Mt Shasta (14,162 feet)

19-21 June, 2015

Mount Shasta is part of the Cascade Mountain Range, located in Siskiyou County in
Northern California about 45 miles from the Oregon border. Mount Shasta is the cone of an
extinct volcano rising to a height of over 14,162 feet above sea level, and is one of the largest
volcanic peaks in the continental United States.
The first two times we climbed Mt Shasta we allowed for three days. One travel day and
two days on the mountain. We were not allowing enough time for such a big climb that was 6
hours away. This year we wanted to allow enough time to climb with some recovery afterwards.
So the plan was for one day to travel to the mountain, three days on the mountain, and one day to
travel home.
Two years ago we attempted to climb the Avalanche Gulch route but was unsuccessful
when we both came down with Acute Mountain Sickness (Altitude sickness) at our 10,000 foot
base camp. The following year, July 2014, we attempted the Clear Creek route on the south-east
side of the mountain, but retreated back down after reaching 13,000 feet after Dani started
feeling uneasy with the terrain, and possible rock falls due to the lack of snow on Mt Shasta that
previous winter. Dani wanted to go back up Avalanche Gulch this year; she felt more
comfortable with this route, as long as it was covered with snow. The mountain is much easier
to climb with snow using ice an ax and crampons. If not, than you have to deal with scree (lose
volcanic rock and dirt) and rock falls.
DAY 1 (July 19, 2015)
We packed up and began our 7 hour journey south to the Bunny Flat trailhead. In 2013
we stayed at a hotel in Shasta City the first night, but this year we wanted to camp at the 7000
foot trailhead to help us acclimate to the elevation slowly since there is a 3,160 foot elevation
difference. Upon arriving at the trailhead we notice an alarming number of vehicles in the
parking lot and realized we will definitely not be the only ones on the mountain. We ended up
sleeping in the back of the pick-up truck in the parking lot for the night.
DAY 2 (July 20, 2015)
I woke up to beautiful weather and a strong ambition to get going. Dani managed to
squeeze in a little more sleep time before crawling out. We estimated that it would take about 7
hours for us to climb from the trailhead to our high camp at Helen Lake (which is really not a
lake, just a level plateau at 10,000 feet making it a good location for camp). It took 8 hours two
years before but we feel we were moving a little slower then because we were on snow from the
start. This year the snow level was around the 9,000 foot level.

We ate breakfast, filled out the wilderness permit and the $25 summit permit. The
summit is required for anyone going above 10,000 feet on the mountain; it was $20 last
yearinflation I guess. We crossed the LD line (line of departure in Army terms) around 8:30
and our first stop will be Horse Camp.
Horse Camp is a property on Mount Shasta owned by the nonprofit Sierra Club
Foundation. The most notable feature of Horse Camp is the Shasta Alpine Lodge, a climber's
hut constructed in 1923. Mostly indigenous materials were used for construction, including
volcanic rock and Shasta red fir. The lodge can be used for emergency shelter for climbers. A
caretaker is usually present during the summer months. Im not sure if one was present when we
were there. There were many hikers at the lodge as it is a beautiful hike and destination for a
short walk. There is a fresh water spring there that most climbers, and many hikers stop there for
on the way up the mountain. The first caretaker (1923-1934) was Joseph Macatee "Mac"
Olberman. With the help of volunteers, Olberman built a 950 yard long flagstone paved path
leading uphill from Horse Camp to facilitate access to the Avalanche Gulch climbing route. This
structure still exists and is known as Olberman's Causeway.
We arrived at Horse camp a little over an hour. After filling our water bottles, hitting the
solar power outhouse, and chatting with a fellow climber, we headed up the Olberman's
Causeway. The causeway was not visible the last time we were here because it was under a
couple of feet of snow. The causeway (basically a stone path) really added to the beauty of the
already awesome landscape.
It took us close to 7 hours before we reached our 10,000 foot base camp. The Helen Lake
plateau was pretty crowded by the time we got there. There must have been 30 climbers camped
up there from all over the country. I failed to pack a snow shovel to level a spot for us to set us
our tent (I didnt think we would need it), so we waited for a couple who were packing up and
claimed the, already-dug-out, real estate. We set up our tent, ate some dinner and was ready for
sleep by 6 PM.
The climbing rangers were up there checking on summit permits and wilderness passes.
Im not sure what theyd do if you fail to get one, but we always insure we have all the permits
required. There are climbing rangers who climb the mountain every weekend throughout the
climbing season checking on permits and enforcing rules and regulations. They are also insuring
that everyone is taking good safety measures. Over 10,000 feet, everyone is required to have a
set of crampons, an ice ax and a helmet.
They harped on safety with everyone in the area and mentioned about a recent accident
involving glissading. Glissading is a form of descending the mountain by sliding down on your
butt or feet using your ice ax to control your speed. You must remove your crampons before you
glissade or you could catch them in the snow or ice and injure yourself. The recent incident
involved a young woman who was glissading without removing her crampons and caught both of
them in the snow, braking both of her ankles. She needed to be airlifted off the mountain.
After our short but informative conversation with the rangers, we set the alarm for 3 AM and
went to sleep.
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DAY 3 (June 20th, 2015)

