Climb On - The 10,443ft Memoirs...

 I dug out this piece I had written back in 2004 after my first mountaineering attempt at Mt. Shasta. Although getting to 10,500 ft is not a significant achievement (I have myself hiked higher since then), it was a complete eye opener since this was the absolute first time I had been exposed to the wonderful sport of Mountaineering and the effects of altitude on a climber. Hope you will enjoy this candid narrative of what happened in those 2-3 days.

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Climb On – The 10,443 Memoirs

June 26th 2004

It is about eleven in the morning. From my perch I can see the heart and the red banks in the distance. Except for the occasional buzz of the bee and the flutter of the tent there is no other sound or movement around. I wonder if the bee is just feeling lonely or is it attracted to the sweet smell of my SPF 40 sun block. I watch the tiny dots that mark the landscape – the last batch of climbers making their way around the heart, to the left chute of the red banks – moving ever so slowly that they almost seem to be part of the scenery itself. Time ceases to exist. Everything around me slows down to a murmur. Only the clouds above appear to be in constant entropy – I wonder if they will converge into a storm by the evening. But for now, I am content, sitting on my Thermarest, leaning against an ice wall beside the tent.

Suddenly I hear a crackle in the distance – I turn around and see loose rocks rolling down in the distance. I strain to see if there are any people in the path…thankfully, there are none. As my mind absorbs all that is happening around me I think of the antithesis of it all – the beauty and the danger, in a constant Taoist dance. Yes, there is something to be said about sitting all alone at an altitude of 10,443 ft. I am at base camp - Helen Lake, in majestic Mt. Shasta…

I first met Matt in January of 2003. Like myself, Matt was an outdoor enthusiast and we had immediately struck a chord. During one of our conversations I realized that Matt was into Rock Climbing. Even as I negotiated my first 5.6s, I felt a strange sense of achievement. Each traverse on the rock face was a small victory. I could not stop. The story was always the same. I climbed hard until I was stumped by a problem. Then I would rest on the harness thirty feet above the ground, chalking up my hands and planning my next move. Some times I solved it and other times I resigned with a frustrated command – “Ready to lower”. Climbing is absolutely great because it is both fun and freedom at the same time.

In November of 2003 Matt and I started thinking of a summer summit attempt on Mt. Shasta. We figured that we had several months to get into shape. I had just spent a very sedentary consulting year and at the time I was barely able to run one twelve minute mile, before getting totally exhausted. I knew I had long ways to go.

Despite all the planning, by May we realized that our training situation was not any better off. One day, after training at the climbing gym, we decided to run a couple of miles along the beach. Suddenly we had an idea. Matt left the comforts of a four star hotel and traded them for the confines of a futon in my living room. After a hard day’s work which typically ended at around 11:00 pm, we put on 50 pound packs and headed out for a three mile walk on the sands of Huntington Beach. Weather permitting we were going to attempt to summit on June 27th.

It is indeed amazing how soon the body can adjust itself to the pains of training. By mid-June, Matt and I were able to walk four to six miles in the deep sands with 50 pound packs. Sometimes we were mistaken for homeless people (after a while, we got used to it); often offered food or water. On weekends, when I ventured for my six to ten mile hikes, people often walked up to me and enquired what I was up to. I was always happy to have the intermission – partly to inspire them, but mostly because it took my mind off the unbearable pain. By June 25th, when I got on the flight to Sacramento, I was ready – at least I thought I was.

About Mt. Shasta:

Mt. Shasta, located in Northern California, is a dominant volcano standing a towering 14,162 feet above sea level. Located in the Cascade Range, it is the second tallest volcano (next to Mt. Rainier in the state of Washington - 14,411 ft) in the continental United States. There are eight glaciers on Shasta’s slopes – Whitney, Bolam, Hotlum, Chicago, Wintun, Konwakiton, Watkins and Mud Creek.

