Mount Whitney is the superlative peak by height in the mainland ("lower-48") United States: no mountain outside of Alaska is higher than Mount Whitney's 14,495 (or so) feet above sea level. A good trail goes from Whitney Portal at the end of the road (elevation about 8,000 feet) all the way to the summit, 11 miles and about 6,500 vertical feet later. Lots of people do the hike in a single day but it is a huge hike, considering the distance and time at elevation. When I got the idea to try Whitney into my head I knew better than to try it in a single day. It would be a back-pack trip for us. Originally I planned this hike with my college roommate Vic (Rainier '97) but he had to back out about a month beforehand. By that time we had a team together: six of us total, all friends at the University of California, Riverside: Kelly Meyers, Jennifer Marchant, Ed Clayton, Ernie Lo and Jacco from the Netherlands. I had just graduated with my Master's degree in Mathematics in June of 1992, and by the end of the summer I would be moved in to my new home in Arizona, so this hike served as a nice ending highlight of my days living in California.

None of us had ever climbed such a big peak before, although all of us had some basic outdoors experience in hiking, backpacking and/or hunting. We left Riverside on the 16th of July and drove the three hours up highway US-395 to Lone Pine, arriving around midnight. Kelly, Jennifer, Ed and Jacco set up camp at a campground just outside of town, while Ernie and I went back to Lone Pine in order to get a spot in line in front of the Rangers Station to claim unused backcountry permits (this policy has since changed). To our chagrin, we discovered a small line already forming around 1 a.m., so we had no choice but to join in. We spent the rest of the night sitting in our spots, talking with other hopefuls, and getting very little actual sleep. Our plan worked well, as we were near the front of the line when the office opened up; perhaps 50 people altogether were in line now. We secured our permits, picked up the others and headed up to Whitney Portal to start our hike.

We didn't get started hiking until 9 a.m., albeit in very good conditions. This is a popular trail and a very well maintained one as well. We made pretty good time, but burdened with a heavy pack, tired from a lack of sleep and also just generally new at this sort of thing, I lagged pretty badly toward the end of the day. Our route took us from verdant old-growth forest, bubbling streams, wide grassy meadows and ferns, to the higher, starker, scrubbier stuff until eventually we were above tree-line and on the upper mountain at about the 12,000-foot level. This was my new record for elevation, one I would presumably break tomorrow. I'll never forget the sight of seeing a tree with four parallel gouges in its bark, starting from about 8 feet high level and ending about 3 feet high off the ground level. The gouges were easily 2 inches deep. That's what a bear can do! We strung out somewhat on the final couple miles to high camp; Kelly and I were the last to arrive to camp, which we did so about 3 in the afternoon. I pitched the tent and immediately crawled into my bag for a desperately-needed nap. When I awoke for dinner a couple hours later, I had a splitting headache, I'm sure due to the altitude, lack of sleep, thirst and hunger. We ate a spaghetti meal and went back to sleep for the next day's summit attempt. That night, I slept out of exhaustion, in spite of my headache. I didn't feel good and I had doubts about my readiness for the next day's summit bid. Some guy actually brought a trumpet with him to play at high camp. He was good but it didn't help trying to sleep.

When I awoke the next morning I felt surprisingly good, my headache having disappeared. We gathered, ate breakfast and got our stuff in order for the summit bid, leaving camp around 8 a.m. The trail leaves camp and soon comes upon the massive headwall, with the trail switchbacking up this section in roughly 100 actual switchbacks, a tedious section but one that went reasonably well. Large snow patches still lay across the route but past hikers had beaten in a good path through the mush, and our footing was good. In maybe an hour or so we'd finally reached the range crest at about 13,000 feet elevation. We regrouped, rested and then got moving, now following the trail as it poked north along the crest toward the summit, which was not visible at this point due to some foreground peaks and rocks. The Sequoia National Park boundary is crossed here, marked by a small sign. Interesting.

The trail makes one drop of about 300 feet not long after reaching the ridge, then works its way north and soon comes to a point where the summit is now visible again. Again, our team strung out, with me dropping to fifth out our six team members (Kelly was behind me). The going here was slow but straightforward. There were dozens of people on the trail, strung out at various speeds, so it felt good to know I wasn't the slowest of them all. The summit ahead, plainly visible, was a strong motivation to keep moving forward. I started to lag again for the last half-mile or so and didn't feel too great when I finally did arrive to the summit a bit after noon, although I was admittedly very happy to be there. Ed, Jacco, Ernie and Jennifer were all there already, taking it easy. I took some photos and signed in the register nearby the stone shelter building. The view down to the East was amazing - nearly 10,000 feet of vertical relief on down to the Owens Valley, with the town of Lone Pine a spot of green against the tan backdrop of the desert floor. But ultimately I was feeling pretty rotten and started the hike down, maybe having spent just 5 minutes up top, but just then Kelly arrived, so I returned to the top so all six of us could celebrate and get a team summit photo. Then, I started down, for real. The hike back went fine. I felt much better once I'd dropped about 500 feet, and I took it slow and steady. The part where I had to regain the 300 feet wasn't fond in my memory. Most people were hiking down but there were a few people hiking up, having started their day from Whitney Portal that morning. I arrived back at camp at 4 p.m. ahead of everyone, and crashed again for about two hours; when I awoke everyone was back and I could hear the hiss sound of the stove boiling some water for more pasta. Another evening of celebration, then another night of deep sleep.

We hiked out the next morning without incident, arriving back to the portal about noon. After a weekend of eating nothing but gorp and pasta, I was desperate for something remotely tasty. We convoyed down into Lone Pine and had a celebratory meal at one of their restaurants, then drove on home to Southern California. The climb had been a success, and I had learned a lot of lessons as well. Lesson one: wear sun screen. I had not bothered, and I ended up with the worst sunburn I have ever had, in some areas it had blistered - a true stage-2 burn. That stayed with me for a couple weeks. I also got a bit of tummy trouble, probably from not treating my water carefully enough. The hike was grueling but doable, and I learned to mentally prepare myself a little better for the unavoidable aspect of climbing - the sometimes-tedious long distance hiking one must do to achieve the objective. I was thrilled to have summitted California's highest mountain, and was well aware it was the highest point in the United States outside of Alaska. Knowing I would be moving to Arizona in less than a month, I momentarily considered climbing that state's highpoint, whatever it was, and maybe embark on a clever new hobby all thought up by myself. I did try Humphreys Peak in 1993 (I failed) but after summitting Texas' Guadalupe Peak that same summer, I became a devoted highpointing geek. I have never looked back, for better or for worse.