A glowing sunset highlights a lenticular-clad Mount Shasta.

Holy Kinarsey, December slipped by quickly. I had a in mind 3-4 posts in the queue but never got any of them off the ground. Between business, family, Christmas and numerous other commitments, it was not the most productive month when it comes to writing. The last few months have just been a really busy season.

Now it’s New Year’s Eve and I have decided to shelve a lot of those posts for the time being. For now, I want to clear my spindle of images and prep for the end of the year posts. This post will be bereft of commentary and just move through the images of December in chronological order. Sorry for taking the easy way out!

The beginning of December started with a bit of lenticular activity. It was all heralding a storm that was approaching the area. None of the clouds were particularly well-formed or awesome, but it was nice to see some activity on the mountain.

The lenticular activity peaked the sunset before the storm. The cloud itself was not huge but it was a nice, clean disk. The alpenglow, however, was fantastic. This was the best sunset of December, in my opinion.

Even Black Butte got into the action. When the sky is full of color like it was at this sunset, I really like it when bands of clouds are in shadow. It makes the whole scene look somewhat like a reverse negative.

The morning after the storm, Mount Shasta was gorgeous. The valley being filled with low clouds, I headed up onto the mountain to get a good view of sunrise. I was not disappointed. The snow wasn’t too deep but the spectacle of morning light, blue sky and fresh snow was pure magic.

I love snow banners in general and even more when they are catching the light of the rising or setting sun. The banners on this morning weren’t sustained particularly dramatic but I couldn’t resist getting video of them anyway. Again, pure magic.

Looking back off the mountain, the region was hard to see because of the low clouds. However, at one point they did open up enough to catch a view of the Castle Crags. The snow was not deep at lower elevations but the north side of the Crags was still white and the glow of the morning sun highlighted the rocky spires.

A few days later, the best lenticular display of the season was manifest on Mount Shasta. I managed to capture a few images of it but I was not well and didn’t spend the time I should have trying to get to a better place from which to document the clouds. I am grateful for what I was able to document through.

The morning of Christmas Eve was a glorious one. I headed out into the frosty Shasta Valley, where the color around the mountain was notably evident. There was an intriguing wave formation above Mount Shasta soaking in the morning light, making the sunrise standout in my mind of all the sunrises of the past month.

The week after Christmas witnessed a series of rain storms pass through Mount Shasta. Though no snow was deposited down low, there was plenty of rain and the higher elevations got a good dose of the white stuff. I headed out to the Shasta Valley for the second to last sunset of the year, hoping that the rain had returned my puddles to me. It had, but the rain still fell, rippling the reflection. Still, the rain and the glow and the texture of the evening was glorious and I was glad, once again and as I always am, that I can be a witness to the testimony.

The year of our Lord 2023 has come and gone. This trip around the sun was a good one at the foot of Mount Shasta. This year began with a long, long winter with deep snow but by summer we saw hurricane remnants, epic mudslides and eclipses. Thankfully, no major fires threatened the area.  Between working out on Truchas Ridge, operating our animal hospital in Yreka, teaching history and Latin at my kids’ school and teaching at church and other places, I did not get out nearly as much as I have in the past. It seems like life is finally starting to catch up with me. Nonetheless, I did get out a bit, made it down to the desert twice and still reveled in Yosemite’s spring glory. In the midst of these blessings the year ends, with knowledge of a few surprises coming and hope for continued provision from above.

Enough of me yapping. On to the retrospective!

January:

2023 began as it ended: with an epic amount of rain and snow. Atmospheric rivers slammed into the area in rapid succession, leaving deep snow and ample water. The Shasta Valley, where Truchas Ridge is located, seemed like our home, as we were out there every opportunity we had. Normally a desert, it was not spared the fury of the storm. Snow and puddles reigned in places normally dry. It was magnificent.

February:

The second month of the year was much like the first. The freakishly heavy winter weather meant two things (aside from the fact that I was going to be clearing a lot of snow): there weren’t a lot of opportunities for capturing interesting images and when the storms did abate, the conditions were frequently gorgeous. A highlight for me was finding a rock arch out at Truchas Ridge.

March:

March was the culmination of winter. We had already been battered with storm after storm since November 1st but much of March saw successive 30 inch per night snowfalls. It was at this time that it started to feel oppressive.