Aerial View of Mt.Shasta (Source: Wikimedia.org)

Airport to Bunny Flat:

It had been a short hop, and I had spent most of my time pouring through my copy of the Bible – Mountaineering: The Freedom of the Hills. Matt and Kevin (Matt’s brother-in-law) had arrived just before I had. They were waiting, as I alighted from the aircraft. Soon, we were on our way to REI, Sacramento. We had to purchase fuel and Matt wanted to buy a shovel (of course he ended up picking a Black Diamond Alpine Pod harness as well…which was not really necessary for this trip because we were not planning to use ropes. Of course that is not surprising, considering that we are both gear junkies. Note: You can consider yourselves gear junkies if you visit REI every week, have an entire coat closet dedicated to climbing and mountaineering gear and your list of things to procure is larger than ever before.)

After a couple of hours on I-5, Mt. Shasta’s magnificent outline finally started coming into view. By the time we reached Shasta Village, it was about nine thirty in the evening. We stopped at a small market to purchase some bread and Gatorade. Finally, at around ten thirty, we filled out the registration forms at the ranger station (the Summit Pass costs $15 per person and is valid for three days), picked up our poop bags (yes, you have pack it in) and hit the road to the bunny flat parking lot. I had noticed that my wrist watch said the altitude was around 3,500 ft at the village. By the time we reached the parking lot, it read about 6,860 ft. We sorted out the gear and began packing for the trip. Since our duffels already contained our carefully packed backpacks, it did not take us long to get ready (Kevin was the youngest in our group. Consequently he was not only stronger, but also smarter because unlike us he still had not lost his gray cells to the demanding needs of the corporate world. He packed light. Matt and I, on the other hand were much older and we were carrying bigger and bulkier packs. P.S: I have asked Matt to kick my behind if I over pack the next time.)

Mt.Shasta from I-5 (Source: Wikimedia.org)

Note: First time climbers make several mistakes. It is just a given. What to take and how much to take is a very large part of it. Where I messed up completely was in the area of food and fuel. I had enough of both for a several day alpine style expedition. Since the plan was to reach Horse Camp on Friday night and Helen Lake on Saturday, I really required only two good dinners, soups or tea for brew, some energy bars/gels, and chocolate. Instead I was carrying about six meals, several soups, an enormous amount of energy bars and tons of other assorted stuff. I also had no idea about how much fuel would be required. I was carrying nearly a gallon, when I probably required only a third of that. In other words, I was carrying at least fifteen pounds of extra gear that was clearly not needed for this trip. When every breath of air contains lesser Oxygen, every ounce of extra weight becomes a big deal!

Bunny Flat to Horse Camp:

The climb starts at the trailhead along the parking lot. The 1.7 mile hike takes you to the Sierra Club Cabin, at about a 1,000 ft elevation from there. The Horse Camp area is maintained by the Sierra Club and run on donations from hikers (I think $5 for a tent and $3 for a Bivouac).

Horse Camp (Source: Wikimedia.org)

We started our climb at 11:30 pm. Kevin went ahead, Matt and I followed behind (we knew that this was going to be the case through the next couple of days). Most people can probably complete this hike in about an hour. It took me a good hour and half (a sign of things to come). We reached Horse Camp at 1:00 am. By 1:30 am, we had set up our tents. Although we were planning to make a brew afterward, we felt tired and decided to turn in instead.

Note: Although you are tired, it is not easy to fall asleep, at least not at 7,880 ft elevation. Even if you do succeed in dozing off, sleep is very intermittent.

The one good thing was that we had warmed ourselves well. I was wearing my base and fleece layers and also had the luxury of two sleeping pads (Kevin, in the spirit of ultra light packing had brought only his sleeping bag and was very thankful when I loaned him one of my pads at Helen), a good twenty degree bag and an extra liner for more warmth. After several hours of tossing and turning, we finally got up at about 8:30 am. It was a slow morning. Although we had no preset goals, it was probable that we were going to set up base camp at Helen Lake (there is a slightly higher chance of encountering rock falls when you go closer to red banks). We took our time to pack the tent and fill up our bottles at the spring before heading out on the Summit trail (the start of the trail is called Olberman’s causeway, a one mile rock path from Horse Camp to Spring Hill, built by James Olberman, the cabin’s first custodian). I had just bought my new MSR stove and did not want to figure out the intricacies of how to use it just yet (I was eager to hit the trail). So I chewed on a Balance bar, drank some Gatorade and set off, on the Avalanche Gulch.

