Mount Langley 14,042 feet

Mount Langley #2 in the Summit Fever Challenge

9th tallest mountain in California
June 7, 2014

by Stefanie Notte

When does a hiking trip truly start?  The initial moment when you decide where and when?  The moments of planning leading up to the trip?  The minute you leave your house en route to the destination? When you get to the trailhead?  Well, for me, I have to say my trip to Mt. Langley started last August when I first planned on summiting this beast as a training hike for Mt. Kilimanjaro, but was sidelined due to an unforeseen ankle injury.  It has been on my mind ever since.  This April, there were talks of resurrecting the Mt. Langley adventure, but due to weather and snowy conditions it was unattainable, or simply: it wasn’t the right time.  

Friday, June 6th I was on my way to Lone Pine, the small town with MASSIVE mountains, the largest of course, Mt. Whitney.  I scooped up a permit, with no real accent plan in place.  Was I going to camp at Cottonwood Lakes and make a two day trip, was I going to bust it out in one long day?? The permit god discussed these options with me, and I left the ranger station with an overnight permit, but the challenge of a single day hike started to peak my interest.  As I drove to Elevation, the gear store in the middle of town, it felt real, I started to get that nervous/ anxious feeling in my stomach.  After obtaining crampons and talking with Blair (my gear guy), the dude that AMPED me up, I finally made a plan: camp at the trailhead (10,000 feet elevation), hike those 23 miles via New Army Pass, and call it a day, skip the overnighter.  At 14,042 feet, Mt. Langley is one of the smaller 14ers, so in my mind I categorized this as EASY.  This word is possibly the worst word to describe a hike, especially when elevation is a factor.  Damn those expectations, I know better.

Since I was facing an EASY hike the following day, I wisely spent my 12 hours of acclimating from sea level getting shitfaced drunk at Jake’s Saloon.  I wish I could blame elevation here, however, I’ve established a habit of getting a bit drunky the night before any and all physically challenging events.  I’m not entirely sure why I do this, but now, I just embrace it.  I walked in through the quintessential saloon doors, escaping from the diabolical 97 degree heat, into an air conditioned bar with MJ taking over the sound waves (Man in the Mirror).  I bellied up, ordered the usual (Lagunitas IPA), and scanned the characters in my vicinity, with my eyes stopping on Rennie, the biker dude at the end of the bar.  He became my instant friend, as he didn’t shy away from the talkative girl sitting by herself in a bar where the woman to man ratio was 1:20.  The Shark sponsored the 10 games of pool (my record for the night 2-8, I’ve lost my Pittsfield touch), all my music selections, and then was kind enough to take me out to dinner.  Whatta guy.  

Jake's Saloon

After dinner, Rennie and I parted ways, and then I was off to the trailhead to set up camp and whatnot. The 24 mile Horseshoe Meadow Road climbed about 6500 feet in elevation, bringing me up to 10,000 feet for the night.  In hindsight, I should have gotten here ASAP to acclimatize... my overconfidence in not needing to acclimate before huge hikes may have gotten the best of me....

An excerpt from my journal:

“10:09pm: Im here at the Cottonwood Lakes/New Army Pass Trailhead after a delicious Chinese dinner that The Shark treated me to.  Well, now I have two options: 1) set up camp in the dark and break down for a 4 am start time or 2) do as I did my last epic adventure in Lone Pine: sleep it off in the Mini and be ready to go as soon as I wake up. Hmmmm, well I'm thinking #2 sounds like the relief I need after catching a buzz earlier tonight.  It's a lovely 45 degrees out right now at this elevation, and everything seems to be going flawlessly.

Really... Really?!  I just noticed my leftover dinner leaked all over my passenger seat.  So much brown sauce everywhere! Dear bears of the Sierra, please don't mess wit da Mini! I am in no mood to deal with this.  On that note, I'm throwing in the towel. Tomorrow: Mt. Langley, the elusive peak that has been so close yet so dang unreachable for far too long.

This early Hit The Trail time was ambitious, I ended up waking up at 4:20am and started my trek just as the sun peaked over the ridge: 5:30 am.  As I leisurely walked through Horseshoe Meadow, I was contemplating my day: The Ranger Station stated that there would be lots of snow, and the terrain may be slightly dangerous in some spots.  This confirmed what some insider info I received from the man I met on the JMT forum: he told me he almost became a victim of Old Army Pass two weeks prior, and I should avoid that route at all costs.  I had no idea what I was facing, but I did know that my pounding headache was not subsiding on its own and that’s when I drank 1/4 of my water supply for the day, along with 2 Rapid Release Advil Gel Caps.  

At 8:35 am I took my first map break... This is where I lost the trail due to snowy patches getting in the way.  I ended up taking the more exhausting route, a rock scramble to the base of New Army Pass.  I ate some baby carrots to fuel up, and kept on truckin'.  I was feeling okay, but was battling either a hangover or AMS symptoms, and I was not going to let it get the best of me.  

