PCT Day 71
July 10, 2021
Mile: 766.3 (15 mile round trip to the summit of Mount Whitney and 4000 feet elevation gain)
Start: Crabtree Meadows to Mount Whitney summit and back
Finish: Crabtree Meadows
I was super nervous this morning when we woke up and immediately suggested to Shannon that we sleep in to delay the inevitable – we were going to get married today. Ahhh!!! Pre-wedding jitters to the max! We’d taken a day in town to go to the Bakersfield, CA courthouse to pick up a confidential marriage license which meant that we could hold a marriage ceremony with just the two of us after having an ordained minister sign our marriage license paperwork. We didn’t want to force anyone to hike all the way up to the 15,505 foot peak of the tallest mountain in the lower 48 states so prior to our hike, we connected with a local Trail Angel and former PCT thru-hiker Grateful to sign our papers in the town of Lone Pine, CA. Today was the big ceremony where Shannon and I were going to hike up the big ole hill, don our wedding clothes we’d been hiking with in our packs for 60 miles, say some vows and celebrate with champagne atop a beautiful mountain peak.
Everyone on the PCT seems to like to wake up at midnight to hike to the summit of Mount Whitney for sunrise, but they also start sleeping around 5 or 6pm the previous night. We rolled into the tent site around 8pm and didn’t get to bed till 9:30-10pm so 2 hours of sleep before an 8 hour strenuous hike didn’t sound so fun. We decided to sleep in and start hiking whenever we woke up in the morning. I was super nervous when we got up and slowly packed my day pack with essentials like water, snacks, my wedding dress that I’d never tried on and Shannon’s tuxedo t-shirt.
As we packed up, we sat in the sun near our tent while trying not to make eye contact with the people who were using the open air toilet behind us. Nervously we ate breakfast, enjoying the morning peacefulness amongst the occasional sounds of slamming toilet lids. The majority of the hikers were gone already, hiking up Mount Whitney for the sunrise. I had the jitters all morning and kept thinking that I wasn’t sure if I wanted to actually hike Mount Whitney. I tried to come up with excuses to not hike today but Shannon called me out acknowledging that I was just having pre-wedding jitters.
When Shannon went to use the open air bathroom, I saw a deer silently trot out of the woods and head right over to where he was on the open air toilet. I didn’t think much of it but later laughed my a** off when he told me how scared he was while he was on the toilet and heard something in the woods while he was, ahem, very indisposed and vulnerable. He thought the sound of nearby rustling in the woods was a bear so he panicked, scrambling on the open air toilet to be finished quickly. Shannon had a good chuckle when he found out it was just a deer! I told him it was karma from all the deer he’s eaten and shot over the years, and that this particular deer was just trying to get back at him for years of deer hunting.
We hiked out with light day packs leaving our tent sleeping bags set up in Crabtree Meadows with all of our smelly food and toiletries packed away in our bear canisters away from our tent. The sun was brilliant and vibrant, the temperatures warm and the trail nicely packed down. We passed several beautiful lakes at the foothills of the mountains, lingering towards the side of the trail to give way to exhausted looking hikers coming off the summit of Mount Whitney after walking through the night. Loads of marmots, chipmunks and ground squirrels scampered about the hiker campsites at Guitar Lake, lingering sometimes a little too close to hiker food bags and bear canisters. Large fluffy marmies sunned themselves on the warm rocks appearing as idyllic as a tourist tanning on the beach and unconcerned with much else in life besides obtaining maximum sunshine. A few marmots got up from their tanning beds to give a couple sharp whistles of alarm when we walked too close to them to warn their clan about us lumbering humans entering their territory. After a few whistles and then watching us leave, the lazy marmots went right back to suntanning and nap time on the rocks.
