Kevin Rooney
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- Sep 15, 2003
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Misery Hill is aptly named. There’s nothing particularly difficult about it – it’s not especially steep, it’s mostly smooth, although under today’s conditions it was not a good idea to stray too far from the center of the cone as a slip on the icy surface could send you over a shelf with some questionable consequences. Still, it only required a modest amount of care to do it safely. What makes it difficult is that it is featureless and boring, and occurs at the point in the climb where getting to the top becomes a proverbial ‘head game’. One cannot see the actual summit until you reach the top of Misery Hill, so without some knowledge of Shasta, it’s difficult to gauge the amount of remaining needed effort. It’s said that many climbers make it to this point, only to become discouraged and turn back. I’d talked with our group many times about this hill, and told them how to persevere, which mainly involves following Tom Casey’s Rules of Climbing, to wit: 1) put one foot in front of the other, 2) remember to breathe, and 3) don’t look up.
After 45 minutes of somewhat steady trudging, I made it to the top of this hill to find the others discussing which peak ahead was the actual summit, and which route was the best. Since their consensus seemed to be a direct frontal assault on the main peak (and from past experience I knew this wasn’t the best route unless you were an experienced ice climber) I decided to relinquish my usual position as sweep and took the lead across the last slight inclined slope, then turned left on the contour towards the sulfur spring near the base of the final pitch. Here we dropped our packs, gathered up our cameras, put on extra gear as the wind was blowing a steady 35mph, and zigzagged slowly to the top of the col. Here there was a protected spot where we gathered out of the wind, and then made a mad dash to another sheltered spot just beyond the summit register box. We didn’t linger, just long enough to take a few pictures of each other on the summit (the summit itself is a small patch of ground), sign the summit log, and down climb the last 200’ to our packs. It was now slightly after 11AM, and while a bit cold and windy, the weather was stable and the sun shone brightly. We now had time to savor the views, especially down onto Shastina and the Whitney Glacier, marveling at the enormous circular bergshrund on the top of the glacier. Soon we were at the bottom of Misery Hill, which is a rather fine place to dine, all things considered. I was looking forward to a most wonderful glissade, deciding to wait until just below Red Banks. Had the conditions been a bit warmer, the snow levels would have permitted glissading down Misery, but the cold winds kept the surface hard, so I had to bide my time. Below Red Banks the snow was in perfect condition, so having played the role of sweep most of the day, I decided to join Jerry near the front, and away we went, on a controlled slide which refreshes the spirit and is just plain FUN! The others soon joined us in their own fashion, and we made our way back to Lake Helen. Jerry spotted Brian’s camera which has slipped from his grasp near Red Banks and had tumbled well over a mile. Fortunately the padded case seemed to have prevented damage. By now the snow had softened considerably, and the early season conditions meant that we’d posthole occasionally, at least until we got back to Horse Camp where the trail was well-packed. We had considered the pros and cons of carrying snowshoes, and decided against them. It was the right decision – the extra weight of carrying snowshoes more than offset the effort required of occasional posthole. Jerry was the first to head down, intent on getting ready for a celebratory dinner with a friend. Conditions were still favorable for several shorter glissades down to Horse Camp and from there we trudged back to Bunny Flats, weary from carrying our heavy packs, elated from the accomplishment, and hoping we’d applied enough sunblock to avoid emergency medical care in the morning.
Parting at the trailhead was difficult – to fly cross-country and climb two fourteeners within the space of a week was an ambitious trip, and created a strong sense of camaraderie, especially among those who’d shared many peaks before. We were also concerned for Lou and Al, who would now continue to travel north to meet our friend Jen at the Whittaker’s for an attempt on Rainier, and hoping they’d enjoy the same good stretch of weather for their planned 3 days on the mountain. But, it was time to say good-bye, at least for now. So in as manly a fashion was possible, we shook hands, slapped each other heartily on the back and soon were on our separate ways, each thankful that everyone was safe, and beginning to think about the next adventure.
Pictures of the climb can be seen at Webshots here.
After 45 minutes of somewhat steady trudging, I made it to the top of this hill to find the others discussing which peak ahead was the actual summit, and which route was the best. Since their consensus seemed to be a direct frontal assault on the main peak (and from past experience I knew this wasn’t the best route unless you were an experienced ice climber) I decided to relinquish my usual position as sweep and took the lead across the last slight inclined slope, then turned left on the contour towards the sulfur spring near the base of the final pitch. Here we dropped our packs, gathered up our cameras, put on extra gear as the wind was blowing a steady 35mph, and zigzagged slowly to the top of the col. Here there was a protected spot where we gathered out of the wind, and then made a mad dash to another sheltered spot just beyond the summit register box. We didn’t linger, just long enough to take a few pictures of each other on the summit (the summit itself is a small patch of ground), sign the summit log, and down climb the last 200’ to our packs. It was now slightly after 11AM, and while a bit cold and windy, the weather was stable and the sun shone brightly. We now had time to savor the views, especially down onto Shastina and the Whitney Glacier, marveling at the enormous circular bergshrund on the top of the glacier. Soon we were at the bottom of Misery Hill, which is a rather fine place to dine, all things considered. I was looking forward to a most wonderful glissade, deciding to wait until just below Red Banks. Had the conditions been a bit warmer, the snow levels would have permitted glissading down Misery, but the cold winds kept the surface hard, so I had to bide my time. Below Red Banks the snow was in perfect condition, so having played the role of sweep most of the day, I decided to join Jerry near the front, and away we went, on a controlled slide which refreshes the spirit and is just plain FUN! The others soon joined us in their own fashion, and we made our way back to Lake Helen. Jerry spotted Brian’s camera which has slipped from his grasp near Red Banks and had tumbled well over a mile. Fortunately the padded case seemed to have prevented damage. By now the snow had softened considerably, and the early season conditions meant that we’d posthole occasionally, at least until we got back to Horse Camp where the trail was well-packed. We had considered the pros and cons of carrying snowshoes, and decided against them. It was the right decision – the extra weight of carrying snowshoes more than offset the effort required of occasional posthole. Jerry was the first to head down, intent on getting ready for a celebratory dinner with a friend. Conditions were still favorable for several shorter glissades down to Horse Camp and from there we trudged back to Bunny Flats, weary from carrying our heavy packs, elated from the accomplishment, and hoping we’d applied enough sunblock to avoid emergency medical care in the morning.
Parting at the trailhead was difficult – to fly cross-country and climb two fourteeners within the space of a week was an ambitious trip, and created a strong sense of camaraderie, especially among those who’d shared many peaks before. We were also concerned for Lou and Al, who would now continue to travel north to meet our friend Jen at the Whittaker’s for an attempt on Rainier, and hoping they’d enjoy the same good stretch of weather for their planned 3 days on the mountain. But, it was time to say good-bye, at least for now. So in as manly a fashion was possible, we shook hands, slapped each other heartily on the back and soon were on our separate ways, each thankful that everyone was safe, and beginning to think about the next adventure.
Pictures of the climb can be seen at Webshots here.
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