Pop's birthday on Mt. Shasta

I had attempted both Mt. Shasta, and the sister peak, Shastina three weeks earlier  with some friends. We didn't quite make it to both, and it haunted me. I couldn't really stop thinking about it. I made plans to go back with my dad and brother for my dad's birthday. We were attempting a different, more remote, route on the south side of the mountain this time, Clear Creek. We camped the first night at Bunny Flat and made the hour drive to the Clear Creak Trail Head in the morning. I was so excited, I actually forgot to take any pictures. So, let's start in the morning. 

 Two of us were completely prepared with proper, lightweight gear, just enough water and food, a good night's rest. And then there was Matt....

who managed to eat about 5 bratwursts, drink a 6 pack, and get up 3 or 5 times during the night to pee. But hey, look at him, no complaints.  "My snowboarding stuff will work fine," he says.

The hike to base camp is a little over three miles. Not too steep, pretty shady. The snow at the trail head was melted for the most part. It made for easy trail following, and a much more mellow hike than I was expecting. I should note, it was not as easy for some.

 

They were tired, but of course they had time for some good ol fashion ranting.

Matt's comment is especially funny when you consider what happens later, on the mountain. 

I wore this for sun protection primarily, but it also made me feel like Snake Eyes from G.I. Joe. He was always my favorite. 

and that shit caught on like wildfire.

 

The dirt trail slowly transitioned into snow. It got steeper. The packs started to feel much heavier. My nipple made it's first imposing appearance.

But spirits were still high, and no, that isn't some lame innuendo just because it looks like my dad is stoned and passing his two sons a joint right here.

Here, you can see the top of the ridge, where it opens up into a few very nice camping spots, and even has a running spring nearby. We chose the highest spot for our basecamp, around 10,000 feet just above Clear Creek Meadows.

 

As the sun went down, we ate, they talked about El Pato and BBQs, and I tried my best to pick out and memorize the route we would take at 2am the next morning. I had no GPS, but had 3 maps, and had read just about every account of the Clear Creek climb. Still, it seems pretty simple in a book. When you are looking up at the peak, the scale is surprisingly intimidating.

After several hundreds of dollars in gear purchases, there was one thing I wasn't prepared for, the heat. That night was very warm, and I woke up every hour to take off another layer of clothing. About ten minutes from being totally nude, I hear other climbers start to make their way up the mountain. Christ, this will be difficult with one hour of sleep. Matt taps me on the shoulder and we start preparing for our climb. Kinda like in Commando or Rambo, lots of straps being pulled tight, clips clipping, zippers zipping, and a cold hard stare to finish it off. 

Pops stayed behind to monitor our progress via walkie-talkie. He chose the handle "Sherpa 20."

The first picture I am able to take is when the sun starts creeping up around the mountain at about 4am. 

We are making good progress. The other climbers we started with were left far behind. They didn't seem to know where they were going either. 

You can see Matt in the lower left. For those of you who know him, you will agree that it's pretty rare when he isn't up to a nearly impossible physical challenge, but big brother had some altitude sickness, labored breathing, nausea, dizziness. Not a good combination for climbing a steep, icy mountain. I secretly revelled in the fact that I was finally better at him than something, but tried to act concerned and waited up for him.

Luckily, there were still some tracks left from the days before, so you could more or less follow trails. We also teamed up with some dudes from Oregon who were in a similar position as us, kinda knew where they were going but there was still a strong chance of ending up like a Uruguayan soccer team in the Andes.

 

It got colder, the air got thinner, and Matt's conditioned worsened. I offered to go back down with him but he would not consider it. "There is no way in hell I'm going back to work on Monday with only an excuse of why I didn't summit."

So, we had spent about 7 hours climbing toward this crop of rocks. The summit!

Well, not quite. This was a giant headwall of rock that obscured the view of the summit.  I realized that we had about 2 more hours of climbing (misery) to go. To give you an idea of scale, the guys a few minutes ahead of me are just tiny specs on this landscape. Here, you can go left, traverse a glacier and meet up with the traffic on misery hill, or cut right (just to the right of the large rock on the skinny strip of snow). We went right, and didn't know it at the time but chose the much more difficult route.

I finally reached the summit plateau.  You can see climbers to the right cresting Misery Hill. Once I climbed to the top, I yelled down to Matt, "I can see the summit!" What Matt heard was "This is the summit!" I actually started feeling bad about now. He was almost on his hands and knees wanting to throw up at every step and we still had some climbing to do.

After 9 hours, at around 11am, we reached the summit. Matt was about 30 minutes behind me, and accidentally climbed this huge slope, unnecessarily. I watched this from the peak, tried to yell directions, sort of laughed. Eventually, we both made it to the top, touched the marker, signed the log book and just kind of sat stunned for a while.

There is really nothing that can describe the feeling of standing on a mountain after such intense discomfort. This strange euphoria hits you. You can't tell if it's because of the sense of accomplishment, the state of complete awe looking out at the view, or the lack of oxygen and complete physical fatigue. Either way, the feeling is fiercely addicting.

Since the snow was melting quickly, and Matt couldn't really hike any further, we decided to glissade down the mountain. And holy hell, I don't think I have ever had this much fun. You take your crampons off, use your ice axe as a rudder, and slide on your ass right down slope. 9 hours up, 2 hours down. Nothing better.

Matt's condition  was improving quickly. This is the first moment in which I was sure he was going to survive:

My Dad was waiting down below. It sure looks like he had a leisurely morning, got up late, had some coffee, read a book. He was awfully proud of us though!

