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| Home | Back Pages | Illustrations | Author Interview | Netshow Links |
At five AM we left the apartment for the Big Sur coast. We drank coffee on the way down, about a half hour drive. The cliff side coastal road was wet and the air thick with fog. After parking on the side of Hwy. 1 I put on my pack, stuffed with a camera and some water, and we started our way up the trail. The trail head is at 130 ft. of elevation and begins in an open field of grass and wildflowers. Very soon after, Aric and I were slowly tramping uphill in the mist and darkness. My headlamp illuminated a patch of ground only a few meters across, the thick mist creating a soft boundary to the small, room sized area visible to us as we climbed.
After half an hour of making our way uphill, the fog began to take on a faint, bluish aspect. Twilight. My headlamp was still required to see the contours of the rugged trail, but there was now a little light in the gloaming. We could see some color in the wildflowers and in the heather on the side of the trail, although our visibility was limited to an area the size of a small motel room. The air was a fuzzy, slate gray color and the heather a muted shade of green, but the flowers intruded the somber backdrop in watercolors with bursts of bright purple, yellow, orange, and blue. The delicate scent of the plants, and the misty, haggard beauty of the place reminded me of some ancient, idyllic scene from old Scotland.
There was a reason Aric and I had agreed to start so early. We wanted to see the sunrise from the top of the ridge we were hiking. We passed through 1000 feet, still shrouded in the pre dawn mist, worried that the fog might go all the way to the top. The marine air made for nice, cool, uphill hiking, at about 60 degrees, but would definitely make sunrise a disappointment if it continued much higher. I didn't get up at 4:30 in the morning to be disappointed!
Looking uptrail, I pinned a small rabbit in the beam of my headlamp. It was gray with a white cotton tail. Probably a juvenile since it didn't appear full sized. The rabbit stood motionless on the side of the trail as we passed. It didn't move until I looked away, allowing the beam of my light to release it. I decided that no matter what the outcome of sunrise, I would not be disappointed with this morning's hike. How could I be, what with the mist, the flowers, the challenge of hiking steeply uphill, the rabbits in the heather, and the adventure shared with my friend.
I stopped momentarily and asked Aric if he'd like to pause for a drink. I was carrying the only pack between us, with a litre bottle of water for each of us. I turned around so Aric could reach into my pack and produce the water bottles. As I did, I noticed the faintest outline of the ridge's crest just discernible in the fog. The top was another 400 vertical feet up so I knew we were very close to the top of the fog layer. I decided to keep the knowledge to myself so that Aric would be more surprised when we climbed out of the mist. Speaking of Aric, he had drank a good portion of his entire water supply during our stop, while I only had a few gulps. He's a lot bigger than I am, so perhaps he gets thirstier, but I knew he'd be out of water before we finished.
We pressed on up the hill. I'm not sure when we popped out above the fog. I was just tramping along when I noticed there was a visible horizon in the pre dawn twilight. It was quite beautiful - a thin line of soft pink against a faintly glowing, blue backdrop. I pointed the horizon out to Aric and we stopped again to enjoy it. We were looking to our left, out over the Pacific. The sun would be rising to our right, but looking that way I could only see the silhouette of the final hilltop of our route. To either side of the hilltop high clouds were visible as phosphorescent patches of bright gold illuminated by the sun, still just below our horizon and behind the hilltop. It was interesting in that just a few steps the weather changed so dramatically. Now that we were in clear visibility, we also felt the temperature jump up 15 degrees and the air dry out nicely.
Aric and I resumed walking, now at a faster pace. There were only perhaps ten minutes or so before we got to the top, but we wanted to make sure we got there before the sun did. For the final approach to the top of the ridge the trail turned right, headed directly for the the spot on the horizon that the sun would soon come up. Our timing was perfect. Moments after we arrived at a little outcropping of rock at the 1800 foot summit, still huffing and puffing from the last steep part of the hike, the sun broke the horizon. It was magnificent!
Aric and I were on a ridge top, poking up out of a sea of clouds. Around us, in the golden light, were other island peaks - some considerably higher than ours - but our view held more sky above and cloud tops below than terra firma underfoot. We saw the bluish shadow of our hilltop, and shadows of the other hills around us cast in elongated relief on the cotton like clouds which formed a solid blanket over the Pacific. I felt such joy and satisfaction in having hiked up so far, so early. Nobody else but us made the effort to get there, so Aric and I were the only ones to reap the reward of the hilltop's still and placid peacefulness and it's visual splendor at sunrise. I was compelled to give Aric a big hug and a little smooch for being there with me.
