My my. Mt. Whitney. It’s hard to believe that we really did it. As the highest mountain in the contiguous US, it’s kind of a big deal! It was the highest peak we’ve climbed on our own, and the second highest ever!
We’d had our eyes on this peak for years and had to weather a few missed connections before we finally got our climb. It was worth the wait: when we finally ascended Mt. Whitney, it was magical.
First look & initial plans
Let’s rewind for a moment to consider how all this got started. In the beginning, there was Death Valley: the first adventure Kent and I had together in the US. That was way back in February 2014. I’m sure we saw Mt. Whitney on the drive into Death Valley. But it was on that long straight road coming back that we really got to admire this massive mountain in its jagged, snow-capped glory. Kent said then that he wanted to go. I was too awestruck and inexperienced then to even really contemplate a climb as a serious possibility.
Fast forward half a decade of living abroad. We’d had been back in the interim – but never to the Eastern Sierras. We did some awesome hikes in Yosemite and Sequoia on a visit in 2015, but from the west side of the range. Back again in 2020 for the long haul, we realized we might be uniquely positioned to make this the year we climbed Mt. Whitney!
But boy, was it tough to get a permit! School and office closures during covid saw record-breaking hordes descend on parks and peaks across the country. There were just no permits available for the first few months that we considered it. We left a road trip in June 2020 thinking that we’d keep trying for permits and maybe circle back to Mt. Whitney if we got one. As you may know, instead we found ourselves back at home after barely a week.
Permit #1: Eliminated by earthquake
Irrepressible as always, I was soon back on the prowl for permits for another day. And low and behold, on June 15th, I got one!
I nabbed a permit for July 5th, 2020. We planned an exciting week away that would have us summitting White Mountain to acclimatize, and then crossing the Owens River Valley for Mt. Whitney! There might still be summer crowds, but we thought we would be able to stay safe outside. We also thought that no matter what, a Mt. Whitney summit would be wickedly worth it!
Then, on June 24th, there was an earthquake in the Eastern Sierras that closed the Mt. Whitney trails. There were rumors that it might reopen again in time for our adventure, but we were shaken. We cancelled another trip.
Permit #2: Scrapped for safety
Another opportunity presented itself during our week off at the end of November in 2020. We had countless awesome options and Whitney was poised to be chief among them! But, we were based out of Southern California then, we wound up prioritizing local attractions. Excitement was nearby, during our C2C climb of Mt. San Jacinto and in Joshua Tree NP (our 9th and final California NP!)!
There were permits available for Mt. Whitney, post lottery season. I could have snapped one up, and very nearly did…but I hesitated. I didn’t think we should just tack Mt. Whitney on to our trip like a coda. My struggles on Telescope Peak immediately after Mt. San Jacinto hint that I made the correct call.
In all honesty, I also got well and truly freaked out by reports of a missing hiker on the mountain immediately prior to our trip. So, for the second time, we opted out of Mt. Whitney. We had to satisfy ourselves for the moment with beautiful sunrises on another mountain or two.
We drove home from this trip, thinking it might be a long time before we returned to the Eastern Sierra. But it was not!
Permit #3: This one’s a go!
Something compelled me to check on permits again right after American Thanksgiving. Sure enough, there were two weeks with permits available every single day in early December 2020. Could we? Should we?
For two days I scoured the web for trail reports, studied recent photos on Whitney Zone and even reached out to local hikers. I stayed up late into the night one Wednesday re-reading this quality guide to the mountain. I became convinced that conditions were right, and that now was just the time to go!
Normally, a winter ascent of Whitney is limited to experienced mountaineers with proper equipment. But the year 2020 was not normal. It was unusually dry in the Sierra, with very little snow on the trail. The weather forecast called for calm, sunny and relatively warm weather – even at the peak! Other hikers had been to the summit recently and gave glowing trail reports. It was time.
Kent was guaranteed to think me crazy, but I figured it was worth a shot. I slept on it, then on Thursday morning, I outlined my rationale and made a YOLO argument. And he went for it! And suddenly, everything was happening.
I immediately reserved two permits for Saturday, December 5th: two days in the future and exactly five months after our original permit dates! We threw together our possessions, including all of the warmest things we owned and our scattered running/hiking supplies. It was a smooth getaway – executed within two hours of my suggestion!
