High Sierra Trail (CA) « Thread Started on Aug 10, 2010, 9:42pm »
Leor Pantilat has the FKT, 15h46m, from Whitney Portal to Crescent Meadow, including the summit of Mt Whitney, September 2, 2012. Before that, Brett Maune ran 18h39m, September 2, 2011. The previous FKT was Brian Robinson & Peter Bakwin, 24h58m August 19, 2010.
The High Sierra Trail runs 49 miles from Crescent Meadow in the Giant Forest area of Sequoia & Kings Canyon National Park to a trail junction with the John Muir Trail at Wallace Creek. From there the HST & JMT are the same trail to the summit of Mt Whitney. Hikers must continue another 11 miles from the summit to reach the trail head at Whitney Portal. So, as a practical matter, the HST is really 72 miles from Crescent Meadow to Whitney Portal. Reading most descriptions of the HST one gets the impression that it technically includes only the 49-mile section west of the JMT. However, the Mt Whitney summit plaque (below) proves that the HST reaches the summit.
Most hikers travel in the HST in the west-to-east direction, which allows some time for acclimation to the higher terrain to the east. However, the higher altitude of Whitney Portal (8360') vs. Crescent Meadow (6700') argues for speed attempts to be done east-to-west. This is especially true since Mt Whitney, just 11 miles from Whitney Portal, is at an altitude of 14,500 feet, providing for a net loss of nearly 8000 feet from this point to Crescent Meadow. The permit process (below) also makes east-to-west trips more practical.
A note on permits: To do the HST in one push (without camping) one requires only a day-use permit for Mt Whitney. This page describes the procedure for obtaining permits. Basically, you can enter the lottery in February (by mail), or you can show up by 2PM the day before your hike at the Interagency Visitor Center in Lone Pine and try for (by another lottery) a walk-in permit. Walk-in permits are normally available, but definitely not guaranteed. Even if you have a permit reservation from the February lottery you must still pick it up at the Interagency Visitor Center in Lone Pine the day before your trip.
Despite the quality of the route & long history of this trail, speed trips on the HST are rare. Perhaps the 300-mile, 5.5-hour car shuttle for a 72 mile run has something to do with this! Also, the HST is a VERY committing route. Once you drop down off the west side of Whitney the bail outs are extremely long and will deposit you at remote trail heads a LONG way from your car.
At 6:00AM on 2 September 2007 Marcia Rasmussen set out to run the HST in a single push, starting at Whitney Portal. Marcia skipped the 4.8 mile out-and-back from Trail Crest to the summit of Mt Whitney, so technically she did not run the entire HST. She arrived at Crescent Meadow exactly 30 hours later. Her detailed report is below, and speaks beautifully of the love of the mountains that serves as the foundation for many speed trips.
The first speed run of the entire HST (including Whitney) of which we are aware was done by Brian Robinson and Peter Bakwin, starting at Whitney Portal at 4:45AM on 19 August 2010. Splits from their 24h58m trip are below. Robinson was unable to train at altitude and had difficulty on Whitney, which cost a lot of energy and left him calorically depleted. The pair soldiered on, but took a wrong turn at around 2AM just 6 miles from Crescent Meadow, adding about 2 hours to their trip. They recorded splits as follows: Whitney Portal 0h00m Trail Crest 3h01m Mt Whitney 3h57m Trail Crest 4h46m Wallace Creek (JMT junction) 7h40m Lower Kern Canyon 10h50m Kaweah Gap 16h19m Bearpaw Meadow 19h24m Crescent Meadow 24h58m
Subsequently, Brett Maune lowered the FKT to 18h39m on Sept. 2, 2011, as reported below. One year later, Leor Pantilat recorded an excellent 15h46m, as reported below, along with Pantilat's usual stunning photos!
Sunday of Labor Day weekend is a busy day for the Mt. Whitney Trail. I am shocked to see numerous used poop bags left alongside the trail, as if it were garbage collection day on the mountain. When I stop at Trail Camp to refill my water bottle, the water source there is polluted with chunks of someone's discarded pasta. So, after completing the ninety-some switchbacks shoulder to shoulder with the hordes, I am pleased NOT to accompany them all to the summit. When I turn off alone onto the High Sierra Trail, someone calls out to me that I have made a wrong turn. I grin. In this case, it was most definitely NOT a wrong turn.
