First Snow of the Season on Mt. Mousilauke, NH

That is a lot of snow for the middle of October. The Gorge Brook Trail on Mt. Moosilauke, about 500 yards from the summit.

I don’t normally write about the mundane aspects of life, and a trip up Mt. Moosilauke, is a fairly routine event for the Girls and me. Today was something special, however, and is worth at least a brief mention and a couple of photos.

I awoke early this morning, with one of those dreams that gets you going at 4:00 AM, and won’t let you go back to sleep. Checking out the Weather Channel, it was clear that the mountains were cold, windy, and may have received a bunch of snow. If you can’t sleep, you might as well hike.

The Girls and I set out for Moosilauke bright and early, and were on the hill shortly after sunup. We hit a clear snow line at 3,700 feet, and had 12 to 18 inches of wind packed snow at the summit, with drifts over 4 feet. The wind was blowing 30-40 mph, and the temperature was around 15 degrees. It was totally unexpected, and absolutely delightful – the joys of the first snowfall of the season.

Swiss Desires

Famous Last Words

This is one in an occasional series of humorous or illustrative real world examples from my career.

“Vee Vant our Money!”

Swiss Bondholder Spokesman, Zurich Switzerland, 1989

I’d been at this for months, and I couldn’t guess how these Swiss wanted to play it. I was the number two team member on the financial restructuring and acquisition (out of bankruptcy) of Allegheny International, a major consumer products company based in the US. Allegheny had a 100 million Swiss Franc issue, and winning the support of the bondholders for our proposed transaction was key to winning the deal. I had just flown into Zurich that morning on the overnight flight, and was seriously jet lagged, and a little hung over. In the presentation I offered them a variety of new securities (in three different packages) in our new company in exchange for their existing Allegheny bonds. I working for and represented DLJ, a hot shot investment bank, with a lot of nerve, but very little capital, and we were running on fumes on this deal.

Allegheny was a former steel company, which had sold off its steel assets, and used the proceeds to assemble a hodge-podge of consumer product and light industrial companies. The management team was a poster child for the worst of American management practices – but on steroids. They had sold off assets to friends at cheap prices, engaged in questionable accounting practices, stuffed the Board with half-engaged cronies, and maintained a fleet of private aircraft to visit their far-flung assets. There was no discernable corporate strategy, and the Company had slowly bled its way into bankruptcy.

I was fearful of this company, but wildly enthusiastic about our management team. The company (Allegheny) was where careers of investment bankers went to die – it was really that bad. First Boston had put together a bid for the Company at $17 per share, which was rejected by the Board as inadequate. Within 6 months the Company was bankrupt, and the shareholders were wiped out. There was no break-up fee. We had entered the picture about 6 months post-bankruptcy with a management team led by Jim Milligan, who was as good as the previous group was bad.

Jim may be the best turnaround guy that I ever met. He had made a lot of money for one of the original DLJ principals in a prior consumer products deal, and was a natural for this one. Jim took the bull by the horns from the start – beginning with a whirlwind tour of facilities and interviews with management and lawyers. Within a week, Jim produced his own plan with detail of plant consolidation, product line rationalization, divestitures and growth plans. He had detailed instructions regarding inventory management, go-to-market strategy, relationships with customers and new product positioning. It was detailed, brilliant, and he did the whole thing himself, including financial projections. Jim was an awe inspiring leader, and I would have followed him through the Gates of Hell, which is approximately what I was doing in Zurich.

Because we had no money, we were offering existing holders of claims (post bankruptcy) a variety of securities in the new company. We had as good a team of bankers on the deal as I have ever known, but this thing was a bear. The “take” for each asset class of claim holders was variable, and depended on the judgment of the bankruptcy court. By this point, all claim holders were at each other’s throats, knowing that this was a zero sum game, and that anything that they got was coming out of someone else’s pocket. The acrimony was incredible, and the process endless.

