Feeling Trapped Amongst Epic Beauty

It was Tuesday afternoon and getting way to late of a start, we packed out Eric's small Mazda with mountain gear and headed North. We arrived at the town at the foot of the tallest mountain in the lower 48 states around dusk and found a store where we could rent crampons (spikes for the ice and snow you attach to your boots). We began our ascent to climb Mt. Whitney around 8:30pm. Not your typical start time. As we gained elevation, the temperature plummeted. Sandy, warm beaches just days before were quickly forgotten as we began to loose feeling in our finger tips in the 20 degree air. The cold was biting. We set up camp after mid-night as we struggled to make use of our fingers. Like sardines, we crammed into the tent and decided we would start the summit climb in a few hours. We didn't really get any sleep and tried to rest unsuccessfully till around 3am.

With improper rest, we loaded our packs and set up the long, laborious, freezing climb. The hours before dawn were peaceful. Peaceful the way ice is, beautiful but harsh. The climbing got more intense around dawn as we hit "99 Switchbacks". With crampons on our boots, and hiking poles in our hands, we went up the perilous switchbacks. The view was of untold beauty. From here on up, the the world looked as if it was a snow globe, perfect and magical. As the view got better and better, the lack of sleep and tough climb in snow and ice, weighed us down more and more. The going was slow. Our packs felt as if they were gaining weight and as if our feet were dragging chains.

We reached the ridge line at around 13,000+ft and had only several more miles and less than 2,000+ft to climb. In deep snow, every step along the steep slopes was a step that had to be placed carefully. For hours more we took every step with great patience so not to end our days short. The summit seemed to continually linger off too far in the distance. Around 3pm we collapsed our cold, spent bodies upon the highest point in the contiguous United States. We felt victorious...momentarily. With all energy sapped from our bodies, we knew we had a terribly long way back. We had already been hiking 11 hours and we didn't know how it would be possible. But there was no choice. We couldn't stay there.

Back along the same cliffs, buried in white, begging to take our lives, we felt emotions hard to put into words. It seemed impossible to make it. Eric even considered leaving all his camera gear and pack on the mountain. Possessions are so inconsequential when life is being played with. The "99 Switchbacks" was difficult to navigate as the sun sunk behind the mighty mountains. With still miles to go, the world around us grew black. Over slippery ice, we struggled to follow the trail back. Ice doesn't leave great foot prints to follow. At some point, we began to question if we were on the right trail. It's late and dark, we are more exhausted than ever, its freezing, and we feel utterly trapped. After 3 hours of tracking crampon spike prints in ice and looking over multiple tracks, we realized the trail was right upon us. Fighting hallucinations from lack of sleep, we pressed on down the trail and tried to keep from collapsing.

We stumbled into our camp around 1am. We had been hiking 21 hours on no sleep the day before. I have never been so glad to see my tent. We slept in the next day as much as we could. With weak legs we finished the last few miles around mid day. Driving back to the town we found a diner and indulged in the world's largest and most unhealthy burgers.