Sierra Nevada, California · 14 September 2018
Mount WhitneyExcerpts from my adventure journal
Begin the hike39 selected photographs / 9 journal passages
Phase 1 · 14 September 2018
From darkness into first light
11 photographs
First light above the ridge
A narrow band of orange dawn glows between the dark ridges above the Mount Whitney Trail.
14 September 2018
02:45 — Into the dark
That morning, after breakfast, I set off at 02:45. It was pitch-dark: apart from the star-filled sky, everything was utterly, completely black.
Headlamp on, I make straight for the gateway to the trail up Mount Whitney (4,421 metres). I am expecting 36 kilometres, with 1,859 metres of climbing and another 1,859 metres of descent. Fortunately, the altitude-sickness symptoms that appeared the previous day—thankfully only a headache and lethargy—have vanished overnight. They will probably return almost 2,000 metres higher up.
None of that stops me from cheerfully bounding up one zigzagging bend after another—“switchbacks”, as they are called here. I had planned to tag along with a group rather than wander through the dark forest entirely alone, but at first I cannot find one. Distracted by the wealth of stars and the almost familiar scent of the pine forest I still cannot see, I ignore the headlamps of like-minded adventurers flashing between the trunks at distances that are hard to judge.
Granite at dawn
The first pale light reveals jagged granite walls above a foreground of shattered rock.
A lake beneath the cliffs
A dark alpine lake rests below steep granite cliffs, with lingering snow in the shaded gullies.
14 September 2018
Company on the trail
After twenty minutes I catch up with the first group, but our walking paces do not match. Other faint glimmers give me hope of finding company at my own pace.
A little later I meet two fellow hikers.
At first they want to let me pass, but I like their brisk yet sensible pace, so I persistently attach myself to the two of them. I think they found it quite funny.
Together we leave the pine forest, and the landscape turns into something that, in the dark, seems rather like a swampy jungle. Tree trunks and large stones serve as bridges over the water. At least, that is how it seemed to me; with hindsight, perhaps it was not quite a jungle after all.
Occasional waterfalls, which we can locate mainly by their splashing, give us a chance to refill our water supplies. Everyone here uses filters.
Here and there, the starry sky is reflected in still pools.
Towards the granite spires
Small hikers follow the rocky path beneath the towering granite spires of the upper basin.
Stone spires ahead
A serrated wall of granite rises above slabs and scattered boulders on the upper trail.
Clouds at first light
Pink and orange clouds brighten the sky above the dark, rocky basin.
Camp beside the lake
An orange tent stands among granite boulders beside an alpine lake under a sky streaked with pink.
A sky of orange
Orange dawn clouds stretch over the lake and its surrounding granite slopes.
Granite in the sunrise
The rising sun turns the jagged granite spires a vivid orange above the still-shadowed scree.
Morning reaches the basin
Warm light reaches the left-hand cliffs while a small lake and the rocky basin below remain in shade.
Lakes below the switchbacks
Two alpine lakes lie among the bare granite ridges, beneath streaks of morning cloud.
Phase 2 · 14 September 2018
The 99 Switchbacks
6 photographs
14 September 2018
First light on the switchbacks
Around 05:00 we leave the vegetation behind, unfortunately without my having seen much of it. We enter a kingdom of rock, its points and corners reaching to the horizon and piling up there until they touch the sky.
Of course, we could not make any of this out at 05:00. Only around 06:00, to our delight and the stars' dismay, does the first wafer-thin strip of an orange sunrise appear at the edge of the sky. Its deep nocturnal black slowly gives way to a simple blue.
Fortunately, the ascent is on the eastern side of the massif. Gradually, the rising sun bathes all its splendour in that same glowing orange and, for the first time today, reveals the jagged summit we have set out to climb. Meanwhile, freezing at around 3,600 metres, we drag ourselves up the rough, rocky zigzags. This section of the Mount Whitney Trail is called the 99 Switchbacks. We watch the pale mountains, now full of colour, reflected in the many deep-blue, undoubtedly icy mountain lakes. The summer waterfalls now drape the slopes in cold-white, reflective robes of icicles. Only a few patches of what I take to be watermelon snow have survived the summer heat in the shadow of the monumental rocks.
It is beautiful and tiring, fascinating and exhausting.
I think a headache is coming on, but the feeling soon passes. My hat is lovely and warm; my gloves, rather less so.
The first blister announces itself on my right heel. Ouch. That has never happened to me before.
But I am optimistic. Only four more hours to the summit.
Snow on the upper trail
Compacted snow fills a narrow passage between granite boulders beneath a sunlit cliff.
A curtain of ice
Long icicles hang from ledges in the granite, with thin sheets of ice coating the rock below.
Across the rocky basin
A stony trail winds through the bare upper basin, enclosed by steep granite walls and broken ridges.
Entering Sequoia National Park
The sign at Trail Crest marks the entrance to Sequoia National Park above a basin of lakes and sheer cliffs.
Beyond the granite wall
Deeply cleft cliffs frame distant Sierra Nevada ridges, with dark bands of forest in the basins between.
Lakes beyond Trail Crest
Alpine lakes reflect a sheer granite wall on the western side of the crest, with ridge after ridge stretching into the distance.
Phase 3 · 14 September 2018
Across the crest to the summit
10 photographs
14 September 2018
Across the crest
After what feels like an eternity, the ninety-nine switchbacks finally end, only to usher in the next one. The trail crosses a pass onto the shaded side of the mountain, which looks less precipitous. Before me stretches an endless panorama of rock faces and snow-covered mountains. Apparently, I am now in Sequoia National Park.