I leave Whitney Portal at 6:00 AM with the intention of running the 71-mile High Sierra Trail nonstop. At Sandy Meadow, somewhere around mile 16, I meet a gentleman hefting a large backpack, with a clean white tea towel folded and hung carefully from his chest strap. "Where are you headed?" he asks.
"Giant Forest." I try to sound casual.
"You've got a long way to go." The gentleman appears to think about this a little more. "You've got a REALLY long way to go," he said again, eyeing my tiny day pack curiously. "When do you plan to get there?"
"Tomorrow afternoon." And then, to add a little more credibility, I add, "I run a little."
Another pause.
"Why would you want to do that?" From his expression, I can see that this is a real question. He genuinely wants to know why someone would run quickly through this beautiful country, rather than taking time to savor every step.
I nod. "Well, I've done it the slow way too. Sometimes it's nice to get rid of the heavy backpack. It's a feeling of lightness and freedom, to glide along almost effortlessly though the high country." I explain that if I go nonstop, I'm spared the weight of sleeping gear and a heavy food-storage canister to protect my food from bears while I sleep.
The gentleman appears thoughtful. He looks at my tiny runner's pack, looks at his own heavily-loaded backpack, and looks up at the trail ahead of him, as it switchbacks endlessly up the back side of Mt. Whitney. He nods quietly. I think, for the first time, he understands the beauty of trail running.
"I've got to be going. Have a nice time on Mt. Whitney." I turn and pad across Sandy Meadow. A soft breeze ripples through my hair, and I suddenly feel I haven't a care in the world.
The gentleman turns and starts up the trail in the other direction. It may be my imagination, but I think I hear a soft sigh escape his lips.
Afternoon approaches, and dark clouds begin to gather over the high peaks. I reach Wallace Creek, where the High Sierra Trail and the John Muir trail diverge. I follow the High Sierra Trail along Wallace Creek as it dives sharply downhill, though a rocky canyon. The creek bubbles and gurgles and cascades noisily toward the Kern River canyon below. Again, I feel the breeze in my hair, but this time it is cooler, and it accompanied by the rumbling of thunder. It's time to get off the ridge. I pick up my pace slightly, hoping to reach the relative safety of the Kern Canyon before the storm breaks.
The upper Kern Canyon is a jungle of bright green Manzanita brush, with twisted red trunks-a bright contrast to the white granite walls of the canyon. Occasional thickets of aspen rustle in the breeze of the oncoming storm. The wind carries a shower of aspen leaves, just barely tinged with gold. I feel a sprinkle of rain, driven by the wind, but in a few minutes, the storm dies down. Not far down the trail I meet two middle-aged women, who stop and ask directions. They are wearing rain gear, and they very obviously have just been on the receiving end of the downpour I missed. We stop and chat for a few minutes. It is evening and we are twenty-five miles from the nearest road. Eyeing my tiny runner's pack, the women begin to ask questions. I explain that I'm doing a nonstop run of the High Sierra Trail. They reply that they're taking several days to cover the same ground. I laugh and explain that they are traveling in the uphill direction. When you travel this trail east to west, it's mostly downhill, and much faster. But they were not convinced. I'm sure they went home and told their friends they met an elite distance runner out in the mountains. If only they knew.
Nine miles of trail follow the Kern River through its canyon. As the river drops in elevation, manzanita and aspen give way to thick pine forest. Darkness begins to fall in the forest. In the periphery, my tired eyes begin to catch movement. I look and there's nothing there. I remember a dream I had recently, in which the glowing green eyes of a mountain lion followed me in the darkness. My footsteps quicken. Suddenly there's a flash of tawny color, crashing through the brush. My heart leaps to my throat. Oh, it's only a deer.
I stop at a hot spring along the riverbank and take a few moments to bathe. The steaming hot water soothes my tired muscles and dissolves the salt crust from my hair. I celebrate the moment with a piece of chocolate I've been saving. I could stay here for a very long time, but I still have many miles to cover before I sleep. I am not quite at the halfway point of my run. I force myself out of the hot spring into the chilly evening air, clean and refreshed. I am ready to tackle the switchbacks, as the trail climbs the canyon wall and ascends to the Chagoopa Plateau.
Tyger, tyger, burning bright
In the forests of the night.
The poetry of William Blake strolls across my consciousness as I pass through mile after mile of pitch-black forest. There are no tigers here, and the only thing burning bright is the light of my headlamp. I am comfortable alone in the forest at night. There is very little to be afraid of in these mountains. But, yes, things do occasionally happen to people who wander far off into the mountains at night, and those thoughts do not escape me entirely. I remember John's last words to me, as he kissed me goodbye early that morning. "Have fun. Don't get eaten."
