At my new teaching job I have many shops---the robotics PC lab, wood shop, metal shop, and AutoCAD Apple lab. Today a group of Korean school administrators came to visit our American high school. When they visited my class, I showed them the things that the students make in wood shop---cabinets, boxes, chests, tables, goblets, bowls, chessboards, cutting boards, etc. They couldn't believe that the students could make all these items at this age.
One of my gifted robotics students lent me his robot, so I showed the administrators how the pre-programmed robot moves. The new tasks that the students had to have their robot perform were for the robot to be able to maneuver the course while stopping at each turn, blinking the LED to signal a turn on that side, beep when backing up, and playing a victory song at the finish. This robot played "Yankee Doodle Dandy" which I thought was appropriate for demonstrating the greatness of American ingenuity! The administrators were very impressed and wondered where the remote for the robot was. lol I explained that it was all programmed in PBASIC and downloaded into the robot's memory.
When I took them to the metal shop, I showed them the car that one of my students is rebuilding, the TIG welding stations, the metal sanders, painting booth, metal lathe, and plasma cutter which cut out oak trees drawn on AutoCAD. I showed them the pen that we were trying to get to scribe into the metal, but so far it is cutting through. They were very impressed by this, as well.
At the end of my tour I asked if they had any questions. The one administrator who spoke the best English and translated for the others asked, "How many girls do you have in this program?"
Of course I was thinking, "NOT AGAIN!" That was the same question that the Federal ROP overseer asked me. I answered, "Well, we have a few girls in each class, but when the girls at the school saw a female shop teacher, more joined my classes."
Then the administrator asked, "Aren't the girls not strong enough to do these things? How do they lift heavy things?"
Of course I was thinking, "NOT AGAIN!" Here I'd been a pioneer for women in engineering when I was running a million dollar Japanese/American project that lasted 9 months. My boss and I didn't let the Japanese know that I was a woman, since they only had female engineers serve coffee. At the end of the project that my team finished on time and within budget, which was unheard of for American engineers, I finally let my boss tell them that I was a woman, and they were in utter disbelief! Now I had to find a way to gently tell this Korean administrator about the greatness of women in creating things from thought, if they're given a chance.
Without missing a beat, I pointed at the strong teenage men in the metal shop and said, "We have all these strong young men to help move the heavy things. When I worked as a mechanical engineer, I had many people who worked for me." I pointed to my head and added, "I was paid for my thoughts and delegated to others the details of creating my designs," and left it at that. The female Korean administrator smiled at me in acknowledgement of what I do every day to truly emancipate women to be free to discover and pursue their talents. Not many of our dad's taught us how to use tools, so I'm stepping in and giving the young ladies and men a chance to discover the joy of shaping their own worlds with awesome power tools!
P.S. To my blog readers: If you want to support a struggling math/engineering teacher and author, please buy my first book, "The Romance of Kilimanjaro," soon to be followed by my second book at: https://www.tatepublishing.com/bookstore/book.php?w=9781613464960 Thank You!
Thursday, February 12, 2015
Monday, February 9, 2015
A Warm Holiday of Skiing With My Children
After 5 years of only a distant adult relationship with my daughter due to a combination of my own errors and my ex-husband's parental alienation, we had a break through on July 7th of this year. She finally "friended" me on Facebook. She had "friended" my sisters, my step mom, her new step mom, and just about everyone but me. It was a painful issue to deal with and caused me many a tearful night of prayers for reconciliation. The day of being "friended" came though. It came on my day when all is reconstructed for me, July 7th.
To keep positive momentum going in our healing relationship, I invited my daughter with her fiance and my son with his girlfriend to Tahoe over the December break to snow ski. My son insisted that instead of paying for lessons that I actually teach all of them how to ski. That seemed quite daunting. Memories of my friends with bloody lips from me taking them on slopes that were too hard came to my mind. Memories of my brothers getting on both sides of me and skiing me off a cliff in retribution for me trying to teach my ex-husband how to jump a cornice when he was only an intermediate skier came to my mind. Being an expert skier after starting to ski at 7 years old makes one forget what is scary and what is difficult.
However, now I'm a high school teacher who knows how to teach. I just didn't know where to begin. So early in December I started asking ski instructors that I rode with on chairlifts how to teach beginners, so I wouldn't inadvertently upset, hurt, and scare my children! The first step to learn how to ski is walking on skis. How simple!
It's simple in theory, but if a person has never used an edge to stop a snowboard or an ice skate, walking on skis is completely foreign. My son's girlfriend had never seen snow before she arrived at my Tahoe home. So she was quite a challenge to teach. In contrast, my daughter and son both learned to snow board when they were children, so walking on skis wasn't such a problem once I showed them side stepping and V-stepping to climb up a hill.
Since I learned to ski at Boreal Ski Resort, I chose that resort to teach my adult children. When I learned how to ski there with my dad, he'd push me down the hill, and he'd push me back up the hill by the lodge. Later, I progressed to the rope tow, and finally the beginner chair. I remember not being able to get off one chair lift there, so the chair operator had to take my skis off and have me fall into his arms.
Boreal Ski Resort now has an amazing set up for beginner skiers! They have mowed down the hill where my dad had pushed me, so beginners could easily walk on their skis to their runs. There are two escalators that the skier just steps onto and it takes them up a very mild incline, so they can learn how to stop and turn. The escalators are much easier to ride than a rope tow or chair. That was such a blessing for our start.
Once my daughter got off the escalator she was having a hard time fighting her fear of not being able to stop. She remembered how to turn, but she immediately fell to stop herself when she started moving too fast. Her fiance and I were there and she said, "I don't want to ski! I can't do this!" and her bottom lip went out like it did when she was a little girl, though now she is graduating the top of her class in nursing school. Immediately, I got uphill from her and did a mommy coo, "It's going to be all right. Just let me ski you down the hill so you get a feel for it." I wrapped my skis and self around my daughter who was 4 inches taller than me and hugged her closely to me and guided her skis with mine down the hill to the bottom of the escalator without incident.
Without any prodding she got back onto the escalator and tried again. She slowly snow plowed down the gentle slope and made large turns until she was at the bottom of the escalator again. Over and over again she tried and tried and became better and better as I skied behind her and encouraged and coached her as my teacher self, a person that she did not know.
My son's girlfriend also skied with me wrapped around her, but it took her much longer to figure out how to slow herself and stop. Sometimes I just had her move a ski back and forth on the snow and slide it and then grab an edge, so she could have some understanding of what edges do. Eventually, she was able to turn, but would crash into the safety fence and rest awhile.
My son, on the other hand, was doing quite well with little help. My daughter's fiance was enjoying the moment, but he wrestled demons from his last ski trip when he was badly hurt. Once his demons were pinned down his advanced-intermediate-skier self got bored. Then he tried to do what all more advanced skiers do to less advanced skiers---get them to go on a more interesting run though they might not be ready. I started to see him act as I once did, which earned me a warning from all who skied with me to all who wanted to ski with me, "Beware!" So I took him away to explore some more advanced runs while everyone practiced.
