Mt Shasta Sufferfest
Post Misery Hill, nearing the final summit push of Mt Shasta.
On July 8th, I left the Bay Area to meet my friends in the town of Shasta city for our two day mission to summit Mt Shasta. Unfortunately, as would become a recurring theme for this summer’s adventures, I woke up feeling quite ill. Ordinarily, I wouldn’t be too concerned, but the 2 day, 7200 foot climb of California’s northernmost 14er wasn’t a great setting for recovery. The logistics of Shasta were more than I was used to; heavy duty crampons, snow gear and enough food for 2 days made for a heavy pack and a slow pace.
After finally getting all of our gear together in town, we headed up the windy road towards Bunny Flat trailhead, starting at 6950 feet. The sun was beating down on us as we began, our mid July timing right on the edge of being too late in the season. When the snow melts on Shasta, the steep gullies become unsafe due to rockfall, especially when other parties are on the mountain. 3 weeks prior, a rockfall had broken a climber’s leg, requiring an airlift. I’d be sure to keep my eyes peeled for any such activity.
The first day is the mellower of the two for Shasta, a moderate yet consistent uphill towards Helen Lake, the basecamp of the mountain. It still is over 3,000 feet of climbing, and with heavy packs on, it was a bit harder than I was anticipating. The base camp was quiet, with 5-6 other groups total on the mountain. That night, we were treated to a spectacular alpine sunset overlooking the Trinity Alps and Shasta City below.
At 215 am, our alarms buzzed through the whipping wind. It wasn’t the most luxurious night sleep; the wind was blowing consistently in the 50 mph range which made it difficult to stay out for any extended period. I also awoke to the truly horrifying realization that I had left my cold brew in the backseat of my car, which meant I would have zero caffeine for the entire day. Now that I had met my requirement of at least one self sabotaging incident per adventure, I was ready to look towards the beginning of our route.
The route to the summit from Helen Lake is essentially straight up; 3,778 feet of gain over only a handful of miles. In the pitch black, we could see several other groups who had gotten a head start on us, a line of headlamps seemingly floating in the night air. Avalanche Gulch, the longest and most strenuous part of the whole climb, starts right away on Day 2. It is essentially as steep as it gets, with nothing resembling a break in the incline. The first part of the morning felt quite surreal, the crunch of snow and the whistle of the wind the only sounds as we marched through a lunar landscape. After a while, the quiet burn of the climb caused me to zone out completely, and a truly autopilot state was achieved.
I was snapped out of my brain fog by the sound of a yell further up the mountain. It got louder as something seemed to be getting relayed down from climber to climber. Then it finally came into focus. “ROCK!” I looked up to the sight of a basketball sized rock careening down the face directly at our group. I went left first, but the rock followed. Luckily, I was able to use my intellect to confuse it, juking back right and coming within 5 feet of a pretty significant injury. That would act as my caffeine for the day.
The rest of Avalanche Gulch I felt uneasy about rockfall. Witnessing a spectacular sunrise and the famous Shasta Shadow helped, but the climb just wouldn’t quit. Although it wasn’t my personal low point, Avalanche Gulch is the steepest and the most consistently brutal climb on the whole mountain. Once you’ve reached Red Banks (12820 feet), you have a real shot at summiting, even though there is still quite a bit more elevation to go. My worst fatigue of the climb came immediately following Red Banks, apparently a part of the route called “short hill.” It really isn’t that short.
The famous Shasta Shadow.
Next came Misery Hill, a part of the climb that would surely be more of a gut punch if it wasn’t named Misery Hill. Knowing that something miserable was coming helped, and since I expected the worst, I actually came out of it feeling reinvigorated. We were finally getting there. Next comes the first true flat section of the entire day, a wide open plateau of snow before the last push of the climb towards the rocky summit.
Shasta had certainly tested my will to this point. I had felt worse than I expected for virtually the entire day, but managed to continue trudging on until I could actually see the summit. I clearly overestimated my ability to power up this mountain in the same way I had done with some other high peaks, but there I finally was, the summit actually within striking distance. More than my shape or my preparedness, it was pure stubbornness that pushed me through the more discouraging sections, and now it was time to finish the job.
Although I was dreading it, the final incline of the day was relatively painless, and we were all soon standing on the peak. The views stretched as far as the eye could see in every direction; Mt Lassen to the east, the Trinity Alps to the west. All the while as we talked on the summit, the way down was on my mind. If we weren’t able to glissade down due to the iciness, we would have to walk the whole way, which sounded quite horrendous.
The summit of Mt Shasta. 14178 feet
Sadly, we had to walk the whole way. I attempted to glissade several times, but would always end up picking up an unreasonable amount of speed on the ice before I would be forced to self arrest. While I surely would have made it down quickly without self arresting, I likely wouldn’t be conscious by the time I got there, something I was strangely unwilling to compromise on. If you happen to be confident in your ability to reach highway caliber speeds while sliding down a mountain, go right ahead.
I would highly recommend skiing down avalanche gulch if you have the means; walking down in zigzag fashion the whole way down was the most agonizing part of the day for me by far. My crampons wouldn't stay on, my no caffeine delirium was reaching a peak, and the temperature swing caused me to suddenly be very overdressed. I was ready to get the hell off the mountain.
After packing up our campsite at Helen Lake, it had gotten sweltering in the heat of the day. The sun in the high elevation with the snow reflection was taking a toll, and I was running out of water. Luckily, after Helen Lake we finally were able to get some glissading done, covering big stretches and saving probably an hour of walking time. It was much needed for me; I still had to make the 4 hour drive back to the Bay Area and really didn’t want to careen into a ditch on the way home.
We finally made it back to Bunny Flat and our cars at around 4pm, making it a 30 hour car to car mission. Shasta, as it turns out, is no joke. I came into the hike neglecting hydration, without coffee, and with a pretty significant cold. However, I’m quite sure that the day would’ve kicked my ass regardless. It is a true giant of a mountain, and the perfect type of adventure to throw yourself at and see what you’re made of. I always come away from these days feeling a little bit stronger and tougher knowing that I actually experienced a true test and didn’t fold. Besides the views, that's why I’ll always keep coming back to the alpine.
