Entry: Second attention "hits" from the Mystery -- sick with debilitating stomach flu two days before, opening, humbling and weakening me, then Rt.37 closed due to truck spill, necessitating long wait in traffic jam wondering what road to take. All working to loosen up "muscles of flexibility", to slow down, purify, and listen to deeper messages. On detour road drive past sculpture of a big pipe sticking out of the mouth of a rock overhanging the road--"yes, yes, I get it. Take in the medicine".
1st night
Arrive after dark, hike in several hundred yards from Bunny Flat since road is blocked at that point and can't drive any further. Mosquito people out in night-long fierceness attack. Whew. No fun, no sleep. Long night. Next day hook up with rest of the relatives and hike in to Sierra Club hut in under an hours time. Snow level just above our camp several hundred yards past the hut. After lunch, set up tents and take a snooze. Then hike up onto snow-covered slope to practice ice ax arrests. Serious learning with implications for safety of the climb, but on another level its kids playing in the snow having a great time. Thankful for yoga, aikido and T'ai Chi practice over the years helping to make the blend with physical, spiritual and psychological-mental demands of the climb.Eve of Climb Circle
Drum journey sending power allies up sacred Mountain to get guidance for tomorrow's climb. Clear instructions for me:"love everyone" and "enjoy each step" ; I.e., no judgements, extend unconditional love, and be present in each moment no matter what is happening with openness to Spirit and the gifts there in. Also,"The mountain will stop each person at the point of their Nierica--the doorway where their medicine awaits them".Climbing
Up at 2:30 a.m. to try and get as much of 3,000 foot Avalanche Gulf finished with before the sun hits and starts melting the snow, making the going that much tougher and releasing rock fall from above--all of which we ideally want to avoid. Intense heat and blasting sunlight rapidly melting the snow. We hike in the dark over rock and scree for almost two hours before we finally hit snow consistent enough to warrant putting on our crampons. Altitude taking its toll as we slowly move up towards Helen Lake, then into the steepest part of the Gulch. Snail pace. Two of our party have already met their nierica and been stopped. Time to gather their medicine, then head back down to basecamp.Meanwhile it's 100 carefully-placed steps on steep incline with head down, then look up, doing mantra all the while using it to maintain concentration and enjoy each step. The mountain is beautiful in its' awesome majesty, power, immensity. The view expands with each step upwards. Hard work, slow going. Right at the Heart of the Gulch the sun comes over the ridge plunging us into a desert-like vertical environment of snow and ice. Gasping for breath, boiling from exertion. It's some of the hardest work you'll ever do, but ahh, it's also glorious! We're in a fantastically beautiful place pulsating with power, occasional birds swoop over our heads, even a butterfly this high up wafts gently bye, crystals of snow glitter like diamonds, jagged cliffs to the west filled with frozen sculptures of guardian spirits. We're in a magical land, going forward, pushing past the comfort zone, giving it our best shot. What more is there!?
Far above, what seems like light years away, we can see our next destination--The Red Banks, volcanic cliffs with steep ice passageways that stand as sentry guarding the entry to the upper world of the Mountain. Patience, persistence, finding your rhythm, staying with it. Five, ten steps, then rest and recoup energy. Draw it up from the strength of the massive body beneath us. Draw it in from the clean, wonderful, but growing thinner air. Progress is agonizingly slow, but yes, we are progressing.
Upper World
At long last we gain the Banks, eat some lunch, then begin struggling up Motorcycle Hill whose summit ridge seems to keep receding into the blue sky with each step we take toward it. "Mis Misa" the Spirit of the Mountain, calls strongly to two more of our party stopping them in their tracks. They find a safe place to rest overlooking a vista that stretches out for hundreds of miles. They will wait here for the return of the two of us who move on towards the summit.Air is really thin here above 13,000 feet. We've been climbing for nine hours. Dehydrated, exhausted, but counting on resurgence of more energy that comes in cycles of exhaustion, then bursts of kupuri. Brother Rick comes on with power just as I am loosing it, and so we struggle onwards and upwards, encouraging each other and gaining strength from our teamwork and from the prayers of all those behind us. But then we hit energy-sapping disaster. I am breaking trail and instead of staying on the surface, I sink in up to my waist. I totally lose it, bursting out in profanity at the mountain, my ego personalizing this "attack" against me. Angry and frustrated, I rant and rave loosing more energy as I struggle to pull myself out of the morass of soggy, wet and heavy snow, sucking me down like quicksand. Rick is a hero, moves forward to take over breaking trail and my spirits rise as I follow his footsteps and the going gets a bit easier. "How easily I lost my goal of enjoying each step" I reflect to myself as we plod onwards. "How quickly I am to get triggered into ego reactivity totally blowing away any possibility of enjoying myself". "Man, I've got a lot of work to do!" Slowly it dawns of me that I can use each step of exertion to work with the teachings and opportunities available in this exact situation--see how my attachment to making the summit got in the way of my inner, and more important goal, to enjoy each step of the process. Without this latter goal achieved, what have I accomplished by reaching the top, but being miserable during the whole time of getting there? The external goal is important, yes, for it sets a direction. But then the process of how it is achieved is even more important for this is the one that determines the felt quality of our lives.
