Mt. Shasta, 14,162', Avalanche Gulch route

Richard & Patsy Hughes
July 12, 2004

by Richard J. Hughes

This was a very spontaneous trip.

Patsy and I had just bought a 1987 Syncro (AWD + rear locking differential) Vanagon, which we figured would be the ultimate camping machine, on the Internet. The van was in Boise, Idaho. Our plan was to drive to Biose and then drive the two vehicles back to San Diego. Patsy had the bright idea to climb Mt. Shasta on the return trip to San Diego.

Thus, on Sunday afternoon, the 11th July, we went to the ranger station in Shasta City and ponied up the $15 each for oursummit permits. You are required to purchase summit permits, in addition to obtaining a freeWilderness permit, if you intend to climb above 10,000'. Most people who climb this route on Mt. Shasta do it in two days, camping either at the Sierra Club lodge, 7,890', or at Helen Lake, 10, 450'. Patsy and I figured we could climb it just as easily in one day.

Later that afternoon we drove up to Bunny Flat at 6,900', the standard Mt. Shasta trailhead, to check the place out, eat an early dinner and watch the sunset. We intended to climb the easiest, historic Avalanche Gulch route that was immortalised by John Muir when he was forced to spend a night on the summit of Mt. Shasta. At Bunny Flat there are two trailheads, neither of which was signed as to destination. The correct trailhead is the lower one, i.e., the one closest to the bathooms. Somewhat surprisingly, the Forest Service doesn't frown upon camping at Bunny Flat. As you might expect from a name like this, it's not especially flat.

We drove the Syncro down the steepest, most rutted dirt road that we could find to camp as far away from the road as possible. It was great. Other drivers would see our van parked down there and start driving down, only to change their mind and end up camping higher. As a result we were camping on our own down there. Sleeping in the Queen-size bed in the back of the van, we were insulated from the noise of people arriving late at night. We ate dinner, and went to bed at 8.30 pm, intending to waken at midnight.

We both awoke around 10.30 pm feeling really thirsty. I'd drunk a couple of beers before going to sleep too. We drank some water and lay there for a while. Then Patsy said, "Why don't we get up now and start early?" So we did.

We set off from the trailhead at 1 am, still not 100% sure that we were on the correct trail. I'd preprogrammed the route into the GPS, which indicated that we weren't heading in exactly the right direction, but it turned out that the trail wandered around a bit and we were on the right track.

At the Sierra Club lodge in Horse Meadow we used the ammoniacal bathrooms, tanked up with water and set off up Oberman's causeway. This would be better named the Devil's Causeway, because the stones were laid so higgeldy-piggeldy. When we climbed Scafell Pike, the high point of England, we also climbed stone steps laid to reduce erosion. The steps up Scafell Pike were a work of art. The steps that headed up Mt. Shasta were the Devil's own work. It was good practice for walking on talus though.

About a thousand feet below Lake Helen we stopped to strap on our crampons and pressed on, still in the dark. There was no moon and we only had the vaguest notion of where we were heading. A solo climber overtook us and asked the way, indicating he'd been following us. "Damned if I know", I replied. "I'm just following the footprints but I think this is the way". I pointed vaguely to what I assumed to be a moraine forming the edge of Helen Lake. Pats and I reached the lip of Helen Lake and stopped for a water break and for something to eat. I was feeling a little hypoglycemic, but still didn't feel like eating much. We could see flashlights well ahead of us on the snow chute to the right of "The Heart".

Dawn broke while we were resting at Helen Lake and then we set off again after strapping on our helmets. It was a strenuous ascent from this point on. Towards the top of this snow field I chose the left-most snow chute that led through the Red Banks. We had to cross a snow bridge at the bottom of the chute underneath which ice-cold water was flowing down each side of the moat. Fortunately, the snow was still really firm. At the top of the chute we were able to dispense with the crampons and continue on rock. We slogged our way up "Misery Hill", crossed a large snow field at 13,800' and arrived below the summit. I was tired and the summit blocks loomed large and formidable ahead. Patsy took over the lead and we switchbacked on upwards, arriving at the summit at 10.30 am. The wind made it cold and I felt as though my nose would freeze off my face, but the weather was perfect. There was not a cloud in the sky.

We didn't tarry long on the summit, but stopped on the way down to check out the sulphur springs that saved John Muir's life. These apparently change in size and location and, according to one other 60 year old summiter, were more extensive than they'd been a few years ago. Nevertheless, I wouldn't have liked to pass a stormy night huddled over one for warmth.

Patsy wasn't too keen on going down the chute that we had ascended, so she pressed for a descent of the notch to the right of (as you're looking up) the Red Banks. This was perhaps a mistake as the rock was steep and loose, reminiscent of the worst desert rock. We made it down safely, but Patsy was beginning to feel nauseus. Nevertheless, we still made it down in good time to drive to Dunsmuir and eat at Sengthong's Thai/Vietnamese restaurant, which was recommended to us by several people. Check it out if you're ever up that way; it was good, albeit expensive. We made the entire climb in 14 hours.

It was only after we returned to San Diego that we discovered that the van's AWD system wasn't working and we really only had 2WD. It did great on that dirt road, although I would have thought twice about driving down that road had I known. Not so fooken grooven. The previous owner had warned us that the viscous coupling was weak.

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A Los Alpinistas story by Richard J. Hughes.