Day 19

Day's start: Crabtree Junction
Day's end: Whitney Portal (Showers! Pillows! Real beds!)
Day's miles: 15.4 miles
Total trip miles: 218.5 miles

When the alarm on my watch went off this morning at 3:30, I opened my eyes and stared at the tent ceiling - last night in a wet tent! Last day of the trip! Bring it on! In the Crabree Junction campground we could see that we were the first set of headlamps to be moving around, but within about 45 minutes a few other sets flicked on around the meadow as other hikers readied themselves for the hike to the top of Whitney. After packing up our stuff, we took one excited look around camp to make sure we weren't leaving anything behind and then began our morning hike by headlamp a little before 5:00 (I understand that 1.5 hours to pack up all your belongings is kind of a long time, but let's see if you can do it any faster when your tent - and pretty much everything else - is soaked from last night's thunderstorm, it's pitch black, and your headlamp is starting to go because it's low on batteries).

Early morning hiking

A little more than an hour into our hike, we pass Timberline Lake just as the sun is coming up, and soon enough we come to Guitar Lake. I'm very glad we didn't stay at Guitar Lake last night as originally planned. There were no trees in sight and everything is covered in a fresh layer of snow. No way would I have wanted to be here during last night's thunderstorm. At Guitar Lake we fill up our water bottles and I take a few minutes break. I'm a little worried about the climb we will be doing today. So far we've only climbed a little less than 1,000 feet and I'm already starting to have flashbacks to how exhausted I was going up Muir Pass almost a week ago. I try to tell myself that feeling so tired is just a mental thing, but looking up into the clouds where the mountain tops disappear is making me have second thoughts about needing to finish this trip today. Thinking of how we still have to another 4,400 feet of vertical climbing over five miles of fresh snow to go is making me wish I could just take a nap somewhere warm all day and save this for tomorrow. Before I can even start throwing myself a pity party, I say to myself some encouraging words (You can do it! After you finish this day you get to take a shower! And sleep in a real bed! With as many pillows as you want! BEER!!). I pop Aaron's iPod in, will my legs to move faster, and try to take my couple minute catch-your-breath breaks only once per hour. If we're going to beat these storm clouds to the top of Mt. Whitney, we have no choice but to move fast!

Beautiful Timberline Lake

 Nearing Guitar Lake...

...and passing Guitar Lake.

As we climb towards Trail Crest, where the summit trail to Mt. Whitney veers off, I find myself staring mainly at the ground trying not to step on any ice and slide my way all the way back down to Guitar Lake. After a while I can feel hail starting to hit me. We both stop to take a look at what the weather is doing. Currently, the trail leads us straight into a cloud. I'm not kidding. I can see about 20 yards in front of me and then the trail, and the rest of the mountain, just disappears in this white, hazy blur. Doesn't hail usually happen before lightning? Perhaps walking straight into this cloud isn't the best thing we should do. Unfortunately, we don't have very many options available to us at this moment, so we put our heads down and hike as fast as possible through the cloud.

Climbing up towards Trail Crest

 Nasty weather... but it made for some neat photos!

My body is screaming for a break about two hours later when we spot the junction and the sign that marks Trail Crest. Finally. The weather only looks like it's getting worse, so we have a quick talk about if we want to still head to the top of Mt. Whitney or just head down the other side of the mountain to Whitney Portal. From Trail Crest, it is 1.9 miles one way to Muir Hut (the official ending point of the John Muir Trail). After weighing the obvious and immediate dangers of continuing on to the summit, we decide that we've hiked too far to possibly skip out on the last 1.9 miles of this trail just because of a (really scary) storm. So we drop our packs and take only our trekking poles, water, a few snacks, my camera, and the SPOT, and we head off to conquer the last 1,000 vertical feet of the John Muir Trail.

I did not take this picture (found it on the inter-webs), but I'm glad somebody took one... judging by the wording on the sign, it maybe was not the smartest move to continue to hike to the summit of Mt. Whitney...

View of Trail Crest from a few minutes up the trail

The trail leading up to Mt. Whitney starts off fairly tame as we're walking on boulders covered in fresh snow with a couple thousand foot drop to our left. After about 20 minutes later the storm clouds become darker, and where the mountain side dropped away on the right, where we should be able to see Lone Pine on the valley floor, all we see are dark, ugly clouds below and above us.

Looking up toward the summit of Mt. Whitney...

 ...and down to where Lone Pine should be...

After awhile we notice that we're some of the only people heading towards the summit, while most people are heading down. I stop and ask every person we come to if they've already been to the summit or if they're turning around because of the weather and most of them tell me that they have already been to the top. Those that have assure us that we have only about another 30-45 minutes to go before we reach the top and that we are so close we really shouldn't turn around now! Fueled by other people's optimism, we carry on towards the summit. After about 30 minutes, we find we are pretty much the only two people headed towards the top (or coming back down, for that matter), besides one group of day hikers. One guy in the group explains how he didn't come this far for nothing and that of course he want to try to make it to the top. Another looks visibly shaken and is trying to convince his friend to go on alone and that he will wait for him back at Trail Crest. Well... at least we won't be the only people on the summit of Mt. Whitney in a few minutes, so if the weather takes another turn for the worst we'll at least have some company.