We had a lovely time getting to know each other. It ended up that he was the one that insisted that my daughter "friend" me on Facebook. He told her that that was just mean. He also had to pay his own way through college, and I paid for my daughter's while working four to five jobs, so he felt that that was especially mean. I really like my son-in-law to be!
After days of me teaching my kids and their significant others how to ski, we had a lot of successes. My son ended up skiing at my same speed, albeit a bit frightening for me to watch, since he lacked some control. He lovingly told me in his own words that his goal is to ski with me so that I don't have to continue my 40 years of calling out "Single!" to find another person to ride an expert ski chair with me. My son-in-law to be and I really enjoyed skiing and exploring the mountain together and perhaps he'll insist that I teach the grandchildren how to ski on their family ski vacations! My daughter became an intermediate skier and started reminding me of my mother. She has my mom's graceful, but tentative style. My son's girlfriend may or may not ski again, though she did learn to use her edges and stop eventually. What wonderful skiing memories we made all together!
P.S. To my blog readers: If you want to support a struggling math/engineering teacher and author, please buy my first book, "The Romance of Kilimanjaro," soon to be followed by my second book at: https://www.tatepublishing.com/bookstore/book.php?w=9781613464960 Thank You!
To keep positive momentum going in our healing relationship, I invited my daughter with her fiance and my son with his girlfriend to Tahoe over the December break to snow ski. My son insisted that instead of paying for lessons that I actually teach all of them how to ski. That seemed quite daunting. Memories of my friends with bloody lips from me taking them on slopes that were too hard came to my mind. Memories of my brothers getting on both sides of me and skiing me off a cliff in retribution for me trying to teach my ex-husband how to jump a cornice when he was only an intermediate skier came to my mind. Being an expert skier after starting to ski at 7 years old makes one forget what is scary and what is difficult.
However, now I'm a high school teacher who knows how to teach. I just didn't know where to begin. So early in December I started asking ski instructors that I rode with on chairlifts how to teach beginners, so I wouldn't inadvertently upset, hurt, and scare my children! The first step to learn how to ski is walking on skis. How simple!
It's simple in theory, but if a person has never used an edge to stop a snowboard or an ice skate, walking on skis is completely foreign. My son's girlfriend had never seen snow before she arrived at my Tahoe home. So she was quite a challenge to teach. In contrast, my daughter and son both learned to snow board when they were children, so walking on skis wasn't such a problem once I showed them side stepping and V-stepping to climb up a hill.
Since I learned to ski at Boreal Ski Resort, I chose that resort to teach my adult children. When I learned how to ski there with my dad, he'd push me down the hill, and he'd push me back up the hill by the lodge. Later, I progressed to the rope tow, and finally the beginner chair. I remember not being able to get off one chair lift there, so the chair operator had to take my skis off and have me fall into his arms.
Boreal Ski Resort now has an amazing set up for beginner skiers! They have mowed down the hill where my dad had pushed me, so beginners could easily walk on their skis to their runs. There are two escalators that the skier just steps onto and it takes them up a very mild incline, so they can learn how to stop and turn. The escalators are much easier to ride than a rope tow or chair. That was such a blessing for our start.Once my daughter got off the escalator she was having a hard time fighting her fear of not being able to stop. She remembered how to turn, but she immediately fell to stop herself when she started moving too fast. Her fiance and I were there and she said, "I don't want to ski! I can't do this!" and her bottom lip went out like it did when she was a little girl, though now she is graduating the top of her class in nursing school. Immediately, I got uphill from her and did a mommy coo, "It's going to be all right. Just let me ski you down the hill so you get a feel for it." I wrapped my skis and self around my daughter who was 4 inches taller than me and hugged her closely to me and guided her skis with mine down the hill to the bottom of the escalator without incident.
Without any prodding she got back onto the escalator and tried again. She slowly snow plowed down the gentle slope and made large turns until she was at the bottom of the escalator again. Over and over again she tried and tried and became better and better as I skied behind her and encouraged and coached her as my teacher self, a person that she did not know.
My son's girlfriend also skied with me wrapped around her, but it took her much longer to figure out how to slow herself and stop. Sometimes I just had her move a ski back and forth on the snow and slide it and then grab an edge, so she could have some understanding of what edges do. Eventually, she was able to turn, but would crash into the safety fence and rest awhile. My son, on the other hand, was doing quite well with little help. My daughter's fiance was enjoying the moment, but he wrestled demons from his last ski trip when he was badly hurt. Once his demons were pinned down his advanced-intermediate-skier self got bored. Then he tried to do what all more advanced skiers do to less advanced skiers---get them to go on a more interesting run though they might not be ready. I started to see him act as I once did, which earned me a warning from all who skied with me to all who wanted to ski with me, "Beware!" So I took him away to explore some more advanced runs while everyone practiced.We had a lovely time getting to know each other. It ended up that he was the one that insisted that my daughter "friend" me on Facebook. He told her that that was just mean. He also had to pay his own way through college, and I paid for my daughter's while working four to five jobs, so he felt that that was especially mean. I really like my son-in-law to be!
After days of me teaching my kids and their significant others how to ski, we had a lot of successes. My son ended up skiing at my same speed, albeit a bit frightening for me to watch, since he lacked some control. He lovingly told me in his own words that his goal is to ski with me so that I don't have to continue my 40 years of calling out "Single!" to find another person to ride an expert ski chair with me. My son-in-law to be and I really enjoyed skiing and exploring the mountain together and perhaps he'll insist that I teach the grandchildren how to ski on their family ski vacations! My daughter became an intermediate skier and started reminding me of my mother. She has my mom's graceful, but tentative style. My son's girlfriend may or may not ski again, though she did learn to use her edges and stop eventually. What wonderful skiing memories we made all together!P.S. To my blog readers: If you want to support a struggling math/engineering teacher and author, please buy my first book, "The Romance of Kilimanjaro," soon to be followed by my second book at: https://www.tatepublishing.com/bookstore/book.php?w=9781613464960 Thank You!
Saturday, February 7, 2015
Girls in ROP
When I started my new teaching job, the ROP chair told me that a Federal ROP Oversight Observer would be visiting my class. She add, "But don't worry. I'll prep you on all the questions."
So I prepared all my robotics students that the Feds were coming on Friday. We made the robotic track tape in red, white, and blue, and the students were actively trying to get their Boe Bot programmed to properly run the course without touching the tape. The students also knew to be on their best behavior.
Friday came and no one had prepped me on the questions, so I wondered if the Feds were coming after all. Then while I was wandering around with my laptop in hand taking roll, I turned around and there they were. The observer was a woman of my age---a 1980's technical professional. She immediately asked me a few questions about how I've set up my program.
I explained, "Well, the first day of this class I had to move the student computers from another classroom to this one. Most of the computers had been very beaten up, so each student had to rebuild their own computer with extra boards that we had lying around. The keyboards were ruined, so one student's dad donated keyboards from Sac State.
Most of the students were able to get their computers running again, and that was their first grade. Then they had to get the old Parallax Boe Bots working again, so we learned how to trouble shoot to find which part didn't work by trading out parts one part at a time. Finally, they programmed the robots using PBASIC and are getting graded on if their robot can follow the track.
