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Tag: Mt. Whitney

  • Washington Trip

    Washington Trip

    We’re heading to Seattle for me meeting at the American Orthopaedic Association. This first flight for Daphney goes well, and she isn’t the least bit bothered by the cabin pressure changes.

    Aside from the meetings, Seattle brings us great opportunities for sightseeing. Daphney gets her first rental car ride. She visits the original Starbucks. We have breakfast at Lowell’s and do more touristy things. We bring her to the Space Needle and nearby Chihuly Garden and Glass. The after dinner hike up to Kerry Park gives us that expansive view of Seattle’s skyline.

    Then, we visit nearby national parks: Mt. Rainier and the Olympics. Our trip to Mt. Rainier National Park marks Daphney’s second month. Then, taking the ferry to Bainbridge Island, we tour the northern part of the Olympic Peninsula. We enjoy lunch at the Oak Table Café in Sequim, catch up with friends, and tour lavender fields. Then, we journey to Hurricane Ridge, where I run into a former resident, Chad Harbour, and his family. Lake Crescent Lodge has the most beautiful dining views. At the end of the day, we take the short hike to Sol Duc Falls, where triple waterfalls cascade over rock outcroppings.

    We wake up on our last morning to the view of a lovely sunrise over a calm sound, silhouetted by Mt. Baker in the far distance.

  • High Sierra Trail: Day 7

    High Sierra Trail: Day 7

    Preparations  |  Day 1  |  Day 2  |  Day 3  |  Day 4  |  Day 5  |  Day 6  |  Day 7  |  Day 8

    Day 7

    The alpenglow foreshadows the glorious day this will be. Hovering above the Great Western Divide, just before sunrise, the band of orange sky washes the entire landscape in a warm hue, in absolute contrast to the nippy cold air. The pinkish color of the meadow’s grass looks a bit strange.

    Of my group, I’m the first to get up. Soon, the rest are up as well, and we have a quick breakfast. I lean on the backrest rock that Mark picked out—he has an obsession about finding good backrests—and have the usual morning French press coffee while watching the sky turn from orange to blue.

    Then, it’s wag bag time. The packet is pretty well-designed, complete with toilet paper, hand sanitizer, and chemicals. These chemicals, supposedly for odor control, don’t work well. Neither does the outer zip-lock bag; we will be haunted for the rest of the trip.

    Just before leaving camp, a doe wanders near the inlet creek to Guitar Lake, saunters over to shore, and takes a few sips. Then she grazes peacefully along the bank. I pull out my zoom lens for the second time and catch a few shots. I tell myself that using the zoom only twice in a trip gives me pause; maybe I should just leave it behind next time.

    Although this is the earliest that we’ve gotten ready, we’re about the last one making it out of camp. The other campers already struck out early for the summit bid. Mickey takes the lead while I bring up the rear. Wanting an action shot, I run ahead, scramble up some switchbacks, and get some shots. Mark and I fill up from the last water source before the long climb, chugging a cold liter and topping off our supplies. Standing in the shadows of Whitney and filled on the inside with snowmelt, we’re both freezing. Mark decides to hike fast, and we both scuttle up the trail. About two-thirds the way up to Trail Crest, the first rays of sun peek through but play hide-and-seek among rock spires. Mark had made an appointment with Lucas, his co-resident of the same year, where between 9:55 and 10:05, they would try to make radio contact. I somehow have a sense that it’s nearly 10:00, so I pull out my watch—the other unused luxury item that I will most likely leave behind next time. It’s 9:58! Mark turns on his radio. “Lucas, Lucas. This is Mark.” No response.

    We make it to the junction and empty the heavy items out of our packs: tent, pots, bear canisters, trash. I arrange the wag bag sack over our stash and rope everything together, hopefully dissuading any would-be thieves. Soon, the rest of the team joins us, and we head off for the summit.

    Mark is anxious to make contact with Lucas. Before the trip, he had planned to join us on the summit, coming up from the eastern side, since he was unable to take the entire week off for the long backpacking trip. That’s why, as a backup plan, I got the permit for seven people to include him and his wife, Ashlene. I would later find out that he had called the Ranger Station in Lone Pine, and they said it would be perfectly fine for them to not get their own permit and just tag on to us.

