Climb Mount Whitney, the highest peak in the lower 48
At 14,505 feet above sea level, Mount Whitney is the highest peak in the lower 48 United States. Climbing Mount Whitney is a big physical challenge, but it’s also a logistical challenge, especially if you’re traveling to get there.
Among big or high peaks in the western United States, Mount Whitney via the standard route is technically straightforward. A well-worn trail works steadily up and gets rockier and more exposed as you climb.
Climbing Mount Whitney, however, is a very big physical effort, particularly if you’re climbing and descending in one day. There are varying numbers available in guidebooks and on the internet, but my GPS track, recorded via Strava, showed a 22-mile round trip and 6,900 feet of elevation gain.
For well-conditioned endurance athletes, that might not be a big deal. For average people who want to climb the highest point in lower 48 United States, it’s worth an honest evaluation of one’s skills and conditioning, and a great opportunity to train.
The Mount Whitney climbing route
Most day hikers choose the classic Mount Whitney Trail, a 22-mile non-technical round-trip that will challenge even very fit hikers.
The hike departs Whitney Portal, a campground, trailhead, and concessions station, situated on the east side of the Sierras at 8,367 feet, nearly 4,000 feet above the town of Lone Pine.
From Whitney Portal, the trail ascends the north canyon wall and then follows the canyon uphill, roughly following Lone Pine Creek, until you reach Trail Camp Pond at 12,000 feet.
Whitney Portal to Trail Camp
The first 6 miles to Trail Camp can be divided into two somewhat distinct sections.
For the first 3.5 miles to Outpost Camp, the trail meanders in and out of a pine forest, with some steep switchbacks and a big sandy meadow. You’ll pass Lone Pine Lake after 2.5 miles and 1,000 feet of fairly mellow climbing and arrive at Outpost Camp after another 1 mile and 1,000 feet. Outpost Camp at 10,360 feet is at the west end of Big Horn Sheep Park, a verdant meadow nestled among granite ramparts.
The standard climbing route from Whitney Portal to the Mount Whitney summit climbs 11 miles and nearly 7,000 vertical feet.
From Outpost Camp to Trail Camp, the trail quickly climbs above tree line and becomes very rocky. It’s not like hiking across a scree field (the rock is very solid), but the hike consists of a large number of granite step-ups and gentle sloping slabs.
At this point you’ll have hiked 6.3 miles, climbed 4,000 feet, and have an epic view of Mount Muir and Mount Whitney looming above the pond to the west.
Trail Camp to Whitney Summit
The upper climb above Outpost Camp consists of another two fairly distinct sections: the 99 switchbacks and the final 2-mile push from Trail Crest to the summit.
The 99 Switchbacks above Trail Camp climb nearly 1,800 feet.
The 99 switchbacks connect Trail Camp to the high ridge to the south and climb nearly 1,800 feet through the most exposed terrain of the hike. If its spring or early summer, this is where technical mountaineering skills are required to climb directly to the ridge, but for summer or early fall hikers the switchbacks are an easy path.
If you’ve got dicey weather (more on this later), this is an area to exercise caution. The rocks could get slick with rain, sleet, or snow, and there’s nowhere to hide from lightning if it’s threatening. There’s also a short exposed section with a weathered cable railing. This area often collects snow and ice, and the railing should not be trusted.
The 99 switchbacks lead to Trail Crest, a 13,700-foot pass that divides the eastern and western Sierra, affording views into the upper Kern River basin and Sequoia National Park, as well as back into the Lone Pine Creek basin and Owens Valley from which you climbed.
Hiking the final two miles toward Mount Whitney summit.
The final 2 miles from Trail Crest to Mount Whitney’s summit work along the west side of the summit ridge and afford awesome views of the Great Western Divide and upper Kern River Basin. The hiking can feel exposed in places, but the trail is very wide.
The most challenging part of this section apart from keeping an eye on the weather is mental. While there are only 700 feet more to climb, it’s over the course of 2 miles. So while it feels like the summit should be a few minutes away, it takes most people another hour or more to reach Mount Whitney’s summit.
How long will it take to climb Mount Whitney?
The U.S. Forest Service says to plan for 12 to 14 hours to climb to the Mount Whitney summit and back. Our group consisted of mixed fitness levels and did the round trip in 14 and a half hours, and my Strava statistics showed 11 hours of actual moving time.
Starting before sunrise will give you a jump on the day’s weather and ensure you’re well on your way down before dark if the going is slow, or if there’s sketchy weather in the forecast.
