I had a particular 14r on my mind in the southern Sierra. I wanted to be ready for it, so in preparation for it I drove out to Cottonwood Lakes, trying to do things right, to acclimate a day prior to the hike. I thought elevation was what I needed, and to acclimate. That may have been the case, but things did not go according to plan.
You can watch a short documentary of my adventure hiking 15 miles in the Golden Trout Wilderness here.
I have hiked to Mount Whitney twice, and the first time, I turned around. So I have just one Whitney summit under my belt. It resembles some sort of castle in the sky. Why would I not want to go back is the question. I was open to hiking to this beautiful, inspiring, jagged mountain peak again God willing. Well, he had other plans for me.
For some, this mountain is a one and done. For others it is a yearly tradition, the marks are continually tallied, for summits done. People talk about “doing Whitney,” as if it’s a thing that gets done. For some it is one and done. Would I make it up to Mount Whitney a second time? I also wanted to hike to Mount Langley and was planning to. Tall peaks like these resemble a highway at times. Mount Whitney more than Langley. There are so many peaks and place to explore, I can never get to them all. I am ok just exploring new places, and if I never get to hike to the tallest 14rs, what then? Would I like hiking any less?
After winning a permit for Mount Whitney the second time in the yearly lottery, I spent the last two months wondering if I would be ready and in the process suffered much undue anxiety and anticipation about it. It was on my mind constantly, and I half wished I had maybe not applied this year. It felt all-consuming in a way. I was not sure I would be ready. Having experienced all sorts of ailments in the last year, it was 50/50 I would be ready or even summit. I had hiked San Gorgonio recently, barely making it back from that one.
I woke up around 5:30 am this particular morning, to the sunrise at Horseshoe Meadows. I slept horribly. I was uncomfortable on the twin foam mattress in my car, for the first time. I tossed and turned all night. I never would have guessed altitude was to blame, but why would it not be? I was already sleeping at over 10,000 feet at the trailhead. It took me less than an hour to ascend, which is rather fast.
I had tossed around a few options for a Whitney acclimatization and warm up hike. I settled on Trail Peak, which was only 7 miles, and possibly adding in Cottonwood Pass Loop along the PCT.
Golden Trout Wilderness
The Golden Trout Wilderness is located in the southern sierra, and is a pristine wilderness, filled with rocky granite peaks, such as Mount Langley, Cirque Peak, and my destination for the day, Trail Peak.
Today I would end up hiking 15 miles to Trail Peak and along the Cottonwood Pass Loop from the Cottonwood Pack Station (Horseshoe Meadows).
I had been wanting to explore more of this wilderness for sometime, since first visiting here a year ago in August. All year long I think about summer in the sierra, and visiting places like this.
The way to Trail Peak, includes a climb up Trail Pass, and hiking along the PCT. The marked trail to this peak on Alltrails maps I would soon find, is not a trail at all. This hike would end up being very steep and include class 2 scrambling, along with lots of boulder hopping, where you get to choose your own adventure.
A Shakedown Hike
This was meant to be a shakedown hike for a 14r (Mount Whitney) since I had won a permit in the lottery earlier this year, so this day was much anticipated. Sometimes you think you’re doing everything right, but your plan somehow goes south.
I would end up developing AMS on this hike, despite the fact I had stayed at altitude the night before to acclimate by the Cottonwood Lakes Trailhead, as many will attest to, is the way to not get altitude sickness. How could I have known?
Cottonwood Pack Station
My hike began around 7:30 am from where I camped at Cottonwood Lakes Trailhead. I walked cross-country passing by the Cottonwood Pack Station, getting to check out the beautiful horses there. I suppose they are pack mules. You tell me what makes a horse a mule?
It was a beautiful clear morning with blue skies. Despite feeling tired, from not sleeping well, I was highly motivated to enjoy exploring the Golden Trout Wilderness, in the southern sierra. If a place qualifies as being called wilderness, it is worth visiting in my opinion. It is a popular area, so being a Sunday morning, I expected more of a crowd.
