My day ends, camped on the side of a cliff, at about 13,500 feet. I am laying in my sleeping bag watching the sun sink into mountains that are all golden sunbeams and snow. But let me back up.
The morning started off a little slowly. After passing rock creek the trail climbs steeply to Guyot Flat, a broad tree speckled field that slopes gently higher. After climbing two small saddles and reaching 10,800 feet I had a view down on Crabtree Meadow (pictured). I descended, expecting a zoo of Whitney climbers. The meadow was empty. I checked the ranger station. It too was locked up and deserted. I cached my extra food in a bear locker and started up toward Whitney. The approach goes from one bench to the next, passing by a few small lakes. My plan was to stop at Guitar Lake and rest for most of the day. Then, after dinner, I would push on a couple more miles before evening. This would leave a shorter ascent in the morning, which could be done by taking only necessary gear and leaving the rest in camp.
I passed Timberline Lake, with Mt. Whitney towering behind it (pictured), and soon arrived at my destination. I set up a temporary camp in the lee of a large boulder, then set about cleaning off in the lake (pictured). Don't worry, I wasn't naked, I was wearing my crocs. And yes, that is ice on the lake. After my brisk bath I sat back to read, only to glance up and find a marmot staring at me from a few feet away (pictured). Soon the marmot came down to investigate my drying clothes, and to lick the salt off my shirt (pictured). Not wanting to encourage reliance on humans, I tried to shoo him off. Despite my efforts, though, I soon had several marmots hanging around my camp. One, a grizzled old thing with many a battle scar, came within two feet of me to investigate my cookpot.
Around 5 I packed up and started hiking again. The going was easy and I planned to get to the highest bench before calling it a day. However, the trail that I thought would lead me there turned toward the mountain, and I realized I was on the switchbacks that lead up to the final ridge. I sighted a nice flat spot to lay out my bag, not wanting to camp on the exposed ridge. I am probably about 500 feet below the ridge, which sits at 14,000 feet. My spot is on a spur that juts out from the mountain, so I don't have to worry about falling rocks. It also has a large boulder between my sleeping spot and the edge, whoch keeps me from plummeting to my doom, and doubles as a handy wind break. I was able to use the timer on my camera to get a picture of me in camp. I also got a picture of the view from my bag.
Aside from some dayhikers I saw from a distance yesterday I haven't seen any people now since Kennedy Meadows. It is a strange thing, going three days and seeing almost no humans, especially in a popular place like Whitney. As far as I know I have the entire mountain to myself.