Fortunately for my family, we had already planned a trip to Arizona in March. The trip could not have come at a more perfect time and we had a blast hiking the trails around Sedona and in the Sonoran Desert of southern Arizona. The saguaro are sublime.

April:

April saw the last vestiges of the snowy winter descend upon us. However, by the time Easter arrived, things were turning green, especially out in the Shasta Valley. Unfortunately, a great trauma afflicted Truchas Ridge and things have not been the same since. The matter remains unresolved but the land is already starting the healing process. More on this another time…

May:

May was the month where it felt like we finally emerged from the Long Winter. I burned nearly twice the amount of wood than I normally do, as temps remained not just cold but also snowy. However, by May the grass was well and green and the wildflowers were out.

With spring in full swing and the snowpack deep, that meant it was time to head to Yosemite to see how the waterfalls looked. It was pure magic.

June:

Halfway through the year, the weather continued to be wet. However, the storms were warm and didn’t leave a lot of snow. They did leave sublime conditions both in light and cloud. It also meant that between the warm weather and the storms, the rivers and creeks around Mount Shasta were in high vigor.  June 2023 was one of the prettiest Junes I can remember.

July:

Now in the waning half of the year, summer advanced with force. Warmer temperatures took hold, some days were even hot and the snow continued to melt on Mount Shasta. The melting of the snowpack as aided by the continued arrival of warm summer storms. July was far wetter than normal, much as it was last summer.

August:

Summer on Mount Shasta is glorious, as its fountains are full and the meadows laden with flowers. However, the middle of summer saw some of the strangest conditions I have witnessed in Mount Shasta. There were several storms that produced ample rain and really beautiful lightning. However, these only presaged the arrival of the remnants of Hurricane Hilary, which delivered a deluge of warm tropical rain. This melted the remaining snowpack with alacrity and sent a massive mudslide flowing down the side of the mountain all while depositing fresh snow around the summit of Mount Shasta. The mudslide began at around 12,000 feet on the mountain and flowed within two blocks of downtown. The massive mudflow was complimented by smaller (but still large) slides all over the mountain.

September:

Summer finally came to an end with Mount Shasta bereft of snow. This was odd since it had begun the summer with a deep snowpack but the hurricane remnants had finished that off with ease. In spite of that, the meadows were still full of wildflowers. It was a great time to get on the mountain.

October:

I love autumn and October is easily my favorite month of the year. The fall color, the low angle light, the way the air just seems to glow make it transcendent. October 2023 brought another eclipse. We were only at 90% occlusion but it bathed the middle of the day in an odd half-light. We watched the eclipse from Echo Point at Truchas Ridge. From there the sun was positioned just above Mount Shasta. Unfortunately I am not adept enough to capture conditions like that. It was an awesome sight anyway.

November:

As we neared the end of the year, the fall color continued, much to my delight. The Shasta Valley was also smothered in fog on many mornings early in the month. One morning I was at Echo Point for the sunrise and between fog, cloud and vista, it made for one of the best sunrises I have seen in a while. The dance of light and water vapor is mesmerizing.

November also meant that I was able to take my family on a quick trip back down to the desert, this time to Bryce Canyon and Zion in southwestern Utah. We had hoped to catch Zion when all the cottonwoods were in the autumn splendor. Boy, did we! Bryce was also superb. That whole trip was a blast, despite some of the kids getting sick.

December:

December has been a blur. So much life seemed to eclipse getting outside. Nonetheless get out I did, if only for briefer and shorter efforts. Perhaps the next year will give me more opportunities. When I did get out, however, the mountain has been as beautiful as ever!

May the Lord bless as we careen into  what may be a tumultuous and interesting 2024!

2024 started with clear sky and fresh snow. We have had several small weather systems swing through the area but the temperatures haven’t dropped enough to really deliver the snow like we want. It has brought rain and that means that there is still new snow on the higher mountains. Mount Shasta in particular has been the recipient of a lot of snow above 6,000 feet. This means that the conditions are getting good for the morning and evening light on the fresh, icy conditions. That means I need to get out when I can to see how it looks. New Year’s Day presented one such opportunity.

