JMT Challenges

I would like to express my eternal and truly sincere gratitude to all the hikers who lied straight into my face about how easy the passes were. Not too steep, not much snow, and whatever the snow there was it was on the flat parts only, and navigation, of course, was a breeze. Yeah! Had I known the true conditions, I might have turned around and never learned what I could actually do. 

Now I know they lied because I could easily see all the places where they had slipped and all those holes where their legs had fallen in hip deep. I have also followed their tracks, which clearly and without any doubt proved they had as much idea of which way to go as I did, which is none whatsoever. 


I just got an email from one of those liars :) who said he was sending me positive vibes while I was struggling with the most bitchy pass of them all. This was the guy, who the night before told me, "Nothing to it. You'll be just fine". Never trust a man, I say. 

This year Sierra Mountains received about 200% normal snowfall. Winter was long and snow started melting very late in the season. I am beyond words for the skills and guts of those who did that trek some weeks before I did. I am quietly hoping that if I venture out into the mountains more often, OK, much more often, I will hopefully acquire some of those skills too. 

I am a morning bird and I like to conquer passes early in the day when my legs are still fresh (later I learned that this did not matter much as I would truly not feel tired by the day's end) and before snow becomes soft. While that makes for an easier effort, since one does not sink into the snow, navigation is more difficult. Usually fewer hikers go late in the afternoon and the sun is still strong enough to melt the snow and hide the tracks. Quite often, when I was actually able to see the tracks, they would end up on a pile of rocks on one side and not emerge on the other. Fun, ha? 

On Mather Pass I followed a well preserved set of tracks to a maddening rock pile I had no choice but to get on top of. It was way too steep for me to consider going back down so the only thing to do was to do a rock scramble up. Now I am NOT a rock climber and with a heavy pack I am even less of a rock climber. I was praying the boulders were solidly wedged against each other and was grateful my son was not with me. Of course he is a lot more agile and would probably scramble to the top without a problem but I am a mother so I have to worry, right? 

And then there were steep traverses. I do not like hights  very much so having to walk on slippery snow on a steep slope with a several hundred foot drop was challenging. So I just fixed my eyes a couple of feet in front of me and slowly cursing all the time (another reason I was glad my son was not around) moved forward making sure to plant my poles as firmly as possible. My poles became my very good friends on that trek. And you know what? After every traverse like that I wanted to do more. I really need to have my head examined. 

Every time I got to the top of a pass (I am a slow learner) I had this feeling of being done. Yes, I thought, I finally made it, easy going from now on. But sure enough there were more challenges ahead. Usually on the southern side there was less snow, but less does not mean none and going down, for me, at least, is always more challenging than going up. Again, my wonderful poles saved my butt because usually by the time I got to the down section the snow was soft and slippery. Trust me, I know how slippery it was. Need I say more?

Creek crossings this year, I am told, were especially difficult. I am proud to say that I fell in only once, on the first part of the trip when a boulder decided to tip under my weight (hint, hint). It did not move when my teen hopped on it but sure enough it did when I stepped on it with outmost care. I survived and so did my camera, which got wet and in protest refused to work for two days. Other than that no creek accidents. I learned my lesson this time. I would check up and down any creek for easier crossings, I would make sure to protect all my electronic gizmos, and I would go very slowly no matter how much my feet froze. Sorry, feet.

Disclaimer: I did not cross here. I went half a mile down to a nice
ford by a meadow where water was still deep but much slower. 

Then there were countless  easy creeks that required that I changed my shoes for fording. That was getting to be actually boring. One day I counted six shoe changes while one hiker claimed that a couple of years ago there were only two crossings for which he had to take his boots off. Not fair.

Can't see much here? Well, neither could I. Notice the drop on the left...
...or maybe better don't look.

Doing Mt Whitney in the dark. 
I will get back to you on whether this was smart or not. So here I was vegging out at Guitar Lake on the west side of the mountain trying to decide when to do the climb. Some people wanted to go in the evening and spend the night near the ridge and head out before the dawn to see the sunrise. Some wanted to start in the morning and make it to the top before it got too hot and before possible afternoon storms. I, trying to be original, had to have this 'fantastic' idea of hiking by moonlight. Now true, the moon had been especially bright so why not, right? Well, had I looked at the map carefully I would have noticed that the way trail went would put it in the shadow of the mountain and I would not have much moonlight, but who checks the maps when the trail is so well visible even in the moonlight, right? Half a mile into a 5 mile hike, I was in total darkness. Out went my headlamp and for the rest of the ascent I had a tunnel vision of only what my lamp allowed me to see. For that reason I really, really detest headlamps, flashlights and so on but there was no way I could manage without it. By the time I got to the ridge the moon had set so I could not count on its light even there. Thank you, moon. I had done Mt Whitney twice, I repeat, twice before. How come I did not remember how challenging the ridge part could be? It is not steep but there are stretches of rubble, wobbling rocks with 2,000ft drop on the side of a narrow trail. Me doing that at night meant going very, very, very slow. I truly expected to see "you must be crazy" sign once I got to the top. Oh, and one more thing, but I actually think this was not that stupid, I dragged my heavy backpack with me, which made balancing more challenging. Most people, when they get to the ridge, leave their packs there hoping marmots will not chew through them. I decided not to do that because, see my memory and sanity are not gone altogether, I remembered how cold it could get on the top even when it is very hot below. I wanted to have my sleeping bag and all my clothes with me. 

One thing my friends know about me is that I am never late, actually I tend to arrive early. Of course I did not want to be late for the sunrise either so I made it to the top with plenty of time to spare freeze and of course I was the first one there. I put every piece of clothing I had with me on, and that included my rain jacket. I wrapped myself in my sleeping bag and seriously considered throwing the tent tarp on top because the wind was fierce. A young couple arrived some time later, you know, those people with still high metabolisms but without sleeping bags. High metabolism did not help them at all and they were freezing, poor souls, but timidly refused my offers to hide from the wind beneath my sleeping bag. 

Watching the sky change colors and then the small sliver of light and promise of warmth made it all worth it. My sunrise-craving but totally frozen friends scrambled off the top as soon as the sun came up. I stayed a little longer enjoying the top and newly lit world all to myself. I knew I was in heaven.

If you ever climb Mt Whitney, you may seriously consider not going down. Yeah, the trail is pretty. Yeah, there are sinful burgers at Whitney Portal Store, but going down is tedious. It is tedious, I tell you. After three weeks on the trail of going up and down, up and down, this was the most mentally challenging descent. Even stunning views did not make it easier. And even though I did remember from my previous Whitney climbs how much I disliked this part, it still did not prepare me for the suffering of the endless switchbacks and the views of the bottom of the valley that did not seem to be getting any closer. 

But then there was that yummy burger and a very long and very funny chat with Doug, the owner of the store, who is one of the nicest people around and even the never-ending descent seemed like nothing. But till this day I am really not sure if the burger was truly tasty or maybe anything would taste good after days of feasting on dehydrated food. Doug tells me his burgers are good for real. He would say that, wouldn't he? :-)

In case you don't know it by now, I loved my hike and that includes the long descent from the Whitney ridge. I would do it again anytime especially if I could have more laughs with Doug at the end.