Toby Evans - Climbing Californias Fourteeners: Hiking the State’s 15 Peaks Over 14,000 Feet

A safe and successful summit trip into the Eastern Sierra back country should always end with a smile!

I am just a regular dude. Im not a superior athlete with mad climbing or mountaineering skills. I like to challenge and push my limits and skills. I take calculated risks, and I have been doing that since I was a kid. Which is why I found myself on a plane in 2001 going to a strange country to participate in a sport I had only watched in awe on television.

I first met Jack McBroom on a flight to New Zealand. Actually, I saw him on the plane and spent 8 hours creating the character I wanted him to be. So out of place and unsure of the unique situation I had wandered into as a competitor in the Eco-Challenge New Zealand adventure race (my first adventure race ever), playing it cool was the route I chose. After my gear became a yard sale with boxes and bags falling on the tarmac several embarrassing times, I heard Jack chuckling in my general direction. He offered a hand and pretty much made sure I made it to the next flight.

We were on separate teams that race. His was experienced and had been racing together for some time. Mine well, I met my teammates for the first time as we boarded the plane in Los Angeles, so you can imagine the bond we shared. Before, during, and after the race, Jack was positive and supportive, and the more I learned about him, the more intrigued I became and a chance encounter became a friendship.

In late 2001 I moved to California for work and became a regular at the McBroom house during the holidays, and teamed with Jack and one of my New Zealand teammates, JD Ahern, when adventure racing season rolled around. During the Cal-Eco finals, Jack mentioned that he was going to try to set a new speed record for summiting all of the fourteeners in the state.

Being from a part of Iowa that tickles 600 feet above sea level, I did not understand the magnitude of what his goal would mean (it took me several years to really understand). A matter of days postrace (we finished sixth among some of the best teams in the world), Jack set a new fastest known time at 4 days, 11 hours, and 19 minutes. (Sean ORourke, whose book served as a guide during this project, set a new standard at 2 days, 14 hours, 3 minutes in 2012.) At the time I raised a shot of tequila to my friend, but had no idea how this feat would affect me over the next decade and a half.

My days of competing for race wins and prize money ended years ago. Competing against the clock over the same distances I ran in my youth did not hold the appeal it once did. Mostly because even though my body knew I would never come close to the times I ran postcollege, my mind was still convinced it was possible.

My focus shifted to getting back to the activities I loved as a kid. Riding my bike, running through the woods, pushing my physical and mental limits without the need of a medal at the end of the day. Reconnecting with my longtime friend Rob (as kids we used a garden hose to rappel into a local park) and meeting my training partner JT provided me outlets for pushing to my limits.

Always in the back of my mind were those damn mountains in eastern California. Could I reach each summit? And, if so, how quickly could I do it? Would it be possible to break Seans standard and reclaim the record in the name of my friend Jack? I had not a clue as to what it would take to climb one, let alone 15, mountain over 14,000 feet.

During my adventure racing career, some peaks in that range were crossed during races, and I had taken the tram up Pikes Peak while in high school. I had spent a little time climbing indoors as well. That was the base of my experience prior to starting this project.

I knew from reading trail reports and the couple of guidebooks that were around that if I was in decent shape and took my time, several of the fourteeners could be summited without the need of technical climbing skills. But then there was the group of mountains in the Palisades that I knew would require me to work on my technique to even attempt reaching their peaks, and I would need to brush up.

This book came to fruition as a result of my desire to learn about the California fourteeners. At a trade show, I managed to corner one of the FalconGuides staff and after a lengthy and detailed conversation left with a contract to write a guidebook for them. What had I just gotten myself into?

I spent the spring and early summer preparing my body and mind for the unknown: Would I get altitude sickness? How would my body react to the challenges? Was I, at my age, pushing the limits of what I could do?

In August, I convinced my friend Nick Niforos to meet me in Las Vegas and then drive to the Sierras and attempt to get over the 14,000-foot mark. With sustained winds over 30 mph from Mount Langley to the Palisades the first couple days we planned to climb, we made the smart decision to drive up to the Reno/Tahoe area and acclimate until the wind died down.

Three days later we found our way to the White Mountain trailhead. I thought the smart plan would be to hit the easier mountains first. Heading up the trail before sunrise, we made good time past Barcroft and the observatory. I made my first rookie mistake (there would be many more to come) by recognizing that even though the air temperature seemed cool, I was more exposed to the suns rays and neglected to put on sunscreen. Heres a tip: Apply sunscreen early and often!

The feeling upon reaching that summit, even though it was just a walk up a gravel road, was incredible. My heart hadnt exploded, and I was breathing crisp mountain air. More importantly, I was one-fifteenth of the way to writing this book. Four more mountains were conquered, including Mount Whitney, on that trip, and I returned to Iowa stoked on my progress.

There are many gear outfitters between Bishop and Lone Pine, and Nick and I walked into almost all of them. Almost to a shop, the employees looked us up and down taking in the sunburned noses and either ignored us or treated us like outsiders.

Mount Whitney and Mount Muir seen from the Alabama Hills

Our questions were answered with minimal words and a touch of sarcasm. I was trying to learn about these mountains and doing research for this book. I also did not reveal that I was writing a guidebook because I wanted to be treated like a regular customer.