We lingered at the
top for perhaps half an hour. After taking a few pics of our spectacular
view,
we
settled on a rock formation to eat Powerbars, drink some more water, and
bask in the warm sun. The only sound was that of the invisible surf. 1800
feet below us and smothered in the clouds the surf was audible only as
soft, muffled, white noise. We rested there a while, then gathered up our
things to head back down. I paused behind a rock to relieve myself of that
big cup of coffee from earlier in the morning, then hefted my pack, grabbed
my trekking pole, and set off down the hill, this time letting Aric lead
the way.
Not ten minutes into our descent we started noticing a brilliant, 360 degree rainbow on the cloud tops ahead, with our shadows cast neatly in the center. We goofed around for a couple of minutes making shadow puppets with our arms, then took a few pictures of ourselves surrounded in an angelic, sunlit mist. Back underway, we plunged into the fog in moments. It was now much brighter, but still cool and damp. I could see considerably more of the brush trail side, but little beyond several meters. It was perhaps another 45 minutes before we dropped out of the bottom of the cloud layer at 500 feet. The fog no longer reached all the way to sea level as it had when we started our hike. Suddenly, we had a clear, if overcast, view of the Pacific smashing against the rocks on the shore. It was still a good ways down and the cliff side roadbed of highway one appeared very narrow. It was 15 more minutes of work to loose the final 300 feet.
Our hike ended three
hours after it began. Aric and I were a bit tired, but certainly nowhere
near exhaustion. We decided that a big breakfast and lots of coffee were
just the thing. Half an hour later we were back in Monterey, seated at
the best breakfast restaurant in town, sipping our coffee, and reflecting
on our accomplishment. I wondered just how many people having breakfast
with us that morning had seen and done so much already? I stretched and
yawned, looking forward to a mid morning nap after Aric left. Dawn is a
magical time - but why did they have to put it so dang early in the day?!
I still hate waking up to alarms.
Sunday, August 16, 1998
I cleaned myself up in time for cocktail hour at five. I was the designated driver for the night, so my cocktail consisted of soda water with lime. Grandma is an interesting person. She is my Father's Mother. Her husband, a Navy Officer in WW2, died a few years ago leaving their considerable estate in her hands. Being from the depression era, she just doesn't know how to spend money. Its quite frustrating to know a lady of her years and means (and size) would rather be crammed into a coach seat on the flight out, than spring for a first class ticket. Grandma could afford to fly somewhere first class every day for the rest of her life and barely dent her net worth. She can be a very nice lady, but its beyond me why she won't enjoy what she has before she dies and it all goes to taxes.
Our dinner party consisted of myself, my Grandmother, my Mother and Father, and my Brother. My Brother lives with my parents right now. He's trying to figure out what he's going to do with his life now that he's four years out of college and six months out of work. He's educated as a recording engineer and has some experience. He's worked for 20th Century Fox on sound, and done some recording for the Beach Boys. He also had a band and used to play in the LA area for a few years. That's his real passion. He wants to be a Rock Star when he grows up. Trouble is, time is passing by. He needs a new day job in a city he and his band can be 'discovered' in. LA didn't work out. There's just too many future Rock Stars waiting tables there.
Dinner conversation revolved mostly around the weather. Its a nice, safe topic. Grandma disapproves of a grown grandson living at home with no job. She has also never been happy with my decision to quit the family business - i.e.. the Navy - a few years ago. I was the fourth generation eldest son in my family to be a Navy Officer. I started as an Ensign and quit just as I was being promoted to Lieutenant. No, talking about work at the dinner table would not have been a good idea at all.
After I drove everyone back to my parent's house, I said my good byes and headed back to my apartment. It was only ten O'clock, but I have another alarm day looming in my future. Tomorrow I need to get up bright and early for work. I'll be going out to sea on a research ship for the day!
The R/V Point Sur isn't a big ship, but its too big to call a boat. It has cabins for a crew of eight plus as many as 14 scientists. It has a galley (i.e. kitchen) to feed the full compliment three meals a day, clothes washers, showers, etc. It can operate at sea for weeks at a time. My trip today was only a day trip, but I have been out to sea on the Point Sur as long as two weeks. I go as a junior member of the science team. That means I get to operate some of the research equipment - usually in the middle of the night when others are sleeping. For this day cruise there would be little actual research conducted. Our mission was to transit three hours out of port to an area where the ship had left three clusters of Oceanography instruments anchored on the sea floor several months earlier. The instruments had collected their fill of data on currents, temperatures, salinity, and sedimentation. It was time to retrieve them so that the PhDs back at the lab could interpret the data and tell the world wonderful new things about the nature of the sea. My job was to help get the massive (5000 lb + ) rigs on the rolling deck and recover the delicate electronics attached.
