<img border="5" src="http://piotrowski.smugmug.com/photos/127867132-M.jpg" align="left">
The view from up on the Switchbacks on Groundhog Day, 2007.
If you look carefully, you'll see that the Switchbacks zig-zag across the bulge in the lower, right-hand corner. Gives you a little bit of perspective on how steep the terrain up here really is.
I was thinking how much of an engineering marvel the Switchbacks are and was wondering whether they purposely built them where they are because the steep terrain had probably already shed most of the rock that will flake off.
Consultation Lake (right of center) is finally covered in a blanket of snow.It's getting to the point that I've done almost all of the "easy" stuff that's possible to do on Whitney. I wanted to get in a February ascent (to keep the streak alive) while conditions were easy, but also wanted to do something different. I knew that we were close to the full moon, and when I looked up the cycle on the Naval Observatory site, discovered that it would happen in Lone Pine at 09:46pm on Thurday, February 1, 2007. Since I planned on heading up to the Portal on Thursday, why not make an attempt at a Winter Full Moon Ascent?
Reports had led me to believe that only about two inches on new snow had fallen with the recent storm. I should have known that this wasn't true when I noticed that the drive up 395 had me seeing snow down into the five thousand foot level.
I stopped in Lone Pine for some food and coffee and then headed up the Whitney Portal Road. Things still didn't register when I noticed that I was driving past, and through, snow WAY down in the valley.
From about the turnout up, there was snow on the road. Several vehicles had passed, so it was almost easy for me to follow the tracks up. (The poor little Sentra didn't have the ground clearance required to keep from scraping on the high spots between the tracks. Car scaping? Two inches of snow?????)
I was actually having a lot of fun barreling up the road. I made it almost to the "famous photos switchback" before I completely lost traction. Since I couldn't park in the middle of the road, (I knew 4WD would make this easy.) I had to back down. Below the Meysan Lakes Trailhead parking area, I was able to move forward again and just punched the car into the snow drifts at the side of the road. (Five, or so, inches deep.)
I was on my way at about 09:28pm.
Here are the stats for the climb (I left the data in Military Time):
21:28 Leave Car At Meysan Lakes Trailhead
22:30 North Fork Of Lone Pine Creek
00:43 Outpost Camp
04:00 Trail Camp
11:03 Trail Crest
14:34 Mt. Whitney Summit
14:38 Leave Mt. Whitney Summit
17:18 Trail Crest
18:45 Trail Camp
20:33 Outpost Camp
22:29 North Fork Of Lone Pine Creek
22:52 Whitney Portal
23:11 Arrive At Car
Yeah! You're right, it wasn't a Day Hike. It took nearly TWENTY-SIX HOURS for the round trip!
I had figured on 07:00 for the summit, at the outside, if I was having a bad day. I was over seven-and-a-half hours slower than that!
Like I mentioned in another thread, I was able to follow tracks to about the elevation of Trailside Meadow. Beyond that, it was all me!
I hadn't used a headlamp at all, so when I ran out of moonlight, as it dipped behind Trail Crest, I decided to take a break and wait for daylight. I was surprised to see that my light down jacket was enough to keep me warm at about 12,400.
It was a little after 06:00 when I started climbing again.
When I got near the Cables, I stopped to eat and put on crampons. I should have known what I would be in for when the approach to the Cables turned out to be more sketchy then I would have liked. The crossing was interesting. The terrain above became a game of keeping the "pucker factor" under control. It was real interesting. (I keep using that word. I'd tend to substitute scary.)
When I was within a couple of hundred feet of the last long switchback to Trail Crest, I started wishing that I had a copy of Wayne Pyle's Switchback Spreadsheet. The drifted snow made it difficult to tell where they were and I finally lost them completely.
By this point, I really was too scared to continue a straight-line ascent up, so I headed on a traverse on a "weakness" that I thought would hold good snow. This turned out to be mostly true, but eventually, I reached the mixed snow conditions of the bowl. By mixed, I mean I was able to stay on top at times, sink to my knees at times, sink to my waist at times, and sink up to my chest at times. The big drops required backtracking out of the hole and finding another path.
On the last hundred feet to Trail Crest, I'd say I almost quit about a million times.
Wind at Trail Crest made trying to eat and drink a pain.
All I have to say about the trip up and back to the summit is: POSTHOLING FOR TWO MILES AT 14,000 feet. If you think about how hard this terrain feels under summer conditions, multiply the effort required by several times and then maybe a couple more. It was hard!
The summit was actually too warm to be comfortable. Since it was late, I tried to be as fast as possible in signing the register and tagging the benchmark. It took over four minutes to do these two tasks. I WAS getting tired.
I had been thinking that some of the traverses to the summit had been "you slip, you die" terrain. On the way back, I was "lucky" to find that this wasn't the case. A posthole that I had created on the way up collapsed when I weighted it. As instinct forced me to react to save myself, my mind was thinking that it was all over. I punched my heels down into the snow as I started to slide and caught the edge of the trail. I could see (thru three layers) my heart causing my shirt to thump. Needless to say, I started moving a LOT slower and much more deliberately.
On my way back, I had decided that I would do the snow slope directly to Trail Camp, rather than retracing my steps.
I ran out of daylight about three-quarters of the way down.
Shortly thereafter, I saw what I thought was a UFO over the Inyos. I stopped and stared for the longest time. I finally realized that it was the moonrise.
This was only the first of many hallucinations that I would experience. (Remember, by this time I was going beyond thirty-eight hours with no sleep.)
I don't remember much of the way down below Trail Camp. I do remember thinking that I was seeing the set of "Close Encounters of the Third Kind" as I approached it.
I couldn't believe how many people I was seeing on the trail, only to find that it was another hallucination.
I do believe that I did quite a bit of sleepwalking on the way down. (My parents told me stories about how I would get up out of bed and check to see that the doors were locked, so I know I've done it in the past.)
I'd say that I wanted to just lie down and go to sleep at least a hundred times. I knew I had the gear to survive, but didn't know if I had the will to put it on, so I just kept pushing for home.
Someone stole my McDonald's coffee cup that I left at the last running water just below Mirror Lake.
Reaching the Portal felt miraculous!
I couldn't believe that there was a very goodlooking cheerleader cheering me on as I headed down the road to my car. Another hallucination. It was the 15mph sign just before the "famous photos switchback."
When I got back to the car (11:11pm - auspicious numbers!), I realized that I was wet on the right side from having blown out the zipper of my pants on that side. I stripped off my gaiters, boots and pants and slid into my synthetic sleeping bag, knowing that I'd dry out inside. I was out cold in seconds!
I slept for nearly twelve hours solid, only rolling two times. I didn't get out of be until 04:00pm.
Side Notes:
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- I later learned that Rick Kent and Len Lochmiller had a conversation right outside of my car on Saturday morning. Len even rapped on the window. No reaction from me.
- Len had thought that I had headed up the North Fork early. He went up thinking that I had a tent up there for him. He ended up doing an open bivouac at Iceberg Lake.
- I ended up going better than 43 hours with no sleep (a new personal record).
- This beats my slowest ascent by 4, or so, hours.
- I think I'm going to try and start a new trend with the people who like to do drugs. The hallucinations that I experienced due to sleep deprevation were pretty cool. And, as long as you're not operating any machinery, I don't think it's nearly as dangerous as drugs. Hike at your own risk though.
- Some people have already asked me why I do these types of things. Hey, it may seem stupid, but in my mind, this sort of thing builds confidence that I can handle the setbacks that may occur on an expedition. That's a good enough answer for me.
Photos are at:
http://piotrowski.smugmug.com/gallery/2438404
