Quick Stats: 12.3 Miles & 6,415′ gain via the Final 400 from the Mountaineers Route starting at Whitney Portal.
It was Friday August 26th; we had wrapped up our Rock Creek adventure and were making our way to Whitney Portal as quickly as possible knowing that we planned to wake up sometime around midnight to climb Tumanguya (Mount Whitney) via the Mountaineers Route in a day. We snaked our way up Whitney Portal Road in the waning sunlight, stopping briefly by the side of the road to change into comfortable sleepwear and situate Alyx, and then pulled into a spot right at the start of the trail– Princess parking for us as we settled in for the night.
We set the alarm for 12:30 AM which would have given us about 4 hours of sleep, but neither of us slept well with the hustle and bustle of Whitney Portal. We would have been better off with our original plan of sleeping down the road and parking at the start of our adventure, but it was too late for that. We got ready in near record time for us, and we had planned for success: I would carry the one pack between us to make sure there was nothing that could get in Frankie’s way; we packed a stove and meals incase we felt like we needed more fuel along the way; and we were on the trail by 12:45 to end our summer adventures atop the highest point in the contiguous USA.
Compared to our previous attempt together, and compared to a lot of our adventures in general, we were making excellent time. In the black of night we made it over the Ebersbacher Ledges (which I find easier to navigate in the dark), past Lower Boy Scout Lake, and beyond Upper Boy Scout Lake before we even saw a hint of morning.
It was around here that we encountered a group that we would leapfrog with throughout the day– it was a guided climb with 4 or so guests and their guide. Our first encounter with them was strange as the guide said, “We saw you two earlier. You were on the other side of Upper Boy Scout– you were all over the place.”
Um, no you didn’t as we completely skirted around Upper Boy Scout, but whatever– it was too early for his nonsense. Further along the moraine we passed them as they took a break after having only been gone from camp for 45 minutes. We continued our trek in the twilight with our objective coming into view– we even had a special treat in the form of seeing a headlamp at the top.
We stayed pretty low on the moraine compared to every other ascent I’ve made, which makes for a much easier time. Instead of some dicey scramble to get up to Iceberg Lake, we had a steep use trail which we used last time for our descent (not the ascent) that makes things a lot easier. As we got above the moraine and arrived at Iceberg Lake, we were now basking in Alpenglow. This wasn’t like previous adventures where we watched the sunrise from the E Ledges; instead we were taking a nice break at 12,600′ and were a part of the alpenglow that people in Lone Pine were admiring with their morning coffee.
We continued up past Iceberg Lake and into the couloir, opting for a different line than before. The last time we were here we kept to Climber’s Right for some fun scrambling, but this time we stayed to Climber’s Left for the lower portion in an effort to save time and energy. Further up we started to veer toward the right to the ledges, and eventually found ourselves on a nice ledge for a break.
As an interruption to our calm break, the leapfrog group caused a giant rockfall further down– luckily they were all okay, but I would like to make a little PSA. Remember kids: Always wear your brain bucket. ALWAYS.
Breaktime was over, and we were back to scrambling up the chute, looking for the path of least resistance the entire time. By 9:20 AM we were at an eleavtion of 14,150′ standing in The Notch; this marks the top of the couloir and the final part of your Tumanguya climb. This also marked Frankie’s elevation record, as her previous elevation record was the summit of Mount Russell at 14,094′. With every move higher she would be setting a new elevation record until reaching the summit.
We decided to take The Final 400 up rather than the North Face Traverse (“Easy Walk Off”), but I got a case of the Yips this time. I’ve climbed a quarter of this in my full shank winter boots (La Sportiva Nepals), and I climbed it (both up and down) a couple weeks ago in my 3/4 shank 3-season boots (La Sportiva Trangos). . . but this time we were both wearing backpacking boots (Salomon Quests). The first move on the Final 400 requires a foot jam, and in both pair of Sportivas I’ve had no issue with this. Today in my Quests my foot slid out as I was standing up. While you can’t even classify this as a fall (it’s just a really big step down), it got in my head and affected the initial part of our Final 400 climb; and also caused me to waste almost 40 minutes routefinding.