    Just beyond Trail Crest, we head up the main trail to the summit. After a few hundred yards, between the needles, we catch a good view of the Owens Valley. “We can see our destination!” I tell Mark. It almost feels like setting sail and finding land months later. I ask him to try the radio again, since we now have line-of-sight contact with the eastern side of the range.

    “Lucas. Lucas. This is Mark.”

    “This is Mark and Danny,” I prompted. He’s still not used to calling me anything.

    “Lucas. Lucas. This is Mark … and Danny.”

    Finally, there’s a reply! We find out that Lucas and Ashlene are still below Trail Camp, and it would be a few hours before they make it up to Trail Crest. We proceed toward the summit, and from there, we radio again. They are now about halfway up the switchbacks. Mark wants to wait for Lucas to join him at the summit; during the past several days, he’s been really looking forward to sharing such a moment. I don’t think the timing will work out.

    The five of us—Wayne, Mark, Mickey, Mike, and I—take in the views at Mt. Whitney summit. Wayne tries to see if Heather will pick him up a day early. Mark lets his dad know that he wants to take him backpacking and fishing. He tells Sarah he misses her: “I’m supposed to say that the ring is hanging by my heart.” I sense Sarah smiling, and I ask Mark to say hi to Sarah and his dad. I wanted to wish his parents a blessed Sabbath afternoon, but cell reception and battery life are precious up here. For some reason, I have no signal. Lucas radios back, saying that he and Ashlene, now further up the switchbacks, are turning back on the trail; they are feeling the effects of mountain sickness. After getting our summit picture, we decide it is time to head down so that we can make it to camp before it gets too late.

    Anxious to see Lucas, Mark bounces down the trail. He’s hard to keep up with, but I try to follow closely behind. We repack our belongings at the junction and climb over Trail Crest. The way down the switchbacks is pure drudgery, but Mark marvels at the skilled trail building. We’re looking back at the gnarly face of the mountain flanked by spires and needles as they claw at the sky, and Mark tells me that he now realizes Mt. Whitney is a legitimate mountain. It had never occurred to him that it was a serious climb, both up and down, but today, he feels that he really had to work to stand on top of it.

    “I think I’m turning into a backpacker,” Mark says, “from a mountaineer to a backpacker.”

    Mark used to be part of the mountain search and rescue team in New Mexico, and he prides himself in being a serious mountaineer. So, after thinking about what he just said, I ask, “Are you saying ‘backpacker,’ like in a pejorative sense?”

    “It’s not pejorative. I like backpacking.”

    “Yeah, like from mountaineering to backpacking, a downgrade, right?”

    Mark denies it, and not wanting to press any further, I drop the issue.

    We make it down where we can see people more clearly at Trail Camp. Lucas and Ashlene are supposed to wait for us here and hike down together. As we near the end of the switchbacks, I speak loudly, asking Mark if they will be able to see us on the trail. Upon hearing his name, Lucas jumps up and waves to us, and Mark, with much élan, dashes down the trail. He’s been waiting for this reunion moment.

    It’s great to meet up with Lucas and Ashlene. After leaving a week ago and not knowing exactly how the permit situation will work out, it’s hard to imagine this moment. Ashlene had brought these amazing homemade fig bars; these are a welcome treat after being out for so many days.

    “Mark, what was it that you’re supposed to tell Lucas?”

    “Lucas, I’m supposed to tell you that Danny is inept at making coffee using the French press.”

    We all have a great laugh—Lucas hearing the awkwardness in it, and Mark still not comfortable after having rehearsed this line several times.

    Unlike Mark, Lucas immediately gets the hint and jumps at the opportunity: “So, I see that you and Danny bonded during the hike.” Mark grins at that comment.

    After the others catch up, Mickey and Mark head down the trail first. I hike with Lucas and Ashlene, catching up on details of their trek up to this point. On a rocky knoll just above Mirror Lake, Lucas throws up. He’s sick from the altitude. Feeling better after losing his lunch, we make it to camp. Lucas crawls into his tent, and that would be the last time we see him that afternoon.