Red tape—how to get a Mount Whitney permit
To climb Mount Whitney, you’ll also need a permit, which is available through a randomized lottery. Applications can be made Feb. 1 – March 15 at recreation.gov for single-day or overnight permits. Lottery results are announced March 24.
The number of permits is limited from May 1 – Nov. 1. Only 100 single-day and 60 overnight permits are issued per day during that season. While permits are still required from Nov. 2 – April 30 when Mount Whitney is likely covered with snow, there is no limit.
Starting May 1, unclaimed lottery reservations are released for a second round of availability. Again, check recreation.gov for details.
Is climbing Mount Whitney dangerous?
Being exposed high on the 99 Switchbacks in a thunderstorm is an experience to be avoided.
With high altitude, mountain weather, a few steep and exposed sections of trail, and numerous rocky boulders, a number of things could go wrong climbing and descending Mount Whitney.
Hazards include sleet, snow, rain, and lightning; altitude sickness; exposure to the cold; and probably the biggest hazard may be twisting an ankle on the numerous rocks.
Climbing in winter, spring or early summer when there’s snow would bring an entirely different experience and suite of challenges—and would require a different skillset entirely. This article is about the standard summer hike.
Remember that everyone in your party is dependent on one another, and everyone should simultaneously be prepared to care for themselves. All members should carry and know how to use first-aid, extra layers, water treatment, and communicate in advance about how decisions will be made if something goes wrong.
How to Get to the Mt. Whitney Trail
The road to Whitney Portal is steep. Big trucks and RVs aren’t recommended. Mount Whitney is the pointy peak roughly straight above the gray car in this photo.
The most common way to access Mount Whitney is from the town of Lone Pine in the Owens Valley to the east of the Sierras. The nearest large airports are in Los Angeles and Reno. The nearest small airport is in Mammoth.
There is abundant dispersed camping in the Alabama Hills outside Lone Pine, and there are two permitted campgrounds, one at Whitney Portal and one in the desert at the base of the mountain about 2,000 feet lower.
The road from Lone Pine to Whitney Portal climbs 4,000 feet in 18 miles, with 2,000 feet of that in the final 3 miles. The road is paved, but it’s extremely steep and will strain most car engines. Large trailers and RVs are strongly discouraged.
There is abundant parking at Whitney Portal near the trailhead and Whitney Portal Store. If you’re camped at Whitney Portal Campground, strongly consider driving to the trailhead anyway, as it’s about a mile and 500 vertical feet higher than the campground.
Training for Mount Whitney
Training for Mount Whitney during the summer hiking season is about getting fit, not about developing climbing strength or honing mountaineering skills. In general, if you can do a big day of backpacking, you can probably hike Mount Whitney.
In writing this article, I did some research to see what other people have said about getting fit for Mount Whitney. In some cases, people have created extensive training programs that include a mix of gym workouts, jogging, and hiking.
I think this is overkill.
Your goal is to be able to churn out miles and elevation, and the best way to get in shape for that is to hike.
In the six to eight weeks before climbing Mount Whitney, I climbed two or three smaller peaks, went on numerous long dog walks of 3-5 miles, and went jogging about once a week. I typically engage in a resistance training program, but prior to climbing mount Whitney had been sitting that out due to an injury, and I don’t think that hurt my performance.
Mount Whitney packing list
Climbing Mount Whitney is a big endeavor, and you’ll need to be prepared for a wide range of weather, terrain, physical exertion, and emergencies.
Consider the following gear a good starting point:
Good quality hiking boots or shoes
A good backpack big enough to carry a day’s gear
Appropriate layers, including a waterproof shell, insulated hat, and gloves
Sunscreen, sun hat, and sun glasses
Hiking poles
First aid and blister kit
Water bottles, water filter, and ample calories
What went wrong on our Mount Whitney summit day
Setting out from Whitney Portal at 1:20 a.m.
Everyone in our Mount Whitney climbing group summited and returned to the car safely, but the day wasn’t without hiccups.
We climbed Mount Whitney on July 14, 2022, and left the trailhead at 1:20 a.m. under crystal-clear skies and an almost-full moon.
It became clear after a couple thousand feet that our fitness ranges varied. This wasn’t a big deal; in fact, I think we did a good job of regrouping every mile or so, but by the time we arrived at Trail Camp at 12,000 feet it was clear we weren’t climbing as fast as expected.
6 - 7 a.m. (Trail Camp to Trail Crest)
We enjoyed a clear-sky sunrise at 12,500 feet, and then I got my first nervous butterflies when we arrived at the top of the 99 Switchbacks at about 13,700 feet. It was 7 a.m.
