Acute Mountain Stupidity (Part 3 of 5)

 

 

 

My first of what would eventually be many trips to the Whitney Portal was fascinating. Before I was very far up the Portal Road I saw a very loud sign proclaiming, “Entering Active Bear Area”. The relationship between bears and the Portal is a tale so detailed (and humorous) it would require a separate blog entry, but suffice it say that this is without a doubt one of the most troublesome bear areas in the country. Bears congregate around food, and the Portal is the biggest bear magnet in the Eastern Sierra, outside of the notorious antics of the bears in Yosemite.

As I approached the Portal the white granite tower of Mt. Whitney grew larger and larger, until it was framed like a portrait in my windshield. I knew the trail I would be taking did not follow that ridiculously steep route I was seeing (known as the Mountaineer’s Route), and that it wound along a more mellow path (relatively so, anyway), but it was still a bit intimidating to see it this close. It looked very, very high and quite daunting.

I parked and went into the Portal Store to check out this iconic landmark. My first impression was that it didn’t seem possible that so much merchandise could be inside a store that looked so tiny from the exterior. The requisite touristy stuff was present – tees, hats, stickers, magnets, etc – but there was also quite a bit of hiking and backpacking supplies. There were also multiple coolers/freezers for beer, soda, Gatorade, and ice cream. Then, of course, there was the kitchen in the back that prepared the famous Portal Burger and Portal Pancake. There was no seating in the store itself, but it was surrounded by a number of picnic tables.

I ordered my Portal Burger Special from Amy at the counter (who we would come to know well in the years to come, and who turned out to be a master climber and eventual guide for the most prestigous guiding outfit in the Eastern Sierra). I was really astounded at how dirt-cheap everything was. This is in an area of pricey California where customers are essentially a captive audience. The same items in, say, Death Valley, which is a similar captive-audience environment, sell for three times what the Portal charges. Sodas were $1.50. A good beer was $3.50. The monster burger I had ordered, complete with an entire fresh-cut potato of French fries, was $7.50. I was flabbergasted, but soon came to learn that this was a reflection of the owners’ personality and philosophy. Doug and Earlene Thompson just do not gouge, even when it’s expected.

Doug and Earlene bought the Portal Store in the mid-80s (actually, the store itself is on Federal land and is Federal property, so they really lease it) and have been operating it ever since. They originally launched the venture as a way to assist and supply climbers in the Whitney area. It was not the tourist destination then that it has since become, and the traffic at the Portal was a majority of young climbers who were operating on a very slim budget. Doug had been one of those climbers, and he and Earlene wanted to operate a business that was supportive of that love of climbing.

One of the most critical things they supplied back in those pre-internet days was information. Beta - condition reports for the mountain, which are are critical for anyone venturing up. How are the creeks running? Where is there snow present? Are ice axe and crampons necessary in some areas? Are any of the routes icy? Is rockfall a danger? To answer those questions Doug, and his son Doug, Jr., would regularly climb the steep, Class 4 Mountaineer’s Route, then descend along the main trail. They would write up a condition report and post it at the store to assist those heading up over the next few days. This concept eventually turned into the Whitney Portal Store Message Board on the internet, where everyone could share their experiences in a timely manner.

I have absolutely no doubt that Doug has summited Mt. Whitney more than any living person, although he lost count long ago. And it’s not just summits that make Doug extraordinary – he is often the first responder for any crisis on the mountain. Cell service is virtually non-existent up on the mountain (or at the Portal), so any situation requiring help usually finds its way down the mountain by word of mouth, and ultimately is presented at the Portal Store (quite often in a hysterical, confused manner). If it’s appropriate, the Store staff makes a call for help to Inyo County SAR (Search and Rescue). However, from the time an emergency call is placed to the time a SAR team is on site and ready to head up the mountain can be hours.

Bad accidents and fatalities certainly happen on Whitney, but the majority of assistance calls revolve around cases of altitude sickness, ankle/leg injuries, or exposure. These often result in the victim eventually making it down under their own power, but usually over a much longer period than planned, and typically with assistance. When these frantic appeals for help come in to the store (multiple times per week during the summer), the staff often have to determine how legit and serious the situation is. This can be difficult since the information is not often first-hand and can be quite contradictory. Sifting through these varying reports is really an art that Doug has perfected. Ultimately though, if he decides it is legit and someone truly is in trouble up on the mountain, after placing the call to SAR he will grab, as he puts it, “a Pepsi and a candy bar and head up the mountain” to see what he can do to help. Usually in blue jeans and a cotton tee shirt, which traditionally is just about the worst possible clothing combo to wear on a mountain (Cotton Kills!), but it doesn’t phase Doug a bit.