    Dinner is French onion soup and mac and cheese with broccoli. Mark had been looking forward to this meal for the last several days, talking about how he was craving mac and cheese. Out here, there’s nothing like comfort food. I clean up while Mark prides himself at making dinner all by himself. He melts the cheese in the soup. He boils the macaroni and wastes fuel in the process. I return just in time for dinner to be ready. Hot cheesy soup on this cold evening hits the spot, as does the mac and cheese. Ashlene has some soup as well. After dinner, while organizing the trash, I find the four packets of unused Tabasco sauce. It was supposed to be for the mac and cheese. Mark feels bad, having taken pride in making dinner and now realizing that he overlooked something. I pull out the food plan; the Tabasco sauce isn’t on there, so I tell him that it’s my fault for not putting it on the grid.

    We do our last night of dishes at the base of a tree not far from the stream. My fingers are frozen, so I’m glad that Mark is the one doing the dishes tonight. It’s getting dark, and I have to take several trips to get water. That’s because there’s no pink bucket to make warm water to do dishes in.

    I’m exhausted from the long hike today. While feeling triumphant for summiting Whitney, I’m also spent. It’s time to turn in early. Mark climbs into the tent first. Then, right at this point, the moon inches over the southeastern ridge. Soon, it fills the bowl of Outpost Camp and lights up the vertical granite slabs below Thor Peak as it stands sentinel over our tent. This is a glorious end to a spectacular day.

    « Day 6
    Day 8 »
    Pre-dawn sky, seen from Guitar Lake, looking toward the Great Western Divide
    View from Guitar Lake, taking in the alpenglow
    Mickey, Wayne, and Mike, having a hot breakfast on this cold morning
    Breaking camp at Guitar Lake, getting ready to hike up to Mt. Whitney summit
    Go anywhere toilet kit
    Hand sanitizer, toilet paper, and chemicals
    Double-knotted, nasty wag bag
    Deer wandering by Guitar Lake shoreline, just after we broke camp
    Early morning start, at the base of the switchbacks up to Mt. Whitney
    Mark bundled up on this cold hike up to Trail Crest from Guitar Lake
    Upper Hitchcock Lake in the background, along with Mt. Hitchcock, on the way to Trail Crest
    Replenishing, with toffee peanuts, on the switchbacks up to Trail Crest; Mt. Hitchcock and Hitchcock Lake in the background
    At the junction where we drop some of our pack contents
    With Wayne, Mickey, Mark, at the junction to the main Mt. Whitney trail
    On the way to Mt. Whitney summit
    Signed my name on the Mt. Whitney summit registry, behind Mark Anderson
    Standing on the highest point of the contiguous 48 states, at 14,505 ft (4,421 m)
    With Wayne, Mark, Mickey, and Mike, at the end of the Mt. Whitney trail
    On the Mt. Whitney trail, behind Keeler Needle
    On the Mt. Whitney trail, behind Keeler Needle
    Looking west toward Guitar Lake and the Great Western Divide beyond
    Meeting up at Trail Camp
    Meeting up at Trail Camp
    Along the Mt. Whitney trail, above Mirror Lake
    French onion soup, extra onions, melted cheese
    Macaroni and cheese, with veg bacon bits, broccoli
    Mark sterilizing water with the Steripen
    Glowing tent, in front of Thor Peak, at Outpost Camp, under a nearly full moon
  • High Sierra Trail: Day 4

    High Sierra Trail: Day 4

    Preparations  |  Day 1  |  Day 2  |  Day 3  |  Day 4  |  Day 5  |  Day 6  |  Day 7  |  Day 8

    Day 4

    I’m the first one up on this short rest day. The sky is clear, and I emerge from my tent in time to catch the first light on the distant mountains, where the rays paint the tops a fiery orange. Moraine Lake is a perfect mirror. I step onto the lakeshore to take pictures, tiptoeing between bear tracks that Mark pointed out to me the day before.

    Again, we have French press coffee. This is my second time using Mark’s JetBoil press device to make the coffee, and it comes out full of grounds. “Mark, why are all the grounds on top?” He examines the setup, and apparently I’d assembled the screen disk upside down. We both laugh at how inept I was at making coffee, and I know he’ll be telling his fellow residents how funny that was. Even until now, addressing me has been awkward, so it’s neither Dr. Wongworawat nor Danny, but the conversation just starts off. “So, when you see Lucas, you’re going to tell him, ‘Danny’s inept at making coffee with the French press.’” I make him practice saying that; maybe it’ll get better.

