Mt. Shasta

After our mini road trip to Oregon and Washington, I had planned to rest the weekend before my 2nd ablation procedure. However, Andrew had other ideas. He had reached out to the Send It Foundation to surprise me with a mountaineering trip to Mt. Shasta!

Since 2011, my body has been through lots of trauma. The most physically challenging moments were learning how to walk, once after my tumor removal, and another after my stay in the ICU. I was only in my twenties, and having to use a walker was a humbling (and frustrating) experience. I wanted to be normal like everyone else, and through sheer perseverance, I regained my strength and was able to do just that. 

For the most part, I've done a pretty good job of concealing my health issues to the outside world. The only physical limitations that I currently face are:

• Lack of power in my left hamstring muscle. The primary tumor site was in my left hamstring muscle, and 2/3 of this muscle had to be removed. 
• Limited lung capacity. The cancer metasized to my lungs, and sections of my lung were removed and ablated. 

Many of my fellow warriors have not been as fortunate as I have. Some experience extreme side effects as a result of their treatments or had to have limb salvage surgery, while others have passed away. As long as I am alive, I owe it to them, and to myself to always push my limits, and rise to the challenge. I do this by setting a yearly physical challenge for myself. To date, I have completed the following:

• 2012- Alkali Flat Trail, White Sands National Monument (7 miles)
• 2013- Half Dome, Yosemite National Park (16 miles; 4,800 ft. elevation gain)
• 2014- Lassen Peak Trail, Lassen Volcanic National Park (5 miles; 2,000 ft. elevation gain)

Additionally, I want to change the negative stereotypes that cancer patients have. Usually when people find out I have cancer, many look at me and treat me differently; I’m no longer a strong woman, but rather a fragile baby. It's only when they hear stories of my physical feats that their perception of me changes. That's what I want my legacy to be, that of a warrior. 

Mt. Shasta Overview

Mt. Shasta is a stratovolcano located south of the Oregon-California border, and midway between the Nevada border and Pacific Ocean. The mountain rises to 14,179 feet, and has a base more than 17 miles in diameter. On a clear day, it can be seen 150 miles away. 

Mt. Shasta

It is the fifth highest peak in California, the second highest mountain in the Cascade Range, and the 46th highest mountain in the United States. Every time we've past this formidable mountain, it sends shivers up my spine. 

Scoping out the climbers.

Arrival

From San Francisco, we drove to Weed, a small city located outside of Mt. Shasta town. During the drive, I had mixed emotions; I was excited to be going on this adventure, but worried about what lay ahead. Over 15,000 summit attempts are made every year, but only a third are successful. Normally, climbers train for a few months before attempting to summit Mt. Shasta, and here I was, trying to do it with no formal training whatsoever. I couldn’t decide whether I was fearless or foolish. 

What am I getting myself into?

Early the next morning, we drove into Mt. Shasta town to The Fifth Season, and we were greeted by Katie Schou. She was there on behalf of the Send It Foundation, and Jamie Schou, my friend, and fallen warrior. This Mt. Shasta trip would be the first inauguration of the Send It Foundation, and I was honored to be carrying the torch of Jamie's legacy. 

With the help of our guide, Lauren Seymore, we rented most of our mountaineering equipment: showshoes and trekking poles, crampons and ice axe, gaiters, mountain helmet, sleeping bag and pad, and mountaineering tent. We had our final bag check, and headed up the mountain.

Example of the mountaineering equipment we rented. 

Route

The plan would be to ascend Mt. Shasta via the 7 mile long John Muir Route, commonly known as Avalanche Gulch. This route would be the easiest because it wouldn't involve anything more technical than general crampon use and self-arrest technique.

Day 1
Bunny Flat (6,880 ft.) to Horse Camp (7,800 ft.)

On the first day, we climbed from Bunny Flat to Horse Camp. At Horse Camp, there was a large stone cabin that could be used as an emergency shelter. Inside was information about the area, and a visitor’s register. 

The stone cabin was where all the cool climbers hung out.

Welcome!

The visitor log reads "Sending it for Jamie Schou!"

After the visit to the stone cabin, I had secretly hoped that we would be staying there for the night. In reality, Andrew and I would be camping outside. Usually, I wouldn't have any issue with it since we've camped in below freezing conditions before. However, this would be our first time in the snow.

Home Sweet Home. 

After setting up our tent, we had snow school training with Lauren; we learned the proper way to use crampons to traverse up the mountain, and how to self-arrest if we fell on a snow slope. All in all, it was a great day, or so I thought. 

On our way to snow school. 

Altitude Sickness & Freezing Temperatures

The first night was miserable since my body was acclimatizing to the high altitude. At higher altitudes, the availability of oxygen is decreased, and at our elevation of 8,000 feet, there was only 75% of oxygen available compared to San Francisco. As a result, I had a headache, and difficulty sleeping. 

In addition, camping in the snow was rough. No matter the amount of layers I wore, or what position I slept in, I just couldn’t get warm. That night was the coldest that I had ever felt in my entire life. 

Maybe sleeping like a mummy will keep me warm?

Day 2

Horse Camp (7,880 ft.) to 50/50 Flat (9,400 ft.)