As we hiked up to the first set of switchbacks, I couldn’t help but notice the ominous clouds collecting in thick blue and gray clusters on the horizon. I was nervous that we’d run into thunderstorms since these clouds were starting to take on the appearance of the anvil-shaped storm clouds that bring on summer thunderstorms. During the day, we agreed to keep an eye on the weather and if it became worse then we’d turn around. The bruised skies settling in like mottled clusters of impending storms beyond the far peaks didn’t look too promising that the weather would hold but I also think I was just trying to use the weather as an excuse to turn back to the tent with my pre-wedding jitters. If it started thundering and lightning then we definitely would turn around and hurry back to camp.
Most of the 4,000-foot climb from our tentsite at Crabtree Meadows to the 15,505-foot-tall Mount Whitney summit was above treeline and we would be completely exposed to the weather. There would be absolutely nowhere safe to hide if it started to lightning and if there was too much of a risk of getting electrocuted if we were out there then. Luckily the weather held out this morning and we climbed out of the canyons filled with stunted pine trees up to stark and stunning Guitar Lake. A local hiker we met yesterday suggested that we should camp at this lake but since our PCT permits didn’t allow us to do this, we stayed at a lower elevation in Crabtree Meadows which actually seemed to be more protected from the wind and had less curious rodents and marmots trying to chew into our tents and bear canisters to get at our food. Guitar Lake was striking because the water was actually shaped like its namesake instrument with a dozen hiker tents crowded around the shores and steep jagged Sierra mountain peaks rising behind “the neck” of the guitar. We scooped up an extra liter of water from a rushing clear mountain stream nearby as it was our last water source for the rest of the day.
We wiggled our way through jagged rocks, admired hardy bright spurts of wildflowers flourishing out of nothing but a handful of gravel and dodged tons of overly curious marmots up to the start of the many dozens of rocky switchbacks. On the back of Mount Whitney, the trail transformed into loose rocks and scree that rolled like a layer of marbles underfoot so you really had to pay attention to every single step or you’d slip off of a rocky cliff to certain injury or death. Freshly fallen rocks lay in the rambling path kicked down by some unsuspecting hiker overhead or triggered by a small rockslide and sidestepping the obstacle. It made me a little nervous to talk too loudly on the trail and accidentally set off a rockslide or worry about hikers above us kicking rocks over the edge towards us.
The air was thin even now at 12,000 feet above sea level but we just hiked slowly, taking our time to rest and catch our breath every so often. We still had 3,000 feet of climbing to the summit so we had to be careful of altitude sickness which was a serious concern. Shannon seemed to be having an easier time with the altitude than I was but he waited as I paused to take big inhalations and calm my racing heart. We were making sure that we were staying hydrated and watching out for symptoms of altitude sickness like headaches, shortness of breath and more serious indicators like nausea, vomiting, loss of appetite, confusion, inability to walk and coughing up foam. If we saw any of these symptoms we’d definitely be descending but we hoped for the best that we were somewhat adapted to the higher altitude.
As we trekked higher, several large and very well-fed marmots ran around the trail with their wiggly butts waddling back and forth and up and down the rocks, whistling to each other to alert their brothers and sisters when us big ole hikers came stomping by. We’d left the treeline about half an hour into the hike this morning and the grassy fields had long disappeared after Guitar Lake. Despite alpine meadows now being a thing of the past, we were surprised to see shocks of fluorescent purple (and quite poisonous) Dwarf Foxglove flowers and lavender bouquets of hearty Sky Pilot decorated the trail. Small stands of fuchsia and lemon-colored Shooting Star flowers dangled from their arched stems alongside golden egg yolk colored Bristle Brush sprouting from the rocky hillside, growing in probably the most inhospitable places that you never would think could be homes for a living organism.
The wind picked up and we kept a keen eye on the ever darkening clouds passing by the distant mountain peaks. As we snaked our way up the back flanks of Mount Whitney, we could see dark curtains of rain or snow crossing across the valley from us. We industriously huffed and puffed our way up the switchbacks, stopping every couple minutes to catch our breath, because the mountain air was so thin and we had apparently lost our high altitude tolerance when we had spent a week recovering from food poisoning or heat exhaustion in the valley of Lone Pine down at 3,000 feet of elevation. Now we’re hiking all the way up to 15,000 feet so it was a big adjustment for our bodies but so far so good.