The build-up drive
It wasn’t until we were in the car around noon that we remembered that it was a weekday, and we ought to be working. We had to pull over to call in! Then we carried on towards the top of California. Kent was singing songs in lieu of listening to music, and everything was just grand.
We whipped down highway 299, then it was on to the 44 highway to our old friend Lassen. We had some gorgeous twilight views of the snowcapped peak, but it was soon dark and cold outside. Luckily, the mood inside the car was a lively one: great music, lots of laughs and an atmosphere of excitement. We made it all the way to Reno where it felt late but really wasn’t.
We didn’t want to stay at a casino downtown, so we somehow wound up at a Hilton. More hilarity ensued once we got to our room, where dinner was splitting a can of beans. Kent called it room service. Classic KnC randomness: stay in a Hilton, eat a can of beans. Good times.
The next morning’s sunset painted Reno in a gorgeous light. But we had to get going: there was a second full day’s drive ahead of us. But first, the errands. We rounded up a box of vegan donuts (critical climbing fuel!) and then descended on the sports equipment shop: our primary target.
With a forecast calling for a day of -5C or below, I didn’t think we had sufficient gear. So we went buck wild at REI and bought two puffer jackets, two boxes of hand/foot warmers and a proper hiking first aid kit. Plus: I walked out with my first ever pair of hiking boots! A switch for me, but the same brand as my running shoes, so I felt born in them.
Our drive down the 395 was stunningly scenic, much as it had been on the way up less than two weeks earlier! We stopped to take in the view of Mono Lake from above at a viewpoint we hadn’t even seen. Then, racing for time, we made it to Lone Pine just before the visitor center shut for the evening. We just managed to snag some mementos and our all-important WAG bags!
We checked into another hotel: this one with a view of Mt. Whitney! But the sun set really early, and we needed to get prepared. First, we unpacked all of the gear we’d brought and bought. Then we tried our best to quickly repack it into our backpacks. I was quickly ready with Kent’s running vest and a bonus fanny pack, but Kent took longer to prepare his fastpacking kit. I suspect this is because he opted to take every single bar that he brought!
Dinner was another can of beans, protein shakes and a donut each. We tried to fall asleep early, but it was hard to relax thinking that we’d soon be climbing Mt. Whitney!
It was pretty crazy to consider the trailhead we’d never even seen. We worried a bit about if we too would struggle with altitude like so many others. I couldn’t stop thinking about the hiker who’d recently passed away after getting lost and injured. But, this was our dream. And as my new friend George would remind: it’s not truly an expedition unless you spend most of the time that you’re on it, hating that you’re on it. We managed a few hours of restless sleep before waking up just before 2 am.
In those wee hours, I ate an apple, but was unsuccessful on my first mission of the day: I DNP before we left. We geared up and hit the road under a sky sparkly with stars. The road up to Whitney Portal was paved (yay!) and in excellent condition. The Alabama Hills presented as a couple of long switchbacks, and then we were high above the valley floor. A smattering of lights marked the settlement of Lone Pine that we’d just left. Just before we reached the campground, Ravi’s gas light came on. With all of our other preparations, had we forgotten to get gas?
There was nothing we could do about it. Reaching the campground shortly after was a relief for many reasons! I was relieved to see a dozen cars and a handful of headlights bobbing up the mountainside. I’m not always good with sharing. But today was different. I wanted reassurance. I wanted to know that we weren’t the only people crazy enough to climb this mountain in winter. And, that we would have help if we ran out of gas on the way back to town.
Good things begin at 3 am
Kent parked opposite the trailhead, we loaded our footwarmers and donned our backpacks. The start felt really sudden. There wasn’t much preamble between us. There was no map to photograph and no place to sign in. So we…just started: setting off down the unseen trail, into the night and onto the mountain slope.
We started in a nice window, some distance from any hikers ahead or behind us. We were grateful for the ease of this early trail! It was double-width, which would later make for easy passing. It was also well-made: obvious even in the blackness.