After this exhausting climb we got to......do some more hiking. We got back to our camp, packed up, and made our way down to the parking lot. I stopped to look back a few times. I don't want to forget that, in California, we are truly blessed with places such as these.

We return safely and start the journey back home. Happy Birthday, Dad!
(My Dad also got to glissade a bit).

Zion, Bryce, Arches, Canyon (the grand one)

I have been to Utah, Arizona and Nevada, but these states were all seen from the window of the Rum Diary tour van. So, instead of riding in a  sweaty box with four hungover and beastly smelling men, living on slim jims and code red, stopping only at gas stations and the occasional Iron Skillet, I chose to drive a slighty douche-baggy mustang convertible, stop only at incredible national parks, and was blessed with the cheerful company of Ms. Anderson.

 

I love this expression of joy mixed with terror. "Driving is really scary" she said."Would I look cooler if I leaned my arm out the window?" 

 

Our first stop was the Bellagio Hotel to have breakfast with Uncle Bubba and 10K. Why I didn't take any pictures of the insane buffet they treated us to, I will never know. Suffice to say that it was a nice balance of family time and pure gluttony. 

Just a couple hours out of town, the scenery began to shift from the centipedes of stucco homes and Starbcucks to the granite cliffs of Zion.

What a magnificent valley, especially here as presented by Lauren. 

 

 As dusk approached, we set up camp and began preparing our first meal.

This is when I first learned that Lauren is a pyromaniac. I'm not saying that in a cute way, she loves to burn things. As she explained it "to see how they catch fire, and how they smell when they are burning." She actually accumulated a little pile of things throughout the night to toss into the fire.

Tent view. 

The next day we began our hike to Angel's Landing, but not before Lauren hams it up a bit for the camera.

Somewhere near the top, a lady coming down the other way says to us "You're not even half way." We thought that could mean two things:

1. We looked way too confident.
2. We looked like we should turn back.

Either way, we think she should mind her own business. I may have given her a smile similar to this one.

I had brushed up on my Zion edible plant identification skills before the trip, but I was still very surprised to find a glacies cremorem, Soft Serve Swirl Tree tucked away between some rocks.I shared the bounty with Ms. Anderson.

 

We made our way back to our campsite and began to prepare supper. Lauren insisted on cooking (burning) the food (and anything else in reach), as she would for the rest of the trip.

And, I guess the other campers who walked by assumed we were the type of jerks that would actually buy a car like this.

 

But on our drive to Bryce Canyon, we realized that looking like jerks was totally worth it. With the top down, we made our way along Hwy 89, and UT 12. These roads follow switchbacks up through the granite, weave in and out of tunnels, and provided an opportunity to be happy about being stopped for twenty minutes for road construction.  

Bryce Canyon was a complete surprise. Hadn't really heard of it, didn't know what to expect. But boy was I excited when I saw the valley, so excited in fact that I found it difficult to stand up straight.

The Fairyland Trail hike is highly recommended. It wraps around the whole valley. We maybe saw two other groups on this trail, a bit too early for the full swing of tourist season.

Such a bizarre landscape. I was expecting to see a Jawa pop out at any moment. 

Orchestral Maneuvers on the Trail. 

When we began to settle in for the evening, right around the time the temperature dropped to 18 degrees and we turned into Popsicles, we realized why the place was somewhat deserted. We had only planned to stay one night anyway. It was well worth it. 

The next morning we drove to the park I was most excited about, Arches National Monument. Not even having to listen to the moronic babble of Rush Limbaugh on the radio could dampen my mood. 

Lauren spent hours looking online to find the perfect campsite in Arches. "She's the one," she said as she saw an image of this big rock in the middle of one of the sites. Naturally, when we arrived, she was pretty excited to see her rock. Do you remember those strange poses that the photographer made you strike during senior portraits? Just curious...Yes, I put her up to it, but for some reason she really embraced the challenge.

The next morning, after I coaxed Lauren out of the tent with a nice cup of tea...

...we embarked on what would be our favorite hike of the trip, the Devil's Garden Loop trail. Hard to put into words, suffice to say that we felt the constant presence of Edward Abbey.

 We had to switch campsites on the second night, and both agreed that this is the best we would have it on the trip. When do you actually get to camp right up in the landscape like this? Rock Cleavage.

It was hard to leave this park, really hard. But there was the promise of meeting up with my favorite (unless any other cousins are reading this) cousin, Sarah, at the Grand Canyon.

 

I love hanging out with my cousin. We get to catch up, deconstruct family dynamics, and we get to talk in fond remembrance of our favorite person ever, Grandma Shirley!  My Grandma would love the fact that we were in the Grand Canyon together, and her spirit is close in places like this.

We got to hike down towards the bottom of the canyon, eat our delicious lunch, rescue a New Yorker, you know, standard stuff. Sarah and her friend, Janelle, also got to discuss the horoscope, and debate the qualities of different power crystals. Ahhh, just like being in California. 

 

Lauren says to make sure I include a picture from the bottom so no one can deny our strenuous hike. We are both alike in this way, quietly (and sometimes not so quietly) competitive.  

 All in all, the Grand Canyon was stunning. Yes, packed with tourists, but you can't be cynical in a place that provides such perspective. I ended up feeling a great sense of camaraderie with the fellow vacationers. We said our goodbyes and made our way back to Las Vegas to fly home. 

You know that feeling when you are headed home from adventure, and it starts setting in that all of the months of excitement and planning are drawing to a close? You realize that you will be back, sitting at your desk the next day, back in the routine, daydreaming about the days of old? Well, we fought that by listening to religious radio, the kind you just can't find in the Bay Area. Quality stuff. Bad news: We learned that we are probably going to hell. Good news: We are having too much fun to care.