Call from the Climb for Life #1
Call from the Climb for Life #2
Call from the Climb for Life #3

Climb For Life 2005

The full moon and summer solstice intersected during the week of June 20^th, bringing long days and well lit nights to the northern hemisphere and providing the perfect setting for the Climb For Life’s second attempt at Mt. Shasta’s summit on June 22, 2005.  The only complication was an unexpected winter storm that brought three feet of fresh snow to the mountain over the preceding week.  The new snow had been re-distributed by howling winds to create drifts of snow up to eight feet, causing the Mt. Shasta Wilderness Rangers to issue an avalanche warning for the mountain to keep climbers out of danger through the weekend of June 18-June 19.  Despite these conditions, several days of clear weather and a clear forecast through the week put the Climb For Life on track to depart for the summit on June 22^nd with the sole purpose of honoring and remembering those who battled cancer by taking their names to the top of the mountain.

The climb began from Bunny Flat at 6,900 feet at 2:15am on Wednesday June 22, 2005.  The full moon was a spectacular sight high in the night sky.  The illumination from the moon was enough to allow climbing without a headlamp, and the light cast a shadow from behind the climber.  Walking in a bright white snowfield with your shadow cast in front of you is an amazing sight to see!  As the first steps unfolded, our thoughts rested with the 159 names of people being honored and remembered for their battle with cancer.  These names each represent a person whose spirit and passion for life touched others, and each of these names were destined to soar from the top of Mt. Shasta if the day went as planned.

When any tale of climbing Mt. Shasta is told, it is typical for someone to ask, “what’s it like to get to the top?”  After careful thought, the best answer I can give is that it’s like being a grain of sand in an hourglass that gets repeatedly flipped over.  Landmarks that loom far ahead for hours transition seamlessly from distant view to immediate neighbor to far below speck.  This feeling of looking up at and then down on massive formations, and even clouds for that matter, keeps flipping that hourglass over until it’s hard to keep track.

After 3 ½ hours of climbing Helen Lake was the first landmark reached.  The view from Helen Lake was extraordinary, with the full moon mingling with the glow from the sunrise.  During sunrise Mt. Shasta casts its shadow hauntingly into the sky to the west.  This giant and unique image is always a treat to witness, and was made all the more inspiring when mixed with the full moon setting slowly over the Trinity Alps.  A quick stop was all that was needed at Helen Lake, and the climb continued onto Avalanche Gulch.

The lower stretch of Avalanche Gulch was loaded with several feet of fresh, powdery snow leading to slow travel as each foot fall would sink deep into the snow.  Ahead by about 30 minutes was a pair of climbers working hard to break a trail.  The initial push up the Gulch was difficult, and one of the climbers ahead opted to turn back, leaving just two climbers separated by 100 yards working our way up the steep face. 

As the sun creeps over Sargent’s Ridge it strikes the top of the opposite ridge long before it fills Avalanche Gulch with sunlight.  A couple of interesting factors combined to present the first challenge to the Climb for Life.  First, the snow storm of the past week had combined with several days of ferocious winds and temperatures that did not get above freezing to leave the upper ridges encrusted with hundreds, if not thousands, of chunks of ice.  As the sun warmed the ridge above freezing for the first time in over a week, these ice formations began breaking loose and cascading down into the gulch.  The ice chunks varied in size, with some as small a quarter and others as big as a softball.  These projectiles came hurtling down the mountain at what seemed like warp speed!  Ahead of me, the other climber would intermittently yell, “ICE!” when a larger sized chunk would come down.  Fortunately, most of the icefall was smaller in size, and none of the large pieces hit anyone.  The pieces continued falling at a steady rate, but they did not get bigger or threaten to start any avalanche activity. 

Ahead of me, the other climber would periodically stop and look back.  A quick glance would assure we were both in good shape, and both continuing on.  At the near halfway point up the gulch, the icefall became a secondary issue to the difficulty found in breaking new trail up the mountain.  The snowdrifts were getting deeper, and the pace was slowing down.  Up ahead, a heartwarming sight came into view, when a trail of boot prints leading straight up the second half of Avalanche Gulch materialized and lifted spirits.  Once a good path is laid in the snow, subsequent climbers benefit by not having to break their own path through the loose snow.  It makes the trip easier and faster.  Unlike a typical boot trail that leads a little way only to disappear, this path clearly led all the way to the Red Banks, and made the hardest part of the climb infinitely more bearable.  Apart from a helicopter carrying a person to the summit, a good boot trail to follow provides the next best way to scale the mountain.  This pathway was the first major break that supported the Climb For Life. 