Horse Camp to Helen Lake:

When we had come up to Horse Camp it was pretty dark. All I could see and feel was the silhouette of Shasta’s grandeur. But now in broad daylight, I saw the pristine white outline of the Casaval Ridge to my left and Sargents Ridge to my right. There was certain crispiness to the air. It was a beautiful morning.

We reached Spring Hill (8,400 ft) in about an hour. By now we had hit snow. Kevin was ahead of us already. Matt was keeping me company. For the most part, there was already a trail on the snow that we could follow. Every now and then, we resorted to a kick-kick-kick-step kind of exercise. I was averaging 500 ft altitude gain every hour or so (Note: Do not believe everything you see in Hollywood’s rendering of mountaineering…remember the motion picture Vertical Limit, where the summit team was at 26,000 and they were five hours from the summit? They were in the death zone, K2 is about twice as tall and none of the three climbers were on supplemental oxygen. Go figure.) At Shasta, most climbers average about 1,000 ft an hour.

We started taking short ten minute breaks after every half hour of climbing. I would take the pack off, eat an energy gel/bar and drink twelve to sixteen ounces of Gatorade (this was how I rewarded myself – it is really funny how little is needed for positive reinforcement here). We kept up this ritual for the most part of the morning. By noon, we were only doing about 250-300 feet an hour (steeper slope, exhaustion – take your pick!) Right about when we reached the 50-50 flat, I had been walking for an hour and half without break (bad idea, because we ended up resting for forty five minutes afterward, as opposed to the usual ten). Every step had become a burden. Matt was sitting on a rock about 50 yards from me and it seemed like it would take me an hour to get there. I was exhausted beyond comprehension. Not even my most strenuous walks on the deep sands of the beach had prepared me for anything like this. It seemed like I was carrying the weight of the entire planet on my back.

After the extra long break, we started heading on up. From here on it was purely a mind game. We were at about 9,400 feet and had a 1,000 feet altitude gain to make before we reached Helen Lake. We did not have all day. After reaching Helen Lake, we would have to find a camp site, shovel snow to level it off, set up our tent, melt snow to fill up our bottles, and prepare a brew. Our initial goal had been to reach Helen Lake by 3:00 pm. It was about 1:45 pm now and I was sure that it would take a lot longer now. By now we were also starting hitting steeper ground. The snow was getting a little slippery as well. I resorted back to the kick-kick-kick-step rhythm (generally at this time of the day the one does not absolutely require crampons, although careful observation may be required to negotiate the sudden hard and slippery parts). I could see some tents at the outer rim of Helen Lake. So I knew where the target was. But the problem was that I was completely out of breath. Every half minute I would double up and breathe hard to get every ounce of oxygen I could into my lungs. Through all of this, Matt was incredibly supportive. We decided to walk up ten steps and take a forty five second breather. Sometimes we would be able to walk fifteen and I would feel elated. Other times, I had to stop after eight and I would feel defeated. During one of our rest stops, I was amazed to see a man with a prosthetic leg cross me and walk on. That inspired me a lot. When we had about 300 feet left, Matt started going ahead to scout for camp sites. During that last one hour, I asked myself whether this was a sport I really enjoyed. Despite my current predicament, I decided that I did.

Progress was slow. All I wanted to do was to throw down the pack and rest. But I knew I could not. After my ten feet, I would first start panting uncontrollably for about thirty seconds. After the drumming of my heart beat in my ears died down, my mind would calmly ask me to take three deep breaths. After that, I would look up, plan my next ten steps and move on. Plan, execute, pant and plan again. I just kept going. My body was the instrument of my mind. What the mind wanted, the body did. Pain was irrelevant. I finally reached Helen Lake at 4:30 pm. I had always wondered if I would feel on top of the world after doing something like that. It felt great to be up there, but it certainly did not feel like being on top of the world (may be this is because the summit was still 3700 feet above me, or may be because I was just plain tired to care). I did feel a very strong sense of accomplishment though.

