Mount Shasta, elv. 14,162'
—
By Ted Meister
The idea began as many expeditions do. I had overheard an adventurous story that reminded me how little adventure I had in my own life. A story of courage and challenge like Jon Krakauer's Into Thin Air, but on a smaller scale. It was the story of climbing a mountain, the struggle, the strength, the endurance. A fitting metaphor for life. I wondered if I possessed the essentials to achieve the goal. My friend's story had ended in failure, but not disaster. They hadn't made it to the summit of Mt. Shasta, but they had a great time trying and I wanted a little of that for my own. But I wanted the summit too!
In the world of Mountaineering, a summit bid for Mt. Shasta in the Trinity mountain range of Northern California is more of a morning workout than a life changing experience. But I had never climbed to such heights through snow and ice without the aid of a chair lift. Did I have what it takes to climb all that way, and could I live with not? Unfortunately for me, I suffer from a mild state of PCD (Personal Challenge Disorder). I never back down from a challenge issued by myself. Somehow, I had issued the warrant, and now I had to pay.
It wasn't hard finding interested companions for the mission: My buddy Mark, a South African fitness enthusiast, had also heard the failed summit story and was way in to it. Matt, a bud from back-in-the-day flew up from Palm Springs after months anticipation. Neil, my late brother's brutha joined us to add an element of safety (he's a firefighter), and Kevin, the true adventurer, supplied the fart-jokes... there's a joker in every crowd. None of us had ever climbed with crampons and ice axes, but we all did our portion of research to find the best time, date, and route so we didn't go up there like a bunch of rookies and have to be airlifted off the mountain. It was understood that climbing was serious business, even if it is someone else's morning workout. We didn't hire a guide, but scoured the internet and friend-base to find info...and actually came up with a good, safe plan.
We started out for Mt. Shasta at 5AM on Thursday and finally hit the parking lot at 12 noon. We had stopped for food at Dennys in Red Bluff (or some truck stop town) to fuel up for the climb. I was so nervous about the trip that I couldn't eat a thing. This made me more nervous because I knew I would be low on energy if I didn't eat something. My nervous tension only got worse from there.
We stopped at the Ranger station in Shasta to fill out the required forms and pay the $15 per person fee. Some overweight Search and Rescue guy made wise-cracks about saving us on the mountain, but I'm sure he breaks a sweat climbing in to his helicopter. The experience pissed me off a bit, but I held my tongue figuring that I might run in to him later...and actually need his services. We picked up our waste-disposal bags and drove to the trail head at Bunny Flats. (you literally pack out what you packed in...EVERYTHING. This inspired many sophomoric jokes like, I have SO much shit in my pack, or, Man my shit is heavy. Really lame shit like that, mostly from Kevin).
The
mountain looked ominous from the trail head but we had no idea what was
in store for us. It's only 6 miles to the top, but about 7500 vertical
feet from where we stood. Half of that would be covered with 50lbs packs
on our backs. The parking lot at Bunny Flats was busy with a bus load
of kids on an adventure trip. They were very excited, singing songs and
being loud. We thought they would be a problem for us but turned out to
be really nice kids. Not the lunatic punks we were at that age. No skateboards,
no gameboys, and no fart jokes. Still, I didn't want to
be in the dusty wake of 60 singing kids so we powered past them along
the trail to Horse Camp, which serves as a base camp at the bottom of
Avalanche Gulch. Horse Camp features an old stone cabin built by the Sierra
Club around 100 years ago. It is now a museum filled with interesting
tidbits of Shasta info. I didn't even go inside until the way down, I
was quite focused on the mission at this point and time seemed to be of
the essence. I filled up my Camelbak with spring water and headed up Avalanche
Gulch to our base camp at Helen Lake. It's not actually a lake but more
of a snow covered bluff at about 10,600 feet. There are all sorts of dug
out spots in the snow and rocks where one can pitch a tent, but not much
room for anything else.
The route started out as a gentle grade over a big rock causeway but quickly turned into a steep winding trial that was snow covered at about 8000'. Eventually the trail became a 45degree nightmare so we strapped on our crampons and dropped it in Granny gear. Still, we had to hurry as the thunder clouds were booming behind us. An afternoon storm was blowing in and we needed to get our tents up quick, I KNEW something was up!
By the time I made it to Helen Lake, it was snowing and I was in a sweat soaked t-shirt and shorts. I helped Kevin put his tent up, but mine was still down the mountain a ways with Matt, whom I was sharing tent space with. I remember watching him hike up that last STEEP incline before Helen Lake... that was a tough section with all that gear on our backs. By the time we got the tent up, the storm was raging and we dove inside to get into our snow gear. It was about 4:30PM by that time....about 1mph getting there. Not too shabby!
if
we could just stay here tonight
maybe get a little sleep
save my strength for tomorrow
that becomes today, and I'm still awake...
The storm finally broke around sunset and we were treated to a lovely view and enough light to make some dinner. I tried to eat but had a touch of altitude sickness and barely choked down a PB&J. We were all burned out by then and hit the sack at dusk. Soon it became obvious that I was too sick and/or nervous to sleep. Matt was also having trouble sleeping and occasionally would say, "are you sleeping dude?". "No". "Fuck, we're hating it!". We never did fall asleep and my anxiety about reaching the top became worse. How would I do this on no food and no sleep? By the time 4am rolled around, I shot out of bed, threw on my boots and we were outta there, full moon at our backs. By then I was running on adrenalin but very alert and feeling strong.
