The flapping tent and cold wind sneaking thru the tent had a net effect of no sleep. I do recall some increments of time that I don't remember which I attribute to "naps". My sleeping pad was not great which meant I could feel the ground under me adding to the discomfort and contributing to my restlessness.
We had our alarm set for 1:30am (Aug 19). On schedule we woke up, suited up, day-pack was ready to go. With head lamps on we did a quick check on water, snacks/food, laced our boots and at 1:59am booty was in motion. The cold breeze across the face and trapped body heat within the layers of clothing were doing their best to wake me up. I have often found myself where it seems that I realize the body is in motion, there is a goal to achieve, however, the brain does not seem to register these early movement and what these steps are leading towards. It feels like I am in a real-life dream. Has this happened to you?
Kevin, knowing this trail took the lead. He snapped an awesome pic before we left. The full moon in front and the filtered light shining up the landscape was serene to the eyes. I noticed the cracks on the rock faces giving the appearance of a Mt Whitney signature, like fingerprints.
There were only two audible sounds: that of a step moving on the trail and my breath. The vibration of each step passing thru me felt like a music note getting composed with the heart beat. Before I knew it, I started humming old Bollywood songs to my rhythm of this night.
I loved the night start for the summit not just because of the cooler temps and the serenity but also because it kept me from getting summit anxiety. Not seeing the 99 switchbacks was mentally calming. I kept singing. Kevin was motoring ahead of me. I wondered if he had bought a pair of bionic trekking pants. I have always struggled with the uphills, perhaps my mind intentionally slows it down. In some ways it has helped with me acclimatization and what's the rush, right! I always tell myself "you have to have reserves to go back home". I learnt that from Ed Viesturs book "No shortcuts to the top" and from my marathon days when my friend/mentor Partho Mandal gave me my first advice "....a marathon has two halves - the first 19 miles and the second 7.2 miles". I digress. Lets get back on the thought-trail.
Kevin, motoring ahead, was very kind to stop for me anytime he did not spot my light in his rear view mirror. I knew I was slowing him down. As I turned a switchback, I looked down and could not help see scattered bulbs across a long string of lights. Other hikers have hit the switchbacks! I had a mental note of the markers we would pass to hit the summit: half way thru the switchbacks we would come across the infamous "Chains", then Trail Crest. The summit is about 2.5 miles from Trail Crest. From here, we would traverse the Western face of the mountain walking across the "Windows", notice (appearing tiny) Summit Hut far away to the right.
My brain started switching between songs to people: those on our dedication flag. Reminder that I had a goal to accomplish gave me a pep-in-the-step.
The 99 switchbacks culminate at Trail Crest. A brief reprieve of sorts. The gradual downhill on the Western face of the mountain gave us the first glimpse of light from the rising sun. To my left was the Eastern wall of the Sequoia National Forest still seemingly sleepy in the shadows. My mind wondering how long before the moon decides to say goodbye and hand over the responsibility of our safe passage to the Sun.
Kevin does not like the narrow passages by the Windows. Me, I had to stop, take in the views, take photos…. Kevin did not want any part of this. I can see his concern. What if a sudden massive gust of wind got funneled thru the window onto a person. Its a sheer drop on the back side. I decided to play it a bit safer. The rising Sun as seen from the windows was breathtaking. Reminded me of seeing the rising sun from the peak of Mt Fuji (July 2019).
The remaining distance to the summit seemed longer than what the mile marker suggested. At 13,700 ft I can only get about 50%-60% the oxygen compared to home. (Low O2 + some fatigue) = Slow me. I noticed the summit hut one mountain-click away, one breath-one-step as I inched forward and upwards. Kevin was in top-gear and chugging. Trekkers who had left the day before us from Trailhead were coming down and cheering uphillers "you are almost there. You did it. Its around the corner." Positive affirmations amidst facial tiredness with a sense of accomplishment was morale boosting.
As I made the last right turn, the summit hut appeared in sight. It grew over the last mile since that last glimpse. Looked very inviting for a rest. I felt emotionally overwhelmed. The view from up top is spectacular. Impossible for the eyes to capture the expanse.
Kevin and I dropped our packs, smiles on the faces took some photos. Called home to share the news. We found a nice spot on the southwest wall of the hut to hang our dedication flag. Next task was to sign the log book for the record. Before we knew it, we were at the peak for an hour. It dawned on us that only half the job is done. We have a loooong second half to go home. It was 9:20am — the Descend begins.
