The High Sierra Trail - Day 9

Day 9, our final day, dawned icy cold.  We "only" had 6.5 miles to make it to Whitney Portal.  We had a fitful nights sleep with pounding altitude headaches.  Nancy said she almost woke me up to tell me we had to get off the mountain now because she was afraid she had cerebral edema.  Our eyes were also swollen to slits from the altitude.  Nancy had also developed a cold although she was in denial about that one ;-p

I opened my tent and ice flew off my vestibule flap.  The ground was covered in frost and glittered like diamonds in the sunrise.  It was so cold, we cooked our breakfast sitting in the front opening of our tents with our sleeping bags wrapped around us. 

In the space of 10 minutes, I counted 18 people walking by to start their Mt. Whitney ascent.  By the time we started walking, at least 30 people had begun to ascend.  Where did all these people come from?  Too many people, too soon!  The book says "Hordes of expectant peakbaggers may be camped in sandy sites between boulders at Trail Camp, which lends a somewhat circus-like atmosphere to the surroundings."  For once, I would say the book was accurate.

We descended and it seemed we were the only ones going down, not up.  We got these types of questions from people we passed:

Them: "Did you summit?!" 
Us: "No, but we just finished a thru-hike of the High Sierra Trail. 67 miles...."
Them:  "Oh."  (as in, Oh we have no clue what the High Sierra Trail is and you suck because you didn't summit Mt. Whitney).

Them: "Are you thru-hiking the John Muir Trail?"
Us: "No, we thru-hiked the High Sierra Trail."
Them:  "Oh." (as in, Oh we have no clue what the High Sierra Trail is and you suck because you aren't a JMT hiker).

I couldn't help but think that my efforts were being diminished.

So down, down, down we went.  We still had quite a bit of rocky granite switchbacks and step-downs to navigate. 

We passed all kinds of people attempting to summit.  Girls wearing feather boas, geared out mountaineer types, first excursion types with all new gear, old people, kids, all types of nationalities.  It was the Mt. Whitney Melting Pot.  Nancy wanted so bad to adjust the straps on this one lady's backpack.  It was huge and flopping around.  I'm sure it was hurting her shoulders.  You just never know how people will react though.  Maybe she would have been grateful for some tips or maybe not. 

I had my eye on the timberline.  If I could just make it to the trees, I kept thinking, I'm golden.  We didn't take breaks other than to sit for a minute.  I ate a few bars and some turkey jerky but no lunch.  I was trying to hold out for that hamburger and french fries!

Nancy was hauling ass down the switchbacks.  I'm sure I held her back.  Hopefully, she wasn't too annoyed at me for being so slow :-) 

I took a step on one of those step-downs and my feet flew out from under me and I went down.  Luckily, I landed nicely on my butt and Nancy gave me a hand back up.  On we continued down long sweeping switchbacks.  The temperature was rising as we descended and I believe I remember my thermometer reading close to 80 degrees.

Nancy stopped all of a sudden and looked back at me.  She yelled "I can see my car!!"  I thought I didn't hear right and screamed back "WHAT??!!"  She yelled again "I can see my car!!"  When I got to her, I threw my arms around her with unfettered joy.  It was the most unbelievable feeling to see her car.  I get chills just thinking about it now.

We had a ways to go yet but seeing the parking lot put renewed vigor in our descent.  Whenever we were ready to be done with walking throughout the week, I would say "Let's turn this mother out!"  I think Nancy thought that meant to go faster but it was mainly a motivational thing for myself, trying to bolster my resolve to "git 'er done."  It means rock some shit or kick ass. It comes from MC Hammer's song:

Strong like a lion, no denyin'
I'm in effect and you suckers are tryin'
To get with me, you can't hang
Doin' it like this I'm in with the bang
Goin' boom like thunder, and you wonder
How in the world could the Hammer be under-
-neath me, he's gonna beat me
Say yes to the master and I will teach thee