She was very impressed. Then she asked, "How many girls do you have in the program?" Now when I arrived at this high school I was very disturbed by how few girls were in my classes, so I took a moment to answer. Then I explained, "I have one girl in this class and a few in the other classes. However, when a few girls saw that a female was teaching the ROP classes, they transferred in to my classes. They were met with some resistance, but I separated them from the boys causing the resistance and started training the girls on basic woodworking skills. Some of the boys also needed to learn these skills, so they came over with me. Then some of the advanced boys started helping the girls learn their skills, as well."
"At my last school a girl came into my class kicking and screaming and told me that she didn't want to be there, but had no other place to go. By the time that I left that school, she loved engineering. She even wrote me a letter saying that she wanted to be just like me!"
The federal observer smiled at that and we agreed that boys didn't come born knowing how to use tools, some one showed them how to use them, so boys and girls both had the capability to be good with tools. I mentioned, "My dad gave me a lot of great tools for my dowry, but it backfired on him, because I ended up being the one who used the tools!" and we all laughed. I added, "I always tell my classes when they asked if they should call me Miss or Mrs. that I have never gone by either. I've always gone by Ms., because I'm not defined by my marital status, but by my own accomplishments." We also bonded over shared experiences in the technical industry in the 1980s.
I'll never forget being a speaker at San Jose State's ASME meeting in the latter 1980's. The young men were so disappointed that I was a woman. There wasn't a single female engineering student in the room either. Then I gave a speech about being a manufacturing engineer in order to become a better design engineer. In manufacturing an engineer sees all the design mistakes and design strategies. Armed with that knowledge, one can become a great design engineer! By the end of the speech, I'd won them over and hopefully left an impression about women being competent engineers.
Apparently, I left a great impression on this federal ROP observer, because my principal came in to my next classes to personally tell me that our high school ROP program passed and was saved!
P.S. To my blog readers: If you want to support a struggling math/engineering teacher and author, please buy my first book, "The Romance of Kilimanjaro," soon to be followed by my second book at: https://www.tatepublishing.com/bookstore/book.php?w=9781613464960 Thank You!
So I prepared all my robotics students that the Feds were coming on Friday. We made the robotic track tape in red, white, and blue, and the students were actively trying to get their Boe Bot programmed to properly run the course without touching the tape. The students also knew to be on their best behavior.
Friday came and no one had prepped me on the questions, so I wondered if the Feds were coming after all. Then while I was wandering around with my laptop in hand taking roll, I turned around and there they were. The observer was a woman of my age---a 1980's technical professional. She immediately asked me a few questions about how I've set up my program.
I explained, "Well, the first day of this class I had to move the student computers from another classroom to this one. Most of the computers had been very beaten up, so each student had to rebuild their own computer with extra boards that we had lying around. The keyboards were ruined, so one student's dad donated keyboards from Sac State.
Most of the students were able to get their computers running again, and that was their first grade. Then they had to get the old Parallax Boe Bots working again, so we learned how to trouble shoot to find which part didn't work by trading out parts one part at a time. Finally, they programmed the robots using PBASIC and are getting graded on if their robot can follow the track.
She was very impressed. Then she asked, "How many girls do you have in the program?" Now when I arrived at this high school I was very disturbed by how few girls were in my classes, so I took a moment to answer. Then I explained, "I have one girl in this class and a few in the other classes. However, when a few girls saw that a female was teaching the ROP classes, they transferred in to my classes. They were met with some resistance, but I separated them from the boys causing the resistance and started training the girls on basic woodworking skills. Some of the boys also needed to learn these skills, so they came over with me. Then some of the advanced boys started helping the girls learn their skills, as well."
"At my last school a girl came into my class kicking and screaming and told me that she didn't want to be there, but had no other place to go. By the time that I left that school, she loved engineering. She even wrote me a letter saying that she wanted to be just like me!"
The federal observer smiled at that and we agreed that boys didn't come born knowing how to use tools, some one showed them how to use them, so boys and girls both had the capability to be good with tools. I mentioned, "My dad gave me a lot of great tools for my dowry, but it backfired on him, because I ended up being the one who used the tools!" and we all laughed. I added, "I always tell my classes when they asked if they should call me Miss or Mrs. that I have never gone by either. I've always gone by Ms., because I'm not defined by my marital status, but by my own accomplishments." We also bonded over shared experiences in the technical industry in the 1980s.
I'll never forget being a speaker at San Jose State's ASME meeting in the latter 1980's. The young men were so disappointed that I was a woman. There wasn't a single female engineering student in the room either. Then I gave a speech about being a manufacturing engineer in order to become a better design engineer. In manufacturing an engineer sees all the design mistakes and design strategies. Armed with that knowledge, one can become a great design engineer! By the end of the speech, I'd won them over and hopefully left an impression about women being competent engineers.
Apparently, I left a great impression on this federal ROP observer, because my principal came in to my next classes to personally tell me that our high school ROP program passed and was saved!
P.S. To my blog readers: If you want to support a struggling math/engineering teacher and author, please buy my first book, "The Romance of Kilimanjaro," soon to be followed by my second book at: https://www.tatepublishing.com/bookstore/book.php?w=9781613464960 Thank You!
Monday, February 2, 2015
What I've Learned While I Was Away
What I've learned while I was away: "Even my favorite place in this world did not bring me the peace and respite for which I was hoping. True peace and respite is only found when your reactions from the onslaught of issues that this world slings is peaceful due to a purely defensive and not offensive reaction, and you rely upon your G-d-given wisdom for navigation and upon G_d to ultimately right the situation."
Trust me---it takes a lot of practice to not be offensive, but purely defensive. It may take a lifetime of practice. Just as it takes a lifetime of practice to purely rely upon G_d. We have to trust when logically there is no way to deal with an issue that the manna will come. We have to know that Amalek, evil, will attack every generation. We have to know that our troubles are honing us and moving us along our divine path.
We have to be vessels to emit the light in the darkness that was created by G_d. The darkness is not evil. The darkness was the only way that we could exist without being overwhelmed by G_d's light, so that G_d could bestow good upon us here in the darkness. Each one of us is capable of connecting to G_d and connecting the light of our neshamah, spiritual soul, to G_d. When we do that we create a ray of light. Imagine if we all created that ray of light! We would all be at peace and it would be like being in the Garden of Eden again.
P.S. To my blog readers: If you want to support a struggling math/engineering teacher and author, please buy my first book, "The Romance of Kilimanjaro," soon to be followed by my second book at: https://www.tatepublishing.com/bookstore/book.php?w=9781613464960 Thank You!
Trust me---it takes a lot of practice to not be offensive, but purely defensive. It may take a lifetime of practice. Just as it takes a lifetime of practice to purely rely upon G_d. We have to trust when logically there is no way to deal with an issue that the manna will come. We have to know that Amalek, evil, will attack every generation. We have to know that our troubles are honing us and moving us along our divine path.
We have to be vessels to emit the light in the darkness that was created by G_d. The darkness is not evil. The darkness was the only way that we could exist without being overwhelmed by G_d's light, so that G_d could bestow good upon us here in the darkness. Each one of us is capable of connecting to G_d and connecting the light of our neshamah, spiritual soul, to G_d. When we do that we create a ray of light. Imagine if we all created that ray of light! We would all be at peace and it would be like being in the Garden of Eden again.
