Getting Blown Off Mt. Shasta
by Rod Coleman at rod@microage-reno.com

First, the official version:

Mt. Shasta Wilderness Avalanche and Climbing Advisory
CLIMBING ROUTE ADVISORY

Climbing Advisory, updated June 10th, 2002.

Synopsis: This past weekend was a doozy with cold temps, snowfall and full hurricane winds! A dozen tents were destroyed with one blowing downhill with an occupant inside! There was also one case of frostbite (wind chill well below 0F), and a rockfall injury resulting in a broken clavicle. Winds hit over 60 mph at Lake Helen and also in Hidden Valley. At times, crawling or rock hugging was the best mode of transport.

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Here's my version:

I'd spent weeks getting ready to climb Shasta. Hill climbs. Hill climbs with mountaineering boots. Hill climbs with full pack. Hill climbs with full pack AND mountaineering boots. I also of course made practice climbs with the other members of the team. There would be five of us. Kathy who had attempted once and failed because of pace and conditioning. This time she was in MUCH better condition. Last time she had beautiful weather. Such is life. Mike, her boyfriend, who had climbed lots of peaks in Europe when he was younger but had been away from climbing for a while. He was probably our least prepared for this type of hike.

John was our leader with ten attempts and five summits of Shasta. His summit rate was twice the average for this mountain. John doesn't look the type, but when he gets his climbing shorts on, you can see the experience. He has calves that look like Popeye's. He's the kind of hiker who just keeps going.

John had also invited a friend of his who was in good shape. His name is Ron and he'd been a Ranger in the Army. He was ultra gung ho and had once taken his two sons (7 and 9) up the face of El Capitan because he couldn't find a baby sitter. Well, you get the idea - never say die. Impressive guy.

Fortunately for us, he's now in his fifties and mellowed a bit. My guess is he'd also mellowed a bit in his workouts but still looked like he could beat the rest of us up the hill. And then there was me. No experience climbing. Not much experience with a pack. No snow camping experience. The only time I had used an ice axe or crampons was in the class a few weeks ago. On the other hand, I DO hike or walk 50 to 70 miles. I'm also into the technology and had just read Ray Jardine's book, "Beyond Backpacking". I even bought one of his packs and with no skis, I figured I should be able to keep up.

As it turns out, I actually got to lead most the way. John had me on the point. I found out from Kathy later on, John told her I needed 50 more pounds in my pack. What can I say, I get excited. That's how I do things. I like to get there. Anyway, I DID prepare. And not just my training. I also read much of "Freedom of the Hills" and the all of the two Shasta books. Then I cross correlated the equipment lists. I also built a collection of Shasta web links. I must have read 20 Shasta climb descriptions, many of them from people NOT summiting and why they didn't. But none of their stories were like this one.

And I didn't forget the weather. In general it looked good. But there WAS a slight chance of showers on Saturday and winds of 20 in town. The wind would be double that on the summit, but that's normal. Most of those pictures you see of people on tops of mountains are taken in the wind. A little wind didn't concern me.

When we got to the mountain, it was hot - 92 degrees and no wind at all. Everyone started with a single layer. In climbing mountains (and other hiking) you dress in layers so that you don't have to take extra clothing. Everything is cut big. As it gets colder, you add layers of different types for changing conditions.

Even when we got to the Sierra Club's cabin, which is the general staging area, it was still in the 80s. We made our first camp, had dinner and told stories. John and Ron had lots of them. I was talking to John about emergency ice caves and how those students on Rainer had collapsed theirs and died of exposure in 70 MPH winds a couple of weeks ago. He told me about a time a few years ago when a group of school kids near Shasta had a ll suffocated in a snow cave because their vent got plugged. I would remember that.

The next morning was much colder than I expected - 27 degrees. This would make the summit about 7 degrees. It had dropped over 20 degrees from the previous night. We were definitely getting a northern flow of air. The wind had picked up a bit too. I talked with John and he noted the forecast called for a little nasty stuff on Saturday but he figured it was OK. We weren't planning on a push to the summit until 2 AM Sunday morning. So we packed up and headed for our base camp at Helen Lake. It was at 10,400 feet.

We had to use crampons right away but the snow condition was good. By the afternoon it got a little mushy but not bad. The hike was great - blue skies and light breezes. But then we started seeing these wispy clouds streaming off the peak and then disappearing. There was definitely water in that highest layer of air. As the day wore on, the wispies increased and lowered. Not a good sign. Then there were the reports of wind. Soon, we began meeting climbers streaming off the mountain. They were coming down way to early to have made an attempt at the summit. Soon we found out why. Last night Helen Lake had experienced 40 MPH winds , gusting to 50.

