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May Day Weekend - Buckbarrow 12 comments A very short post from the final day of our excellent weekend. Takes a while to eat breakfast and pack down the trailer so no time for a full day walk. No problem, as the delight of this campsite is plenty of high quality short walks on the doorstep. [image] Today it was Buckbarrow, the prominent rocky summit at the back of the site. A very nice stroll over the fields leads to the base in 20 minutes and then a short but very steep climb (with the odd rest) has you on the summit rocks. [image] The views across the lower reaches of Wasdale open out as you climb (the campsite is centre right in the photo below). [image] There are plenty of rocky outcrops to tempt the scrambler. This rather greasy looking ramp looked beyond my skills but in fact turned out to be much easier than it looked. [image] [image] I picked my own route on the less dramatic outcrops. [image] Its a cracking spot to look across Wast Water at Illgill Head and the screes. [image] And across the lake to the Scafell Pike and Scafell range. [image] We had another long stop on the top to enjoy lunch followed by a very brisk walk down so we could hit the cafe in Seascale for another huge ice cream based evening meal! Who says you shouldn't finish the day with waffles and ice cream. Great end to a classic weekend packed with quality walks and good company. [image]

The Audubahn Dropping Northeast from the notch at the starting point of Autobon Saddle Couloir, The Audubahn is a steep open shot that comes down to the skier's right of a huge cliff on Mt. Audubon's East Cirque. Extra turns can be had after skiing the Audubahn on the wide open East facing bowl to the skier's left of the huge cliff. It does not reach the top of the ridge as it is blocked by cliffs that guard the ridge. Maps *All Mapped Areas are Approximations Find Nearby Zones *All Mapped Areas are Approximations tagged: Boulder County, Front Range, Mt. Audubon

Ochoco National Forest: Steins Pillar Post Author: Rebecca Post published: April 30, 2017 Post Category: Trip Reports Post Comments: 0 Comments Steins Pillar is a rocky outcropping in the Mill Creek area of Ochoco National Forest. Similar to the rock formations of Smith Rock, this is a less crowded place to see a unique rock formation. The enjoyable hike described here leads to a viewpoint of the formation at 1.3 miles, and to and up-close view if one choses to hike the full two miles. Style: In and Out day hike on trail. Distance: 4 miles round trip Elevation Gain: +/- 600 ft Trailhead and Permit Notes: The Steins Pillar trailhead is a short drive out of Prineville. Follow US26 east out of town, and on the eastern end of Ochoco Reservoir look for the well-signed Mill Creek road to the north. Drive up Mill Creek approximately 6.5 miles to forest road 500. A small brown sign on the right of the road indicating the Steins Pillar trailhead marks the turn. Follow this narrow dirt road across a small bridge and climb approximately 2 miles to the Steins Pillar trailhead. The road is closed and blocked with boulders just past the trailhead, so you can't miss it. Unlike many trailheads in Oregon, this one does not appear to need the Northwest Forest pass. According to the National forest website (linked below) this is a free trailhead. There are no facilities available. Camping Tips: The nearest established campground is Wildcat Campground at the end of Mill Creek canyon. There are also a couple of places on the National Forest road to the trailhead where one could dispersed camp.

Whiteface Slide 1 The entrance to the Slides is from the drop zone of the Summit Quad. After exiting the lift, quickly move skier's left to clear the chair. Patrol will often have orange mesh fencing set up to control access to the Slides. Be prepared with beacon in send mode, shovel and probes. Depending on the avy level established by Ski Patrol you may need this gear. [image] The Headwall/Waterfall on Slide 1 After passing through the entrance you sidestep-traverse up a narrow track that leads to the Slides. You should be in good physical shape as you will gain elevation. If you are breathing hard or feel overly exerted you may want to turn around because the descent is more demanding than the climb. After the traverse through Slide In, you come out into another world! The first slide path to your right is Slide 1. It offers 1,600 vertical feet over a half mile with an average grade of 31 degrees. Slide 1 can be the easiest or hardest route down depending on snow levels and conditions. Slide 1 skis like an open western bowl. During a marginal year the ice flow section can be very difficult or unskiable. The top is similar to an ungroomed Skyward; relatively steep and wide. Tight right often holds deep pockets of wind blown snow. Down the middle and rider's left is often thinner but contain fun rock features. The top of Slide 1 drops off abruptly into the headwall or "ice flow" section. Here the slope cascades over a series of rock shelves which are often encased in "Adirondack marble" during the colder months of the season. In the spring as temps warm, these ice flows turn to slush and experienced experts start the huckfest in earnest. Regardless of the time of the season, smart decisions are a must on the headwall. If patrol ropes off the headwall, do not ignore it. Ducking the rope can be dangerous or fatal. When roped, cut skier's left into Slide 2's middle tree zone or hug the left most edge of the headwall. If you can hold this six-foot wide path, you'll scream right down the fall line on what is usually a dependable snow surface. Some people also drop into the ice flow section on extreme skier's right. This route is dangerous. It requires some step-offs and must-make turns to avoid trees, ice and rocks. However, once safely past the headwall, a nice apron of powder on a modest slope runs all the way to "bottom of slides." In the spring or before a freeze-thaw cycle the snow is often perfect for ripping right down the headwall, hop-turning from one level to the next. The most experienced skiers send it, stomping all three drops. If you head through the waterfall make sure you control your speed as you route find your way. Slide 1 is the most avalanche prone and avy debris can make it difficult to ski. At the time of this writing, Slide 1 last avalanched in 2011. Slide 1 Slide 2 Slide 2B Slide 3 Slide 4 Slide Out

Prospectors: The Pencil By: randosteve| Posted on: December 10, 2006 | Posted in: Random Teton Posts, The Tetons | Comments Off on Prospectors: The Pencil NOTE:This TR is from December 10, 2005. When conditions are right, the Tetons can provide good coverage by mid December and I have had many fun, steep, technical descents in the 'cold smoke' powder of the last month of the year. Reeders recently pointed out a line that has attracted his eye every time he rides out to 'the vill'...we have dubbed it...The Pencil. [image] It's funny, turns out The Pencil is only, a pencil, in the early months of October and November. By the time we thought there was good enough coverage on the lower slopes to check-it-out and get a summit-to-valley descent, the pencil-like couloir had transformed into a rather wide, moderate angle slope...thought still incredibly fun...as always. We got an early start for December, skiing by 7AM, cuz it's kind of a long haul into Open Canyon from the Granite Canyon trailhead. We were rewarded with a nice sunrise and a good view of our destination, the slopes lookers' left of the Banana Couloir on the southeastern side of the mountain. After a bit of doubtful-route finding through thick forest growth, we found ourselves on-line and headed into the canyon. We soon arrived at the point where we would start to ascend the south-facing slopes and honestly...it looked grim. Thinly covered slopes that 'whumped' frequently when weighted. I turned up the volume on the I-pod and charged upward, hoping that deeper, more consolidated snow pack would be found. Sure enough, after a thousand feet or two, I found myself loving life, and just trying to find the best place to lay down the track. Often I will sacrifice the best or most efficient skinning line to keep the ski line fresh. I recommend this approach. [image] [image] [image] [image] We booted the last thousand feet and the summit rewarded us with high winds and cold December temps. We scurried down and around the north side a bit, hoping to get a glimpse of some of the northern shots down to Rimrock Lake. We had hoped to do a quick lap down to the lake before skiing the southeast side, back down into Open Canyon and racking up a nice 6000'+ day, but the winds beat us down to the core and we scurried back up to the top. A quick transition brought us to firm, cold, wind-scoured snow (surprise-surprise), but it was fun yet again. I got pelted in the face with every turn, my spray being thrown back at my by the wind. The lower 2000' was great powder skiing, with 'think-light' turns, knowing rocks lured not to far below. The track was fast on the way back to the ride and I breathed the cold air in deep as the sun set behind the mountains. Great day to be a skier!

Hotline Ramp (WI3), Rap Wall Jan 25 kyle [image] Sunset Snoqualmie Ice Rap Wall at Snoqualmie Pass might be the most climbed ice crag in Washington. I had passed the wall dozens of times, but never bothered to climb it. Rap Wall is home to Ghost Dog (M11), one of the hardest mixed routes in Washington. But it also has easier routes like Hotline. John and I decided to check it out after work one day. Rap Wall sits about 500 ft above Source Lake with an eastern aspect. There is also a wall just down and right of Rap Wall that has some easier ice routes. [image] I think this is called Millennium Wall? [image] The right side of Rap Wall. Hotline is the main line that is touching down. Bryant Buttress to the right was also formed. [image] Gazing up at the impressive Ghost Dog! We stashed our skis in the cave and hiked up to the base of Hotline. The pillar was just barely touching down, in WI5+ to WI6 condition. The ramp looked like a good option for us. I racked up and led Hotline Ramp. Despite having "ramp" in the name, the route is still dead vertical for the first 15 feet and no cake walk after. Instead of following others through a slot with a bush, I traversed left, making things more difficult for myself with tricky traversing moves and some less than stellar ice. I would have been better off just continuing straight up. It was my first ice pitch in a full month since climbing Flow Reversal just nextdoor. [image] Looking at Hotline. The route was a full 25 meters and actual ice climbing for nearly the entire way! John lowered me down and then took a try, making it most of the way up before pumping out. This was his first real pitch of steep ice ever and probably not the most beginner friendly. I took a few more laps as the sun set and we admired the fog below us and alpenglow in the skies above. I tried the Hotline Pillar. The start was slightly overhung and too thin for good feet, forcing me to do a lot of pull-ups and lockoffs, which is not my strength. I made it up, but was pumped out of my mind. It was definitely the hardest pitch of ice I have ever top roped! [image] The pillar of Ghost Dog and Snoqualmie Mountain behind. As the light faded, we pulled the rope, packed up, and skied out with our headlamps. Not bad for an afternoon at Snoqualmie! Notes: Mountain Project has the different routes labeled for Rap Wall. These climbs form rather slowly but consistently. They have been forming for two months now and have survived multiple warm rain events. A 60m rope was sufficient. The top anchor was on a tree so I did not need to bring any anchor material. Plan on about an hour to approach. The approach is about 2 miles and gains 1200 ft.

