2003 Mt Shasta climb

Having past this mountain dozens of times and remarked, “One of these days, we’re going to have to climb that mountain,” and realizing with the boys almost all grown, that this might well be the last time before they are scattered to the world, I decided that this time we would climb it. Jared was of at war and my brother’s daughter Amy was getting married. So the plan was hatched that on the way back we would attempt the summit. Jean decided that she didn’t want to just wait around in camp so she stayed longer with her folks and we flew her home. Jordon and I drove back up and camped overnight at Castle Crags State park. That’s another place I’ve coveted for years! The next morning, we picked up a few missing camp items, registered for the climb and finally found ourselves to the trailhead about 11AM. We exchanged pleasantries with a man and his teenage daughter who were considering the climb themselves and then hefted our packs - ooh and set off. I really don’t care for all that weight.

It took a few hours to get to the rangers shack at the base of the forever talus trail to the show fields. A pure mountain spring bubbled from a rock pile was a pleasant greeting and our last fresh water until we returned. Leading from the cabin was a trail laboriously created from large stones – really a stairway of sorts, a nearly endless one it seemed after a while. The problem with steps is that they are typically too long or too short for whatever gait suited me. Finally, though, that gave way to a rambling trail that followed a gully upward – always upward to the talus fields.

This very rough and bone dry trail wanders steeply through the broken rocks for about 3000 ft occasionally though a patch of snow now and then teasing you with the cool trickle sounds of a glacier fed stream, though always our of reach.

Finally as the day waxes to longer shadows ( for us around 6 or 7) we view the talus castles that would be our camp at the base of the snow. Many climbers before had like turtles heaped up stone fortresses to shield the wind. We chose a good spot and set up out tent. Jordon gather the best snow he could find and I set about to melt it for the next day and our evenings meal.

We were both very tired and the 10000 ft altitude sapped at what strength remained. We had a brief evening devotional and retired to a rewarding sleep.

The morning alarm came quite early and we stumbled out of our warm cocoons, devourer our oatmeal and donned our gear. We only had about 10-15 lbs but even that was disagreeable. Under headlamps at about 4:30AM we descended into the snow bowl and then pressed upwards; from then on - forever upwards. The steepness at some parts was enough that it taxed you mentally demanding for a flat resting spot. Nearing about 12,000 feet Jordon began lagging and I could tell he was really struggling. I guessed it was the altitude, as his normal youthful stamina would considerably exceed my own. I waited for him to catch up and then showed him how to pressure breathe. That must have really done the trick as a trailed him subsequently for the rest of the journey! The sun was rising and we could make out the triangular shadow of Rainier as cast against the surrounding countryside

Another 500 ft and we were at the giant Red Cliffs. They really don’t look like much from any photo and even standing at their base do not seem such a trial, but we were to learn otherwise. The first part, I thought would be the toughest as a few short sections were 70 degrees and in some sections icy. That quickly rolled of to a steady 45 degrees or so and long cleft in the cliff that runs up and through the cliff like a knife cut on the outside of a frosted cake. What you cannot see is that the cleft runs on on on and on for what seems to be a ¼ mile and of course another 500 feet.

When we finally emerged onto a large saddle the whole world jumped out before us.. In front of us, another dry talus hill shielded any comforting view of the summit. Here we rested in another rock shelter and drought heavily on our water and food rations. It was while resting here that we met that same father & daughter from the previous day. Seems they were serious hikers after all and were making a quick-strike summit attempt in one day; no real provisions, just a bit of food water crampons and ice axes, and they were in fact making excellent time.

We rested a bit longer and followed the other teams up the talus trail. In addition to the Ice axes, we had brought collapsible walking sticks, which we put to good effect. The trail was rough and the walking poles were just the ticket to add a bit of stability and a hint of push. This seemed to go on for a several hundred more feet until we topped out to a long wide ridgeback, which now led prominently to the summit. The summit jutted up sharply and only a few hundred feet more at the end of the ridge.

From this gentle swale we could see Lasson to the south, the neighboring Siamese twin Shastina gloriously shimmering with volcanically created rainbow hews just below and to the west. We headed east, and once again we traversed snow, but since the slope was so gentle, we did not use our crampons. At last we arrived at the base of the final pinnacle. To the North and down into a sheltered cove we could see where John Muir and his companion weathered a massive blizzard only surviving by rotissering their bodies over hot sulfur vents; the wind so sever, they dared not hardly raise their heads.

Jordon continued to lead us up the steep switchbacks, which rapped around the peak finally topping out on the backside. What a glorious view. Another team was resting there and was kind enough to take our pictures perched on the tippy-top. We signed the register and snacked and joked a bit - mostly just let the panorama soak in.

We didn’t get to stay long as we could see some weather forming rapidly below. It came out of nowhere and seemed to be rushing up the mountain towards us. We took one last gaze and turned our backs towards the summit. Going down was such a breeze and it seemed only a few moments before we were back to the red cliffs.

I did not fee comfortable descending the steep snow and ice chute and instead led to us to where the red Cliffs ran out and met up with a finger extending from the snowfield. At this point the red cliffs petered into a ridge and to finally descended off it we had to down-climb them on the backside jumping across a bergschund. From this side we walked a short distance on the glacier and then hopped back to a notch. This spot leads to a popular projection called Thumb rock, but we had had our view and just skirted the cliffs kicking down exceptionally unstable talus. Finally we found a short chute that we could scramble down. That spot was a bit dicey and we took a few minor bumps.

The snow slope was very steep here and led eventually to several deep tracks in the snow made by countless butts sliding back to camp. Jordon and I roped up and stowed our walking sticks. With crampons and ice axes, again we each jumped unto the snow and gleefully slid down the snow. At this rate it only took moments to meet up with the luge run and from there we just careened banking off turns like a bobsled. We whooped it up and hollered away the several thousand feet back to camp.

We rested a bit, boiled a bit of water and then packed up the camp. The final trip down was actually somewhat tough. Our legs were a bit wobbly and towards the end we were out of water. I really just ejected my pack and ran to the spring when we got back to the cabin. The last leg seemed interminable even though it was only a few miles, but I got a bit of a second wind as we nearly caught up with that Father-daughter team at the cars. Tacobell in town never tasted so good.