| We had just finished a workshop at
Death Valley and we were headed back to Santa Barbara via Lone Pine to look for a
photograph or two before returning to our businesses. We always like to take the extra
time to visit Lone Pine because of its contrast to the dry desert. The tiny town of Lone
Pine sits at the base of Mt. Whitney, which is part of the Eastern Sierra mountain range,
and next to the famous Alabama Hills where many classic cowboy movies were filmed. We ate
lunch at P.J.’s café, the only restaurant in town that one may be assured of as
being open for business and serving consistently good food. We sat there munching away at our food
and looked out the West window toward Mt. Whitney and the majestic walls of granite. Ron
said, "Chuck…how would you like to climb Mt. Whitney. Let’s take a big
camera to the summit someday?" "Oh, you know…I’ve been up there,
Wisner. I went to the top a few years ago with three friends and I thought I was going to
die," I whined. "We were in a hurry as usual and we didn’t acclimate to the
altitude properly… we didn’t do anything as we should’ve. It’s a
wonder we didn’t die up there…that mountain will kill you if you give it a
chance. Whitney makes its own weather and the lightning will fry your ass if you are in
the wrong spot. It was beautiful and it was probably one of the most strenuous things I
have ever done," I ranted on. "Really! Let’s do it, let’s take a big
camera up there, Chuck." We can do it…we just have to do it right. We will have
to workout and get in shape to be able to pull it off," Ron said. I could see the
cog-wheels turning in my friend’s head. It was like he had just engineered a new
camera and had to get one built in the next five minutes. I knew we were going up that
damn mountain come hell or high water and I knew I would never convince him how difficult
it would be. There was no arguing with Wisner and I…I was part of the plan. Yes, we
were going up that mountain whether I wanted the challenge or not. We were friends and
friends do whatever crazy stuff friends do.
The next year was spent
planning our attack. The proper permits had to be obtained, a new light weight 8x10 camera
had to be designed and built, our supporting equipment and sponsors had to be chosen with
extreme care and we had to be physically and mentally prepared.
Ron and I acclimated to the
altitude at Whitney Portal for three days. We sat around our campfire acting out parts
from the movie, "Blazing Saddles", watched the squirrels fight over pine nuts
which they were gathering for the coming winter and talked about the task ahead. We walked
around with our packs and equipment strapped to our backs. They felt very heavy, much
heavier than I believed we could get up that damn mountain. I was concerned about
Ron’s asthma condition. I worried about how we were going to get all of this gear
from where we were to an altitude of 14,995’. I didn’t want to fail and I sure
as hell wanted my friend to experience the thrill of standing at the top of that big old
mountain. A helicopter would have done the job nicely!
There was no way out of this.
We made a commitment and we were not about to let good old-fashioned common sense get in
the way of the task at hand. We had a new Wisner 8x10 Expedition camera, a Ries tripod
designed just for this occasion, our lenses, film and all of the supporting equipment we
needed. To lighten the load, we kept taking items out of the packs that we felt were not
absolutely necessary for the climb. Everyone acquainted with us knew where we were and
what we were about to try. Pride took over and failure was not part of the deal.
The packs went on our backs
and from that point on it was one step at a time…one strenuous step at a time…
up the John Muir Trail and on our way to the highest point in the lower forty-eight States
of America. My backpack and all of the gear lashed to it was bigger than I was and from
the onset I felt as though I would not be able to make the summit. As the day wore on, the
load seemed to lighten. I began to feel better about the climb because I believe my body
was finally acclimating to the extreme altitude.
We trudged on and passed some
of the most beautiful scenery on earth. We spent little time contemplating photographs
because we knew that we had to reach the summit of Whitney in two days or we would run out
of time and food. So we marched on to reach Base Camp by nightfall where we would set our
encampment for the cold night ahead and make final checks on the photographic equipment
for the final ascent.
Morning came quickly and we
were up before first light readying ourselves for the climb to the summit. Having made
this climb once before I knew that this leg of the trek would be the hardest. The terrain
was very steep and at points, very dangerous. One slip could put one of us over the edge.
We had over one hundred switch-backs up a granite wall to conquer before reaching a place
where we could rest. We decided that all unessential equipment would be left at Base Camp
to lighten our load. We filtered a generous amount of water from a nearby lake into
plastic bottles and carefully packed them with the camera gear.
We reached the top of the
switchbacks late in the morning and took a well-deserved break from the backbreaking
assent. From this vantagepoint we could see for hundreds of miles in all directions. We
could see most of Sequoia National Park to the west. We could see much of the Owens Valley
and several mountain ranges to the east. The air was clear and the weather was perfect and
the Whitney summit was now within reach…just a few more miles. A very demoralizing
part of the climb is when the trail drops down about one-half mile on the west face of the
mountain and then starts a very steep climb back up to the summit. This is when one might
ask oneself just what the hell one is doing on this mountain, anyway. The last few hundred
yards to the summit packing the load was almost unbearable for me. I grabbed hold of
granite boulders on the steep incline to pull myself along. I would rest every two or
three steps and try to get my system re-oxygenated and regain some kind of composure to
continue. I knew we were close and there would be no quitting at this point.
We drank large quantities of
water to fight any signs of altitude sickness, which can be extremely debilitating and in
rare cases, can cause death. I believe that Ron took my warnings about climbing Mt.
Whitney to heart. He was in very good condition. Most likely, he was in better shape than
I was because he was always a few steps ahead of me and I struggled to keep up. We marched
on and soon reached the summit. What a relief it was…we were there and we had reached
our goal.
We look around in all
directions to choose our individual positions for our photographs. We had little time to
waste before we would loose the light. We also knew that at any moment the wind could come
and ruin any chance we had of capturing a good image. Ron worked from the south edge of
the summit using an extreme wide-angle lens and I continued to search for a spot to place
the tripod and camera for my shot. |
