Father-and-Son Time
Making memories on historic volcano
By Gary Fallesen
“I lift up my eyes to the mountains – where does my help come from? My help comes from the Lord, the Maker of heaven and earth.” -Psalm 121:1-2
It was the great American photographer Edward Weston who observed: “Everything in the West is on a grander scale, more intense, vital, dramatic. Forms are here which never occur in the East – in fruits, flowers, vegetables, in mountains, rocks and trees.”¹
That may explain why Weston’s photograph of Mount Lassen made such a lasting impression on me and inspired me to climb this 10,457-foot volcano in northern California. We don’t have volcanoes back East, and this mountain certainly looked grand and intense in his photograph (probably taken in the 1930s).
Two years after seeing it in the exhibit In Praise of Nature: Ansel Adams and Photographers of the American West, I was driving north on Interstate 5 with my 13-year-old son, Jesse, when Lassen appeared on the horizon. We were headed in its direction, a father and son on retreat to share some time and a love of creation.
Time is not something people freely give each other, whether you’re a parent or a child. I would explain later to my son that our Father in heaven is with us all the time. But most of us are guilty of ignoring Him, too.
Yet He patiently waits for us to turn to Him, be it on a mountain in the Cascade Range or somewhere less dramatic.
In Psalm 121, which is called “A Song of Ascents,” it says: “He will not let your foot slip – He who watches over you will not slumber … The Lord watches over you – the Lord is your shade at your right hand; the sun will not harm you by day, nor the moon by night. The Lord will keep you from all harm – He will watch over your life; the Lord will watch over your coming and going both now and forevermore.”
He watched over us as we came to and went from Lassen Volcanic National Park. He did not let our feet slip as we ascended about 2,000 feet in 2.4 miles to the summit on a clear, but windy Sunday in August 2003.
The temperature was in the 50s that mid-summer morning when we began our hike. In 40 minutes, we covered the first mile, climbing about 800 vertical feet. It was an easy walk. “All that running at the track is paying off,” Jesse said along the trail.
We reached the two-mile point in 1½ hours. Only another 500 vertical feet remained. When we topped out we were greeted by exposure to the 20-to-35-mph breezes and an incredible view of Mount Shasta about 80 miles to the north. A scramble to the summit proper allowed a view of the drop-off to the volcano’s “Devastated Area,” several thousand vertical feet of barren terrain now bordered by a regrown forest.
Lassen is one of only two active volcanoes in the contiguous United States; the other being Mount Saint Helens in Washington. While Saint Helens erupted in 1980, Lassen has been quiet since 1921. In May 1914, Lassen began a series of explosions, the biggest occurring in 1915 when a mushroom cloud blew seven miles into the sky. The area was declared a national park in 1916 because of its significance as an active volcano.
The so-called “Devastated Area” is to the northeast of the peak. The trail leading to Lassen’s summit approaches from the south.
The hike up is described as “strenuous” to those who aren’t experienced climbers, which would be many of the huffing-and-puffing, blue-jean clad tourists we saw attempting the walk up carrying only a water bottle, if that.
With winds gusting to near 40 mph on the summit, the windchill was close to freezing – something many of those in T-shirts and running shorts must have been feeling. We were prepared for any conditions and put on warmer hats, fleece jackets, and liner gloves.
The conditions probably were similar to the first ascent by William Brewer and Clarence King on Sept. 26, 1863. Brewer, who called the view from the top “grand,” wrote in his journal: “The day was not entirely favorable – a fierce wind, raw and chilly, swept over the summit, making our very bones shiver.”²
We retraced our steps down, moving at a relaxed pace as scores of people went by in the other direction attempting an afternoon ascent. It was nearly 70 degrees in the parking lot, explaining why so many on top were so under-dressed. They had no idea what was in store for them as they lifted their eyes up to the mountain.
The roundtrip took us 3¾ hours, less than the 4-to-4½ hours recommended for the hike. We were a father and son who comfortably completed a joyful climb. Or, perhaps better yet, we were two sons who’d just gone for a walk with our Father.
Footnotes:
¹Nyerges, Alexander Lee, In Praise of Nature: Ansel Adams and Photographers of the American West (The Dayton Art Institute, 1999).
²Mazel, David, Pioneering Ascents: the origins of climbing in America, 1642-1873 (Stackpole Books, 1991).
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