Greg Mace Peak 4.8.16 April 15, 2016April 15, 2016 Frank Konsella 1 Comment (Last Updated On: April 15, 2016) I'm going to start this trip report of Greg Mace Peak in the Elk mountains near Aspen with a story. The year was 2000, and I was on a west coast road trip, with plans of skiing peaks in the eastern Sierra before eventually hitting up Rainier. Jay Prentiss and I traveled the backroads from Crested Butte and eventually found ourselves in Bishop, CA. Bishop is a great gateway to skiing in the eastern High Sierra and after the snowy 2016 season in the area, it's probably a good destination for ski mountaineers, for the first time in years. After some local research (remember, this was pretty much before the internet went big), we headed up to a trailhead that we were told would offer a number of choices. We awoke the next morning at South Lake at the same time that the occupants of a nearby truck were also stirring. Since they also had Colorado plates and were clearly going skiing as well, we started chatting as we all made our coffee and breakfast. As it turned out, the skiers on the other side of the parking lot were skiers from the other side of the Elks- Aspen. That was the first time I met Brad Smith, who now owns the Red Onion in Aspen, and Ted Mahon, who would finish his 14er skiing project right before me. We started talking about backcountry skiing and Brad and Ted mentioned that someone had just skied a big line in the Aspen area- the line adjacent to the Landry line on Pyramid now known as Frank's Angst. As it turned out, those skiers were actually Jay and I. It was pretty cool to know that a line that I had had my eyes on for years, and took several attempts to complete, had been noticed by the local crowd. Anyway, after talking the four of us decided we might as well ski together on the nearby and highly aesthetic Hurd Peak. Two weeks later, we ran into Brad and Ted again, this time at Bunny Flats on Mount Shasta. Jay and I had just skied Shasta, while Brad and Ted were gearing up to do so. Brad and Ted finished their season with a successful ski of Denali, while Jay and I got weathered out on Rainier. Fast forward to 2016. Along with our friends Jordan White and Anton Sponar, Brad would be joining us to ski Greg Mace peak. This was the first time we would ski together since skiing Hurd Peak back in 2000. I told Brad that we should probably ski together again in another 15 years- preferably someplace really cool like the Alps, and preferably randomly. Anyway, on to Greg Mace. We made our way up Castle Creek and then found ourselves in the Alpine. Jordan: [image] We had a great view of the east face of Castle. Skiing this is as close to a "first date" as Brittany and I have. Which is awesome. [image] The West face of Taylor. This zone can be accessed from Crested Butte, and I remember looking down this line thinking it looked like a good one. [image] We gained the summit ridge of Greg Mace and were treated to an aerial show by a group of Eagles that appear to live near the summit. [image] The south face was looking good so we decided to start with it. It was perfect corn, a type of snow that seems like a rarity lately, either because of dust storms or spring storms, both of which seem common in CO these days. Brad: [image] Anton: [image] Frank: [image] [image] The corn was great, but there was still powder to ski on the north side, along with some nice aesthetic lines. Brittany: [image] [image] Jordan: [image] Brad, figure 8-ing: [image] This line was so much fun, the twists and turns of the couloir were perfectly spaced for GS-style turns: [image] [image] Anton, with Castle behind: [image] Looking back up at Greg Mace Peak, while Brittany finishes up her line: [image] One of the great things about backcountry skiing is how small of a world it is. How cool was it that a car at a random trailhead in the Sierra had a couple of skiers that lived just on the other side of the Elks? It was good to ski with Brad again, and Greg Mace served up the goods, with both perfect corn and springtime pow. Jordan and I argued about the merits of Dynafit bindings on top of Greg Mace. The correct answer is #dynajunk. Vipecs are so much better:

Albright? Allllriiiggghhht! By: randosteve| Posted on: March 31, 2008 | Posted in: Broken Link to Photo/Video, The Tetons, Wimpy's | 9 comments [image] [image]I found myself at the top of Wimpys, three out of four days last week. Some people may think it's lame to ski the same run all the time, but when it nuking winds and dumping a foot of snow a day, who can blame me for heading to slopes I'm familiar with and I know will be full of untracked powder. Kind of a smorgasborg of trips really. One day I got out with some skiers in town for the rando races, Kevin and Molly, one trip was alone and in the late afternoon. On Friday though, I was lucky to get out with Dustin Lemke after not skiing together for some time. It was great too, since on Friday there was a brief break in the weather. [image]I think only 6" were reported on the avy forecast that day, but the danger was up to considerable with high winds and snowfall totals increasing regularly for the previous few days. On the drive up to the park, some natural avalanche activity was seen in the Banana Couloir on Prospector's and the lower East Face of Buck Mountain. With the bluebird skies, we had hopes of skiing Albright (aka, Peak 10,552), not a huge peak, but a great high speed powder run non-the-less. [image] The big winter is starting to take it's toll on the park infrastructure and the Death Canyon trailhead sign is feeling the weight. The tour up to Wimpys and the on to Albright felt great...with the warm sun and all. My sensors came to attention though as we crossed under the upper face of Albright, looking for signs of instability in the snowpack, but the snow felt pretty solid. We removed our skis and booted the final pitch to the top. [image] I was glad I had broke most of the trail to the top, so there was no argument about who got to go first. The snow was as good as it gets and after a couple ski check at the top, linking high-speed powder turns was the focus for the next 3000'. Still early in the day, we did another lap up Wimpys and ran into Shoeless Greg at the top...who ripped it just like us.

Quandary Peak 14,265' [image] photo- A view of the sunrise from the east ridge of Quandary peak at sunrise. photo by Grant Lewis, 2009. [image] [image] [image] [image] [image] 2/28/09 members of trip: Zach Taylor and Grant Lewis ascent route: East Ridge descent route: East Bowls trailhead: Monte Cristo trailhead 10,900' Over a foot of snow had fallen over the last twenty four hours in Avon. The 28th was forecasted to be clear and relatively warm all day. I talked to my friend Grant about skinning up Quandary Peak and snowboarding down at work the night before. He was down and plans were made. My alarm went off at 3:00 am at my house on Wildridge above Avon. I got up quickly got in my car and drove down to Grants house in Avon. We left quickly and began the drive to the Quandary Peak trail. Quandary Peak is one of the easiest 14ers to play on in the winter. During the winter most of Colorado's 14ers summer trailheads are closed off by miles of snow covered dirt roads. During the winter most of these warrant a multi-day climb because of this extra distance. Quandary's trailhead is right off Hoosier pass and is plowed and maintained year round. So it is still only seven miles round trip and 3,365' of vertical elevation gain. This is paltry by mid winter standards. Quandary also has a route going up its east ridge that completely avoids all avalanche terrain and makes a relatively avalanche safe route year round. The east bowls just to lookers right of the ridge offer a nice summit descent. These bowls are usually comprised of wind hardened sastrugi during the winter. So while the snow conditions arn't usually great here it is often set up and safe to ride. If the snow is in a strong melt freeze cycle there are classic steep couloir descents dropping off the south and north faces of the peak as well. With recent snowfall and windloading patterns we planned on ascending the east ridge and descending the powder filled eastern bowls. We hit the trail a little before sunrise and were cresting treeline at sunrise. The going was slow as the old skin track was mostly covered with recent snow and we were stuck with breaking a trail through fresh snow all the way to the summit. It got a bit easier above treeline but there was still much postholing the entire way. We met up with another snowshoer that dropped into line and helped us break trail. photo-Zach Taylor skinning up the upper east ridge of Quandry Peak. photo by Grant Lewis, 2009. photo-A view of the upper eastern ridge and bowl of Quandry Peak. photo by Grant Lewis, 2009. photo-Zach Taylor looking out at the snow covered Rockies from the summit of Quandry peak. photo by Grant Lewis, 2009. We summited under clear, somewhat windy skies. I have climbed and ridden this peak close to ten times and this was the most powder I had ever seen on this mountain. The famous tenmile range winds usually scour pow off this mountain quickly. We geared up excited to get first tracks down the powder filled east bowl of Quandary. I did a little poking around and digging at the top of the east bowl. From everything I could tell soft, light powder sitting on a bedsurface of convoluted, satrugi. The bowl was a go. We dropped in one at a time cautiously enjoying pow turns close to safe zones on the sides of the bowl. As we were descending the bowl I noticed a line of skiers ascending up the ridge. We were the first on the summit and the first down this bowl today. Life is good! photo- A view of Grant's and my tracks dropping off the asummit of Quandry peak descending the upper east bowl. Grant is pictured in the foreground. photo by Zach Taylor, 2009. When we hit the bottom of the bowl, we hiked back up to the east ridge and dropped off the south face of Quandary from about 12,000'. With the aspect and elevation change the snow changed dramatically to corn at first and then turned into slush close to the bottom. We hit the Montezuma road that parallels the east ridge of Quandary in the bottom of the valley to the south of Quandary. We skated/hiked/rode this snow covered road back to my car at the trailhead. We got back down quite happy about the turns and the day. Quandary is always a nice peak to go out for a midwinter peak descent.

