erugs
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If our vacation had ended with just Lassen, it would have been a great one. But as I wrote earlier we wanted to spend some time on Mt. Shasta. Shasta is a stratovolcano and, at 14,162 feet, the second highest volcano in the United States. Mount Shasta City is the major center in the area and the access route to Bunny Flats, where many climbers begin their trek. It’s also a town PCT hikers use as a place to get off the trail for rest and resupply, and it attracts people who are “wandering” -- sometimes arriving and departing by jumping the long trains that ease through town.
We enjoyed the free primitive camping at Bunny Flats, beer on the patio at The Goat’s Tavern, dinner at Piemont (Italian), breakfast at Black Bear Diner, groceries (really good deli sandwiches) at Mt. Shasta Super Market, an overnight at Cold Creek Inn, and gear shopping at The Fifth Season.
That’s where we met Chris, from Shasta Mountain Guides, our guides Dane and Polly, and the two men who’d be climbing with us. Our gear was checked over, suggestions for changes were made (followed by a few purchases of course), group gear was distributed and we caravanned to the trailhead on the northeast side of the mountain. The road in to the trailhead was long, dusty, and rough, but our little rental sedan made the climb relatively unscathed with some skilled driving and expert co-piloting. It felt like “the little car that could,” following our leaders in their 4WD pickup and the other clients in a SUV. The North Gate Trail to our base camp rose gently through sparse forest, then rocky, barren fields, to a base camp at 10,000 feet, just below the snowline.
Our trip was called the “Glacier I – Intro to Mountaineering Seminar.” Day 2 focused on proper use of our climbing equipment and the fundamentals of glacier travel. “Nose over toes” for proper position in heading downhill, “A is for Adze leading the way” when holding the ice axe while traveling, and “Scratch your nose, don’t pick it” for the right way to attach a carabineer to a climbing harness. Then early to bed for Day 3, with an alpine start to seek the peak.
This is where I regretfully am going to state a frustration.
Guides. My current perspective is clouded by this trip and some other experiences. I think there are two basic types, and they oppose. One is where you are with a group of people and two or more guides. There the guides’ focus is not on supporting the group but rather they are willing to split the group and get some but not all to the summit. (Another way to say it is it’s like going to a dress rehearsal when you’ve paid to attend the full concert.) The other experience is when you and a friend hire on and get a single guide. That guide works hard for you and your friend to have a successful trip and reach your goal.
Our previous guides on Mt. Hood and The Grand Tetons were of the 1 guide/2 client variety. They spoke encouraging words that buoyed us up as we climbed. They taught us skills, gave caution when needed, set a pace we could handle, stopped frequently for brief breaks, and reminded us to snack and drink. Our Shasta guides said things like “The next phase is longer and steeper,” “You have to be sure you have saved enough energy to get back down,” and “Other clients have told us the pace we set was ‘boring’.” All true, perhaps, but not the support I needed to sustain my effort.
I admit to having high expectations of those I hire. When I’m being tugged on a climbing line, when my “rest steps” are not being done “right,” when I’m sensing (through either internal or external voices) that my capabilities might be in doubt by those in charge, I hesitate. I hear the title of the Count Basie/Peggy Lee song titled, “Alright, Okay, You Win.” Even though that’s really a love song admitting connection, and not advice to give up, my mind gives me different lyrics: Alright. Okay. You Win, I’ll Bow Out, I’m Outta Here.
I’m not a competitive person. I’m quick to back away from disagreement. I need approval. I want to feel that I fit in. I’m also gently independent. So, at our 12,000 foot break, after not being able to see more than a quick glance at the morning’s sunrise or really catch my breath and get into my stride, I opted to not go further. Brian chose to go out with me out of kindness to the two other clients, saying, “If I go on and can’t keep up, then all of us will have to turn around” even though he was doing fine and feeling well.
That’s a 50% failure/success rate for our group, depending on your outlook. There was another group from the same guiding company on the mountain, making a summit bid on the same day as ours. They also had a 50% rate. And all four from another quartet bailed early on their bid. (Disclaimer: I don’t know if they were with a guide or were a private group or what their intentions had been).
I understand that not everyone can reach a summit, no matter how great their desire or how much they pay. I realize that in this economy guiding companies most likely do not have a strong enough client base to match groups up, say group people who are similar in age or experience or capabilities, as they might if they were had more customers and trips to choose from. It makes sense that they have to cancel trips with low enrollment, that any client is eagerly grabbed up.
Overall, we liked our guides. They were extremely personable and very friendly and cooked ample, tasty food for us in a very scenic alpine camp. They were also high energy, accomplished and capable young athletes. By default they are “far above” folk like me who are simply seeking adventure. That doesn’t free my disappointment. I feel we could have made it safely to the summit and down again with better encouragement and a bit slower pace. That might just be my regret talking, but it is also my experience as a client, as a leader, and a passionate hiker who enjoys encouraging others.