I had gone to Switzerland with a group of three financial packages to exchange for existing bonds, which the Swiss could choose as they saw fit. Each package contained a different amount of debt, equity and warrants in the new company. It was mind numbing to comprehend, and very difficult to explain in the 30 minutes allotted to me by the dour Swiss.

The presentation included flip charts, slides and a variety of charts and graphs showing projected future performance. The presentation room was cold, and filled with white, middle-aged, humorless men, all a little too thread bare to be gentile. I made the presentation with great vigor and spirit, which fell flat on the Swiss, who looked on totally unresponsive. I could not read this group at all.

After 30 minutes, I asked if there were any questions, and there were none. I was ushered into a paneled waiting room, so that they could discuss the presentation and respond. As I waited I wondered which option would they choose, or would they propose their own basket of securities – oh these clever Swiss!

After 20 minutes or so, their spokesman showed me back into the presentation room, and led me up to the podium. As I moved behind the podium, he waited a minute, cleared his throat, and said,”Mr. Chapman, vee have considered and discussed your proposal, and vee have decided zat, vee vant our money.”

It doesn’t happen often, but I was dumbstruck. I had not shown up even considering the “vee vant our money” option as a conceivable outcome. Clearly, these guys not only considered it as possible, they would demand it right up through the bitter end. There was nothing else to do – I thanked them for their time and beat a hasty retreat to the Zurich train station, to sooth my wounds with some fine Swiss beer and wait to go home.

In the end, a group showed up with real money, and bought the outstanding claims for cents on the dollar, all claims except the Swiss Franc issue I had gone to talk about. That they paid par for, and in the end, the Swiss got “zeir money”.

Climbing Mt. Whitney

Introduction

Mt. Whitney is part of a giant batholith of granite which forms the eastern edge of the Sierra Nevada Range in California, and I have wanted to climb it for a very long time. Mt. Whitney is also the tallest peak in the 48 contiguous states. The Sierra Range, of which Mt. Whitney is a part, is formed by giant block faults generated by the tension associated with very active subduction of the continent beginning several hundred miles to the west, and it forms some of the most incredible scenery on earth. Mt Whitney was first climbed by a group of fishermen from the now vanished Owens Lake in 1873, and is named for the former head of the California Geologic Survey, Josiah Whitney (also a Harvard professor). The faulting in the area produces some wild displacements, such that the lowest point in the US, Badwater Basin in Death Valley, is only 80 miles away, and part of the same “horst and graben” phenomenon.

The access to Mt. Whitney is limited to 150 lucky souls per day, chosen by a lottery administered by the State of California. Access to the mountain is through the town of Lone Pine, about 250 miles from either LA or Las Vegas. The most popular trail is a relic of depression era construction projects, The Mt. Whitney Trail, which was completed in 1930, and was originally designed for use by horses and mules. The trailhead is at around 8,400 feet at the Whitney Portal, and is built through ingenious route planning and ample use of dynamite, to have a very gentle grade with over 200 switchbacks over its 11-mile route.

The official literature describes this as a three day hike, with a base camp established at Trail Camp (6.0 miles from the start and 12,000 feet elevation), followed by a one day assault on the peak, and finally by a descent on day three. Most people now do it in two days, with about 40% doing it as a very long day hike. We elected the two day option. About 65% of climbers fail to summit, most due to fatigue and altitude sickness.

My friends Gary and Jill Rogers had been applying to the lottery for the climb for several years, before we were finally chosen this year for an overnight hike September 29th and 30th. We were joined on this adventure by fellow Mainers, Jim and Tom Getchell, two brothers and Bowdoin graduates who have been tormented by the Rogers in one outdoors undertaking or another for many years. Last but not least we were joined by our soon to be retired friend Pete Volanakis. After many years of torturing Pete on lesser mountains in the East, this was my first chance to really torment him with high altitude.