Normally, when I first arrive aboard the ship I take the first hour or two to assemble and tie down computers and other temporary electronics which we bring aboard, then go below to make my rack (bed) and get my personal gear stowed so that it won't roll around the stateroom. For this short 10 hour trip there is no reason to bother with a stateroom at all, and since we are merely retrieving previously deployed moorings and not collecting extensive data there is no need for the computers either. For once, all I have to do is stand on the deck with a cup of coffee and watch the harbor slip by as we leave port. Today is gray and cool, about 60 degrees on Monterey Bay. The ship begins to roll and pitch a little bit as we pass beyond the harbor buoy. The motion doesn't bother me in terms of nausea, but its just enough to rock me into a relaxed, drowsy state. I decide to refill my coffee cup.
While crossing the Bay at a leisurely 10 knots we have a meeting with the two science teams (one from my lab, one from another owned by USGS) and the ship's deck crew. The ship's crew will operate the cranes and heavy lift winches. The devices we are retrieving consist of a large metal buoy at the top, weighing perhaps 1000 lbs., and a 2000lbs. anchor at the bottom. In between is a length of cable, which is quite heavy itself. Attached to the cable with heavy metal shackles are the various oceanography instruments, which are usually about 50lbs each and three or four feet tall. A shackle at the bottom, just below a submerged float, is capable of releasing its hold on the anchor when the correct sound signal is sent to it which will allow the float to rise to the surface, bringing the bottom end of the cable with it. A meeting with the crew is important to discuss how each segment of the cable will be brought aboard and how to decouple the instruments from it safely.
My job is simple enough. As the thermistors come on deck, a guy from the USGS team whom I've never met before, will release them from the cable shackles with an impact wrench and hand them off to me. I'm pleased to hear this because he's definitely the cutest guy on the ship and its a good excuse to talk with him. I have about a minute between each thermistor (total of 12) to walk them across the deck and plunge them into a bath of soapy fresh water. Then, while the others work on tying down the buoys and getting ready for the next mooring, I get to spend an hour scrubbing all the barnacles and seaweed off of the instruments until they're as clean as the day they left the lab six months ago.
The planning meeting is over soon enough and there's only an hour to kill before we get to the first site. Fortunately, its lunchtime! This ship has the best cook you'll ever find at sea. He's not a cook, he's a chef. You see, my hometown thrives on the upscale tourist trade. Its full of Michelin four and five star restaurants - you know, the kind you can't get out for less than $50 per person and when all is said and done you still think its worth it. The ship's cook, Charles, used to be head chef at one of these places, then moved to Hawaii and ran the kitchen at the Heat in Maui. Eventually, he got tired of the stressful and hectic life of an executive chef and decided to become a simple ship's cook. He's about 6'6" and 300lbs. His galley has a sign saying "Never trust a skinny chef." There's nothing to fear in his galley. The spread of Caesar salad, clam chowder, herb roasted cornish game hen, garlic mashed potatoes, and lightly steamed fresh vegetables was perfect! I felt sorry for those too seasick to eat.
The recovery operations went exactly as we planned, until we came to the third and last site about at about 3:00pm. When Marla, the deck leader, sent the release command to the last system nothing happened. We spent the next hour and a half looking for the float and resending the release command. Unfortunately the buoy never made it to the surface. At 4:30pm we had to break off the search in order to make port before 7:30 - a two and half hour extension on our planned ship time. The mooring will have to be searched for later, using a robot or side scan sonar.
There was little to do on the three hour ride to port than enjoy the view. I walked up to the bow of the ship and sat on the deck in the sun. The wind was blowing from behind, at about the same speed as the ship was moving. This created the very pleasant and unusual condition of quiet, calm air on the bow. I could hear the water part against the hull, and fold back over into itself. Seabirds were all around. I didn't spy any whales this trip, its a bit early for the migration, but I was hoping to see some pelagic whales. Sitting on the bow, I passed the time reading, thinking, and watching. I also made a few phone calls. Yes, believe it or not, mobile phones work on a ship as long as you are in sight of land. Brent enjoyed a phone call from the deck of a ship before he had to leave for his night shift. I'm such a show off. :-P
I made it back home
just before 8:00pm. After a quick shower and change of clothes, I drove
over to my parent's house for a last visit with Grandma. She's flying out
tomorrow. At least I won't have to spend so much time at my parent's house
next week.
Tuesday, August 18, 1998
I've known Alex (accent on the second syllable please!) for four years now. When we first met, she was interested in dating me. I was both pleased and worried. No one had ever shown interest in dating me before. I was happily surprised when someone finally did. I'd never even considered it possible before, but Alex made her intentions clear, she liked me and wanted to go out with me. I liked her too, as a friend, and I'd say if I were more inclined to date females she'd be quite good for me. We have a lot of fun together. Of course, that's not the way things are with me which is why I was worried when I found out she liked me.