High Lake, with the morning sun

At the base of NAP I became reacquainted with the trail, and marched up the pass, which consisted of looooooong switchbacks at a mellow grade.  This was a seemingly endless part of the trail, and the first time of the day some real elevation gain was happening.  Essentially, I only had to conquer 4000 feet for the day, but shit... it felt quite different today.  And then it happened, I got passed by a fellow solo hiker, ugh, I hate being passed.  But, he was polite about it, commenting on his lighter load.  It’s true I had about 20 pounds in my pack, but this was a training hike, and I was prepared to stay the night in the off chance I fell off a cliff (in my drunken stupor the night before, I forgot to relay my travel plans to my emergency person...another amateur move).   At the top of the pass there was a snowy patch that I had to walk up, I though this was a good place to boot up and put on my new awesome mountaineering boots.  

At the top of the pass (12,300 ft) I realized my trail runners would have been fine because there was no snow to speak of for the next few miles.  I caught up with the man who passed me, he was perched on a rock just chillin'.  As we were chatting, I mentioned that I lived in SLO, and I like to travel to wherever to climb big mountains. This is where his jaw nearly hit the rock he was sitting on.  This man was also from San Luis Obispo, teaches at the very school that I attend, and likes to do the same crazy shit I do. WTF?!  Yes, it makes sense, this is the perfect place for someone like me to meet people.... He was on his way to summit Cirque Peak, just south of New Army Pass.  And I was off heading north, to lose about 800 feet in elevation just to regain it on a scree field.  Aside from just being longer in general, this is one down sides of NAP (compared to OAP), I hate losing elevation.  

Well, it seemed as though I had a skip in my step after meeting my new friend, and I forgot how shitty I was feeling for a few minutes.  That all changed once I was back to regaining elevation and somehow lost the footpath (created by the two Russians who passed me when I was standing on top of NAP).  As I gained about 1000 feet in elevation, I was on a Class 2 rock scramble, and was moving slow.  It really is a strange feeling knowing what one is capable of on most days, and how the higher up you are, the more challenging simple movements get.  

I knew I had to get further east, so I was trying to make my way over and ended up in the first of two situations of the day.  I had to get through a snowy patch, about 50 feet of it, and thought is was going to be EASY.  Well shit.  This snow was quite cumbersome, it was too soft to stand on, but it laid oh so deceivingly on top of these giant boulders.  I used my trekking poles as probes, trying to find a path with the most resistance.... until that moment where I fell through and was up to my elbows in the fucking snow surrounded by giant fucking boulders.  I was in deep.  My first reaction was pure panic... you know, when your heart is beating so hard that you can’t breathe.  After about 60 seconds,okay, more like five seconds, I took that breath.  And another. My 20 pound pack felt like 50, and my legs were burning from the icy, cold snow.  My only recent rock climbing experience was climbing up a 5-9 chimney, and now that was exactly what I had to do to get out of this predicament.  I took my pack off, placed it in a spot where I could retrieve it with my ice axe, and I shimmied my ass out of that sink hole... Megan and Cristian, thank you for teaching me how to do this!  

At 1:45 pm, I, Stefanie Notte, was standing on top of the southern most 14er in California.  WAAHOOOO!  This was my 2nd 14er of the year, and the first one I’ve done solo.  Holy shit, what a great feeling!  My Russian friends were still hanging out at the top, and on June 7th, I was the third and last person to bag Langley that day.  Okay, time to go.  I spent a good 30 minutes up there, taking in the amazing view.  Just north, I could see Mt. Williamson, the 2nd highest peak in California, with the reputation of being one of the most difficult to climb.  

Old Army Pass, from the turn around point 

I got down the scree/ rock scramble much easier this time... I staying glued to that damn footpath.  That is, until I entertained the idea of taking Old Army Pass down, shedding some distance off from the over all trek.  Here I met Jim, he was a good ol’ Iowan who got denied on his summit attempt.  He was hanging out at the top of OAP when I said I’m going to attempt a descent from here... and in comes situation two of two for the day.  Okay, I should have known better, but I am a sucker for a challenge.  Yes, this pass is steep as shit, yes it was covered in that horrible snow, and well... here I was pushing my sanity to questionable limits.  I got down about 20 feet.  I looked down, and it seemed as though there was nowhere to go... the pitch went inward.  I looked left, it was a sheer rock face.  I looked right, ughhh, snow for days.  And then, that post I read two days ago popped into my head: the one about the poor 31 year old who lost his life descending OAP in 2012.  Today was not the day.  That’s when I looked up, it’s the only way out. In my journal, I stated that “I GOT DENIED” but that's not exactly what happened.  Instead, I made the wiser choice, and I walked away from this situation.  And then there was Jim, he was still just hanging out.  

We walked together for a bit, but he moved slow.  Again, I was a Chatty Cathy and talked his ear off for about two miles. He said I was like a “female boy scout”.  Jim, what the hell does that mean?  I lollygagged with him for a bit longer and then I just had to go.  I was ready to get off this mountain.  I all but ran those last 6 miles from Horseshoe Meadow.  I got to my car, which in all reality, is the best feeling after a day of hiking, only second to summiting.  And yes, I could have camped that night, but instead, I drove back to San Luis Obispo. It was, after all, the weekend before finals.

Dear Mount Langley, 

Thank you for making an honest woman out of me.  You may not be the most challenging of the 14ers, but you are by no means an easy climb.  You taught me that although I think I’m invincible to altitude, I am not.  This was a good lesson for me, since I am currently sitting in a coffee shop (not a bar), gazing over my shoulder at my next challenge: Mt. Shasta (due to finals week, there was a one week delay from summiting this beast and writing about it). 

xoxo
Stefanie