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My camp at Lone Pine

The day after I had made my way up and down Mt Whitney, I awoke uncertain of where to go and what to do next. My vacation was rapidly winding down and it was time to think about leaving California and heading back up to BC. I had enough time left for a day or two of activity along the way, but not really enough time to spend in an area such as Yosemite or the like. Also, after numerous days spent at moderately high altitudes in both the Sierras and Tetons, I was feeling extremely well acclimatised and thought it would be great to use this acclimatization before it all disappeared, back home at sea level. The obvious answer: Mt Shasta!

I packed up my camp near Lone Pine, California and headed north, stopping briefly in Bishop to check the weather forecast. The prediction of sunny and hot weather for California, and miserable, rainy conditions pretty much everywhere else confirmed my decision not to head home early. After a long and hot drive in my nonair-condition jeep, I finally reached the town of Mt Shasta a little before 7 pm. The sun was just beginning to set as I drove into town and the entire summit of the mountain was bathed in a beautiful alpin glow. Even tired and dehydrated as I was from the drive, I just couldn’t stop staring at the stark beauty of the mountain.

Mount Shasta from Castle Dome

The ranger station in town was already closed but they had a little kiosk outside with information and registration envelopes (there is a $15 US “Peak Fee”). I was a little disconcerted to find that they described the mountain in the following manner; “Due to exceptionally warm and dry conditions over the past year, snow on the south and west sides of the mountain is almost completely absent. This makes for a dangerous, loose rock, scree-scrambling climb with potential of major rock fall.” With some hesitation, I paid my peak fee and registered for my ascent up the “normal” Avalanche Gulch route.

Having dealt with the red tape, I raced the falling darkness up the “Everitt Memorial Highway” access road below Mt Shasta to the small NFS McBride Springs car campground where I set up my tent in the last site available. I was surprised at how many people there were here in the second week of September and wondered how many of them I would be sharing the trail with the following morning. Since it was now well past 8 pm, completely dark and I had no groceries, I elected to drive the 5 miles (8 km) back into town for a late supper, settling on the Casa Ramos Mexican Restaurant. At that late hour I was totally unprepared for the huge mound of food that arrived with my order! Finally, a little after 10 pm I was back at camp and ready for bed. I set my alarm for 4 am and slowly drifted off into a fitful sleep, haunted by dreams of being mired in endless, bottomless scree while trying to dodge barrage after barrage of rockfall. I guess piles of beans, rice and cheese are not the best thing to eat before climbing a mountain!

Sierra Club Cabin at Horse Camp (Photo taken on the way down)

At around 2:45 a.m., I woke up from this unpleasant sleep and decided that since I wasn’t having much fun sleeping, I might as well get up! I was still far too full to even think about breakfast so after some last minute packing I headed 6 more miles (10 km) up the “Everitt Memorial Highway” to the “Bunny Flat” trailhead at 6900’ (2104 m). I was not too surprised to find it deserted at that time of the morning and after quickly changing into pants from shorts (The morning was surprisingly cool), I was on the trail at 3:15 a.m.. Unlike Mt Whitney, the moon was hidden behind Mt Shasta so I was forced to make my way by headlamp up the easily graded National Forest Service trail. This time I actually welcomed the ease of this first part of the ascent as it allowed me to wake up and warm up gradually, not requiring any conscious thought or effort to follow.

After 1.8 miles (2.9 km) and 900’ (274 m) of elevation gain, I arrived at “Horse Camp” (no horses in sight), the site of a beautiful stone hut built by the Sierra Club. Here I stopped to fill up with water (this is the last reliable year round source of running water on this side of the mountain) at the highly improved spring, electing not to use my filter since the water came out of a tap and there were no signs warning of any danger. From Horse Camp I cast around in the dark for the path, almost stepping on someone’s silent tent, before finally locating the row of stepping stones leading in the direction of the mountain. This section of raised stones (know as Olberman’s Causeway after its builder) passed through some dry meadows and shortly led to the beginning of the real climbing and the first of the dreaded scree.