Doug is living Whitney legend and a true gem of a man. During the summers he spends 16 hours a day managing the Portal Store, as well as the Whitney Hostel in Lone Pine, but despite that grind he always has a smile and a laugh ready for his customers. He dispenses advice throughout each summer day, often answering the same questions ad nauseum, the most common being, “So, what will the weather be like on the summit tomorrow?” This question is pretty much a running joke among the Portal crew and is likely to produce an amazingly comical range of responses. As if anyone could accurately answer that question. At 14,508 feet, a nice summer day can quickly degrade into very dangerous thunderstorms with massive lighting and hail, or even a sub-freezing, howling, snowy nightmare. Big mountains often make their own weather, and Whitney is a prime example of that alpine Sybil Syndrome.

I went to work on my massive Portal Burger and double-fried fries, chowing down and enjoying the beauty of the narrow canyon the Portal is situated in. Massive granite walls tower above the canyon on both the north and south sides, funneling the snowmelt from the heights into what eventually becomes Lone Pine Creek flowing through the Portal. A beautiful waterfall cascades about a hundred yards from the store (Barb’s Happy Place), and that sound of rushing water combines with the breeze singing through the huge Ponderosa Pines that fill the canyon. It makes for a very peaceful, captivating environment, and is one of my favorite places in the Sierra.

I could not know it at the time, but this place would become a virtual second home for myself, Barb and Bri over the succeeding six years. As I sat there wolfing down the Portal burger and fries, I could not have imagined that in less than a year my little girl, at the age of 9, would be helping prepare them! She would also be running the store register, stocking shelves, preparing pancake mix, shouting out menu orders, and generally making a nuisance of herself with Myles, the hilarious Portal cook and object of Doug's wrath. I admire Doug a lot, but I really owe him for giving Bri a sense of purpose when we visit, allowing her to grow in ways she could not back home. During our time in Lone Pine, rather than being bored when we’re not on the mountain, Bri is always encouraged to be a member of the Portal Crew. She stays happily busy and absolutely loves it. That has been priceless for us.

The Whitney Trailhead is located less than 50 yards from the store. After finishing off my meal, I wandered about a mile up the trail to get a sense of what type of terrain I’d be negotiating in the dark in a few days. I was still a bit tired from my hike earlier, but the grade seemed reasonably gentle and the path was well-maintained. After a few hundred yards I was satisfied that I would have no worries about losing my way with just a headlamp. I stopped at the North Fork (of Lone Pine Creek) crossing, which was really my objective. This is the longest water crossing on the trail, at about 20 yards, and I wanted a look at the width, water level and rock-hops. The flow was surprisingly high for August, but looked quite manageable. Happy with what I had seen, I returned to the Portal, and then back to the hotel and bed.

I was up early the next morning, having a dry breakfast in my room and then making the drive up Horseshoe Meadow Road in the dark to the same trailhead I had started out from the previous day. The day before I had taken the Cottonwood Lakes trail, but today I would be taking the Cottonwood Pass trail and going a bit higher, hopefully to 12,000 feet. Tucker and I waded through the same beach-sand mess to start off, but soon the ground became more compacted and solid, and walking was much easier. I had clearly acclimated better and found the hike more comfortable than the day before. I passed several people on horseback, which is just kinda weird at this elevation but certainly made for an interesting morning. I moved along at a decent pace, breathing deeply and on the lookout for another headache. Fortunately it never came and I was feeling good about my acclimation plan.

After a few hours of very leisurely walking I approached Cottonwood Pass. I moved up the final switchbacks and topped out at about 11,600 feet. Not good enough. I wanted 12,000 feet, but the trail leveled out for quite a distance before gaining any more elevation, and I didn’t want to add another 4 miles to my hike. While resting and having some lunch I noticed that the terrain to my right was a jumble of boulders and talus. It also ascended at least another 500 feet above my current level. There was my 12,000!

The most fun I have in the mountains is scrambling. Scrambling is essentially un-roped climbing, using your hands as much as your feet in terrain that isn’t too terribly steep or dangerous. Of course, there’s always danger in climbing – especially un-roped – but a good sense of balance and careful route selection mitigates a lot of that danger. Leaving my pack where it was, I made my way up those 500 feet in fairly short order, paying close attention to the 3-Point rule (3 points of contact with hands and feet at all times). I topped out a bit breathless but feeling satisfied and loving the views. Outstanding – I was at 12,000 feet, no headache, and I’m feeling pretty good!

