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Weather. Unpredictable, uncontrollable weather. To an adventurer, Mother Nature, in her most capricious form, that is weather, determines success more than any other factor. In the summer of 2006, I got a chance to climb Mount Baker, only to be turned back a few hundred feet from the summit by white out conditions. No amount of conditioning, preparation or gear selection can overcome bad weather. As a climber, it literally comes with the territory. Climbers philosophically say the mountain only lets you summit when it’s ready. Many a tragedy has befallen climbers and other adventures who did not respect nature’s whimsical weather changes. This past summer I made a trip to Mount Shasta to climb my first 14’er. Rising 14,162 feet, this dormant volcano stands alone in Northern California's wilderness. Doing my homework, I studied maps and talked to the locals at the climbing shop in town. In good physical condition, I had just taken first place in my age group at a local Marine Challenge run, I was confident in making the summit. However, confidence quickly turned south as I unloaded my gear at the trail head. The summit was shrouded in dark and foreboding clouds. A steady stream of refugee’s in climbing gear tumbled into the parking lot. Packs and gear fell unceremoniously to the ground. The haggard and defeated looks told the story. Mother Nature today had determined Shasta was not to give up her summit. The storm raging higher up discouraged all would-be suitors. Then came the stories. Seventy mile an hour winds and white out conditions. One poor soul was literally blown off the mountain while still in his tent. My confidence gone, I looked up and prayed she’d be in a better mood when I got my chance.
Mounts Shasta shrouded in storm Up to base camp, I humped my gear to the climber’s hut maintained by the Sierra Club. The Sierra Club maintains a traditional European style stone cabin manned by a volunteer. I set up camp and then made my way over to the hut. The news was bad for those climbing today. A bad storm up top was raging and would not pass for another 24 hours. More refugees from the summit came through with harrowing tales of zero visibility and near frost bitten fingers. The cold rain punctuated the misery. In a cruel joke, in the Central Valley through which I had just traveled, the sun was hot and temperatures ran in the 100’s. Into a warm and dry bag I went to dream of summits yet climbed.
Sierra Club Climber's Hut The day broke crisp with cool winds and scattered dark clouds. The plan was to climb to Helen Lake at 10,000 feet to set up high camp. Stripped down to essentials, my gear still seemed to weigh a ton as I climbed up the summit trail. The original plan was to summit via the West Face Gully route. However, conditions on the mountain suggested this route my not be climbable due to weather conditions. The traditional Avalanche Gulch route was chosen as it gave the best chance of success. Humping my load to Helen Lake was a real grunter. Skies cleared and the temperature quickly warmed. The beautiful scenery missed as I trudged up the rocky trail then through and up the slush that passed for a snow field. The air thinned and only stubbornly gave the oxygen my aching muscles craved. On the way up, I past the mountain ranger coming down. A quick information exchange and we went our separate ways. No rescue help would be near but the weather was looking better. High camp at Helen Lake makes most rustic camps seem sumptuously adorned. The lake, if there is one, is frozen under a permanent ice field. High and exposed, it offered little protection but a small rocky outcropping upon which to pitch my small tent. But appearances are deceiving. With the improving weather, my high camp proved to be a climbers dream. Plenty of snow to melt for water, the views ran for hundreds of mile through azure blue skies. I was home and content. On the menu is one of my favorite camp creations: chicken curry with rice. Stomach filled, I found a comfortable rock to watch the sun set. Dusk brought a cool breeze. Packing light, it took all my layers to keep away the chill. High mountain air seems to sharpen the twinkling of stars to diamond like brilliance. But for the cold and a 3:00 a.m. start, I could have watched the sky for hours. I could see how our ancestors believed the gods and fates were home in this brilliant universe.