Current Creek Bench [image] The open low angle zone between the North Chutes and Current Creek Bowls. This is a safer option than the runs around it but it still has potential for a big avalanche on the wrong day. The average slope is in the high 20s or even about 30 degrees. The maximum pitch is close to the average, approximately 33 degrees. Maps *All Mapped Areas are Approximations Trailheads Berthoud Pass Parking Lot Located at the summit of Berthoud Pass Current Creek Avalanche Reports 12/08/2018 - (Current Creek Bench) 01/01/2018 - (Multiple Reports) 01/03/2016 - (Beneath Current Creek Bench) Images [image] Current Creek Bench [image] Hidden Gnoll Area Guide Books Making Turns in Colorado's Front Range Vol. 2 by Fritz Sperry Backcountry Skiing: Berthoud Pass, Colorado by Rob Writz[image] (Links to guidebooks may be affiliate links) Find Nearby Zones *All Mapped Areas are Approximations tagged: Berthoud Pass, Current Creek, Front Range, Grand County

The Grand at night Posted on September 23, 2021 | 4 Comments [image] Mission accomplished [This is part of a multi-part trip report of my Wyoming 13er speed record.] I am used to climbing the Grand in June's longer days, and have never felt the need to do any but the trail parts in the dark. However the late season and my arbitrary deadline forced me to climb the entire route in the dark. This caused me more trouble than I had expected, as I wasted some time in the boulder-field, and more in the Moraine. I passed my first headlamp folk on the switchbacks below Garnet, and some more around the Caves. The latter nearly caught me thanks to the time I wasted going too high in the Moraine, but I stayed ahead of them, and had little trouble finding the summer route to the Lower Saddle, with its bright hand-line. [image] Way too early I passed a few guided groups above the saddle, then made my usual mess of the route to the Upper Saddle. I seem to do this slightly differently every time, but I had never done it by headlamp, which further hurt my route-finding. I passed a couple enjoying the first light of dawn at the saddle, then continued up the familiar route on the upper mountain. There was some snow and ice in the chimneys and on a few ledges, but nothing that could not be easily avoided or dealt with. I had debated whether or not to bring my down jacket, and was glad I did, as it allowed me to hang out on the breezy summit for a few minutes, watching the horizon lighten and the lakes come into view below. I stopped to speak to the couple as we awkwardly climbed past each other in the double chimney. It was her first time in the Tetons, but she seemed to be handling the dark, chilly scramble easily. We exchanged names before we parted, and the guy actually recognized me, or at least my nom de plume. I passed perhaps a dozen more climbers between the upper and lower saddles, wearing the usual varied quality and quantity of gear. I had no need to hurry, merely fast-walking the switchbacks above the Meadows, but put in an effort to jog past the tourists below Garnet, and even tried to finish at a legitimate run. My much-abused body said "no" to that, but I at least managed to walk to the sign by 9:00, for a finishing time of 8 days and 23 hours. After some time to eat and reflect, I headed over to the Ranch to see who was around. There turned out to be more familiar faces than I had expected, so it was well into the afternoon before I got around to taking a shower. It was closing weekend, and I needed some time to recover, so I happily volunteered to spend a few days helping prepare the place for the winter. [image] Way too early [image] Belly crawl on the way down [image] Middle Teton dry [image] Mission accomplished

April 20, 2022 Backcountry Utah MT. TUSCARORA: SALT LAKE CITY So close yet so far away. Mt. Tuscarora is a prominent peak just to the left of Catherine's Pass if you're coming from Alta. While it's not far at all from the ski resort, this peak will make you feel more remote than you really are. [image] Distance : 7 miles Time: 3.5 hr Elevation Gain: 1,880 ft When we went: April 25 GPS for trail start: GPS Can you ski back to the car?: Yes Route-finding Difficulty: Easy Physical Exertion Difficulty: Moderate Map [image] Click Map for link to Fatmaps Getting there: Follow Little Cottonwood Canyon Rd to the very end and park at the northernmost lot at Alta Ski Resort. From here you will follow what they call the Summer Road, which Alta allows uphill travel on. This route goes under the lift and then quickly curves back to the left to continue skinning up the left side of the ski resort, following the summer trail named Catherine's Pass trail. [image] Looking out towards Alta Ski Resort The views along the way are spectacular, and being a popular route to get up into Catherine's Pass area, there will most likely already be a skin track. Follow this route up the valley for close to 3 miles until you reach Catherine's Pass. From here there are so many options, and on a good day, the fresh powder runs will seem endless. Depending on your stamina and time, you could do a lot of runs back in here, but for Mt. Tuscarora, you will turn left and continue up the ridgeline. [image] Hiking up Mt. Tuscarora Ridgeline The hike up the ridge does get steeper than the valley. We went a few hundred feet zig-zagging up and finally took our skis off and carried them on our backs to continue boot packing. We did not need crampons, although they never hurt to carry. You'll go through some trees until it opens up a bit more, as you can see in the photo above. Persevere and you'll reach the summit in no time. [image] Once you reach the summit, celebrate your victory, take off your skins, put your board together, and get ready for a fantastic ride down. [image] Victory at the top of Mt. Tuscarora We hit Mt. Tuscarora on a bluebird day after a good bit of snowfall, and the bowl down the NW side of Mt. Tuscarora was fantastic. We traversed towards Mt. Wolverine for 100-200 feet until the pitch was a little less steep and there were fewer trees. Remember on a pitch over 30 degrees to go one at a time, and always check avalanche danger before going. [image] Jay cruising down the bowl of Mt. Tuscarora Towards the bottom of the bowl, keep your speed if you can. It flattens out for a while, and you may end up having to walk a few hundred feet as a snowboarder. Once it gets steeper, you will end up skiing down the bottom runs of Alta. Please note that Alta is a skier's only mountain. There are mixed reviews on whether they will stop you as you snowboard out, but the most official word is that you cannot get on a lift as a snowboarder, but you can snowboard down. If you want to double-check, please call Alta Ski Resort for the most updated information. [image] Feeling pretty stoked on life after the run down the NW Bowl of Mt Tuscarora You should be able to board right down to the base of Alta and walk through the parking lot back to your car. GEAR: Pallas Epiphany Splitboard, Jones Solution Splitboard, Union Explorer Bindings PROS: Really beautiful scenery Easy to route-find CONS: Winds through the side of a busy ski resort Alta does not look fondly on snowboarders THE SPLIT DECISION: Jay's Take: "Really beautiful views once you get up to the pass. The hike up the ridge to the summit was fun too. I liked the open bowl down and that there were not too many trees to navigate. It was a great day with the powder. Not sure I would have been quite as stoked if we weren't in awesome powder." Tyese's Take: "I really loved this route! I don't think I would do it when Alta was still open, but after it closes for the season is the perfect time to hit up this route! The bowl off Tuscarora made me smile the whole way down"