By now, Matt had found a site adjoining Kevin’s. Kevin had already pitched his tent, melted snow for the next day and was just clearly relaxing. Matt was busy shoveling snow. I was thoroughly exhausted and just pretty much sat down. I tried to get up and help Matt, but each time I did that, I started feeling impossibly tired. At 10,443, my lungs were just not getting enough Oxygen. So I resigned to the culinary duties. Matt dug out snow from nearby and I had the stove going. It was about 5:30 pm by now. It was getting colder by the minute. I dug out my outer shell layer and Balaclava from the pack to warm myself up. The snow seemed to take for ever to come to a boil. It took about 30-45 minutes of boiling to fill up one 32 ounce bottle (not to mention that after all that effort, you are left with very flat tasting water). Between Matt and I we had about eight such bottles to fill…not to mention the water we needed for preparing a brew that evening. Needless to say the exercise went on for a very long time. For dinner, we started off with a baby corn soup and then had some Dal (Indian lentil soup) and bread.

Note: As a person of Indian origin, I was actually just fine eating Dal. It turns out that Dal is a favorite for Matt as well. Good for him because if we ever won that million dollar lottery and decided to spend a few months climbing in the Himalayas, Dal Bath (Dal and rice) and Chapatti (tortilla like wheat bread) would be our staple diet.

As I turned in, I realized that I had made one terrible mistake. Except for the hearty dinner, I had not eaten any solid food all day (and I had missed dinner the previous night). I was purely living on energy gels and Gatorade, and doing the most physically demanding exercise of my life. I had severe heart burn. Because I was the slowest amongst us, Matt had figured that we needed to leave at 3:00 am for the summit attempt. With Insomnia added to the heart burn, I knew I could not. I felt shattered. I knew then that I would have to wave Kevin and Matt off in the morning. I could have started off but it was definitely not worth getting sick at 12,000 feet. I consoled myself by repeating Ed Viesturs’ famous saying– “Reaching the summit is optional, coming down is mandatory.”

Note: As you climb higher, there is lesser Oxygen in the air. As a result, the body’s tissues have a tough time getting the Oxygen needed for metabolism. This state is known as Hypoxia. To counter Hypoxia, the human body goes through some physiological adaptations at higher altitudes. One such adaptation is an increased breathing rate. Because of the increased breathing, Carbon Dioxide levels in the bloodstream drop. Apparently the lower Carbon Dioxide level starts driving alternating cycles of slow breathing and hyperventilation, leading to insomnia. Although I knew about it, I did not seek any medication to address it. Many mountaineers use Acetazolamide (Diamox) to prevent irregular breathing as well as Acute Mountain Sickness (AMS). If you are planning on climbing to altitudes greater than 10,000 feet, you must be prepared to face these challenges as well. Other problems that can arise include Cerebral (brain swells with increased fluid due to leaky vessels) and Pulmonary (body fluids leak into the lungs affecting normal respiratory function) Edema. Please consult your physician before undertaking any high elevation ascents. The best treatment for HACE or HAPE is immediate descent. In addition, mountaineers carry Dexamethazone (Dex) and Nifedipine to prevent or treat Edema. Dex can be injected into any bulky muscle mass (such as your thigh) or taken orally (the injection version generally works faster). The use of bottled oxygen (about 4 liters/minute) is also recommended in these situations.

I waved Kevin and Matt off at about 5:30 am. I could not sleep for a further couple of hours. I dozed off at about 7:30 am. Finally, at about 10:00 am, I got up and stepped outside to write my diary. Kevin came back at about 1:00 pm. He was clearly beat (by that evening, his nose was red and his lips had become thrice as big…we figured he should audition for lead singer role with the Rolling Stones). By his calculations, he reckoned that Matt must have either reached the summit or turned around (it is risky to linger around near the summit later in the day because of the risk of sudden afternoon storms). I was hoping that Matt had made it. Kevin had been on his way back down when Matt had just reached the upper end of the Red Banks. I knew we would need more water and went on to dig and melt more snow. Matt arrived at base camp at around 3:30 pm. He was red with sun burns and just looked sickly. Since the ranger had told us about the possibility of a storm, we decided to return the same day. Matt went on to rest for an hour, while I started packing my gear. I took extra precautions and double and triple bagged you know what. At about 5:30 pm we were done packing the tent and ready to start our climb down. I had one 32 ounce bottle of water left. I really did not want to carry any more and figured that ought to be plenty.