As I trod down into the valley out of the cover of pines, I could see Trail Peak in the distance. After a little less than a mile I reached the Cottonwood Pass Trail turnoff, and stayed to the left on Trail Pass Trail.
Next up was a beautiful serene meadow, the early morning light, painting the nearby peaks in a golden glow. I could see Trail Peak, Cirque Peak, Trailmaster Peak, and Mount Langley in the distance from here.
I came to my first stream crossing, which was a n easy rock hop.
Soon I was in a marmot wonderland, seeing far more of these comical creatures in one place, than I had ever seen before.
The trail became shady again, as I began climbing steadily through a forest of pines and granite boulders, nearing Trail Pass.
I came to a second stream cross and water source, dotted in colorful wildflowers, including indian paintbrush, bright fuchsia fireweed, and various golden yellow blooms. What a serene place to soak in. But I did not stay long, since flies like wet areas too, and morning is prime time for them. They like a hiker in a fixed position.
I continued through the forest climbing high above the now distant meadow below, and ran into the first hikers of the day, two backpackers returning from a trip to the Kern River to fish.
By 9 am, I reached Trail Pass which sits at 10,492 feet.
At this point I continued on to my right along the PCT, versus straight on to Mulkey Meadow or to the left, which would have led to Kennedy Meadows.
After another switchback or so, I was at the point marked on Alltrails, leading to Trail Peak. I could not find a trail of any kind, and it sunk in that this was an off-trail adventure.
I was very tired, and so I sat in the shade on a somewhat uncomfortable log, to have a snack break. My watch read 90% oxygen. I had not slept well and all I knew at this point was I had fatigue and was moving slow. I attributed it to thinking I was “still acclimating.”
After about 20 minutes, I felt rested enough to tackle what seemed like a daunting task. It was clear that Trail Peak was no ordinary peak or trail. I would have to work for this one, since it was far steeper than I could have known.
I did not plan to quit though. Slow and steady wins the race has become my motto, and I would have to really own that motto today.
After about an hour of climbing, I was still less than a 1/3 the way to the peak, and had gone less than a mile. I was briefly discouraged, until I remembered that this is all on me, my success or failure. There is no one else to compare myself to, no impressive record pace of climbing to keep up with, which can be the case with a hiking group. It was just me and the wilderness here.
I had a feeling it would just be me up there, as I stopped again to rest, taking in the view towards Horseshoe Meadows, a place I was not sure where it began or ended.
The higher I climbed, the better the view. I had accepted the slow pace and tried my hardest not to check my watch. I would just keep climbing along the spine of this trail-less peak, oddly dubbed Trail Peak.
Now past the halfway mark, the scenery changed somewhat, and there was an increase in both the size of the boulders, and in the presence of bristlecone pines, the most ancient of all the trees in this alpine wonderland of the eastern sierra. If there is anything I wanted to see today, it was the ancient trees.
It was challenging terrain for sure. But I was enjoying the views and the forest here, which took my mind off how I was feeling.
Years ago, when I never really got to go anywhere I chose very often, I got one opportunity. It was my 40th birthday, and I was granted a trip to the eastern sierra for my birthday. On that trip I was able to visit Bodie Ghost Town, the hot springs and fumaroles near Mammoth Lakes, and the Ancient Bristlecone Pine Forest, where the famous Methalusah is found. I was right back there now. Whatever happened past this point was irrelevant to me, peak or no peak, it was God’s will if I made it. But I had already gotten what I came for. My dream of sitting there with the ancient bristlecones again, had come true.Years ago, when I never really got to go anywhere I chose very often, I got one opportunity. It was my 40th birthday, and I was granted a trip to the eastern sierra for my birthday. On that trip I was able to visit Bodie Ghost Town, the hot springs and fumaroles near Mammoth Lakes, and the Ancient Bristlecone Pine Forest, where the famous Methalusah is found. I was right back there now. Whatever happened past this point was irrelevant to me, peak or no peak, it was God’s will if I made it. But I had already gotten what I came for. My dream of sitting there with the ancient bristlecones again, had come true.