P.S. To my blog readers: If you want to support a struggling math/engineering teacher and author, please buy my first book, "The Romance of Kilimanjaro," soon to be followed by my second book at: https://www.tatepublishing.com/bookstore/book.php?w=9781613464960 Thank You!
Sunday, February 1, 2015
I'm Back!
I've been away for a very good reason. I didn't want you to know what I was doing for the last 2.5 years. When I finally write the third book of "My Anatomy of a Midlife Crisis Series," I want you to be surprised.
I have been kayaking, but nothing as awesome as my San Diego times---no kayak surfing. I have been teaching, but now I teach high school engineering more than math. Teaching engineering is so much more fun and much easier, since it is the ultimate of Common Core practices. Love has found me, but I can't tell you how that ends yet.
What I will tell you is that I plan to write again. My books are just about bursting from me and will write themselves, if I don't sit down and finish my series of memoirs. This summer I've decided to not teach summer school, and I'm just going to write.
Here's a fun little video of my engineering students testing their CO2 cars that they made. I had a special population student start the race. He really enjoyed his job! https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=76DlZrBEAcI&feature=youtu.be
P.S. To my blog readers: If you want to support a struggling math/engineering teacher and author, please buy my first book, "The Romance of Kilimanjaro," soon to be followed by my second book at: https://www.tatepublishing.com/bookstore/book.php?w=9781613464960 Thank You!
I have been kayaking, but nothing as awesome as my San Diego times---no kayak surfing. I have been teaching, but now I teach high school engineering more than math. Teaching engineering is so much more fun and much easier, since it is the ultimate of Common Core practices. Love has found me, but I can't tell you how that ends yet.
What I will tell you is that I plan to write again. My books are just about bursting from me and will write themselves, if I don't sit down and finish my series of memoirs. This summer I've decided to not teach summer school, and I'm just going to write.
Here's a fun little video of my engineering students testing their CO2 cars that they made. I had a special population student start the race. He really enjoyed his job! https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=76DlZrBEAcI&feature=youtu.be
P.S. To my blog readers: If you want to support a struggling math/engineering teacher and author, please buy my first book, "The Romance of Kilimanjaro," soon to be followed by my second book at: https://www.tatepublishing.com/bookstore/book.php?w=9781613464960 Thank You!
Sunday, August 12, 2012
Summiting Mt. Shasta
A few climbers and I carpooled to the trail head, Sand Flat at 6800 ft., that was at the end of the road that passed the Fifth Season Shop where we got our rental climbing gear. I felt overwhelmed by nervousness. Why did I chose to climb a mountain that could kill me for a vacation? Was I too old and injured to be climbing mountains? Why didn't I chose an easier mountain than Mt. Shasta for my first high altitude climb, since climbing Mt. Kilimanjaro eight years ago?
This mountain turns back 2 out of 3 climbers before they reach the summit. It was no easy walk up into high altitudes. This was a technical mountain with its own weather systems which were very unpredictable. Would my old, snow-camping equipment from the late 1970's hold up still? Did I train hard enough? Would I be the slowest? Would I be left behind, because I am the slowest?
At the trail head a chipmunk running behind our guide eased my tension.
"Oh, a chipmunk!" I hadn't seen one in years. My guides thought my excitement strange and gave me a credulous look at my seemingly misplaced enthusiasm.
We gathered our group gear and loaded our bursting backpacks and started our climb. My first challenge was climbing over a fallen tree with a 45 pound backpack (over a third of my weight). The trunk was about 2.5 feet in diameter and it had tight-knit branches, so I had some hand holds with the branches at least.
When we found our first snow patch we stopped to get to know each other. We introduced ourselves by saying our name, where we're from, our past climbing experience, and who sang at our last live rock concert. I couldn't remember Tom Petty's name at the time, so I just mentioned the Van Halen concert that I'd attended.
With each step I started to feel a hot spot on one of my feet. I knew that I was going to have to stop and put on some mole skin with a hole cut over the area rubbed. The guides mentioned that they now use duct tape and superglue for hot spots and blisters. Flashbacks from the 1980's of reading Material Safety Data Sheets to my assemblers about cyanoacrylics (the first Superglue's) being carcinogenic came to mind, so even if superglue was safe now, I'd stick with my tried and true method of dealing with areas being rubbed. I was relieved that I only had one hot spot while using rental boots that I didn't get to break in personally.
Soon another young buck had a hot spot and needed to stop, so I seized the opportunity and put the moleskin in place at the joint by my little toe. Amazingly, that was the only hot spot that I ever got and that moleskin stayed in place for three days. It came off on its own when I got off the mountain and put on my street shoes. The old ways do work, too.
Once we got our socks back on without any wrinkles and carefully tied our boots, we all started hiking to Horse Camp at 7900 ft. The lodge was surrounded with snow. I was relieved. My camp shoes were my down booties inside of waterproof snow booties. I hate getting dirt on my snow booties when I'm walking around at night to commune with nature---water a tree.
At camp one of my guides taught me how to make snow anchors. You find a stick and wrap the tent cords around it. Then you dig a hole about 6-12 inches deep and bury the stick. Over the night the snow freezes the anchor, so the tent is well secured.
Our guides also gave us a quick lesson about walking with an ice axe while being roped together. Our young guide was busy showing us the French cross stepping method and other fancy methods. I tried them, but I told the other guide that I probably won't be doing those steps when the time comes. Since I have wider hips that once had trochanteric bursitis from running with my feet too close together, I maintain my great hip health by walking and (formerly running) with my feet directly below my hips. Crossing over the center line of my stance was a huge "No, no," for me. Adding a 45 pound backpack was only going to accelerate a hip injury, too.
After our lesson our guides made us some potato soup and tortilla wraps. We had a lot of vegetarians in my group, so I did have to go over to the young buck group and get some chicken for my wrap from their guide. That wasn't a problem, because they had a vegetarian in their group who needed to go over to get food from my guides.
Sleeping on the ground for the first time in 8 years wasn't too comfortable, even though snow is more comfortable than dirt. My face was also freezing though I tightened the opening to my down bag to a small hole. Then as usual I had to go commune with nature during the middle of the night. I was thankful to have my snow booties that just slipped onto my feet. My pajama-party, tent mate also had to go, so I led the way. When I turned off my Snow Miners Headlamp, the incredible stars burst into view. I just stared at the Milky Way that I'd never seen in California before. What a treat!
Without thinking that there were no mechanical noises to drown my voice, I announced to my tent mate, "Make sure to turn your headlamp off and look at the stars. They're awesome!" Of course, the tents all around me heard. At least some of the other climbers took the opportunity to see those beautiful stars at night on Mt. Shasta.
Early in the morning our guides woke us up and told us that the hot water for coffee, tea, and oatmeal was ready. We quickly got dressed and headed to the cooking area to pile down calories and caffeine for our climb through the snow with heavy backpacks. I even added some granola to my oatmeal. These calories were for tomorrow. I knew what tomorrow would bring---a long summit day---over 12 hours of hiking and perhaps a nap at high camp after summiting. Remembering the fatigue after summiting Mt. Kilimanjaro gave me trepidation about tomorrow.