I used to have a terrible reoccurring nightmare, perhaps once a month. It came to me for years. In the dream I find myself standing at the front of a large Catholic Church filled with my relatives, and my parent's friends. Before me is a priest, and beside me is a beautiful girl in a wedding dress. She isn't anyone from the real world, but in my dream I know her and like her a great deal. It is an idyllic wedding scene for all but me. I feel a rising sense of panic as the priest nears the part where I'm expected to say "I do". How can I do this terrible thing to such a lovely girl whom I care about? How would she feel if she knew I wasn't attracted to her? How could I use her just to keep up appearances for my family? How could I destroy my life by marrying someone I simply wasn't compatible with? The dream never got as far as the vows. I always woke up from shear fright before then. Since I accepted my same sex orientation the nightmare has not returned, but I am sometimes reminded of it when I see Alexis. She wasn't the woman in the dream, but I often think that she is a good example of a specific woman I'm not able to marry.
I cleaned my apartment in anticipation of Alexis' arrival. I'm normally rather tidy any ways, but I sometimes let little piles build up here and there. I took care of them (that is to say I hid the piles in a closet) and cleaned the bathroom. Women appreciate it when you clean the bathroom. It sparkled when she arrived, about 10pm. She gave me a big hug when she came in the door. No, she's not hoping to go out with me anymore. We're way past that. She spent six months teaching me to check out other guys and be comfortable telling her about it. Not long after that she called to tell me she had kissed a girl! The irony was exquisite. She's had several girlfriends since then. I think she still considers herself bi, but on a heavy lesbian swing at the moment.
Alex and I sat up talking
for a couple of hours. We spoke mostly about relationships since she's
having some troubles in that area right now. I offered what help I could,
mostly by just listening. She's a big girl and knows that dating is a rough
game and that the stakes are high. What could I really have to say in the
way of advice? Not much. But I care about what is going on in her life
and I tried to make sure she knew that as I listened. It was after midnight,
our drinks long since empty, when she tucked in on the couch and I went
to bed.
Wednesday, August 19, 1998
My dinner meeting ran long and caused me to loose interest in going out for drinks, but it was a good meeting. Here we are in the middle of August and I just attended my first snow skiing organizational meeting! I'm a volunteer snow skiing tour guide for a local recreational charter shop. It seems early to think about skiing, but we need a lot of time to recruit a new class of guides (about 20 new guides for the 1998/1999 season) and get them fully trained in a wide range of required skills prior to the first scheduled trips to Lake Tahoe in early December. They'll need to know skills like tuning skis, setting bindings, driving large commercial vans in deep snow, first aid & cpr, and how to be helpful and friendly to clients without letting them get too far out of line. In our meeting tonight all the old heads got together to lay out a recruiting and training schedule, and form the basis for each week's lesson plans. There's a lot of work to do before we're ready to take people to the mountains in four months. The meeting definitely got me psyched for the skiing season! And there's still a lot of racing left to do this year too. You know, I sure do love life. There's just so much to see and do, I don't know how I'm supposed to fit it all in.
After dinner we all went to see a movie - The Avengers. If you haven't seen reruns of the old 60s TV show you might not like the movie. Brent and Aric didn't think much of it. I'm a bit of a film snob, so I shouldn't have liked it either, but instead I loved it. It was soooooo Avengers! It had the music, the odd psychedelic and partially paranoid mood, and the over-the-top badguy. It was filled with subtle acknowledgments of past episodes, and in a wonderful visual pun even gave a nod to another 1960s British TV classic - The Prisoner. What more can I say? It wasn't a great film, but it was a lot of fun for me!
I was back in Monterey by noon. I decided I wanted to continue with a restful weekend for a change. Since I was due at my parent's house for a birthday dinner out with the family for my Mother at 4:00, I decided to bring over my book and read in the sun on the patio a few hours early. I relaxed in the sun, and proceeded to burn myself!
Later, my Brother, Father, Mother, and I went to dinner. It was a typical affair for my family. I don't think we actually discussed El Nino, but we might as well have. I spent more time with my brother talking about this weekend's Grand Prix from Budapest than anything. I think my Mom was happy to have her whole family there. I suppose that was the point.
Today, I'm wondering if I expected too much. I did what was right. I told them the truth. That doesn't really obligate them to do anything at all though, does it? I can't honor my parents and expect quid pro quo. I just have to honor them for who they are.
