Mt. Shasta via Clear Creek

This one lined up so nicely! Shasta made our calendar ages ago, we got Mark Penewit on board at some point this spring, then a couple weeks before the climb his girlfriend Sarah decided to join too. Memorial Day weekend 2017 and the first real spring weather and mountain conditions of the year – perfect.

To avoid the masses, we opted for the less climbed Clear Creek route on the mountain’s Southeast side. The rangers informed us that we would be some of the first climbers on the route this season and that accessing the trailhead would require an additional 3-4 mile hike due to this year’s persistent snow. Still, Clear Creek is the least technical route on the mountain and sounded perfect for our team of novice climbers.

I don’t know what I was expecting, but we really were the first ones up there. That meant following what I imagine were logging roads for a few miles to the trailhead, then following unfamiliar trail around 3 miles to camp. After about 20 minutes of hiking, everything was snow covered and began to look the same – trees and snow and the mountain somewhere in the distance. For the most part we were able to follow the road, but eventually we reached a road sign to Clear Creek that seemed to point right through the woods. Mistakenly, I followed it. It didn’t feel right, but then again, the alternatives seemed worse. I followed it until there was entirely no hope of it being the correct path – then broke out the maps.

Unfortunately, I’d cropped my printed map to begin at the clear creek trailhead and end at the summit; it wasn’t any much help for the network of National Forest and logging roads on the way. Fortunately Michelle had a topo partially loaded on her phone and with the active GPS, we were able at least to place ourselves, if not our trailhead. We talked it over then began navigating cross country, sticking to the edge of an obvious and spectacular canyon. After an uncomfortable couple hours of wandering around in the trees, we made it to what could only be the trail – a sort of gap through the forest and to the foot of the mountain. We only found the trailhead on our descent.

We were all worn down by the time we reached camp. We each dug out little platforms for our tents and set about securing them as best as we knew how on the snow. Fortunately the night was calm and never tested our rigging. Melting snow for drinking water proved tedious and fuel intensive. We hydrated, melted water for our summit day, then cooked on the last of the fuel. It was nerve-racking to cut it that close. The sun went behind the ridge early in the evening and we went for our sleeping bags. Tomorrow would be another early start.

We set alarms for 1:30 and might have set off about 2:15 AM. Navigation had been difficult in the daylight, but now, setting off up the mountain in the black of night, it was even dodgier. Before long I knew we had gotten ourselves into some steeps. Something very strange happens when climbing by headlamp. You very quickly loose any sense of exposure and instead focus only on what’s immediately ahead. That makes for confident and secure climbing, but silences all too well that inner voice telling you something might be amiss. I was concerned for our team, but everyone felt great on the morning’s firm crust and we continued zig-zagging our way up the first couple slopes.

We hit a broad snowfield and the gradient eased up. Soon after, we crossed an exposed boulderfield and discovered a faint climber’s trail, only to loose it in the next snowfield. Periodically we’d all turn out our lights and regain our bearings by starlight on the mountain’s form. The night was crisp, not cold, and the stars blazed. It was exciting to be climbing. After a couple hours the sky began to brighten and we could more confidently pick a path of least resistance through the mix of snow and boulderfields.

We caught a beautiful sunrise and our route began to steepen. The climb up to “red rock” drug on and on. Our progress slowed with the increasing altitude and slope angle. It was demoralizing how the landmarks never got any closer. At red rock (12,800’) there are a couple choices. We took one look at the Wintun Glacier, but decided we had no business on anything so steep and runnout. That left us with a steep gully that went through an imposing cliff band. We started up it with high hopes.

The gully wasn’t in great shape either. This had been described as class 2 in dry conditions, but was extraordinarily loose – the small pebbles frustratingly shifty under foot, the larger rocks downright dangerous. We moved up slowly for 100’ or so until we hit snow and ice. It was steep. I’d guess 40+ degrees , maybe steeper? Certainly more than I’d bargained for. Apparently I was the only one alarmed by this. Mark and Sarah had scampered off ahead, while Michelle and I stopped to put our crampons back on. Once the spikes were on Michelle crushed it, climbing the last 100’ of mixed rock and ice with confident, secure feet. It’s a blast going up into the mountains with friends who rock climb. I would not have expected anyone to solo this section, but everyone assessed it and felt comfortable. The girls reported this section as one of their very favorites. Cool!

Michelle and I needed a break after that pitch, but Mark and Sarah pushed on to the summit. We caught them on their way down from the pinnacle, now only about 300’ above. Eventually our short, slow steps paid off and there was nothing more to climb! Wooo!! Time to get off our wobbly legs and slide down on our butts!