Naturally, the shaded side also brings something I had previously thought impossible: even colder conditions, with vicious gusts tearing across the sloping field of enormous boulders. Two extra jackets and a hood keep me just warm enough to tackle what is, as mentioned, yet another endless path across the shaded rocks. Through narrow corridors between towering rock formations, and past a few bright gaps offering a view back towards the way I came, I fight my way towards the summit. At this altitude's low atmospheric pressure, everything takes several times as much effort. I feel my hands swelling a little.
Along the shaded crest
A jagged granite tower rises beside the shaded summit route, overlooking distant ridges and small alpine lakes.
The path between the towers
The narrow summit trail crosses a steep field of broken granite beneath sharp rock towers.
A lake through the rock towers
A long alpine lake appears between jagged foreground towers and the pale cliff wall beyond.
Through a gap in the crest
A narrow gap between the granite towers opens a view down the eastern slopes towards the broad valley below.
Forest far below
Dark forests fill the valleys beneath pale Sierra Nevada ridges, seen across a foreground of granite slabs.
14 September 2018
The summit
To my surprise, there is a hut on the summit. It is only a completely empty shelter, but I wonder who would go to the trouble of building it at the highest point in the contiguous United States of all places. The air is thin, and the temperature on my arrival is just −9°C. It does not help that the sun suddenly takes pity and decides to have a look at the other side of the ridge too.
I am freezing, but proud to have reached the summit.
At 10:00 I notice that my two companions set off back down several minutes ago. The gusts are growing stronger.
A plateau above the cliffs
A broad, rubble-covered plateau ends in sheer cliffs, with successive mountain ridges beneath a low bank of cloud.
Small lakes, immense cliffs
Small blue-green lakes punctuate the pale rocky basin below a towering granite cliff near the summit.
A record at the summit
A National Park Service plaque on Mount Whitney commemorates the trail's completion in 1930.
From the high lake to the valley
A deep blue-green lake lies beneath pale granite cliffs, with the broad valley floor and distant ranges beyond.
The western panorama
A wide view across alpine lakes, sheer granite walls and distant forested basins on the western side of the crest.
Phase 4 · 14 September 2018
The long way down
9 photographs
Blue water in a stone basin
A chain of dark blue and turquoise lakes lies in the broad granite basin below the crest.
A window towards the lakes
The shaded rock towers beside the trail open onto sunlit cliffs and a long turquoise lake far below.
An amphitheatre of granite
A broad panorama takes in deep blue lakes, steep cliffs and pale slopes stretching towards the distant Sierra Nevada.
Green among the boulders
A narrow stream descends between granite boulders, bordered by low green shrubs beneath the rock walls.
14 September 2018
Out of the freezer
Light on my feet, I bound downhill and, as always, easily catch up with my two companions. The descent to the pass is very pleasant and astonishingly quick. The 99 Switchbacks already feel a little longer. At last I can take off all my jackets, my hat and my gloves. The sun is roasting everything in sight, but after our spell in the freezer we are all glad of it.
The next rocky section feels longer still. Longer than anything so far, in fact. My battered feet stumble aimlessly over scree and sand. There is little comfort in the fact that the blisters no longer hurt: everything else, from my big toes to my thighs, hurts now.
We are positively euphoric at the sight of the first trees, and soon find ourselves back in the jungle, which turns out to be nothing more than very tall, swampy scrub. Discovering the features of these landscapes—the scrub and then the pine forest—that I could not see earlier distracts me from my exhaustion.
The trees return
Scattered conifers return among the granite slabs as the view opens down the valley towards the dry lowlands.
A lake at the tree line
A dark green lake lies below a steep granite wall, edged by conifers and patches of low vegetation.
Trees beneath the granite wall
A weathered tree trunk and dark conifers frame the pale granite wall above a small green meadow.
14 September 2018
Left, right, left, right
After nine hours of walking I am back in the pine forest. After ten, I am already bored with it again. Everything hurts: my eyes, my head, the places where my pack presses against my shoulders and hips, and of course pretty much everything below that. I am tired, exhausted, half-dead. The sun tortures me with every ray. I have had enough.
Hope rises as I think I spot Whitney Portal nearby. Not even close. Switchbacks and junctions I cannot remember from the way up lead painfully slowly towards the valley.
Left, right, left, right, left, right. Ouch, I have stubbed my foot. Again. And another switchback.
Another hour passes. Left, right, left, right, left, right.
A waterfall among the trees
A waterfall slips over dark granite ledges among conifers and scattered boulders.
Green below the cliffs
Low shrubs and conifers fill the floor of a basin beneath a sweeping pale granite cliff.
Phase 5 · 14 September 2018
Whitney Portal, at last
3 photographs
14 September 2018
I should not have looked
Ping.
For the first time since the summit, my phone has a signal. I quickly check how much farther it is to Whitney Portal.
I should not have looked.
Frustrated, I pick up my pace and shuffle on along the sandy path in what feels like the wrong direction.
Another hour passes. I am thirsty, but there are few streams left here, and they smell suspiciously of urine.
Every cell in my body keeps reminding me of the pain tormenting me.
Thirty-five minutes later, after almost exactly twelve hours and thirty-five minutes, I stagger through the portal, utterly drained. Two rangers greet me. How can they possibly be so cheerful?
A simple stream crossing
A narrow timber footbridge crosses a clear stream on the wooded lower trail.
Blue lake above the valley
A small blue lake nestles among conifers between steep granite slopes, with the broad valley visible beyond.
Footbridges through the greenery
Narrow timber bridges carry the trail over a stream bordered by grasses, shrubs and conifers.
14 September 2018
The destination is bed
I collapse into bed. Luckily, it is parked just around the corner.
The verdict: Everything hurts. The journey is the destination, unless the destination is bed.
Was it worth it? Yes!