09/07/04 Report: "Part VII"

There was a clear sense of anticlimax in the
morning. We had climbed the highest peak in the
continental United States. We had looked upon the
twinkling lights of Lone Pine, our destination.  We
had been but eleven miles from the Whitney Portal
trailhead.  And yet there we were, still deep in the 
wilderness, and with over 20 miles of relatively dull 
hiking to go. We followed the Pacific Crest Trail 
southward over Guyot Pass and down into Rock Creek. 

This we followed upstream for several miles in an
easterly direction. As we approached Rock Creek Lake
where we intended to camp for the night, the sky grew
dark and the temperature dropped significantly.  By
the time we reached the lake at the western base of
the massive Mt. Langley snow had begun to fall.  Dark
clouds swirled around the surrounding peaks and soon
obscured them from view.  Snow began to collect on the
ground. The group hastily set up the tents and
disappeared within them.  Jan and I stayed outside and
watched the storm.  The lake steamed and a couple of
ducks sheltered in the reeds at the water’s edge. 
Before dark the sky cleared and allowed us to prepare
dinner in the open air. The air was frosty though and
we sat around the cold fire ring and ate the warm food gratefully.  
(Campfires were not allowed in the Kings-Sequoia National Parks 
due to extremely high fire danger.)



Just as darkness fell two hikers pulled into our camp
and began depositing their food in the bear box
nearby.  I went down to talk to them and was surprised
by their very small, matching backpacks.  When I asked
them about it they told me how they were disciples of
the “ultra-light” movement, in which hikers cover lots
of miles in little time by reducing their equipment to
a fraction of what traditional backpackers would
carry.  It was remarkable.  They had no cooking
equipment of any kind.  For a tent they had only a
small tarp.  They were wearing all the clothes they
brought, even while hiking.  (They admitted to being
cold.)  They each had a small quilt in lieu of
sleeping bags, under which they intended to sleep
dressed in all their clothes.  They said they could
easily hike 30 miles in a day, even though they only
hiked 13 this day, about the same as our group.  They
had traded “camp” comfort for “trail” comfort.  They
were in for a long night, close as I could reckon.  

In the middle of the night I was awakened by the
sound of violent retching nearby.  It sounded bad and
Jan and I both got up to try and help whoever it was. 
It turned out to be one of the ultra-light guys
lightening his load a bit more.  He was the
unfortunate recipient of acute mountain sickness,
having ascended too high too quickly.  In the morning
we went over to where they were huddled under their
tarp to see if the guy was OK.  He looked a little
pale but his spirits were surprisingly good for having
spent such a wretched night.  We offered them hot tea
and coffee, which the sick guy steadfastly declined
but which the other guy eagerly embraced, offering us
some cookies in return.  We wished them luck on Mt.
Whitney and departed.

There is not much more to tell that is of much
interest. Another long day of walking in deep sand
took us over Cottonwood Pass and down to the trailhead
where we were met by our shuttle driver and his
kind-hearted wife. They had a little table set up
there with chips and salsa, grapes and cold beer. We
rejoiced, snapped photos, slapped backs and
congratulated one another. We had walked across the
Sierra Nevada.



Story by Tim Bluhm

(All photos: TB)