At one point it started drizzling cold droplets of rain on us and I took a moment to look up from the sketchy rocky trail to see a menacing dark sheet of rain stretching right across my entire field of vision. Amongst the cold raindrops, things started to get really crazy for a minute as pea-sized beads of hail started pelting us and bounced off our arms, head and backpacks. The icy pellets reddened the exposed skin on my legs and bounced off my hat comically as we kept hiking to stay warm as the rain and hail grew thicker and thicker. They say that it’s good luck if it rains on your wedding day so if it hails it must be extra good luck!
Eventually the cold precipitation dropped off and finally stopped, covering the rocky trail in a slippery sheen of water and melting ice. We ran into dozens of cold day hikers crowding the path at the junction of the Mount Whitney Summit Trail and the pass down to the Whitney Portal, east of the summit where the town of Lone Pine resided in the valley. Luckily the tour guide of the day hikers was pretty in tune with what was going on and asked the oblivious day hikers to clear the way so we could get up the mountain, which was nice. It was a Saturday when we summited and the trail was insanely busy with weekend warriors. Most of the hikers were wearing brand new, well, everything. Their gear was super clean, spotless and not broken in. It looked like the outdoor gear shops down in the tiny town of Lone Pine were doing just fine and making good money these days off crowds of day hikers.
We had a bit of slow going up the Mount Whitney summit because of the dozens of people heading down the mountain. It seemed like over a hundred or two hundred people were descending the mountain as us lone hikers were trekking up. Shannon and I played a careful game of shifting on the 1-person-wide trail to allow people by while not falling off the steep cliffsides. At one point I was going around a blind corner of rocky outcropping and accidentally surprised the guy coming the other way. We both stopped short in our tracks and my first response was, “Peek-a-boo!” to this complete stranger. He was super confused and his friend laughed at the ridiculousness of the scenario.
The trail passed by the scary needles, where there’s at least a sheer 2,000 foot drop down the front side of the mountain if you slipped here. You could seriously get vertigo if you lingered here too long so we carefully picked our way around the slippery boulders and rock falls. Closer to the summit we passed a young guy who was puking his brains out into some rocks and asked him if he was okay because vomiting is a sign of altitude sickness, and there’s no cure to it except by getting down off the mountain. We checked in on him and he said, he replied, “You don’t want to be a part of this…” and confirmed he was okay. He was awake oriented and a little sarcastic with enough water and some food. He said he was just going to rest a bit and see if he felt good enough to summit and if not he was going to go down to lower altitudes and get off the mountain.
We left barfy boy to take care of business, making a note that if he was still there when we came back that we’d help him off the mountain. As we ascended close to the top in the early afternoon, all of the crowds of hikers seemed to disappear till it was just a handful of us at the summit. Shannon, myself, PCT hiker Devin (who we had met the other day camped out near a swamp asking why there were so many mosquitoes lol), a couple who were just starting their 215 mile John Muir Trail thru-hike and a couple who had met on the Pacific Crest Trail and had triple crowned. Triple Crowners are thru-hikers who have completed all 3 famous long distance trails in the US – the 2,200 mile Appalachian Trail, the 2,650 mile Pacific Crest Trail and the 3,030 mile Continental Divide Trail.
Devin told us he had been up at the summit since 9am hanging out, and it was now 1pm. We announced that we were gonna get married up here and laughed at how confused he was as he wrapped his head around the idea. It turns out in real life Devin is a cinematographer from Los Angeles, and he kindly offered to film and take pictures of our vows which was some real Trail Magic. The sky that had been gray, dreary and rainy all morning all of a sudden parted into bright aquiline skies with the sun highlighting the edges of the clouds in gold and peach. It was freaking magical!