While You Were Sleeping: Notch Couloir, Long's Peak 14,259 feet Climbing, Colorado GilJune 24, 20087 Comments For the 3rd time in 3 weeks, diet I woke up at midnight to go climb a big mountain. The motions have taken on a faint sense of familiarity, web a sort of deja vu. An empty house, roomates out at the bars, loaded backpack waiting by the door, laden with dual ice axes and my boots and gaiters sitting peacefully by its side, begging to be dawned and trodden through the snow and ice, over the high alpine rock. The tools of the trade. My food bag sits in the fridge, each of the 3500 calories ready to be burned. [image] Peanut butter and Nutella sandwiches, sesame-honey bars, yogurt covered goji berries, almonds, energy gu, snickers, payday bars (my favorite), and 2 apples mang, Fuji of course. I throw it all in my car and start driving to North Boulder where I will meet up with John and Josh at John's house at 12:45am. My windows are rolled down as I drive, the cool evening air getting cooler, waking me up from my awkward 3 hours of sleep, clearing my head. All around me are familiar faces, wide-eyed and drunk from the evening's entertainment, lovers holding hands, groups of men stumbling home, beer-stenched, unsuccessful in their hunt for a bed companion, a couch companion, someone to wake up with, something to tell their buddies about. For a split second I envy all these night-owls, such an easy persuit, empty bottles in hand, and blurry people all around, but the urge for urban wandering fades quickly as my objective moves to the forefront of my consciousness. A mass of rock and snow somewhere in the far distance, unseen for the time being, immense and prodigal under starlight, waiting for the mortals to show up for their daily assault, Don Quixotes all of them. I am one of those mortals, clad in gore-tex armor, swinging my axe at frozen dragons in the name of something not yet realized, hoping not to be forgotten, doomed to that very fate by endless time and its unforgiving ability to roll everything over. So here I write my stories, let the words unravel on a glowing screen and with the click of a button, send them on their way, riding light waves a million times around the globe in a day, riding and riding until there is no more light to ride. Will my stories die with a bang, or will they fizzle away in the vacuum of space, infinitely dispersed? Or will my stories crumble like the very rock they are conceived upon? The 3 of us raced North out of Boulder in Josh's Toyota pickup, I sat awkwardly on the hard bench seat in the back of the cab, trying to pour hot coffee from my canteen into its top which unscrews to become a little cup...brilliant I had been awake for over an hour, but my senses were now being hightened by that magical ambrosia we call coffee, lifelong friend of the mountaineer, a deeply woven thread in the history of peak scaling and ocean sailing, coaxing the sleep deprived to greatness since its bean was first introduced to hot water. This particular coffee was extra befitting of my current adventure. I had gone to see Jennifer Lowe-Anker present her new book, Forget Me Not, at Neptune Mountaineering the previous Thursday and at the end of the show, Gary Neptune asked some random trivia questions pertaining to the presentation. I was the first to shout out the answer to his last question, which was about a climb Jenny had done in Yosemite. My reward for paying attention was a bag of Summit Coffee, whose "climber series" benefits the Alex Lowe Charitable Foundation. Alex Lowe being an iconic Colorado mountaineer, who probably climbed the very route we were going to do. This particular coffee was "the Fiend blend." The package proclaims its flavor as "strong, bold & impressionable." An accurate description. [image] We reached the Longs Peak Trailhead at 2am, the moon already set behind the peaks. Hiking through the forest with a pleasant chill in the air keeping our bodies cool, jackets unneccesary, darkness, save for the small areas of light at our feet shining from our headlamps. As we broke treeline, the lights of Mordor came into view. The vast amalgamated metropoli of the Northern Front Range glowing dirty in a lattice of electrical power, sprawling ever outward from Denver to Fort Collins, Colorado Springs, accross the dessert plains, the stepped messas, like infectious tumble-weed rooting down whenever it feels the time is right, wherever the winds of opportunity may take it. The trail turned from pine tree-root laden path to semi-cleared route through the high tallus banks, following contours over glacial moraine towards the titanic cirque below Long's Peak's East Face. Hard packed snow now covered much of our trail, which ascended a final bank of rocks to the boulder packed banks of Chasm Lake, the first resting point for the waters which flow from the melting snow and ice clinging to the kinder aspects of the mountain, its North and Eastern gullies, chutes, couloirs, channels, gorges, hollows, ravines, and any other such scar in the uplifted granite which provides enough relief from the sun's direct scrutiny for winter's deposits to remain in a solid state. It is there in the watercourses, and myriad imperfect depressions in the (hopefuly) solid rock, that the mountaineer finds his way. Exploiting the mountains' weaknesses, its faults, cracks in its facade inflicted by the masters of persistence, water, wind, sun, time. [image] After 2.5 hours of hiking, we arrived on the western shore of Chasm Lake, a blood red streak of light now appeared on the eastern horizon, like some unfinished Van Goh painting left on the easal. But nature leaves nothing unfinished, and this morning was no exception. It is usually the moments before the sun crests the horizon in which the eastern canvas is at its most fiery, ablaze with colors beyond one's wildest dreams. And then the Sun bursts on to the scene, angry with us humans for looking directly at it, like some jealous diety, a flaming asterisk denoting *look with caution, gaze, but not for too long. But this morning was different. For all the shit we toss into our atmosphere, the fumes, carcinogens, oceans of smog and haze, we get in return the ever so asthetic bending of light. Maybe that is the greatest accomplishment to come from mankind's maniacal mechanisms...the ability to stare directly at the sun. For the first 15 degrees it rose above the horizon, the morning star struggled to blind us, but was thwarted by whisps of opaque polution, currents of sweet carbon monoxide, carbon dioxide, and all the other byproducts of productivity we so vehemently object to in this day and age of environmental consciousness. Well I say let it acid rain, let the killers of our children and grandchildren make the world a little bit more beautiful for us goddamit. In preparation for technical terrain, we put on our crampons and brought out our ice axes, those uber-manly tools of alpine conquest. Up the Lambslide we went, following in the footsteps of others, on the shoulders of giants like Alex Lowe and Sir Edmund Hillary, on a path to the summit of Long's Peak, while the good people of Denver slept in their warm beds, as the night owls lumbered like beer-soaked logs in the flatlands below, unaware that at that very moment, knights of the rock were crusading on the high peaks. The Lambslide is a wide and forgiving snow gully, offering an easy 700 foot snow climb and what would most likely be an epic ski or snowboard descent later in the day when the snow has softened. [image] We exited Lambslide at an obvious point in order to gain the Broadway traverse, a mixed snow, rock, and ice section about 1/4 mile long. While John and I were willing to climb this section unroped, Josh preferred that we rope up, because while none of the moves on the traverse are very hard, a slip of the snow or rock can mean a certain death fall off the edge of a 700 foot sheer cliff which would send a would-be soloist on the express elevator straight back to the base of Lambslide. I lead the Broadway traverse, placing rock pro every 40-50 feet Josh and John followed on a running belay. [image] Once I reached the base of the Notch Culoir, I burried both my axes as an anchor and belayed them up to where I sat, below the southern wall of the couloir. The culoir itself can be done completely as a snow climb, with only one or two ice sections that in current conditions are avoidable by a bypass on snow or rock. But since we were already roped together, John took the lead, placing some rock protection, one ice screw, and even managed to bury the snow picket we had brought. Halfway up the Couloir i got tired of going slow and being on the end of the rope. I untied and began going solo up the rest of the Couloir so that i could pause whenever I wanted to take pictures. In retrospect, it was a good idea to rope up for the Broadway traverse, but we should have unroped for the Couloir itself. The Notch Couloir ends in the huge notch below the south side of Long's Peak, and gaining it gives you an impressive view west over the expanse of the Rocky Mountains, while back to the East, reality lies sprawled from city to city with the great plains beyond, remaining flat and boring from the suburbs of Westminster until the backwoods of West Virginia and the soft peaks of the Appalation. [image] [image]The final section to the summit plateau involved about 150 feet of 5.4ish rock which had some wet sections. John lead this section flawlessly and with healthy runout, then belayed Josh and myself up.From there it was another 150 feet of 4th class rock and some snow patches to the summit. Summit experiences like the one we had are an apparent rarity in Colorado mountaineering. The wind was nonexistent, and despite being over 14000 feet above sea level, the temperature was warm enough to lounge in our base layers and basque in alpine glory, under skies bluer than blue, and views for 50 miles or more in every direction. The few clouds that did exist were white and puffy, remaining suspended high above some invisible cieling. I lay down on a relatively flat rock and counted the clouds like sheep, dozing off and daydreaming. [image] [image] After we had drank our fill from the chalice of summit victory, it was time to start heading down. There were beers to be downed and real food to be eaten, flocks of women waiting to congradulate us in skimpy attire with willing smiles and open arms...okay maybe not, but there is always beer and burgers. After descending 300 feet of 4th class snow and rock, we arrived at a big rock with a left sling that provided us with a good rappel past the rest of the 4th class and onto dry flat tallus. Once we unroped and stowed our harnesses, the real torture began. The park service, in their infinite wisdom and concern for the less able, has decided that several miles of switchbacks are needed to descend the roughly 450 feet of super-moderate tallus slope that skirts around the Northern base of Mt. Lady Washington. We were on our 11th hour and I was wiped. I plopped down somewhere in the high alpine meadow and took another nap while Josh and John continued the hike down. I ended up hiking alone the rest of the way, through what seemed like endless forest. Upon arriving back in Boulder, my plans for drunken celebration and debauchery were dashed by some much needed sleep. I passed out around 630 pm in my bed and awoke at 7am the next morning, refreshed, rejuvinated, and ready for the next big adventure. Gil

