The Idyllic Spirit: The High Sierra Trail

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.