Mt. Whitney…Success!
My Mt. Whitney run / hike was a success! Six hours up, four hours back.
Everyone I met on the trail was extremely courteous, allowing me to pass them without my having to ask, and even yelling the occasional encouraging word at me. On the way down I returned the favor to the hikers still ascending, giving them the right of way, telling them, “You’re just about there, man!”
At 13,000 feet I began to experience quite a bit of altitude sickness. It began with a headache, then pins and needles in the hands, then I developed a drunken stupor. I began to have trouble placing my feet where I wanted them, and fell once because of it, stumbling over a large boulder. Luckily I fell to my right. If I had fallen to my left I would have fallen off trail and straight down the mountain. *whew* Needless to say, this slowed me down quite a bit.
All told, I was on the trail at 5am, on the summit at 11am, and back at the car at 3pm.
On the descent it began to snow, which turned into rain at lower altitudes. To add to this misery I ran out of water seven miles short of the trailhead. I saved my final swig of water to choke down a handful of Tylenol and Motrin. Out of water, I was forced to slow down and adopt the “survival trot” that’s familiar to distance runners in trouble. Luckily, Karin met me on the trail a quarter of a mile from the finish with a nice cold Gatorade. That was an amazing (and much welcome) surprise!
If I had to do it over again, I think I’d bring along a long sleeve shirt, more sun screen (can you say sunburn?), Chapstick, and definitely more water.
I hope you enjoy the following pictures. As always, feel free to click on them to enlarge. They’re well worth a closer look.

Another stone crossing. There was still snow on the mountain, and at lower altitudes I could hear waterfalls crashing all around me.

Ascending the brutal 99 Switchbacks. It's difficult to appreciate how long these switchbacks last. The hikers at the top disappear from view. It's here at 12,000ft that I started to feel a bit knackered and sick.

A portion of the trail a few miles from the summit, showing how easy it would be to fall over the side

The final two miles of the trail is a jumble of rocks and talus piles. It was here that I really began to feel the effects of altitude sickness, and very nearly went tumbling over the edge

The final push towards the top. Just out of view, the stone hut resides on the furthest peak, which is much further away than you think it is. You won't be able to see the hut until you're right on top of it, and it will signal the end of the trail.

The summit! It was here that I very nearly broke down into tears. Raising my hands in the air, pushing my hat off my head, I let a loud "Woo!" escape. A few hikers resting at the top clapped and congratulated me. One even offered me a few bites of salami and crackers after she kindly took my picture. If I had to describe my feelings here, it could best be summed up as an amalgamation of my fondest childhood Christmas morning, a silky morphine high, and a profound religious experience.

Standing at 14,496 feet, on top of the highest mountain in the continental United States. I might be smiling here, but on the inside I'm dying to descend to a lower altitude to combat my altitude sickness.

Looking down on Consultation Lake, Lone Pine Peak, Mt. Irvine, Mt. Langley, and Mt. McAdie. Notice the dark streaks of rain coming down on the right. This quickly caught up to me on the descent, turning into snow.

On the way back I saw dozens of pine trees with these patterns cut into them. Does anyone know why this was done? Edit: Thanks to commenter Brain for clearing up this mystery for me. Apparently, these trees allow hikers to stay on trail when it snows.
And that’s it! 22 miles and 14,500 feet later in 10 hours and I’m spent. For these next couple of days I’ll be resting and taking a steady diet of Motrin. Hopefully I’ll be recovered enough for a quick run up Iron Mountain in a few days



