One guy who only used stakes on his tent literally was blown off the mountain in the middle of the night. He went about 100 yards down the slope before he was stopped by some rocks. He could have been in MUCH worse condition. He needed stitches but was able to hike out with a Park Ranger. We took note. We would anchor from the high points on the tent to rocks buried under the snow as recommend at these altitudes.

The other reports were of even more concern. Climbers were being being blown off the hill before they even got up to Red Banks. Or indeed, even very far from the base camp. John told me "blown off" the hill is when the wind is so high it creates a white out condition from blowing snow where you can't even see your feet. Going on becomes dangerous. Above these cliffs called Red Banks is were you normally find the high winds on Shasta. There's a thousand foot climb called Misery Hill, not for it's steepness, but for it's wind. Here, being "blown off" is literally not being able to stand against the wind. This occurs at about 70 MPH and many have to turn back a t only 200 feet below the summit when they get to the most exposed part.

Many of these guys coming down weren't even going above base camp. Were they ALL wimps? It didn't look that bad to us. Most said were turning back because they had such a nasty night at Helen Lake and heard it was even worse on the summit. Apparently, seven out of maybe forty that tried DID summit that day but I didn't manage to talk to any of them.

Not withstanding the funny clouds on the peak, the weather began to improve. When we made camp at Helen Lake it was dead calm with sunshine. Had we lucked out? Had the winds come through early? It was stilla little cool for June. John and his friend were behind us because of their heavier packs and skis. Even Mike beat them to base camp. I got the idea Mike was doing much better than he thought he would. When John and Ron arrived it was so nice, they didn't even bother t o set up their tent.

We all had a late lunch then I went in Kathy's tent for a nap. I wasn't looking forward to getting up at 2:00 even if that was the best time to climb. I awoke to the strangest sound. It was the whistling of tent ropes. I looked out. It was five o'clock in the evening. The others were just finishing the high anchor lines on John's tent. They were just in time from the sound of the wind.

The skies were still blue, but the wind was howling. Then it got worse. I learned later on that several climbers weren't able to get their tents up that night. One even lost his tent altogether (Official report - a dozen). It just blew down the hill. Fortunately no one was in it this time. These guys bunked with other people. We got back in our respective tents, melted water for the climb and later had dinner. The winds kept up. We still had several hours before departure. We COULD get lucky.

But the winds got worse. When I went out to pee, I noticed it wasn't even hitting the ground. It just went over the hill and kept going. I wondered if I shouldn't have put on my climbing boots. I didn't have THAT much traction on the snow. I carefully walked back from the crest and got back in bed. Soon we were all asleep.

I was in a tent with Kathy and Mike, with Kathy in the middle. I was in John's tent the night before and had the middle spot. It was warm and Kathy decided THAT was a good idea. She invited me into her tent for our second night. It was a tight fit but we were all on friendly terms. Sardines are a good description.

I didn't sleep well that night but it wasn't the howling wind. You get used to that. It wasn't even the tight spoon with Kathy. That was kind of nice. It was the snow. Not long after sunset, it began to snow. At first we weren't sure if it was really snowing or just blowing snow off the peak. But later on it became a fine powder. We knew. It built up in drifts. Unlike John's Gortex tent, Kathy's was a three season model with vents at the top. It let in the "fine" snow. If we'd had wet snow, it wouldn't have come in at all. Soon we had a fine power all over the inside of the tent. It looked like sugar. Except that it melted as we moved around. The bags started getting wet.

But that wasn't the worse part. Snow began to drift and build against the walls of the tent. This small two man tent was becoming even smaller as the walls pushed in. It's a good thing none of us are big people. My butt was against this cold wall of snow all night.

My bag is an REI Sub Kilo and rated down to 20 degrees, but the compression destroys the effectiveness of down. It was not a good night for sleeping. Which is one reason I was really looking forward to getting up and climbing. Now you might thin

k I was crazy, but often when the snow starts, the wind dies down. And this was a north wind. The snow would be light. There was STILL a chance of summiting. No such luck. The snow was light all right, but the wind just kept getting worse. We all heard the alarm go off. Nobody said anything. Then the wind died down a little and I said, "Ahhh! Time to go" and acted like I was getting up. Just then the wind howled even louder. I guess it wasn't THAT funny. Nobody laughed.