Finally, the moon begins to rise, and the dark forest is transformed into a moonlit wonderland. High peaks have appeared on my left, and I can see Sawtooth Peak in the distance, bathed in moonlight. On and on, mile after mile, the pine forest turns to scrub fir and then high alpine meadow dotted with lakes. The moon is overhead now, and I find that I can turn off my headlamp and see quite well. A babbling stream runs through the meadow, and nearby waterfalls reflect the moonlight so that they appear to shimmer and glow. I stop for a long moment and take a mental snapshot of the scene. What a wonder it is to be alone in the high mountains at night. To move on and on through the night, through miles and miles of this high country, is nothing less than magical.
As I climb higher and higher toward Kaweah Gap, the soft meadow becomes strewn with boulders. The trail becomes rocky, and it's impossible to move without the clatter of large rocks underfoot. The terrain here is not steep, so I can manage a slow shuffle-which makes a terrible racket. It is 3:00 A.M., and, as far as I know, I am the only human within miles and miles. Suddenly two bright lights appear about fifty feet behind me. And then it dawns on me what has happened. Apparently these two backpackers had pitched their tent very close to the trail. In the darkness, the tent looked just like one of the rocks. The hikers are awakened by the clatter of a large creature running almost overtop of their tent. They stumble, bleary-eyed, out of the tent and shine their lights all around, but see nothing. I am standing a few yards away, out of range of their lights, giggling softly to myself. If you hear a story about some backpackers whose tent was nearly run over by Bigfoot himself, now you know the real story.
Shortly after 3:30 A.M., I cross Kaweah Gap, and begin my downward journey toward Giant Forest. In the moonlight, I can see that this is a breathtaking granite canyon scattered with many small lakes. The largest of these is Precipice Lake, aptly named. Down, down, down into the canyon I descend, slowed considerably by loose cobbles underfoot. The trail is narrow in many spots, with a sharp dropoff at the very edge of the trail. I peer into the abyss, and shine my headlamp into the depths, but I cannot see the bottom. This is not the place to run. I creep along at a very careful walk. This is the section of trail dubbed "The Golden Staircase." Several miles of this trail was hewn out of solid granite, at considerable expense. Many people mention a short tunnel along this section, but I think the tunnel is the very least of the wonders. This whole section of trail, between Kaweah Gap and Bearpaw Meadow, is simply stunning. And it isn't for the weak-kneed, in either sense of the expression.
Dawn begins to break when I'm about halfway down the canyon. The change is subtle at first, but then I begin to notice that I can see the bottom of the abyss. It is much farther down than I had ever imagined. My legs, thanks to any hard miles, have turned to limp spaghetti by now. But those same miles--and a night without sleep--have numbed my brain as well. I should probably be afraid here, but I simply glance over the edge and acknowledge that I'd better continue to be really careful. One slip, and they'd probably never find the body.
After Bearpaw Meadow, the trail is quite tame. It's almost an anticlimax. But by now, I'm ready to be done. I scamper down the last ten miles of forested trail, into the giant sequoia grove at Crescent Meadow, finishing right at noon. My journey has taken exactly thirty hours. I have arrived earlier than expected, so I catch the shuttle to Lodgepole and eat some lunch.
When I arrive back at Giant Forest, I see our truck parked in the lot. John and I have arranged for this. If we miss each other, he is supposed to stash the key underneath the truck and leave a note saying where he has gone. When I reach the truck, there's no key and no note. I don't know if he has gone up the trail looking for me or gone hiking somewhere else. Exhausted, I curl up on a large flat rock and rest.
After several hours, my dad appears. He was with John, and tells me that John has hiked up the trail looking for me. By now, John thinks I am overdue, and I'm sure he is worried. It's getting dark, and I'm beginning to shiver. My warmer clothes are still dampened with sweat. At least my dad has the key to the truck, so I can get warm. Finally, about 9:00 P.M., I am rested enough to try hiking back up the trail to look for John. I'm beginning to worry a little. I put on my headlamp and begin to trudge back up the hill, periodically shouting John's name and blowing my whistle. No response. After only two miles, I am simply too exhausted to continue. I am beginning to stagger, and cannot negotiate the edge of the cliff safely, so I return to the truck. My dad is still there, but he has a foot injury that prevents him from hiking. There's nothing to do but curl up in a blanket and wait.