The second major break came shortly after the boot trail emerged.  The climber who had led the way up the mountain was slowly being gained on.  He had veered from the boot trail in an effort to avoid the cascading icefall but had found himself slowed by the deep snowdrifts.  As he finally made his way back to the trail, our paths at last intersected.  We met and exchanged greetings.  His name was Randy and he was from Missouri.  I asked him the only question that seemed appropriate:  Was he a Kansas City Royals or a St. Louis Cardinals fan?  Cardinals, he answered.  We agreed that neither of us would have made it this far without the other.  The brief glances we exchanged as we made our way through the icefall kept our spirits aloft and our competitive drive engaged.  During the hours that followed, we would learn more about each other and forge a bond that, even if we never saw each other again, would last a lifetime. 

The sun, visible over the ridgeline for several hours, now crested Sargent’s Ridge and bathed Avalanche Gulch with its warmth.  The Red Banks, at nearly 13,000 feet, stood just ahead.  This is where the Climb For Life stalled two weeks earlier, victim of another late season winter storm.  As the climb passed this milestone, the climbers who had bravely laid the boot track up Avalanche Gulch came bounding down the mountain, having summited already.  We praised their Herculean efforts and marveled at how early they must have started to be coming down already.  When asked how the wind was up top they paused before replying, “Not bad, it’s blowing but it could be worse.”  As quickly as they had appeared, they disappeared down the mountain, not knowing how pivotal they were in making the Climb For Life a success. 

It’s easy sometimes to stare at Mt. Shasta from the typical vantage point and forget just how much mountain lies above the Red Banks and Thumb Rock.  While the distance is only 1,100 vertical feet, each foot feels magnified.  During a short rest break I told Randy about the Climb For Life.  We both felt very confident that we had a great shot at the summit, even on a day that offered up some unique challenges.  As we prepared to take on Misery Hill, the final major hurdle, Randy told me a story I’ll never forget and one that will always leave me wondering about the forces that brought us both to that mountain on that day to climb together.

“Can I give you a name to read on the air if I sponsor the climb?”  He asked.

Of course he could, I replied.  It turns out Randy is also Dr. Woods, a family physician who owns and operates a clinic in rural Missouri.  He told me a story about a woman named Kathryn Hall who had come to him 14 years ago and asked of he would take on a cancer patient.  He explained that he was not an oncologist, but that he could help with the routine blood work and keep her oncologist, who was a three-hour car drive away, updated on her condition.  Kathryn had thus wound up in his care, and had provided inspiration for the rest of her life, which, sadly, had ended just the week prior to the climb.  Far from defeated, she had lived well and proudly with cancer for those 14 years, showing everyone around her what bravery was, and what getting the most out of life meant.  Dr. Woods did not say this, but it struck me that his willingness to take on a patient with an advanced condition allowed her to be at home so much more that she could have without his care.  Their relationship likely contributed to her ability to live out those 14 years as bravely and comfortably as she had.

It struck me as an incomprehensible coincidence that Dr. Woods had suddenly become the better half of the Climb For Life effort.  Beyond his calm demeanor, resolute attitude, and sound climbing skills, this was a man who was now able to honor and remember a woman who he had cared for and about.  It wasn’t simply about deciding to climb the mountain, even for a man who may have thought that was his purpose when he started.  The magic and meaning of the Climb For Life seemed able to lift us both and carry us to the summit of Mt. Shasta.

Words about the rest of the climb, the icy slopes, the increasing winds, the leg swallowing snow drifts, add nothing to this story.  The rest of the tale, as was the whole of the endeavor is about the simple act of taking the names of 159 – no, make that 160 – names of true heroes up the last 300 vertical feet of the Summit tower and placing those names in the summit book.  We honor these people for the way they took the news.  The way they faced the treatment.  The way the held their heads high.  The way the cried tears of sorrow.  The way they decided to live their life, despite being threatened with their death. 

We remember them for the way they passed from this world, leaving it smaller than before, but forever filled with their spirit.

We honor them for defying the odds, and giving light to those in the dark that they too may yet win their battle.

And we will forever look to the top of Mt. Shasta and know that the First Annual Climb For Life was made possible because those who love them, those who miss them, and those that they do not know that will be saved by their sacrifice all believed that hope will always triumph over despair, and that the only true heroes we meet in life are the ones that show us just how valuable and miraculous each life is.