I woke up when my alarm went off. I could hear climbers gathering their gear together
since 2 AM. When that happens, I feel like Ive over slept. If Im not the first one up in the
morning, I feel that I have already gotten off to a late start. Dani, on the other hand, is always
ready to be the last one up. It really takes some effort to get her up and out of the nice warm
sleeping bag into the cold mountain air and put on icy boots that take an hour to warm up. They
really dont warm up until you start climbing. To really enjoy this sport, you really need to enjoy
getting out of your comfort zone; whether its pinned up against the side of a steep snow slope,
or getting out of the warm sleeping bag and tent into blowing ice and snow in the wee hours of
the morning.
So I finally got Dani to wake up, but just enough for her to tell me she was not feeling
well. When we were up in this exact same spot two years earlier, we both were not feeling well
from the altitude. Last year we climbed the south-east side of the mountain and set up our base
camp at 7,500 feet instead of 10,000. We made it to 13,000 feet and neither one of us felt sick. I
would say, a quarter of the 30 or so climbers who took on the mountain from this 10,000 foot
camp end up feeling too ill to climb. A few of the ones who were able to get up and start the
accent, ended up coming down early, not making the summit. A group of teenagers were
camped right next to us, which gave me a little more motivation to get up (before them) and
summit this mountain. If those teeny boppers can summit this 14,000 foot mountain, then so
can I. Although they have youth on their side as far as physical ability, most teenagers do not
have the intestinal fortitude to push themselves beyond their limits. Theyre also the ones I
heard at 2 AM. I managed to get started about 45 minutes after they did.
Since Dani was feeling sick and had a headache, I told her to stay in the tent while I
summited. She did not mind, being our third time there, she did not want to hold me back again.
So I began my accent around 4:30 AM heading straight up Avalanche Gulch, through the
Heart towards Red banks (a rock outcropping at the top of the first leg of the climb). Once
you reach the top of the Heart, there are several gullies that funnel through the rocks taking you
to the top of Red Banks and onto Misery Hill. I opted for the route that seemed to be the
common choke point that most of the climbers were using. It wasnt the easiest one though. It
gets steeper towards the top of the snow shoot. The climbing rangers were creeping up on me as
I entered Red Banks and began to pass me by as I worked my way through the shoots. They
caught up as I was working the steepest part, which is the crux of the entire route. I was really
hoping they would not ask me, or was smart enough to not ask me for me summit pass. They
recognized me as showing it the night before, greeted me and continued on past.
I reached the top of Red Bank in about two hours and the sun was coming up over the
eastern horizon. It was a beautiful sunny morning. The sunrise on the mountain always boosts
your morale, especially when you have been climbing most of the night in the cold air.
After you top out onto Red Bank, the slop works its way to the left of Thumb Rock and
onto Misery Hill. This is where the wind really picked up. Once I reached this point, the 70+
MPH wind did not let up until I descended back below Red Banks but was strangely calm right
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at the summit. I somehow linked up with three climbers from Washington State (John, Paul and
Eric) and we found an area out of the wind for lunch. After they offered me a peanut butter and
jelly sandwichhow could I resist?
The four of us continued up Misery Hill (properly named) and arrived at the summit
ridge around 1130. I decided to break away from them and take another break to take in the
awesome view. I could help but feel the adrenaline and dopamine rushing through my body,
giving me the self-satisfaction of my accomplishment so far. As I sat there admiring the view, I
started to go through my thoughts as to why I am here right now.
As a young adventurous man, I started climbing at the age of 18 while I was stationed in
Alaska at Ft Richardson. The Chugach Mountain Range was right in the backyard of Anchorage
and the ruggedness and beauty of these mountains drew me in. I could see this range from my
barracks window, and I would sit for hours gazing at them. I also began to read true
mountaineering stories. The very first book I read was Minus 148; a chronicle of the very first