Shannon looked at me, I looked back at him smiling and together we said, “Let’s do this!” So we tossed down our packs, grabbed our bag of wedding clothes that we’ve been lugging around the backcountry for the last 60 miles, and got dressed right on the top of the mountain peak without a care in the world. Shannon threw on his tuxedo t-shirt from Amazon, because it was much lighter (and cheaper) than an actual tux or vest and shirt that would be wrinkled. I turned around and ripped off my shirt, shoved on my dress and flower headband over my messy windblown hair. Dark clouds grew bigger in the not too distant peaks and we knew we didn’t have long to celebrate before it stormed. There was a rock cabin at the summit that we could take shelter in during an emergency but it has a metal roof so it’s a terrible place to hide from a thunderstorm and it was at least a 3 or 4 hour hike down to get to the treeline so we had to hurry it up.
In our hiker version of wedding clothes, we stood in the golden rays of sudden sunlight with the parting clouds allowing blue skies to serve as our background to our wedding celebration at the summit of Mount Whitney. Devin filmed us as we said our vows while the JMT couple and Triple Crowner couple sat down and watched the ceremony. Despite having attended weddings in the past, I don’t think I really understood what vows were. Shannon said that vows were a bunch of promises. So, amongst other things I promised Shannon that we will get 1 million cats and promised that if I died before he did that I would come back and haunt him so he wouldn’t be lonely. Lol!!! I don’t think I really understood the concept of vows, but Shannon made up for it and said some really sweet things to make up for me. The wonderful couple of people who were watching our wedding vows spontaneously started crying at Shannon’s vows and they laughed at mine.
We kissed deeply as the blue sunny sky peeking through the dark scary storm clouds seemed to sparkle and glow. A breeze blew through, our hair blowing everywhere as we laughed in celebration. The impromptu audience was in tears and congratulated us even though we had only met them a few minutes ago. It was such crazy timing because as soon as the vows were over, the bright aquiline sky behind us grew gray, dark and ominous as the first rumble of thunder rolled and lightning bolts struck in the distance. We took the storm holding off for our vows as a sign to get the heck out of there, and that maybe some higher power was happy for us. Who the heck knows!
Devin took a few more pics of us and we headed down the mountain, not bothering to change out of our wedding attire as we threw our backpacks on. I hiked down the tallest mountain in the contiguous United States sporting my wedding dress while Shannon hiked down in his tuxedo t-shirt in celebration. On the way down, the skies drizzled and hailed ice pellets a bit, but thankfully the lightning and thunder stayed far away on the other side of the valley. We celebrated the whole way down the mountain as random people congratulated us crazy hikers.
Back in the treeline again, the skies changed from mottled gray to a brilliant sapphire as we stopped to take some photos down at the scenic Timberline Lake. We laughed as we saw a big boy on the other side of the lake who was clearly enjoying his skinny dipping session in the water. Who knows – we may or may not have pictures of him in the background of our photos by accident. Back at camp, we popped open a small bottle champagne that we had actually hiked all the way to the top of Mount Whitney and were planning on enjoying up there until the thunder started rumbling. Turns out, you probably shouldn’t bring champagne, all the way up to 15,000 feet and back down to about 10,000 feet, because when we popped the bottle, it went freakin crazy and the cork flew, probably 100-150 feet into the woods in what sounded like a gunshot burst. It was nuts. My head was hurting a little bit because we didn’t drink enough water or eat enough during the day because of all the excitement. I sipped on lots of electrolyte drink mix powder in cold mountain stream water and ate a little bit of food which helped immensely.
Underneath the quiet pines next to Crabtree Meadows we hung out, listening to the creek flowing in the lush valley below and sipping on a very carbonated champagne. I gave Shannon his wedding present, which was a Taco Bell fire sauce packet that on the outside said, “Marry Me” that I had carried around for at least 700 miles of PCT. He enjoyed the Taco Bell sauce with his dinner. We celebrated and laughed at how crazy the day had been and then in true Hiker Trash fashion, we went to bed at 8:30pm. Hahaha what a day!! None of our family or friends knew that we were going to do this so we were excited to tell them when we arrived in town in a few days and had cell service.
