Tyndall Frog Ponds - Guitar Lake
Big skies and big days meet on the Bighorn Plateau.
Packing down the penultimate camp was a slow business. We were on the trail to see the bright morning sunshine seep through the trees and crown the mountains gold. I’d been looking forward to crossing the Bighorn Plateau – FINALLY a piece of level ground after three fucking weeks of roller coaster terrain! It looked massive on the map, but after only 15 minutes we reached the treeline on the southern end. Short-lived pleasures. But we took our times to enjoy views of the southern Sierra, Forrester Pass and Mt Whitney in the distance.
After 300 km, we finally laid eyes on our destination: the highest point in the contiguous US, Mt Whitney.
We hiked with Philip all day, keeping a good pace on the blazed white trails amidst the crooked trees. I couldn’t get enough of his witty yet insightful remarks. He spoke adoringly of his wife and daughter, and joked about the difficulties he encountered as a carpenter in the US. “These idiots require me to measure stuff in the most ridiculous way, 13 sixtyfourths of an inch!” Hitomi and Midori, two sisters from yesterday’s camp, also joined us a few hours in. Time passed like a breeze as we chatted happily about the merits of Los Angeles, Clif Bars, The Lord of the Rings and the American legal system. Head into the wild, and find yourself bonding with people over the most unlikely things.
Philip & his Platypus bladder on a mission in Guitar Lake. We teased him for his decadence, he carried a three person tent and a camp chair the whole way.
The last camp. Zpacks Duplex looking fine in its natural habitat.
As a couple on the JMT we had always been the main unit, and by this point were rather under-stimulated by each other’s company. But as we hiked along the bright white trails in a long line under the sun, I truly appreciated the community these well-trodden trails provide.
Hiking was effortless now, and we reached Crabtree Junction before noon! Adrian, Philip and I stopped one last time to filter water before making the final push onwards to Guitar Lake – the last camp before Whitney.
Jagged mountain ridges crowned us in, and we pitched our tent in a cozy nook of boulders. I heard Philip shriek as he dived into the icy waters of Guitar Lake, and figured I might as well keep my dirt for another day.
As the day waned, the most stunning alpenglow I’d ever seen flashed onto the mountains, turning them into veils of peach and pink. Everyone was gathered around for “cocktail hour” and one last supper, our entire trail family. No one was nervous about climbing Whitney, the atmosphere resembled more that of Christmas Eve.
The trail means something different for each one of us. We all have our reasons for being here, and everyone made considerable investments to complete this adventure. I looked around at the smiling, tan faces of the people around me, and felt so happy to share this moment with them.
What a crazy adventure we’ve had. Camped here at 3500 m with friends. Pushing our bodies over the limit and finding new strength there. Over 300 km through the Sierra we have walked. Millions of steps culminating in this final stretch towards the sky.
Our trail family sharing one last dinner in the wild.
Golden moments in time. I longed for city comforts, but the beauty of trail life never fades.