Lassen Peak

Sunday morning comes early for much of the Manzanita Lake campers. The first day the park road is open to vehicle traffic is finally here! The campground is abuzz with activity as everyone scrambles around to pack up and head out on their adventure before returning home to work. When we finally hit the road, most of the area has cleared out. Since the previous day was our twenty mile run, we are a little creaky and slow to get moving.

We decide to drive the park road in its entirety and check out the snow conditions before committing to a hike for the day. Since Matt's last trip up Lassen Peak was smoky without any views, I know he secretly wants to eat his trail cookies atop the park's tallest volcano. The park road climbs higher and higher and the snowbanks beside the road grow taller and more impressive.

The parking lot for Lassen Peak is carved out of a massive snow block whose walls top fifteen feet or more in some places. The parking area is full of skiers, snowboarders, and sledders alike.

While I admit my mountaineering skills are limited, this looks entirely doable.

The most worrisome part of the trail is near the summit. Exposed and near vertical without a snow-free trail, I know it has to be almost dry up there for me to make it to the top. I glance up and notice that the southern exposure has done this trail a favor and it appears to be dry dirt up there. Matt and I agree to at least give it a try. Even if we don't make it very high up, the views are incredible after only a five minute hike.

I've got eight years of winter backpacking and hiking in the mountains, I think that counts?

I gather my things in the pack and Matt and I line up behind a family trying to make it out of the parking lot and onto the snow towering almost fifteen feet above them. They slip and slide in their sneakers and when it's finally my turn, they watch as I make it up without a single slip. One kid asks his dad how we make it look so easy. They're both stumped until someone points out the Kahtoola micro-spikes attached to my shoes. Naw kid, I'm just a superhero. ;)

Before I know it, the trail is a staircase of small notches through the snow. There are two clear tracks pointed skyward, one the hikers have been taking and one the skiers and snowboarders have. We decide that since it probably takes more mountaineering experience to ski and snowboard, those are the folks we want to follow. We are reassured when their route makes switchbacks up the mountain rather than a straight shot for the summit, knowing that's the way we'd go too if we had to blaze our own trail.

It's steep enough that I'm climbing a fair amount with my hands in the snow to steady myself. I test each step before continuing on. It takes an enormous amount of concentration, but I'm enjoying the distraction. I know my fear of heights will be activated if I think about it too much. Left foot, chop chop, step up. Right foot, chop, kick, step up. Soon I crest the top of a ledge and to my surprise and elation, it's the trail! The summertime trail without any snow on it!

Matt and I pull off our spikes and zoom up the trail. It feels effortless compared to the first mile of our hike. On a clear summer day, I can make it to the top in under an hour. It's only two and a half miles, but the switchbacks help to make it an accessible climb for anyone. Today it takes us 1:41.

We find a quiet spot overlooking the southern half of the park and pull a bag of cookies from our pack. Since his trip last year was clouded by wildfire smoke, Matt finally gets to enjoy the view. We sit and savor our snacks while we watch the skiers disappear over the edge. I'm uncomfortable by his level of intrigue. Please don't take up backcountry skiing, Honey. It looks terrifying.

Mt. Shasta

Soon, we make our way back down the mountain. Since we're on the easy summer trail, conversation has resumed and our spirits lightened. I try not to think about the snowy descent we face up ahead.

I snap one photo of Matt descending on the snowfield before I tuck the camera away and follow suit. Going downhill is always harder than going up. For me, it's because I actually have to look at how high up I am rather than staring straight ahead.

We make use of the snowy glissades when we can and for a little while, it's fun and distracting to pick out my next slide path away from the trees and not on too steep a slope that I'm afraid of losing control and rolling to the bottom.

When we reach a small flat landing before the final drop to the parking area, we notice a series of orange flags marking the route. We didn't take these to the top, but we figure that we should probably play by the rules now since we noticed them.

The flags meander through the trees and soon I regret my decision. The icy crust has no give to it and my spikes aren't sticking to the snow. I take one step and make it. The next one feels sturdy too so I go. My foot slips out. I slide down the hillside headed for a patch of trees, a dry area, and some boulders. I have little time to react other than thinking "Oh shit, this is going to hurt" on my way down.

To my surprise, I come to a stop just shy of going over a small drop where the boulders are waiting. Then I realize why. My left arm, the one who isn't allowed to carry more than a gallon of milk for fear of breaking its fragile one-bone self, is supporting all my weight as I cling to a small tree I passed. I quickly grab onto the branch with my right hand to lend support. Whew, let's not do that again, I say aloud in an effort to calm myself.

Matt makes it down to where I am and together we decide to abandon the idea of being rule followers and ignore the flags. We sneak around this cluster of trees and see that there are no more dangers below us. If we slip out again, it's a glissade to the bottom. Once I get low enough to be comfortable with a glissade, I let myself go and end my hike with a long, lovely slide down to the bottom. Matt follows along behind as I shoot a video. Sorry that it's sideways, I don't know how to fix it.

It is warm when we arrive at the parking area so we change our outfits and head back onto the road. We explore a few of the volcanic features of the park before heading back to camp for the night.

Sulfur Works

 Hammocks await!