On, Mt. Whitney

VOLATILITY IS DEFINED AS LIABLE TO CHANGE RAPIDLY & UNPREDICTABLY.

This best describes our trek through the Sierra Nevada mountain range. Starlit skies, desert peaks, even Mars on Earth, we were presented with a new understanding of nature and its simplicity. None of the days we walked could escape the swings in elevation, temperature, wind, botany, and wildlife diversity that the area emits. We were asked to overcome the effects of low oxygen, high winds, altitude sickness, marmot tent carnage, and low moral before we’d reach our summit. Fun side note, but Mount Whitney also lies only 76 miles from the lowest point in North America at 282 feet below sea level in Death Valley National Park.

THE CLIMB.

Getting to Mount Whitney means you must climb from sea level in San Francisco to summit at 14,496.881 feet. About all we did over the course of this trip involved big climbs and big descents — your cars, knees, and lungs will be suffer. Every few hundred feet up increases frequency of stops, and loss in control. It’s scary at times. Even with two days of acclimation, we found ourselves in a constant state of gasping for air as we crawled along. “Slow down guys. Let’s take our time and rest often. We’ll enjoy this all so much more if we do.”

THE SUMMIT.

As we walked the final mile of this hike, a combination of exhaustion and joy took ahold. Another half mile passed, and we could now see the summit shelter, just dangling in front of us like a treat we couldn’t reach. There’s still a tough hour hike in front of us before we’re worth for treasure. All we wanted was to be there, looking down, but I quickly reminded about the importance in the journey rather than the destination. Days leading up to now have left us deprived of O2, scorched with sunburns and blisters all over, and hazily walking. I kept wondering why anyone would ask for such a beating, then, the answer — we’d run out of trail and were at the summit. Our packs and poles dropped to the ground, and our moods swung from pain-struck to awe-amazed. We’d finally completed it, the highest point in the continental United States. All family, friends, and civilizations were below.

A FAREWELL.

We woke up at 5AM on our last day for final descent, and were greeted by an unexplainable sunrise. Full of tired moans and achy bones, none of it mattered as we looked out through our sleepy eyes. “It’s time to break camp and get on the trail”, and it was time to get back to work. At this point, I think we were all ready to be down from this place, home, showered, and enjoying cold beers. Too bad for us, we still had about a thirteen hour travel day ahead of us, and the sprint down began. With few stops, and no real breakfast, we made it down the mountain in just under three hours which had to be a record in my opinion. We were done. Thirsty and ready to eat just about anything, we rushed to the camp store and ordered put a few 14 inch pancakes before heading back. I know understand the term “with a cherry on top”. This was the perfect end.