The Setup
Whitney felt like the natural next step, but honestly it mostly just seemed cool: big, tall, iconic.
We scored mid-September permits on short notice and called it a win, without really understanding weather, early snow, or what the 99 switchbacks could be.
It was a very 2017 plan.
The Approach
I flew into LAX, saw family in Irvine, and linked with Pat and Dia before we drove straight to Lone Pine.
“Acclimatization” was driving to ~8,000 feet and walking around while my heart rate felt weirdly high for no reason.
We camped in the Alabama Hills beside a creek that looked fake.
The Climb
Midnight start. Headlamps on. Almost no context — just a narrow cone of light in total darkness.
At 2:00 AM I stopped and realized I could only see a few feet in any direction. It felt like walking through a void.
By 5:00 AM we could see the next boulder, but not enough to understand the terrain.
The Crux
The first real clarity came when we saw the 99 switchbacks below us, headlamps zigzagging into the dark.
That’s when it landed: we still had a lot left. On the switchbacks, altitude finally showed up and everything became step-by-step survival.
Turn by turn. Try not to count how many are left.
The Summit
At the top of the switchbacks, everything changed. I dropped my pack near flatter terrain, felt instantly better, and started moving fast.
Whitney’s summit felt massive and detached — cold wind, huge views, a boulder field that seemed endless.
The Descent
Back at Trail Camp, Pat pulled out a sandwich and got hunted by the most relentless marmot I’ve ever seen.
Ten straight minutes of squeaking pursuit while Dia and I laughed from a rock. Pat still hates marmots.
Then reality: around 1 PM, still roughly nine miles to the car.
The Afterglow
We got down and ended up back in the Alabama Hills around a fire and beers, nearly 24 hours after starting.
We felt briefly invincible. Pat and I each lasted maybe two beers before passing out.
