath us and sun spots and postholes getting bigger, I felt every degree.

Scott hiking up the second half of the chute

 Lulu made it up first, followed shortly behind by me, and then Scott following behind. Jenn and Jim made it up the switch backs and were waiting up at Trail Crest cheering us on. That made it very clear, we should have done the switchbacks. By the time Scott made it up, after losing a crampon, we were now way behind. We still had another 2 miles to the summit. This seems like nothing, but not when you are over 13,000 ft up and still having to deal with snow. 

Trail Crest before we knew what would happen

We pushed forward and slowly but surely we made it to the summit. We were clearly the last group up there. We saw people coming down about a half mile from the top. I was ecstatic everybody summited. But it was too slow. We were very very behind. We were going to need to book it down. But unfortunately, some of the group had pushed past what their body could handle. 

The entire crew at the summit!

There was a spot with cell service about a mile and a half from the top. When we approached I called my boyfriend, Paul, to tell him that there was a chance we were not getting off the mountain tonight. I knew I could make it down and how long it would take me. I told Paul to meet me in the parking lot at the trailhead at midnight. If I wasn't there, we were spending the night. About 20 minutes after I made that call, I knew we weren't getting off that damn mountain. I wasn't going to leave my friends and family alone up there. We started it together and we were going to finish it together. We made it down to Trail crest about 45 minutes before sunset. We didn't want to get stuck on the switchbacks in the dark, and the ice had turned into razors, so glissading down the chute was not an option. So we decided to prepare camp. We found a cave and some rocks to make a fire ring. We were above the treelike, but we gathered as many sticks and burnable material as we could find. We combined all of our food to see what we had. The boys went to try and find cell service so we could warn our families that we weren't coming down tonight. We layered every stitch of clothing we had on us and then we just waited. Full disclosure, I had a panic attack and everyone else was a pillar of strength and stability. Jenn was very weak and suffering from dehydration and mild altitude sickness and she still held it together better than me. The night was very cold and very long (windchill brought the temp to below zero and the sheriff described it as "survivable"). We had enough kindling for about an hour long fire, which we caved and built a little after 11pm. The rest of the night was changing up formations under the 3 space blankets we had (for 5 people). We heated up some rocks in the fire to try to use as heaters after the fire was out. Two of the 3 space blankets were those emergency aluminum foil ones and once the wind picked up at 2 am; they were soon ripped apart by the wind and  we were down to one blanket for 5 people. It turned into a waiting game for sunrise. I just wanted to start hiking again. I have never been so cold. Sunrise came and we began to prepare for the descent. We were first greeted by two early morning hikers coming up the chute. It had begun, the hike of shame. As we made it down the 99 switchbacks, we started passing hikers on their way up, everyone assumed we started that morning. NOPE. Some we told of our experience, some we just smiled and nodded and said, "Oh it was great." I couldn't get down that mountain fast enough. But others were content at moving at a steady pace (and probably exhausted from our sleepless night.) 

A new day

I literally danced down the last mile of our journey. I got cell service and called my mom and boyfriend and told them when we would make it down. Turns out Lulu's partner had also driven up to Lone Pine to greet us at the bottom as well. So apparently, people were also freaking out off the mountain. Paul had been talking with the sheriff and everyone's families. No one slept that night. But we did it. We were safe and without injury (except a sore knee and bruised ego). It took Paul about a week to calm down and not be mad at me for worrying him half to death. We were all exhausted and managed to laugh over our burgers and beers at the trailhead. We drove back to LA that day and we were bonded forever. We laugh and shudder every time someone talks about those 36 hours. I tend to only reminisce about the good parts. But now I've made myself write this, so I will have no choice but to remember the hard parts too. The parts that keep me humble and make me stronger. We made a lot of dumb choices on that mountain, but we made some smart ones too. People ask me if I'd every do it again, and the answer is, I would. Because I'm a glutton for punishment and an idiot for everything else.