The trip down:

Since we were planning to glissade where we could, I wore a pair of Jeans shorts over my outer shell (bad idea when the snow is already slushy). I realized that I could never get enough momentum. Finally I removed them and just glissaded on my outer shell. Matt’s descent was quick and he was soon out of my view (of course at 250 lbs, his mass times acceleration due to gravity is much greater than mine). I glissaded half way and walked half way (it was not until later that I figured I should have used Matt’s shovel). Although I had drunk three full bottles of water that day and was well into my fourth, for some reason I kept feeling extremely thirsty. About half way down to Horse Camp, I realized that I had only about 12 ounces of water left. It was terrible. I was still at about 8800 feet or so and there was a good 1000 feet to hike before I could drink myself giddy at the spring. I decided to drink 4 ounces for every 300 feet of descent. Since I was now walking most of the way, I felt really thirsty. I remembered ‘Touching the Void’, in which Simon Yates said he could almost smell the water in the snow. It felt exactly like that. We reached Horse Camp at about 7:30 pm.

Matt reckoned that if we kept pace, we ought to reach the parking lot by 8:30 pm. That would give us enough time to go to a restaurant and have a good dinner. I agreed. I was ready for hot pasta and an endless glass of Diet Coke. Although initially we had talked about the possibility of camping by Lake Shastina that night, that idea was soon dismissed in favor of a hotel room and a hot shower.

We started walking down the hill. At about 8:00 pm, Matt started walking ahead. Although the Oxygen situation was improving, I had hardly slept the last couple of days and had skipped several meals. I started staggering along the trail. At one point, I tried to lean on a rock and basically just fell off. I was so content lying down there that I did not even want to get up. It was very weird. After a couple of minutes, my mind took over again. I took a gulp of water, stood up and started walking again. This time, my goal was a series of 50 feet descents. I would stagger until my altimeter read 50 feet lower and stop for a breath. It was getting pretty close to 9:00 pm and there was no sign of the road. I started getting desperate. Finally, I saw the parking lot and mustered all remaining energy to reach it. When I reached our car, I threw down my pack and just lay prostrate on the road for about fifteen minutes. I remember this one car stopping by to see if I was still alive. They moved on only after I gave my thumbs up. Finally when I sat up, I mixed a sachet of electrolyte in a few ounces of water and just drank it up in one gulp. I remember being amazed at Matt endurance. He had gone from Helen Lake to the Summit and back down to Bunny Flat that day. After half an hour, we found a comfortable suite and ordered Pizza delivery. I slept sound that night.

What next?

Although I did not reach the summit this time, I have come to cherish my experience. Mountaineering is not a competitive sport in the general sense of the term. When you are on the mountain there is no winning or losing and it is not about conquering. Although you are traveling as a team, for the most part, you are alone…it is just the mountain and you. Mountaineering is a very personal and elating experience. At 10,443 feet I realized what the lack of Oxygen can do to you. Although this deterioration is hardly proportional at 26,000 feet, I have some peripheral idea of what that could be like. One has to respect the purists who do the 8,000 meter peaks without the use of bottled Oxygen.

As far as I am concerned, I am hooked for life. Perhaps there is a glacier course on Mt. Baker in the horizon, may be another summit attempt. After that, who knows what? Island Peak? Cho Oyu? Your guess is as good as mine.

References:

Mt. Shasta Route 1, Avalanche Gulch – Steve Lewis (ISBN: 1-888740-05-1)

Mountaineering – The Freedom of the Hills (ISBN: 0-89886-828-9)