About 2:00 A.M. I awake to a flicker of light and hear John's voice. Thank goodness! We each tell our story. Believing that I was still on the trail, John had hiked about five miles up the trail in the afternoon. That is, he had hiked five miles up the trail without carrying a flashlight. As it grew dark, he turned and headed back down, but the forest quickly became pitch-black. He lost the trail for a little while, and crawled on hands and knees, feeling for the trail with his hands. He had his camera along, and the camera had a flash, so he tried to use the flash to get a momentary glimpse of the trail. But the camera battery was dead. Eventually he found the trail again, and made his way back in the dark.
Except for John's little blunder in the forest, I was pleased with my trans-Sierra journey. After doing this route, I wonder why I haven't heard of more people running the High Sierra Trail. Running it non-stop, I saw the Sierra in a way that I couldn't by any other means. I saw the vastness of the mountain wilderness. Every time I venture up into the mountains I vow to return. We're rapidly approaching the first Sierra snowfall, and very soon the high country will be under snow. But I'll be back. Maybe on skis this winter, but certainly I will run the high country next year. I can't stay away.
-- Marcia Rasmussen, 4 Sept. 2007
« Last Edit: Sept 7, 2012, 8:47am by Peter Bakwin »
Re: High Sierra Trail (CA) « Reply #2 on Mar 13, 2011, 4:37pm »
Yes, it has been done west to east. Ted Nunes and Jeff Pierce ran Crescent Meadow to Whitney Portal. I believe that was in 2008. I do not remember their time, but I believe it was somewhere in the 30 hour realm. The route is much more difficult west to east.
Re: High Sierra Trail (CA) « Reply #3 on Mar 13, 2011, 5:14pm »
Peter, lovely website, but I find it a little bit offensive that you discount my HST run, as if I were disqualified in some way by not going to the Whitney summit. I must say that I did not set out to set any sort of record. I simply wanted to run the route, and since I had summited Whitney many times, I chose not to on that occasion.
The truth is that there is a bit of disagreement over what actually constitutes the HST. After doing a little digging, I would submit that our best resource might be the Starr's Guide, written by Walter Starr, Jr. in 1948. Starr describes the HST as a trail that goes from the JMT (at Wallace Creek) down to Giant Forest. The Sequoia National Park website also gives this version of the HST. http://www.nps.gov/seki/planyourvisit/high-sierra-trail.htm/. The plaque you picture is commemorative in nature, and not intended as a trail sign. It marks the completion of a trail network, which includes the JMT and HST, though the HST itself does not reach the point where the plaque is placed. The HST is a connector trail from the JMT to the trailhead at the west in Crescent Meadow. Of course, nobody hikes JUST the "official" HST, because it ends out in the middle of nowhere. Everyone wants to go either to Whitney summit or Whitney Portal trailhead, so it is generally done to include one or both of those trails.
But...you want to discount my run because I didn't do it the way you did?
Re: High Sierra Trail (CA) « Reply #4 on Mar 14, 2011, 9:23am »
Hi Marcia, By no means do I want to discount your run. For the purposes of the fkt (whatever it's worth) I just want to be clear about exactly what everyone did, and as clear as possible about what the route of the HST actually is. I agree with you that the end point of the HST is not clear, as I discuss above. However, to me the summit plaque is convincing evidence that the trail goes to the summit. Why would the NPS put a commemorative plaque miles away from the actual trail? Anyway, there are many disagreements of this kind about where some trails start, finish or go, but these things really only matter in the context of an fkt attempt. I totally respect your trip and experience, as i think anyone who reads your beautiful report will. Sorry if it didn't come off that way in my post above. I'm sure someone will blow away Brian & my time, which I regard only as a kind of place holder. Because of the confusion/disagreement about the end point, it's important to record splits along the way, as we did.
Yes, it has been done west to east. Ted Nunes and Jeff Pierce ran Crescent Meadow to Whitney Portal. I believe that was in 2008. I do not remember their time, but I believe it was somewhere in the 30 hour realm. The route is much more difficult west to east.
Thanks Marcia. It looks like we'll have 2 groups doing it, one in each direction to simplify transportation.