Needles area climbing Posted on October 29, 2012 | Leave a comment [image] Needles (l) and Olancha (r) from Dome Rock campsite The Needles are an impressive line of domes/spires along the Kern River at the southern end of the Sierra. The Needles themselves offer multi-pitch trad routes with about an hour-long approach from above (high clearance required) or below (high gnat tolerance required). Nearby Dome Rock has numerous 1-2 pitch trad routes and some hard sport face routes accessed by a road leading right to the top (it was previously used as a heli-pad), as well as a few excellent primitive campsites. Both are a reasonable drive from LA, and the weather, while currently too cold up north and too hot down south, is near-perfect there. Jen and I drove up late Thursday night and, after deciding not to try the Needles Lookout Road in a passenger car, crashed at a lousy ad-hoc campsite. We then enjoyed 3 days of near-perfect weather and interesting climbing. Both the Needles and Dome Rock are well worth visiting, and White Punks on Dope (Voodoo Dome) and the Tree Route (Dome Rock) are not to be missed. Dome Rock (Tree Route, 5.6; Left Crack, 5.8; Last Dihedral, 5.8) [image] Tree Route on Dome Rock Rather than hiking the rest of the Needles lookout road, we decided to take an easier day at nearby Dome Rock. First up was the easy but highly-rated Tree Route (5.6), which follows amazing hand- and finger-cracks past one live tree and a stump. We simul-ed it without much trouble, then hiked back down around the dome to try something harder. Left Crack (5.8) had some fun climbing, though I found the starting traverse fairly scary. The pitch climbs 10-15' off the ground, then follows a horizontal crack to reach the leftmost of two vertical ones. Though the traverse evidently protects well if you hand-traverse the horizontal crack, you first have to pass the crack's shallow, flaring start. I instead ended up foot-traversing the crack, running it out until I probably would have decked if I had fallen. The climb up the vertical crack to a 2-bolt anchor was much less stressful. After top-roping the first pitch of a nearby face route from another anchor just to the right, we finished the climb. P2 followed the crack, then followed either a zig-zag traverse or some off-width to a nice belay ledge. After a bolt and a flake that takes a tiny cam, P3 involves a tricky face traverse over to the "ear", then some strenuous off-width/lieback action to another bolt, easier slabs, and another 2-bolt anchor. The first pitch of Last Dihedral was described as a sustained, hard-to-protect lieback, so we opted to scramble up to its right, then toprope it. The description was not accurate: the face has plenty of pockets for no-hands or one-hand rests, and there are two bolts on the nearby face and adequate opportunities to place gear. The second pitch was mostly easier and unremarkable. Voodoo Dome (White Punks on Dope, III 5.8+) [image] Voodoo Dome from the Magician After availing ourselves of the better camping near Dome Rock, we made the long drive around and up the Lloyd Meadow Road to the southeast base of the Needles. While Mountain Project describes a confusing approach through a "perfect 3-dimensional lattice of cairns," we followed a single well-defined use trail to the base of the route. We climbed the route as 5 60m pitches, with only P2 being a dud. The route would be difficult to climb with a shorter rope. Jen led P1, up a wide crack next to a nicely-featured face, then across a low-angle face to an alcove. Following, I found it easier to climb the face than to jam body parts into the crack. I led P2, which started out with one exciting, blind move up the left side of the alcove on thin feet and okay hands. Pulling over the top reveals a sea of knobs, leading to easier terrain. With careful rope-routing and/or quite a bit of rope drag, a 60m rope will take you over easier terrain to a comfy belay at the base of the dihedral pitch. This 60m dihedral, the highlight of the route, can be climbed in various ways. As is her wont, Jen approached it as a hand/foot/finger crack; not feeling it for the final, runout lieback to the belay ledge, she belayed me up from a hanging belay to finish it. Being kind of a scrappy climber, I mostly chimneyed it, flying up the dihedral and thoroughly enjoying myself before finishing the pitch on lead, with one psychological micro-nut for protection. I led P4, a full 60m of sometimes-delicate slab climbing to a huge ledge, protected by 4 bolts. While none of it was truly desperate, one part after the second bolt made me think, and falling would have been uncomfortable. Talking to an old-timer the next day, I learned that the pitch used to have only two bolts - yikes! There appear to be a few paths from the big ledge to the top; Jen worked her way up a fun, straight splitter crack, then across easier terrain to a belay below the summit, near the end of our rope. We fortunately had plenty of daylight left, because the descent is non-obvious. After climbing to the summit and rapping off the back (north) side, we initially found a faint use trail down the east side of the dome. This trail faded out above steeper terrain near the base. We were fortunately not the only ones to make this mistake - a convenient bail sling got us through the difficulties. It looked possible to avoid another rappel by descending a gully farther left (east). Our rappel deposited us in the "perfect 3-dimensional lattice of cairns," which eventually led back to the main trail. The Magician (Magic Dragon, 5.8) [image] Magician (l) and Warlock (c) from Voodoo Dome The Needles lookout road was no more passable in daylight, so we hiked the last two miles of the road, passing two men in a pickup camped near the trailhead. Passing a sign informing us that the historic lookout had burned down last year, we continued along a pleasant trail along the north side of the ridge, with views of the southern High Sierra: Langley, Whitney, and (probably) the Mineral King area peaks. Following a faint, ducked use trail from the final saddle, we reached the base of the route without much trouble in about 1h30 from the car. Hearing voices as we roped up, we spotted the two men with the pickup truck, who were planning to climb the same route. P1 starts with an avoidable lieback/undercling section, then continues to a comfortable ledge. P2 crosses easy terrain including a ledge with many loose rocks, then climbs some underclings to old gear below a roof near the crux, where I established a hanging belay. Jen, after exploring terrain to the left, managed to work her way through an absurdly-steep lieback/mantle directly above the anchor, then up some easier stuff to the crest of the ridge. Fortunately she did not place any gear that would have required me to follow the lieback: after falling a couple of times, I took the standard (probably height-dependent) route around to the left, stepped over to retrieve a piece, and finished the pitch. The rest of the climbing from here to the top is mostly easy slab. We set up a couple of belays, but the whole thing would probably best be simul-climbed. One more short, steep pitch led to the summit and the remains of the lookout, including an Escheresque stairway to nowhere. While the climbing is not that interesting, Magic Dragon is still a fun, scenic route. If you choose the formerly-standard stair descent, note that the Forest Service has installed an easy 5th-class gate with barbed wire near the base. [image] East from the Magician [image] Stairway to lookout [image] Escheresque... [image] Lookout post-fire [image] Lookout pre-fire [image] Down from top of P2 [image] Crux of Magic Dragon [image] Easy cruising on upper Magic Dragon [image] Spire north of lookout trail [image] Whitney (l) through Langley (r) from lookout trail [image] Start of Magic Dragon (r) [image] White Punks P5 [image] Voodoo Dome descent [image] Near "3-dimensional lattice of cairns" [image] Magician (l) and Warlock (c) from Voodoo Dome [image] White Punks P3 [image] White Punks P4 [image] Above the "ear" on Left Crack P3 [image] Needles (l) and Olancha (r) from Dome Rock campsite [image] White Punks P1 [image] Tree Route on Dome Rock [image] Tree Route P2 - amazing! [image] Left Crack P1, after the difficulties [image] Voodoo Dome from the Magician

Saturday, September 6, 2014 The WURL* Lars and Tom had this planned for several months now and I always said I wasn't going to join. The desire to repeat the WURL after spending 26+ hours on the route with Noah last year was non existent. I was positive I'd never do it again but then they kept talking about it. Then I agreed to join for part of it. Then my work schedule came out and I had the day off. Next thing you know I'm walking up Cardiff Fork with Amanda to drop off a food cache at Pole Line Pass and was fully committed. It's funny how other's enthusiasm is contagious. The plan was to enjoy the outing and not try to push the pace too hard. Lars finished Leadville (6th, 19hours) two weeks ago and Tom just finished the Park City Point to Point a few days earlier so we figured the lingering fatigue of those big efforts would make this more of an enjoyable scenic day as opposed to a fast paced one. With this in mind I packed a big camera and we were off. [image] We've always thought the WURL might be more aesthetic if it headed up Deaf Smith and out Jacob's Ladder. That would at least straighten the ends out. I'm not sure but I do know tradition is important to me and I have nothing but respect for Jared Campbell. So we decided we would start at Ferguson and end at Bell's just as he did. Unfortunately that's not what we ended up doing. By the time we hit Lone Peak we were 20 hours into the day and the mental/physical fatigue of the group was quite high. I've been up and down the notch into Bell's half dozen times and find it to be a rather loose and dangerous place. With this in mind we decided to head out Jacob's Ladder. It's didn't feel great deviating from tradition but I think that for our party, that day, it was the right call. I don't know. Is it even the WURL if you don't exit Bell's? Hard to say but I think we found the little bit of great scenery, adventure, and suffering that we were hoping the WURL would provide. *** Special thanks to Amanda for refueling us at Hidden Peak. I've never had a Deep Dish Little Caesar's pizza that tasted so good. Thanks Ryan for the Ensure and Red Bull at the top of Red Pine. And THANKS Andy for taking our phone call from the top of Lone at midnight and then driving to the Jacob's Ladder trailhead at 3AM to give us a ride back home. I'm not sure why you guys were all so willing to help but it made our day MUCH better!!! Here are far too many pictures. [image] Early morning in Ferguson [image] Above Stairs [image] Between Storm Mountain and SLC Twins [image] [image] [image] [image] Summit of SLC Twins [image] Heading towards Jepson's Folly, Sunrise and Dromedary [image] More of the same [image] Sunrise (O'Sullavan) Peak [image] Heading up Drom [image] Between Drom and Monte Cristo [image] Lars and Tom heading up Monte Cristo [image] The small bit of easy travel between Superior and Point Supreme [image] Lars [image] Devil's Castle [image] Tom mid Devil's Castle [image] My girl and the feast she provided [image] Lars on the AF Twins [image] Tom on Red Baldy [image] White Baldy [image] Box Elder and Timp [image] The boys on the Pfeiff just before sunset [image] Lars on South Thunder Posted by Jason at 12:47 PM

Packrafting the Middle Fork Snoqualmie River By egilbert@alum.mit.edu | November 14, 2016 - 5:53 am | November 14, 2016 Uncategorized Eric and Katie November 12, 2016 We drove up to North Bend, dropped off bikes at a bridge, then drove up to Tanner. After the last rain ended we put in our packrafts and paddled down some fun rapids back to the bikes, then biked back to the car. [image] [image] [image] [image] [image] [image] [image] [image] [image] [image] [image] [image] [image] [image]