Sunrise was quiet and cold but the mountain was radiant. It was an odd sunrise, with the light starting off very muted but as the sun rise it cleared some obstacle in the distant east and Mount Shasta finally erupted in vivid light. When there are no clouds in the sky, the only really good places to be for sunrise is on the south and east sides of the mountain. There aren’t a ton of places with good views from those angles that aren’t time consuming to get to, when you are still groggy and don’t have a lot of time before the light hits. Fortunately, I got to a good one and could see the frozen crags burst with color.

Sunset presented the opposite challenge. There are plenty of good places to see the mountain on the west side. However, getting to one in the midst of all the activity of New Year’s Day wasn’t easy. I was able to time things so that I was heading into town as the sun was setting and so was able to stop and capture the light rising off the mountain. The color didn’t last long though and the soon it was gone altogether. My trip had been well-timed.

One interesting feature was the abundance of ski trails visible to the naked eye on Mount Shasta. The weather has not dropped enough snow at the ski park to get things going there but has left plenty of backcountry skiers and they have taken full advantage of the opportunity afforded them. Tracks from ascending climbers and glissade chutes are also evident. Avalanche Gulch looks like it has been well enjoyed.

I did a really bad thing and bought a new telephoto lens for my camera. I have wanted to get one for a while and finally bit the bullet and did it. I have one that I carry around with my camera when hiking but it is not nearly as powerful as the one I just acquired. Hopefully this will bring a new dimension to what this site is able to write and show about Mount Shasta. I have only been playing around with the lens for the last week or so and have already collected some interesting shots of the mountain in winter. All of these are worth enlarging, to really see the detailed geography on Mount Shasta.

Click to enlarge:

The first thing I did when I got the lens was walk out to my driveway and get a shot of the summit of Black Butte. The old lookout tower foundation is clearly visible and with far greater clarity than I was able to achieve before. This post has the best I was able to achieve of this with my older lens. I was pleased with my first attempt.

I swung north for sunset and zoomed in on the summit of the mountain. The level of detail I could capture was excellent. Several spires that have always fascinated me, particularly one on the north side just below the summit was particularly impressive when viewed with the telephoto lens.

I tried again the next day, this time from the west side, to great results. The crags on Casaval Ridge, as well as the Red Banks and Sargents Ridge were magnificent in detail. Being able to look closely at the intricate geography of the rock formations really opens up a lot of possibilities when contemplating Mount Shasta.

Next up was a view from the northwest. Again, the detail is great. I really liked being able to take in the cloudy conditions in the canyon between Mount Shasta and Shastina, where the Whitney Glacier lay hidden. The spires at the head of Diller Canyon also looked massive and mysterious.

Another sunrise, this time after the first really decent snow of the winter. I love snow banners blowing off the mountain, particularly as they catch the light at sunrise. Now I was really able to close in and observe them. Casaval Ridge is always a great place to observe this phenomenon. Not only is the ridge prominent and the wind blows powerfully against it but Avalanche Gulch is a great backdrop for the airborne ice particles.

The dynamic nature of the snow banners seemed like a good opportunity to try video through the new lens. I could have tightened the view closer, but trying to balance a framed image with how close to the target I wanted to get is a new challenge I will have to work through. Regardless, the lens yielded good quality video.

Of course, Mount Shasta is not the only object that draws the attention. Mount Eddy is also ultra-prominent and demands a certain amount of attention. However, from the east, it often seems like a large lump with few distinguishable landmarks. Yet when zoomed in, a lot of the mountain’s own unique geography becomes more apparent. In this case, the ridge that forms the southern rim of Eddy Bowl is far more dramatic when looked at up close.

One last sunset on Mount Shasta’s west face. The glow against the snow is pure magic. Rather than snow banners, the summit was putting out small waves of cloud, as though the mountain was a knife sticking up into a powerful air current.

It’s been fun looking at Mount Shasta in a new way. I am looking forward to the coming months to see more perspectives and conditions on the mountain through a different lens.

Photographing and writing about lenticular formations around Mount Shasta has always been one of my favorite things about this website. Lenticulars are grand formations and fleeting. They and majesty and beauty to Mount Shasta but then are gone, never to be seen again. In that way, they are like spectacular snowflakes, each unique and never duplicated.

It has seemed to me that for the last few years, the grand displays have not happened as frequently as they did for the first several years I lived in Mount Shasta. From October through April one always anticipated three or four really magnificent events and several smaller, but still awesome, formations as well. The really big ones just seem fewer and further between. Anecdotally, I had to go all the way back to the beginning of April to find a post on this site dedicated solely to a lenticular event. There have been some good ones since, but nothing that rose to the level of warranting a dedicated post. Thankfully, that drought has finally come to an end!

