James Burleigh
Well-known member
The tallest mountain in the lower 48 states, at 14,496 feet, is right here in California, part of the Sierra Nevada range, near Death Valley. My best friend, Jim, had climbed Whitney once before with his dad when he was a young man. This year he was going to climb it again with his dad, but then his dad passed away suddenly. So he invited me along; we had backpacked the Sierras together since 1972. Jim would still make the hike with his dad, though: he brought his dad's ashes to leave at the summit.
From our hike-in point near Lone Pine, Calif., which was at 6,000 feet, we ascended 8,000 feet to the summit, hiking 22 miles round trip. The elevation change was the equivalent of climbing eight stacked 100-story buildings, albeit with very little oxygen.
We took two days: The first day, Sunday, we hiked six hours to a base camp above the tree line at 12,000 feet. Then on Monday morning before dawn, with just day packs, we climbed the final 2,000 feet to the summit. When we got back to base camp we packed our gear and hiked out the four hours to the car, emerging after dark, having hiked the last hour or so by flashlight.
I had no idea what I was getting into when I accepted Jim’s offer to climb Whitney, but it was for me a tremendous accomplishment. Not just anyone can do this. It takes physical and mental stamina. You have to push yourself to keep going, even though you’re exhausted, you can't breath, and you're in a lot of pain.
I had been working out for several weeks in anticipation, but still was only just marginally in shape for the challenge. The strain on legs, knees, and feet was severe, and the day after we hiked out, we could hardly walk. This was without question the most physically demanding activity I have ever done in my life.
Some Pics:
Our motel room in Lone Pine. Hollywood westerns were filmed in this area. John Wayne stayed at this motel. In that bed in fact. I hope he liked the decor.
Out the window of our motel we could see our target: Mt. Whitney, the tallest mountain in the lower U.S. at 14,496 feet.
Departure Sunday morning. Legs and feet still intact.
At the lower elevations there was still lots of green and water.
Base camp. A lot like walking on the moon. No green anywhere to be seen. There would also be no water beyond this point, so we had to carry all we would need to the summit.
Sunday morning, Summit day. We woke up at 5:15 and were on the trail by 6:15, heading toward the summit. It would take us 7 hours to get from base camp to the summit and back to base camp.
By the time the sun came up on Monday morning, summit day, we were already a couple of hours on the trail.
You didn't want to lose your balance on the trail.
Approaching the pass that would take us to the back side of the peaks.
I named this lake Blue Meanie Lake, for obvious reasons.
Hiking the trail along the backside of the peaks toward Whitney. It was all broken rock and shale. Very hard on the legs and feet.
The drops were impressive.
Approaching the summit. The air was thin, so that it required all my effort just to place one boot in front of the other and take baby steps. After every three steps I would have to stop to catch my breath so that my lungs could gather the oxygen my heart was demanding.
At the summit: 14,496 feet.
From our hike-in point near Lone Pine, Calif., which was at 6,000 feet, we ascended 8,000 feet to the summit, hiking 22 miles round trip. The elevation change was the equivalent of climbing eight stacked 100-story buildings, albeit with very little oxygen.
We took two days: The first day, Sunday, we hiked six hours to a base camp above the tree line at 12,000 feet. Then on Monday morning before dawn, with just day packs, we climbed the final 2,000 feet to the summit. When we got back to base camp we packed our gear and hiked out the four hours to the car, emerging after dark, having hiked the last hour or so by flashlight.
I had no idea what I was getting into when I accepted Jim’s offer to climb Whitney, but it was for me a tremendous accomplishment. Not just anyone can do this. It takes physical and mental stamina. You have to push yourself to keep going, even though you’re exhausted, you can't breath, and you're in a lot of pain.
I had been working out for several weeks in anticipation, but still was only just marginally in shape for the challenge. The strain on legs, knees, and feet was severe, and the day after we hiked out, we could hardly walk. This was without question the most physically demanding activity I have ever done in my life.
Some Pics:
Our motel room in Lone Pine. Hollywood westerns were filmed in this area. John Wayne stayed at this motel. In that bed in fact. I hope he liked the decor.
Out the window of our motel we could see our target: Mt. Whitney, the tallest mountain in the lower U.S. at 14,496 feet.
Departure Sunday morning. Legs and feet still intact.
At the lower elevations there was still lots of green and water.
Base camp. A lot like walking on the moon. No green anywhere to be seen. There would also be no water beyond this point, so we had to carry all we would need to the summit.
Sunday morning, Summit day. We woke up at 5:15 and were on the trail by 6:15, heading toward the summit. It would take us 7 hours to get from base camp to the summit and back to base camp.
By the time the sun came up on Monday morning, summit day, we were already a couple of hours on the trail.
You didn't want to lose your balance on the trail.
Approaching the pass that would take us to the back side of the peaks.
I named this lake Blue Meanie Lake, for obvious reasons.
Hiking the trail along the backside of the peaks toward Whitney. It was all broken rock and shale. Very hard on the legs and feet.
The drops were impressive.
Approaching the summit. The air was thin, so that it required all my effort just to place one boot in front of the other and take baby steps. After every three steps I would have to stop to catch my breath so that my lungs could gather the oxygen my heart was demanding.
At the summit: 14,496 feet.