On the second day, the ascent was much steeper, and I had a tough time keeping up with Lauren and Andrew. I hadn’t slept well the night before, my legs were exhausted from the constant uphill climb, and I had difficulty breathing. 

When will this end?

I was frustrated with myself because even though I pushed myself hard, it was obvious that I was the weakest of the group, and that I was holding everyone back. There were several times where I wasn’t sure that I was physically capable of going on further, and I thought of giving up, but I couldn't let the Send It Foundation and everyone else down. In any case, I continued on until I reached 50/50 Flat. 

Almost there. 

Because Mt. Shasta towers over neighboring mountains, it tends to draw incoming weather systems to it, and create its own weather. At 50/50 Flat, we definitely saw this; lenticular clouds covered the entire mountain, and for a while there was zero visibility. It was a bit eerie, but the moments when the clouds cleared, the view was spectacular. 

It was such a relief to finally sit down.

Day 3

50/50 Flat (9,400 ft.) to Summit (14,179)

At 9,400 ft. elevation, there was only 70% of oxygen available. Despite this, I slept much better than the night before. At 12:30AM, we left 50/50 Flat, and began our ascent. By this time, the clouds had disappeared, and we saw the beautiful moon and stars.

Helen Lake

Unfortunately, weather conditions changed quickly. As we got higher, and closer to Helen Lake, it began to sleet. Sleet is a form of precipitation that falls as ice pellets, often mixed with rain or snow. This happens when the frozen precipitation enters through a warm layer and melts, and then proceeds through a colder layer and refreezes. The ice pellets didn't hurt at all; it just bounced off our clothes. It was the zero visibility that had me worried.

In any case, we made it through safely, and reached our next checkpoint, Helen Lake at 2AM. Helen Lake is not an actual lake, but a large snowfield used primarily as a camping area. Even though it was still dark out, the site was lit, and I could see people packing up to get an early start up the mountain as well. 

Red Banks

From Helen Lake, we headed up the Red Banks; the steepest and most strenuous part of the climb. By this point, our pace has slowed significantly because I couldn’t keep up. The snow was no longer compact; it was powder, and every time I took a step, the snow would fall out from under me. As a result, I had to exert additional energy to lift my foot from out of the snow. I tried hard to dig my crampons into the snow to get stable footing, but it was no use. I was too exhausted. 

The dreaded Red Banks.

To make matters worse, at 12,000 feet elevation, there was only 65% oxygen available. We were going too high too fast for my body causing my altitude sickness to worsen. I felt dizzy and faint, and it was difficult to walk straight. The last thing I wanted was to lose consciousness and fall off the mountain, and drag everyone down with me, so we stopped more often so that I could rest, even though it put us significantly behind schedule. 

The “Summit”

After seven grueling hours, we eventually we reached the top of the Red Banks at 8:45AM. We were close to the summit; there was only 1,000 feet elevation to go. To my shock, Lauren said that this would be the highest that we would go.

View from the top of the Red Banks.

No matter how much I pleaded, it was no use. We had already been climbing for over eight hours, and at the pace we were going, it would take another four hours to summit. We also had to allot time to descend the mountain. Theoretically, that would have put us at a total of 22 hours of climbing.

There’s a limit to how much the body can take, and with my altitude sickness and exhuastion, it was only a matter of time before mine would give out. If we continued on, I would be endangering my life, and everyone else's as well. To my bitter disappointment, we stopped at 13,200 ft.

The look of defeat.

It was very emotional for me. I felt as though I had let the Send It Foundation, and everyone else down. I gave it everything I had, and it still wasn’t good enough. If there was ever a time where I felt like a complete failure, it was at this moment. 

Having Andrew by my side made all the difference. He reminded me that we came to Mt. Shasta to test ourselves, and to push our limits. There was no shame because we pushed beyond what we thought we could do, and we still achieved a great result, despite not reaching our stretch goal. We were flying above the clouds, and the world was at our feet. 

Andrew giving me a boost of confidence.


Our amazing guide, Lauren Seymore.

Wow!

The Descend

As we descended down the mountain, my legs started to give way. Luckily, we found several well-defined glissade paths. We removed our crampons, sat down on our buttocks, and grasped the ice axe with one hand on the head, and the shaft with the other, and began our rapid descent down the slope. It was such a thrilling experience. After we spent seven hours climbing from Helen Lake to Red Banks, it only took us 45 minutes to descend!

Glissading 101.

Andrew glissading like a pro.

Made it to the bottom in one piece. 

During the entire weekend, we never saw any signs of wildlife. As we walked back to the Bunny Flat trail head, we were surprised to hear the mountain chickadee sing its song. These birds are known colloquially as cheeseburger birds because their call sounds like "cheese-bur-ger." It's also the sound of Tahoe. I couldn't help think that it was a sign that Jamie was watching over me. 

Thank You

This journey was truly life changing. Four years ago, I couldn’t even walk. Never in my wildest dream did I think I would be physically strong enough to even attempt a fourteener. Climbing Mt. Shasta was a reflection of how my life has been since being diagnosed with cancer; it has been a constant battle of digging deep within myself to push forward towards the impossible.

Thank you Send It Foundation, and The Fifth Season for this incredible experience!

Check us out in the Shasta Mountain Guide Climb Report