When people ask what I've done this summer, I find myself repeating the same story: I'm staying in Davis working, pretty bored, can't wait to start traveling. But that's not really fair, I've actually had a pretty great time in Davis considering that I am at home, working.



Devin and I had been talking about climbing Mt. Shasta for a few years, and so we finally decided to do it. Shasta isn't a technical climb, but it is pretty steep. We loaded up our packs at Bunny Flats around 1am and started walking. I hadn't slept on the car ride to the trail head and so I was really tired and kind of out of it at this point. Kind of like sleep walking - I didn't really think about it, I just moved.

I think it actually helped that I couldn't see the trail up the mountain in the dark. You know how it's always easier to do something if you don't know the full extent of the challenge? At least for me. It's easier to do plank if I'm not looking at the seconds tick by on my watch. Well since it was dark I couldn't see the winding trail up the mountain, traversing fields of snow and gaining 4,000 ft of elevation.

By 5:30, the sun was starting to rise. I had woken up a little bit more when we stopped to put on crampons for traction on the snow and ice. I looked up to the top of the ridge, which was highlighted by the rising sun and visible by this time, and started climbing. Climbing is easier for me when I don't stop to take breaks; that way I don't give myself a chance to get tired and it's easier to keep going. So I ended up getting ahead of Devin and her dad. This probably shouldn't have scared me since there were tons of other climbers on the mountain to help each other if anything went wrong. But I didn't really know what I was doing, I wasn't sure of the route we were taking, I wasn't sure how to use my ice axe, and I'd heard quite a few stories of climbers getting injured or killed by falling boulders. So fear, exhaustion, and cold created a dogged determination to get to the top of the ridge where I was supposed to meet the others.


I finally got to the top of the Red Rocks, the hardest climbing behind me. One more hill, an ice field, and then the final little rock formation that is the summit. I figured that Devin and her dad were about 30 min behind me, so I hunkered down behind a wind shelter made of rocks. I could see beautiful mountains for miles, and I was in a sunny warm place, so I should have been dandy. But, I was starting to realize how cold I actually was. After at least 20 min of sitting, my numbed feet still had no feeling. I was starting to shiver, and the wind kept blowing icy air through my windbreak and lightweight under armor. The night of no sleep, combined with the cold, was making me very sleepy. What would it hurt, I thought, if I just dozed off in the sun right here.

I woke up a little later, I didn't have a clock so I really have no idea how much time had passed, and thought "Wow, my lips are cold." It's one of those things you don't notice until it changes. You never wake up with cold lips, so when you do, you notice it. I just kind of sat there, behind my rocks, wondering what I should do next but not really feeling like doing anything. And shivering. I must have looked pathetic, because another climber who had stopped at the top of this ridge gave me the down jacket off of his back. This helped, and after another hour or so, I was warming up. But where was Devin? Had she walked passed me? Had I gone the wrong way?

Not knowing what to do, I decided to stay put, because surely she or her dad would have to pass by me. Sure enough, Devin's dad appeared shortly, recognizable in his mountaineering-esque khaki pants and matching shirt. He said that Devin had gotten too cold to climb, and was a couple hundred feet below us warming up. He didn't think she was going to make it to the top, but I could definitely summit by myself.

This posed a difficult dilemma for me. I'm a pretty determined person - attempting to climb a mountain means I'm intending to get to the top or I will have failed. On the other hand, my feet were still numb and it would be more fun to climb down the mountain with company. So I decided to go down with my friends, because I was doing this with them and it didn't feel right to get to the top by myself. We hiked down to where Devin was waiting, put on our waterproof pants, and prepared to slide down the mountain. That's right, we glissaded down the 4,000 feet of brutally steep trails that had taken hours to trek up. It took about 20 blissfully exhilarating minutes of sitting on my butt, feet up, ice axe in hand should I get going too fast and need to bail.

From there it was a few short miles to the trail head and the real world where words like crampon and glissade have little meaning. But I didn't make it to the summit and so I have to go back. Maybe next summer? The climb was a little difficult, and a lot of the time I was wanting to get off the mountain as soon as possible. But there's something about a real physical challenge that's completely addicting.