The sky wasn’t ever truly pitch black. We had a bright half moon directly overhead, illuminating the peaks. And stars and wanderers spangled the sky with other pinpricks of light. Plus, there were our own headlamps and flashes that marked the positions of other hikers. This reminded me strongly of our first ever hike together on Mt. Fuji in 2011, when neither of us had a clue what we were doing, but were falling in love. I truly love running/hiking in the wee hours of night. It can be so peaceful and beautiful – there’s really nothing like it.
Kent later described the dilation of time that accompanies this dark hiking. It’s true: time just melts away. At the time, I felt like it was the kilometers that were ticking down easily underfoot. I forgot to count them, and was grateful for it. You know I love to be present in the moment.
And I was. I was there: noting the features of the trail, breathing deeply of the thin pine-scented air and focusing on climbing steadily. A guy in a t-shirt passed us and I thought Kent might be feeling jealous. I voiced my considered opinion that going slow and steady was the way to avoid altitude sickness on this venture. And then it struck me, steady was my word of the day. It perfectly described my pace, a sense of balance and the calm I wanted to preserve.
But there were moments when I felt like I was watching us from above. Were we really doing this? Had we forgotten something? Were we ready?
As it turns out, we were. Our steady pace served us well. As we got higher and higher, we maintained the same strong hiking pace and started to pass some slower hikers. I thanked our lucky stars that we were proceeding so well!
This pre-dawn time was another beautiful part of the day. Ahead, the pale stone of the mountains had started to stand out against a deep blue sky. There was a star and a planet beckoning just over the ridge. Peering behind, we could see the Owens River Valley, illuminated in the molten red of the approaching dawn.
We trekked through Outpost Camp, where one lonely tent sat amongst the trees. We wound up the side of a hidden valley that promised to be even more scenic in the light. I saw my first frozen lake and was over the (still visible!) moon about it.
The dawn and the steep bit
But the very best part was the dawn. We were on the rocky plateau that houses Trail Camp – coming into view of the Sierra Crest for the first time. I was absolutely blown away by the sheer rock faces and jagged tops. It seemed unbelievable that mere mortals – hikers rather than climbers – could ascend such a stupendous mountain. Mt. Whitney is, at first glance and always, such an absolute wonder of nature.
In reaching this moment in time, we’d also reached the coldest part of the day. For the first time, we felt the chill. I leveled up my protective gear, reaching Tier III on my hands (monster mittens plus gloves plus hot packs). As we were fumbling with our gear, the sun must have popped up above the horizon. The next time I looked up, the tips of Mt. Whitney and The Needles were painted gold.
This was truly the most beautiful thing I’d ever beheld. I was as sure of it then as I am now. It was tremendous. It stopped us in our tracks. My right hand nearly froze taking photos and my toes numbed, but it was so very worth it!
Giddy with delight (and now in daylight!), we carried on, up the 99 switchbacks. This was one of the highlights of the day for me. We were really happy and chatty with one another, eating and laughing our way up the barren, rocky slope. My confidence was bolstered by the fact that what little snow there was was sticky. The switchbacks were not nearly as vertiginous as I’d anticipated, either. I suddenly believed that we could do this thing.
And sure enough, it felt like we were only increasing our strength as we went. We passed still more hikers, and made our way into the sunlight we’d seen from below. Our moderate starting speed was helping us now, I was sure. As were the two bars I’d already downed and the sandwich I was currently smashing. I was also down about half my vest and one bottle – pretty much right on target for nutrition!
The crest!
Reaching Trail Crest was yet another highlight! The Sierra Crest is a narrow, craggy ridge at this point – it’s pretty amazing humans ever thought to build a trail here. It’s also incredibly beautiful. After having the crags in your sights during the climb, you suddenly get to see over the other side, down into the striking Sequoia National Park.
Before waxing poetic about the frozen lakes and folding fans of distant ridges, I’d just like to point something out. As we re-entered Sequoia, we achieved my mini goal of visiting/re-visiting all of California’s nine national parks in 2020! I’d been bummed that we didn’t visit on our November road trip, but now here we were: literally at it’s crest!
And so, high on life and accomplishment and very little oxygen, we proceeded along that jagged crest towards our destination. To climb over The Needles would require nerves of steel and abundant equipment, so the official trail drops down behind them. But it’s thrilling: it barely clings to the western side above a vertical drop into the vast wilderness of Sequoia. On this side of the range, there are no roads, no towns, no houses in sight. It is a truly wild place, with only the seasonally vacant John Muir Trail providing any evidence of humanity.