Welcome to California

We planned to fly to LA from Boston, and drive to Lone Pine in a Suburban (suitably Californian we hoped) in time to register to climb the next day. I have read for the last several years about the fiscal train wreck that is California, and the turgidly fat bureaucrats that have run one of the greatest places on earth into the ground. I live in the state of New Hampshire, a place delightfully inexpert in taxing its citizens, and I was headed to California to see how the other half lives.

I was struck upon landing that the air conditioning in LAX was not working, and there were large standing fans everywhere. The problem had been going on for several days/weeks/months, and, overall, the scene reminded me of landing in Managua, Nicaragua in 1977. I found one employee of the County (pictured below and wearing his LA County ID) who decided to adopt the ancient and venerable Latin custom of taking a siesta to beat the heat of the day. The wonder is that he’s earning his pension all the while.

The drive to Lone Pine was uneventful, but noteworthy by the large number of half completed and abandoned condo projects beside the highway, and the relatively large number of potholes in the road. Potholes are the bane of road engineers around the world, but really only a recurring problem in areas with severe frost. Potholes can form from very heavy usage in other climates, but are always a clear sign of “deferred maintenance”. Clearly, the housing stock, roadways, and airport were all suffering from fiscal inanition.

Lone Pine – Movie Set to the World

Lone Pine, the departure point for Mt. Whitney, is a town of around 1,000 souls that is built on the former shores of Lake Owens, which was drained to provide water for the urban behemoth to the south. The town was famous as a movie set for films as diverse as High Sierra, Gunga Din, Charge of the Light Brigade, Kim; and the TV series the Lone Ranger and Roy Rogers. It is a one stoplight town, with a bunch of local businesses now focused on the climbing/hiking trade. The local Saloon is wonderful, filled with 60 years of mementos from the movie business, with an authentic dash of local ranching thrown in for good measure. It was authentic and charming, but the movie business went away a long time ago as people’s tastes changed to more urban themes and settings.

We arrived at Lone Pine and went directly to the new Visitor center for Mt. Whitney. The parking lot was being paved (it’s that new) and there were three employees directing the 8-9 cars to park beside the road. The building was large spacious and wonderful. Inside were a large number of dioramas of the local mountains, and 6-7 employees. One of these was working, (checking people in) providing an explanation of the seemingly endless rules and regulations, and passing out the WAG bags (Waste Alleviation and Gelling).

I must digress from Lone Pine for a moment to address one of these rules. The most vexatious and endlessly humorous rule in the Mt. Whitney Zone relates to human solid waste, which must be carried out in the WAG bags, presumably by the producer of the waste. These bags are actually a kit, including a large, open mouth, green plastic bag to contain the waste, containing a small amount of “magic” white powder which reduces decay and related expansion through gas production. Also included are a very small amount of toilet paper and a “Handi-wipe”. Finally, the receptacle bags and all of its contents are put into a green translucent zip-lock bag for handy transportation.

In the past the Park Service maintained long drop toilets along the trail and removed the contents once a year by helicopter. It was decided that: 1) helicopter flights disturbed the natural and quiet wonder of the mountain, 2) helicopter flights were too expensive, 3) long drop toilets made extra work for the Rangers, and, 4) people would suffer any amount of insult to climb the Hill, and the toilets were removed.

Here I must note four things: 1) the F15’s and related aircraft that call Edwards AFB home fill the skies with an endless cacophony on the mountain every day – banishing any quiet contemplation, 2) I, and many others would be willing to pay a little more for the luxury of a toilet in any form, 3) people on the mountain eat dehydrated food, and therefore packs on the way down (including poop) actually weigh more than on the way up, and 4) the conversations about this were both childish and hilarious, and it brought new meaning to the “walk of shame” noted in the Salmon River blog.

The visitors Center in Lone Pine had a wonderful and graphic video detailing the proper use of the WAG bags. The Lone Pine film business has come a long way down, all the way from Errol Flynn and John Wayne, to short subject instructional films about bagging poop. John Ford must be rolling in his grave.

