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Our failed attempt to climb Mt Tallac was a trial by snow, ice, shrubs, loose rocks, and rushing creek water. You might call us daring or stupid after reading this. Regardless of what you think, this hike has become the toughest hike I’ve ever done in my life, and perhaps the most exciting one as well.
First, I want to acknowledge all the brave souls who endured this hike: Lily Zheng, Cindy, Charles, Milton, Lily’s coworker Jeremy (who also went to Berkeley with Lily and me) and his wife Anthea, and Lily’s coworker Andrew.
We arrived at the trailhead a little bit after 9 but were unable to find where the trail started. The road ended in the middle of a sparse fur forest, with couple of summer houses standing nearby. After reading the trail description, something like: this is a popular trail in winter time…you hike half a mile in a fur forest, then you reach an opening, then you just go for the top. We decided to forge ahead until we reach the aforementioned opening. We figured that it must be like Shasta, where there is no trail and just an open field leading all the way to the top. This was going to be a piece of cake!
We got all our gears and started to go up. Charles had the heaviest pack of all. He even brought his snow board, which when strapped onto his giant backpack, was a full foot above his head. I had my camelbak with 3.5 liters of water and food, weighing 10 lbs at most. Andrew appeared to be the least prepared of us all: carrying only a small pouch around his waist with 1 liter of water. Only Charles, Cindy, Milton and I brought walking/skiing poles. Among the eight of us, we rented 6 pairs of snow shoes, which were the last 6 rental pairs in the entire bay area on Friday. Charles has his own snow shoes.
As soon as we started walking, we encountered an ocean of dense shrubs that came to about waist high (see photo). There was no trail in sight. The only thing we could do was to either part them, or step on top of them. There was no escape from these dry shrubs with scales and thorns. Everywhere we turned, the ground was packed full of them! We got whipped and poked over and over again on our legs and arms. We were all smiling in the photo, but we were really just smiling for the picture! Cindy soon put on her brand new waterproof jacket to protect her arms from getting shredded. I pulled out my spare socks to cover my hands. Folks who brought gloves were very very lucky! Lily’s coworker Andrew was the true master on this mountain. He was going up so fast that we couldn’t even see him most of the time. He periodically turned back looking for us, and darted away like a mountain goat. We speculated that he must have learned some martial art tricks from Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon, because he was scrambling up the hill as if he was floating on top of the shrubs. Later on Andrew would be hiking all the way up without snow shoes, offering to carry backpacks for the weariest of us, scouting new routes up and down the mountain, and doing all of these with a big encouraging grin on his face. If anybody deserves to be a sherpa (remember I use this term to honor the ones who are strong, agile, and selfless), Andrew is the one. I started to feel so sorry about Jeremy and his wife, who came to join us for a leisure hike but now were mired in shrubs!
The slope was pretty steep, but we were going so slowly, trapped in the shrubs, that we didn’t reach snow until 11am. At this point we have all developed a strong case of shrub phobia. We scrambled to the closest patch of snow and found it was so liberating without these damn shrubs.
However, now we had a new challenge. Right in front of us was a small stream separating us from the long stretch of that coverted snow leading to the hilltop. We had to cross it! Milton jumped across, but the rest of us were not as crazy as he was. We all knew not to cross a running stream no matter how shallow it was. Milton decided to make some footholds for us to cross. He dropped the biggest rock he could pick up, and spash!!! I was covered with water. Luckily my waterproof pants were truly water proof. However the rock was not that stable. We finally found a better spot and crossed the water one by one.
