Fifteen feet above the relative safety of our rappel ledge I moved cautiously upward attempting to free our rope, which had snagged as we pulled it from our last anchor. I tested the big block, committed, and pulled hard in an effort to get closer to the snag, which was now in sight. Suddenly, the block flipped upwards and I let out a pathetic cry as I found myself balancing with the twenty-pound rock, now uprooted, resting firmly against my chest. I scrambled to find a jam in the too-wide crack just above me and finally, with a reasonable stance, shoved the hunk of granite off into the void. An initial silence was followed by the crack of the rock tumbling down featureless granite walls, casting a trail of sparks with each bounce before it disappeared into the dark void below; then silence.
Two hours before Chris and I had signed the summit register on top of Mt. Russell (14,088 Ft.) and shared the warm embrace of success after hours of hard climbing up the beautiful Mithral Dihedral (5.10, III) in the Whitney zone of California’s Eastern Sierra. This was our first alpine climb, as well as our first trad climb at the 5.10 grade and it had gone off without a hitch; and as the sun set over the distant Western ranges we basked in the powerful feelings of success and accomplishment on a scale much grander than we had known before. We had chased thin cracks of possibility and come out on top.
We left Los Angeles Tuesday morning, Sept. 20th and arrived in Lone Pine around 12:30 PM, after securing a permit and feasting on pizza and beer we drove up to Whitney Portal, loaded our gear, and began hiking up the North Fork of Lone Pine Creek. Chris’ pack was stuffed to the gills, hauling fifty pounds of gear (this was his first backpacking trip so we’ll forgive him that) including a giant tripod, two sleeping pads, and our entire climbing rack. My pack was a modest thirty-six pounds and I hauled the rope, bear canister, and tent. We moved at a leisurely pace and reached our camp at Upper Boyscout Lake around 7:00 PM. After setting up camp we feasted on some freeze-dried delectables; after thorough feasting and feeling sufficiently carbed-up we turned in for the night.
After a rather fitful night’s sleep we awoke at 6:00 AM to the obnoxious beeping of my watch and rose to rack up and begin the two mile approach to the base of the route. We had planned on starting the hike by 7:00 AM but after a thorough session of dawdling we set off a bit after 8:00 AM. The approach proved more involved than we had anticipated and we found ourselves just above Iceberg Lake at the base of Mt. Whitney at 10:30. After trying unsuccessfully to talk Chris into heading up Whitney’s East Buttress and then crossing a small snowfield we scrambled up to the Whitney-Russell Col and finally, the route was in sight! It looked big. We made our way across the the valley between the two mountains and at 11:30 I was tied into the rope and ready to start up the route. The first two leads were mine and I cinched my shoes tight across my feet and began climbing.
Mithral’s first two pitches went quickly and efficiently, moderate climbing on well-spaced gear got us up to the base of the dihedral just before 1:00 PM. The weather was fantastic and my Nano Puff stayed clipped to the harness for most of the day, climbing in short-sleeves in the mountains is wonderful! But now we were hanging at the base of the business, nearly three hundred feet of vertical climbing at 13,000+ Ft; this was where the climb became real, so to speak.
After pounding some Shot Blocks Chris racked up and began heading up the dihedral he moved quickly through the lower portion of the dihedral, running it out and saving gear. After bypassing the first crux section, about fifteen feet of unprotectable offwidth that called for some very exposed laybacking, Chris got a good rest and good gear. The rest of the pitch went, slowly but surely and after an hour on lead Chris built a semi-hanging belay and I huffed and puffed up as quickly as the altitude allowed. The next pitch, though much shorter than the previous, contained the technical crux of the climb, a slightly overhung section of layback crack to a wild step-across move. After a bit of encouragement and placing a pair of bomber Metolius Cams, Chris fired through the crux and with a wild whoop found himself on an amazing ledge with the most difficult climbing now over. I followed this pitch quickly and enjoyed every moment, climbing on top-rope sure is nice! We relaxed in the sun, finally secure on the huge ledge, and slurped down the last of our Gu. Reinvigorated we began up the last bit of roped climbing to the summit. Four or five more short, scrambly pitches up a ridge got us to another fine ledge where we unroped and third-classed our way to the summit.
With the sun rapidly descending behind us and a long, exposed third class ridge descent ahead of us we enjoyed the summit for a quick moment then began heading down Mt. Russell’s East Ridge. At this point I unstrapped my climb shoes and switched to my the runners. We descended the ridge quickly but lots of unexpected snow slowed our travel and we were forced off of the third class ledges and onto higher, quite exposed fourth class terrain.
After passing Russell’s West Summit with the last rays of light disappearing and more snow ahead we made an executive decision: to continue on this slick, exposed terrain in the dark seemed dire, particularly given that we only had one headlamp between us, my trusty Black Diamond Gizmo. We had reached a promising looking chute and decided to begin rappelling rather than face more snow in the dark. We quickly slung a rock and began what would turn out to be a journey of many dark, lonely rappels. As I coiled my rope at the bottom of the first rappel the last of the day’s light disappeared and, just after 7:00 PM, I turned on my headlamp. From above it looked as if a single rappel would lead us to walkable terrain, but after walking down another fifty yards we reached a large drop-off with no visible bottom. Our only option at this point was to continue rappelling into the darkness, and hope for viable anchor points along the way. After two or three rappels Chris and I switched places and I began leading the descent. Each rappel into the unknown brought about a sickening feeling, particularly for the second man down, who did not have the headlamp to guide him. Finally, after several harrowing moments including the aforementioned stuck rope a final rappel dropped us on top of a huge scree field. It was now midnight, we had been in motion since early that morning, eaten the last of our food and water at 5:00 PM and we still faced an unknown hike back to camp. Still, with unwavering hope and PMA (positive mental attitude, a climber’s most important tool) we had made it through the unknown.
For two hours we hiked through scree, talus, and over boulder fields until finally my headlamp caught the reflective glow of our tent. Overcome, we filled our bottles in Upper Boyscout and simply lay on the ground outside our tent for an hour, smoking cigarettes. Finally, at 3:00 AM we crawled into our sleeping bags and everything went blank.
We rose four hours later, packed up camp, and began the five mile hike back down to the Whitney Portal. We had not eaten for a while and were eager to get to Lone Pine and gorge ourselves on whatever fatty offerings the town had available. After descending the North Fork we were back at the Portal before noon and enjoying the best beers and French fries of our lives. We continued the feast in Lone Pine and then, after a huge coffee, began the drive back to Los Angeles. The haze of our experience was slow to dissipate, but as the Sierra disappeared behind us we found ourselves flipping through our guidebook, planning the next adventure. We had tip-toed our way across the razor-sharp ridge of possibility and could not wait for more. . .
Due to the pain-in-the-ass factor of uploading text and pictures, the pictures of this trip are featured in a subsequent post.