The descent was slower than the ascent. Most mountain accidents, from Everest to the smallest hill, occur mostly on the way down. There are two reasons for this. First, you’re more fatigued on the descent, from all the effort put into the ascent, and more prone to mistakes. Secondly, your momentum going down, as opposed to up, is tailor-made for bad things to happen. A stumble going up usually leads to a minor settling in place, or face-plant at the worst. A slip or stumble with momentum going down often ends up with a tumbling or out-of-control fall. You really need as much, or more, care on a descent as you put into the ascent. I made it down in relatively short order, however, and returned to my pack.

And that’s where I met the group of teenage boys I detailed in Part One of this blog. The end result of that encounter sadly being that one sixteen year-old didn’t make it home alive from their impromptu backpacking trip, succumbing to cerebral edema after the rapid onset of AMS symptoms. When I left the group, having done what I could to assit the boy, I of course had no idea that he would worsen quickly and be dead within 24 hours. When I later realized the fatality I had been reading about was actually the boy in the group I encountered that day, it really shook me. AMS is no joke, people.

I returned to the HISTORIC Dow Hotel after grabbing a burger in town and was in bed pretty early again. My plan for the next day was to drive 120 miles north to Yosemite National Park for my final acclimation hike. The day before I had put in about eight miles and 1200 feet of gain, and today was about the same distance, but 2000 feet of gain. I was feeling much better today after the hike, but I would have a third consecutive day on the trail tomorrow. I wouldn’t be going as high – only to about 10,600 feet – but I’d be doing it in what I consider the most beautiful national park in the country.

I was up at 3:00 the next morning and on my way north up 395 by 4:30. I had never made this drive before and was astounded at the views of the Eastern Sierra crest for the entire 100 miles to the turnoff to Yosemite. The Sierra just does not stop! Mile after mile after mile, this imposing granite range seems to go on forever. Watching the sun rise and scatter a golden alpenglow across these towering mountains was really a treat, and I just knew it was going to be a good day.

The Eastern Sierra is pretty sparsely populated but I passed through a number of small towns during the drive. Independence, Big Pine, and Bishop (the largest of them and pretty much Ground Zero for the Eastern Sierra mountaineering community) came and went pretty quickly. Tom’s Place, trendy Mammoth Lakes, and June Lake soon followed, and in less than two hours the awesome sight of Mono Lake came into view. Mono Lake is the largest lake in California and is characterized by the salty tufa towers that rise out of the ultra-alkaline waters. Unlike the ugly, greenish Great Salt Lake in Utah, it’s a gorgeous, shimmering blue amid the high desert setting, and with the monstrous Sierra rising to 13,000 feet just a few miles to the west it truly is eye candy of the highest order.

I turned off on CA 120, commonly known as Tioga Road, which is the only true throughway across the Sierra Nevada, and was at the eastern Yosemite entrance station in about 30 minutes. The dramatic Tioga Road is only open a few months each year due to heavy snow accumulation, but is quite popular when it is. It snakes, twists, and winds its way from the highest points in Yosemite’s eastern border down into the iconic Yosemite Valley.

There are really two Yosemites – The Valley, and the rest of the park. During the summer months Yosemite Valley makes Disney World look tame. This beautiful vale, boasting some of the most recognizable sights in America’s portfolio of natural wonders (Half Dome, El Capitan, Ansel Adams’ Inspiration Point, Yosemite and Bridal Veil Falls), becomes Grand Central Station on steroids when the weather is nice. The hordes descend on this relatively small valley and make finding a parking space a quest that can last an hour. We’ve been there twice in summer and have sworn never again. It’s just not worth it.

By contrast, the eastern end of the park, where the highest peaks are located, is relatively tame and under-visited. Tuolumne Meadows is a popular camping and hiking nexus, but it does not see even a fraction of the traffic Yosemite Valley endures. To me this is the ‘real” Yosemite. My hike to Mono Pass would begin from a trailhead on the eastern edge of the park, and I was pulling in there about ten minutes after passing through the entrance station.

