11/29/2024
My phone was set for 2am and the obnoxious blare of my alarm came all but too soon. With only five hours sleep, my son and I were about to embark on what would end up being one of the most challenging experiences of my life…attempting the summit of Mount Whitney. At 14,500 ft, it is the tallest mountain in the lower 48 and it has such an arduous reputation, that only one third of climbers who attempt it, reach the summit. It was the morning of day four of our John Muir Trail thru-hike. Landon and I had high hopes to reach the summit by early morning. We were up for the challenge; and while we both have never climbed a fourteener before, we had followed mountaineering safety advice and acclimated several days before the start of our trip. We packed plenty of calorie dense snacks for the day, each carried three liters of water and left camp by 3am. The air was thin and crisp that morning and eerie silhouettes danced across the winding trail as our headlamps cast shadows all around us. There was a monster looming in the dark and I couldn’t help but worry if it would overcome me that day. Darkness drowned the night sky and the only occasional visible light came from the faint flickering of climbers headlamps who started their accent earlier that evening. My heart began to race and I pushed back intimidating thoughts as I watched climbers in the distance slowly crawl up what appeared to be a sheer vertical face. A faint outline of Whitney was beginning to emerge and the absolute magnitude of the mountain was overwhelming.We had six grueling miles and thousands of vertical feet to climb ahead and my body was already beginning to feel effects of the altitude. How could I possibly be winded already? We hadn’t been on trail for more than 10 minutes and the steep climb wouldn’t even begin for another couple of miles. How was I possibly going to make it to the summit? As we traveled east past Guitar lake, we stopped at a flowing creek and topped off our water bladders. That would be the last water source of the day. The frigid water numbed our hands as we plunged the bladders into the creek. As we sat filtering our water, a tiny mouse appeared and couldn’t help but curiously inspect our bags for food as they lay against the rocks. As we sat in silence, my mind was still racing and I broke the news to Landon that I felt unsure how far my body was going to allow me to climb that day. I didn’t want to disappoint him. This was after all, an opportunity of a lifetime but I needed to be realistic of my body’s limits.I decided that I would set small goals and reassess once each checkpoint was reached. My first goal was to just make it to the start of the switchbacks. If I could just make it to that section of trail, I would at least feel some sense of accomplishment and be okay if I had to turn back. We pushed on and early morning dawn began to drown out the shadows. We caught our first full glimpse of our formidable opponent and marveled at how frightfully awesome the mountain was. As we climbed over 12,000 feet, to our surprise we were met by a climber who was already descending back down the mountain. He introduced himself by his trail name, Cheddar, and sadly shared with us that his ascent came to an abrupt halt at the 12,500 foot mark due to uncontrollable vomiting and dizziness, telltale signs of altitude sickness. He was an experienced climber who had climbed Mt. Kilimanjaro, numerous fourteeners in Colorado, and even peaks in the Swiss Alps. Thankfully he recognized to turn around and descend quickly to prevent worsening of symptoms, as altitude sickness can be life threatening.We asked if he needed anything and he assured us that he was already beginning to feel lessened effects of the altitude and he carried on down the mountain. As we continued climbing, I myself was beginning to feel symptoms of fatigue and dizziness. Also, my hands and feet felt like hundreds of needles were prickling into them. I knew that if we were going to have any chance of making it to the summit, we would have to slow our pace and take short rest breaks more often. We steadily made our way to the top of the switchbacks, which still left us two miles and another 1,000 feet of climbing to go. Most importantly though, I had made it to my next goal and I now had my sight set on moving onto the next checkpoint, the summit. To my surprise, when we reached the top of the switchbacks at 13,500 feet, my altitude sickness symptoms began to subside. I was thrilled! I felt like a whole new person and not one bit of fatigue or dizziness remained. It may have been my adrenaline or the realization of how close we were now to making this dream a reality. Either way, I was feeling great and had a second wind. As we ascended the last 1,000 feet, climbers from earlier in the morning began to make their way back down the mountain, warning us about the wind chill towards the top. Numerous men had icicles hanging from their beards and mustaches frozen over. Half a dozen people shared that their water filters had become frozen and cracked from the below freezing wind chill at the summit. Thankfully we had come prepared for the bitter cold and wind. However what was a bit unnerving was how forceful the wind was as we traversed our way along the edge of the trail. One large gust or one false step and the mountain would send you plunging thousands of feet down its unforgiving rock face. As we slowly traversed our way across the last snowfield near the summit, careful not to slide off the edge of the mountain, I couldn’t help but have this overwhelming feeling of pride and joy. To have fought through all the adversity and pain from that day and to have finally have the summit in sight, it was better than I could have ever imagined. The moment I laid eyes on the Smithsonian stone shelter as we reached the summit, any composure that was left in me was completely gone. Frozen tears came rolling down my cheeks. We did it! We did it!! I could not believe it. The sense of accomplishment was unbelievable and most importantly, we had climbed it together. Our John Muir Trail backpacking trip was planned as a celebration for my son graduating high school. My desire for this 280 mile journey was to build memories together that would last a lifetime as well as fulfill a life long dream of mine to thru-hike the entire trail. Climbing the tallest mountain in the lower 48 was icing on the cake and it will be a memory we both will never forget. At the summit, we spent over an hour and a half taking in the views, snapping photos, FaceTimed our family and friends, and even signed our names inside the stone shelter to forever be memorialized for as long as the shelter remains. In all, it took us six and a half grueling hours to reach the summit but it will forever be one of the top moments of my life. P.S. to Landon aka. Sherpa (trail name)As your dad, you have made me and your mom so unbelievably proud of the man you have become. The amount of dedication and endurance it took for us to complete this trip together is not lost on me. I am so thankful for the time we got to spend together and for the opportunity to share this incredible experience with you. Thank you bud and I love you so much! Love,Dad aka. Doctor Ramen (trail name)• The first video reel is a 2.5min snapshot of our summit experience. Hope you enjoy! As always, ask any questions about gear we used or tips for planning a trip of this scale. Would be happy to share our experience.