After 5-10 minutes and a few more switch backs, we look up and see Muir Hut! I can't believe it! That's the end! Right when we start to run towards our finish line we run into the only other two people coming off the top of Mt. Whitney - the parents of the backpacking family, No Trace and Unbreakable! I'm so happy to see the end point and some friendly faces! I smile so big that I almost start to cry.

Have you ever seen two people look more happy? The backpacking family parents were able to take our picture - thanks!!

 Muir Hut - the official ending point of the John Muir Trail

See?... we really made it!

After our quick mini reunion we race to the top of Muir Hut to sign the log book, peek our heads inside Muir Hut, and take a few pictures. I stuff my camera back inside my down jacket pocket, underneath my Driduck jacket and we turn around to face the descent.

*You'll just have to take my word for the rest of this post, because my camera lived in my pocket for the remainder of the day. Too much wind, ice, snow, hail, rain, rock ledges, etc.*

Now, I thought the weather was bad before, but when we turned around to hike off the summit, this grey-white blur of a cloud had moved in so close that you could hardly see 15 yards away. We hurry down the summit as fast as we can, but Aaron slips a bit on some ice onto a nearby rock. His trekking pole broke his fall which is good for him, but bad for his trekking pole, because now it is broken. I'm not sure if I wrote about this before, but here is the shape our trekking poles are in: Aaron had broke one a few days ago somewhere in between Glen and Forester so he didn't even bother taking it up to the summit of Whitney, and the other one has just snapped in two right here. I had one that was fully functional, and one that doesn't lock all the way and has been jerry-rigged to stay open at a certain length with a combination of KT tape and duct tape. Great. So far my lucky penny isn't doing much for either of us. I give him one of my trekking poles and we start hiking again, only this time much slower. The storm has grown much more intense and is now blowing snow sideways at our faces, which makes it very hard to keep our eyes open. Besides stinging our faces, the snow has also covered up patches of ice, that minutes before were visible and easily avoidable. Every once in awhile my foot slips on a patch of ice, and I can't help but think about how far the drop would be to my immediate right. However, on the positive side, it is kind of nice not being able to see how far down the drop would be... you know... out of sight, out of mind.

The storm keeps getting worse, but after the longest and possibly most difficult 1.9 miles of my life we reach Trail Crest. Our packs are now completely covered with snow to the point that you wouldn't notice them unless you knew where to look. Just as we're shaking our packs off, two guys come hiking up to the top of Trail Crest. They explain that they wanted to summit Whitney, but there is no way they are thinking of doing that in this storm. Apparently, one of the guys has just hiked Whitney not too long ago, so he's a bit familiar with this section of trail down toward Whitney Portal. I have never felt so relieved in my life to see two strangers, especially knowing that they are familiar with this trail. At this point, the snow has been coming down heavily and is still blowing sideways, so the trail - when we can catch a glimpse of where it should be in the white-out conditions - is totally unrecognizable to us.

I have been in some very uncomfortable and scary situations while backpacking, but this one takes the cake. Looking down the other side of Mt. Whitney, where Whitney Portal and Lone Pine should be, is maybe 15 yards of possible trail. Everywhere you look it is completely white. The clouds block all the views and the fresh layer of snow makes it almost impossible to see where a switchback switches around. If it hadn't been for those two guys we followed down the side of Mt. Whitney, I'm almost positive one of us would have taken a false step somewhere and ended up in a very sticky situation. As we're hiking down the trail, the snow continues to sting our faces which makes my eyes tear up only adding to my visibility problem. The snow and ice begins to collect on the bottom of my pant leg, and creates this icy weight that I keep swinging around with every step. Aaron stops a few times to help fix this situation by knocking the ice off my pants, but it doesn't seem to make any difference. Mt. Whitney: 1, Rose and Aaron: 0.

As we continue making our way through the storm toward Lone Pine, we come to a section of trail where someone has kindly placed a rope banister so no one falls to their death down this mountain side. A dayhiker comes up behind me and starts to jump down this section of trail like he has skies on. I wish I could find some joy in this like he is, but all I keep thinking of is trying to have both of us arrive all in one piece in Lone Pine so we can have a beer(s) and sleep in a real bed with real pillows. Pillows! Beer! A real bed! It's almost enough to make a person get through this.

After about an hour the snow begins to lighten up and the clouds move a bit so we aren't walking in them anymore and we can finally see where we are hiking and the drop to the bottom that is still so far away. Without the snow and wind howling in my ear, I can hear something else I haven't heard yet on this trail. Water. Apparently, there is a stream that runs straight down this mountain side and right down the middle of these switchbacks. Every time we near the middle of a switchback we can hear rushing water underneath our feet under a layer of snow, ice, and rocks. Right now, I'm just glad it's cold enough that we aren't breaking through the ice, because I don't know if I could take walking in cold, wet shoes on top of all of this.

