There was a nearly full moon still well established in my view when dawn surrounded it. No pictures could compare to that sunrise, tall peaks in the background. I took my time exiting the bivy in the cold, but still managed to get on the trail by seven. Several uphill miles got me up to 10,600, where I found Pit Stop and Navigator finishing their first break. We were all happy to be reunited, and I spent the rest of the day hiking with them. We got water from a couple of clear spring-fed creeks, dropped down to 9700, then climbed back up to 11,200, where Navigator had planned to camp. Fine choice; the area appeared bear-free, flat and fairly wind-protected. We rushed down our suppers, stowed our bear cans in a secure location, and ducked into our respective warm localities.
All day, when a saddle was reached, the bare ass of Mt. Whitney, tallest peak in the lower 48, mooned us. I have no desire to climb that damned thing again, but many PCT hikers take the side trip up, since it only constitutes one extra day. I'm content to worry about Forester Pass, the 13,200' highest point on the trail with its downslope on the north side. Though I see little snow on Whitney, I am not looking at its cold dark side. And I decided to play this game without microspikes or ice axe. We shall see.