Lassen Peak (Lassen Volcanic National Park, California)

Even with my disappointing attempt to reach the summit of Mt. Whitney last weekend, it's time to get back in the saddle and bag another peak. Lassen Peak is the tallest point in Lassen Volcanic National Park. Though it only rises to 10,457ft, it can be seen from very long distances due to it's prominence. Many pictures I have from the top of other nearby mountains have Lassen Peak in the background. The mountain is the southernmost active volcano in the Cascade range (which includes Mt. Shasta, Mt. Rainier and Mt. St. Helens) and can clearly be seen from the top of Mt. Rose and from just about anywhere within it's namesake park.

For the last couple of years, I have been wanting to hike up to the summit, but the park service has been restoring and improving the trail. Going all the way to the summit has only been possible on a few pre-designated weekends each year, but luckily, this year's labor day weekend is one of those. 

Getting a mid-morning start, I made the two and a half hour drive from Reno to the park, confirming on my way in that the full trail was open. I always love driving through this national park, as there are wonders right alongside the road. The Sulfur Works is a favorite of first timers, as it may be their first exposure to the boiling sulfur-rich mud pools that fill this park. Beyond, the road passes right by Lake Helen, which has to be one of the most gorgeous alpine lakes anywhere in the world. 

Arriving at the trail head, I switch socks and shoes, toss on my small day-pack and begin making my way up the volcanic cone that is Lassen Peak. Surprisingly, there aren't as many people here as I had expected. With the limited windows of opportunity, I fully expected to be parked out on the side of the road and shoulder to shoulder with hikers going up the trail. This isn't to say that there isn't a good crowd, as there is, but just not as many as I thought there would be. 

The trail immediately starts gaining elevation from parking lot, which sits at about 8k, and doesn't stop until the top. There is very little vegetation on this slopes, as it is still comprised of the loose gravel that remained after the powerful eruptions of 1914-1917. I guess there aren't many plants that can take root in this loose landscape, not to mention the wind and cold. All of this makes for a pretty barren trail, but it still holds great beauty. 

Entirely comprised of a series of large switchbacks, the trail makes it's way up the mountain. The recent improvements are evident about half-way up, as newly carved steps and retaining walls finish out the path. I do wish though that they would go for less steps. My knees do much better without them.

All in all, it's a fairly easy 5+ mile hike. Once I reach the summit, I'm greeted by a number of fellow-hikers at an area that has been fashioned as the end point. However, to the northwest, across a small cooled lava field, there is a point that many other hikers are heading for, as it is obviously a bit higher than where we now stand. I can't come this far and not reach the very pinnacle, and so I make my way over there. It's fairly dangerous as the 'trail' climbs steeply up large and loose obsidian boulders. At this point, it really is more rock scrambling than hiking, but eventually, I reach the true summit and take a few pictures, including a shot of Brokeoff Mountain (the remains of the ancient Mt. Tehama), which I hiked up last year, as well as a shot of Prospect Peak and Cinder Cone off in the distance, also past destinations.

On my way down, I find that my footing is even less sure than it was on the way up. I'm lucky enough to have a large rock slide onto my foot as I navigate a path through the rubble. No damage, but ouch! Continuing down, I sort of jog, as the trail is fairly steep and my momentum just wants to carry me. Reaching the jeep, I get comfortable and head for home.

Mt. Whitney (Inyo County, California)

14,505 feet above sea level, highest point in the contiguous United States, "up there" . . . by whatever name one chooses to refer Mt. Whitney, some sort of superlative is in order. For a couple of years now, I have been hoping to conquer this mighty mountain on the eastern edge of California. Entering the lottery in the early sprint, I was lucky enough to secure three passes for late August. And now with the fateful date upon us, it is time for the test.

A couple of friends that had originally planned on joining me were unable to, but after asking around among other friends and co-workers I found two brave souls to accompany me. Bill, who recently backpacked through the Ruby Mountains with me, and his long-time friend, Van.

Heading down Friday morning, we stopped for a great lunch at the Whoa Nellie Deli outside of Lee Vining, which is one of my favorite stops. What other gas station servers lobster taquitos and bison meat loaf? Continuing on to the Ranger Station just outside of Death Valley, we picked up our passes and Bill rented a bear canister. Knowing the forest service requires these devices for food storage within the Whitney Zone, I had purchased one the week before.

Still having a fair amount of time before dark, we drove up through the Alabama Foothills at the base of Mt. Whitney, stumbling across a small natural bridge in the process - pretty cool. After a little exploration and rock scrambling in the desert, we headed on over to Whitney Portal and pitched our tents at the campground, grabbed some dinner at the burger joint at the trail head, and decided to call it a night.

Rising at 4:45, while it was still pitch black outside, we began to break camp and make our way back up the hill to the trail head. Amazingly, we still had to park my truck quite a ways down hill from the trail head, as most of the parking spots at the top were full. The trail head offers a scale for back packers to weigh in on. I was pretty happy to see my pack weigh in at only 35 pounds, including my water - not too bad.