Turn this mother out

I was a student, now I'm a teacher
I was a member, now I'm a preacher
I was a worker and you was a boss
Now I'm getting' paid and you're takin' a loss
Once it's up, the others just leave
Don't bold perpetrate, MC Hammer is the feature
Step off, you pump no fear
I'm MC Hammer and I'm in here to

Turn this mother out!
Youtube: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tpqRgpkU6Qc

We turned that mother out and, finally, went around the last switchback and my heart leapt into my throat.  I couldn't believe we were finished.  We made it!  What an accomplishment!  I wish I had adequate words to describe my feelings.  Elation, exhaustion, surreal, dumbfounded, overjoyed, hungry, proud, grateful, disoriented, overwhelmed, thankful.  I threw my arms around Nancy again.

We sort of wandered around for a minute trying to get someone to take our finish picture.  We got that done and then headed to the hamburgers.  Yeah, baby!  And it was the best meal EVER!

We got Nancy's car and headed to Lone Pine.  On the way, we picked up some JMT backpackers from Belgium.  We ended up at the Dow Villa and got a "fancy" room.  We walked in and I thought, What kind of heaven is this?  It smelled SO good.  Look, there's beds!  Look, a toilet!  Look, a shower!  Shampoo!  Lotion!  Holy crap, it was good to be done.

We got showered up and we still had dirt under our nails.  My blisters were so gnarly.  Nancy said it looked like I'd grown an extra toe. She wanted to know if I wanted to walk the two blocks for dinner at Seasons.  I laughed and said again "Nancy's got jokes."  We drove the two blocks to dinner. We had salads and pinot noir and it was the best meal EVER (besides that earlier hamburger and fries).

We went back to the hotel and propped our feet up, watched two new episodes of The Big Bang Theory, and then knocked out for the cushiest most comfy sleep EVER.  We slept at 3757 feet-  LOL!

The next morning we actually walked to breakfast at Alabama Hills Café.  It was only across the street though.  Eggs, hashbrowns, and biscuit please!  I also got a ginormous cinnamon roll they had just baked and ate that for lunch.  Wish I had gotten a picture of it.

Since we now had internet access, we saw that Laurie had posted on facebook so we knew she had made it out.  We were able to get her side of the story a few days later.  She had stayed at 9-mile creek for a few days to acclimate.  When she was able to hold food down, she walked back to Crescent Meadow, got a ride to Lodgepole Visitor Center, befriended a Ranger who gave her a ride to the bus station in Three Rivers.  She then spent the next 18 hours riding trains and busses to get back home.  She had an exciting journey and immensely enjoyed herself.  Much love and respect to you, Laurie.

We drove home and that's the end...or maybe it's the beginning...however you want to look at it.

So what's next?  Even though I was cursing The John Muir Trail while I was out there, the fact is, I still have a small fire burning within me to do it.  We shall see.....

The High Sierra Trail - Day 8

I don't have any notes in my little hand-written journal for Day 8.  I was too tired, and rightly so.

We had 11 miles to do if we planned on summiting Mt. Whitney.  With the thunder, lightening, and hail, we weren't sure what to expect.  Clouds kept rolling through that looked very dark and ominous. 

Jeff bid us adieu and wished us good luck on Mt. Whitney.  Uncharacteristically , he didn't say much that morning.

We walked through sparse timber and meadows, the air fresh and clean after the storm.  Timberline Lake was a beautiful sight to behold, reflecting the west face of Mt. Whitney in its waters.  A couple of JMT hikers caught up with us here (one was a woman!).  They said they had hiked 19 miles the day before and they were going for 19 more that day to finish up.  "It's so beautiful out here," they said, "but we are ready to be done." 

They blazed on and we continued our slow trek toward Guitar Lake.  Guitar Lake was not what I expected at all.  I've seen so many pictures and read so much about it that it had reached infamous status in my brain.  It was a little disappointing.  It was really barren and kind of dirty from overuse.

I had to take a crap for the first time in the wag bag in this area.  That was an interesting experience and really gross.  Now I have added poop to my pack weight. 