Looking down from below the Red Banks at dawn

At this point ascending in the dark began to become somewhat more complex. There were small flags along the way in many of the indistinct areas, but as I ascended the heavily traveled scree paths became more “braided” requiring constant vigilance to stay on the main route. It was hard to judge my progress in the little envelope of light created by my headlamp, but surprisingly quickly I arrived at the Helen Lake bivouac site (there was no lake that I could see, only a small dirty patch of snow and ice), located on a small, rocky bench at around 10,440 feet (3183 m). Again I passed by at least one tent, but I was surprised to see no headlamps on the slopes above me. In fact I was somewhat at a loss as to what I should do because from here there was no obvious path or flagging to follow. In the dark I could see the rough outline of Sergeant’s ridge towering above me but that was about it. After contemplating the situation for a few minutes, I decided to head for the sickle of remaining snow I dimly saw curving up in the general direction of the notch in the ridge I believed I was heading for.

From here on in the way was all loose rock and scree, with the occasional faint path to follow. Mostly I just let my legs find the easiest way, and the fact that I really couldn’t see my progress or lack thereof in the darkness actually made climbing up through the scree much less tiresome. In this terrain having trekking poles helped immeasurably and I actually found myself enjoying ascending straight up the slope rather than having to follow the endless switch backs there would be if this were an official NFS trail. I arrived near the bottom of the remaining snow slope just as the sky was beginning to brighten with the first hint of the coming sun, and was finally able to visually assess my route. I had the option of continuing up the remaining icy snow with crampons and an ice axe or crossing the snow and continuing up a minor depression in the scree slope to my right. I elected to do the latter because the snow seemed to lead a little too far to the left and it ended directly below the loose, tottering towers of the Red Banks, providing a direct path for any rock fall.

Misery Hill

I followed the depression in scree slope above as it lead to the right hand side of the Red Banks and thankfully it proved to be easier than it looked. There was a small frozen seep of water down the center that served to glue all the loose rocks together, providing reasonably firm footing, propelling me upwards as quickly as I had breath to proceed. Once at the Red Banks themselves I scouted around until I found a short and easy angled gully leading up between small overhanging piles of redish orange rock and clay, elated to finally pop out into the light from the rising sun at the top of the ridge.

My elation of being on the ridge crest did not last too long however, as a strong, freezing cold wind was blowing up the glaciers on the East side, forcing me to quickly stop and put on almost all my remaining clothing. After grabbing a quick powerbar for breakfast I continued up the aptly named “Misery Hill” (Yet more scree slogging), topping out to find the summit FINALLY in sight! All that was left was to cross a small permanent snow / ice field and a final short hike / scramble up the summit block itself, accompanied by the strong smell of sulfur coming from some nearby steam vents. At a little after 8:30 in the morning I was on the summit!

After the zoo scene on the summit of Mt Whitney, it was great to have this summit all to myself. I couldn’t believe that I was still feeling remarkably fresh and energetic after hiking 7 miles (11.3km) and gaining 7200 feet (2195 m)! It was like my body somehow knew that after this day it would get a rest and as a result was willing to tap into some hidden reserve of energy. I found a place out of the wind and basked in the sunshine, while eating my trail mix and reading the summit register. After finishing off the last of my trail mix and taking all the photos I could think of, I turned to head down at around 9:15 a.m.

Castle Dome and Mt Shasta from Castle Crags

Descending all this loose scree was sheer joy compared with the ascent! Being a major scree skiing freak, I blissfully slid, crashed, and banged my way down the mountain. Only the Red Banks, with their route finding and rock fall hazard potentional (to any people who might have been below me) slowed me down.

Once I passed these, I found I still had the mountain more or less to myself, (at least there was no one directly below me) so I cranked up the speed and was back at “Horse Camp” in two and quarter hours from the summit. After a quick drink of water, I made my way down the NFS “super highway” to the trail head, astonished to find that it was only noon! I drove back down to the Mcbride Springs Campground, packed up my tent, continued down to Mount Shasta City where I checked into a cheap motel for the first and best shower I’d had in far too long! Bliss!

Post Script: That afternoon I found I still had some left over energy, so I ended up hiking and scrambling to the top of Castle Dome in Castle Crags State Park only a few miles South of Shasta City on the I5. This turned out to be another great area (I wish I had brought a rope and partner) as well as a great place to enjoy the view of Mount Shasta. That night after supper I collapsed into my hotel bed and slept the sleep of the dead, completely content with this 20 mile (32 km), 9000+’ (2745m) elevation gain (and loss) final day of my so called “vacation”!

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Details: Date:   Sept 9, 2004   (1 day) Participants: Me! Gear:  Standard Hiking/Scrambling Gear, An ice axe & crampons and trekking poles would likely be useful most of the season. Rating: Mainly Class 2 with one or two Class 3 sections depending on route, 7200’ Elevation Gain

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