First views up the mountain after sunrise, at the rock band.
I've been trying to get my older brother, who lives in Nevada, to do a winter climb of Shasta with me for a couple years now, but it hasn't worked out. Coming back up from my California trip (a wedding in Sonoma) it seemed like a good chance to size the mountain up. Of course, the winter route I was interested in, Casoval Ridge, is out of shape this time of year, but I'd read that the Clear Creek route was manageable. I got my basic route information from here supplimented by talking to a ranger at the Mt. Shasta ranger station on my drive down. Updated information: there's still a $15.00 summit fee, but there's no longer a $5.00 parking fee.
The drive in to the trailhead isn't exactly as described by Steve Lewis, but the dirt road has half a dozen prominent signs pointing you towards the trailhead, so it's impossible to get lost.
I slept at the trailhead, and woke up at 3:00 AM. By the time I got packed up, registered, and ate some breakfast, I hit the trail at 3:55 (see below) with my headlamp on bright.
The trail was easy to follow in the light from my headlamp, and after an hour, I was out of the trees, and was able to follow the trail by the light of the moon.
I got to about 9800 feet by about 6:30, pretty good time, considering my early stages of Dunlap's disease (the trailhead is at 6480') There are supposed to be some springs here, the ranger told me, and the guides mention, but I didn't notice any. Perhaps they dry up by this time of the year?
Lewis' route description says you can either take Wintum Ridge or the Clear Creek ridge. The ranger warned me off Wintum Ridge because of rockfall, so I went left. I was basically on scree the whole time. There is a boot track that you can follow, so you're not doing ALL your own routefinding (though it's not much of an issue on a climb like this, but it does help to minimize rocks in the shoes.) About halfway up the slope, there are a couple of interesting red rocks, which made for a good navigation marker on the descent.
I started the hike in shorts and a t-shirt, but at 11,000' or so, where I stopped for a snack, the wind was really blowing, so I put on some more clothes -- I zipped on the pants legs to my shorts, and put on a smartwool shirt, shell, and gloves.
Half my steps into the scree involved a slip back down the hill, and I amused myself by trying to figure out how many feet I was really climbing, with the sliding down, to get to 14,162. Maybe 15,000'? 16,000'? 17,000'?
From below, you see a rock band that looks like it's the summit area, but once you're through this, it's another hour or more of slogging through scree before you get to the summit area. At this point, as the ranger warned me, it's vital to pay attention to where you come through the rocks, so I took careful compass bearings to make sure I could find my way back.
The actual summit involves a class 2/3 scramble up steepish rocks (no scree for a change!) and I was up there by about 11:00. The last hour or so I felt a bit nauseous and headachy, perhaps some altitude symptoms. The summit register is in the biggest, beefiest box I've ever come across, and it was only half full, so there was room to scribble my little entry. A few photos, and back down the hill.
One interesting bit is that on the summit spire, I saw these really interesting rock crystals. I tried to take a picture of them, but couldn't get a good shot, but then I found a piece of rock with some affixed, so I "liberated" it. I'm hoping to do some research (like, check with my brother the geologist) about what it might be.
Between the two spires of the summit are supposed to be the sulphur springs where John Muir spent the night, but I sure didn't find, or smell, them. I have heard they're much less active now than they were a century ago; at any rate, I was pretty sure I knew where I was looking, but further research suggests I wasn't quite far enough north.
The descent was pretty routine. It's easier descending scree than climbing it, you look for the loosest sandy scree and just slide down it like walking down a sand dune. I found the chute I'd climbed up, and aimed for the big red rocks, which were much more to the left (SE) than it seemed like. I never did need the crampons I brought, but my ice axe was a great help, mostly on the descent, in maintaining my balance on the slippery scree.
On the descent I found a pair of crampons, slightly rusty, sitting there next to a little cairn. Obviously, someone had stashed them there. There had been only one other car in the parking lot, and I had passed and seen no one either going up or down, so I figured that someone had stashed them on a previous climb, and then had been unable to find them. Booty? I packed them out, but left a lost & found message on CascadeClimbers.com.*
I managed to put together about 500' of glissading on what little snow I found, which was nice to ease the pounding on my aging knees.
The hike out was nice to do in the daylight, to see what I'd missed. It is quite pretty there, much different than up north, and it was nice to see the mountain from a distance, and see what appears to be a hanging glacier.
Got back to the trailhead right at 3:55, for an even 12 hours of hiking/climbing. Seven hours up, five hours down.
I have to say, I can't really recommend this route, at least this time of year. Earlier when it's mostly snow covered, it would probably be an excellent moderate route, a lot like the south side of Mt. Hood, though longer. My interest in doing Casoval Ridge next spring is definitely heightened, and I'd also really like to hike up Shastina some time (again, while it's snowcovered.) Still, it's pretty remarkable to think that you can be on a 14,100' mountain in California, on a beautiful summer day, and have the entire mountain to yourself!
Equipment notes: My lightweight hikers blew out on my Forbidden Peak climb, and I replaced them with a pair of Salomon Excite low-top shoes. They worked just fine on this hike, though a higher top would have kept more scree out. I wore gaiters on the descent, and blew out the instep straps on both of them on the sharp scree. More repair work.
* Postscript
I got a reply on my cc.com post; turns out the crampons were rentals, from a place called Adventure's Edge in Humboldt County. I mailed them back and got a nice card from them (and a few $$ to cover postage and handling.) Felt good to help out folks -- the guys who got their rental deposit back.
** Postscript 2
I was mildly intrigued by that metal cylinder, and asked a couple people, who didn't seem to know. Finally I found the answer in a book called Mt. Shasta: History, Legend & Lore by Michael Zanger. Turns out that in 1878 the Coast and Geodetic Survey decided to erect a big monument on the summit with a reflecting cone, for determining the height of Shasta via triangulation. The cylinder blew down in 1903, and they took the copper reflecter down and put it the Sission Museum in the town of Mount Shasta.
During the years it was standing, Of course, people painted or scratched their names on it, in fact, Zanger says, there was a can of white paint kept at the summit for that purpose.