Before getting there, please allow me to backup a bit.

We finally got some good snow. I had about 2 feet at my house last weekend. I continued to head out and play with my new lens, really trying to explore Mount Shasta’s geography up close. There’ll be more on that later. The great thing was Mount Shasta was icy and forbidding but glowed welcomingly in the sunlight. The fresh snow really highlights the mountain’s terrain.

The storm came in two waves. The first deposited a lot of snow in the Shasta Valley. I had hoped it might last long enough to get a snowy shot from Echo Point but that was not to be. The second wave of the snow was warmer in the valley and the snow melted. However, the meager reflection pools were swelled by rain and melted snow.

I went out to the valley to investigate the reflection. When I arrived, the wind was fierce, rendering any chance for a reflection shot moot, despite the fact that the pools had grown to expansive size. I decided to sit and wait for just a bit, waiting to see if the wind died down. I reckoned that if nothing else, the sunset would provide another opportunity to play with the new telephoto lens.

I certainly did that! Without much warning, a small wisp of slipstream trailing off of Mount Shasta’s summit began to grow into a disk and then proceeded to form stacks. I had not anticipated a lenticular at this time, but a small but excellent formation had suddenly been made manifest.

Given it’s small size and proximity to Mount Shasta, this was indeed a great opportunity to play with the lens, allowing more detail on both mountain and cloud. Looking up close, the clean lines of the lenticular are a dramatic contrast to the gnarled crags of Mount Shasta. Getting a good look at both in detail was rather exciting.

As the sunlight crept upward on the mountain, the last bit turning color before darkness descended, the lenticular began to grow. As it did, it’s clean lines became more indistinct. The size did manage to catch more light, making the last bits of alpenglow a beautiful spectacle until, with no warning, the light was gone. It had been an unexpected but excellent sunset!

Two days later, a large storm was arriving, forecasted to bring over three inches of rain. A system of this fury meant the potential for interesting things to happen in the sky around Mount Shasta. However, it also meant that the sky might be too stormy to permit any light through to make it interesting. A delicate balance in conditions that make capturing images a frustrating endeavor at times.

I headed out to the pools in the valley and found the air still enough for a bit of a reflection. Sure enough, there was a bit of a lenticular cap covering the upper flanks of Mount Shasta. More importantly, a massive cloud was taking shape to the northeast of the mountain. This one had potential, if the conditions would permit it.

As the morning progressed, the light actually improved considerably. The massive cloud hovering near the mountain loomed but lacked impressive shape. However, the cap on the mountain had developed really clear layers and was starting to glow in the morning light. While I like these kinds of lenticulars, they are not my favorite, generally speaking, since I can’t see most of the mountain.

Admittedly, this one looked better than many of its ilk, since had a variety of layers of different sizes and the layers had good definition. These kinds of clouds are always in flux, its shape constantly changing. Though they retain an overall appearance, all their smaller details can be different in an instant. This specimen was fun to look at through the telephoto, especially since landmarks like rugged Casaval Ridge added a lot of interest beneath the waves.

By the afternoon, the situation had been completely reversed. The cloud on Mount Shasta had lost all of its definition, forming a gauzy layer just above the summit. Furthermore, the mountain was completely in shadow, with no light hitting it whatsoever. The situation could not have been more different with the looming formation to the northeast. Where before it was lacking much shape, it now was a colossal stack of disks. Beneath the stack was a roiling layer of cloud that was racked with great turbulence. The entire seen was epic. It had been a long, long time since I have seen a cloud of this magnitude form near Mount Shasta.

As sunset approached, I headed back to the pools in the Shasta Valley. Not surprisingly, the pools were not offering much reflection due to the wind. However, the view was fantastic, as the cloud over Mount Shasta had a more appealing form from the north and the giant stack hovering nearby was absorbing the late afternoon light. The entire seen was astonishing. Truly, this is a land of giants.

We are in the midst of a series of small atmospheric rivers traveling through the Mount Shasta region. This is nothing like the torrents that swept through last year, but it has meant a steady dose of precipitation for the last several days. Wednesday was the crescendo, with more than two inches of rain falling. It has not been any where as copious as last winter, but the amount of moisture is slowly building into a decent snowpack.

