Mt. Shasta - July 1989

I remember first seeing Mount Shasta on a family trip when I was a kid. I thought about how great it would be to climb it, but it looked impossibly high and difficult. Then as a young adult, I began hearing stories of people climbing it and it began to sound like a possibility.

In July, 1989, I suggested doing the climb to my friend, Gerald, and he was up for it. We decided that our families could go along and camp while we climbed. So, one evening, we all squeezed into Gerald’s old Chevy Nova, and drove north. Besides Gerald and myself, there were Maureen, Aaron, Christopher, and Gerald’s sons, Nathan and Adriel. Late in the night, we stopped at Castle Crags and found a spot for our sleeping bags on the ground. In the morning, we found private campground at Lake Siskiyou, and set up camp. Then Gerald and I went into the town of Mt. Shasta and found a sporting goods store that rented ice axes and crampons. By late morning we were at the Bunny Flat trailhead, shouldered our packs and started up.

The first couple of miles were a gentle climb through open forest until we reached the Sierra Club hut at Horse Camp. Then we left the trees behind and began a long climb in loose volcanic rock, barren, lifeless and warm in the intense sun. Higher up, there were patches of snow becoming large snowfields. In late afternoon, we reached Lake Helen. There was no lake, just a ridge of moraine and a bowl of snow below a huge snowfield stretching up the mountain. Along the ridge were scattered campsites which were simply small flat areas surrounded by low rock walls. We settled into one just big enough for the two of us, rested while the rest of the campsites filled with other climbers and we watched a beautiful sunset.

Sierra Cllub hut at Horse Camp

On the way to Helen Lake

Our camp at Helen Lake

Sunset from Helen Lake

Soon after first light, we were up and climbing the snowfield with our crampons and ice axes. We really had no experience or training in their use, but knew the general idea of how to self-arrest in a fall. The snow was quite steep, but we felt relatively safe. It was a long climb of 2,500 feet before we reached Red Banks, several chutes between red rocks. From there, we faced Misery Hill, a big pile of loose scree. Finally, we were on a big snowfield that leveled out into a little valley between two  peaks. between the peaks was a barren wet area with steam rising and smelling of sulfur. Then it was up the right-hand peak, a couple hundred feet of steep rock and snow to the summit. It was cold and very windy so we didn't stay very long. The view was great, but not as dramatic as on a high Sierra peak, because there were no other high peaks around. I took photos in all directions, intending to make a panorama, but it later turned out to be not as interesting as others I have done.

Climbing snowfield above Helen Lake

View south from summit

Me at the summit

I remember having a feeling similar to the one I had on Mt. Ritter when I thought about how tired we were and what a long way down it was, 7,000 ft. below us. It was long, but we were able to glissade down a couple thousand feet from Red Banks, sliding on our butts and braking with our ice axes. My jeans were soaked, but it saved us a lot of steps and it didn’t take long to dry out. Then we picked up our packs and made the long hike back down the trail. In the early evening, back at camp with our families, we looked back at the distant mountain, feeling amazed that we had been on top of it earlier in the day.