winter ascent of North Americas highest peakMt McKinley. After reading this book, I was
hooked. I knew that mountaineering was what I wanted to do.
Once I left Alaska, I really did not climb much. I focused more on skiing and even made
the all Army cross-country ski team. Being in the Army allowed me to ski all over the world,
from the Chilean Andes, to the French Alps, to the Italian Dolomites. I didnt pick up another
ice ax until I retired from the Army some 26 years later. The motivation was I dated a woman
who showed an interest in climbing with me. Well, we fell in love, got married, and now we
spend a greater part of our life together in the wilderness in one aspect or another. So, now at 54,
I am climbing again, even more so than I did at 20. Why do I do it now? That is a good
question.
All mountaineers have their reason for putting themselves through all the pain and agony
for such a dangerous activity. Many people question the logic of climbing dangerous mountains.
"You're an idiot for risking your life for an egotistical pursuit." For me, the mountains bring me
joy, fear, happiness, courage, excitement, exercise and exhaustion. Climbing and skiing were
my chosen pathways to growth and self-refinement-my calling, based on passion, not logic. Just
the sight of an elegant snow ridge would raise familiar emotions: excitement and anxiety, joy and
fear. Finding the courage to act under duress is among the toughest things most of us will ever
face. Like the crux of a climb (the toughest section), the hardest and scariest moments of lifes
harsh challenges are often fleeting, and are soon followed by less difficult times. Just like the
tough challenges in life, summiting a mountain brings me a sense of accomplishment and selfreliant that one feels after completing such an exhausting task. Jon Krakauer, in his Into Thin
Air, a book on another ultimately tragic mountaineering expedition, mused that the point of an
Everest expedition was enduring pain. And in subjecting ourselves to week after week of toil,
tedium, and suffering, it struck me that most of us were probably seeking, above all else,
something like a state of grace. This, I think, sounds like a more plausible explanation for the
popularity of such expeditions than the traditional critics pose that mountaineers are just thrillseekers and idiots who get what they deserve when they die suddenly and horribly.
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For Danielle, summiting is not as important as it is for me. When I have a goal, and the reason
Im there is to accomplish that goal, then that is where I set my sights on. Mountain climbing is
the toughest, most physically and emotionally challenging of all sports. You will soon discover
yourself. With such a physically and mentally draining sport, most of life's challenges seem
insignificant. Just like the climb after the crux, knowing that the future will inevitably become
easier than the momentary crux can serve as an anchor with which you can draw yourself
forward. Sometimes, after a very tough climb, or traverse, I look back at what I did that took
every bit of physical and mental energy I hadand I feel invincible.
"If you cannot understand that there is something in man which responds to the
challenge of this mountain and goes out to meet it, that the struggle is the struggle
of life itself upward and forever upward, then you won't see why we go. What we
get from this adventure is sheer joy."
-George Leigh Mallory
After my break, I continued up toward the summit. As I approached a group of climbers,
including the two climbing rangers, I could hear them talk about recent fatality on the mountain.
Last week a climber, Michael Murphy, 57, from the bay area, was ascending Avalanche Gulch
when he somehow snagged his crampons on something, causing him to start sliding back down.
He evidently was not schooled on how to use his ice ax to self arrest his fall. Self-arresting is the
act of planting the pick of your ice axe into the snow to arrest a fall in the event of a slip. He was
unable to control his fall and fell over 2,000 feet over Red Banks. Although the first people on
the scene included three climbers who were off duty Shasta County firemen, and two climbers
who were emergency room doctors from San Mateo, there was nothing they could do and
unfortunately, he succumbed to his injuries by the time Life-Flight arrived.
This is only the second fatality I know of on My Shasta. Upon my research of Mt Shasta
(I always research accidents on any mountain I am going to climb), the only other climber to die
