Mount Whitney - Success at Last
We were back again, a year later, for another try at summiting Mount Whitney.
We drove from San Diego back to Horseshoe Meadow and camped at the Cottonwood Lakes trailhead. It was nice to stay on a different side of the campground for once. That night we sat at the picnic table, eating a real dinner (not just dehydrated food) and talking about life. I felt calm, like we were starting fresh.
We started hiking in morning. The trail felt familiar at first, since we had been there two weeks earlier. The air smelled so good—like pine and cool mountain mornings. We stopped for lunch above Cottonwood Lake #3, watching chipmunks dart around while the water sparkled in the sun. My backpack was still bugging me, so we kept adjusting it, but I pushed on.
When we reached Lake #4, we found a grassy spot near the water and set up our tent. My dad even went for a freezing swim, and we cracked each other up by the water.
Later, the wind kicked up and rain pushed us into the tent, but when it calmed down, we went out to watch the lake in twilight. Tomorrow we’d climb Old Army Pass, and I couldn’t stop staring at it across the water.
The next morning, the climb up Old Army Pass was steep, but not as challenging as we thought it would be. We got into a rhythm and before long we were at the top, where the wind almost knocked us over. It felt like such an accomplishment.
On the way down we met a British couple, Mike and Toni, who were hiking the John Muir Trail. They were funny and adventurous, and we ended up seeing them at camp the next two nights. It was cool to feel part of the trail community.
At Rock Creek we found a good spot near the water to set up our tent. We soaked our feet in the cold water and just sat by the creek for hours. I thought about how much stronger I felt than last year.
The next morning, we climbed over Guyot Pass and camped at Crabtree Meadows. We were making good time, so we spent more time relaxing and soaking in the creek before heading to bed.
After a good night’s sleep, we then moved on toward Guitar Lake. Last year, these miles felt endless, but this time I felt confident. We found a quiet tarn above Guitar Lake where it was just us, with Mount Whitney looming above.
That day was one of my favorites—we talked, took photos, and just enjoyed being together. I spent hours watching the insects in the water. It looked like several different kinds. When I got home, I looked it up. They were different stages of the same insect, the caddisfly, an insect found all over in stream and lakes.
As the sun set, the whole basin glowed. We set the alarm for 4:30 AM, knowing tomorrow was summit day.
I woke up to lights on the mountain. They were climbers’ headlamps, switchbacking up the trail we’d be before long.
We started hiking at dawn. The climb was steep, but we kept moving, stopping when we needed to. We made great time. It was amazing to be standing at the same spot we were last year.
The side of the mountain felt like the moon. Aside from some lichen and some ravens, it seemed like nothing could live here. The trail was made up of large slabs of granite with coarse gravel in between.
Finally, we saw the hut. The summit.
I couldn’t believe it. We were standing on top of the tallest mountain in the lower 48 states! Dad hugged me, and I felt so proud. We signed the register and texted Mom from the top.
We stayed on top for an entire hour, enjoying the view, but eyeing the weather.
On the way down, I was able to say hello to a deer near a place called Outpost Camp. She was used to people, so she didn’t run away.
A storm chased and caught us with rain and hail, but by then I didn’t even care. We had done it. We could see the parking lot and trailhead below for several hours, but the trail went on and on.
We reached the car exhausted but so happy.
This trip was more than just checking off Mount Whitney. It was about trying again, fixing mistakes, and getting stronger. I’ll never forget standing on that summit with my Dad. We had worked together and made a great team.