I did not give up, as tired as I was, and slowly, I made it to the 3/4 mark.
The steepest part of the climb was over. I was on the saddle, and ventured over to the edge, to glimpse the other side of the mountain from a rocky outcropping.
Here was a beautiful view of the southern sierra over Mulkey Meadow.
I then diverted my attention back to the task at hand, which was choosing a line to reach this peak.
After rounding the corner, and climbing higher to the next plateau, the peak was not visible. I was certain there would be no more false summits, and trail peak was straight on ahead.
There is something about nearing a peak, you worked so hard for. It’s the feeling you get on the last stretch. For me the thought was this: All things are possible with God, and his strength. I am weak and he is strong. It is not my efforts that carried me here.
The last part, the 1/2 mile or so was a cake walk compared to the first 3/4 mile, which took about 1.5 hours. That is one of my slowest climbs to date. I am not a fast hiker, and if it is steep, I am one of the slowest. Nothing much had changed today in that respect.
I was now high in the sierra, with clear views toward Mount Langley and Mount Whitney. I began to reflect on how the story went a year ago, when I turned around at New Army Pass, making it a 19.7 mile day, not able to muster the strength to summit Langley, and barely even making it back to the trailhead in one piece. That was a wakeup call. It was the result of trying a big hike after being out of commission a long time, and not in shape. I blew out both knees, and laid around a month before I could hike again. You live and you learn.
Despite being ill with a stomach bug a week ago, which quickly resolved, and as a result experiencing a week of fatigue and inactivity, leading up to the trip, prior to that, I was feeling pretty good. I had been hiking everyday and getting in a good amount of miles. I thought I was ready this time, for tackling this type of climb. Still, I was moving so slow, so much that I was wondering if my dreams of climbing 14rs on this trip might be dashed once more.
As I neared the peak, mostly devoid of trees, and vegetation, there were many alpine flowers somehow hanging one. A lone solitary pine stood, as I climbed the final few hundred feet toward the summit block.
Once I reached the summit block, it involved a bit of class 3 scrambling to reach. I was rewarded me with 360 degree views, making up for the exhaustion on the way up.
I had reached Trail Peak which sits at 11,622 ft. Trail Peak was something special and apparently not as popular according to the register.
It was just 1.25 miles from the PCT, but it had taken me about 2 hours to reach the peak. I sat here a good 30 minutes, eating lunch, soaking it all in. I could not ask for anything more at this point, than to make it back in one piece.
Now the challenge was to choose my own adventure and pick a line to head back down. Being that this was off trail, I knew I had options. I had noticed that to my right, there seemed to be less boulders and more flat areas. So I chose a different line on the way back, staying just to the right of the route on the way up, preventing as much boulder hopping, making switchbacks all the way down. It took less than an hour heading back using this method, and I ended hiking in an arroyo, where water had flowed for part of it.
By 12:30 pm I had made it back to the PCT. I had a decision to make, Clouds had moved in. It looked like it may rain, storm, or even hail, even though it was not in the forecast. The sierra is notorious for this, for sporadic storms and deluges, in the afternoons. I experienced this while descending Mount Whitney later in the afternoon, around 2pm, back in 2022. Rain, hail, lightning, followed by borderline hyperthermia since I was too tired to stop to change into warmer clothes. I was wearing a raincoat, shorts, and two baselayers. I was chilled to the bone and sleepy, still with 30 lbs on my back, returning from the HST. I still made it to Outpost Camp, thoroughly soaked and went to sleep. That was a day like no other for me, a true test, and the big finale for my trip across the sierra.
