Greetings from the top of the United States

ActiveAdmin — Thu, 19 Apr 2007 21:31:23 GMT

Lone Pine, Calif., is a quiet through town located along the southern section of U.S. Highway 395, the main north-south artery through the Owens Valley, connecting the Inland Empire to Reno, Nev. Whitney Portal road travels west from the center of town and climbs 13 miles and about 4,000 feet, terminating at a parking loop flanked by 1,000-foot granite walls and dotted with pungent pine trees. Here, trailheads originate which lead west into the John Muir Wilderness and to the summit of Mount Whitney, the highest point in the Lower 48 states.

During the summer months, throngs of weekend mountaineers trudge up the 11-mile trail to the coveted peak…if they are lucky enough to obtain a permit which often must be reserved months in advance. Winter on Mount Whitney is a different story. While winters in the Sierra Nevadas can be relatively calm and warm much of the time, storms can start on a whim and last for a week. And the swiftness with which storms move in and the severity with which they linger make for an unforgiving environment that can strike fear into the heart of even the most seasoned mountaineer.

Rather than the soft, 11-mile route which most folks take in the summer, winter ascents follow a shorter, steeper and far more direct route to the top. First climbed by John Muir, the mountaineer’s route is a strenuous third-class hike with areas of exposed ledges from which a fall means certain death. Hard-packed snow can make travel over rocky terrain slightly easier by creating a blanket upon which one can create tracks, but loose powdery snow will cause a would-be summiteer to sink to their waist with every step, severely slowing progress and increasing the chance of injury.

I attempted the mountaineer’s route three times over this past winter. My first two attempts were cut short by bad weather that moved in unexpectedly during the first night of camping. My third attempt was the charm. Two days of blue skies and warm daytime temps made it possible to hike in no more than my long johns and a T-shirt. The first day was a hike from the car (8,500 feet) to a relatively flat and wind-protected spot at 12,000 feet. The second day started before sunrise in order to take advantage of solid snow which allowed for the use of crampons rather than the snowshoes which keep oneself from sinking in looser snow. The final sections of the hike follow a 1,500-foot gully just to the north of the summit and then 500 feet of scrambling up boulders to the summit plateau. This last 500 feet is a “no-fall” zone, which means that a one wrong move will surely result in serious injury and possibly death. http://active.typepad.com/.shared/image.html?/photos/uncategorized/2007/04/19/witney64

Standing atop the summit of the highest mountain in the contiguous United States is quite surreal. To the east lies the Owens River Valley and the White Mountains, which receive far less precipitation. The lack of snow and their soft contours belie their size. But there is no mistaking the grandeur of the entire Sierra Nevada range which dominates the views to the north, south and west. One could stand for days on the summit of Whitney and count the endless snow-capped peaks and subsequent valleys. Taking in the view from the summit, it is easy to forget your everyday life and the troubles which plague society. From the top of Mount Whitney, you can gain a better perspective of our own insignificance, and life’s myriad challenges pale in comparison to the struggle to gain the summit. For a moment I felt like I had achieved a great victory, but that moment was short lived, and soon I was facing a long descent back to the car, tired, sore and wanting nothing more to get back to the same society from which I’d fled into the mountains. http://active.typepad.com/.shared/image.html?/photos/uncategorized/2007/04/19/whitney98

(Photos provided by Gil Weiss)

Climbing coast to coast

ActiveAdmin — Wed, 14 Mar 2007 23:29:06 GMT

http://active.typepad.com/.shared/image.html?/photos/uncategorized/2007/03/14/yosie.jpgWhether you live amongst the smooth rock towers of New York City or the colossal rock walls scattered up and down the western united states, if you have caught the climbing bug, then you will find someplace to climb, period. As a sport, rock climbing has managed to stay under the mainstream radar, but if you ask anyone who considers rock climbing "their sport" what its all about, then be prepared for a long and passionate rant filled with technical jargon and wide-eyed excitement. From coast to coast, if there is a climbable surface, whether it be the boulders of New York City's central park, the crags of Tennessee's smoky mountains, the overhanging limestone caves of Iowa, or the granite big-walls of California's Yosemite National Park, people will climb!

Climbers in the Northeastern United States must endure wet conditions and climbing areas that are both small in scope and in the actual height of the climbs. For climbers in the Western United States, it is quite the opposite. Geology has blessed the western United States with more rock than can ever be climbed in a lifetime, and some of the most revered climbing destinations, although extremely popular with tourists, are often unknown as climbing spots by 95% of the people that visit. Take for instance Yosemite National Park. On a recent trip there with my father who has never rock climbed, we stood below a massive wall of vertical granite called "El Capitan" which overlooks the bustling valley floor. As a 35 year resident of New York City, my father's idea of structural grandeur was dominated by the former World Trade Center buildings which rose 1,368 feet (417 meters) above the streets of New York. We now craned our necks straight up in awe of El Capitan, which rises 3,593 feet (1095 meters) from the valley floor to the top, almost 3 times as high as the former World Trade Center! Climbers from all over the world come to test their skills on this pillar of rock, which usually takes more than one day to climb, forcing climbers to sleep in tents which hang from the wall during the night.<script></script>

Climbing will most likely remain a sport under the pop-culture radar because of its extreme nature and little potential to make big bucks doing it professionally. But climb to the top of your first rock wall, whether it be in a climbing gym or an alpine spire, and you will feel a sensation that cannot be put into words. Climbing, after all, is a verb which is applied to all forms achievement. Many people ask me why I climb, and every time I tell them this; "If you have to ask, you'll never know."

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Greetings from the top of the United States

Climbing coast to coast