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!
