From PCT mile 767.5 to 768.2 Total: 13.1 miles 7/5
I climbed Mount Whitney from Guitar Lake and took way too many photos and videos, as always, then descended back to the lake, packed my gear, and continued hiking downhill on the John Muir Trail until it joined the Pacific Crest Trail, where I camped. All told, I had about 3000 feet to climb over the first five miles, followed by 3800 feet of descent over the final eight miles. A long day, in other words.
And that’s why I got up early, in the dark, to eat breakfast and pack up most of my heavier gear. All except the tent (which stored everything) and sleeping bag (which insulated everything). I would be “slackpacking” up the mountain, carrying only water, snacks, and the ten essentials in my backpack. My timing was good, and I was ready to start just before dawn, when there would still be plenty of light for photos. And I intended to take lots of them!
Attacking Whitney from the west was best, as the bulk of the climb would be in the cool shade of morning. I started up the trail along with a few other campers who had the same idea. I had woken up in the middle of the night and peeked outside to see multiple headlamps toiling up the switchbacks above me, but it didn’t make me want to join them. My photos of it weren’t satisfactory, so you’ll have to take my word that the bobbing lights were cool looking.
After the first set of short, fast switchbacks just above 12,000 feet, there was another major set of long ones that continued all the way to Trail Crest at 13,400 feet. The entire way was a steady, continuous plodding for me. I was breathing fairly hard, but I also felt just fine, air-wise. I felt that I would be breathing hard at that pace at any elevation. This was a good sign, and I had hopes for continued oxygenation all the way to 14,505!
Once I reached 13,000 feet elevation, I was treated to flowering Polemonium plants! These denizens of the Highest Regions of the High Sierra are truly exquisite, and quite rare. In fact, I often wonder how it is that they find soil to grow on up there in the realm of raw rock, or how they survive being frozen solid for at least half the year. Another plant that likes this region is called Alpine Gold, and there were a few of them around also. Very nice.
Eventually, I arrived at the JMT Trail Crest (there is another trail crest to the east on the way to the 97 Switchbacks and Whitney Portal) and took a short break, mostly for photos. I wasn’t feeling particularly tired, which was good. The first time I was here, back in 2018, I was having more trouble, breathing hard and resting too often due to weakness. From this point, the summit was 1.9 miles and 1100 feet away, bearing north along the steep and rugged crest.
This part of the JMT was truly excellent. It travelled along on the western side of the crest, just below the needles and spikes that you can see so clearly from Lone Pine to the east. Thus, every time there was a cleft between the spikes, the trail would be right there, so you could climb up a few feet to catch a view nearly straight down for a thousand feet. Very impressive, and not recommended for those afraid of heights. Naturally, I checked out each and every one of them, and took photos and videos every time. I’m only showing a few of my pictures here, and there are already far too many of them here. Scroll onward and enjoy!
The first section traversed along below Mount Muir, which was a fourteener unto itself. I had forgotten that fact when I met a lady peakbagger about to climb it. We stopped and chatted, and it turned out that she was heading south toward the Miter Basin after bagging it. She wasn’t bothering with Whitney today as she’d already bagged it in the past! So I told her about my trip to the basin back in 2021, and that there was a relatively unknown shortcut to Crabtree Pass that I’ve always wanted to hike: The Giant Sandhill. She seemed intrigued, and not afraid to hike cross-country. I wished her well and continued onward on my (sigh) third ascent of Whitney. Maybe I should have bagged Muir while I was there…
I kept on hiking, passing tower after tower. Last time I was here (Whitney in a Day in 2022) I had just arrived from sea level, and I have to admit that my breathing was difficult, and I had to pause for rests over and over again as I climbed. But not today. OK, I wasn’t exactly storming up the mountain, but I also wasn’t feeling the utter fatigue that plagued me before. It was like I was conquering a whole new mountain, and I was invincible.
Eventually, with a mile or so to go, the trail broke out into a clearer zone. I could see a few more needles just ahead, plus the main Whitney massif beyond them. I also spoke to descending hikers, who told me about the one remaining snow patch up ahead. I could see tiny black dots moving across the snow, and I knew that it would be my turn soon enough.
The snow patch was the final obstacle before the trail climbed up on top of the flatter part of the Whitney massif. It turned out to be a bit fun, as the snow was slushy and not icy. If it had been icy I would have found a path around it on the granite boulders.
Then the trail headed east along a steep drop off between Whitney and the Keeler Needle. Yes, it was certain death if you walked off the edge. So of course a fellow hiker took a photo of me standing on the rim, and I took one of him. The view was absolutely stunning.
After that, it was only a short trudge along the trail to the Smithsonian Summit Hut. I signed my trail name (BIGFOOT) and took a look inside. This time, there was still quite a bit of unmelted snow inside. Too bad they took off the door of the hut! Not much of an emergency shelter without a door, although it’s better than nothing.