Last weekend the weather was gorgeous and I was able to get out for a couple of hours to continue playing with my new lens. This was a real treat, since the passing storms have left Mount Shasta’s crags rime-encrusted, rendering them as glittering jewels amidst the winter sunlight. I can’t not capture these…though I confess I am still getting used to the new lens and my framing may not be very good. Nonetheless, I think this is an interesting perspective on Mount Shasta.

The images of Mount Shasta’s features are worth enlarging and zooming in, to see the rugged detail.

With Bunny Flat up close to many excellent features on Mount Shasta, that seemed like the natural starting point for this visual exploration of the mountain. I always gravitate to Casaval Ridge, one of Mount Shasta’s most rugged features. Massive rock towers line the crest of the ridge which resembles and andesite stegosaurus.

A haze hung around the summit of Mount Shasta. It was hard to tell whether it was cloud or fresh snow being blown up into the air. The swirling gave the mountain a kinetic feel, obscuring crags and revealing them again.

Shastarama Point was a highlight of the view from Bunny Flat. From the west, the looks like a massive molar jutting up from Sargents Ridge. Interesting at all times, now Shastarama Point was covered in rime ice, the frozen residue of passing clouds. The ice highlighted every crevice and rib on the rock.

Moving south, Shastarama Point remains prominent, rising in the close foreground beneath the spires clustered around Thumb Rock. These formations are remnants of early eruptive activity that formed the Sargents Ridge eruption cone.

This edition of my survey of Mount Shasta’s frozen heights concluded with a view of the northwest side of the mountain. Here the crags of Shastina are in line with the summit of Mount Shasta. All glazed with rime ice, they glistened in the sunlight. For a long time I have thought that Mount Shasta, when viewed from this angle through a telephoto lens, looks more like an entire mountain range, than a solitary peak.

The next day brought turbulent weather. The sky seemed sedate in the morning but grew more and more chaotic as the day progressed. By evening, there was definite lenticular activity afoot. I had to get out to document it…

The position of the cloud when I headed out made the northern perspective the best place to go. I considered heading up to Truchas Ridge but when I saw how still the air in the valley was I decided the reflection pools were a good bet. When I got there, there were actually three lenticulars forming: one stack over the mountain, a bulbous cluster to the east and an elongated one hovering to the west. It was certainly one of the better lenticular formations of the season.

As the alpenglow set in, the clouds suddenly collapsed. The small formation to the east was gone, but the stack and western, elongated cloud to the west began to reform. In short order they had merged together, combing elements of both the stack and the long cloud. The light was fantastic and reflecting in the pools it made for a glorious sunset. It was certainly one of the best ones of the year thus far!

The turbulence that had produced the lenticular was heralding the coming of a new storm system, the one we are currently in the midst of. The next morning, the sky was full of awesome clouds and fantastic color. Sadly I had to both take my kids to school and then stay there and teach Latin for the next hour and a half. Any chance of getting out to document the spectacle was gone. All I could do was stop and capture an image showing only a fraction of the interesting things going on. It is much, much better than nothing, but still I lament the missed opportunity.

After class, I felt unleashed, so headed out to see how the clouds had progressed as the power of the incoming storm intensified. The western side of the mountain had a nice dome of a lenticular on it, but it seemed the north might be more interesting, so I headed in the direction. When I got to a good vista, the wind was buffeting my car powerfully. Overhead, waves of cloud washed over the summit of Mount Shasta. The massive canyon between the summit and Shastina was cast in a strange half light.

Lower down the flanks of Mount Shasta, the same wind the propelled the clouds was whipping the snow into an incredible frenzy. Swirling in the air and blowing in streams along the rocks, the it was an incredibly kinetic display of wind power and one that was strangely beautiful.

I tried to document the wind-driven snow but even using my car as a shield against the wind, my tripod was still buffeted by powerful winds. In the clip, note how the snow blown into the large gully in the center flows like water down the gully, rather than continuing on to the precipice on the left.

Heading back home, I stopped to capture video of the clouds sailing past the summit of Mount Shasta. Though never precisely replicating their shape, there was an obvious repetition as the flew past the rock. It makes me wonder at the air currents propelling the cloud forward.

