Outdoor Life

Mt Whitney

What do you say when a friend calls and asks if you want to climb Mt Whitney with her? You say yes. You don’t think about how high it is, how long the trail is, the dangerous weather or snow conditions. You just say yes. Absolutely, yes.

It was 2013 and I was working on climbing 30 mountains before I turned 30 years old. My BFF in California scored some permits for September and thought that I might want to add the highest mountain in the lower-48 to my list. I hadn’t really considered it before, but of course I was in. I booked a flight to LA and then did a little research. I found that the Mt Whitney Trail is not technical (when there is no snow present) but climbs 11 miles and 6000ft from the trailhead at Whitney Portal to an altitude of 14,500 feet and we were doing this all in one day. Yikes!

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I really didn’t know if I would be able to do it, but I was going to try. I was also nervous about the altitude since I hadn’t climbed higher than about 12,000 feet and that was when I was acclimatized. But I just decided to take it one step at a time and evaluate how I was feeling. If I didn’t make it to the top, I didn’t make it to the top, no big deal. It would still be an amazing trip.

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So I hopped on a plane and stuck my head to the window looking at the Sierra below and wondering what it would be like at the top of Whitney. Then we packed in the car and headed north to Lone Pine. The one horse town sits on a plateau at the base of the Sierra Nevada mountains near the Alabama Hills. It’s picturesque location is famous for the many western movies shot there. I remember our dinner that night like it was yesterday. We sat outside and looked up at the mountains. I had butterflies in my stomach and a big smile on my face. I couldn’t wait to climb the mountain the next day.

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We awoke in the dark and checked and rechecked our packs then headed up to Whitney Portal around 4am. In single file we trudged up the trail. For a few hours all I could see was the gravel of endless switchbacks and my boots lit up by my headlamp. Eventually the trail flattened a bit and we got to a stream. I looked up at the sky and saw nothing but stars. I will never forget the moment I switched off my headlamp, looked up at the endless stars, the water gently trickling nearby.

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Then we began to climb more. We were at about 11,000 feet when we stopped for a break and a snack. I was not feeling great and was starting to worry about the altitude. I was hoping it was just nerves. I forced down a sammy jammy and lots of water and continued on. Not long after that we began to see the sun rising. We reached a basin with a lake (where many people camp) just as the ramparts of Whitney and others around lit up in alpenglow. I couldn’t believe my eyes, it seemed like some kind of magic. We stood, huddled together for warmth as we watched in awe as the sunlight painted the mountains orange.

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Now finally being able to use my preferred sense of sight, I got a boost of energy. We could now see the clear switchbacks that tracked up seemingly unclimbable jagged peaks. This is when the altitude really kicked in. My head began to thump and it felt like it was blowing up like a balloon, it was also much harder to catch my breath. We slowed down dramatically here. Take a few steps, stop. Take a few steps, stop. I was so thankful for the switchbacks with their gentle grade. We passed some young men working on the trail with tools. I knew they carried those tools up there and I couldn’t even begin to fathom it.

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At the top of the switchback section, the trail begins a long traverse across a row of pinnacles and then gradually climbs once more to the broad summit. Along the traverse, the trail fell away thousands of feet between the tall pinnacles. It is not particularly dangerous if you stay on the trail, but I definitely scooted across them being sure to not look down. Once back on solid ground, it’s not far to he summit. Many people were coming down and encouraging us, announcing “you’re almost there!” I got another boost of energy, so excited to see the ugly shelter and to actually make it to the top!

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We signed the register, took many pictures, woofed down some snickers bars and took a nice long nap in the sun. We chatted with others from all over the world and snapped group photos for them. I could not believe that we were at the top of the highest point in the lower 48! And better yet, I got there with my friends.

Trailblazers

Claire Marie Hodges

In 1918, Claire Marie Hodges applied to be a ranger at Yosemite National Park. It was near the end of World War I and Claire saw that the park was struggling to find men to work as rangers. The story goes that she said to the park superintendent, “I know you will he laugh at me, but I want to be a ranger.” The superintendent replied that he beat her to it and that he was meaning to hire a woman to patrol. It was then that Claire became the first ever female National Park ranger at the age of 18.

Claire was born in Santa Cruz in 1890 and fell in love with the Yosemite valley when she was a young girl. She spent four days there with her family when she was 14 and later returned to be a school teacher in the valley. Visitors where surprised to see a woman ranger on the trail, dressed in a park service uniform complete with a Stetson hat and a split skirt. But she was just as capable as the men and completed the same tasks as them. Her time as a ranger did not last long but she held the distinction as the only female National Park ranger for a whopping 30 years. She was certainly ahead of her time and we still aren’t there yet. Only about a third of the current rangers are women and most are confined to the desk jobs. Claire is an inspiration to anyone of any gender to follow their passions and to go out and get that job you want even if no one like you has done it before.