Backpacking to Yosemite's North Dome National Parks Backpacking California Jun 25 Written By Emily Schrick Everyone has heard of Half Dome in Yosemite. It's amazing and beautiful and the star of the show in Yosemite Valley. But there's another dome, one that is a full dome, hanging out adjacent to Half Dome: North Dome. This rock feature looks unreachable from the valley floor, but it's actually a relatively easy hike - as long as Tioga Road is open for the season. Keep reading to learn more about how to backpack to some of the best views in Yosemite! Note: Included in this blog post are links to the Outdoor Status permit notification website. These are affiliate links, and I will earn a small commission at no extra cost to you if you choose to participate in permit availability notifications. Thank you so much if you do use this service! [image] Trail Info + Stats Where: Yosemite National Park Miles: 9 miles Elevation Gain/ Loss: 2,000 ft Time to Complete: 2 days Trail Type: Out-and-back Permits Required: YES Pets Allowed: NO Trailhead: Porcupine Creek View fullsize [image] Route Map via GaiaGPS [image] Route Stats Itinerary & Trip PlanningRoute Description There are actually numerous ways to get to North Dome, which I will touch on. But the easiest and most direct way is a 4.5-mile hike from Tioga Road. The trail begins in a moderately wooded forest right from the road. You'll immediately start downhill on a path of mixed concrete and dirt. Early in the season, there are plenty of blown-down trees that you may have to circumnavigate and climb over. Less than a mile in, you'll cross Porcupine Creek. This seasonal creek is an easy rock-hop in low water years and later in the season. Earlier in the season, you'll have to balance-beam walk across downed trees to cross without getting your feet wet. The creek crossing itself did not seem dangerous and is definitely fordable, but it looked to be about calf-high in early June. There was also a small creek before and after the main crossing. Note that these creeks are pure snowmelt, and they will dry out by mid-summer if it was a low snow year. [image] The tree balance beam. [image] A jumble of downed trees across the trail. [image] Late spring is the perfect time to see Snowplants emerging from the ground! After the creek crossings, the trail climbs a little bit to a large intersection with numerous other trails. Some of the signs were partially obscured by a large downed tree when I was hiking, but know that 4 different trails meet up here. You'll want to follow signs to North Dome. The trail going back north is to Snow Creek and the trail to the southwest goes towards Yosemite Falls/ Yosemite Point. You could take this trail down and traverse along another trail to North Dome, which takes you by Lehamite and Royal Arch creek - good to note if you need more water than you originally thought. You will miss the spur trail to Indian Arch though. [image] From the 4-way intersection, you're about 2.5 miles from North Dome. [image] These beautiful patterns were actually deadly for this tree - from the Bark Beetle. [image] Yosemite is pretty well known for cool-looking rocks. After this junction, the trail lightly climbs and descends through some more woods until the junction to Indian Ridge at a large, sandy gap. Here, you have the option to take the spur trail up to the only natural arch in the park! Be careful with stowing your packs though - the crows and squirrels in this area are relentless. We came back with our empty snack wrappers strewn around our packs. If you choose to leave your packs behind, I'd pull your bear canisters out of your packs and leave them, and make sure all snacks and empty wrappers are out of your backpack pockets. Otherwise, haul your packs up to the arch. The climb is pretty steep but definitely worth it! You might choose to do this on your return hike - whichever suits your plans better. But don't leave it out! [image] [image] [image] After the arch, continue walking on a flat, wide ridge. You'll have views of Half Dome by this point, peeking out from behind the trees. Any spot along here is a great place to stop and have lunch with views of Half Dome. The views and spots are especially good right before the trail makes a steeper downhill plunge back into the woods. Enjoy the views, and hopefully good weather! [image] Illiouette Falls tucked away in a canyon. [image] [image] Clouds Rest in the distance. From the nice wide ridge, follow a few cairns down the side of the sloping granite - there is a pretty distinct tree growing right out of the rock for you to orient yourself. The trail hugs the granite slopes as the trail descends through forest and brush, before popping out at an exposed granite ridge with stunning views. Keep following this ridge south. The path is pretty obvious, but once the trail descends again, there are some areas where the trail doesn't seem as clear. There is another trail sign at the intersection of this trail and the one that comes from Royal Arch creek, so you should be on the lookout for it. At this intersection, the trail turns east and continues to descend. This time, a little steeply along a granite wall and then back into some woods. Once you reach the woods, you're almost there! [image] The junction with the trail to Royal Arch Creek & Yosemite Falls. [image] Some steep granite on the way down to the base of North Dome. [image] Looking at the ridge we descended, from North Dome. There are two main camp areas at the base of the descent in the clearing past the woods - one to your left and one to your right. The camp area to the left really only has room for one tent in a flat spot - I was able to bit a 3-person comfortably here, but a 4-person could be a bit of a stretch. The campsite here has jaw-dropping views of Half Dome. The campsite on the right side of the trail has a lot more room for multiple tents and is ideal for larger groups. You can still see Half Dome from here, but not really from your tent door. Since camping is not allowed on North Dome itself, you'll want to choose one of these spots to be closest to the dome. From here, it is only another quarter of a mile to the top of the dome, so the dome makes for a great sunrise or sunset spot, and the hike is pretty mild to the top. This is an out-and-back hike, so you'll retrace your footsteps on the way back to the trailhead and Tioga Road. [image] Other Routes As I mentioned above, there are a few other ways to get to North Dome. The other common way to reach North Dome, especially when Tioga Road is closed, is via the Snow Creek Trail from the valley floor. This is a much longer and more intense hike, gaining about 4,000 ft of elevation. If you're attempting this hike from the valley because Tioga Road is closed, you need to be prepared for winter conditions above the valley. [image] In the trees at the base of North Dome. Camping is to the right and left. [image] Permits Yosemite wilderness permits can be obtained at recreation.gov. There is a weekly lottery for trips by trailhead 24 weeks before the date you wish to enter. In 2022, Yosemite also operated their first-come, first-served permits on recreation.gov, releasing them 1 week in advance of the entry date. They also release permits that are not claimed on the day of wilderness entry in person at wilderness centers, but it is almost guaranteed that there will not be any available for popular trailheads this way. The entry and exit trailheads for this hike are Porcupine Creek. [iframe] Seasonality & Weather The hike as described is only accessible in the summer when Tioga Road is open. Tioga Road usually opens sometime in June, but it is very dependent on the snow year. The road closes to overnight parking on October 15th. Click here to view the historical opening and closing dates for Tioga Road. You can access North Dome via the Snow Creek Trail when Tioga Road is closed, however, this will usually mean the hike is in winter conditions and you should be prepared with winter gear like snowshoes, depending on the conditions. This trail is mixed terrain, but a lot of it is very exposed. Be aware of lightning dangers, especially when on North Dome itself. Lightning storms can occur during the summer months in the Sierra, usually in the form of quickly-passing storms. Be very aware of the weather forecast. Beginning as early as mid-summer, this trail could be entirely dry as far as water availability goes. Be sure to ask the rangers or look for up-to-date trip reports before going on your hike. There was a small, unmarked stream between the 4-way trail junction and the Indian Rock when I went in early June, but it shouldn't be relied upon as a water source. There is a possibility you will need to carry all of your water in on this trail, so be prepared for that! You may want to consider cold-soaking or eating no-cook food for this trip, or just make sure you've got plenty of water! I carried in 4 L myself since I wasn't sure of the water situation. That was enough for two days and one night for me. [image] [image] Trailhead & Parking The Porcupine Creek trailhead has a relatively large parking area, but is also super popular for day hikers, so it fills up fast. There is parallel parking off the side of the road opposite the trailhead that is legal to park on overnight if the lot is full. There is a pit toilet at the trailhead, but no water or other amenities. [image] [image] Lodging Options The Porcupine Creek campground is close by, and if it is open, can be a great place to stay before or after your trip. Due to weather and staffing issues, this campsite has not been open in years, so I wouldn't rely on it for now. Click here to learn more about the campground. Otherwise, having a wilderness permit enables your party to stay at a backpacker's campground the night before your wilderness permit starts and the night it ends. The backpacker's campgrounds have been changing in recent years. Use this website for the most up-to-date information. The closest backpacker's camp is White Wolf. The fees are now $8 per person as of 2022, and you must have exact change. [image] [image] A Dr. Seuss lodgepole grows out of the granite! [image] [image] North Dome looks so different from behind than from the valley floor. Pussypaws was speckled all over the base of North Dome.

Whiteface Slide 3 Getting to Slide 3 is a fun ride along the slide traverse. As you pass Slide 2B notice that the traverse narrows and can be quite a bucking bronco. Ride alert! Getting thrown will cost you some serious energy. Slide 3 starts below an intimidating rock slab in a very steep zone. As you leave the slide traverse you're immediately confronted with a challenge. You can fumble about the entrance or cowboy up and stomp some concise turns to clear two fir filled pinch points. [image] The Last Pinch before Slide 3 Opens Up Moving from skiers left to right you want to carve a solid right turn around the first clump of fir and into a very narrow gap in the tree line. An aggressive jump turn left will then clear a blind section and put you directly in the fall line. You're going to accelerate but have faith because you'll have enough room to stomp turns and dump speed before approaching the first of three rock shelves. Don't blow up here or you can easily yard sale. Whatever you do, be aware that experienced skiers and riders will be coming in "hot" so don't clog up this narrow zone for any longer than necessary. The chokes atop Slide 3 are much cleaner since the heavy rains of 2011, but still require a very tight move to drop into the main chute. Once clear, the slide remains narrow for a couple hundred feet and you must negotiate three rock shelves. With enough snow these are easy drops. Sideslipping is also an option. After these ledges, the slide expands to the width of Essex but it is much steeper. Here you can let them run Bode style! Right after a storm, chest-deep pow is not out of the realm of possibility. Two classic exit routes exist on Slide 3. Skier's left brings you over a series of rock slabs which link together like a staircase leading to bottom of slides. In the spring, as the snow starts to melt, these slab grow in size, which makes skiing and riding this line more technical. If you stay a bit skier's right, a steep chute flushes you into the bottom of 2B. Here you can string together tree islands, bumps and jumps before plowing into bottom of slides.