The full moon made for great climbing. The Gulch was lit up and the ice was hard. Crampons are the way to go, ice axe at the ready like a sentry in case you slipped. There weren't any crevasses to fall in to, but a 2000 foot tumble down the face wouldn't have been fun. The ice would rip your clothes and skin off as you descend around 50mph. Just don't slip, that's all there is to it! We slowly and methodically switch-backed up the face of the Gulch, looking up every so often only be discouraged by how far we still had to go. Still, spatial perception became surreal and difficult, but the great distances melted away with the steady mantra of our breathing. Turning around you could see the now setting moon in the Trinity Alps and the specks of tents below....WAY below!
with
the full moon at our backs
it all still seems like a dream
pierce the Heart above the Red Banks
and I'm not dreaming, or so it seems...
Daybreak came as we entered The Heart, the steepest grade just below the Red Banks. By this time, we had passed two other teams that had set out before us, which alerted us to our over-zealous pace, but stoked our inner fire! Still, we decided to slow up the pace because we still had several hours to go and the air was getting thin. Around this time, my crampon came loose and I fell behind trying to put the damn thing back on. As I cranked to catch up with everyone, I began to notice the effects of altitude sickness. My hands started tingling and I felt weak, but concentration on my breathing eventually overcame the problem. I think that's the key, keep the pace slow and KEEP BREATHING (eating would have been nice).
The Heart of Avalanche Gulch feeds in to what's called the Chimney, then tops out briefly at a shoulder in the mountain were you can walk on flat ground for about 50 yards. From there, you start up Misery Hill which easily lives up to it's name. Here we really slowed down the pace but passed a 3rd team part way up. You should have seen this guy who was having some trouble with the altitude. He was standing like a pillar of salt, stone faced and tripping out. One more reminder to take our time. We're all a bunch of testosterone fueled 30 year olds in good shape with plenty of friendly competition to give. You could call it stupidity, but we were all trying our hardest to SLOW IT DOWN! One step at a time with frequent stops to recover our breath. Hours can be measured in yards of travel, but seem to pass like minutes. Misery Hill is very deceptive plays the deceptive temptress for the weary traveler. Again the snow distorts perspective and distances are hard to speculate. What's more, there are several bluffs or false peaks that reveal more mountain as you reach them. The endless bummer!
 A mountain is the perfect metaphor for life. It's a long, hard climb to the top. Seemingly endless, with many false peaks along the way. Turn around every now and then to marvel at the view of your life; where you've been and what you've accomplished. Then turn back around, and keep going... the next goal, the next peak. Summiting is the final celebration. I love to climb if not merely for the view at the top, but for the satisfaction of another goal accomplished. |
| This is the good part though. The true test of warrior strength. Pushing ones limits is the ultimate training for life and it's adversities. It's always hardest just as you get to the top and all too easy to give up. It's easy to give up on a seemingly impossible dream. Life is good, I'm doing fine without climbing this mountain. You don't have to achieve lofty goals just to get by. We could turn around at any time and go home with great tales to tell. We'd seen the view, worked hard, had fun... but summiting makes it all worth while. | FINALLY, the trail breaks out on to a plateau where the wind pulverizes you with corn kernels of ice. Like being sand blasted with BBs! All the more incentive to get to the summit. By now, we could see the peak and there was nothing stopping us....I made sure of that. | |
By now, I was feeling stronger than ever, which was weird. I must have been running on pure adrenalin. But by then, I could have done it even if I was dead. I'd heard a lot of stories of people stopping 200' short of the Summit. No way, not me. I was too close to give up and powered up the sketchy path to the pinnacle. I was cutting fresh tracks up the summit by this time and felt like the first man on the Moon. SO exciting. When I made it over the final rock and saw the box that contains the Summit Journal, I was jumping for joy.
I was at the top!
It was a personal triumph for me because it was the only challenge I've attempted that I wasn't sure I could make. I had never done any mountaineering and was so happy to have overcome all the adversities. We all were. More importantly, teamwork was a credit to our success. There were tough times for each of us, but support from the team pushed us through. Ted, Neil, Matt, Mark, and Kevin. We all made it and we all sucked major air! We signed the book, pondered the beautiful 360degree view of the tiny Mt. Lassen, Trinity Alps, and greenery of Oregon in the distance. The cobalt blue sky really blew me away, and clouds lay several thousand feet below us. I shouted a big "JIMBO!" for my bro who made the trip in spirit and gave me inspiration to push so hard to make it.
After all that, we bailed off the summit and headed down the mountain. We had victory beer in the car and wanted to breath again! The decent back to Helen Lake only took an hour or so. The idea is to glissade on your ass down the mountain. Really saves you a lot of time. There are grooves in the snow made by the arses of previous climbers so it's like sliding down a 2000' water slide. You drag your ice axe behind you for a brake and just enjoy the ride. It was fun to slide down past all the other air-suckers still on Avalanche Gulch. The snow was getting slushy and the sun was BLAZING. All that snow acts like a giant solar oven and just cooks ya. Good thing we hiked at night!
All
I could think about from there was a beer and a bed. I had a wedding I
wanted to go to the next day so I passed on one more night of camping
(Shasta County was FULL by then anyway) so we had a big meal at Willy's
in Shasta city and headed home. I finally got to bed around 1AM so what's
that, about 45 hours without sleep? I must be crazy! I still wasn't ready
for bed. Matt and I stayed up chatting and watching television till I
finally gave in to sleep.
So if you ever want to try Shasta, Eat as much as possible, stay hydrated, and breathe as much as you can. All you need after that is plenty of heart to push you thought the hard parts. The rewards are all personal and well worth the effort.
— END
Credits:
Team
"Suck-Air":
Neil
Gentry
Ted Meister
Matt Fitzsimons
Kevin O'Mally
Mark Francis
Photographs
by
Mark Francis
© 2005
Web
References:
www.mountshasta.com
Mt.Shasta
Climbers Guide
Peakware
Encyclopedia
Virtual
Climb
Shasta Mountain
Guides
Ted Meister
©
2005