Words don’t do it justice, but it is so, so beautiful. Picture several frozen peaks and vertical sister ridges to admire all along the trail. This is probably the most picturesque part of the route – and certainly the most dramatic. It drops down and climbs back up, skirts plunging drop-offs and sneaks under rocky overhangs.
I’d been anticipating The Windows: the places between The Needles above perilous cliffs with views to the east. Thanks to the excellent trail construction, these did not feel nearly as terrifying as we’d been warned. In fact, they really felt like windows: openings granting us views that dazzled us all over again.
For the first time, we began to make some light conversation with fellow hikers. We kept leapfrogging a group of young guys Kent swore were marines. A sister duo tailed us for a while before making the smart decision to turn back after struggling with the altitude. All the while we continued our steady pace towards the summit hut, which we could occasionally see!
Despite my excitement for the summit, I was in no hurry. I was keenly aware that I was experiencing the peak of my life in these moments on the crest. I did not exactly want to speed them along.
The peak of Mt. Whitney!
On the final approach, when we saw the summit hut come into view again, I was nonetheless overjoyed. I almost cried and goosebumps broke out all over my body. I couldn’t believe it: we were about to summit Mt. Whitney! Of all of the amazing things to do and places to be – here we were, approaching the pinnacle!
The summit experience was glorious. Still feeling no ill effects, I stopped the watch, and we wound up lingering for an hour. At first we could only stand on the chalky boulders and exclaim. Eventually, I gathered the wherewithal to fetch the two summit signs and bring them over.
Each time I dared get a little closer to the insane edge of the east side, I had incredible new views. Another frozen lake popped into view! A ridge! A chute! Of course, we could see for miles and miles – out to the Panamint Range we’d recently visited, and deep into the heart of the Sierra Nevada. It was just wonderful.
And it didn’t even matter that it was crowded with up to a dozen people at times: everyone up top was just sharing the stoke and the sunshine. And here I should mention our continued good fortune with the weather – there was nary a cloud in the sky, and there was no wind at all. This meant that we felt the full force of the sun, and even though the actual temperature was below zero, it felt wonderfully, deliciously warm.
Another activity we indulged in was a seat on the rocks with fine summit snacks – peanut butter crackers and dates! I saw one guy eating a taco. When asked, he admitted that this moment was the peak of his life, too. A full sixty minutes or so passed in a blur of joy. I couldn’t sit still – I was constantly leaping up with snacks in my hands to go and take the views from a different angle.
Beginning the descent
At around 11:30 am, we agreed that we should get started on what would be a long descent. But we lingered, greeting newly arriving hikers and writing our names in the summit register, even checking out the little shelter. It was incredibly hard to leave, and I kept turning over my shoulder to keep my eye on the summit as we retreated.
Kent and I descended slowly, chatting with a couple of other hikers as we went. We couldn’t help but appreciate The Needles and Windows all over again, and lingered for photos.
I wondered about where King’s Canyon might be, and Alta Peak. Kent pointed out the just-out-of-view Kern Valley, nestled deep in the folds of the mountains. At one point, our hiking companion very nearly led us down into it after going astray, but we all quickly regained the higher trail. We paused again at Trail Crest, to take in the rocky pinnacles in the shifted light, and then began our descent in earnest.
While coming up the 99 switchbacks had been simple, going down was slightly more challenging. The warmed snow was a little slippery, and I found the vert I’d been looking for. But I know that going down is often harder than going up, and I was prepared for it. However, Kent had started to struggle. His bars were nearly frozen solid, his feet hurt and he was nauseous from the altitude.
I led the way, urging him on, and we proceeded slowly down. There were a few sections that gave me pause, where there was both snow and a steep cliff – but we made it by following our steady plan. The Cables is one of the best sections: looks very hardcore in photographs with the ice and chains, but actually feels extremely safe to walk on. As we zigged and zagged down the trail cut into the talus, we entered the deep shadow of the mountain. It was very early afternoon, but shade comes early on the eastern side of the tallest mountain in the lower 48!