Hi Marcia, By no means do I want to discount your run. For the purposes of the fkt (whatever it's worth) I just want to be clear about exactly what everyone did, and as clear as possible about what the route of the HST actually is. I agree with you that the end point of the HST is not clear, as I discuss above. However, to me the summit plaque is convincing evidence that the trail goes to the summit. Why would the NPS put a commemorative plaque miles away from the actual trail? Anyway, there are many disagreements of this kind about where some trails start, finish or go, but these things really only matter in the context of an fkt attempt. I totally respect your trip and experience, as i think anyone who reads your beautiful report will. Sorry if it didn't come off that way in my post above. I'm sure someone will blow away Brian & my time, which I regard only as a kind of place holder. Because of the confusion/disagreement about the end point, it's important to record splits along the way, as we did.
About the plaque. I had all kinds of questions about this, the first of which is the 1930 completion date for the "John Muir Trail/High Sierra Trail." Neither of these trails was completed in 1930! So I called the Sequoia Park Historian to ask. His answer was that the JMT and HST were considered one trail system during the time of construction. The whole system was actually called the "High Sierra Trail" in the beginning, before one particular line was named after John Muir. But, according to the Historian, the plaque was actually to commemorate the completion of the Mt. Whitney Trail--the switchbacks and the trail along the Crest, in particular. That explains the date, as well as the "highest trail in the United States" reference. So the plaque has very little to do with the present-day HST and JMT, except that all of those trails were considered to be one TRAIL SYSTEM at that time. The current designations came later.
This explains the plaque, but does very little to answer the question of where the HST actually goes. I have learned part of the answer, but not the part that matters in this context, regarding the eastern terminus. Meanwhile, I have become interested in the HST history for its own sake. The story is quite colorful. I will have the opportunity to speak with the retired Park Historian next week, and plan to pick his brain. He has delved into the HST history more than the current Historian. The current Historian offered to let me paw through the Park Archives, where he says there are "two boxes" of primary documents from the trail construction era. If I find enough material that is not widely available, I may write something. In any case, I'll check back here if I find any good answers.
Meanwhile, as long as there are multiple versions or opinions of any particular trail, wouldn't it be a little classier simply to list the version that each person used?
Re: High Sierra Trail (CA) « Reply #7 on Sept 9, 2011, 6:01pm »
My wife and I backpacked the High Sierra Trail west-to-east over five days in 2006. We were not in the best of shape and got horrendous blisters from our boots before we even got to Bearpaw. As a last resort to salvage the trip we tried hiking in the sandals we were carrying. To our surprise they worked quite well. We hiked the rest of the trail with them and carried our boots. That was the last time we ever wore hiking boots.
Flash forward five years and I was preparing for quite a different trip on the HST. My goal was to break Brian and Peter’s record and to dayhike the full trail. I thought I had a pretty good chance of succeeding. In general I was in pretty good shape with the exception of not being properly conditioned for such a long continuous effort. I hadn’t done anything exceeding 20 miles for several months and suspected I could experience significant suffering by the end. I thought, “How bad could it possibly get?” and decided to go for it once I was miraculously able to arrange for transport to and from the trailheads. Elena Sherman, a coworker, would drop me off at Whitney Portal and my wife would pick me up at Crescent Meadows—if I made it.
After sleeping a few hours at the trailhead I started running at 1 AM on September 2—or at least it was my intention to run. The three days of sleeping in my altitude tent and at the trailhead apparently did little to encourage enough red blood cell production. I had to stop running after only a few seconds even though the trail at Whitney Portal starts out relatively flat. I resigned myself to my predicament and settled into a fast walk up Whitney. I made steady progress and topped out after 3:12—still well before first light. I signed the register, put on warmer clothes for the freezing descent, and started running downhill four minutes after arriving.
I decided on the early 1 AM start so I could hopefully run the long descent through the Kern Canyon in shade and before it got too hot. The consequence of this, however, was that my descent from Whitney would be in complete darkness and slowed as a result. To make matters worse I even got off trail where the trail leveled off and crossed some slabs. I ended up going far to the left and became concerned when I found myself on some pretty steep terrain. I eventually reasoned that if I followed stream drainages then I must intersect the trail. I could see there were streams (now) far to my right and so I down climbed the prominence I was on and cut back across to the streams. I soon found the trail but probably lost a good 10-15 minutes in the fiasco. I resumed running downhill towards Crabtree and in a few minutes I could tell the sky was lightening with the approaching dawn.