Aric arrived about 5:30 with a load of camping equipment in his truck. Our plan was to inventory it, load what we needed into my car, then go shopping for any missing items. His equipment was definitely set up for car camping. It was bulky and heavy, but since we wouldn't be packing all the stuff in, that was just fine. A big cooler and gas grill meant we'd be eating well - fresh meat and veggies instead of reconstituted cardboard. It didn't take long to get my car trunk filled up with stuff. After that we were off to dinner at Chevy's and then to buy our groceries. The order was important. It gets expensive to shop for groceries on an empty stomach. That, and I was really in the mood for a nice margarita.
Shopping, eating, and packing was all done by 10:00 pm. I was grateful to be through because we intended to rise about 5:00 am and be on the road to our destination by 6:00. Aric slept on the couch, an unfortunate place to sleep if you are a light sleeper. Its right next to my hamster cage. Hamsters are nocturnal. I slept in my bedroom although I think it was quite late before I fell asleep. Too keyed up for the trip I suppose.
5:30 am. "I hate you", says Aric, when I wake him up. No worries, I'm getting exited about the drive to come. I like long drives, keeping a schedule, navigating a new route. If Aric's a little grumpy, that's just fine. He can sleep while I drive. By the time Aric finishes with his shower he's in a good mood too. After getting dressed, we both load our last minute items into the car. Its as full as I've ever had it. Good thing we're not staying out for four days! We make a quick stop for doughnuts and then hit the road in earnest. Its 6:30 am, and I notice the sunrise has begun.
9:00 am. Our destination is Lassen Volcanic National Park. We've traveled through the east San Francisco Bay area and are now in farm country just west of Sacramento. I've got a rather sour stomach from last night's Mexican food, I think. Seems like a good time for breakfast at Denny's. Its nice to eat a little food, but the relief of the rest room turns out to be more important to me. I hope this doesn't continue the whole weekend!
11:00 am. California's Central Valley becomes narrower as we bisect it, heading North. To our left, the Coastal Ranges move in, and to the right the Sierra Nevada begin to encroach as a dark band rising above the horizon. The drive has been going smoothly, Aric and I yammering on about music, politics, sports, and the like. I notice that there's an odd cloud formation directly ahead where I-5 reaches the vanishing point before us. Its a lone thunderhead. Very curious. A few minutes later and the cloud becomes more resolved and defined. Its no cloud at all, but rather the snow clad volcanic cone of Mt. Shasta! That tells me we are nearing our destination, so I look ahead and to the right searching the black ridge of the Sierra. Sure enough, our goal has come into view. Rising distinctly above the ridge and the tree line is the dome of Mt. Lassen. At 10,490 ft. Lassen Peak is not entirely capped in permanent snow like its bigger sister, Shasta. Here and there, bright fields of snow are clearly visible even from this distance. I'm pleased, because the snow should make our ascent of the peak tomorrow much more scenic. Aric and I are still chattering excitedly about the mountain as I exit from the freeway and we begin our way up the windy park road to our campsite.
12:30 pm. I love gadgets.
One of my favorite gadgets is my digital watch with a built in altimeter.
I've been watching it frequently and calling out the altitudes to Aric
as we wind our way into the mountains. I'm not sure if he's annoyed or
amused by it, but I assume the latter. We find our camp ground very close
to the park entrance. There is a parking lot next to the public rest room
and about 20 sites scattered through the nearby woods, linked by a short
walking trail. We've selected this camp ground because we thought it might
be a little quieter than the campsites that you can park your car or RV
in. The trick works. There are perhaps three of the available sites being
used. We select a nice site and make several trips to the car to unload
our gear. Its hot work, the sun is shining and the air temperature is a
good 85 degrees. We decide to get our site
set up and eat a snack before going on a short hike to stretch our legs
in preparation for tomorrow's ascent of Lassen Peak.
6:30 pm. The day hike
was fun. The trail head was right at our campground and took us on a route
down a pine filled valley to a stream fed by a spectacular waterfall. The
hike gave us a chance to find out how well our lungs would work in the
mountains too. Neither Aric nor I had any real trouble with the air. We
both found ourselves a little more short of breath on the uphill segments
than we were accustomed to at sea level, but our 6000 ft. elevation wasn't
taxing at all. By the end of the walk we'd forgotten about it all together.
After our walk we decided to go for a short drive up the park road for
a look at our goal.
We
drove past a beautiful blue lake ringed with snow and ice on the way. When
Lassen Peak finally came into view I was a bit disappointed. It didn't
look all that big. I was hoping for something a little more dramatic. Still,
its flanks were draped in snow that would clearly still be there when the
new snows started to fall in October, and the ridges were barren heaps
of rock and rubble. It was clearly going to be far more of a challenge
than any hill I'd ever hiked up around Monterey.
As the sun sets, I
find myself heating a pot of beans over a liquid propane fueled stove.