High camp at Helen Lake Coffee. Hot, rich coffee. Awakening to one thought and purpose, I lit the stove. Brought back to life by the dark brown elixir, I choked down some tasteless matter promising carbs. The late Moon rise illuminated the mountain and made for the perfect conditions to start. The mountain was looking favorably on this visitor. Weather is cool and clear. Crampons strapped on and ice ax ready, I shouldered my day pack and set out and up the ice field. The first section of the climb is up the steep face of Avalanche Gulch. This route passes the Heart and works up to the rock formation called the Red Banks. The area is exposed to falling rocks when the temperature warms and the day’s previous rock falls were strewn across the ice. Metal note, don’t be here in the afternoon. One foot in front of the other, the red banks were obtained. To get through, you must pass through one of the gullies eroded into the face. This morning, the gullies were paved with slick ice. One slip could shoot you out of the gully like you were shot from a cannon. Mental note, don’t slip. Front-pointing with the crampons and using the ice ax, I made good progress up the gully. Kick crampon points into the ice, then move the ice ax up and into the ice above. This move repeated up and through the red banks. View looking up Avalanche Gulch
The Red Banks Topping out at over 12,000 feet, the air grudging gives up its oxygen. A few other climbers who were topping out here gulped at the air to ketch their breath. Not a good sign with another two thousand feet to go. Up ahead lays misery hill. Aptly named, it is exposed and offers little but the promise of much effort. But today, the mountain was merciful. Light winds and good trail conditions made it a relatively easy walk up. Up and over misery hill brings you to the summit plateau.
Climber Coming Out of the Red Banks
Misery Hill
At 14,000, the plateau is the remains of the original volcanic crater which made this mountain. Long filled in with debris, its violent past is evidenced by the sulphur fumes escaping from active vents. John Muir is said to have waited out a severe storm up here using these hot vents to keep warm. The weather was bright, sunny and relatively warm. The mountain was indeed kind today. Looking over at the top of the glacier which makes the topping out point for the West Face Gully route, I could see a large crevasse had opened. Warming temperatures were causing large movements in the glacial ice flow. The crevasse made any attempt via the West Gully impossible.
Large Crevasse at the Top of the West Face Gully Route
Up and Over Misery Hill
On the Summit Plateau The summit at 14,162 feet is reached up an icy path to the rocky spire. Weather holding, the views were spectacular. Vista’s so vast you can see a hint of the curvature of the planet. Lassen to the South and other volcanic peaks to the north stood in silent testament to the violent geology below. Above, the sky takes on a deeper blue. The sun felt warm on my face as I gazed out at the beauty of it all. Moments like this are rare. You can understand why the native Americans considered such places as this as sacred ground.
Enjoying the View at !4,162 With the sun now getting higher in the sky, it was time to go. Climbing down hill into ever greater oxygenated air made the descent fast and easy. It was now getting to be mid-morning. It was also getting unusually warm. Not a good sign. At the Red Banks, front pointing to descend, the ice was wet and slippery. Mental note, slipping would be bad right now. Kick, kick then ice ax. Repeat. The descent through the gully was sketchy. Lathered in sweat from the warming weather and hard effort, I exited the gully to the steep ice of Avalanche Gulch. The crisp ice of the early morning had turned to slushy sun cups. The route was turning into a bowling ally. Rocks long held back by ice let go to fall on the unfortunate below. The mountain had played a cruel trick. The bright sunny day that made the ascent possible now caused the route below to become treacherous. Crashing rocks echoed across the ice. Speed is safety. Off came the crampons. On my backside, I glissaded down at unsafe speeds. My butt bruising with each hard packed bump and jump. Like a duck in a shooting gallery, you can only move fast and hope your time is not up. A thousand feet and a few crashes later, I made it back to Helen Lake. Mother Nature and her capricious weather. The day before, climbers were blown off the mountain by freezing white-out conditions. Today, unusually warm temperatures turned the descent into a game of mountain Russian roulette. You have to respect the mountain. Respect, preparation and the hope weather allows you a chance at a safe climb. Climb safe.
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