Quick Stats: 22.9 Miles & 11,017′ gain over 9 summits starting from the Hard Closure on Whitney Portal Road.
Where do I even begin? I’ll let this video show you the chaos before I write about it; and watching it on a larger screen is the best way to view it:
I am me, which means I will always look for crazier adventures. When I first saw Mount Whitney, I knew I would someday stand on that summit, but also knew I would someday hit all of the subpeaks you could see to climber’s left of it. When I first climbed Mount Whitney, I had gone with the intention of hitting the “needles,” but decided the euphoria of the Whitney summit and a new altitude record was enough.
Then I came back for more. I came with an ambitious itinerary: Heading up on Thursday, I would climb Mount Carillon and check to see if the East Ridge of Mount Russell is clear. Friday I would climb Mount Whitney, Mount Muir, and everything in between. Saturday I would climb Mount Russell if the route was clear. This was going to be my first multiple night winter trip, my first multiple night solo winter trip, my first time I felt certain I would successfully bag multiple summits in the High Sierra, and the first time I would attempt to navigate without someone else’s GPX loaded into my GPS.
I slept in my car overnight Wednesday night in order to give myself the best chance of success on that first day. I left Alyx early that morning, and my way up Whitney Portal Road. The route was significantly more dry than when I had climbed Mount Whitney a few weeks prior– the snow didn’t really start until a bit beyond the junction between the Mount Whitney Trail and the North Fork Lone Pine Creek “Trail.” While still good quality, the snow pack was thinning, but not so much that you were required to take the Ebersbacher Ledges up. (By the time I would descend in two days, enough snow had melted that I took the ledges down.) When I got to Lower Boy Scout Lake, the weather was looking a little ominous, and I was curious if I would (again) be in a situation where the weather on my way to Mount Whitney didn’t match the forecast. Not long after it cleared up, and I would have fantastic weather for the rest of my trip.
I decided to set camp at Upper Boy Scout Lake since this was pretty central to all of my goals, and once my camp was set, I started off for Russell Col. The notorious scree slog was replaced by a notorious snow climb this time of year, and having had a lot of time to bake in the sun, the snow wasn’t the best. I ended up alternating between keeping to the right for some 2nd class scrambling and scree slogging, and getting back into the snow. I kept an eye on a group of clouds that seemed to be building in the distance to the south, and while they kept growing and looking more ominous, I adopted the Valentine McKee school of thought: “I don’t care what they’re doing, as long as they’re doing it over there.”
When I got to the plateau leading to Russell Col, I decided to start scrambling from there directly up the South Face of Mount Carillon. I know that the West Ridge from Russell Col is 3rd class, but that south face is as well, and at the point I wanted to get to the fun part (rather than slog along the plateau to get to Russell Col).
After spending some time taking in the 360° views, I started to make my way back down those dreaded slopes, which would also take me to my first experience of being legitimately worried about being caught in an avalanche. The slope leading up to Russell Col is between 30° and 35°, which is prime avalanche terrain, and my first few steps at the top of the snowfield broke loose some slabs the size of drink coolers. I immediately climbed back up to the rocks and scree to try and get back to climber’s right where I could stay in thinner snow with the option to scramble. After scrambling down a significant portion, I got back into the snowfield to plunge step my way out of there and back to camp. After a nice dinner, a new entry in my silly instagram series, and plenty of water, I was in bed and ready for the crazy day.
I set out in the dark along the Mountaineers Route of Mount Whitney. Not far from Iceberg Lake is when the sun started to greet me, and I could get a good glimpse of many of the day’s objectives:
The sun had risen by the time I got to the couloir leading up to The Notch, but the snow quality was still solid the whole way. Compared to my last ascent, the couloir had a lot less snow, and I ended up getting the right side to do more scrambling rather than snow climbing. The forecast for the day said subzero temperatures at the Whitney summit & windy, and as I got closer to The Notch, it was clear this was accurate. Before I got to the top, I ended up wearing almost every piece of my personal kit to keep warm while I was moving. Normally things like my puffy are reserved for when I’m resting because it’s too warm otherwise, but not in this case– I was climbing in my whole kit.
As a fun sort of inventory, here’s what I was wearing starting from the bottom up:
- Feet: Sock liners, Smartwool Mountaineering Socks, Insulated Mountaineering Boots, and Crampons
- Lowerbody: Chonies, Base Layer Bottoms (Medium Weight), Soft Shell Pants, and Hard Shell Pants.
- Upperbody: Sports Bra, Base Layer Top (Medium Weight), Fleece Jacket, Soft Shell Jacket, and 800 Fill Puffy (with the hood on).
- On the Hands: Liner Gloves, and Insulated Gloves with Hand Warmers.
- Above the Neck: Wool Buff, Sun Buff, Wool Hat, Goggles, and Climbing Helmet.
What’s weird is the weather was like this for the upper part of the couloir, the Whitney summit plateau, and the summit; when I got to the other side of Whitney it actually felt kind of warm.