Aric is cooking our steak on the gas grill. Something bounces out from
behind a tree. Its a fox! Aric and I are astonished. Just before our day
hike we'd read a sign about an endangered species of fox - the Sierra Red
Fox - that lived in the area. 
The
sign said it was rare and we didn't expect to see one. The fox trots right
up to Aric. Its a rather skinny fellow, about knee high, more brown than
red. It's got a classic long fox snout and big fox ears. The fox is wearing
a bulky looking radio transponder collar and, sadly, it is obviously comfortable
around humans. Aric does his best to ignore it while I go for the cameras.
I get a few 35 mm stills, although I know I'm pushing the limits of the
fading light, and then turn on the videocam in its special night-vision
mode. (I love gadgets, remember?) I get some great shots of the fox as
it weaves around our camp. It moves a lot like a dog, but with that special
loping quality you expect of a wild canine.
After a few minutes of allowing the fox to unwittingly pose for pictures we decide that it would probably be best to chase it away. Its already way too domesticated for its own good and we don't want to contribute to that. I clap loudly and it backs off to the edge of camp, but still won't leave. Aric decides to throw some small stones in front of it. That does the trick! The fox turns and lopes off into the woods. A few minutes later a park Ranger comes by to ask us if we've seen a fox reported in the area. He notes our description of the fox, thanks us for our help, and then leaves in the direction we indicated the fox went.
9:00 pm. Its pretty
dark. We are in a valley surrounded by high ridges. For a time, the ridges
were glowing a salmon pink color even though our valley was plunged in
darkness. Now the same ridges, high enough to block any view of Lassen
Peak, are also obstructing any any light that might have come from far
off towns low on the horizon. Aric and I wash our pots and dishes in the
cold water of the public rest room and store our remaining food in sealed
containers inside the car. We don't want food nearby the campsite - food
might attract bears or a return visit from the fox. I'm not an experienced
camper. This is my first trip of this sort in years. I'm planning on making
more trips in the future, but I'm doing a lot of learning on this one.
I discover that there isn't very much to do after dark, and darkness comes
early. I try to read a little while, by headlamp, but grow drowsy. The
mountains are so quiet at night. All I hear is the faint background noise
of the stream deep in the valley below. I decide to turn out my light.
Its probably bothering Aric who's been trying to sleep for the last half
hour. Besides, we have to get up very early tomorrow if we're to watch
the sunrise from high on Lassen Peak.
Sunday, August 30, 1998
Next, I make sure Aric is awake by starting a gas lamp. I hear the words "I hate you" waft out of the tent as the light comes to life so I'm satisfied he's up. Now that there's some light, I start a pot of coffee brewing before dressing for the hike. It doesn't take long to splash some cold (burrr!) water on my face from a two gallon jug and to get my teeth clean. Since its relatively warm we both choose to wear hiking shorts. On top, I put on a poly turtle neck shirt and a fleece pullover. I loaded my backpack with a wind shell before bed last night, just in case it gets very windy or cold up higher. It also holds my 35 mm and video cameras, two litres of drinking water, a powerbar, and a few handy emergency items. After we are both dressed we breakfast on powerbars and the strange, coffee-like hot beverage that our pot has produced.
5:10 am. After a fifteen minute drive from our camp to the trail head, we put on our packs, film a short introduction on video, and set out up the mountain. The fist part of the hike is on firm rock, switching back twice, then entering a tree line on top of the terminal moraine. Its still very dark and we are walking by the illumination of my headlamp. We pop out the far side of the tree line to find a huge field of level snow and ice in front of us. Looking to our left and up towards the summit we can see in the starlight that the snow field turns upward and steeply rises most of the way up the mountain. Mt. Lassen does not boast any permanent snow, but after last Winter's El Nino snowfall its safe to say that this mini-glacier will still be here when the snows begin to fall again in late October. We turn left and hike uphill on the clear ground between the mini-glacier and the tree line. Our path gets steeper and less defined by the minute. Soon the pitch becomes very steep and loose. I ask Aric if it feels very much like a tourist trail to him anymore. We agree that it does not and start to look around for the trail we are supposed to be on.
5:30 am. We see nothing
that remotely looks like a trail and turn around to begin descending
in the darkness. To our right is a thick line of trees, to our left is
the big snowfield. Strange about the late season mini-glacier though, it
seems to have two dark lines running across it's 200 ft. width down below.
I ask Aric if he thinks its possible that we were intended to cross the
ice at one of those points? Doh! Yes, he thinks its obvious that crossing
the ice is the way to go. It looks a little slippery to me, but the dark
bands are down in a flat area so there is no real danger in slipping. Given
that our only other choice is to wait here until the morning light, we
decide to go for it. 