More info about Claire Marie Hodges:
“Yosemite Clare” Hodges: The First Female Park Ranger in Campfire Chronicles
Claire Marie Hodges, First Female National Park Ranger in Adventure Journal

Road Trip

Big Sur

My oldest sister lives in Monterey, California and by about mid-March I feel a strong urge to escape the gray clouds and rain of Seattle and get some sunshine and sister time. This year my husband and I both made the trip and my sister and her boyfriend took us car camping in Big Sur. We arrived early on a Saturday morning, crammed our stuff into the already jam-packed SUV and stopped at Trader Joes to stock up on food. Now the vehicle is officially at max cargo capacity. I’m comfortably snuggled between old cook pots, paper towels, my backpack and Trader Joe’s wraps and honey wheat pretzels as we cross the Bixby Bridge and wind down the Pacific Coast Highway, one of the most beautiful highways on the planet.

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We set up camp at Ventana nestled in the shadows of giant redwoods along a babbling brook. My jaw drops at the shear size of the tent that will be our home for two days. I’m even more blown away by my sister’s nylon palace that dwarfs her 6 foot tall boyfriend. I realize later that these tents are actually smaller than average based on the mega tents we see popping up in other spots. My husband blows up our queen size air mattress (!) that fits with room to spare in the tent while I check out the nicest outdoor bathrooms I’ve ever seen and with showers (!). We northerners are not used to such luxuries.

By now the clouds are burning off and it’s time to explore. We first head to McWay Falls, the classic overhead view of a majestic waterfall crashing onto the beach of a aqua blue cove. We then head across the street to the Ewoldsen Trail. The wooded trail follows a small creek up to an open meadow overlooking the ocean with orange and purple wildflowers. Some young spring breakers catch up to us and yell to each other, “we NEED to go down to that meadow!” They run down the spur trail and we watch as they take selfies in the flowers. Another girl passes us carrying a beautiful crown of fresh lupines. We continue along the trail now through a high stand of gnarled  oak trees interspersed with the tops of redwoods and return to the creek, the coolness of the water refreshing us. That night the guys made us tri-tip steak with fresh salad and a fancy delicious red wine. Later we sipped cold beers, roasted marshmallows and ate at least three s’mores a piece.

The next morning it was raining and we slept in. Upon finally rolling out of the tent my sister had coffee and chocolate chip cookies waiting for us from the Big Sur Bakery. She made us a delicious egg scramble with sharp cheddar and avocado and then we hit the trail. The day’s goal was the Tin House, an abandoned house made of tin perched high up on the jagged mountains. The house was built in 1944 and was apparently abandoned after one night because the tin was too noisy. But like most of these kind of hikes, the journey was more exciting than the destination.

                   

We climbed through a redwood forest recovering from a burn in 2008, the trail lined with sorrel, red columbine and starflower, plants I recognized from the northwest. Somehow we got on a wrong trail and climbed higher and higher through increasing brushy terrain to an old homestead. We couldn’t see the views since we were in a rain cloud, but I bet they were spectacular. We retraced our steps and found the main trail to the tin house. The collapsing and burnt structure is really an eye sore but it provided shelter while we ate our Big Sur Bakery chocolate chip cookies. Someone left a journal and a pencil for visitors to leave notes. We thumbed through, contributed some words and continued on the trail.

As we descended it began to rain again, the redwoods mysteriously standing guard in the fog seemingly protecting us. As we get farther down the rain let up and the sun began to poke out of the clouds. We turned a corner and the trees gave way to stunning views of the coast line.

To close the loop we crossed the highway and stopped to rest at a pull-off parking lot. As we nibbled on snacks a giant of a bird flew down toward us and soared right over our heads. I pointed out the clearly visible number on its wing as a nearby tourist told us it was a California condor. The condor went extinct in the wild in 1987 but have since been reintroduced and now over 200 live in California.

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We stumbled back to the car after a long day of hiking. We showered and went out for a nice dinner at the Big Sur Roadhouse complete with champagne toasts. We skipped dessert though, we still had more s’mores to make over the campfire. They sure do know how to camp in California. I fear that our humble lightweight backpacking tent and sleeping pads will disappoint us on our next car camping trip. But when we grow too weary of our meager set-up we will return to the redwoods to be pampered once again.

More info about Big Sur:

Hiking in Big Sur

 

Hikes Featured in this Post:

McWay Falls, Julia Pfieffer Burns State Park

Ewoldsen Trail, Julia Pfieffer Burns State Park

Tanbark Trail & Tin House, Big Sur