On the way to Wallace Creek the altitude was really starting to affect me. I felt like throwing up and had to stop eating for a bit (I can now commiserate with how Brian must have felt). As I approached Wallace Creek I faced a choice of whether to continue or not. Not only was the altitude a problem but I was already feeling the miles. I had already done more miles than I had at any point in the past several months but was only about 30% finished. Once I descended into Kern Canyon I would be committed to finishing at Crescent Meadows. I decided to go for it. The uncertainty in continuing was exhilarating.
The descent down to Kern Canyon was fabulous and was soon topped by the run down the canyon itself. This has to be one of the best forested runs in the Sierra! I was surprisingly able to run most of the way from Junction Meadow down to the bridge past the hot springs during the cool crisp morning air. I virtually never was in direct sunlight. For reference for anyone else ever wanting to do the same, I started the descent into the canyon from Wallace Creek at 7:06 AM and reached the lower end of Kern Canyon at 9:47 AM.
The ascent out of the canyon was a different story. It was exposed and hot. I trudged along up to the Chagoopa Plateau. Once I got up to the plateau I kept my eyes open for the trail junction to Moraine Lake. Somehow I never saw the junction and was annoyed when I saw Moraine Lake in the distance through the trees. I wound up taking the 0.7 mile longer detour to Moraine Lake and lost another 10-15 minutes. The hike along the Chagoopa Plateau was long, hot and uneventful, but I was able to run much of the descent down to the Big Arroyo Canyon.
I quickly hiked up to Kaweah Gap and was pleasantly surprised to only be 15 minutes behind my time sheet at this point. Mentally I had considered Kaweah Gap as the end of the hike, though this turned out to be premature. At this point no major climb remained and I still felt I could run the downhill sections. Overall I was happy with my progress and thought I would be able to easily break 18 hours. I ran all the way down to Lake Hamilton whereupon I descended into a furnace. The trail was now on the south facing side of the canyon and it was now the peak heat of the day—a payback from the cool Kern Canyon traversal. Where the rough trail permitted I still ran a lot all the way down to the bridge before the climb up to Bearpaw, but I started feeling quite bad. I’m not sure what the problem was, but now think I was dehydrated with an electrolyte imbalance. General exhaustion surely didn’t help either. Regardless what the problem was I had no energy at this point and the ascent up to Bearpaw was an endless slog. Even the descent from Bearpaw to Crescent Meadows was bad. Running was definitely out of the question and I thought I might not even finish. Each small climb was mentally devastating. Six miles from the finish I remember thinking that if a helicopter magically materialized to offer me a ride I would have gladly taken it. I resorted to counting the estimated remaining minutes to distract my mind from my condition and to keep going. The end turned into a death march. Eventually I made it to Crescent Meadows just as the last of the daylight was fading.
My splits: I started at Whitney Portal precisely at 1 AM (0:00) Outpost Camp 1:01 Trail Camp 1:47 Trail Crest 2:32 Whitney 3:12 (Departed 3:16) Crabtree Meadow 5:09 Wallace Creek 6:06 Junction Meadow 6:53 Kern Hot Springs 8:23 Lower Kern Canyon 8:47 Junction in Arroyo 12:13 Kaweah Gap 13:14 Bearpaw Meadow 15:20 Crescent Meadows 18:39
Re: High Sierra Trail (CA) « Reply #8 on Oct 3, 2011, 6:51pm »
I climbed Eagle Scout Peak via Kaweah Gap from Crescent Meadows as an out-and-back in 9:38 on 9/25/2011. The trail portion sans climb of Eagle Scout was around 7.5 hours roundtrip for the 42ish miles to Kaweah Gap and back. Eagle Scout is a great scramble south of the Gap - it's the culmination of the impressive granite walls that tower above Precipice Lake. Topping out just above 12,000 ft, the summit of Eagle Scout provides a great perspective on the Hamilton Lakes/Valhallas Cirque below as well as the Kaweah Range across the Big Arroyo. I would love to do the complete HST... if only somebody was willing to spend almost as much time shuttling!
Photos and splits here. Nice photos from 2010 here.
Re: High Sierra Trail (CA) « Reply #9 on Sept 3, 2012, 7:46pm »
On September 2, 2012 I ran the High Sierra Trail from Whitney Portal to Crescent Meadow in 15h46m starting at 3:19 am and finishing at 7:05 pm. It was great to arrive at Whitney's summit just as the sun was rising. A special thanks to Joel Lanz who assisted with the pick-up at Crescent Meadows.
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