We started the trek up on brand new terrain. It was a very narrow patch of snow framed by dense shrubs on one side, and a steep snow covered bank (over 60 degrees) rolling into a stream 15-30 feet below. Out options were limited: fall to the left you get stabbed by shrubs, to the left, perhaps fall to your death. The snow rested on top of the same kind of dense shrubs that we just tore through, and there were hollow spots in the snow which made the hike nerve wrecking. Soon our shoes were all soaking wet except Charles, who was wearing his snowboard boots. Milton and Charles decided to put on snowshoes since they brought the damn thing up. Lily followed suit. However as soon as she put them on, she slipped and was rolling down the snow bank toward the stream. But this girl was quick enough to stick her make shift hiking stick (a dead tree branch she picked up earlier on) like an ice ax into the snow and held on to it. The tree branch broke into two, but her fall was arrested! At this point, perhaps we should be smart enough to turn back. But we kept going up the steep hill--at least 45 degrees. There was no place to rest since we couldn’t sit on shrubs, nor on the steep snow-covered slope. Shortly before noon, we finally reached a tree hole (a patch of dirt around a pine tree that was level enough for us to sit and rest). The eight of us squeezed in, ate our lunch, and wondered where this trail would lead (see the only group shots). The peak was still very high above us.
After lunch, we all put on snow shoes. It was easy going at first. The crampons at the bottom helped with the traction. Charles led the way and he created snow steps that made it easy for the rest to follow. Soon we had to go down to a depression, and going downhill was very tricky on snowshoes since there was no traction when you were going downhill. Milton invented a way to go backward and that helped. At one point we traversed across a very steep slope (over 60 degrees). Charles, who led the way, slipped and miraculously, he arrested the fall using a mechanism he couldn’t recall later on: it happened too fast. After this, we all discovered that when crossing a steep slope, we had to go side ways, parallel to the downhill direction while facing uphill. This is the only way our snowshoe crampons would work.
Once we reached the bottom of this depression, we had to go up again. This climb, about 300 feet long, was the steepest hill I’ve ever done. I estimated at certain spots, the slope was over 75 degrees. Had there been no snow, it would have been impossible for us to climb on dirt. Charles led the way with his giant pack, hacking out a stepped path for the rest of us. It must be exhausting work, and when he turned around, I saw he was completely drenched in sweat. Sherpa Charles!! The scene reminded me of the IMAX movie Everest: a stream of hikers hovering over snow, struggling against a landscape what was completely devoid of any animal or human treks, above us was this amazingly blue sky. Toward the top, Lily once again had a disastrous fall. This time she arrested her fall by sticking her face into the snow. You laugh, but later on I learned first hand, that trying to stick anything to arrest a fall takes lightening quick reflex and tremendous power, which I lack. The last stretch of this climb was a literally vertical snow bank. Charles managed to etch out a path for us. He and Milton got up first and helped the rest of us over it. At this stage, we were completely floored by what we had done. However, some distance above, Jeremy and Andrew were waiting for us. Andrew led Jeremy through an alternative path that didn’t involve going down to the depression and were ahead of us.
I climbed up to meet with Jeremy and Andrew, who had found another tree hole to rest. It was already 1:30pm. Although we’ve been climbing almost nonstop since 9:30, we estimated we only did about half of the vertical climb. At this point, we start to think about going down very seriously. Our original plan, formed while we were trapped in the shrubs, was to go all the way to the top and take an alternative route down. While fighting with these shrubs, I finally realized that why this was a WINTER route. In the winter, these shrubs would be under the snow and we’d have gone up much faster. But at this point, the prospect of back trekking through these damn shrubs was too horrifying. We also didn’t bring compass or GPS; so there was no guarantee that we could find our cars without a trail. We decided back then that it was best to push all the way to the top, then going down via the more manageable main trail, and find our car trekking on the highway. However, now it was 1:30pm, and it would take another 3-4 hours at our pace to reach the top. By then it would be too late. At this point, we were all seriously lost. Charles brought some nice maps but it was of little value without knowing where we were. We finally decided to hike up for another 30 minutes to see if we could get to a high enough spot to find an alternative way down, because as scary as the shrubs were, hiking downhill on steep snow banks was impossible with our current gears. We started heading up.