I decided to make one last stop at Springhill Road. The lenticular over the mountain had extended itself out into wispy tendrils, casting linear shadows on Mount Shasta. It was a really effect, one I had not seen before. These may have been an exaggerated form of the ways I had seen to the north, but from a different perspective.

In the end, it was a dramatic day in the sky above Mount Shasta. Where before I had been focused on the frigid heights of the mountain and then the lenticulars that followed, it was a great day seeing both elements combined. I have lived at the foot of the mountain for 16 years now and I continue to be surprised by the grand mountain and its domain.

Mount Shasta laden with snow and the scars of a large avalanche visible.

While the winter thus far has not produced a copious amount of snow at the lower elevations, there has been a substantial amount of rain. Naturally, this has fallen as snow at higher elevations and Mount Shasta has developed a decent snowpack. The last storm system to pass through the area unleashed an incredible amount of precipitation, with the dichotomy of rain lower down and snow higher up once again prevailing. However, once the clouds cleared, Mount Shasta was revealed to have a large trophy from the latest deluge.

Avalanche Gulch, the great, glacier-carved valley on the mountain’s southwestern flank has not received its name for no reason. Once again, a substantial avalanche has raced down the layered slopes, breaking off around 11,000 feet and finally coming to an end below the treeline, at about 7,500 feet. These kinds of avalanches do not happen often, but Mount Shasta has produced two of this magnitude in the last few years.

Only a few have been able to visit the enormous track of the avalanche, as Everitt Memorial Highway has been closed since the storm. Nonetheless, sharp eyes can spot a lot of the avalanche’s track and the area it broke off from.

The avalanche began when a large sheet of snow broke off Sargents Ridge, near the center of the image. It then raced downward, weaving between the folded hills that occupy the center of Avalanche Gulch.

Breakaway zone and subsequent track illustrated.

A somewhat closer view of the source of the avalanche, just right of center. This is just above Helen Lake. The area that broke away looks to be nearly 400 feet high and maybe 600 feet across. It is hard to estimate how deep that sheet was but I would guess maybe 20 feet deep. If those estimated dimensions are correct, that would mean the avalanche contained about 5,000,000 cubic feet of snow.

I have no idea how fast the avalanche traveled, but I am sure it was not slow. I would have certainly hated to be in its fearsome path. The above image is a closer view of the track the event left. Overall, it looks like the snow traveled nearly 2.5 miles from the point it broke away from Sargents Ridge. Where the track disappears into the trees in the lower right of this image, the avalanche still had over a mile to travel down Avalanche Gulch. It really highlights the scale of Mount Shasta overall.

Meanwhile, life continues apace around the foot of the mountain. Winter persists, more snow, this time at lower elevations, looms in a few days, and spring draws nigh. The Shasta Valley, loaded with water from all the rain, continues to draw my attention, even in the few moments I can spare. I can’t get enough of the reflections in the fleeting time they are possible. However, it is good to remember the countless other vistas that grace this incredible land.

True to the pattern, life has been pretty busy lately, and as always, I am finding it hard to get a few moments scrapped together to write anything. Here and there I have been chipping away at some bigger posts, some gestating since last fall. Hopefully they may see the light of day soon. This is fitting, as the sun has finally reemerged from behind the storms and spring weather is at last starting to make itself felt. I feel a new burst of energy and creativity mounting, slowly drowning the demon of winter sloth.

Momentarily shaken from my hiemal slumber, I headed out early Wednesday morning on the intuition that there might be a lenticular. Much to my satisfaction, there was indeed a nice cloud on the mountain…and nothing else. No hazy clouds to catch the morning light or any other interesting conditions. I must be getting greedy or apathetic when a nice lenticular on Mount Shasta is not filling me with awe. I am not sure which I am guilty of but neither gives me comfort in introspection.

In spite of my shortcomings, I captured some images of the cloud and then headed home. Throughout the day, I kept an eye on the cloud. It had expanded, folded out and overwhelmed Mount Shasta, covering the mountain in a vast white sheet. The possibility of the cloud failing for sunset seemed real. Fortunately, it finally seemed to recoalesce into something as the afternoon progressed.

I headed out to Echo Point, which I had not been to for a couple of months. It had been a combination of business, weather and mud that had prevented me from visiting the most favorite of spots. I was glad to get back and greet an old friend. The lake in Echo Basin was full and the grass just barely beginning to green up. It is a spectacular vista…

The lenticular itself had nearly collapsed, but a slim version of its morning self still clung to the summit of the mountain. It was enough and with the grandeur of the entire scene, I was glad I had come.