Mount Whitney [image] Mount Whitney. What else can be said? In case you fell asleep in your geography class, it is the highest mountain in the lower 48 states at 14,497'. It is located in California's Inyo National Forest west of the town of Lone Pine. One of the most popular routes is a 22 mile, 6100' elevation gain/loss round-trip from Whitney Portal. Join our group as we attempt a "Death-March" to the summit! Trail Map [image]After summiting Yosemite's Half Dome a few years ago, I decided I needed to set my sights on another goal. Mount Whitney it was. So in January of 2002 I gathered a list of four other friends and sent in our permit application on February 1, 2002. Mount Whitney is the only location that I am aware of that requires a permit for day hikes. I waited and waited for notification, finally giving up hope. Then my wife called me at work to say the permit reservation came in the mail that day. We were set! [image]Out of the original five in the "Mount Whitney Death-March Group" two of us remained, me and Tom. The others had canceled for various reasons. We were joined by another two friends of mine, Peter and Jim. They were traveling with their own permit...it's a long (and costly) story. Tom and his wife Jean graciously prepared a spaghetti dinner that evening for us, complete with garlic bread and salad. Nothing like a little carbo-loading before the trip! Thanks again guys! [image]After a year of planning, training and anticipation the day was finally here. We awoke early in the morning of August 7, 2002 to start our journey. Before leaving I gathered the group for a photo. It was dark and I had hoped I got the camera focused. I guess I didn't. We were on the trail by 4:20 AM. Hope to be back before dark. [image]Tom had hiked to Lone Pine Lake a few days before, so we let him lead the way. The trail was easy to follow by the light of our headlamps. Sunrise was a welcome change though, now we could see the views. [image]This log bridge provides easy passage over Lone Pine Creek. Rocks provide passage over other crossings. [image]The early morning light on Thor Peak is hard to miss. I can only imagine what sunrise on Mt. Whitney would be like! [image]After roughly 2-½ miles of climbing, this flat section above Lone Pine Lake is a welcome, but brief relief. [image]The Whitney Zone begins past Lone Pine Lake just before the climb to Outpost Camp. From here you must have a permit or face a fine and be turned back. [image]As the sun rises over the valley, so does the smoke from fires in the nearby Sequoia National Forest. Luckily the air isn't filled with smoke, but it does make for some interesting photos. [image]We arrive at Outpost Camp about three hours after departing. This is one of two campgrounds on the way to the summit. [image]Another stream crossing, complete with a small waterfall. There is no lack of water on the first 6 miles of the Whitney Trail. [image]We stop at the shore of Mirror Lake to snack, take pictures and to reflect on our journey so far. [image]After our brief stop at Mirror Lake we are on our way once again. The next goal is Trail Camp, roughly half way to the summit. [image]The trail becomes difficult at times, especially nearing 12,000'. So far everyone is doing well though. [image]We are nearing Trail Camp now. I turned around to survey our progress so far and see Tom making his way along the ridge. He is in the left-middle section of the photo. The smoke rising from the valley is rather eerie looking. [image]We stopped at Trail Camp to have lunch and to fill our water bottles as it is the last reliable water source on the trail. I've used approximately 64 ounces so far. After taking a much needed rest we were ready to tackle the famous switchbacks. I've heard there were 97 or 99. All I know is there's a lot of them. [image]Part-way up the switchbacks and we reach the cables. This was one section of trail that I had previously been concerned about. Since there was no snow and ice, I had little to worry about, so onward we went. [image]In life we sometimes need to look behind us in order to appreciate were we are now. On the trail is no different. The lake at trail Camp on the left and Consultation Lake on the right can be seen with ease on the switchbacks. [image]On the trail as in life though, you can't make progress by looking behind you all the time. We push on to Trail Crest, 13,600'. [image]Jim and I make it to Trail Crest first and a few minutes later Peter shows up. We haven't seen Tom since the start of the switchbacks. The three of us push on toward the summit and figure Tom will get there at his own pace. [image]Once at Trail Crest the weather gets much colder. We stop long enough to show the Park Ranger our permits, put jackets on and take some more pictures. This is looking west towards Mount Hitchcock and Hitchcock Lakes. [image]Appropriately-named Guitar Lake is also visible as we walk along the trail. [image]From Trail Crest it's another 1.9 miles to the summit. Should be there in no time now! [image]This is looking through one of several windows along the trail, my other concern. The east side of the trail has several small jagged peaks or needles. The base of these peaks form a "V" or window allowing you a very dramatic view some thousand feet below. What makes the windows trying for some is that the trail is somewhat narrow, the west side of the trail is somewhat exposed and you have breaks (windows) in the "secure" east wall offering a one-way ticket down the mountain. Add a stiff breeze and I suppose it could be a little trying. Truth is, the trail is at least 6-8 feet wide, exposure isn't that bad and it's only a 10-15 foot section that you have to deal with. [image]Now past the windows and you can just make out the summit hut. So far so good. Peter says he has a headache, but you couldn't tell by how he is hiking. I don't have a headache but I am feeling tired, stopping every 50 feet or so to rest. [image]Hiking past Keeler Needle and some of the windows. The summit is just above us now! [image]We finally made it! It's hard to believe after all of the planning, training, anticipation and worry we are finally here! [image]It's a long way down there... [image]This is the summit hut. As inviting as it may be it is not safe to stay in when a lightning storm approaches. The man in the picture was waiting for his 80 year-old father to join him at the top. He finally made it as we were leaving. What an accomplishment! [image]From up here you can see the smoke from the fires at Sequoia National Forest. It did obscure some of the view, but not too bad. [image]The impressive face of Keeler Needle. [image]The three of us made the summit in 10 hours. We later found out Tom made it past Trail Crest before turning around due to altitude sickness. [image]After taking a few more pictures it was time to head back down. It would take us until 9:30 that evening to get back...17 hours total. It was a long day, but very rewarding. As I sit here a few days after the hike, I think I'm suffering from low altitude sickness...I must go back up there! Until next time...

Mt. Solitude Skier's Point, Climber's Point, Solitude & Vista Date: 7/12/2020 Partner: Kristi Henes Trailhead: Pitkin TH Summits: Skier's PT, Climber's PT, Mt. Solitude, Vista Peak Distance: 13m Elevation Gain: 5300ft Difficlutly: Class 2+ (with some easy 3 if you want it) Duration: 8.5hrsGPXMount Solitude 14ers.com PageClimber's Point 14ers.com Page From the TH we cruised in 3.6 miles before leaving the trail and crossing the creek. We chose to climb on loose rock beside a steep creek instead of the thick bushwhack up the first pitch. After that, the hike up the basin was enjoyable with grassy sections and stable talus. Although it is not a 13er, we summitted Skier's Point first. How do you not summit a peak named Skier's Point! From Skier's we traversed the ridge north to Climber's Point, then Mt. Solitude, then Vista Peak. The ridge goes at 2+ unless you want some easy class 3 scrambling (which we did). From Vista we descended south and found a grassy gully that took us to the lower basin. This was a great route with interesting terrain and amazing views. Go get it! [image] 13m - 5300ft - 8.5hrs [image] East Partner lights up above the waterfall. We hiked 3.6 miles on the trail before turning off and crossing the creek. [image] We chose the steep and loose climb on the right side of this creek instead of a thick bushwhack [image] Alex in the basin below Skier's & Climber's Point [image] We hiked soft grass and stable talus to Skier's Point [image] Kristi in the basin. Outpost, East Partner and West Partner behind [image] Kristi hiking up Skier's Point west ridge [image] [image] Kristi summits Skier's Point [image] Skiers Point on Skier's Point [image] Grays and Torreys.... the Forks are in! [image] Heading toward Climber's Point [image] Kristi on Climber's Point with Skier's Point behind [image] There is scrambling if you want it! [image] [image] Climbers Point on Climber's Point [image] Holy Cross [image] Heading to Solitude (the one with all of the snow) [image] This guy startled us [image] [image] Admiring Solitude [image] Scrambling off of Climber's Point [image] Ascending Solitude with Climber's Point behind [image] Kristi on Solitude's summit. East Thorn way off in the distance [image] Descending Solitude and heading to Vista [image] Vista's impressive south face [image] Alex on the Solitude - Vista saddle [image] Looking East to Keller Mountain and... Boulder Lake? [image] Alex on the final approach to Vista [image] Looking back across our ridge run... Skier's Point, Climber's Point and Solitude [image] East Partner (front & center) - West Partner to it's left [image] Peak X & Peak Z from Vista [image] After descending from Vista, we hiked south on talus until we found a grassy gully to descend. Don't settle for anything worse than this. [image] An amazing family of 8 bighorns [image] We thought they were friends... [image] Until they started knocking microwaves down on Kristi. If you look closely you can see them laughing above. [image] Let'er rip! [image] Glissading fun and incoming weather. We caught a few sprinkles but nothing more [image] Snow is fun [image] We chose the bushwhack route at the bottom of the basin [image] This creeky section was steep and slick [image] Cruisin back to the truck through aspens and wildflowers

