Most PCT hikers wake up and get going well before dawn to attempt scaling the highest mountain in the continental US. However, I had made plans to meet my friend Meredith up at the Trail Crest junction (where the trail from the PCT meets the main trail from Whitney Portal on the eastern side) at noon, leaving me some extra time to sleep in.
Leaving my tent, camping gear, and most of my food behind, I headed out soon after sunrise. It was a beautiful morning, and I enjoyed a leisurely trek through the valley past several shimmering lakes on the approach to the long series of switchbacks leading up to Trail Crest. The snowfields were still frozen and hard, making for relatively easy going if not so easy navigating. After straying from the trail, I ran into a few fellow thru-hikers returning from their own summit attempts. Surprised that I started out so late, they warned me of a dangerous snow traverse about halfway up the switchbacks.
Sure enough, I soon came to the large patch of steeply angled snow, with a well-worn track of bootprints leading about 100 feet to the other side. I strapped nanospikes to my suddenly meagre-looking hiking shoes, took out my ice axe, and started slowly across. Even though the snow held relatively firm, I tried not to look down the vertigo-inducing slope to the valley floor hundreds of feet below. Thankfully I made it across without incident, only to find a switchback leading immediately back across the treacherous patch of snow (although this time the traverse was half the length).
Reaching Trail Crest, I set my bag down to wait for my friend next to a family enjoying lunch and the fattest marmot I had ever seen. When she didn’t show for over an hour, I decided to go for the peak before losing any more daylight. Almost at a flat-out run, I crossed the long ridgeline and tackled another large (but less steep) snowfield on the way to the summit. Already breathless from the climb, the panorama of jagged, alternating brown and white mountains that greeted me seemed to freeze everything in a quiet, transcendental moment. Only two other people shared the peak with me at that late hour, and to my shock they soon began to climb directly down the face of the mountain. I quickly followed suit (but down the trail), and thankfully Meredith had arrived by the time I made it back to Trail Crest.
There are multiple reasons most people start the climb early: avoiding melting, slippery snow on the trail and afternoon thunderstorms, more time to reach the peak, etc. On the descent from Trail Crest, I noticed some people sitting next to the steep patch of snow below the traverse and heard some vague shouting and yelling from below. Assuming some hikers had decided to have some fun and glissade down the snow patch, we continued along the trail. Only after a helicopter descended into the valley and a ranger passed us going up the trail, urgently talking into her radio, did I realize something had gone wrong. I later learned that a man had slipped on the soft afternoon snow of the traverse, sliding down the mountainside and breaking a number of ribs. The incident hit home to me the serious dangers of mountaineering, and it remained at the forefront of my mind as I prepared for the high passes ahead.
Russell on the Road 