So the question was, do I continue? I was not sure my emergency poncho was in the pack. Did I take it out when I was redoing my day pack? I decided that I would continue, and worst case scenario, I get soaked and have to hike in the rain. I was tired and still had no idea that I had altitude sickness, aka AMS. I thought I was good with altitude, that it did not affect me. Well, it can affect anyone, and I was wrong to think this was. Somehow, I had gotten lucky to this point. With all the times I had been over 9000 feet, and sometimes up to 11,000 feet, I had not gotten it. I had always felt good at altitude. Who does not get tired at altitude? The differentiating factor would come later though, the telltale signs, that are beyond just being tired and moving slow.
It was a gradual climb onward to Cottonwood Pass, which would be another 2.5 miles. While I was hiking along, I was able to glimpse the far side of Trail Peak, which was technical, and more a class 4/5 climb than the treed and boulder laden spine I climbed. Off in the distance were rocky mountain tops resembling piles of rocks, yet to be named.
There would be forests, meadows, and large boulders along this stretch, along with wildflowers.
As I was nearing the pass, and the turnoff for Chicken Spring Lake, I could spot Cirque Peak and Trailmaster Peaks in the distance, which I have heard are both scrambles. There is even a way to traverse to both, up the spine above Chicken Spring Lake. I debated adding an extra .75 miles to the lake initially. But at this point, that was out of the question. On one hand the sky was becoming ever thick with clouds, which glancing back at Trail Peak, were not shrouded in them. I had surely climbed the peak at the best time of day, in the early morning, and enjoyed clear views across the sierra. But now, storms may be brewing.
As I climbed the last 1/2 mile to Cottonwood Pass, I was feeling truly awful. I had started to feel dizzy and had a headache. I knew the only option was to descend. I was clearly not acclimating in a good way and felt worse by the minute. I needed to get back to my car. It would be about 5 miles to the car from the pass.
I passed the turnoff for Chicken Spring Lake, where the PCT continues north.
I was 2:20 pm, when I had reached Cottonwood Pass, which sits at 11,200 feet.
I was as motivated as I was at the start, just feeling very unwell. I was grateful to be on the home stretch. I began quickly descending down the switchbacks towards green meadows bidding farewell to the alpine zone.
I began to pass waves of hikers, all headed up to Chicken Spring Lake, some backpacking and others day hiking.
After descending the switchbacks I was not feeling much better. I was surrounded by green lush meadows and wildflowers. As I entered the pine forest, enjoying a bit of shade, I paused a moment by a stream. I was truly not feeling well. A family of hikers passed by me, and asked how I was doing. They could tell I was not ok. I said I was ok, but only because I was ok enough to continue back to the car, at that point. I was too dizzy and tired to go into detail. That is mountain sickness for you.
It was now entirely overcast on the last stretch back to my car. As I walked through the open field, memories of the Kern River Gorge drifted past my mind, of when I hiked the High Sierra Trail, getting soaked, having lightning flash all around, on the way to the campsite. I did something you should never do then, and huddled under a tree. When you’re in situations like this, you don’t think, and I was not thinking clearly at all right now.
As I passed Trail Peak for the last time, bidding farewell to the sierra, it felt as if afternoon storms were looming on the horizon, but they never materialized. I made it back to the pack station, and went cross-country through the equestrian camp to my car at Cottonwood Lakes Trailhead, making it there by 4:30 pm. I had hiked for 8 hours with about an hour’s worth of stopping for a break, for a 9 hour day.
Closure
I was grateful to not experience another Sierra hailstorm and get back to my car. My head was now swelling, my heart was beating fast, and I had a headache, along with being tired, unable to focus. I knew I would not feel better if I stayed here, and had not planned to, since I had a campsite booked further north at Whitney Portal. Maybe I will feel better in Lone Pine, after grabbing some dinner?
I did not know it right then, but there would be no 14r’s happening for me, this trip.
