On Top of the World

I've been thinking a lot about the stuff I haven't done for a while...like hiking and camping and climbing mountains. Climbing mountains and hiking can be hard work, but what one learns by exploring the earth is so amazing.

In college I climbed Mount Lassen with a group of friends; my two roomates Diane and Amy, my biologist/ranger boyfriend, Jerry, and a young couple, Doug and Karen. Doug packed their one month old daughter in a carrier. We questioned the wisdom of that decision but they thought it would be something cool for the Baby Book. OK. The climb was doable, the baby survived and the view was impressive. We all felt a sense of accomplishment and the baby had an unusual picture. http://www.skimountaineer.com/CascadeSki/CascadeSki.php?name=Lassen

Almost everyone I knew had climbed Lassen so when a friend, Gordon ( laidback, mechanical engineer, ecologist, adventurer) suggested to my muscial partner, Jesse, and I that we join him on a trek up Shasta I decided I was up for a true challenge. Gordon said he'd climbed Mt. Shasta three times and it was easy. Hmm. He wanted to climb the Southwest side.



Gordon was insistent that we camp at Helen Lake Base Camp so we could acclimate to the altitude. O.K. What you can't see in the picture is what people are looking at...the "Bowling Alley"...a wide, high, snowy mountain face from which bowling ball size boulders break free and bounce randomly down only to be stopped by Helen Lake. Gordon showed us where to set up camp early and then we explored and discussed how most of the people killed on the mountain that year had been hit by boulders and one guy got blown off the Red Banks while he was doing his business. When we returned to camp, we discovered we were unfortunately set-up on the avalanche side of the lake. It was too late to change the location so Jesse and I spent a sleepless night (Gordon snoring soundly all the while) questioning Gordon's competency and discussing possible mutiny and escape plans in case we heard the roar of an avalanche.

The next day we negotiated the "Bowling Alley" amidst loud calls of "Boulder!" and near misses. We ended up near the dreaded Red Banks where Gordon admitted he had kind of lost his way. After I acted as a mediator for the lively male discussion that followed, we got our bearings and found "the chimney". Using ice axes and campons, and breathing as best we could, we pulled ourselves up the chimney and over the icy volcanic lip. At that altitude we were very ready to rest on the summit's snow field. That's when Gordon began vomiting violently and admitted he had never made it to the summit because of altitude sickness. The snow field was the farthest he'd ever been able to come. After acting as a mediator for the lively male discussion that followed, and openly admitting I was also sicker than a dog, I sat down moaning next to Gordon and Jesse decided to forge onward to the peak. The oldest of the troupe, Jesse (a star athlete in H.S.) must have better lungs than we do because he had been bounding up the mountain like a gazelle the whole day and was never sick.

Jesse got to the highest peak in about 15 minutes and started hooting and whistling for me to come see the view. I forced myself to my feet with what felt like a 40 pound weight on my chest and the worst case of flu in history, stumbled across the snow field and crawled up the small 15 foot true peak. Now, I don't remember negotiating the 3 foot wide snow bridge to the crow's nest to sign the book, but Jesse swears I did sign it. I tell you, I'm just grateful Jess goaded me to stand on top of the world in that part of the globe and see the black sky above and hazy, surrealistic, baby blue Sierra mountain range laying 'round about. What a perspective!
http://www.climbingmtshasta.org/