We sat under clear blue skies and ate a snack, but we had our first view south and west where mildly threatening clouds were building on the horizon about four hours before the day’s afternoon thunderstorms were forecasted to arrive.
In total elevation climbed, we were within a few hundred feet of our objective, but Mount Whitney’s summit was still 2 very exposed miles away. To get back to Trail Crest where we sat would be 4 miles of hiking. To get to the summit and back to the bottom of the 99 Switchbacks—where weather would be less of a concern—was 6 exposed miles of hiking.
We talked briefly about the threat, but I was the only person in our group expressing concern, and the clouds on the horizon were far from convincing. Plus, we wanted to get to the summit.
7 - 9 a.m. (Trail Crest to Mount Whitney summit)
As with the climb to that point, the final 2 miles took longer than expected, and by the time everyone had snapped a few photos and eaten a snack, a light rain whipped our cheeks. It was 9 a.m.
9 - 10:40 a.m. (Mount Whitney summit to Trail Crest)
By the time we returned to the junction with Muir Trail, our group was fragmented again, separated by more than 20 minutes. We stopped and regrouped on a ledge where our slowest hiker said they needed to rest. It was 10:40 a.m.
Intent on keeping the group together, we sat and waited. The clouds had built into ominous knuckles of slate, and we were still 2,000 feet above Trail Camp, 3,500 feet above tree line, and still had to navigate the 99 Switchbacks.
11 a.m. - noon (Trail Crest to Trail Camp)
We hiked over Trail Crest where we’d had our first glimpse of the clouds four hours before and hadn’t even rounded the first switchback on the 99 Switchbacks when sleet began to pelt our cheeks and a flash of lightning was followed in a fraction of a second by an ear-splitting crack of thunder. The storm was directly on top of us.
With nowhere to hide, we tried to stay calm and worked steadily down toward cover and away from the peaks that helped produce the storm. Sleet accumulated a few inches deep on the switchbacks, and the lightning and thunder continued. The switchbacks—some of them atop cliffs—grew slippery. Once again, the group became fragmented.
A landslide erupted down the flank of a nearby peak, and the trail that had been a series of granite steps was transformed into a frothy, ankle-deep creek. With the fastest and slowest members of our group now separated by more than a half hour, we chose to split into two smaller groups, with one person volunteering to crawl under a rock and wait.
Noon - 2 p.m. (Trail Camp to Outpost Camp)
Our team finally regrouped around 2 p.m. in the trees at Outpost Camp, where we found ourselves bedraggled, cold, and sore. My IT bands were shot from descending too fast. I shared layers of down with another in our group, who shivered uncontrollably beneath soaked-through layers, and we all shared whatever food we had left.
What we got right and wrong on Mount Whitney
This is an admittedly dramatic telling of a story where everything worked out just fine, but I’m telling it to illustrate the hazards posed by Mother Nature and group dynamics. Our group did a lot of things right. We were well prepared, checked the weather, left early, stayed hydrated, and ate enough calories.
What we didn’t do was communicate in advance about if or when we’d turn around, and if that happened how we’d decide whether we turned around as a whole group or a subset of our group. Hiking at different paces doesn’t matter in fair conditions, but when our group became splintered we were unable to make decisions as a team and had to decide in uncertain and threatening conditions how to buddy up. Some of us were willing to rush toward safety; some of us weren’t. Those of us who rushed risked injury. Those who took their time risked more severe weather.
We all had good shoes; hiking poles; ample layers, hats, and gloves; decent rain protection; and plenty of food and water—and it all made a difference for us that day. I believe we were all self sufficient as long as we weren’t injured.
We had a debrief over beers that evening, and our slowest hiker was adamant that she didn’t mind being left behind. She believed herself (and was) slow and steady, and wasn’t freaked out by the weather. While I appreciate that she didn’t want to slow the group down (nobody wants to be in that position), the safest way to move in hazardous conditions in the mountains is to move as a group—or at least in pairs.
I’m not a professional mountaineer, but the fact is that I had the most experience in the mountains in that group and had put the trip together. When I sensed trouble at 7 a.m. at 13,7770 feet, I probably should have made the tough decision to rally our crew back toward more sheltered terrain. But I’ll be the first to admit that I’m glad to have reached the summit.
Right there is the sometimes hazardous crux of mountaineering.
Anyway, it was a day filled with a wide range of emotions from calm moonlit introspection, alpine reverence and awe, to consternation, fear, and resolve. But most of all it was a fresh dose of respect and adoration for the mountains, and gratitude for shared experience.