was Tom Bennett of the bay area. Bennett, a chemical engineer from Berkeley, was climbing
with long time climbing partner Mark Thomas, a structural engineer from Berkeley, when a
fierce storm hit them while they were near the summit with over 100 MPH winds. They dug a
snow cave for the night just below the summit ridge and figured they would climb down the next
morning. By morning, the two men gathered their things, and as Bennett put on his crampons,
he told Thomas his balance was off. Then he complained of fading eyesight. Bennett started to
fear that he couldn't make it down. Thomas tied himself to his partner with a short rope to help
Bennett descend. They moved slowly. Thomas felt the winds pick up and blow the two men off
course. They tried moving along on their knees. Thomas was convinced that Bennett suffered
from acute altitude sickness, also known as high altitude cerebral edema, during the night.
Bennett became unresponsive and Thomas administered CPR. Thomas set aside the rations for
Bennett in case he woke up. Thomas marked the spot with a black avalanche marker and headed
down the mountain alone to search for help. Thomas descended down the mountain, without
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food or water, and ended up building another snow cave for the night. By the time rescuers
reached Bennett, five days would pass and Bennett would be dead. Thomas barely made it out
alive himself.
After learning of the fatality, I paused for a few moments of silence for the deceased, and
continued climbing up the summit ridge to the summit.
After seven hours of continuous climbing, I finally reached the summit around 11:30
AM. The three climbers I trailed along with were just on their way down. The wind on Misery
Hill and the summit ridge were up to 70-75 MPH, and very cold, but the weather was
surprisingly pleasant on top of the summit. So I relaxed for about 30 minutes and let my face
thaw out a bit before heading back down. I chatted with a gentleman who was getting ready to
ski down the north side of the mountain. He mentioned that he used to patrol the Mt Shasta Ski
Area a few years ago and now lives in South Lake Tahoe. While we chatted, two young college
girls had summited with snow boards. They greeted us then headed down right awayOh to
be that young again. I needed my 30 minute rest before I had enough energy to climb back
down to base camp. I was exhausted, and my back was in excruciating pain. It's always good to
get a little rest before descending. Most accidents happen on the way down because many
climbers use up all their energy getting to the top and leave no reserve. As the American
Himalayan alpine climber, Ed Viesturs, once said, getting to the top is an option, getting down
is mandatory.
The gentlemen donned his skis and headed down. I left the summit soon after. I took my
time climbing down since we planned to camp at base camp tonight; this way we would avoid
having to pack up and hike back down to the car after already climbing since 4:30 AM. Also,
once I reached an area near the top of Red Banks, I planned on glissading the rest of the way to
base camp.
I could see a team of climbers off in the distance who were on the way up, but, besides
them, I was the only one left on the mountain by the time I started descending. With my back
pain, I usually have to climb a little slower than others. When I was younger, it was a race with
me. I had to be the first one up the mountain; now, not so much anymore.
I reached the point where I could begin my glissade descent. I took off my crampons and
put them in my pack. Even though the climbing rangers told everyone not to begin glissading
above Red Banks, I had to. Coming down the shoot through the rocks would be awesome...kind
of like riding a rollercoaster.
I looked over the cliff to ensure that no climbers were below. I went back up, sat down,
lifted my feet, and off I went. I shot through the Red Banks snow shoot like a cannon ball and
continued on down Avalanche Gulch. It seemed like I was hauling ass, but in reality, I got up
to 20-25 MPH. But that is pretty damn fast just sitting on your butt. It was the best part of the
climb, and funniest. I managed to glissade all the way to base camp. I got up, dusted the snow
off me, and walked over to the tent where Dani was watching me from. Of course, I called her
on the radio before I started, just to be sure she was watching.
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After returning to camp, we sat down to relax, watch the other climbers moving about,