What Was Next
I drove back to Lone Pine, where I planned to possibly grab food, before heading to Whitney Portal. But I at this point felt really exhausted and terrible. I was in no shape to even go sit down in a restaurant. I grabbed some french fries from the only fast food place in town. Then I realized I needed gas. Then I found a restroom. I still felt awful. My head was swelling and I was dizzy, and my heart was beating fast. I made a few phone calls and did a few searches of my symptoms. It was clear, they matched AMS. There is a first time for everything. I had been in the mountains, and even crossed the entire sierra without experiencing this before. What a miracle that was.
Getting Altitude Sickness
I had descended, but it was confirmed I was experiencing altitude sickness. Contrary to popular belief, it does not just fade away immediately when you descend. Going back up to altitude to stay at the portal was not seeming like a great plan. I was advised to rest at a hotel. I knew I might even need to go to the ER, to get help. All the places in town were booked up and around $200 a night, so I decided to drive to Ridgecrest to stay, in a place that is cheaper, a little less than an hour away. There is also a hospital there. Driving south, I was not even sure I made the right call. I was barely able to drive, and was going slow, far slower than I usually drive. But the good part is I made it. The Eastern Sierra is a funny place, with its tall peaks, a desolate valley, no phone service, and I was drawn here, again. It’s an inhospitable place to be drawn to, where so much could go wrong. People fly here from around the globe, just to hike Mount Whitney. But it was not in the cards.
Recovering
I ended up at a Days Inn, where the air conditioning was ice cold. I grabbed a sleeping bag from the car, since even with that ac going, the room was freezing. But that cold air did a number on my headache and dizziness. It definitely was healing and helped me sleep well that night.
Good Morning
My permit for Whitney was the next day, and was an overnight one. When I woke up in the morning, I felt rested, but worn out, drained, and dizzy, still. I had done a number on myself somehow. I continued resting until checkout at 11 am, buying time in hopes I saw a sign I was able to proceed on to Mount Whitney. But I still was not feeling well.
The question was do I test the waters, and head to Whitney Portal? I was so tired and knew I could not climb a mountain, let alone do a hike on flat ground the way I was feeling. The blessing was that I was just barely feeling ok enough to drive to Starbucks for some coffee and make it home.
That is AMS for you. I was lucky this time, that it was not worse, and I did not hike further into the wilderness, because there is a good chance I may have needed a rescue at that point, or worse. The mountains don’t play around, and they are not some playground. It is a place to be respected, and you need to respect yourself enough, along with first responders, to know when to call it. There have been many fatalities due to mountain sickness. But the truth is most cases of people who get AMS, just recover on their own, so it goes undocumented.
Despite getting AMS for the first time, I still enjoyed hiking in the beautiful Golden Trout Wilderness , exploring Trail Peak and Cottonwood Pass.
Everyday getting outside is a gift for which I am grateful. You just have to keep doing what you love, until God has other plans and trusting you will be led down the right path.
5 Trust in the Lord with all your heart;
Proverbs 3:5-6
do not depend on your own understanding.
6 Seek his will in all you do,
and he will show you which path to take.
I hope you enjoyed reading this, and it is helpful in knowing what to expect, should you decide to visit here.
The Essentials
Just be sure to come prepared, bring the 10 essentials, and Pack Out Your Trash to keep the wilderness pristine for future hikers.
About me
I’m Serafina! I’m a writer and California girl who loves to go exploring. Hope you will get outside today, breathe some fresh air, and be happy!
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Disclaimer:
The work on this blog is my opinion and my opinion alone and I am not responsible for the outcome if someone were to apply these thoughts to their own life. All text and photography copyright 2026 by Serafina, all rights reserved. Information and opinions provided are kept current to the best of the author’s ability. All readers’ usage of the ideas and opinions presented in the blog, are at their own risk. Be aware of the possible dangers of hiking, surfing, walking, cooking, and other activities, which may take place indoors or outdoors. By reading this, you agree not to hold the author or publisher of the content on this web site responsible for any injuries or inconveniences that may result from reading the blog, or partaking in any activity mentioned in the blog. Read the blog, and use its ideas, if you so desire, at your own risk.
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