At 14, 506 ft, Mt. Whitney is the highest peak in the continental U.S., so acclimating is key. We worked remotely from Mammoth (8,000 ft), spent a night camping at 10,000 ft and another at Whitney Portal (8,000 ft) before attempting our big climb. On our way up, we saw at least three people heading back down due to altitude sickness. The elevation is no joke!
The climb is made up of three stages. The first 6 miles and 4,000 ft is up to Trail Camp, where backpackers lucky enough to grab a permit can camp. Then it’s another 1,000 ft up 99 switchbacks (there are really 99–we counted!). Then it’s the last two miles and final 1,000 feet. We left at 2:00 AM and submitted at 10:30 AM. We hung out at the top for 30 minutes or so and then headed back down, arriving back at Whitney Portal at 5:00. So it look us 8.5 to climb and 6 hours to descend.
The sign at Whitney Portal warns that getting to the summit only half the journey. You have to come back down. It was taxing climbing the 11-miles to the top. But it was arguably more grueling to have to come back down. Hiking poles are key to saving knees and toes!
Three of my closest compatriots have gotten enthused about birding. Really enthused. Like, read-textbooks-buy-equipment-set-weekend-and-vacation-plans-by-it enthused. When people you love are really into something, there’s a spillover effect. And while I’m not a birder, hardly even “birder adjacent,” it’s been a pleasure to grow a bit more aware of our feathered friends.
One day last spring, I looked out my home office window and noticed a rather plain brown bird hopping along with twigs in its beak. Back and forth it went along the ground in front of my window, presumably building its nest. “I’m working and you’re working,” I thought. “But you have to commute.”
Walking along a wooded path in the Berkeley hills, I heard a loud chirping, then spotted a dark-eyed Junko sitting on a branch, singing its little heart out. Its tiny triangular beak opened and closed, opened and closed. “You look just like a cartoon version of a bird singing,” I thought.
I walked by a house and noticed a dove hanging out in the front yard. “Why are you just sitting on the ground like that?” I wondered. The next day, I passed by again and the dove was still there, this time flitting in and out of the bushes. “Oh, I see,” I thought. “You live here.”
Looking back over what I’ve written, I see that there’s a good amount of “direct address” to birds. Is there a birder word for that?
I highly recommend spring backpacking in Big Sur. The hills are still green, wildflowers are plentiful, and it’s not too hot. Let me tell you about the trip that Wes and I took last month (April 2021)
But first, my dehydrator.
I was gifted a very fancy dehydrator and took the plunge to prep two backpacking dinners, as well as some fruit to add to oatmeal. So before I show you pics from our trip, I need to show you photos of this process!
Thai curry, basmati rice, mushroom risotto, and fruit ready to go into the dehydrator.All that food shrunk down to this!I even made this “cozy” to keep food warm and save fuel.
Our first night in Big Sur, we rehydrated the Thai curry and basmati rice (cover with water, soak for 15 minutes. Then heat for 10 minutes on stove, then remove from heat and finish rehydrating in cozy for 10 minutes).
A big success! I feel very empowered and can’t wait to try more kinds of food.
I felt so proud.
Back to Big Sur…
We hiked in at the Pine Ridge Trailhead at Pfeiffer Big Sur State Park. The trail had just re-opened after being closed for several years due to fires and we appreciated all the trail maintenance that had been done, especially as we passed branch after bush after clump of poison oak. Seriously, so much poison oak. Everywhere we turned, we saw poison oak flourishing. Shiny leaves and matte. Scalloped edges and smooth. Budding with tiny flowers. We hiked along and tried to avoid contact but felt a little doomed, especially when someone wanted to keep exploring, even beyond where the trial had been cleared.
Bushwhacking through what we hope isn’t poison oak.
We found an idyllic spot to camp at Barlow campground. We weren’t sure if it was because so few people had been through recently, but there were no mosquitos, even near the water. The campground even had a newly-constructed pit toilet set up the hill from camp. Unfortunately “far” still meant you could look down and see campers walking around. That was exciting. Also exciting — the preponderance of ticks. Hey, never say this blog sugarcoats the tougher realities of backpacking.
Unfurled fern.
We had a really good time but because poison oak doesn’t show up until about three days after the fact, it took a few days before we could relax and say we’d made it out, rash-free and (mostly) tick free.
I didn’t grow up backpacking or even camping, really. So the pleasures of extended time in the wilderness is still a relatively new pleasure for me. But what a deep pleasure it is.