and to relax. The Helen Lake base camp is kind of a small area; therefore, when there are a large
number of climbers on the mountain, the tents are relatively close together. There was a family
next to us with a father and mother who were teaching their teenage sons how to use their ice ax
and how to self arrest. They decided not to climb any higher. The mother told us they didnt
think the kids were ready.
We camped there for the night. All the climbers who summited that day were gone, and
new climbers were marching in and setting up camp.
DAY 4 (June 21st, 2015)
Sunday was our sleep-in day. Of course, the climbers who had just arrived were up at 3
AM getting gear together and heading up the mountain. Once they left, we went back to sleep.
By the time we crawled out of the tent, some of the climbers were already coming back down.
Either they turned around early, or they left earlier, submitted early, and got back to base camp
early...my preference.
Around 12:00, climbers started to return from the summit. Two climbers who were
camped nearby came back to find their tent gone. Everybody was baffled by their missing tent,
and everything in it. We could not see it anywhere, including down the mountain. It must have
blown away during the day. But the winds were not that strong on Sunday, and someone would
have noticed it being blown away. Im not sure what those climbers did, but I know they never
found it. I thought we did pretty good staking down our tent, but now I feel we need to do more.
Collapsing the poles when you depart for the summit is always a good idea too. I cant imagine
coming back and finding nothing there but a snow platform. If we were a couple of days or more
from the trailhead, we would be in trouble.
We eventually packed up everything and headed down the mountain. The snow was
pretty soft this late in the day, and the first leg of the down climb was a bit steep, so we decided
to give glissading a go at it. It's a little harder with full packs on. They tend to get in the way.
So instead of putting our bed-rolls underneath, we strapped them to the sides of our packs. This
gave us a little more room. We were able to glissade just about all the way down the first slop.
We had to share the trail (what I call the slug trail made by someone glissading) with other
climbers descending. Dani kept losing the gear off her pack...mainly water bottles so we would
stop on the way down and gather it up for her. Once we got to the bottom of the slop, we
rucked up and started walking through the snow down the mountain.
We eventually descended below the snow line in an area where the trail is rocky and
steep. I was descending the rocky trail using my ski poles to help keep my balance when, at one
point, I had most of my body weight on the pole and it dislodged a rock which in turn flipped me
over head-first down the rocky slope. I tumbled head-over heel two or three times before
slamming into Dani (who was below me). Although I was lucky I hit her since she was the only
thing that kept me from continuing off the cliff, the impact almost knocked her off. During my
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fall, my hand slammed her in her face, breaking the other lenses of her sunglasses, and giving her
a black eye.
I laid there for a moment, as we were both in shock, and I was in pain. I was lucky
enough not to hit my head on a rock, but I did slam my knee pretty hard and it began to swell
almost immediately. I was in so much pain, I was afraid I may not be able to walk back to the
trailhead on my own. After laying there a few minutes moaning and groaning from the pain, I
managed to get to my feet, gather my gear, and slowly limp back down the trail.
We arrived back at Horse Camp and took a badly needed break. We filled our water
bottles, chatted with a couple of climbers who had just come down off the mountain too; they
were camped near us at Helen Lake, and completed the last 1.8 miles back to the trailhead.
The truck is always a beautiful sight. It means rest and extra food waiting to be consumed. We
stayed in Shasta City for the night and made the seven hour drive back home the next day.
Mission complete...
Mileage and elevation gain
Bunny Flats to Horse Camp-

1.8 miles / 6950-8000 feet (1,050 feet gain)

Horse Camp to Helen Lake-

1.66 miles 8,000-10,400 feet (2,400 feet gain)

Red Banks to Summit-

.76 mile 12,500 to 14, 179 feet (1,679 feet gain)

Total distance-

5.22 miles one way (7,229 feet elevation gain)

Mike & Dani

MT. SHASTA CLIMB

June 2015

Avalanche Gulch Route

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