A fabulous thing about Horse Camp, besides the stars and snow, is that there is a Potty Hut for bowel movements. Any other movements required communing with nature. Unfortunately, the high altitude was doing what it tends to do---causing constipation, so I hoped that I'd be that way the whole climb. Otherwise, I had to carry out a bowel movement in kitty litter. Yuck!!! I've never had to do that before. We used to just bury it. Some old ways I couldn't hold onto. There were too many people climbing in the California mountains anymore, so burying bowel movements would ruin the mountain.
With tents down, gear packed, and crampons on, we lined up and started our second day of climbing. We didn't have many miles to go to reach Lake Helen at 10,400 ft. We had a lot of elevation change, 2500 ft, while hiking through snow and carrying heavy backpacks. We only took a break every hour to power down snacks and drink water, so we just stepped in the footprint above us and slowly ascended to Lake Helen, which was just a dry lake covered with snow.
As the morning hours churned on, my bouncing water bottle that was poorly secured on my new backpack was really bothering me. It kept hitting the bruise on my upper arm from putting on my heavy backpack. So I stopped for help and waited for our second guide who was far behind us and was with the slowest climber in our group, my tent mate. Once my guide secured the water bottle, I continued onward.
I could still see the faster members of my group, so I set out climbing alone between my guides. Sometimes the guide with a couple of the struggling young bucks would be near me and encourage me to keep going. Trust me, I needed that encouragement. Apparently, the grade right below Lake Helen is 28%. Considering the load on my back, this section was grueling and took many of my internal encouragement coping mechanisms to keep myself moving. "It's just a little farther. I can see the others up on the ridge. I can do this! Pole, pole!"
Finally, I reached the top of the ridge of Lake Helen, exhausted and ready to lay my backpack down where ever I could. Before I did, our guide mentioned that we needed to dig out a place for our tents. The faster climbers in my group had mercy on me. They let me have the site that was already dug out, because my tent mate was not going to be much help. She was not going to arrive for quite some time. She was just starting the 28% grade.
With great relief, I took my backpack off where my tent opening would be, leveled the dug out area with my boots, and pulled the tent out of my pack.
I didn't have the poles, but I did bring some sticks up from Horse Camp to use for anchors. So I anchored down the tent and used the outdoor bathroom that one of the guides had built. He made a big snow wall with a bench to place our paper target should we have to use our bowel movement packet with kitty liter.
When my tent mate finally arrived, I told her to just relax. "I'll put the tent up." I got the poles from her pack, set it up, and got my sleeping bag out and airing on my new female Thermorest. My closed cell foam pad from the 1970's which I use for extra insulation and comfort was being requested for the top of the snow bench in the snow kitchen which our guides made. I guess some older mountaineering items are precious.
Before dinner we had a quick lesson about ice arrests.
We ate the rehydrated mountain grub which started to look the same even though it was a different selection. It didn't matter. We weren't here to eat delicious food. We were here to get enough calories to climb this mountain.
After dinner I carefully packed my backpack with only essentials. I put my snacks in the pockets of my down coat, so during our 20 minute breaks, I can maximize resting my legs. I also fitted my GoPro and Snow Miners Headlamp onto my helmet.
Our wake up call would be 2am, so we went to bed at 7pm. I wore my hat with a face mask to bed to keep my face warm and block the light of the day by pulling it over my eyes. Even though my tent mate was stirring, I fell fast asleep. My body didn't even mind sleeping on the snow that night.
The wake up call came right on time. Fortunately, I felt rested for only having 5 hours of sleep. We quickly got dressed; communed with nature; put our harnesses, crampons, and helmets with headlamps on; and got in line.
After we walked across the lake, our guides roped us up in groups of 5 including the guide. Then we continued our journey up the 35% grade as one in a rhythm with our ice axes and steps, "Plunge, step, step, plunge, step, step...." Our rhythm was only interrupted by our rest every hour for 20 minutes exactly.
"Stomp out your positions. Secure your packs. Eat," our guides instructed. We'd put our ice axes through one shoulder strap to secure our packs on the steep grade, get our jackets loaded with food on, and sit and rest. Some rests I started resting with my knees in the snow. I was having some knee pain that I'd been experiencing from double stepping stairs for months. I'd rested the injury away, but it came back. My knees must be in an improper position when I'm climbing.
When we were below "The Heart" some climbers above us let some rocks loose. "Rock!" We dived down and buried our heads. "That's why we start so early, so there's fewer people above us," our guide explained.
Eventually, the lines of light zig zagging up the mountain were replaced by dark figures on the white snow as the sun rose. Mt. Shasta's shadow made a dark pyramid in the west. I was a little sad that I didn't get to watch the sunrise in a higher location like I did on Mt. Kilimanjaro. Watching the sun rise over Africa was amazing from the crater rim. I was still on the west face of Avalanche Gulch for this sunrise, though.
It took about another hour to reach the ridge line at Red Banks at about 12,820 ft. What a beautiful view! Our guide then called our attention to the crevasse from the Konwakiton Glacier that we needed to carefully step over. "Follow my steps exactly," he instructed. With the threat of falling into oblivion, we sure did!
Misery Hill soon presented itself before us.
It's a 1000 feet of exposed climbing. The winds buffeted us, and it was a good day per the guides. The other woman that was as little as I am was blown around just like I was. We braced ourselves so hard against the southern wind that when it let up, we lurched to the south all together.
The glory of completing Misery Hill is that the top of Mt. Shasta at 14179 ft. finally reveals itself. It stands only a few hundred feet above the relatively flat plain.
However, the ease of crossing the beautiful snowy plain is quickly replaced by the horror that the air is sulfur-fume-filled. Here we had so little air to breathe and then it's filled with sulfur which made me nauseous. Mt. Shasta is an active volcano with fumerals after all. At least my Diamox kept me from getting altitude sickness.
Our guide had removed the rope from our harnesses, so we could summit on our own. As I crossed the plain, I pushed through my nausea and kept walking. Someone coming down from the summit apparently had talked to me while I was focusing through my fatigue and pain to keep on climbing, so my guide, a former professional mountain biker, who was behind me taking care of my tent mate came running up to me, "Are you OK? You didn't respond to another climber when he talked to you?"
I was confused about how "OK" I should be after hiking 4000ft for 6 hours at high altitude while inhaling sulfur fumes, but instinctively responded, "Oh, I'm a little hard of hearing at my age. I'm fine." I honestly had no idea that someone had talked to me. Even if I was delirious from fatigue and knee pain, the summit was right smack in front of me, and I was going to get that summit---deliria or no deliria.
Marching on alone I plodded my way slowly to the summit. My Indian friends in my group took pictures of me at the top waving to my mom in Heaven like I always do when I summit a mountain.
Then I remembered it was Father's Day, so I took my malfunctioning GoPro off my helmet and took a few 3 second videos wishing Dad "Happy Father's Day!" from the top of Mt. Shasta. Fortunately, the GoPro worked long enough at that altitude and low temperatures to convey my message.