By now the snow had melted a bit and it was getting slushy. I climbed perhaps 30 feet above the tree hole, then I just lost footing in my right foot. I tried to shift weight to my left foot, but that foot started to slide as well. Before I could do anything, I was sliding downhill at a frightening speed. There was nothing I could do to stop. I tried to stick my hands into the snow but I was going so fast that the it was impossible. Milton and Cindy were right behind me at a slight angle (We were lucky enough to climb at a slight angle across the slope, not directly up). I could feel hands trying to grab me but slipped. I was thinking: holy crap, I am dead meat! It was 45 degree or more slope all the way down to god knows where. Fortunately, someone was looking out for me. I miraculously hit dirt and came to a screeching stop! I slid right into the same tree hole that we just took a rest a few moments earlier. I learned about coefficient of friction in physics before and let me tell you, this was first hand experience to see it at work! The COF of snow was a lot different from dirt. I was very shaken after this fall. The nozzle to my camelbak was stripped away while I was sliding down so when I got up, a huge amount of water dumped on my pants (once again, thank god I got these waterproof pants). Cindy actually saw something flew off while I went down and spotted my lost nozzle about 10 feet above the tree hole. I went up the slope again to retrieve it, and got up to the same place. Here I lost footing again despite going really carefully. After hitting the tree hole again (this time the experience was not that horrifying), I’ve completely lost my confidence on the snow. I decided to go up like Andrew, who were climbing along the edge of the shrubs. Milton came down to help me, and he lost his footing too! Luckily, he slid right into the tree hole as well. This tree hole deserves a medal for saving our lives!!!! However, he was having too much fun on the snow that he insisted that he would use snow shoes to go up. Cindy at this point was so alarmed after seeing both of us slide, that she continued her snow trek literally crawling on all fours.
I started going up by pulling on shrubs and stepping on the little bit of dirt between the snow line and the plants. It was actually a lot easier and safer than snow shoe. We soon converged on an exposed ridge. Above us, we saw the now formidable Tallac looming over us. Below, was the azure blue lake Tahoe and the beautiful fallen leave lake to the south. The view was gorgeous, but we were in deep sh!t. It was already 2:30pm. We still had about 1500 feet vertical to go. And the way we came up was too treacherous to go down. We decided to go down another path, although we didn’t know which. Lily quickly snapped a series of shots (all the pictures with lake(s) in the background were taken at this point). By now, we’ve also developed a strong case of snow phobia after all the sliding and falling. Andrew had spotted a mountainside with no snow and only a few low shrubs, which was made possible by the fact that the hillside was steep (at least 60 degrees) and covered with loose rocks. This was the kind of dangerous terrain that I would never have gone down in any other day. We were debating among ourselves when Athena decided to go ahead. We all followed suit and quickly realized that it was actually a lot easier and safer than the snow. We grabbed onto whatever stubborn trees and plants that managed to grow on the hillside, and went down rapidly. At this point Charles decided that he would snowboard down so he left the group looking for gentler snow slopes. Where we came from was too steep and narrow even for a master snowboarder like him. After descending about 400 feet in less than 10 minutes, we reached a flat section in the wood that had no snow and no shrubs. After hiking 6 hours, this was the first section that didn’t require 100% metal concentration and physical exertion. But soon the slope grew steep again and an endless stretch of dense shrubs appeared in front of us. Before we hit the shrubs again, we spotted Charles snowboarding down the slope about 1000 ft to the right. He came down gracefully and was heading our way.
This patch of shrubs was the mother of all shrubs. It put our earlier shrub experience to shame. If earlier on that was shrub nightmare, this was pure shrub hell! First of all, these shrubs were taller than a person. Second of all, they were incredibly dense; I sticked my hand in front of me and along the length of my palm I hit no less than a dozen branches. And I have tiny hands. We felt like tiny spiders trapped in the densest possible 3D spider web. Our arms and legs were completely wrapped in this web and the web would whip, stab, poke, and stick into us. If I just let myself fall face down, I would be held in mid air by all the plants. Most of the time my feet never touched dirt but landed on the tough and resilient branches that bent but never broke. I guess we weigh less than 50 foot of snow. Later one Charles told us that looking from where he was, we looked like a bunch of lost hikers trapped in shrubs, which was an accurate description of our condition. The shrubs were so thick and tall that I couldn’t even see the person in front of me. All I could follow were the moving branches. Milton commented that it reminded him of Jarassic Park, when the movement of the trees gave away the approaching predators. I didn’t know how charels managed to hike though this with his giant pack and snow board.
