The Avalanche Gulch Story
by Steve Lewis, author of Climbing Mt. Shasta

This article (edited version) was featured in the 1997
summer issue of the Siskiyou County Scene.

Majestic Mt. Shasta seems to have a memorable impact on everyone who comes within sight of the massive, snow-capped volcano. The Mountain inspires thoughts of walking through luscious meadows, hiking on alpine trails, or climbing the summit to experience breathtaking views. Located in northern California and part of the Cascade Range, this magnificent mountain is situated in the largest chain of volcanoes in the world called the Pacific Ring of Fire.

Climbing a beautiful majestic volcano like Mt. Shasta will test your endurance beyond imagination. An average of 20,000 Wilderness (Visitors) permits that are filled out annually, with more than 15,000 of these people having attempted to reach the Mountain's summit; only a third make it. Some people assume the Mountain can be climbed in one day and it is possible; however, being in good physical shape and having already become accustomed to high altitudes is a must. One-day climbs average about 15 hours with most of the time for the ascent. If you're not then you should take two days and establish a base camp.

Climb with me on this cold morning in May while we travel the Avalanche Gulch route. On Friday, May 10, I left the Bunny Flat trailhead at 5:30 a.m. loaded down with a 65-pound pack after only four hours of sleep. The last of the stars were fading away as daylight was slowly approaching. My headlamp was strapped to my head and my crampons were fastened to my boots. The temperature was in the 20s with a slight breeze in the air. The scent that went past my nose was the refreshing smell of the spring time snow.

The first section of my trip was to hike 1.7 miles through some of Shasta's pristine timber to an area called Horse Camp. After hiking for about an hour, I arrived at Horse Camp, threw off my pack and relaxed on the Sierra Club Foundation's Cabin which was buried under 20 feet of snow. While resting, I heard the hammering of a noisy white-headed woodpecker who was greeting the morning daylight. The next section of my hike would take me to Helen Lake, elevation 10,443 feet; this is where I would establish my base camp. After continuing along the route for about an hour, I watched the morning sun shine its first rays on the north side of Avalanche Gulch. I was getting hungry and my shoulders were starting to become sore. I threw off my pack, pulled out my chair which (an orange plastic bag) and began searching my pack for something to fill my stomach. I unzipped my top compartment of my pack and pulled out my breakfast. Oh boy, smashed cinnamon rolls! Having no orange juice, I washed down my breakfast with some slushy water from my jug.

Continuing on, I looked up at the rocky jagged rocks on Casaval Ridge where I could see the sun's rays glaring off the snow, exposing two early morning climbers. The sun was also starting to shine on the south side of the Climbers Gully where I was at. I kept watching Shastarama Point on Sargents Ridge, as it seemed to become bigger and more prominent the closer I got. The sun shone brighter as I ascended further up the Gully. The retinas in my eyes felt like they were burning so I stopped to put on my glacier glasses. With my eyes darkened for a split second, I felt the presence of another being; at the same time I noticed a climber slowly approaching behind me.

Together we walked and talked, with more talking than walking, as we hiked toward the end of the Climbers Gully. The sun kept creeping up the Mountain and the morning chill was slowly fading away. About that time the stranger said, "looks like the wind isn't going to blow" a big gust of cold air accelerated down the Gully. Burr!!!! There was no set direction for the wind; it seemed to always blow in the direction we were facing. Reaching the end of the Gully, we did less talking and more breathing as the altitude started taking its toll on our lungs.

Finally about 10:00 a.m. we made it to Helen Lake (base camp) elevation 10,443 feet. The sky was bright blue except for a little haze to the south. I felt the cool winds blowing across the snowfield while also watching it blow a few puffy clouds that had just formed. My new partner continued up the Red Banks while I set up my camp and relaxed.

On Saturday, May 11, about 6:00 a.m., I a.m. out of my tent, crampons on my boots, and ice axe in hand, ready to climb to the summit. The dawn was breaking and the winds are calm with temperatures well below the freezing mark. Although I have been to the summit many times, I still get excited every time I set out. The hardest part of the trip lay ahead of me, climbing to the top of the Red Banks and then to the base of Misery Hill, with a steady uphill climb gaining almost 3,000 feet in elevation.

