Climbing and Skiing Lassen & Shasta: Day 4 of 7
Day 4: Skiing Mount Lassen
as always, the full gallery is at the bottom, so skip there if you don’t care about the words
I woke up at five in the morning in my van. The goal was simple. Be at the trailhead by six, fully packed and ready to go ski Mount Lassen. That is the kind of early that makes you question your life choices. You are warm in your bed. It is cold outside. Every part of you wants to stay put. But then the excitement kicks in. This is the day. This is what I came here to do.
I stepped outside to pack up and immediately felt the chill bite. I thought about putting on my ski boots for the walk to the trailhead but then reality hit. That mile-plus hike in ski boots would be brutal. They are stiff and awkward and your feet sweat inside them. So I made a call. I grabbed my regular shoes, laced them up, and strapped my ski boots to the outside of my pack. Once I got to the trailhead I would swap them out. It was a small logistical move but it saved me thirty minutes of misery and cost me about thirty minutes of sleep time. Worth it.
The approach started easy enough. I was moving well, cruising up the trail in my regular shoes, feeling good. And then the sun came up and everything changed. By eight in the morning it was already hot. I mean really hot. The kind of heat that makes you question why you signed up for this in the first place. I was getting smoked. Energy was dropping fast. I pulled out my Dermatone and slathered on sunscreen, but it did not matter. The climb was relentless.
About three quarters of the way up, I hit a wall. My legs were tired. My lungs were working hard. I could see the peak but it felt so far away. So I stopped. I sat down. I ate some food and just let myself rest for a bit. Sometimes the best thing you can do on a long climb is give yourself permission to take a break. After twenty minutes I felt better. Stronger. Ready to keep going.
Camera Gear I Packed For The Shasta & Lassen Project:
Tamron 16-30; probably my favorite lens right now
Tamron 28-75; I think this is the best all around focal length
Tamron 70-180; I don’t use this a ton, but it’s a great lens
Peak Design Lite strap (I was lucky enough to get the camo version from the Sitka collab that sold out in less than 24 hours and feel cool about that)
That is when the boot pack started. I took off my regular shoes, pulled them into my backpack, and clicked into my ski boots. The snow changed immediately. It went from normal to soft. Really soft. With each step my foot was sinking deeper. Shin deep. Knee deep. And then waist deep. I was using my arms now, punching into the snow with every step, crawling more than walking. That is when I felt it. That weird feeling in your gut that something is off. The snow did not feel right. It felt sketchy. Unstable. Like it was waiting to move.
I was maybe a couple hundred feet from the summit but I made a decision. I was not going to push it. I was not going to be a hero. I stopped right there and got ready to ski down. Better safe than sorry. Better alive than proud.
I dropped in and made my first turn. The moment I did, I looked back over my shoulder and saw it. I had released a small slough. Just a little avalanche. Nothing massive but enough to remind me why I had made the right call. I made a hard quick turn and booked it in the opposite direction, going straight and fast to get away from it. The slough did not catch me but it did not need to. The message was clear.
I skied down the other side where the snow was more stable. The descent was good. The snow was thick and forgiving. I skied almost all the way back to where I had started, took off my boots, and walked back to the van. By noon I was back.
I was so early that I decided to pack everything up and head straight to Mount Shasta. On my way out I got to meet up with my dad for a quick minute. I stopped at one of the lakes, jumped in, and rinsed off all the sweat and exhaustion. Standing there in that cold water, I started mentally preparing for what was coming next. Mount Shasta was waiting. And after today, I knew I was ready for it.
Again, thank you to anyone and everyone reading this. If you have enjoyed this journal entry, shoot me an email to say hey: dj@dalton-johnson.com
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About Dalton:
Dalton Johnson is a photographer, filmmaker, and writer.
Over the last 10 years, Dalton’s creative work has taken him to every continent, above the arctic circle, and below the antarctic circle.
His travels are documented in a free, weekly newsletter called UnBound, which is written for those daring to build their dream life.