Once my tent mate arrived and rested, we all headed down to the top of Misery Hill.
Remembering that I had to commune with nature I had my guide show me a safe place to relieve myself. He knew of a secluded spot that was shielded from the wind, but said, "Follow me exactly and don't step three feet over there. That's a glacier with a crevasse." Here I had been the one telling everyone about the lady in Alaska that fell into a glaciel mulan never to be found again while trying to have some privacy while relieving herself. I was a bit unnerved by my similar situation. Fortunately, my fate was to be seen again.
After rejoining my group of five climbers we descended rapidly to Red Banks while watching skiers having fun on Misery Hill. My Indian friends that were happily married climbers in love gave each other a kiss.
Our guide put on Hawaiin swim trunks to protect his waterproof pants from friction wear while glissading. Then the epic 2430 vertical feet butt skiing, I mean glissading began!
Our guide quickly discerned that I'd been butt skiing since I was in grade school, so he let me go on ahead while he lead the rest of our crew who were new at it. My group said that I was out of sight within 5 minutes which was hard to do since we could see Lake Helen. Some climbers that were playing in the bobsled-like trench that was being created by all the descending climbers glissading in the same groove saw me coming down fast with an avalanche of snow flowing right infront of me. They quickly got out of the groove/trench and let me pass. How cool was that?
When I made it to the end of the trench at Lake Helen, I was a bit lost. I couldn't see our tents. Remembering to always get high to get your bearings, I walked up a little ridge and looked over. Our tents were right below and there was another glissading groove leading to them! "Epic butt skiing day!" I thought to myself with a big grin. I only wished that my GoPro was working well enough to record it. (It apparently had started to work properly again at 12,830 ft. I just didn't know that.)
Unfortunately, my grin was wiped away upon arriving to camp. The other guide informed me that there was no time for me to rest before we descended to the cars. What? I'd been hiking since 2:30 am, summitted Mt. Shasta and returned before lunch and couldn't lay down to rest my weary, aching body! I hadn't planned on no rest at Lake Helen. I got to rest at Kibo Hut for an hour or two after summitting Mt. Kilimanjaro. I was downright angry!
"Clear your personal belongings out of the tent and the others will take your tent down," she said noticing that I was ready to explode in anger.
"We will still have my tentmate's things in the tent. I can't lie down for a minute?" I grumbled angrily.
"We're all tired," another climber from the fast group uttered with no mercy, since he was as exhausted as me and had to help take my tent down. I felt so unnurtured and missed my Kilimanjaro guides so much. They would have let me rest for at least a half hour.
Begrudgingly, I packed my sleeping bag, clothes, and foam pads into my once light backpack. It looked like it was bursting, since I was too tired to properly organized my gear. I just jammed it all in. Then I waited for the other four from my slower climbing group, while icing my knees in the snow and eating a Luna bar and dried mangos.
Finally, the other climbers arrived, and we packed up and headed down to Horse Camp. My Indian friends and I got off the main trail to Horse Camp, but we eventually got to it. They hadn't had much experience with snow---India doesn't have much snow, so I taught them about the dangers of getting too close to boulders as we approached many large boulders just melting through the snow. A climber can slip between the boulder and snow pack. It can be like falling into a crevasse, if you're terribly unlucky.
We rested at Horse Camp, and I used the last blanket of snow to make an ice pack for my knee that was screaming in pain. Once my tent mate appeared and got a snack and some water, we headed to the cars. We finally got to my truck at 5:30 pm. Apparently, I didn't have time for a nap.
We had hiked 15 hours on summit day! 100% of the 16 climbers in our group made it to the summit on a mountain where only 1/3 of the attempts are successful. Our Shasta Mountain Guides that REI had hired had fiercely scheduled us for success. They pushed us hard and made us uncomfortable, but made our dream of summitting Mt. Shasta come true.
Even though we were exhausted, we were insatiably hungry and had to find a restaurant after we returned our rentals in the drop box at the Fifth Season. Fortunately, Shasta City is used to dirty, tired climbers walking in to restaurants. We did change our clothes, but we did just return after three days of not showering and the shower had a lower priority to our hunger issue.
My vegetarian climbing friends were used to me eating meat by then, so I got a steak, potato, and beer, even though I normally drink Cabernet. My body just wanted a beer!
After dinner I gave all my new friends a copy of my memoir, "The Romance of Kilimanjaro." They were ready to climb that mountain now and may want some training tips and a better understanding of what to expect when climbing that mountain. As all mountain climbers know, once one mountain has been checked off the summitting list, another mountain needing to be climbed is right below it. Mountain climbing is highly addictive.
P.S. To my blog readers: If you want to support a struggling math/engineering teacher and author, please buy my first book, "The Romance of Kilimanjaro," soon to be followed by my second book at: https://www.tatepublishing.com/bookstore/book.php?w=9781613464960 Thank You!
This mountain turns back 2 out of 3 climbers before they reach the summit. It was no easy walk up into high altitudes. This was a technical mountain with its own weather systems which were very unpredictable. Would my old, snow-camping equipment from the late 1970's hold up still? Did I train hard enough? Would I be the slowest? Would I be left behind, because I am the slowest?
At the trail head a chipmunk running behind our guide eased my tension.
"Oh, a chipmunk!" I hadn't seen one in years. My guides thought my excitement strange and gave me a credulous look at my seemingly misplaced enthusiasm.
We gathered our group gear and loaded our bursting backpacks and started our climb. My first challenge was climbing over a fallen tree with a 45 pound backpack (over a third of my weight). The trunk was about 2.5 feet in diameter and it had tight-knit branches, so I had some hand holds with the branches at least.
When we found our first snow patch we stopped to get to know each other. We introduced ourselves by saying our name, where we're from, our past climbing experience, and who sang at our last live rock concert. I couldn't remember Tom Petty's name at the time, so I just mentioned the Van Halen concert that I'd attended.
With each step I started to feel a hot spot on one of my feet. I knew that I was going to have to stop and put on some mole skin with a hole cut over the area rubbed. The guides mentioned that they now use duct tape and superglue for hot spots and blisters. Flashbacks from the 1980's of reading Material Safety Data Sheets to my assemblers about cyanoacrylics (the first Superglue's) being carcinogenic came to mind, so even if superglue was safe now, I'd stick with my tried and true method of dealing with areas being rubbed. I was relieved that I only had one hot spot while using rental boots that I didn't get to break in personally.
Soon another young buck had a hot spot and needed to stop, so I seized the opportunity and put the moleskin in place at the joint by my little toe. Amazingly, that was the only hot spot that I ever got and that moleskin stayed in place for three days. It came off on its own when I got off the mountain and put on my street shoes. The old ways do work, too.
Once we got our socks back on without any wrinkles and carefully tied our boots, we all started hiking to Horse Camp at 7900 ft. The lodge was surrounded with snow. I was relieved. My camp shoes were my down booties inside of waterproof snow booties. I hate getting dirt on my snow booties when I'm walking around at night to commune with nature---water a tree.
At camp one of my guides taught me how to make snow anchors. You find a stick and wrap the tent cords around it. Then you dig a hole about 6-12 inches deep and bury the stick. Over the night the snow freezes the anchor, so the tent is well secured.
