2026 Mt. Whitney Hike: Day 4, Colby Lake To Junction Meadow: Steps

Day 4

Distance:  10.96 miles
Elevation gain: 1665 ft.

Wake-up call this morning was at 0415 with a 0530 desired departure time; we had to climb Colby Pass and doing it before the sun comes up is desirable.  The picture above was a bit of a lark; as it turns out, the I-phone's picture capabilities have greatly improved and you can get night sky pictures.  Breakfast was a quick oatmeal and additions.

 

We were out by 0500 with headlamps on; the day was starting to dawn but it was easier for our guides to do a quick head check based on our lights.  The ascent was a relatively easy one as the Colby Pass loomed into view.

Looking back in the Sierras is always worth the effort.  It shocks me sometimes how quickly we seem to rise and how much distance we seem to cover.

The Colby Pass.  I did a pretty full write up of it for my 2022 hike.  Suffice it to say that you are confronted with a seemingly impassible hillside that appears to rise like a wall.  Looking a little closer, one finds a path.  It is either up or out; I would argue that that this one event in 2022 more than anything else made me a hiker.

Our guides estimate that it will take 45 minutes to complete.  We each start up - once again, I fall rather quickly to the back, counting and breathing and resting and then pushing forward.  The path, for all of its appearance of impassibility, it a pretty good trail, and uphill - for all of my issues - is always less risky than downhill.

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To hike is to pay attention to steps.

One spends one's entire day taking steps:  up steps, down steps, steps on gravel, steps on rocks, steps on dirt.  Stumbling steps where one catches one's self with one's poles - or not, and one goes down.  As the weight falls, I can feel the dust in my shoes and socks (and on my feet) as the day goes on, the small rocks that may creep into my shoe.  If I miss a water crossing, the sound of a wet foot on the surfaces and the feeling on my feet.

Steps.  Steps all day.

I do not do the same in my normal life.

In order to go anywhere, I need to step.  But I am not conscious of steps in the same way:  they are an unconscious thing that I do to get from point A to point B.  I may occasionally pay attention to stairs - or not, they may just be a thing I have to do. But largely level surfaces and gentle inclines lead me to ignore this primary element of movement.

Not so in the wild, of course.

It is amazing how draining a day having to pay attention to where you step every time can be.  Every step, up or down, is analyzed at some level even if you are not thinking about it: Am I secure?  Is this unsteady?  If I fall, which way do I fall? 

And then, the moment that you step - and something starts to move.  In this sense, at least, Iaijutsu has helped with reaction times - I was complimented more than once on my quick recoveries.

It does make me wonder: if we paid more attention to where we stepped, would we tread more carefully, both physically and metaphorically?

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Even though I am the tail end, I hit the Pass at 48 minutes, 3 minutes after the estimated time.   Although still behind the group, I do not feel like I was excessively slow.  This boosts my spirits.

At the top of the Pass, we are greeted by a pika.  This is the first time I think I have seen one.

But for every up, there is a down.  And so, we start the long descent.

The trail is rocky and well defined, but somewhat treacherous with loose rocks; thus, descent is slow. We come down slowly (again, I am trailing).  We are fortunate that the weather is cooperative (unlike looming rain, like last year).

We break for lunch, which is couscous with pita, humus, and cucumber.

Our descent continues down, now hitting occasional flat points and meadows.

One obstacle remains: Chocolate Ridge (below, that slight shoulder between the main hill and the next rock).  250 feet of more or less up without break.  At least this year it was not driving rain and wind as it was in 2022.

Why is it named Chocolate Ridge? Because you get a piece of chocolate for climbing it. (Yup, that is the story. Also, we did get the chocolate.)

Another descent occurs from there, through a trail with brush that has thankfully been cut back and a crossing of the Kern River (again, low this year) to our campsite at Junction Meadows.  The name comes from the conjunction of multiple trails:  The John Muir Trail and the Pacific Crest Trail meet here.

We set up camp and enjoy one last campfire here; after tonight we will remain above 10,000 ft. for the rest of the hike (where fires are prohibited).  Dinner is Mushroom Noodles and Corned Beef.

I am blessed - again - to have the sound of water lull me to sleep.