Sunset came and alpenglow washed over Mount Shasta. The little lenticular hung on long enough to add a little nuance to the beautiful image before me. It was great to be outside, to watch the waning light on the grandest of alpine tapestries, great to feel the not warm but definitely not cold air and to hear the wind blowing through the trees and rocks. Spring is coming.

I think I have been apathetic, not greedy. I am committed shaking that rat loose and sending him packing. There is too much blessing in this world to waste time with that.

The large beaver pond at the start of the Lundy Canyon trail gives hints of grandeur to come.

This is a bit of an off topic post for a site focused on the Mount Shasta area but I have hand long established precedent of writing about…wherever interests me. The Sierra Nevada certainly interests me (as it should any hiker) and this has a personal element to it as well. That said, I appreciate the indulgence.

If you were to ask me 20 years ago to enumerate a top 10 list of hikes in California, the list would absolutely include the hike through Lundy Canyon up into the 20 Lakes Basin.

In my opinion, few hikes can match the fullness of attributes that made this hike the greater sum of the parts. Beginning at a series of beaver ponds, the trail winds through wildflower choked and the many-hued cliffs of Lundy Canyon. Entirely within the terrific Hoover Wilderness, the path parallels Mill Creek, which crashes over a series of large waterfalls. Eventually the trail turned south and made a long series of switchbacks up the side of the canyon, climbing alongside a waterfall plunging hundreds of feet down the cliffs. Eventually reaching the top of the canyon, the trail leveled off, left the artist’s palette of many colored rocks and made a loop through the granite wonderland of the 20 Lakes Basin. While visiting half the namesake lakes of the the basin, hikers are perpetually treated to views of lordly Mount Conness and the serrate visage of towering North Peak. Then, completing the loop, it’s back down into Lundy Canyon soaking up incredible vistas the entire way.

It may be noted that the past tense is used in describing this route. This is because the connecting trail that ascended the talus clinging to the cliffs of Lundy Canyon was, sadly, wiped out by a rock slide sometime around 2005 or 2006. The trail, though utterly spectacular was likely built originally by 19th century miners (probably). Though it was well built, it was never a properly engineered trail. Once it was ruined, the unstable talus does not seem like a strong candidate for the Forest Service to build a proper path. Consequently, the once grand hike is now sundered and two hikes exist where a single mind-blowing hike once delighted hikers.

I bring all this up because the last time I made the complete hike was in the summer of 2004. I had recently gotten my first digital camera and while making the ascent out of Lundy Canyon, I used the video feature to capture footage of the awesome waterfall that hurtles off the cliffs and falls within feet of the ascending trail. I had long-ago lost track of this footage when retiring my older computers and it was not until this past week that I found the hard drive that contained. I was ecstatic to find it and other seemingly lost footage. Though the quality is not good, it gives a good sense of how magnificent the scenery on this hike was.

Hopefully the video conveys a sense of wonder and scale and the magnitude of landscape’s grandeur. It is difficult for me to express how stunning the whole vista is. The trail switchbacks up the talus chute and sections of bedrock while the creek is diving hundreds of feet down the cliff. One can feel the spray of the falls while hiking, feel the wind of the displaced air and marvel at the immense spectacle, which takes the sting out of the climb up to the 20 Lakes Basin.

While I am thrilled to find the video, I must confess a bit of melancholy to think that this iteration of the hike is no longer feasible without some rugged talus scrambling. This trail is missed.

It is perhaps fitting then to remember the glory of the hike though images. I consider this more of a wake than a eulogy, but in the end, the images speak for themselves…

The trail starts off almost overwhelmingly. After 0.25 miles of hiking through aspens, the path reaches an epic beaver dam that has impounded a mammoth beaver pond. It is fair to classify this as a beaver lake rather than a pond. This dam has been broken by flooding a few times but they keep coming back and reconstructing it. Note just right of center the twin waterfalls pouring into the far end of the pond. A large beaver lodge is visible just below the falls.

Continuing past the first falls, the trail runs alongside Mill Creek as it flows over one cataract after another. The water makes a vigorous, frothy descent down the canyon. Framed by towering cliffs and flanked by meadows and wildflowers, it is paradise.