We knew it was over. No summit for us. Mike and I braced ourselves against Kathy and used our butts to push the snow drifts back away from the walls of the tent. This helped a little. We went back to sleep. I was relieved in a way to have such a definitive set of conditions for our failure. It wasn't a "maybe" kind of thing. You CAN climb in wind if you rope up, but we had not planned on that kind of climb. We had no rope. Plus these winds were getting near limits even for ropes. And this was base camp! The summit was TOTALLY out of the question. The Park Ranger later told me it was gusting to over 80 MPH (official report said 60 MPH) and that it only got this bad once or twice a year. It had to be well OVER a hundred miles per hour on the summit.

I awoke to pressure on my back. It was quieter and totally dark. Was the wind dying down? It took me a minute to figure it out. The tent had collapsed. Actually the walls had just folded in like a fish's puckered mouth. The poles were still in a distorted arc. I remembered John's story. Fortunately, the vents in this tent were at the top. The air was still fresh but VERY cold. I pushed on the snow drift. It didn't move. I pushed a little higher up. It moved some. I pushed more. The noise of the wind got louder. Mike was pushing on his side. The wind was howling again.

Everybody was awake and I needed to pee. I verbalized my need. Nobody said anything. Nobody wanted the door zipper opened. Not even me. I rotated the double-zipper around to the top of the door. It was well above the snow now, but I would have made a snowy mess getting out and especially back in.

Time for the Zip lock bag. I tested it by blowing into it first - good bag, no leaks. This is a VERY important test. I had to straddled Mike and Kathy's legs to get enough head room in the tent to get the Zip lock bag low enough to fill. It actually worked better than I expected. I didn't even get my fingers wet. I zipped it up and slipped it out through the top of the door. It would be an ice cube in a few minutes. No, I never did find it to pack it out.

Anyway, back to sleep. Well, sort of half asleep. The next thing I remember was light on the peak of the tent. The snow had me squeezed against Kathy again. She later told me she could feel the wind buffet me from the tent wall. My ass was REAL cold. I whacked the top of the tent and got a little more room. But not enough to be comfortable.

"Shovel time", I said and dressed up - all four layers with Gortex jacket, rubber pants, Polar Tec hat, Thinsulate gloves, and of course goggles. I only had the liners from the climbing boots in the tent but they were almost as good as regular boots. They would have to do until I could dig out the shells. We had put lots of stuff under the fly of the tent and it was all in the drift. Fortunately we kept the water in the tent and I had some before I went out. It was weird. The fly created a protected area which was why the snow drifted there. Other than that it was hard pack snow and blue skies. The top of Shasta was under a swirling cloud that kept changing shapes. That's where the snow was coming from. And the wind. Right down the mountain.

It was hard to keep my balance but I got down on my knees and open the fly. Half the snow blew away and the rest I just had to kind of scoop up and the wind took it away. The head and the foot of the tent were a little more difficult, but I soon had all the snow cleared and was handing gear in to Mike and Kathy. That was a mistake. The snow on the gear melted and they started getting wet. I walked out to the crest of the hill. A group had roped up and I was amazed when they headed UP the hill. I later learned they came back in about 40 minutes. Not one person summited that day. I was told this guided group didn't get paid unless they at least made an attempt on the summit. It was a token attempt apparently.

I tried to check the temperature, but my wrist was too warm. And if I stuck it out in the wind, the watch got cold REAL fast but the damn thing only updates every minute or two. I got one reading at 9 degrees

but that was mostly wind chill and probably not all of that (official was below 0 degrees). It was cold enough that your finger tips went numb in only a few minutes. I kept pulling them back into the palm of my glove. It helped. Just then someone was behind me. It was Ron. "We can't get down that slope in this wind", he said. Did he know what I was thinking? I was wondering HOW to get down, not IF. For him it was WHEN and when was not now.

"Exposed" is how climbers refer to any situation in which if they screw up, they die. Usually by falling. Shasta is not normally an exposed climb. Well except for maybe a little at Red Banks and a few other rock or glacier approaches.

But the storm had changed all that. Under these conditions, if you missed a step going down ANY of these slopes, the wind could drive you down the mountain like a bat out of hell. You LITERALLY would be blown off the mountain. Self arrest would be even more critical in these conditions. This wind also made the hill "steeper" because you had to lean into it. The crampons had to engaged at a steeper angle. It's easier to slip on a steeper slope. This storm was making the whole mountain an "exposed" climb.

I went over to John's tent as Ron got in. He said we should wait a while and see if the winds died down. Ron agreed. Sounded good to me. My fingers were getting numb again. I needed to keep moving or get back in the tent. When I got back to Mike and Kathy, they were shaking. Mike only had Gortex pants. With no rubber gear, he was getting wet from melting snow. Kathy's sleeping bag was wet too. She had laid snowy gear on it. She at least had rubberized pants.