It was exciting to reach Trail Camp and proceed into that unknown beyond. We got a better look at Consultation Lake – and some people playing on it! – and discovered the beautiful green meadows surrounding Trailside Creek. At our current crawl downhill, others were catching up to us and passing us, but we just kept on keeping on.
Truly, the forest was another highlight for me. We really hadn’t experienced it under cover of night, so it felt like we were meeting the trees for the first time. There were small, gnarled specimens that we speculated over: babies or ancient survivors? Then there were massive trees that we couldn’t believe could grow on these barren rocks, in such harsh conditions. There were stands of mixed conifers, and homogeneous stands on distant ledges sometimes caught in sunlight.
One of the things I discovered that I love about big mountains, both on the way up and again on the way down, is the series of plateaus one reaches. How different from Korean hiking! On Whitney, there are at least three such plateaus, and each one has its own unique views while obscuring other views. It’s thrilling! For a long time on the climb up, Mt. Whitney herself was hidden from view. And again on the way down, she disappeared – but neither could we see Whitney Portal!
The descent continues
Kent, along with the two hiking companions we picked up at various points, were incredibly optimistic about how far we had yet to go and how quickly we could cover that ground. But this was another feature for me: the length of the descent truly highlighting how far up we had gone, much of which had been unseen in the night.
Kent wanted to be done before dusk, but we had many, many hours to go. There was still enough light to film the log creek crossing I loved just as much on the way down as on the way up. But below Lone Pine Lake, night set in, just after we had our first views of civilization in the form of Whitney Portal Road.
We put our headlamps back on as dusk fell, lending a spare to our friendly third wheel, Tom. I led the way at a reasonably aggressive pace, as the two guys chatted away behind me. It felt like complete blackness came suddenly, even though we’d been in shadow since 2 pm.
For most of the afternoon, the air had been reasonably warm – thanks to the morning sun and its continued presence in the sky, albeit out of view. But I think I felt it sink below the horizon, cold instantly creeping into my toes and up my lightly gloved fingers. The only cure was keeping up a strong pace!
We wrapped our way back down and around, and finally, into the parking lot. The first thing Kent did was check on Ravi, who was there, safe and sound. One of my fears (and likely Kent’s too) was that a bear had broken in for the leftover donuts we forgot to stash in a bear locker.
It turned out that we never saw that first part of the trail in the light! But I desperately wanted a photograph with the trail sign, so with the aid of a number of headlamps, we made that happen for me. We escorted a very tired Tom to his vehicle, then made our way to ours. The temperature plunging, it was far too cold to stretch, so we hopped immediately inside.
Somehow still descending, on fumes
And our adventure was not totally over! Although it felt like we left Mt. Whitney pretty abruptly, the truth was, we were in a hurry to make it down to town. Whitney Portal is a 20 minute, 18 mile drive from Lone Pine – which is of course, the nearest town. And we weren’t sure how much gas we had left. Kent put Ravi in neutral and we coasted – luckily most of the route is downhill!
A certain bonkiness set it on this downhill drive. I felt puffy: swollen with all the sugary snacks I’d consumed to keep my energy up in the cold and at altitude, and now my body rebelled. I was suddenly repulsed by the sweet snacks we had in the car. A headache had set in, which I chalked up to dehydration considering how far we’d descended and how little I’d felt the altitude up above. Both Kent and I were overjoyed to roll in, at last, to the nearest petrol station.
We’d only gone .2 miles on our new tank of gas before we were pulled over by the police. Turns out, Kent hadn’t put his lights on! It could have been worse – the officer was very kind and just gave us a ‘fix it ticket’, but I think this second run-in with the law in 2020 almost pushed Kent over the brink. The running joke the whole rest of the trip home was about whether or not his lights were on.
While Kent fetched a sandwich at a local shop, I stayed outside to explode a can of beans into my eye. Refusing to wipe up the mess on the sleeve of my new puffer jacket, I resembled a crazy pirate as I drained my bean water into an outdoor trash can and then stumbled, half-blind, back into the car. My Humboldt was showing.
Having fed on some salty stuff, we decided to drive as far as we could go in order to shave some hours off Sunday’s big drive home. This was…not a resounding success. We got as far as Bishop, which is only an hour north of Lone Pine. This time, we were down for any sketchy motel: it was whatever was there when we needed it. We struggled to check in and wound up passing out in our clothes.