    Then, it’s oatmeal for breakfast. When I was planning our meals, I figured that nuts and seeds would be more calorie-dense, so the oatmeal is fortified with coconut, almonds, sunflower seeds, pumpkin seeds, along with cranberries for sweetness. It’s a hearty breakfast, but I soon find out that Mark doesn’t like seeds. Neither does he like the lighter roast coffee. Anyways, he’ll have to manage for the rest of the trip.

    After breakfast, we hang out by the lake, taking in the warming sun. I switch to contacts and sunglasses. On the boulder where we made breakfast, a Sierra Nevada frog emerges. It’s nearly camouflaged and no bigger than half the size of my thumb. I think this species is endangered, and yet, we’re lucky to see the little creature.

    Soon, we take off on the trail. Shortly after rounding the bend just east of the lake, we try to look for Whitney summit. The map and compass give us confirmation, and between the trees, the climax of our trip is clearly visible. It’s visible again from Sky Parlor Meadow, though for now, we have to descend further into the Kern Canyon.

    At the trail’s bend where it runs parallel with Chagoopa Creek, Wayne spots a bear from behind, drops his pack, and lingers to catch more glimpses. Mickey traipses through a fern field that is beginning to display some fall color. Meanwhile, Mike and Mark are ahead. We soon catch up to them as they wait by the Funston Creek ford. While Mark wants to wait until we descend to the Kern Canyon floor before breaking out lunch, I’m starving and insist that he not ration food. I eat a couple pomegranate-glazed pistachios, and I’m happy.

    The descent is treacherous. We pass through some burn areas, and throughout this section, we keep our eyes peeled for rattlesnakes, since there have been reported sightings. The trail switchbacks and crosses Funston Creek several times before ending on the canyon floor. Having held out for lunch, since there was an earlier ration, I anxiously anticipate a flowing stream and a beautiful meadow by which to have lunch. It wouldn’t turn out that way, though. Instead, we hit what the trail crew calls the “Trail of Tears”—through scree and talus fields flanking the west side of the meadow, far from the Kern River itself. We decide to push onward for nearly a mile, and we eventually find relief below Chagoopa Falls, where the cool stream washes away what that trail section did to our feet and spirits.

    After lunch, Mark takes off first. He wants to get to Kern Hot Spring to soak his feet. The rest of us take our time. Beyond a carpet of manzanita bushes, the trail leads to a footbridge. Trail crew are there doing maintenance. Mickey asks one of them to explain that scree section below Chagoopa Falls. “Oh yea, that’s known as the ‘Trail of Tears.’ It took us four years to build each mile, hammering out each little rock from the blue granite. That blue granite is really really hard.” Apparently, the old wooden boardwalks through meadows would wash out or rot, and this is probably a better long term option.

    Just beyond Kern Hot Spring, we find nice campsites. Knowing that the sun would disappear rather quickly since we’re in a deep canyon, I head down to the hot spring area to take a bath. The tub itself is rather low on water, and the inlet and outlet look like they could be teeming with coliform bacteria. I pass on the hot bath, and instead, take a plunge into the churning Kern. It’s refreshing. Mark finds an area to do laundry, a place that he describes as the power wash cycle. Soon, everything is hanging out to dry.

    I hike back to the tub to take pictures. There are bumblebees among the wildflowers. Below, I find Mickey and Wayne soaking blissfully in the warm pool. What E. coli? Just a few feet away, the Kern River roars down the canyon between boulders and rock piles.

    Mark is off with his rod and reel. He catches one, and I offer to prepare it. I have the kitchen pack of coarse sea salt, cracked pepper, lemon, garlic, and fresh thyme and oregano that I had picked the day we left home. It’s my first time gutting fish, and I felt strange sticking the blade into the fish’s throat and belly. After cleaning, I salt and pepper the fish and stuff it with garlic slices and minced herbs. I thread a green fir branch through its mouth and out the tail. Meanwhile, Mark is getting a second catch; he later says that he wanted to have two fish, since that would make a better picture. It’s getting dark, though, almost too dark for a picture. I wonder to myself if Mark knows the difference between civil, nautical, and astronomical twilight.