We start up the trail, which immediately starts the long climb from 8,000 feet at the trail head all the way to 14,505 feet at the summit of Whitney. I know I have referred to some trails in the past as moving 'relentlessly' uphill, but I take it all back. This trial is truly relentless. We pass by small waterfalls and scramble across stepping stones to cross small creeks, all the while making our way up this fantastic white gorge with Whitney directly ahead of us most of the way. As the  sun rises, I capture a great shot of the monstrous mountain above us.

Continuing on, we come across Lone Pine Lake, which is spectacular to behold while looking east. We also find a bridge made of logs through a shallow marsh/run-off, which makes for a fun little diversion. 

Reaching Outpost Camp at about 4 miles in, we stop to fill our water supply and admire the small waterfall feeding the creek that runs right through the middle of this popular overnight spot. We continue on though.

Reaching about 11,500 feet, I begin to feel my head expanding and find it harder and harder to catch my breath. I'm a little concerned about these symptoms. Continuing on, I find it more and more difficult to keep my mind focused on any single thought for any amount of time. My companions, Bill and Van have continued on upon my urging.

As I stumble, much like a zombie, into Trail Camp, which sets in an granite gorge just below the 99 switchbacks leading to the crest, I find myself questioning my ability to continue on. We had always planned on camping here tonight, and so, once I find Bill and Van, we set up our tents and I tell them I need a bit to try and recover. We fix some lunch and I continue experiencing the onslaught of symptoms related to altitude sickness. Van agrees that these symptoms are indicative of the condition. 

After about an hour, we decide to try and push on. I'm not convinced that I can make it, but I'm damn sure going to try. Stripping down my backpack and switching over to a lightweight day pack that I had brought along, I start up the 99 switchbacks. My body just isn't acclimating to this altitude though, and after a few hundred hard-fought yards, I decide that being able to breathe is probably more important than reaching the top. I turn back towards camp, as my companions continue upwards. I spend the rest of my afternoon and evening in and out of sleep in my tent, while hoping my head doesn't explode. After about six hours, my companions return with tales of the grandeur of the summit and the struggle to reach it. Bill also started getting sick from the thin air, but not until he had almost reached the top. It was a huge disappointment, but again, my health had to come first.

Overnight temperatures at Trail Camp, sunk below freezing as we found ice on some of our gear when we awoke. Marmots and chipmunks run rampant through camp scrounging for food scraps. As I rise at dawn and climb the hill behind us, I spot what I believe to be a fox off in the distance. I think the overnight stay has helped my altitude sickness and has give my body enough time to at least begin to become accustomed to this thin air. I feel significantly better this morning, and my head feels almost normal sized once again.

As we only have a seven mile down hill hike separating us from the truck, we take our time breaking camp, but eventually hit the trail. It's always amazing to me how difficult downhill can be on a steep trail. It works completely different muscles and while downhill doesn't require the endurance of uphill, acting as shock-absorbers kills the knees. It's made worse by all of the granite steps that have been carved into the trail. I take my time, but finally reach the trail-head a few minutes behind my companions.

I hope someday to get another chance to hike up this mighty peak, but next time, I will most definitely give myself an extra day to acclimate better. I'm disappointed in myself, but I had a great time with some good people, and saw some amazing scenery over the 15 miles I was able to trek. It was still worth it, even though I didn't reach the peak.

Mt. Rose with Friends (Washoe County, Nevada)

Somewhat surprisingly, my legs and feet were ready for another hike just a few days after my Ruby Mountain Adventure. It was a good thing too. My friend Nate and I are participating in a fitness contest at work, in which we have to do various activities throughout the week for seven weeks. Hiking to the summit of Mt. Rose should knock out a couple of those. Joining us for the hike were Nate's friend Jen, her young son, Casen, and her friend Wendy.

Getting a 8:30ish start at the Mt. Rose trail head, we finished off some fantastic tri-tip breakfast burritos that Jen had made for the trip. Jen loaded her son into a well designed pack and we were off. The day had a lot of cloud cover, but I suspected that would be beneficial during the last half of the hike, which has no shade at all, and can get extremely hot during a sunny summer day.

We made pretty good time heading up the mountain. I admit, I was a little concerned with Jen carrying such a load, but she is an experienced backpacker and made an impressive showing all the way to the top. So much so, that many other hikers along the trail were commenting that if she could do it with a toddler on her back, then they themselves had no excuse for not making the summit.

Once we reached the summit, we stopped for some snacks and to rest. Nate made a fantastic fruit salad that he shared with everyone. We took a few pictures, and then Nate and I used his hiking poles to stage a 'light-saber' fight for one shot. As the contest is centered around the upcoming Star Wars movie, it seemed appropriate. In the distance, Nate asked what a tall peak to the northwest was, and I explained that it was Lassen Peak, which he, I and another friend are intending to hike up next weekend.

We packed our packs, cleaned our mess, and started the long trek back to the cars. Downhill on Mt. Rose is always so much easier, due to it's steady but gentle incline. Arriving back at the trail head, we said our good byes and went our separate ways. While we didn't set any speed records, it was a very enjoyable day hike with some good company.