Climbing Mt Whitney, CA

When we moved to SoCal, we knew we wanted to climb Mt. Whitney, 14,505, the highest peak in the continental US. It’s not a technical mountain, and in the summer time it’s truly a walk-up that anyone who is relatively fit can do. All the same, it’s big, and in our new ‘hood. There’s a permit lottery once a year, and we applied way back in February before we moved, but unfortunately weren't winners for any of the 10 dates we submitted for. On our way back from Death Valley, we noted how little snow there was compared to all the pictures of normal year and it occurred to me that maybe, just maybe the road to Whitney would actually be open before permit season this year. It turned out the very next weekend was the last one before permit season started, and the road was indeed open. So, despite a cold, mediocre weather forecast, and traveling for work the week before, etc we drove north early on Saturday morning.

The trail starts at Whitney portal at 8,360 feet, and the first day you hike 6 miles to high camp at 12,000ft. The second day gains 2,500 but involves another 5 miles to the summit, making it a 16 mile day, which is pretty brutal. Friday night had been extremely windy and we heard horror stories from all the climbers coming down on Saturday (who hadn't even attempted the summit). We had beautiful weather climbing up to high camp though, sunny and without wind. Having never been in the Sierras before, we were stunned by all the rocky, craggy, remote beauty.Could such a thing exist in southern California?

We were late to camp, so didn't get a very protected spot, but set up, had dinner, and tucked in around 8pm hoping for the best. And then…..the wind started. And picked up. And was hitting the wide side of our tent. And hitting me with the side of the tent. We ‘slept’ until 2am at which point a huge gust of wind came and blew the side of the tent so hard it was basically laying down on both me an Matt. Matt opened the door to re-stake the fly when suddenly I heard a ‘rrrriiiiiip’. The wind had snapped one of the tent poles, which stabbed through the fly and ripped it open. Then the snow started coming in tent through the hole. We knew it was all downhill from there. 2am, pitch black, we got up and started packing all our gear. We decided that even if it were possible to summit that day, it would be miserable and we weren't interested. The wind had blown fresh snow from the night before over all of the trail and it took us 90 minutes of wandering before we found a solid lead on where the trail down from camp went. Cold, a bit nerve wracking, it was blowing hard but finally starting to get light.

After dropping down a bit, the wind quickly died down, the sun came up, and we had a gorgeous hike down. You win some, and you lose some I guess. We had a much-needed warm breakfast in Lone Pine and made our way home. Fingers crossed for permits next year.