    The angler returns with another fish just as I finish making the minestrone soup and boiling the tortellini. He helps me drain the water and add fresh tomatoes, capers, oregano, salt, pepper, and olive oil. There is just enough light for a few pictures of the meal. Click, click, click. Taking pictures of the fish, though, was a disappointment. So, the pressure is on for Mark to catch more later on in the trip.

    After sipping hot chocolate and having tiramisu around the warm campfire, Wayne teaches us how to play Rook with his deck of cards. What a great way to end our short hiking day.

    « Day 3
    Day 5 »
    View across the lake, with first light of dawn touching off distant mountain tops
    Tent nestled in the trees, by Moraine Lake
    Oatmeal with coconut, cranberries, and seeds
    Reflections
    Calm lake in the early morning, after sunrise, with reflected mountains
    Calm lake in the early morning, after sunrise, with reflected mountains
    Glasses, contact lens case
    At Moraine Lake
    Sierra Nevada Yellow-Legged Frog
    Just about ready to head out from Moraine Lake
    Looking up at Whitney from beside Moraine Lake
    View of Mt. Whitney from Sky Parlor Meadow
    Hiking along a bed of fern turned golden in the late summer
    View of the Kern Canyon and Upper Funston Meadow on the descent from Chagoopa Plateau
    Where we stopped for lunch
    At Chagoopa Creek, where we stopped for lunch
    At Chagoopa Creek, after lunch of flatbread, hummus, olives, pistachios
    At Chagoopa Creek, where we stopped for lunch
    Flowing Chagoopa Creek, along the trail
    Crossing the Kern River
    Crossing the Kern River on the footbridge
    Washing up in the Kern River
    Near Kern Hot Spring, along the Kern River
    Pile of clothes, after being washed in the Kern River
    Sitting next to the Kern River, near the Kern Hot Spring
    After cleaning up and hanging up the clothes to dry
    Bumblebee among the yellow flowers next to the Kern Hot Spring
    Asters growing next to Kern Hot Spring
    In Kern Hot Spring
    Kern River near our campsite by Kern Hot Spring
    Mark having caught trout
    Lemon, thyme, and garlic for the trout
    Garlic and lemon herb, salt, pepper
    Stuffed trout with garlic lemon thyme on a stick
    Dinner at Kern Hot Spring
    Three cheese tortellini, fresh tomatoes, oregano, aged Parmesan, capers, olive oil, salt, cracked black pepper
    Lady fingers, espresso, chocolate, and vanilla cream pudding
  • High Sierra Trail: Preparations

    High Sierra Trail: Preparations

    Preparations  |  Day 1  |  Day 2  |  Day 3  |  Day 4  |  Day 5  |  Day 6  |  Day 7  |  Day 8

    Before the trip

    It’s all about the luxury items.

    The scale is actually quite ruthless, and ever since Brad convinced me to try using it before our trip to Rainier, I’ve been letting the scale make most decisions. The pack weighs 1191 g, the sleeping bag 1038 g; and the second shirt 156 g. In total, my pack’s base weight, sans food and water, is 29 lbs. That’s including my luxury items—all the camera stuff, with the body, lens, tripod, and other accessories, making up the extra 7.5 lbs.

    But the scale doesn’t really decide our luxury items. I can’t part with my camera. Mark, third year orthopaedic resident, packs fishing tackle and extra fuel to make warm water for baths. I convince him to leave behind his pillow and the ugly pink emesis basin, which he wanted to use for doing dishes and taking warm baths.

    The daily ration of food is set out according to the hiking and eating plan—affectionately dubbed “the grid” by Kevin, then a third-year resident, on our Thousand Island Lake trip. Each meal is carefully packed into bear canisters. Mark suggests we bring fresh produce, so we include lettuce, red peppers, cabbage, kale, a tomato, lemons, herbs, garlic, an onion, and a carrot.

