Hikers and climbers with serious looking equipment and bulging backpacks crouched beside mud-spattered cars, making final adjustments to their gear. As we stared at the coils of rope, the ice axes and clanking rings of carabiners, we learned that this is the main starting point for serious rock climbers aiming for the summit. In spite of the fact that no trail reaches all the way to the top, 30,000 people a year try to reach Shasta's peak. Only about 3,500 of them actually succeed.

Panther Meadows
Two miles farther up the road we parked at Panther Meadows. At 7,200 feet, the shaded campground offered welcome respite from the 90 degree heat, and we easily found a picnic table. The thin mountain air, hot sun and cool breezes had sharpened our appetites, and there were no picnic leftovers for the shameless jays and squirrels.

"OK, let's see if we can find this sacred spring," said my son with a touch of skepticism in his voice. But once he stepped onto the meadow, all traces of doubt vanished. Sacred to the native Wintu Indians, many other Native American tribes and New Agers everywhere, Panther Meadows is one of the most beautiful locations on Mount Shasta, with the most pristine spring you will ever find. Everywhere, side paths veered off across the meadow. Rivulets of rushing water tumbled over stones, and tiny waterfalls appeared at every turn. Hiking half a mile and up another 300 feet in elevation with two little girls turned into a trip of many stops, but we pushed on, following two sounds: water and flute.

The mysterious flute music stopped before we reached the spring, and then a family of four approached us heading downhill, carrying flutes.

"Was that you playing the flutes?" I asked the teenaged girl.

"Yes," she answered, with a been-to-the-mountain-and-seen-God expression on her face. "We come several times a year to play for the mountain's spirit."

"It was pretty," said my granddaughter. "I wish you hadn't stopped."

Then she and her sister scampered the rest of the way across the meadow to the spot where the spring seems to rise right from the stones at your feet. It fills a small, rock-lined, crystalline pool with water the color of air. That's when the girls began acting as if they were in church. So did the rest of us.

Behind the spring, snow-capped Mount Shasta rose to the clear blue sky, and before us stood a grotto of trees and rocks, and all around us grew the wildflowers of the mountain's late spring. Small sounds became musical: footsteps on the dirt path, whispers of hikers as they paused at the gurgling spring, the wind in the trees, pine needles dropping through the branches, and everywhere the chuckling sound of the water. At the head of the spring stood a spontaneous shrine, just random offerings left by hikers: a pile of stones, an owl feather, an ace of hearts, a stick of incense, an earring and a small statue of Buddha.

Tears sprang to my eyes. I found myself trying to swallow around a lump in my throat. My daughter and I looked at each other. Her eyes were moist, too, and she reached out her arms and hugged me, wordless.

None of us spoke.

A peaceful place
Then up the trail came a young Native American man. He carried a tall, narrow drum, and he wore simple britches, Teva sandals and a necklace of shells and feathers. His long, black hair blew around his face as he stepped into the circle formed by a stand of pines. Clasping the instrument between his knees, he drummed with his fingertips, chanting quietly.

The deep tones of the drum throbbed with my own heartbeat, with the footsteps of passing hikers, even with the rhythm of a hawk circling overhead. We found flat rocks and sat, turning toward the western sun and staring over the impossibly green meadow. I shut my eyes and tried to just. . . be.

When I opened my eyes again, my granddaughters had walked a little way back down the path, and I watched them dance with carefree aimlessness between the rocks and trees and water. The 7 year old straddled a narrow brooklet and lay face down, drinking deeply from the lip of a tiny waterfall.

We had expected to visit the spring for just a few minutes. We stayed for two hours, and I don't believe we spoke the entire time. Finally we headed back across the meadow toward the campground. When we started into the trees again, my daughter turned and looked again toward the mountain.

She spoke for all of us when she whispered, "Oh, my goodness."

At the trailhead, my husband noticed a small sign that we'd overlooked at the start of our hike: "Remember when entering sacred areas to ask permission from the guardian spirits. Enter with honor and respect."

He smiled and said, "Well, that sign is hardly necessary. This place just demands respect!"

Directions
To reach Panther Meadows, take the Central Mount Shasta exit off California's Interstate 5, head east on Lake Street through town, curve left onto Everitt Memorial Highway, and drive 13 miles up the mountain. There are plenty of campsites and vault toilets, but no drinking water except for the spring itself. The campground is open from mid-June through Labor Day, depending on weather conditions.

Day hikes
Two easy day hikes are available in the immediate area, allowing intimacy with the power of Mount Shasta without involving a demanding climb. The first, just one mile in length, travels through the fragile beauty of Panther Meadows to the spring and continues half a mile beyond, ending near the tree line.

The second hike, two miles each way, crosses Panther Meadows and rises through the forest to a fork in the trail. A right turn leads to a steep but brief climb in elevation, then an easy ridge scramble to the top of Gray Butte. From this 8,119-foot vantage-point, an extensive vista opens, rivaling that of Shasta's summit, except to the north, where the immense mountain itself blocks the view. But on a clear day, all of southern Oregon and Northern California spread out in front of the hiker, with Mount Lassen often visible in the hazy distance.

Tips

1. Nearly everyone drinks the spring water, and many people bring plastic one-gallon jugs to fill at the spring and carry home.
2. Buy picnic supplies at the Berryvale Market in the town of Mount Shasta (on Chestnut just south of Lake St.). Berryvale is a gathering spot for locals and tourists alike, so allow an extra half hour to explore this New Age version of an old-fashioned country store.
3. If it's a killer milkshake you're craving on a hot afternoon, try the fresh black raspberry shake at the Black Bear Diner (on Lake, between I-5 and the railroad tracks).
4. For more information on Mount Shasta visit www.kachina.net/~alunajoy/shasta.html
5. For other links and to view photos of Panther Meadows, visit www.dlc.fi/~samu3/PantherMeadowsandMt.Shasta.html
6. For more information contact the Mount Shasta Ranger District: 204 West Alma, Mount Shasta, CA 96067 Phone: (916) 926-4511.