One of those February Saturdays where it was freezing cold in the mornings and the temperatures rose to 40F in the afternoon. But I am tired of this cold weather running with multiple layers. I can manage such stuff on a weekday where I know I need to hit the laptop by 9:30 and I have nothing to do from the time I hit the kitchen for coffee before sunrise, apart from reading some old books. If I can’t step out by 8 a.m., then the fitness for that day already sees an early sunset. Early morning running ramblings are a topic for another day, but I somehow thought about Shasta when I tried to stitch my gloves with a sewing kit that I ordered from Amazon. There is a strong correlation between the gloves and Mt.Shasta. These gloves are 8 years old. Yes, 8yrs.
35F seems to be a normal temperature after moving to Utah, but it was torture when I used to drive north for 5 hours, sleep somewhere on the road, and try to climb Mt.Shasta on whatever face it was destined for that day. Mt.Shasta is a standalone 14er in Northern California, located in the Trinity National Forest. It sees a lot of climbers every year on all faces, where beginners try to climb the Avy Gulch, advanced folks on Casaval Ridge, and some strong climbers on the north side of the mountain, trying to hit the summit by crossing glacier crevasses.
Memories start rolling in when I think about this mountain, as I attempted to climb it four times on different faces from 2015 to 2018. I stood on that beautiful summit twice on glorious days. But I vividly remember the day when these gloves came in handy.
On a windy weekend, me and Nikhil drove to Bunny Flat Trailhead, where we prepared to attempt Casaval Ridge along with a guy named Brice from Minnesota.
Crampons started clunking around 4 AM, and we were on our toes by 6:30 AM, crossing easier sections and trying to defeat the wind on the top section of the ridge. It was a constant fight for almost an hour, when we decided to turn around and descend via the west face. We didn’t officially finish the ridge, but it’s better to be safe than get blown away on the summit. Nikhil started getting a fever and initiated the idea of descending. I was on the fence and leaning to descend, and Brice, on the other hand, was ready to tackle the wind by going up. I was feeling super cold after standing for a while when we needed to decide and split. I quickly changed from leather gloves to these mittens, and I was awestruck by the warmth they provided within 5 minutes. It felt as if whole energy returned to hands.
For an hour, the descent on the west face was pointing your toes towards the icy face, kicking each step 2-3 times to break the ice, and it was painstaking. Nikhil was fighting with the fever and descending at a good pace, and I kept an eye on the mountain in front and checked on him occasionally. He was slightly more experienced than me, and the emptiness on the mountain was more scary than the descent itself. After a while, it became simpler, and we were moving quickly towards the camp (a long way!). Out of all the 4 trips, I didn’t feel more relieved about reaching camp than on this trip.
A lot of things have changed since that day, and we climbed various places, but the gloves were still strong and bombproof, protecting me on cold days here in Utah. I try to protect them by teaching myself some sewing techniques when my wife is busy with her music and I lack motivation to run on this sunny, cold day. Inside boy in me complains about the sophistication I have to stitch them for some cents back in my town and raves about the need to handle such small stuff by placing an order on Amazon and not using that kit again, but for someone who lost thought about a mountain, that seems unimportant. When I bought them, I had no idea how good they were, and now that I know how strong they are, I can’t simply throw them away and buy another pair just because I can afford them. There is nothing to jinx here, as I still buy and return stuff, and my thoughts have nothing to do with environmental issues. They are just good gloves, and I try to keep them until the day when I feel they are fully torn. I look forward to more sunrises like this with them.
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