After an interminably long time, we finally cleared the shrubs and hit another flat section with no snow and shrubs. We realized that where there were tall trees blocking the sun light, the undergrowth would be manageable. We soon heard water running and decided to follow the stream down. From the map it seemed that several of the streams in the area would converge to where we parked. But once we got to the stream, we realized that following the stream was no easy matter. This was a very fast running stream with steep banks (60 to 70 degrees in some sections) on both sides with lots of shrubs (oh no, not shrubs again). But we had no other choice. We hiked for a while and my legs got very tired trying to hike side ways on the steep bank. Then Andrew appeared telling us that it was much easier to hike on the other side. Lily had enough of the steep bank so she headed to the stream. As I scrambled after her, a truly frightening scene unfolded in front of me. On the right, Lily was trying to cross the stream over a barkless broken log that was floating in water and only extended about 2/3 way across, and she had to get over a small branch that was 3 feet above the log. Scarier still, about 20 feet below her, Andrew was trying Milton’s earlier method of throwing rocks into the stream to build a crossing. But every single big rock he threw into the stream was washed away immediately by the rushing water. I screamed: ‘Lily, don’t cross!?But it was too late. This brave girl had reached the end of the log, grabbed a tree branch and pulled herself up the bank. She turned around and told me the log was actually very secure despite its shaky appearance. I put one foot on it, and she was right. I crossed the stream safely and other folks followed one by one. Lily and I were commenting how each person had their unique way of getting over the small branch that blocked the path above the log.
The other side of the stream was much easier to hike: flat and almost shrubless. But before long, the other side of the bank was looking better. So we decided to cross again. Milton found a section of the stream that was jammed up by several logs. We asked Andrew to cross first. By this time, he has proven beyond any doubt that he was the most agile member of the group by crossing the stream many times without making any fuss. He scrambled across the log quickly, but he also discovered that the water was very deep under the log. I was going to cross next. Lily tossed a big rock into the stream to secure the end of the log, however it didn’t do anything other than splashing water all over me again. Milton tried to hold on to the log with his feet when I was crossing, and the log sank under the weight of both of us! Now this crossing is ruined. Somebody shouted a bit down stream. He/she has discovered a falling log hanging 5 feet above the water. Now we need some balance beam action! The log was narrow and water was rushing furiously underneath. By this time, we were all numb from all the other daring feats we’d pulled off so we didn’t even question if it was a good idea to cross. Lily found a long branch (at least 12 feet long) to be used as a giant pole. I managed to cross half way holding on to the giant pole for balance, then I let the pole fall back for others to use. I was completely on my own for the next foot or so, then grabbed Andrew’s extended hand to cross the final portion. One by one, we crossed the stream this way.
By now it was getting dark in the woods. I was thinking perhaps we need to spend the night in the forest. We had no idea where we were, and had brought nothing for an overnight stay. Charles was more optimistic. He estimated that we counld’t be more than 400 vertical feet from the highway. We kept going down as fast as we could. The path after the last crossing was infinitely superior than before. Finally, we saw roof in the wood. And Cindy who was ahead let out the happiest yell we heard all day. She had spotted our cars!
This is truly amazing! After hiking almost 5 hours up, we managed to come down in two and half hours to exactly where we started with no trail, no compass, and no GPS!!! In one day, we have encountered the toughest hiking conditions and survived!
We congratulated each other in surviving this difficult and dangerous ordeal with only minor scratches. We were rather reckless going up the way we did. And we were very lucky that nobody was seriously injured and we found our cars.
Milton found a local by one of the summer houses and learned that there used to be a trail but the rangers had given up maintaining it.
We finished the day by BBQing a nice meal (salmon, ribs, chicken, mushroom and corn) by Lake Tahoe while enjoying a beautiful sunset. Amazingly, we were not that tired after this hike. After all, we only climbed at most 1500 vertical feet, about 3/5 of a Mission Peak. Nobody complained. We all thought this was a great hike, albeit one we would not repeat ever. Jeremy and his wife were not discouraged by this experience at all. They wanted to join us in our next hike, maybe even Shasta.
Lessons from this hike:
