Excellent post, Karin. As I've mentioned, I do a lot of solo hiking so I have to be careful in offering advice to others. This is not a one-size-fits-all endeavor, and so many factors come into play with individual experience, fitness levels, personalities, phobias, etc. As I've come to know Whitney and developed a comfort level with the trail, I'm sure I've been guilty of underestimating dangers or challenges that don't register very high on my radar screen but may be significant to others.
Before my first attempt at Whitney in 2009, I did a lot of research on the mountain. This site didn't exist and the WPS was going through a transition with its first-timer materials. Ultimately, I found the best scoop on the pages of wbtravis' Mt. Whitney website. I used a lot of Bill's suggestions and information - which were laced pretty heavily with good, common-sense cautions and warnings - as my guide for that first trip. Solo trip, I should point out.
I had been above 14K' several times in the years prior, with no ill effects. The year before I had even traveled from essentially sea level to above 14K' in less than 24 hours, with absolutely no acclimation and no issues. I had this (admittedly ridiculous) idea that altitude didn't affect me. I was overconfident - and that first trip up the MWMT brought me back to earth with a hard crash.
I cruised up the mountain to Trail Camp feeling great, but by the time I stopped at the switchbacks spring to refill water a headache had started. By the time I hit the cables it had morphed into by far the worst headache I had ever experienced. Then came the nausea and sleepiness. Not fatigue necessarily, but sleepiness - I just wanted to lay down and go to sleep, and to hell with the consequences. I began to tremble and became unsteady on my feet (Harvey's oft-mentioned "mountaineer's foot"). I was not that far from Trail Crest when I yakked for the first time. I sat down somewhere around the 75th switchback and took stock of my situation. In the space of a single hour I had gone from feeling fine to becoming a huge liability to myself.
I admitted to myself that, yes, I really was suffering AMS and needed to turn back. I had invested a couple of grand and a lot of training in this attempt and really didn't want to go home defeated, but I made the decision to call it a day and descend. I had promised my wife I would take no chances. Now, here's the thing: I got up from that rest stop and ostensibly acted on my decision. Fifteen minutes later I realized I was still ascending the switchbacks. My mind had made the logical decision to turn around but my body had subconsciously acted on its own and kept going up. It was at that point that I began to think that maybe I shouldn't be alone.
I really did do an about-face at that point and - very, very slowly - walked my way out. It had taken me about 4.5 hours to climb from the Portal to Trail Camp. Trail Camp to the Portal lasted about 5 hours at the snail's pace I was moving. I typically jet downhill but, aside from the physical challenges I was experiencing, I was extremely concerned about my decision-making and went super-slow. That sudden awareness on the switchbacks that my mind was semi-scrambled had rattled me badly.
By the time I reached Outpost Camp I was feeling better (and, yes, I had to backtrack on the slabs after missing that hairpin left we've been discussing). By Lone Pine Lake most of the symptoms had disappeared. I was feeling well enough by the Portal to have a burger and a beer. I told my story to Doug and the first thing he asked me was where I had spent the previous nights. When I said Lone Pine, I got the friendly acclimation lecture. And I took it to heart. Based on that personal experience, whenever I advise anyone on their first Whitney attempt, or any other first try at altitude, I probably overemphasize acclimation.
Although that was my one and only experience with the perils of AMS, it has stayed with me ever since. Yes, it was the worst I've ever felt in my life, but the mental circus I went through is what still scares me to this day. Most people who know me would describe me as level-headed, logical, practical, and not given to taking unnecessary risks in the mountains. The fact that I would do something so stupid (for you, Bee) as succumb unconsciously to summit fever chills me when I recall it. What if I had not had that moment of clarity and turned around? The potential scenarios go from bad to worse.
That same trip I did a few pre-Whitney warm-up hikes in the Cottonwood area and ran across a group with a teenage boy who was suffering from altitude symptoms. They decided to press on while keeping an eye on him. I remember reading in the Inyo Register the day after I had come down from Whitney that this boy had eventually died from either HAPE or HACE. For me, that put the exclamation mark on the dangers of altitude, which I had been somewhat ambivalent about before.
I still do a lot of solo hiking, but since that episode I've never gone above 12K' alone, and I make damn sure I and my family get really good acclimation before doing so. My daughter was 11 when she first went up Whitney, and my wife and I watched her like hawks. She's always handled elevation well but when she began to slow down noticeably as we passed the windows, we stopped, took stock of the situation, and decided to turn back. That was a tough call with the summit hut in sight, but I've never regretted the decision. She said she only had a mild headache and could go on, but she was stopping to rest every 15 minutes or so after cruising up the switchbacks like a trooper. Her safety was absolutely Job One and it was getting later in the day than I liked. Also, Rob from the Crabtree ranger station had warned us about dangerous icing on the 97th switchback above the chute if we weren't back over it by the time the sun went off of it (this was the heavy snow year and the chute and trail above it was still heavily packed in July).
I had also exercised questionable judgment in even heading up Whitney that particular trip. A few days earlier I had suffered a shoulder injury during a technical climb of Cathedral Peak in Yosemite, and was still in an arm sling the day before we loaded up packs for Whitney. In retrospect maybe not the greatest decision, even though it presented no real difficulties for me during the trip. One little thing going wrong where I really needed the full use of that arm, and the story could have been quite different.
I try to keep these things in mind when discussing someone else's first attempt at Whitney or offering an opinion on someone's bad luck on the mountain - but I also know that if I had the opportunity to do Whitney solo next week I'd likely talk myself into it pretty quickly. Thanks, Karin, for shining a light on this inconsistency in some of our posts. I could certainly be more consistent in my opinions, and I'll try to bear your points in mind in the future.
