Memories of Mount Shasta. In recent times I have been in the habit of taking an annual vacation in the States- visiting my friends James and Komoot in San Fransisco then heading out to the backcountry for some hiking and camping. About now I would normally be poring over maps, assembling my gear etc. But not this year needless to say.

 So my mind has been turning to recollections of previous trips. Mount Shasta (there on the horizon) has been a feature of three treks in the vast wilderness known as the Klamath-Siskiyou region in Northern California/Southern Oregon.

 In 2016 I took the Amtrak Coast Starlight to Dunsmuir then headed to Shasta itself. I camped in the dense pine forest at about 7000 feet above sea level where the tree line meets the snow line. There are seven glaciers on Shasta and it's a popular destination for serious mountaineers (which I am not!).

 In 2018 I started once again from the railroad yard at Dunsmuir but heading away from Shasta- a 40 mile hike out to the slopes of Mount Eddy and back again. That was tough- steeply uphill for three days in blistering heat and the few streams en route for taking water were reduced to trickles.

 I followed a section of the Pacific Crest Trail which runs 3000 miles between the Mexican and Canadian borders- that's the PCT in the foreground of the photo. A foot sore thru-hiker told me he was finding this section tougher than the desert stages so I wasn't the only one feeling the heat. Every so often the wind would blow from the direction of Shasta bringing with it a delicious chill from the snow covered peak.

 In 2017 I hiked around the caldera of Mount Mazama also known as Crater Lake. Over a hundred miles separates these two volcanic features but I spotted Shasta on the horizon. A Park Ranger told me that the oral history of the Klamath tribes still refers to the eruption of Mount Mazama 7,700 years ago. Llao the Spirit of the Below-World broke through at Mazama and rained down fire on the local people. Skell the Spirit of the Above-World took pity on them and descended from the sky at Shasta. They hurled molten rocks at each other until Llao was driven back underground.

 Call it a myth or fable but perhaps contained within it is the ancestral memory of two volcanic eruptions.