When I reached the top of the Red Banks, I came face to face with blustery winds which seemed to be blowing about 50 miles an hour, producing a below-zero chill factor. Hungry and cold, I found a wind sheltered rock below Misery Hill where I ate my breakfast. My drinking water was almost completely frozen and the cinnamon rolls were flattened. Even with the cold wind, the sun was shining brightly over the horizon, giving me a feeling as though I was on top of the world.

Feeling good, strong, and rested (about 8:30 a.m.), I continued up Misery Hill to an elevation of 13,400 feet. The name Misery Hill sounds extremely harsh, unless you've ever climbed it; climbing this hill takes about 45 minutes and was not physically demanding except for the altitude gain that was playing drum-rolls inside my lungs. My next stop was the Summit Plateau. When I first stepped foot on this windswept Plateau, it seemed to resemble a sea of snow sitting at an elevation of 13,800 feet. Strangely, the wind quit blowing as though someone flipped a switch to the off position. The view here is spectacular. Mt. Shasta has eight glaciers climbing to its slopes. To the west is Whitney Glacier, the longest and largest in California which can be seen winding down Shastina's eastern slope. Shastina rises 12,330 feet in elevation, and could be called a mountain of its own since it has its own summit. Looking to the distant west is a tremendous view of the Trinity Alps along with California's Coastal Range in the background.

As I looked ahead, I saw two rocky pinnacles that appeared to be glazed in ice. A long time ago the pinnacle to the left was known as McLean's Peak, but today it is referred to as the "False Summit," and is sometimes climbed by those mistaking it for the true summit. The pinnacle to the right was at one time called Muir Peak, after John Muir, and is indeed Shasta's true summit.

Nestled in a wind-protected area between the two pinnacles are the famous Sulphur Springs. Famous because the well-known author and naturalist John Muir once spent the night there. John Muir and his partner Jerome Fay, a hardy and competent mountaineer, were caught on the summit in a fierce early summer snow storm in 1877. With howling winds and darkness upon them, Muir concluded the only way to stay alive, without descending, was to lie in the hot pockets of mud and gravel. They had managed to survive for 17 hours until the storm subsided.

The last trek to the summit is a strenuous climb of 300 feet, passing by the smelly Sulphur Springs to the Mountain's top. The odor of the sulphur reminded me that the Mountain is still alive. It's 10:00 a.m., and after a lot of huffing and puffing, I finally made it to the summit. The wind is calm and there were only a few puffy clouds floating by. I must be the first one up here; it's time to relax and enjoy the view.

Follow me to the north end of the Summit pinnacle where there are some superb views of Shasta's second largest glacier, the Hotlum glacier. Bolam glacier, the third largest glacier, is also visible. In the distant, Interstate 5 passes though the towns of Weed and Yreka heading in an almost straight line on its way to Oregon. To the northeast, Highway 97 can be seen winding through Mt. Shasta's lava flows, Grass Lake, and Butte Valley on its way to the Oregon border. Some of the Cascade volcanoes in Oregon are showing their snowcapped tops.

After spending an hour on the summit, it was time to head down the Mountain. I felt like a judge and jury have sentenced me to exile. I didn't want to leave but I knew the snow was starting to soften which would make for an excellent glissade. "To Glissade" means the act of sliding down a slope of snow or ice. This is the liveliest and quickest way to descend. One hour later, after a quick and exhilarating ride on my behind, I arrived back at my tent which was more than a welcome sight in the midday sun. My shorts are ripped and my rear end is wet and cold. My face felt as though it has been in a microwave oven due to the pulsating sun and fierce winds which have been pounding me for the last five hours. Hunger pains have taken control of my body, and my tongue is starving for something wet besides snow. My head was pounding from the heat and altitude; however, I also felt rewarded that I had made another successful ascent to the summit and returned safely to base camp.

It's 2:00 p.m., I just finished a hot lunch, packed my gear, and made ready to head off the Mountain. Trekking down the Mountain reminded me about how much I love mountaineering. I arrived back at the Bunny Flat parking lot at 4:00 p.m. and looked up at the Mountain realizing that I did not conquer the Mountain, but I did feel victorious for, once again, standing on the second tallest volcano in the United States.

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