As we decend lower and lower, the snow peters out and gives way to mud and huge puddles. The two hikers we had been following stop for a break near the dayhiker (who is clearly not having a good time anymore by the look of his soaking clothes and the sour puss on his face). Now that we can see something that resembles the trail we try to pick up the pace to get off this awful mountain side. I try to stay away from the puddles in order to keep my feet at least somewhat dry, but after awhile the puddles turn into a stream that turns into the trail, and there is nothing to do but get our feet wet and keep moving so we can stay warm. After about a half hour break from some sort of precipitation, it begins to rain. This is possibly the most physically uncomfortable that I can remember myself being. My face is wind burnt, everything I own is soaked, my feet are freezing and soaking wet, I can feel new blisters forming, my body is way beyond exhausted, and we have just hiked about two of the longest, slowest miles in the history of ever - and there are still about five left to go!

I can feel a meltdown coming, so we take a quick break and crawl under a rock (literally) that offered us both a little room to get out of the rain for a minute if we both sat cross legged and hunched over. While we're waiting, Aaron replaces the batteries in the SPOT that lasted us until we got to the top of Mt. Whitney (go figure), and he presses the OK button to let our families know we're alive. Every time I've talked to my parents on this trip thus far they mentioned how they've been glued to the SPOT google map, tracking our hike all day, pulling up images of where we are on Google Earth to get a feel of what we're seeing, and taking bets on where we will stop for the day. I wish right now they would find me on Google Earth, and notice the storms and all this ugly weather and send some emergency rescue helicopter to get me off this stupid mountain and take me somewhere warm. Ugh.

Knowing tonight that we will be able to drink beer, take showers to get all this mud off us, drink beer, sleep in warm beds with entirely too many pillows, drink beer, and not get rained on at any point during the day or night propels us out from under the rock and gets us moving again. Once we finally reach the treeline it begins to rain harder, but this time we're at least a little sheltered by the trees, which is greatly appreciated.

About three miles from Whitney Portal, we pass two guys who are sitting on top of their huge packs staring up at Mt. Whitney. I ask them if they are intending on going up there today.
"Well, we were thinking about it, but the storm looks pretty bad, so we didn't really want to get above the treeline. Did you come from Mt. Whitney?"
"We did, and trust me, you do not want to go up there today. It's brutal."
We talk to them for awhile, and I ask them if they know anything about a shuttle that will take you from Whitney Portal to Lone Pine. Apparently, no such shuttle exists (which sucks), but then one of them, Dave, tells us that he is planning on going back to Lone Pine tonight because of the storm and that he wouldn't mind giving us a ride - woo! Lucky penny! Our day is finally looking up!

We follow both of them down the mountain toward Whitney Portal. Even though their packs are so much bigger and heavier than ours, they are flying down this mountain. We don't want to hold them up, so we make our tired selves go faster to keep up with them (which ultimately causes my left quad to go all pins and needley for the next two and a half weeks, but at least we got a ride into town! Lesson learned - hike at your own pace.). Just as we are nearing Whitney Portal and we can catch glimpses of asphalt in between the trees, Dave shouts out to everybody to watch out for the bear. What?! We've just walked about 226 miles (including side trips), and we've never seen a bear once, well... until now!

We pile in Dave's car and take off for the Lone Pine Comfort Inn. After doing nothing but walking for almost three weeks straight, it's amazing how fast it feels like you're going when you get to ride in a car. After checking in at the Comfort Inn, we each take some of the longest showers and sprawl on the bed (a real bed!) to think about what we want for dinner. There's not many choices in Lone Pine, so we settle for a huge pizza and a bunch of beers. Just as we're leaving the Comfort Inn to go pick up our pizza and beer, we see some hikers walking towards us... wait a minute... It's Mike!! The last time we had seen him was when we left Red's Meadow and he stayed behind to wait for his hiking friends to join him for the next leg of his trip. I can't believe that we bumped into him after so many miles! Apparently, he was a day or two behind us and by the time he reached Forester Pass, some Park Rangers had blocked the pass off and said it was impassable due to a huge amount of fresh snow and this storm that's been chasing us for the past few days. I'm really glad to see one of our hiking friends, but I feel badly for him knowing how far he hiked and that he was about a day and a half from completing this trail in its entirety... maybe he'll try again next year.

We bring the pizza and beer back to the hotel to eat it in bed surrounded by extra pillows before we fall asleep around 9pm. Even though showers, pizza, beer, clean clothes, beds, and pillows are really nice, I have a feeling that I'm going to miss this trail and hiking everyday. There is definitely something about that simplistic lifestyle that I have really come to love and know I will miss.

Maybe on the drive home tomorrow, we can start to plan our next medium-distance backpack trip... that would be nice.

Who says you can't hike the entire JMT in trail runners? If you have a 14 pound base weight you can!!

You can enlarge any of these pictures by clicking on them.