My original plan was to go around Mount Whitney’s summit plateau, start at Mount Muir, and then hit everything between Muir and Whitney. When I got to The Notch I could see that the Final 400 was still not completely dry, so I immediately opted for the north face traverse (aka “East Walk-off”). Side note: I still don’t know why people say you shouldn’t do this in the winter. It’s north facing, so the snow holds up well, and you also have a chance to self arrest in a worst cast scenario. If something happens on the Final 400, there’s no coming back from that; and with the icy snowy ledges, I’m good.
I digress. I decided to change plans and start with Keeler Needle and hit the needles on the way to Muir– this would mean I would spend the day with Mount Muir’s infamous summit block looming over me, but would also mean a growing sense of accomplishment as the day went on. All of the needles are somewhere between 2nd class and easy 3rd class, and offer absolutely stunning views! I highly recommend exploring these.
I hit all of them except one: S’brutal Tower. I skipped this because in Secor’s book he lists it as an easy walk up; however it looked like exposed 4th class at best, but is probably legit technical climbing. Finally I was standing at the base of Mount Muir’s summit block. I messaged Sarah to let her know that I was about to do something very risky, and that she will hear from me within an hour. (This of course is my subtle way of saying that if she _didn’t_ hear from me, something went horribly wrong.)
Mount Muir is definitely dangerous, but in the summer it’s much more doable. What makes it different in the winter? Winter mountaineering boots, which don’t flex. This changes the techniques you use when scrambling, and also makes friction moves like smearing off limits. I started finding my way up easily enough– had to rely on foot jams more than I normally do scrambling because of the boots, but ultimately did just fine. Then came the exposed slab that I had read about. Apparently it’s an easy friction traverse, but without the ability to do that, I wasn’t sure how I’d get across. I tried to see if I could sort of reach, or climb up over the offending boulder, but those weren’t options. I was about to throw in the towel when I noticed a rock wedged in between the slab and the boulder that sticks out over the edge. I gave it an “Alpine High Five” and it sounded solid. I followed that up with some attempt at shaking it to see if it would come free, but I would build an anchor off of it if I need to– it was that solid. Then I had an idea: If I hold on to that rock, I could swing my legs over the edge of the mountain to reach the ledge on the other side. If it worked, I would be able to keep going. If it didn’t, I wouldn’t fall off the mountain; I would just be dangling off the side until I could swing my legs back to where I had started.
It worked, and I was able to keep going. I reached a section that required a really fun chimney move, and got to the final move before the summit, which nothing really in the way holds and edges. There was enough to gain the summit though, and I figured in a worst case scenario I would only fall a couple feet. (Spoiler alert: I didn’t fall.)
My adrenaline was pumping so much and I was so relieved when I got to the summit, but concern about that spot just below without any holds made me want to descend quickly to make sure I could get out of harm’s way. After 5 minutes at the summit, a relieved summit photo, and a quick signature in the register, I was off of Mount Muir and on the Mount Whitney Trail.
After a long slog of terrible snow conditions (faceted snow that’s now been baking all day), I reached the summit of Mount Whitney at almost exactly 24 hours since standing at the summit of Mount Carillon the day before.
A sea of accomplishment and euphoria washed over me. I hadn’t seen another person in almost 48 hours; I had the mountains all to myself; I had pushed my body hard and it came through for me; and I accomplished multiple goals that I had set for myself. I made my way down the plateau, across the north face, down the couloir, below Iceberg Lake, and then I finally saw the first person of my trip. An awesome guy named Noah was on a months long road trip, and he was on his way to Iceberg Lake to his camp. He was forced to turn around once before, but he and I both knew he’d make it this time. I got his Instagram handle, and told him I look forward to seeing his summit photo. I then continued onward to Upper Boy Scout Lake which had become a party since I had left.
While headed back to camp from collecting some liquid water, I ran into one of my favorite people in the mountains: Ian, the guide of my winter mountaineering course; that I ran into while ice climbing in Lee Vining; whom I view as my mentor as I begin a journey into mountain guiding; was there with another winter course headed to Mount Whitney. “Brie? Is that you?” I heard as I tried to avoid post-holing even more. We had a nice chat about my adventure, how we’ve been, and all that jazz. I then had a nice meal, a good night of sleep, and packed up in the morning.
I made my way down, traveling over the Ebersbacher Ledges for the first time in all of my journeys here. They’re nothing to worry about– I’ve read a lot of doom & gloom reports about the ledges, but they’re simple, wide, not too hard to follow, and are there for you.
On the way down I slipped on some black ice, and even though I slid for a bit down the trail and ended up in a weird position that I was certain would lead to injury, I was able to get up and keep moving.
This slip and fall finished my catharsis. This whole journey had been absolutely fantastic on so many levels. Everything about it helped me realize a lot about my life, and this trip really was a transformational experience. I worked through and realized an awful lot while I was out there, and one of the parts of that I will share is about me and my body. I have spent most of my life hating my body, and only recently am coming to a place of self love. I push it constantly, ask it to do insane adventures, and lately I haven’t been treating it right. I’ve been slacking on my workouts, I haven’t stretched in forever, I’ve been binge eating again, I’ve been consuming alcohol, etc. The fact that I was able to do all that I did and still be walking helped me realize just how amazing my body is, and how I’m resolved to treat it better.
I’m sure someday I’ll have an adventure that tops this, but I don’t know if I’ll have one that tops this in terms of the impact it has had on me.
Climb on with love.
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