Trail Camp

Trail Camp is a long hike (6 miles) with a 50-60 pound pack, and we were all glad to spend the night at 12,000 feet and get a chance to acclimatize. Trail Camp is really a wide spot in the trail, beside a small un-named pond. The setting is a large glacial cirque, with a couple of small snowfields that are locally called glaciers. There are a couple of large glacial moraines from earlier, cooler periods. The mountains loom over the camp in large vertical cliffs. The setting is spectacular, and calls for a little rock climbing.

We had arrived early and gotten a premium tent site, about 50 feet back from the trail with some very comfortable rocks to sit on and watch the people go by. The feeling that I got was like sitting by the route of pilgrims going on the Camino de Santiago de Compostela. All ages, sizes, shapes and conditions, and each on a personal mission. A couple of their stories are worth retelling. Late in the evening, Gary was at the pond, filtering some water, when he noticed a shadow over him. He turned around to see an Indian (from India) guy standing over him holding a cup. Gary said, “Can I help you?” All the guy could do was hold out his cup and say, “Please”. Gary gave him some water, and heard out his story. His name was Philip, and he was part of a larger group that had started at 12:00 am that morning. He had no more food or water, and virtually no survival gear. He waited for his group until about dark, but they never showed up, so he headed down, telling us to tell the rest of his group that he had gone ahead. I asked how we would know them and he said, “They are Indians like me, not many of us up here you know.” I had my instructions and they were clear. We later did as we were told when they showed up after dark. We later learned that they didn’t get out until 12:00 am the next morning – that’s a very long time on that hill.

While Mt. Whitney has many rules and regulations, there is no one checking hikers as they start to hike, and no ranger station on the trail. The trail is not marked with paint, which would make it very dangerous in a storm. Undertaking these functions would require leaving the vital functions of hiker registration and parking seriously understaffed

The second story was about a bunch of old buddies in their 70’s, doing this hike as they had many times before. They were doing the three day version, showing good sense. It was a bunch of old friends hanging around, laughing and drinking champagne to celebrate. A great bunch of guys enjoying old friends and long life, after a full day on a beautiful mountain. We should all be so lucky.

Passage into Thin Air

We set out on the 5 mile climb for the summit around 5:45 AM in the dark. People had been climbing all morning, and over breakfast we watched their headlamps as they worked their way up the 97 switchbacks. The air was cool, the pace easy and we were about half way up to the Trail Crest at 13,777 feet when the sun rose bright and red in the East. “Red sky in morning, sailors take warning”, applies in the mountains as well, and I wanted to make sure that we got to the top before it got socked in, and we lost the view. I also did not want to have to climb down in freezing rain, as we had left our crampons in the car.

At the Trail Crest we saw the best sign of the trip, “No Pets or Firearms Beyond this Point”. Damn, and I brought my shotgun and bird dog all that way to do some hunting on the summit.

The view from the top was simply spectacular, and the hike down uneventful. The weather continued to deteriorate, and we hustled off the mountain to a major meal at a local cantina in Lone Pine.

In two days we saw only one ranger on the mountain, he must have drawn the short straw and did not get parking lot duty. Despite all of the regulations, the trail was strewn with toilet paper and many climbers were clearly unprepared for the hike. I can’t imagine the mess if we had actually had bad weather blow in on Philip and his hiking team.

Rating

I rate the hike 3.5 stars out of five. A large positive part of the rating comes from the camaraderie of our team, and the physical beauty of the place. The trail was well maintained, but poorly supervised and marked. I was worried about some of our fellow travelers, and the rangers were nowhere in sight. The camping areas were clean and well maintained, but the WAG bag requirement was off the charts complicated, gross and unnecessary. The mountain was spectacular, but remains a Californian playground (we were the only out-of-staters in the last two pages on the register on the summit). It would have been great if there had been a more challenging trail out of Trail Camp to the Crest, and running down the talus slope instead of the switchbacks would have been a lot of fun.

I’m really glad that I climbed Mt. Whitney, but given the choice, I’d climb Rainier as an alternative.