    Mark offers to carry the pots while I carry the tent. I figure that’s a fair trade, even though the tent weighs twice the pots. In the end, with the bulky bear canisters full of food and hydration sacks full of water, our packs turned out to be the same weight.

    This whole trip started because of Mickey, Medical Coordinator of Addiction Treatment Program at the Loma Linda VA Hospital. For the last few years, Mickey and I had discussed this trip; it had been on his bucket list. Then back in February, we met and simply set the date. My resident, Mark, was one of the first to confirm. I applied for and got our first choice for permit dates. Over the next few months, our group size grew to include two members of the Preventive Medicine Department: Wayne, Chair, and Mike, Residency Program Director.

    Hans, Director of the Masters of Science in Orthopaedics and Prosthetics Program, had graciously offered to drive us up to Visalia. We have known each other for twenty years, when we first met to finish the lacquer coat on my lute using his HVLP spray gun. His wife, Mary Ann, was in my med school class.

    We all convene at Mickey’s house. First, there are introductions: Mickey, Wayne, Mike, Hans, and Mark. Mickey shows off his little waterproof notepad; he’s going to jot down thoughts while on the trail. The overhead carrier and the back of the car are overstuffed with backpacking gear, but it all fits. During the four-hour drive north, we share a little about ourselves.

    In Visalia, we check in at the Hampton Inn and spend the night. Since the continental breakfast line doesn’t open until 6:00, Mark and I have an early in-room breakfast that we prepared ahead of time: apples and coffee from the hotel, hard-boiled eggs from home, and coffee cake with trail mix.

    We’re all ready when the shuttle arrives in front of our hotel, right on the dot, at 6:07.

    Onboard, Mark explains to us that he is wearing his wedding band on a cord hung around his neck. He makes a phone call to his wife Sarah to tell her that. Mickey will later correct him: “You’re supposed to say that the ring is hanging in by my heart.” I snap a picture of Mark on the phone with the ring on a rope and send it to Sarah.

    After winding up the mountain, we step into the Lodgepole Ranger Station’s backcountry office. Ranger Ben gives us all the regulations, and I pull the permit for 7 hikers, because Lucas and Ashlene couldn’t make it for this first part of the hike but will join us later. Mark takes pictures—later to be lost—of the fact sheet depicting fishes that are protected below 9,000 ft. Ranger Ben didn’t seem to concerned anyways: “Read this, and you’re on your own out there.” As we turn to leave, he says, “Oh, I almost forgot. You guys will be in the Whitney zone, so here are wag bags. Take a few extra.” We all dread when we will have to use and carry them out.

    From Lodgepole, the driver takes us directly to Crescent Meadow, putting us there 45 minutes ahead of schedule. We’re now all set for what would be an epic hike across two major mountain passes, Kaweah Gap in the Great Western Divide and Trail Crest along Mt. Whitney’s ridgeline, traversing 72 miles to end up at Whitney Portal. I have my camera ready, and Mark wields his fishing pole and totes comfort fuel.

    Day 1 »
    Drying broccoli, mushrooms, tofu on bamboo basket
    Food laid out in the grid, breakfast, lunch, dinner, dessert
    The food grid for each meal and day of our hike
    Bear canisters filled with food
    Backpack all packed
    Getting everything to fit in Hans’s Land Rover, at Mickey’s house
    At the Lebec rest area, with Hans
    Having our own breakfast at the Hampton Inn
    Taking a break at the Foothills Visitor Center
    Getting instructions from the ranger about backcountry regulations
    Mark Anderson waiting outside the ranger station
    At Lodgepole, waiting for the shuttle to take us to Crescent Meadow
  • Horseshoe Meadow to Whitney Portal

    Horseshoe Meadow to Whitney Portal

    The trip began on September 15. After spying Whitney summit from the Lone Pine Ranger Station, Ryan and I got car shuttled to Horseshoe Meadow. From there, our trip took us to Chicken Spring Lake, Guyot Creek and Pass, Crabtree Meadow, and Guitar Lake. We had the most spectacular sunset at Guitar Lake, and the next morning, the full moon dropped below the Great Western Divide. Then, we approached Trail Crest. From there, we dropped our packs and summitted. After spending the night at Outpost Camp, we headed out to meet our car at Whitney Portal.