With my foot coming out of that jam, I was now second guessing my moves and my decision making; and I was trying hard to remember exactly the line I took down last time (following a guide on the 3rd class line). All the while I was also experiencing both physical and mental symptoms of anxiety. I kept trying to have Frankie and I keep as far to Climber’s Right as possible, but I wasn’t thinking clearly. We tried making our way up some narrow chimneys that were easily required 4th / 5th class moves, but I was obsessed with finding some way up that was in this area, convinced this is the 3rd class line when it obviously wasn’t. After a lot of climbing up and climbing down, I told Frankie how I was feeling frazzled from that slip, and she instructed me to take a deep breath and relax.
As soon as I did that my body started to relax and my head started to clear. A few more breaths in a still moment, and I was back to my usual self. I needed that, she knew it, and now I know when something like that happens to take a minute. I have no problem staying calm when others need help, and I’ve even stayed calm in insane situations I’ve been in on solo adventures; but this hit different for some reason. I was part it now, though. With my head right we could now find a line up. We stayed in the center of the Final 400 for the lower portion before making our way Climber’s Right and up toward the summit plateau of Tumanguya.
The cool thing about being at the top of The Final 400 is the summit hut is immediately visible, which is the clearest indication that you’re at the summit. A short walk and we were there, now sharing the same altitude record, and enjoying the views from 14,505′.
Well trying to, but the Tumanguya summit is a party in the summer. I don’t want to be that girl, but I definitely missed my winter ascents and the solitude that came with being the only person on the summit as the mountains peacefully rest beneath their blanket of snow.
After some photos and snacks, we were done. Time to make our way back down this mountain and back to Alyx. We opted for the Traverse back as neither of us felt like we were in the mood to downclimb The Final 400.
The Traverse is really simple to do, but not easy to follow what might be called the “right way.” At many times I found myself arriving at a cairn, only to noticed one both upslope and downslope from me. It didn’t matter really, but it did make me second guess whether we were on the safest line. That also didn’t matter as it’s stable enough that I wasn’t worried about us. A short while later we were back at The Notch, and then were making our way down the couloir.
It was toward the bottom of the climb that I had an experience that really pissed me off– so much that I sat down and made a quick Instagram Reel detailing my experience.
There was a guy below us in the Climber’s Right Chute (We were low enough in the couloir where there are two separate chutes) taking a break, not wearing clothing that looked appropriate for a climb, and with a head that was lacking a helmet. At one point he yells up to me and asks if I know where I’m going.
I talk a lot to people about what I call the “Erosion of my Male Privilege,” because it’s a thing. Being seen as a woman now means people treat me differently, talk to me differently, and act differently around me. I’ve had a lot of experiences where it’s assumed that I don’t know what I’m doing when I very much know more than the people around me. Case in point: This is my 4th summit of Tumanguya this year; 2nd in the summer; 2nd in the span of 2 weeks; I’m in the High Sierra mountaineering every other weekend; and I’m downclimbing, which means I had to have already gone up. This guy saw someone on a different line than him in a pink fleece and made one hell of an assumption, and that really got under my skin.
Sidebar: Later on I would have someone mansplain on Instagram why I was wrong to feel the way I did with this experience, but I view it the same way that I did when buying my winter mountaineering boots and having the clerk assume I was wearing them to Griffith Park in Los Angeles: Even if you think someone doesn’t know what they’re doing, there’s always a different way to approach it. To that sales associate at REI, why didn’t he ask “Where are you headed this winter?” instead of “Wearing those to Griffith Park?” If this guy in the couloir was concerned for me like a dad may be of his daughter (as the Insta commenter suggested), why didn’t he ask “how’s your climb going?” Framing it as I’m incompetent is misogynistic, but these people also just thing I’m too sensitive and will never actually examine their behavior.
I digress. Frankie and I made our way down to Iceberg Lake for a rest, then continued our journey down. Retracing our steps, we took the steep use trail down to the moraine, stayed low in the moraine on the use trail, made our way down past Upper Boy Scout, into the thicker air afforded by Lower Boy Scout, down the granite of the Ebersbacher Ledges, and finally off of the trail at Alyx while we still had daylight. Going into surgery soon I knew this might be my last adventure for a little while, and this was an absolutely fantastic way to send off my summer climbing season: With my 7th trip out of the Portal for my 5th attempt of Tumanguya and 4th successful summit.
The next time I’ll be in the High Sierra will be at the very tail end of the season, or maybe even the beginning of the winter climbing season. Climb on, with love.