Our
trekking poles make it an easy crossing. No worries! On the other side
a very clear and well defined trail is there to meet us. Now that we have
regained the path of righteousness again, we stop talking and set into
a good pace up the mountain to make up for lost time.
6:15 am. Aric is able
to maintain a faster pace than I. He's bigger than me. I've told
him to forge ahead so he keep up a comfortable stride. Our route is now
taking us up the crest of a ridge, switching back and forth over loose
gravel. There are no more trees this high, just rock. On either side of
the ridge are steep cirques holding mini-glaciers, the one to our left
being the one we have already crossed. I catch up to Aric waiting for me
at small flat area beside the trail. My altimeter says 9200ft. The colors
of the sunrise are gracing the Eastern horizon. As our route is taking
us up the southern side of the east face we have a wonderful view over
the Sierra of the burgeoning colors. 
I
stop with Aric to get some video and a still shot of the dawn. To me, sunrise
is always more impressive than sunset. My theory is that the colors are
more spectacular to night adapted eyes. I stash the cameras and continue
to hike upwards ahead of Aric. I'm sure he'll catch up shortly.
6:35 am. I make a short
stop to wait for Aric, and then together we watch the sun break the horizon.
Now that its brighter, we can see our goal above quite clearly. Its difficult
to judge how far the summit is just by looking. Its still up there a ways,
but just how big are those rocky pinnacles at the top anyway? 
Its
getting rather windy now too, and colder. I'm sweating from the work of
climbing so I decide to remove my fleece and put on my wind shell instead.
That turns out to be much better because it lets me radiate body heat away
while keeping the gathering wind out. While I've got my pack open it makes
sense to take a few more pictures. On our present switch back the trail
head parking area is in view far below. I point out to Aric that another
car has joined mine, although they are so far below I can't tell which
is which. He thinks I'm crazy because there are not just two cars there,
but rather four. I look again, and sure enough he's right. Where only seconds
before I saw two cars, I now see four! It can only be the first effects
of thin mountain air on my brain. We haven't been panting as we climb,
but the lack of oxygen is noticeable if I try to form too long a sentence
and say it all in one breath. This is the first breathing problem I've
encountered.
6:50 am. Aric has gone
off ahead again, and I continue to plod up the mountain alone. Its chilly,
about 50F, and the wind is blowing a constant 25mph. I'm well above all
the surrounding peaks now, my view consisting of mostly sky. Rounding a
corner, the view to the West is revealed, a sprawling panorama of California's
central valley far below. Cast above the dark valley, on nothing more substantial
than air, I see the pyramidal shadow of Lassen Peak. 
Its
a stunning view which momentarily takes my mind off the work and makes
me appreciate how far up the mountain I've already come. As I continue
on my way I think the summit can't be that much higher.
Around the next bend
Aric is standing at the end of the trail. But he's not standing on the
summit. I'm a bit aggravated that the thing would just peter out
here. The ridge has become so narrow that we have met up with a mini-glacier
again. This time, high on the mountain, it is not level but rather a steep
and long drop of half a mile or so down to a bed of scree. I might consider
a downhill ski descent of it in fresh powder, but it would certainly be
rated as an expert only run then, and near suicide in the hard packed and
icy state it is in now. There's no apparent place to cross it here. Without
technical climbing gear (i.e. rope, ice axe, crampons) it isn't remotely
safe. We are not about to accept defeat just yet and decide to scramble
up the rocks skirting the edge of the ice, since up is the direction of
our ultimate goal. To our satisfaction, about 30ft higher we find a route
cut into the ice that is relatively safe to cross. The consequences of
a slip are still daunting and add a thrill to the adventure. This was supposed
to be just a hike, but it seems more and more like mountaineering with
each turn! I'm loving it. 77:15
am. Aric and I are walking together now. We pop up over a rise and find
ourselves on a snowy, level area about the size of a football field. The
horizon around us is almost unbroken for 360 degrees. For the first time
today we can see North, to the snow clad peak of Mt. Shasta. We are standing
on the southern edge of Mt. Lassen's volcanic caldera. All that's left
for us to do is cross it and scramble up the lava pinnacles on the far
lip. Before the final effort on the pinnacles we stop for a picture
7:30 am. I find myself
clutching the top of the highest rock pinnacle on Lassen Peak for dear
life. It didn't look like much from the side we approached, the caldera.
Just a 50ft high cluster of rocks to scramble up.
The last ten minutes
of scrambling up the rocks proved to give me the greatest affects of altitude.
