Coastline Pilot/LA TIMES

13 August 2004

 

Chasing the Muse

Catharine Cooper

 

“Are you crazy?!” my father exclaims when I tell him I’m off to climb Mt. Whitney again.  “You did that last year.”

 

I assure him that I’m not crazy, and yes, I did climb Whitney last year, but Lynn and James they have a permit for four and I love to hike.  How could I refuse?

 

Climbing Whitney means training, i.e., getting in shape.  We start with long hikes in our local chaparral, increasing miles, and eventually weight.  Adding Mt. Baldy to the mix provides the lungs with the practice of functioning at altitude.

 

The Mt. Whitney trail is the most heavily traveled in all of the NPS.  The annual lottery for the 60 per day allocated hiker slots fills within two weeks.  There are several possible routes to the top, but the most common is straight up from Whitney Portal.  Some choose to do the trip as a day hike, a brutal x-games kind of approach; others, like myself, are more interested in the journey, and so spread the distance and climb over two or three days with a backpacking/camping stop in the middle.

 

We’ve chosen, as we did last year, to take the trip in several segments.  First stop, Bishop, where we move our lungs from their heavy sea-level laden state to an easy 4000’.  Chinese food and a bit of last minute shopping fill the hours.  Then it’s off to Whitney Portal and walk-in campground, where we pitch our tents and enjoy the antics of a black bear fishing in the river.

 

Same bear (likely), wakes us that evening rummaging through Steve’s pack, which is empty of all food stuffs, except the bear canister.  James leaps out of his tent to shoo the bear away, and we decide to sleepily lock the backpacks into the food lockers near the parking lot.  Damage report:  bag intact, two puncture holes in ziplocks holding clothes.

 

Morning coffee and a slug of oatmeal start the day.  We don heavy packs (what in the world can possibly be in there – except the weighty bear canister), and set out up the trail.  We will pass and be passed by many hikers, including those on a short day outing to Lone Pine Lake. 

 

Camaraderie on the trail and in the camps is common. Fathers coax young sons.  Friends jovially encourage each other up the mountain. Mothers, fathers, couples, foreigners, old, young, fit and not so, flesh out a cross-section of hikers sharing the same goal.

 

The Whitney trail has dis-affectionately been called a freeway, and certainly, this is not a trip of solace and tranquility, but it is the road to the top, and the adventure is a popular one.  60% of those who start the hike never make the summit.

 

We pitch our tents at Trail Camp, a wide basin above tree line at 12,000’.  A small lake provides water, which we pump and filter, and solar latrines are thankfully downwind.   Camp is noisy, and sleep is difficult.  Altitude headaches are relieved by copious amounts of Ibuprofin.  In the cold crisp 30° morning air, we do not linger.  97 switchbacks, 5 miles and 2,496’ elevation gain loom before our quest for the summit.

 

Slowly, we make Trail Crest and quickly layer on wind pants, jackets and hats.  At 13,500’ winds rapidly cut the temperature of soft skin.   James sets the pace for the last two miles, while we reflect on the glorious view of the Sierra backcountry, which spreads out to the west.

 

As we approach the summit, sighs of joy shouts of laughter echo down steep slopes. We have climbed steadily, struggled against the physiological effects of altitude, and been rewarded with a stand on the highest point in the continental United States

 

The view from the top of Mt. Whitney is breathtaking, both literally and figuratively.  The air at 14,496’ is thin, and great gasps are necessary to fill the lungs.  360° of unimpeded wonder, a refuge from the lives we left behind, spreads all around us. 

 

We sign the summit book, consume calories in the form of lunch and take photographs of one another.  A fellow traveler lends me his cell phone (yep, there’s actually service up there).  I dial my dad.  “Hey, pops!  I’m not crazy at all!  You should see the view!”

 

Catharine Cooper loves wild places. She can be reached at ccooper@cooperdesign.net.