Climbing the Mountain

                Growing up I always had a fascination for the outdoors. I think some of this originated from my exposure to it from an early age. I went on my first camping trip with my parents when I was five years old. Four years later, at nine I went on my first backpacking trip with my father. There was always something exciting about leaving the house, and city life, behind and going on an adventure somewhere new, whether it be the beach or the backcountry of Southern California. However, despite my affinity for the outdoors I had never been camping far from my home. I really wanted to go to one of the famous national forests that dot the American landscape Yosemite, Yellowstone, or the Redwoods. This was when I decided that I wanted to climb Mt. Whitney.

                Located in central California, on the opposite side of the Sierra Nevada Mountains as Yosemite, Mt. Whitney stands as the tallest mountain in the contiguous United States. I’d grown up hearing about Mt. Whitney in elementary school geography. It was one of those facts about California teachers tend to bring up, “We have the tallest mountain in America.” However, I had never seen any pictures of it nor did I know what the climate of the area was but still, I was eager to climb it.

                It was the summer going into my eighth grade year, when my father and I decided we were going to attempt the climb. In the days leading up to our departure I prepared everything. I packed my backpack with all of the essentials tent, stove, fuel, food, sleeping bag, clothes. However the night before, I suddenly felt nervous about the trip. What if I can’t make it to the top? What if I get altitude sickness? Will I get tired and turn around? These were the questions I woke up to when we loaded the bags into the car to leave.

                The drive there was long and boring. From my home town of Ventura to the mountain is about a five hour drive through some of the monotonous terrain in California. Driving east from Ventura we hit the inland desert. From here it is a four hour drive north through the Mojave Desert, the hottest place in North America. I remember stopping to get food in the town of Mojave and having the soles of my shoes melt if I stood in any one place to long. The temperatures in the summer months can be hotter than 130^oF. From Mojave, we drove north, through seemingly never ending desert, for three more hours until reaching the town of Lone Pine. Sitting at the base of the Eastern Sierra Nevadas, Lone Pine is a small town made famous by two things, the Alabama hills surrounding it, where many old western movies were shot, and Mount Whitney looming directly above it. Standing in town in 110^oF heat, I remember seeing the snow in between the crags of Mt. Whitney and thinking it very odd.

                From Lone Pine, we took the winding road up from the shrubbery of the desert valley floor into the pine trees forest that dominates the mountain range. About twenty five minutes up the road, we reached the end of the line, Whitney portal campground. This is where we spent our first night before leaving for the climb the next morning.

                In the morning, we packed up all our gear and started for the beginning of the trail. The trail starts in a narrow valley with thousand foot granite faces looming up on either side. At the beginning is a wooden sign post that reads Mt. Whitney 14mi. What it doesn’t tell you is 14mi plus six thousand feet of elevation. From here we set off on the trail. Much of the way up is the same, granite and pine trees predominate most of the hike, with the occasional stream crossing the trail to break things up. After about five miles on the trail we came up to our first major landmark, Lone Pine Lake. This lake is the first of three dotting the trail up to the peak of the mountain. It was here we ate lunch and rested for the second half of the hike.

                Throughout the afternoon we continued on a steady pace through the pine trees and undergrowth until we reached the edge of the tree line. At this point the pine trees cleared away because of their inability to grow in the harsh climate of eleven thousand feet. At this point we were only two miles away from the summit and, it was here we planned to camp for the night. Taking out our stove we cooked dinner and set up camp for the night. During the night I was woken up by the sound of thunder and the battering of rain on the tent.

                In the morning we awoke to a steady down pour of rain on the tent and the continuing rolling of thunder. It was at this point, my dad said we couldn’t go to the summit because of the danger of lightning. I couldn’t believe it. We had done everything right. We had prepared for weeks for this and because of nature we would be unable to complete our goal. It was at this point, I realized I wasn’t in control of everything. You could do everything right and still not be in control of any situation. Although I was disappointed I think I learned a valuable lesson about control. Even though I couldn’t make it to the top I didn’t get mad at myself because it wasn’t my fault and I could always attempt it again.