The afterglow
The next morning, after refreshing but messy showers, we hit the road in a beautiful pink Sierra sunrise. We spend the rest of the day on the road: driving up the 395, crossing over via Monitor Pass, hating the 99 as always, and managing to navigate the 299 in the dark.
We spent the next few days in a blur of afterglow from the alpenglow. Our Mt. Whitney adventure had been an incredible success.
Know and Go! Mt. Whitney
TRANSPORTATION
Lone Pine is delightfully out of the way from basically everywhere, that’s part of the charm. It’s a straight shot south on highway 395 from Reno, Nevada that takes five hours. From San Francisco, you need to first cross the Sierra (likely on the 120 through Yosemite) before hitting the same highway south. Plan on 6-7 hours. If coming from the south, Lone Pine is much closer: just three and a half hours from LAX using the CA-14 and the US-395 headed north.
If you’re not a California/Nevada local, you may be renting a vehicle anyways. But there is public transit, too! Check out the Eastern Sierra Transit Authority for direct access from Reno. The ESTA also serves Lancaster, north of LA: although cheap, this is a long-haul involving multiple stops and slow-going. If you flew into SFO, you’re renting a car and that’s that (unless you REALLY like trains).
From Lone Pine, you can drive, hire a taxi or ride-share the remaining 19 kilometers (12 miles) to the Whitney Portal Trailhead. Some also run/hike this (the legendary Badwater ultra in particular!), but note that it is along a narrow paved road – there is no trail option.
HIKE & RUN
There are several ways to access Mt. Whitney’s soaring summit, both from the east and from the west. The western route lies along a remote stretch of the High Sierra and John Muir Trails, deep the heart of Sequoia National Park. This is not a day-hiking route! Rather, it is an add-on to a selection of much longer backpacking treks. On the eastern side, the routes neatly cleave the casual hiker from the serious mountaineer. The Mountaineer’s Route is the most well-known of the several technical climbing routes on the mountain. There are better resources for climbing routes.
The route described above is the Mount Whitney Trail, aka the ’99 switchbacks’ or ‘mule route’. Although this route is often denigrated by mountain folk as being easy, I would argue that the sheer number of annual rescues and turnarounds make it decidedly not easy for a large number of hikers.
Depending on their speed and skill level, people run, hike or backpack Mt. Whitney. All are absolutely possible: know thyself before picking your poison. I would also like to say that all are worthwhile: a run would be a massive challenge, a one-day hike is a day of wonders, while an overnight trek would give you more time to acclimatize and appreciate the mountain.
From Whitney Portal, the Mount Whitney Trail is 38 kilometers long with 2,000 meters of gain. We trekked it at a moderate pace in just under 14 hours. All the way up to 4,421 meters (14,505 feet) above sea level: this trail offers a chance to stand at the very top of California and the lower 48 and be amazed!
But do note that you will need a permit for such a privilege. If you are trekking the route described above on the Mount Whitney Trail, you will need a permit from Inyo National Forest, available here. There’s a lottery during the high season (summer-fall), and the permits can be tough to get. Keep checking back: sometimes they do become available when another party cancels! Here is more information about the lottery and your chances of scoring a precious permit.
STAY & EAT
Lone Pine is the obvious base, with accommodation and dining options to suit every budget. It’s got incredible views (to either side: Death Valley is to the east!). If you’re coming prepared, you can also camp out at Whitney Portal for easy trailhead access!
OTHER NOTES
Mt. Whitney is a towering 4,421 meters (14,505 feet) above sea level, though rather than the sea, you’ll be appreciating a sea of fellow granite peaks from the top. It’s a massive, majestic mountain, and you should visit it once in your lifetime.
But come prepared! People do lost their footing or their way, and this mountain sees numerous rescues every climbing season. In addition to training and packing smart, be aware that altitude can affect anyone, regardless of fitness. Know the symptoms of AMS and have a plan for turning back – and stick to it. You want to have a magical day, not a miserable one – or worse.
I was so lucky to have a perfect day of Mt. Whitney magic in December 2020. I’ll treasure this adventure the rest of my days. I hope your Mt. Whitney journey is similarly wonderful.