Our guides also gave us a quick lesson about walking with an ice axe while being roped together. Our young guide was busy showing us the French cross stepping method and other fancy methods. I tried them, but I told the other guide that I probably won't be doing those steps when the time comes. Since I have wider hips that once had trochanteric bursitis from running with my feet too close together, I maintain my great hip health by walking and (formerly running) with my feet directly below my hips. Crossing over the center line of my stance was a huge "No, no," for me. Adding a 45 pound backpack was only going to accelerate a hip injury, too.
After our lesson our guides made us some potato soup and tortilla wraps. We had a lot of vegetarians in my group, so I did have to go over to the young buck group and get some chicken for my wrap from their guide. That wasn't a problem, because they had a vegetarian in their group who needed to go over to get food from my guides.
Sleeping on the ground for the first time in 8 years wasn't too comfortable, even though snow is more comfortable than dirt. My face was also freezing though I tightened the opening to my down bag to a small hole. Then as usual I had to go commune with nature during the middle of the night. I was thankful to have my snow booties that just slipped onto my feet. My pajama-party, tent mate also had to go, so I led the way. When I turned off my Snow Miners Headlamp, the incredible stars burst into view. I just stared at the Milky Way that I'd never seen in California before. What a treat!
Without thinking that there were no mechanical noises to drown my voice, I announced to my tent mate, "Make sure to turn your headlamp off and look at the stars. They're awesome!" Of course, the tents all around me heard. At least some of the other climbers took the opportunity to see those beautiful stars at night on Mt. Shasta.
Early in the morning our guides woke us up and told us that the hot water for coffee, tea, and oatmeal was ready. We quickly got dressed and headed to the cooking area to pile down calories and caffeine for our climb through the snow with heavy backpacks. I even added some granola to my oatmeal. These calories were for tomorrow. I knew what tomorrow would bring---a long summit day---over 12 hours of hiking and perhaps a nap at high camp after summiting. Remembering the fatigue after summiting Mt. Kilimanjaro gave me trepidation about tomorrow.
A fabulous thing about Horse Camp, besides the stars and snow, is that there is a Potty Hut for bowel movements. Any other movements required communing with nature. Unfortunately, the high altitude was doing what it tends to do---causing constipation, so I hoped that I'd be that way the whole climb. Otherwise, I had to carry out a bowel movement in kitty litter. Yuck!!! I've never had to do that before. We used to just bury it. Some old ways I couldn't hold onto. There were too many people climbing in the California mountains anymore, so burying bowel movements would ruin the mountain.
With tents down, gear packed, and crampons on, we lined up and started our second day of climbing. We didn't have many miles to go to reach Lake Helen at 10,400 ft. We had a lot of elevation change, 2500 ft, while hiking through snow and carrying heavy backpacks. We only took a break every hour to power down snacks and drink water, so we just stepped in the footprint above us and slowly ascended to Lake Helen, which was just a dry lake covered with snow.
As the morning hours churned on, my bouncing water bottle that was poorly secured on my new backpack was really bothering me. It kept hitting the bruise on my upper arm from putting on my heavy backpack. So I stopped for help and waited for our second guide who was far behind us and was with the slowest climber in our group, my tent mate. Once my guide secured the water bottle, I continued onward.
I could still see the faster members of my group, so I set out climbing alone between my guides. Sometimes the guide with a couple of the struggling young bucks would be near me and encourage me to keep going. Trust me, I needed that encouragement. Apparently, the grade right below Lake Helen is 28%. Considering the load on my back, this section was grueling and took many of my internal encouragement coping mechanisms to keep myself moving. "It's just a little farther. I can see the others up on the ridge. I can do this! Pole, pole!"
Finally, I reached the top of the ridge of Lake Helen, exhausted and ready to lay my backpack down where ever I could. Before I did, our guide mentioned that we needed to dig out a place for our tents. The faster climbers in my group had mercy on me. They let me have the site that was already dug out, because my tent mate was not going to be much help. She was not going to arrive for quite some time. She was just starting the 28% grade.
With great relief, I took my backpack off where my tent opening would be, leveled the dug out area with my boots, and pulled the tent out of my pack.
When my tent mate finally arrived, I told her to just relax. "I'll put the tent up." I got the poles from her pack, set it up, and got my sleeping bag out and airing on my new female Thermorest. My closed cell foam pad from the 1970's which I use for extra insulation and comfort was being requested for the top of the snow bench in the snow kitchen which our guides made. I guess some older mountaineering items are precious.
Before dinner we had a quick lesson about ice arrests.
We ate the rehydrated mountain grub which started to look the same even though it was a different selection. It didn't matter. We weren't here to eat delicious food. We were here to get enough calories to climb this mountain.
After dinner I carefully packed my backpack with only essentials. I put my snacks in the pockets of my down coat, so during our 20 minute breaks, I can maximize resting my legs. I also fitted my GoPro and Snow Miners Headlamp onto my helmet.
Our wake up call would be 2am, so we went to bed at 7pm. I wore my hat with a face mask to bed to keep my face warm and block the light of the day by pulling it over my eyes. Even though my tent mate was stirring, I fell fast asleep. My body didn't even mind sleeping on the snow that night.
The wake up call came right on time. Fortunately, I felt rested for only having 5 hours of sleep. We quickly got dressed; communed with nature; put our harnesses, crampons, and helmets with headlamps on; and got in line.
After we walked across the lake, our guides roped us up in groups of 5 including the guide. Then we continued our journey up the 35% grade as one in a rhythm with our ice axes and steps, "Plunge, step, step, plunge, step, step...." Our rhythm was only interrupted by our rest every hour for 20 minutes exactly.
"Stomp out your positions. Secure your packs. Eat," our guides instructed. We'd put our ice axes through one shoulder strap to secure our packs on the steep grade, get our jackets loaded with food on, and sit and rest. Some rests I started resting with my knees in the snow. I was having some knee pain that I'd been experiencing from double stepping stairs for months. I'd rested the injury away, but it came back. My knees must be in an improper position when I'm climbing.
When we were below "The Heart" some climbers above us let some rocks loose. "Rock!" We dived down and buried our heads. "That's why we start so early, so there's fewer people above us," our guide explained.
Eventually, the lines of light zig zagging up the mountain were replaced by dark figures on the white snow as the sun rose. Mt. Shasta's shadow made a dark pyramid in the west. I was a little sad that I didn't get to watch the sunrise in a higher location like I did on Mt. Kilimanjaro. Watching the sun rise over Africa was amazing from the crater rim. I was still on the west face of Avalanche Gulch for this sunrise, though.
It took about another hour to reach the ridge line at Red Banks at about 12,820 ft. What a beautiful view! Our guide then called our attention to the crevasse from the Konwakiton Glacier that we needed to carefully step over. "Follow my steps exactly," he instructed. With the threat of falling into oblivion, we sure did!
Misery Hill soon presented itself before us.
It's a 1000 feet of exposed climbing. The winds buffeted us, and it was a good day per the guides. The other woman that was as little as I am was blown around just like I was. We braced ourselves so hard against the southern wind that when it let up, we lurched to the south all together.