Then it was time to climb the last few boulders to the highest spot on the mountain. As expected, there were quite a few hikers up there. Some came up from the east and others from the west.
I posed near the cliff edge holding a laser-cut aluminum sign saying “Mount Whitney 14,505” while another hiker took my photo. There are at least two of these metal signs up there, both of which were created by the KCB Laser company of Highland, CA. Cutting them was one thing, but carrying them all the way up there was another! Thanks! These are great, no doubt about it.
After that, I took even more videos and photos. I also got some Verizon signal up there, all the way from Lone Pine, far away in Owens Valley. I sent out a text to my family letting them know where I was. Last time, I tried sending a photo and it didn’t go very well, so this time I kept it to text-only. Then I got out my trusty Pop-Tart lunch and ate it along with the rest of the folks. I reminded them that they were all Fourteeners now, and that once you summit a fourteener, you will always be a Fourteener. This is important.
Eventually, of course, it was time to go. It was a long way down, and those miles weren’t going to hike themselves. On the way back, I headed over to the north end of the summit to check out the Mountaineer’s Route. I neared the edge with caution, recalling that two women fell to their deaths a month or so ago. RIP. While exhilarating, mountaineering has never been the safest of sports. Still, I really want to try that route one day. It sounds challenging. Besides, everyone knows that death only happens to other people.
As I walked, I saw stone wind breaks that surrounded camping spots, which were only slightly better than staying inside the hut. At the edge, I saw semi-frozen Arctic Lake, over two thousand feet below me. Great name for a frozen lake. Off to the north stretched the Sierra Crest, raw rock standing high into the clear blue sky. Lakes dotted the gray stone valleys, and far below was the green of pines. What a spot! Spectacular, indeed. And I had to leave it behind. Oh, well. Maybe someday I would return. We’ll see what happens.
On the way back to Trail Crest the sunlight shining down below in the Guitar Lake Basin was much better. No more dark shadows and bright white granite to ruin the exposure of my photos. So I took even more! But I’ll show fewer of them here on this page, which is far too long as it is. Anyway, at least the hiking was easy, being downhill, and I didn’t pause for breaks quite as often.
I met fewer people on the way down from Trail Crest. Most of the PCT hikers climbed this section in the dark, and the few that came up with me were intending to exit to the east, to Whitney Portal. But that was OK. I was having a great hike, at a good temperature, with a very light backpack. That would change when I got back to camp, but for now, life was good, and the Sierra was beautiful.
I arrived at Guitar Lake and went directly to my tent. At first it was sunny, and everything was roasting hot as I knelt into the doorway of the tent. I was sweating profusely as I tossed the heavy gear outside by my pack, and stuffed my sleeping bag as rapidly as possible. I was happy when a puffy cumulus cloud drifted across the sun. That’s when I took down the tent and rolled it up. Then I rammed everything into the backpack (in the proper order and place, of course). I looked around, checking for missing gear, and took another picture of my campsite. I put on my pack and said goodbye to Guitar Lake. For now. And then it was time to hike on down the JMT, all the way back to the PCT.
As the afternoon lengthened, the clouds thickened, and the hiking was much better in the shade. I followed along Whitney Creek, and stopped to filter a couple liters of water. That would be enough for dinner, breakfast, and half of tomorrow’s hike. There was plenty of water up ahead, so I wasn’t worried at all.
I reached the trail junction near the Crabtree Ranger Station and saw a bunch of PCT hikers arriving. They were taking it easy now so that they could wake up at midnight for the dawn summit. Every day in the Summer this happens, the constant rotation of hikers experiencing the glory of Mount Whitney.
After that, I stayed up on the JMT until it met the PCT, which meant that I would be skipping an entire half mile of Pacific Crest Trail! Oh no! It was a terrible shame, but it was my decision after all. I hiked it back in 2020, and it was mostly just a short climb from the meadow to this upper plateau. I decided to call my route to Whitney a “PCT Alternate” which semi-officially made it OK. I anticipated other “alternates” to occur in the near future, and I wasn’t too worried. It was MY hike, after all.
Once I reached the PCT, I double-checked the comments in the Far Out app. Yes, there were camping spots near this junction, off to the northeast. So I headed off trail, and followed a sandy-bottomed valley uphill a short ways, until I couldn’t see the trail any longer. That was far enough, I decided.
I set up camp on some soft sand and got my gear in order. I blew up the air mattress and plopped my butt down inside the tent. I lay down for a few minutes and thought about my day. It had been one heck of a good day, without a doubt. I sent out a text to Vicki via satellite to let her know that all was well. Then it was time for some dinner, and a well-deserved sleep. Tomorrow would be another fun day, as I headed north toward Forester Pass, the highest point on the PCT. I could hardly wait!
For a topographic map of the hike see my CalTopo Page
For LOTS more photos of the trek see my Flickr Page
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