When we moved further on and stopped again to eat lunch, Nancy said she saw movement back down at Guitar Lake, like someone was hanging around down there.  I speculated and said that it was probably Jeff following us.  I have no doubt, in his well-intentioned stalker way, that he was making sure we made to Mt. Whitney okay.  In my mind, he probably hung around Guitar Lake and watched us through binoculars while we climbed the west face.  We waved just in case he was watching.  Thanks, Jeff! 

We started climbing the steep, treacherous, rocky switchbacks up the west face of Mt. Whitney.  I can't believe people do this in the dark.  They get up at 2am and climb to see the sunrise from the summit.  This was seriously the hardest thing I've ever done, aside from natural childbirth.  The winds were high and buffeting us all around with our heavy packs.  The trail was granite on the right and granite drop-off to the left.  Some areas of the trail were so eroded we only had about 6 inches to walk on.  Careful foot placement!  Not really that easy to do with super fatigued legs and heavy packs.  We came to a certain point and Nancy stopped and waited for me.  She said from here on out we stick close together.  I was grateful.  We continued climbing, chipping away at Mt. Whitney.  For the first time, I saw Nancy get tired.  All of a sudden, she sat down on a rock and said she just had to rest and give her knees a break.  I didn't argue.  I sat down too and lost control of my pack.  Thank God we were in a little alcove with some extra room.  I started laughing and couldn't stop. 

We started moving again and had only been walking a few minutes when a couple of little snow flurries eddied across the wind in front of us.  Crap!  We stopped again to dig out our rain gear.  Nancy was pissed because hers was at the bottom of her backpack.  There we were, clinging to the west side of Mt. Whitney, in slow flurries, trying to stay alive, swearing right and left:  Eff Mt. Whitney, Eff the John Muir Trail, Eff this mountain, get us off here, we never want to see Mt. Whitney again!

We finally got rain coats on and, of course, the snow flurries stopped.  We continued our trudge upward.  I don't remember how long it took us.  I know we made it to the junction at 4pm.  The junction is where you can continue left for another 1.9 miles to the summit of Mt. Whitney or you can go right and continue up to Trail Crest and then down the 100 switchbacks to Trail Camp.  This was our thought process:  Thunder, lightening, and hail the night before, snow flurries and high winds on the way up, dark clouds, late in the day, and get us off this effing mountain.  So we went right to Trail Crest and climbed to 13,600 feet then started the 1600 foot descent down the 100 switchbacks on the east side of Mt. Whitney.

In the book it says " To come all this way and not take the 2-mile trail to the summit of the highest peak in the lower 48 would be unforgivable.  It's an integral part of the High Sierra Trail."  Well, thanks for that little slap across the face.

The descent to Trail Camp is a two hour period that I would like to wipe from my memory forever.  My legs were so fatigued, I could barely keep myself up.  Honestly, I have no words to describe how I felt during this section.  The views were amazing.  The barren granite cliffs hung in shrouds of clouds.  Alpine lakes glittered in the distance.    It was a contrast in pleasure and pain.

We reached Trail Camp at 6pm.  I sat on a rock and let loose a barking half laugh and half sob.  No sound like that has ever come out of me before.  We pitched our tents in the first two flat spots we saw near Consultation Lake.  Thank God we didn't have to filter water.  We had enough to last through breakfast.

We saw a bunch of big fat marmots roaming around looking for food.  One got ahold of an apple core that someone had cast aside. 

It got really cold so we got our dinners eaten and climbed into our tents.  It felt so good to lay down.  My hips and feet were screaming.  I didn't read and I didn't jot down any notes.  I just laid there and focused on the hamburger and french fries I knew I'd be having the next day.

We slept at 12,035 feet.

This is my scared face after thunder, lightening, and hail.











Timberline Lake.  I'm going to blow this one up and frame it.











Flat Stanly at Guitar Lake.  Notice he's sitting next to a piece of marmot poop.



































At Trail Crest- 13,620 feet - the highest on-trail pass in the Sierras.























Marmot