I still wasn't panting or gasping for air - Mt. Lassen is just not that
high - but if I climbed too fast, I found myself very dizzy. Twice I stopped
short to rest. Scrambling up rocks and loose pumice gravel isn't a great
place to be dizzy even at sea level! The air wasn't much colder than before,
in the upper 40s perhaps. It was still plenty windy, but nothing unbearable.
Aric and I had the summit all to ourselves for at least half an hour. We
rested, took pictures and video, and enjoyed the view.
8:30 am. The descent is much simpler than
our hike up the mountain because now our route is well known to us and
its bright daylight. Most of the trail is just a shelf cut into the loose
rock and gravel. Aric thinks its a neat idea to shortcut several of the
switchbacks by merely tromping down the steep gravel with the aid of his
pole. I follow him a few times, trying to keep up, but it bothers me to
contribute to erosion in such a flagrant way. Despite my best effort to
contain my irritation I can hear it in my voice when I ask Aric if he intends
to shortcut the entire route. I must be getting tired, usually I'm quite
good at hiding my feelings. He gets the message and starts taking the full
trail.
We pass assorted hikers on their way up.
Many don't look dressed for the weather on the upper mountain. Maybe its
warming up there too. Its definitely getting warmer down low. Its nearly
70F when we reach the parking area.
10:00 am. The parking area is full of RVs
and cars. Many families are getting ready to start their hike up the hill.
Most don't look like they are capable of getting to the summit. Some have
small children, others are wearing only sneakers. Even in boots with a
trekking pole Aric slipped on an ice crossing during the descent, still
high on the mountain. He bent his pole in the act of catching himself.
When we finally arrive back at the camp site,
I feel quite tired. I'm ready for a nice nap. I chug-a-lug some water,
then strip to my boxers and take a splash bath to get the dust and dirt
off. This time the cool water feels good. A few minutes later I'm back
in the tent and already drifting off to sleep with vivid images of the
morning's adventure flooding my preconscious mind.
This morning we woke
without the bother of an alarm at about 6:30. By 7:30 we'd finished breaking
down the camp and loading the car. I wasn't sad to leave as I am on most
trips. In fact, I kind of felt like leaving mid day yesterday, after our
summit hike and nap. I had already achieved my goal, what was the point
in sticking around? I was there to see if I could measure up to the task
of hiking up a 10,000 mountain and to learn some necessary camping skills
that would enable me to continue the challenge of climbing mountains that
are progressively higher. Aric's goals were different from mine. He simply
enjoyed a relaxing stay in the mountains. I think we could have spent the
weekend hiking in river valleys and it would have been the same to him.
I saw no point in denying Aric his satisfaction, so I never suggested leaving
early. Maybe I could learn something beneficial from his attitude too.
I'm sure my attitude
about the outdoors must offend a lot of naturalists and hiking/camping
purists. I certainly cherish the quiet of the mountains, the inspiring
scenery, the feeling of being removed from the pressures of the modern
world. But what I don't have positive or negative feelings about is the
self-sufficiency of outdoor recreation. I'd just as soon have the whole
thing catered. Aric thought that my idea was an affront to the spirit of
the mountains. If I have to pack in every ounce of sustenance to get me
to a summit, so be it. But if I could have a staff to set up camp, cook
my meals, clean my dishes, and start my campfire while I hiked or sat around
reading, so much the better!
with
Mt. Shasta in the caldera's snows.
But when I put my foot on the last little platform and hauled myself up to
the top, I found myself staring down into the maw of a precipitous 2000
ft drop! I hadn't felt acrophobia all morning, but now, in my moment
of triumph, I was panic stricken. How terribly embarrassing. I gently,
carefully, lowered myself from the highest rock, back down onto the flat
gravely area about the size of a small room that comprised the summit.
I knew I'd have to get back up there for a picture, but for now I was contented
to eat a powerbar and drink some water while my heart rate settled back
down.
Two other hikers arrived as we were preparing to leave. I'm glad we started
early enough to beat the crowd. We stayed just a little longer to reflect
on our accomplishment. I then grabbed a baseball sized rock and threw it
in my pack and we started our descent. I hope that rock will be the first
in a large collection of summit rocks.
Without the pole it's likely he would have fallen a long way and been badly injured
if not killed. Mt. Lassen is not that difficult a hike, but it is more
than just an afternoon family outing in the condition we found it today.
Monday, August 31, 1998
Our summit day wrapped
up with a short hike to a volcanic area after the heat of the day woke
us from our nap. We enjoyed a dinner of stew and rolls. I bought an ice
tea at the ranger's station to have a flavored drink with dinner. We brought
only water knowing it was the healthiest thing for us. I decided that I
just didn't want to go three days without any flavored drinks as much as
I like water. I wasn't very hard to get to sleep after doing the dishes
and getting a head start on packing the car.