So it didn’t all go as planned and Shasta is still on our bucket list. The memory I’m going to keep for this vacation is the gift of all the wonderful moments and I won’t wrap it up in disgruntlement over how some guiding companies operate. In the long run the skills upgraded, achievement gained, and exploration experienced will lead the account. Our summer vacation was great. How about yours?
We enjoyed the free primitive camping at Bunny Flats, beer on the patio at The Goat’s Tavern, dinner at Piemont (Italian), breakfast at Black Bear Diner, groceries (really good deli sandwiches) at Mt. Shasta Super Market, an overnight at Cold Creek Inn, and gear shopping at The Fifth Season.
That’s where we met Chris, from Shasta Mountain Guides, our guides Dane and Polly, and the two men who’d be climbing with us. Our gear was checked over, suggestions for changes were made (followed by a few purchases of course), group gear was distributed and we caravanned to the trailhead on the northeast side of the mountain. The road in to the trailhead was long, dusty, and rough, but our little rental sedan made the climb relatively unscathed with some skilled driving and expert co-piloting. It felt like “the little car that could,” following our leaders in their 4WD pickup and the other clients in a SUV. The North Gate Trail to our base camp rose gently through sparse forest, then rocky, barren fields, to a base camp at 10,000 feet, just below the snowline.
Our trip was called the “Glacier I – Intro to Mountaineering Seminar.” Day 2 focused on proper use of our climbing equipment and the fundamentals of glacier travel. “Nose over toes” for proper position in heading downhill, “A is for Adze leading the way” when holding the ice axe while traveling, and “Scratch your nose, don’t pick it” for the right way to attach a carabineer to a climbing harness. Then early to bed for Day 3, with an alpine start to seek the peak.
This is where I regretfully am going to state a frustration.
Guides. My current perspective is clouded by this trip and some other experiences. I think there are two basic types, and they oppose. One is where you are with a group of people and two or more guides. There the guides’ focus is not on supporting the group but rather they are willing to split the group and get some but not all to the summit. (Another way to say it is it’s like going to a dress rehearsal when you’ve paid to attend the full concert.) The other experience is when you and a friend hire on and get a single guide. That guide works hard for you and your friend to have a successful trip and reach your goal.
Our previous guides on Mt. Hood and The Grand Tetons were of the 1 guide/2 client variety. They spoke encouraging words that buoyed us up as we climbed. They taught us skills, gave caution when needed, set a pace we could handle, stopped frequently for brief breaks, and reminded us to snack and drink. Our Shasta guides said things like “The next phase is longer and steeper,” “You have to be sure you have saved enough energy to get back down,” and “Other clients have told us the pace we set was ‘boring’.” All true, perhaps, but not the support I needed to sustain my effort.
I admit to having high expectations of those I hire. When I’m being tugged on a climbing line, when my “rest steps” are not being done “right,” when I’m sensing (through either internal or external voices) that my capabilities might be in doubt by those in charge, I hesitate. I hear the title of the Count Basie/Peggy Lee song titled, “Alright, Okay, You Win.” Even though that’s really a love song admitting connection, and not advice to give up, my mind gives me different lyrics: Alright. Okay. You Win, I’ll Bow Out, I’m Outta Here.
I’m not a competitive person. I’m quick to back away from disagreement. I need approval. I want to feel that I fit in. I’m also gently independent. So, at our 12,000 foot break, after not being able to see more than a quick glance at the morning’s sunrise or really catch my breath and get into my stride, I opted to not go further. Brian chose to go out with me out of kindness to the two other clients, saying, “If I go on and can’t keep up, then all of us will have to turn around” even though he was doing fine and feeling well.
That’s a 50% failure/success rate for our group, depending on your outlook. There was another group from the same guiding company on the mountain, making a summit bid on the same day as ours. They also had a 50% rate. And all four from another quartet bailed early on their bid. (Disclaimer: I don’t know if they were with a guide or were a private group or what their intentions had been).
I understand that not everyone can reach a summit, no matter how great their desire or how much they pay. I realize that in this economy guiding companies most likely do not have a strong enough client base to match groups up, say group people who are similar in age or experience or capabilities, as they might if they were had more customers and trips to choose from. It makes sense that they have to cancel trips with low enrollment, that any client is eagerly grabbed up.
Overall, we liked our guides. They were extremely personable and very friendly and cooked ample, tasty food for us in a very scenic alpine camp. They were also high energy, accomplished and capable young athletes. By default they are “far above” folk like me who are simply seeking adventure. That doesn’t free my disappointment. I feel we could have made it safely to the summit and down again with better encouragement and a bit slower pace. That might just be my regret talking, but it is also my experience as a client, as a leader, and a passionate hiker who enjoys encouraging others.
So it didn’t all go as planned and Shasta is still on our bucket list. The memory I’m going to keep for this vacation is the gift of all the wonderful moments and I won’t wrap it up in disgruntlement over how some guiding companies operate. In the long run the skills upgraded, achievement gained, and exploration experienced will lead the account. Our summer vacation was great. How about yours?
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