The hike itself was nothing spectacular because I never reached my destination (Mono Pass). I was probably 3 miles into it when my legs began to feel fatigued and dead. When planning these acclimation hikes I had waffled back and forth regarding the wisdom of putting so many miles in just prior to what would undoubtedly be the toughest day I had ever had on a trail. Tomorrow would be a rest day, but given how my legs were feeling and the fact I would be launching off on Whitney in less than 48 hours, I decided discretion was the better part of valor and called an abrupt halt to any further “up”. I settled down next to a gorgeous little lake (name unknown), enjoyed a snack, and just took it all in. It was truly beautiful, and that was one of the most memorable moments for me during this trip. I felt content and at peace, not having seen another soul for about an hour. I spent probably two hours beside that lake just absorbing the alpine environment and being happy. Tucker even benefited from my good mood and didn’t receive a single sharp comment the entire time I was settled in that idyllic spot.

Returning to the trailhead at a leisurely pace, I drove out of Yosemite and down to US 395. Needing gas, I turned into a Mobil station at the junction of 395, filled up, and called Barb to give her a progress report. I stepped inside to grab something to drink and was astounded to discover what would immediately become another Eastern Sierra must-visit for each of our trips out here: The Whoa Nellie Deli.

While gassing up I had noticed that there was an unusually large green space on the eastern side of the Mobil Mart, complete with quite a number of tables and chairs that enjoyed a very picturesque overlook of Mono Lake. When I stepped inside I saw the typical convenience mart environment to one side, but to the other was the Whoa Nellie Deli – a bustling gourmet grill. We’ve all seen convenience/gas marts partnered with fast food chains, but this was something entirely different. The menu offered cranberry lamb chops, lobster taquitos, fish tacos, and any number of other out-of-the-ordinary delicacies you’d never expect to find at a gas station.

I couldn’t help myself. I had eaten just a couple of hours before, but I promptly ordered the lobster taquitos and a cold draft local microbrew. I took my meal outside and sat at one of the picnic tables, enjoying the incredible view of Mono Lake and the awesome meal. I didn’t know it at the time, but the WND also provides live entertainment on this green during weekends and evenings. Along with a Portal pancake and burger, the WND became one of our absolute must-eats each succeeding trip out here. Only in California . . .

The drive back to Lone Pine was uneventful and the rest of the evening was taken up with wandering the town. The next day, my rest day, was spent up at one of the Horseshoe Meadows campgrounds just hanging out at 10,000 feet for a final acclimation. I snacked, read, and strolled for about 8 hours, concentrating on consuming as many complex carbs as I could. My best estimate was that I would expend something on the order of 6000 calories during the next day’s effort, and those carbs would be essential for maintaining my energy level for the anticipated 16 hours on the trail. Lots of bready snacks followed by a huge dish of pasta when I returned to town. And zero guilt cuz I knew all those calories and more would be gone in 24 hours.

I returned to the HISTORIC Dow Hotel to prepare my pack and try to get as much sleep as possible. I triple-checked my daypack-stretching load, ensuring I had everything I would need, then climbed into bed about 7:30 for a 2:00 wake-up. Predictably, I could not fall asleep. I was wound up with excitement at the prospect of tomorrow’s adventure and spent several hours tossing and turning, which was aggravated by the knowledge that I HAD to get some sleep or tomorrow would be miserable. And that, of course, was counter-productive, contributing to even more anxious tossing and turning. Ultimately, I may have gotten a couple of hours fitful rest by the time my alarm started chiming at 2:00.

Although I was tired from the lack of sleep, I bounced out of bed eager to get started. I completely emptied my pack and went though yet another gear verification and re-load – that Hicks OCD syndrome tirelessly at work. I wolfed down more complex carbs, stoked up on coffee, and headed out the door. The drive up to the Portal in the dark was exhilarating, and when I stepped out at the parking lot I was awestruck by the sky. It was completely clear and I had never seen so many twinkling stars in my life. But then again, I had never had the opportunity to look up at a clear night sky at 3:00 am from 8,400 feet before. It seemed almost as if I was looking at heaven!

The flip side of that grandeur is that it can make you feel very small, and as my gaze turned to the west I saw the immense bulk of Mt. Whitney outlined as a deeper, darker silhouette against that glittering sky. It looked almost menacing and doubts began to creep into my mind. Was I really ready for this? Had I prepared as well as I could? Had I forgotten anything? Would the twenty-plus miles I had put on my legs this week combined with the lack of sleep doom me? Did I really have any business trying this solo at my age?

Stop it, Hicks! You’ve planned and prepped for this day for almost four years, and it’s finally here. Quit undermining yourself! In ten hours, give or take, I’d be on that summit up there, standing on the highest point in the Lower 48 and for thousands of miles east and west. That was all there was to it.

C’mon Tucker, you lazy, mangy, ungrateful S.O.B. – let’s get this show on the road!

Part 4 coming soon.