Mike and Kathy appeared miserable. I was just glad to get back in the tent. Such contrast. It was MUCH worse outside. At this point, I didn't want to leave. And once I relaxed, I realize Ron might be right. At some point, it could be TOO windy to even go DOWN the hill. I hadn't thought of that before. Damn. And this tent was quickly becoming less than a good shelter.

I told them what John and Ron said, but Mike wanted to talk to them directly. He geared up and crawled out under the fly. Kathy and I scooped snow out of the tent. I began packing up just to keep things dry. Mike came back and we all scramble to keep the snow out. The drifts were building again. As I zipped up the door I said, "Nasty out there, uh? You can see how those guys died on Rainer last week when they lost their tent". I was again referring to the news account I gave John the night before. Now it was more real. But it was the wrong thing to say.

Kathy started crying and Mike gave her a hug. I said, "Sorry. Bad topic I guess", but I didn't really think things were THAT bad. It was just an observation. It WAS that cold. Yes, we DID need to dry out the tent and keep it shoveled, but we could stay here for days if needed. For me being out on that slope was a bigger unknown. Plus there were 25 other people at this camp. And the Park Ranger had a REAL good tent. There were lots of options. This was not yet dangerous. Was hiking out? I wasn't sure. I would defer to John and Ron.

We sat there in silence. Doing nothing is no fun in such a situation. "When will the wind die down? What's the weather report?", Kathy asked. "Let's go find the Park Ranger", I suggested, "He has a radio". Anything to distract her. When we got to the Park Ranger's tent, he wouldn't unzip. We talked through the fabric. Now you might think this was rude, but I didn't blame him. His door faced straight into the wind. Snow would fill his tent in seconds. I suspected he had a back flap but it was deep in a drift of snow. He told us the storm was to continue through Monday. That was it. Now THAT I thought was rude. What about suggestions? Was it safe to descend?

Kathy went back to John's tent and I went to check on Mike. One extra person in John's tent was enough. Kathy was back in just a few minutes. She said, "We're going down". Someone told John the east slope was an easier way down. I went to check it out. It looked much better than the main approach as far as I could see, but what was below? How steep would it get? How low did we have to go before the wind died?

Other people were getting their gear together. I unzipped the door to John's tent just enough to talk over the wind. I ask John if leaving was a good idea. He said, "These guys need to get moving. We'll take it easy". He was right. Waiting was hell. It could get better, but it could also get worse. And it did. An hour after we left, the storm dropped lower and Helen Lake went into white out conditions. We watched it from below and got the reports later.

Getting the tents down was a pain, but packing up was fast. I think some of our gear got left in the snow. In those conditions, it's surprising how fast you get exhausted. By the time we were packed, I had trouble getting my crampons attached. I also couldn't see because my goggles iced up from breathing. John helped me.

Finally we had it all on our backs and headed east. Maybe the wind would die when we got below the crest. We started with long switchbacks which got steeper as we got used to the wind.

John and Ron had their skies sticking up and felt the gusts before we did. They would plant their ice axe and lay down flat on the snow to cut their profile. This "warning" gave the rest of us time to secure our position. We had to "dig in" every few feet. It was slow but steady. I followed John for about half way down the hill. The wind was still blowing almost as hard. I kept looking back to keep them in sight but the blowing snow was getting thicker. At one point Kathy fell but was in self arrest before her ass hit the snow. Mike told me she only slid a few feet. I was impressed. No one else fell but Mike said he felt like it. He said he had an extra 15 pounds of snow in his pack from the tent and was dead tired. For me the worst part was the sting of the ice chunks hitting my legs. Each one felt like a bee sting.

John had the lead, Ron brought up the tail. Us newbies were in the middle. We worked our way down the hill. One step at a time. That's how we got down. After a while our confidence in our footing improved. The wind died down just a little. Once things mellowed out John told me to take the lead. I headed out. The bee stings were gone. I was having fun. The worst was over. I got to the cabin first.

The wind was now only blowing about 30 MPH. It was still strong enough to blow my boots off the bench as I change. And it was still a VERY cold wind. At any other time it would have been a nasty day, but for us it was almost tropical. We were safely below. We cleaned the snow out of our gear and had lunch. Everyone was hungry but felt good to be down. We hiked the rest of the way out and went to town for Pizza. Everyone was in good shape.

Over all, it was a very interesting trip. I do regret not getting to the summit. I think I will go back and try it again in one big push. If I leave at two or three in the morning, I should be able to make it to the top before 2:00 PM. At least that way I can predict the weather a little better.

Conclusion: Be prepared for the worst. It DOES happen.

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