The trail eventually makes the ascent up the side of the canyon. The above image is taken halfway up, at the top of a series of switchbacks built into the talus slope. Though they are hard to discern here, there is indeed a path built out of the rock. This is the section that gave way and was lost.

The above image is higher up, near the top of the ascent. This is looking down almost the entire distance climbed by the trail. Note the switchbacks built onto a rib of bedrock on the center left. This part of the trail is still extant and is the section that runs alongside the massive waterfall pouring out of the 20 Lakes Basin.

Once on top, the trail levels off and makes an incredible loop through the 20 Lakes Basin. Not only is there an abundance of lakes as one might guess, but there is an overabundance views of the northern end of the High Sierra. Located near treeline, the alpine vistas are rarely filtered by forests, but the loop offers ever changing perspectives and diverse geology. This (admittedly inferior) image, taken from Steelhead Lake, shows the transitions from the red sedimentary rocks on the far right to the gray metavolcanics in the center to the white granite on the left. It’s a stunning geologic mélange.

A highlight of the loop are the near constant views of stately Mount Conness. This may be the northernmost peak in the Sierra Nevada to exceed 12,500 feet (I did a quick survey, but nothing exhaustive). Graced by remnant glaciers and soaring granite cliffs, Conness is one of northern Yosemite’s most iconic peaks.

The rugged visage of jagged North Peak looms nearby, providing a thrilling backdrop to the loop through the 20 Lakes Basin. Though Mount Conness is more majestic, North Peak may have the more compelling appearance, with its awesome cliffs looming a seeming stone’s throw from the trail. Glacier fed cascades pour down the cliffs below the peak, filling the air with the sounds of crashing water.

From there it was all downhill back to the trailhead in Lundy Canyon.

There is still a lament the loss of the entire experience of connecting Lundy Canyon to the 20 Lakes Basin. Perhaps one of these days I will check out the old route and see how feasible an ascent may still be. Thankfully both areas remain accessible and each demands to be experienced, even if by other avenues (in the case of the 20 Lakes Basin).

I am grateful to have recovered the footage I had of the waterfall along the Lundy Canyon ascent. It is the sinew that connects two very different halves of a once great hike and was, in many ways, the highlight of the whole hike. Looking at all the parts, their blinding beauty, staggering scale and perfect arrangement, I am not sure what argument could be made that this did not belong in the uppermost tier of California hikes.

A wing-like lenticular cloud clings to the summit of Mount Shasta.

I’ve had this in my docket for a week and haven’t been able to just sit down and get it out. As the saying goes, better late than never.

Easter is often a day when many are up at sunrise. I thought it a good day to be so as well and since the weather was cold but clear, I decided to head out myself. It was gratifying to see that a slight sliver of lenticular was forming on the top of Mount Shasta. I reckoned it a good opportunity to head over to the McCloud side of the mountain to catch the morning light. When I go there, it was frigid and clouds were moving in from the east. These had blocked the light as the sun should have been breaching the horizon. I was dismayed at the lack of timing but then, in a burst of radiance, Mount Shasta was lit up in orange once again. It was excellent.

Looking through the telephoto lens, I could see the snow swirling in the wind and the lenticular cloud sailing past the summit. The dark towers of Sargents Ridge loomed beautifully over the alpenglow drenched Mud Creek Basin. I love these conditions, when the towers have shed their freshest snow and the red and purple rock contrasts against the white expanse of the ridge. Through the lens, the wind-sculpted banks added a great deal of beauty to the long slope above Clear Creek (far right of this image, click to zoom in).

When the light finally evened out and the glow had washed away, I packed up my gear and headed home. Rounding the mountain, it was obvious that the sun had not yet reached any part of the west side of Mount Shasta. However, the lenticular seemed to be breaking apart and losing its cohesive shape. The wester edge was particularly dramatic, flinging what looked like tendrils of flame out into the sky. At times, it looked like a solar flare erupting out of the mountain.

By sunset, the lenticular was gone but Mount Shasta still had lots of clouds around it to catch the alpenglow. Shadows cast, colors bathed and snow banners caught the dying light of the setting sun in all of its Easter glory. It had been a good day and I was grateful to be able to begin and end it looking at the mountain awash in color. It’s a gift, one I find increasingly hard to claim the time for these days, but my gratitude is undiminished.