The glory of completing Misery Hill is that the top of Mt. Shasta at 14179 ft. finally reveals itself. It stands only a few hundred feet above the relatively flat plain.
However, the ease of crossing the beautiful snowy plain is quickly replaced by the horror that the air is sulfur-fume-filled. Here we had so little air to breathe and then it's filled with sulfur which made me nauseous. Mt. Shasta is an active volcano with fumerals after all. At least my Diamox kept me from getting altitude sickness.
Our guide had removed the rope from our harnesses, so we could summit on our own. As I crossed the plain, I pushed through my nausea and kept walking. Someone coming down from the summit apparently had talked to me while I was focusing through my fatigue and pain to keep on climbing, so my guide, a former professional mountain biker, who was behind me taking care of my tent mate came running up to me, "Are you OK? You didn't respond to another climber when he talked to you?"
I was confused about how "OK" I should be after hiking 4000ft for 6 hours at high altitude while inhaling sulfur fumes, but instinctively responded, "Oh, I'm a little hard of hearing at my age. I'm fine." I honestly had no idea that someone had talked to me. Even if I was delirious from fatigue and knee pain, the summit was right smack in front of me, and I was going to get that summit---deliria or no deliria.
Marching on alone I plodded my way slowly to the summit. My Indian friends in my group took pictures of me at the top waving to my mom in Heaven like I always do when I summit a mountain.
Then I remembered it was Father's Day, so I took my malfunctioning GoPro off my helmet and took a few 3 second videos wishing Dad "Happy Father's Day!" from the top of Mt. Shasta. Fortunately, the GoPro worked long enough at that altitude and low temperatures to convey my message.
Once my tent mate arrived and rested, we all headed down to the top of Misery Hill.
Remembering that I had to commune with nature I had my guide show me a safe place to relieve myself. He knew of a secluded spot that was shielded from the wind, but said, "Follow me exactly and don't step three feet over there. That's a glacier with a crevasse." Here I had been the one telling everyone about the lady in Alaska that fell into a glaciel mulan never to be found again while trying to have some privacy while relieving herself. I was a bit unnerved by my similar situation. Fortunately, my fate was to be seen again.
After rejoining my group of five climbers we descended rapidly to Red Banks while watching skiers having fun on Misery Hill. My Indian friends that were happily married climbers in love gave each other a kiss.
Our guide put on Hawaiin swim trunks to protect his waterproof pants from friction wear while glissading. Then the epic 2430 vertical feet butt skiing, I mean glissading began!
Our guide quickly discerned that I'd been butt skiing since I was in grade school, so he let me go on ahead while he lead the rest of our crew who were new at it. My group said that I was out of sight within 5 minutes which was hard to do since we could see Lake Helen. Some climbers that were playing in the bobsled-like trench that was being created by all the descending climbers glissading in the same groove saw me coming down fast with an avalanche of snow flowing right infront of me. They quickly got out of the groove/trench and let me pass. How cool was that?
When I made it to the end of the trench at Lake Helen, I was a bit lost. I couldn't see our tents. Remembering to always get high to get your bearings, I walked up a little ridge and looked over. Our tents were right below and there was another glissading groove leading to them! "Epic butt skiing day!" I thought to myself with a big grin. I only wished that my GoPro was working well enough to record it. (It apparently had started to work properly again at 12,830 ft. I just didn't know that.)
Unfortunately, my grin was wiped away upon arriving to camp. The other guide informed me that there was no time for me to rest before we descended to the cars. What? I'd been hiking since 2:30 am, summitted Mt. Shasta and returned before lunch and couldn't lay down to rest my weary, aching body! I hadn't planned on no rest at Lake Helen. I got to rest at Kibo Hut for an hour or two after summitting Mt. Kilimanjaro. I was downright angry!
"Clear your personal belongings out of the tent and the others will take your tent down," she said noticing that I was ready to explode in anger.
"We will still have my tentmate's things in the tent. I can't lie down for a minute?" I grumbled angrily.
"We're all tired," another climber from the fast group uttered with no mercy, since he was as exhausted as me and had to help take my tent down. I felt so unnurtured and missed my Kilimanjaro guides so much. They would have let me rest for at least a half hour.
Begrudgingly, I packed my sleeping bag, clothes, and foam pads into my once light backpack. It looked like it was bursting, since I was too tired to properly organized my gear. I just jammed it all in. Then I waited for the other four from my slower climbing group, while icing my knees in the snow and eating a Luna bar and dried mangos.
Finally, the other climbers arrived, and we packed up and headed down to Horse Camp. My Indian friends and I got off the main trail to Horse Camp, but we eventually got to it. They hadn't had much experience with snow---India doesn't have much snow, so I taught them about the dangers of getting too close to boulders as we approached many large boulders just melting through the snow. A climber can slip between the boulder and snow pack. It can be like falling into a crevasse, if you're terribly unlucky.
We rested at Horse Camp, and I used the last blanket of snow to make an ice pack for my knee that was screaming in pain. Once my tent mate appeared and got a snack and some water, we headed to the cars. We finally got to my truck at 5:30 pm. Apparently, I didn't have time for a nap.
We had hiked 15 hours on summit day! 100% of the 16 climbers in our group made it to the summit on a mountain where only 1/3 of the attempts are successful. Our Shasta Mountain Guides that REI had hired had fiercely scheduled us for success. They pushed us hard and made us uncomfortable, but made our dream of summitting Mt. Shasta come true.
Even though we were exhausted, we were insatiably hungry and had to find a restaurant after we returned our rentals in the drop box at the Fifth Season. Fortunately, Shasta City is used to dirty, tired climbers walking in to restaurants. We did change our clothes, but we did just return after three days of not showering and the shower had a lower priority to our hunger issue.
My vegetarian climbing friends were used to me eating meat by then, so I got a steak, potato, and beer, even though I normally drink Cabernet. My body just wanted a beer!
After dinner I gave all my new friends a copy of my memoir, "The Romance of Kilimanjaro." They were ready to climb that mountain now and may want some training tips and a better understanding of what to expect when climbing that mountain. As all mountain climbers know, once one mountain has been checked off the summitting list, another mountain needing to be climbed is right below it. Mountain climbing is highly addictive.
P.S. To my blog readers: If you want to support a struggling math/engineering teacher and author, please buy my first book, "The Romance of Kilimanjaro," soon to be followed by my second book at: https://www.tatepublishing.com/bookstore/book.php?w=9781613464960 Thank You!
Monday, July 2, 2012
Yona and My Song
Yona blesses me with so much love. Here is our beautiful song: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jYNCnLTnzys
P.S. To my blog readers: If you want to support a struggling math/engineering teacher and author, please buy my first book, "The Romance of Kilimanjaro," soon to be followed by my second book at: https://www.tatepublishing.com/bookstore/book.php?w=9781613464960 Thank You!
P.S. To my blog readers: If you want to support a struggling math/engineering teacher and author, please buy my first book, "The Romance of Kilimanjaro," soon to be followed by my second book at: https://www.tatepublishing.com/bookstore/book.php?w=9781613464960 Thank You!
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