As I examine my reactivity, I see that in falling down into the loose snow, I am being pulled deeper into the heart of the mountain, also deeper into my connection with the Huichol power spirits that live deep in the body of the Earth. I am getting "grounded". I see that they all want my attention and are bringing my awareness to them, they want me to see something, they have medicine teachings for me that I totally miss when I give my power to ego identity, and rigid attachment to external goals. "Wake up, you have fallen asleep and lost sight of the guidance we gave you in your attachment to outcome. You have fallen into an ego dream and forgot our existence. We are still here for you offering wisdom gifts, but you have closed down. You have forgotten us and gone off on your own. Use the sweat of the exertion to release self-absorption and self-importance. Open your awareness back up to us, to the presence of Spirit, to enjoying this step, this moment, and the beauty and life that is available to you only right now in this sacred instant. Don't miss it, for If you do, you miss your very life!"
"Yes, it is all true". The fall into the loose snow is a gift. "Use it wisely" I remind myself, one step at a time. And so we truck onward and upward. We are now on aptly named Misery Hill. The sun is really beating down now, our energy tanks are running low, but hey, another 250 feet of elevation and half a mile of distance, we reach the summit. The mountain has other ideas however. As we stop to rest and gobble down some snacks to add some fuel to our spent tanks, we look down below us and much to our chagrin, a huge cloud front is moving in from the southeast. We watch it envelope the lower mountain. Suddenly all we can see below us is a thick blanket of white clouds. Nothing else. What should we do? We are soooo close to the summit, do we have to turn back now?
We debate the pro's and con's of continuing on, or going down so we don't get stuck on the mountain in a storm. That could be real serious, as in life-threatening serious. Rick points out that we have to be concerned about the fate of our two climbing partners waiting for us just above the Red Banks. They are totally lost to us now for we can see nothing but the white-out that has blotted out all viability. We decide to wait for ten minutes and see what happens. I ask the Great Spirit to help us see what course of action is for the greatest good of us all. I know what I want--keep going for the summit. But I have to be willing to surrender that for what is the wise, safe and prudent decision. Lives could be at stake. I remember another piece of guidance that came during last night's circle, a piece of guidance I learned during my first climb on this mountain almost twenty years before:
"Do Not Let Desire Impede Judgement".
Perhaps, if Rick and I were here by ourselves, then maybe we could finish the climb and jam on down back to the safety of basecamp. But we are not alone, we have others to think about, both here on the mountain with us, as well as family back home. "Give up, Surrender to Spirit" I remind myself. This is not about you. It is about growing in spiritual awareness. It is about opening to Higher Will and then acting in accordance with it, releasing personal agendas and realizing Sacred Mystery's will.
Ten minutes later the cloud cover is even thicker and Rick and I have our answer. I do a prayer of thanksgiving and tearfully release the ashes of brother Tom Dunphy to the winds of the mountain spirits. Then we take off our crampons and begin glissading down the mountain. This is fun now, like sliding down a three thousand foot sliding board. It takes mental concentration, physical strength and know-how of correct procedure to keep the ice ax in the right position to act as a brake and rudder to control the rate of descent. Go to fast and you lose control--and maybe more. People die up on this mountain and most of the deaths are during descent.We descend into the clouds and find our compadres in good spirits and good shape. We head over to the steep and treacherous Red Banks choosing our steps carefully. A slip here could be disastrous. But thankfully the clouds clear and we have safe passage through. The next few thousand feet we zoom down in safe glissade intervals covering what took hours and hours to climb in about twenty minutes of joyful descent! We hike back to basecamp over the scree of the lower elevations and arrive to totally unexpected delights served up by those of our team that had returned earlier to "hold the ladder" for those of us at the heights. A foot bath, a hot shower, delicious soup and tasty snacks, all served up by smiling relatives welcoming us back with big loving hugs.
Next morning we do a closing prayer of thanksgiving and hike on down to the car, then drive down the mountain to the retreat center where we will clean up and relax. That afternoon clouds come back in, but this time they stay there, and a lighting storm lashes the summit with searing blasts of power while a rain storm socks in the entire peak! Whew, glad we weren't there for that one! Thank you Sky Spirits. Thank you, thank you, Great Spirit. It could have been us up there. Don't let desire impede judgement. Yes, that is the way to go.
Next morning at the headwaters of the Sacramento River where we gather together with relatives of three generations to do our final completion ceremony, the question comes flying at us--"Did you reach the summit, did ya?! Did ya?! Well, no, we didn't reach the summit, but we did each find some gold that maybe we would have missed if we had not been open to the Spirit of the Mountain, "Mis Missa". If we had machoed our way to the top but lost our sensitivity to the deeper teachings, powered our way on through them because of our rigid attachment to external achievement, what would have been the gain? What would have been the loss? There is much more to climbing a sacred mountain-- a Wisdom Elder, then reaching the top. But then that is a truth that can only be known by those who make the effort. Words can not convey the depths of the Medicine Gifts for those of us who struggled together, who prayed and supported one another as a unified team. The mountain truly did stop each one just precisely where it had an important message, a teaching, that had vital importance for our lives. In the wordless confines of our hearts and spirits, we share a knowing through the comraderie of our adventure together. "No, we didn't make it to the summit", but, we all gained something that is higher than the top of the mountain. In our closing circle, three year old Carter, son of David and Doug, crying over the accidental death of an insect, reminded us "hardened" adults, about the reverence for life that a child is still in touch with at the depths of their soul. His touching reverence was a apt summation of the teachings of Mt. Shasta-- teachings from the depths of a very high and numinous place of power. "Don't miss a step. Love life now. Love everyone".
