My long time friend Zack won the lottery. Not the kind where you buy all your friends yachts and disappear over the horizon, but the one where you get to bring them to the highest point in the contingent U.S. At 14,505 feet, Mount Whitney sits among and above California’s Sierra Nevada Range, a place Iʼve driven through countless times in winter, but was always too focused on snowboarding to stop.
The trail up Mount Whitney itself may not be the most technical hike, but it is definitely intimidating from the sheer size and stories of debilitating altitude sickness. Even still, summiting Whitney has been something Iʼve wanted to give a go for a long time.
When I got the call I had recently moved to Washington, which by no surprise was the ideal training ground. Between the dog runs, evening skates, and hikes to find the last remains of snow my new home had whipped me into shape. Even with all the preparation I still struggled with self-doubt, but by time I was in California and we started the familiar drive up Highway 395 I was more excited than anything.
We caught the last glimpses of light on the Sierras as we rolled into the Whitney Portal Campground. After a quick meal we went to bed to ponder our 2 A.M. wake up call.