Backcountry Skiing Crested Butte TR: Ruby Chute (7 May 2011) May 17, 2011 Frank Konsella 0 Comments (Last Updated On: May 17, 2011) Ruby Peak, specifically the east facing Ruby chute, has been on my wish list for a few years now. [image] Tired after a day on Pyramid followed by a day on Sopris, a nice short line like this seemed like a perfect option. We left from Kebler Pass on our sleds around 7:30. Warm temperatures were getting the better of the snowpack and we were concerned about hitting this east facing line too late. So, we used the sleds to our advantage to come within just a few hundred feet of the summit, with the intention of skinning up later to retrieve them. Frank making his way to the northern ridge off of Ruby. [image] In about 20 minutes, we reached the summit. [image] Owen always looks so impressive. [image] Pyramid, where we'd been just a couple of days before. [image] South Maroon, where our friends Matt and Jordan were that day. [image] I like being on big peaks. The high alpine is my home 🙂 [image] With the sun continuing to beat down on us, we transitioned quickly from climbing to skiing. We made our way down the east ridge toward the chute. Frank. [image] [image] The upper part of the chute was wetter than we wanted, but we knew if we skied it quickly, we'd be fine. Frank. [image] [image] [image] [image] [image] Me. [image] [image] [image] The crux of the Ruby Chute is a small ice fall. This ice fall can be just a few feet to several feet in length. Sometimes, it's possible to ski right over it. Other times a downclimb, or even a rappel, is neccessary. Me pausing, just above the ice fall, trying to determine it's status. [image] With this year's deep snowpack and the day's warming temps, the ice fall was not so gnarly. I was able to glide over it. Although, not so gracefully. Frank did much better 😉 [image] [image] [image] And then we made our way out the apron, full of fantastic corn. [image] [image] We retrieved our sleds as the snow continued to get sloppier and made our way back to the Kebbler Pass trailhead. Truck to truck was about 3 hours. Not a bad way to spend a morning and not a bad line to check off my list 😉 On our way out, I snapped this picture of a buried bathroom by Lake Irwin. Still feet of snow up there. We'll be skiing for several more weeks here in Crested Butte 🙂 [image] [image] About Latest Posts [image] Frank Konsella

Mount Whitney - The Mountaineer's Route Revisiting John Muir's Classic High Sierra Climb [image] Andy Lewicky | SierraDescents.com Mount Whitney, California - The Mountaineer's Route was my introduction to Sierra climbing, and it scared the hell out of me. I'd done a bit of scrambling here and there in my travels, but nothing that qualified as official rock climbing. by Andy Lewicky | SierraDescents.com Still, when a group of friends secured a permit to climb Mount Whitney and invited me to join the party, I said yes without hesitation. Rising 14,505 feet above sea level, Mount Whitney is the highest point in the contiguous United States-making the peak easily one of the most coveted summits in North America. Most hikers test their stamina on the heavily-traveled Mount Whitney Trail. But our group had a different objective in mind: the Mountaineer's Route, a challenging climb up Whitney's east couloir first climbed by John Muir in 1873. [image] [image] [image] [image] Our guidebook assured us the Mountaineer's Route was no more than a Class 3 climb, which sounded easy enough. And, after battling gullies clogged with willows, merciless talus and scree, heavy packs, and altitude, we at last gained the 'Notch' atop Whitney's east couloir, elevation 14,000'+, expecting an easy traverse to Whitney's summit. Instead, we found bare ice blocking our path. We talked about turning back, then made a dicey, unroped scramble up exposed rock along the left side of Whitney's North Face. The experience was harrowing: one slip meant an uncontrolled slide down the icy chute toward a waiting 300-foot high cliff. When we finally gained the summit, it was with a sense of relief rather than triumph-and we still had to make our way back down. That day made a lasting impression. I learned the Mountaineer's Route is big, spectacular, and, under the wrong conditions, absolutely treacherous. Hearing reports this year that Mount Whitney was essentially snow-free following our dry winter, I decided to return to the Mountaineer's Route. It had been a while since I'd climbed Whitney, and I was eager to return. After all, height is but one of many excellent reasons to climb California's highest peak. From the lowly deserts of Owens Valley to the Sierra's lofty summit, climbing Mount Whitney is a diverse journey through an unforgettable, constantly-changing landscape. To follow in John Muir's footsteps as you work your way up the Mountaineer's Route is to truly appreciate the magnitude of Muir's 1873 accomplishment. And for my own benefit, I was particularly interested in revisiting Mount Whitney's North Face. I wanted to return to the Notch under better conditions to rewrite the terrifying memory I had of it. Without snow and ice, I doubted that section of the route would once again scare the daylights out of me. But then again, you never know. Whitney Portal [image] Whitney Portal from the Mount Whitney Trail Towering some ten thousand vertical feet over Owens Valley, the eastern escarpment of the Sierra Nevada range surges upward with jarring abruptness. Blame California's restless geology. Not-so-ancient fault action pushed up this section of the Earth's crust, giving the state a two hundred mile long granite spine. The dry, dusty basin of Owens Valley could not form a more perfect contrast with the High Sierra's alpine forests and austere rock. From the tiny but charming town of Lone Pine, California, elevation 3000 feet, is it but a quick 11 mile drive up the Whitney Portal Road to Whitney Portal. [image] [image] [image] [image] Once you reach the Portal, you'll immediately notice the cooler-and thinner-air. You'll also notice an abundance of signs warning you not to store food in your car. Food lockers are conveniently provided at the parking lots and campgrounds to safely store your food and other scented items (lotions, etc.). The Whitney Portal bears are getting awfully crafty, however. Hikers may find it best to empty their cars, as bears may judge anything visible inside as potential food until proven otherwise. In any case, do not leave food anywhere in your car, even the trunk. Once you've secured your perishables and gear, take time to wander around the area. The Whitney Portal Store lies at the end of the road. The store is a fine place to grab last-minute forgotten supplies, get current trail information, and even enjoy a tasty meal. Nearby is a quiet fishing pond and the chilly waters of Lone Pine Creek. In summer, Whitney Portal is likely to be crowded, and the surrounding campgrounds booked for months in advance. Hikers and climbers in various states of readiness sort through piles of gear, some purposefully, others with a notable look of confusion. Mount Whitney attracts all types, from hardened mountaineers to the most clueless neophytes. Depending on your outlook, this can make your own hiking experience either a rotten stroll through a three-ring circus, or an amusing look at the diversity and enthusiasm of your fellow human beings. Whatever attitude you choose to adopt, you'll see it all on the Whitney Trail-for better and for worse. My favorite photo of MWT silliness shows a hiker carrying his tent up the mountain-still in the original box. Less amusing, of course, are images of woefully under-equipped hikers marching upward, oblivious to the danger. We could linger for hours about the Portal and take in the sights. But for us today, Whitney Portal is but a way station. It's time to pack up the gear and hit the trail. The Mount Whitney Trail [image] I heft my pack and stroll from the overflow parking lot to the trailhead. After my usual post-ski season break, it's good to be hiking again. I'm thinking about the route ahead, previous attempts, successes, challenges. Will I be able to find the Ebersbacher Ledges, I wonder? How will the altitude affect me if I camp at Iceberg Lake? What will the North Chute look like? Will I make the summit? [image] [image] [image] [image] At the trailhead I find a battery of signs and notices, stern warnings of the rigors ahead. Also present is a scale enabling hikers to weigh their backpacks. That's a temptation I can't resist. Minus my usual winter climbing hardware, I've packed somewhat extravagantly for my Whitney hike: a Themarest pad, a down pillow, a coffee mug, extra food, extra clothing, five pounds of camera gear. How much does it all weigh? The answer is a surprisingly-low 32 pounds. Only 32 pounds? Clearly, summer hiking has its advantages. Through the wooden gateway I go, and at last I'm hiking up the trail, off to whatever awaits me. A cheerful squirrel sees me off, which I take to be a good omen (note: if a squirrel actually speaks to you, this is a very bad omen indeed-requiring an immediate descent to lower elevations). The Mountaineer's Route follows the Mount Whitney Trail for the first mile or so, which begins with a long switch-backing section up the north side of the Lone Pine Creek drainage. Here the trail is broad, easy, and well-traveled. Hikers quickly gain altitude, and fine views of Whitney Portal abound. The terrain is alternately dry and lush. The Eastern Sierra borders the desert of Owens Valley, and rainfall is scarce most of the year. Consequently the forests have evolved to cope with meager precipitation. Small creeks and springs are common, however, and where these occur sprout bright green glades. All greenery vanishes at higher elevations, of course, which become austere Alpine environments dominated by gray Sierra granite. Mountains such as Whitney sometimes strike me as instruments of time travel. As I am hiking today, I find my thoughts going back to earlier attempts to hike this mountain, past visits with friends and family, solo ventures (some spectacularly misguided) as well. I am not alone in finding the Whitney zone irresistible. Many hikers choose to return regularly to Whitney, as if using the peak to mark off milestones in their lives. One such hiker was Hulda Crooks, who ascended Mount Whitney on every birthday from 66 to 91. In 1995, Day Needle, a 14,000' peaklet beside Whitney, was renamed 'Crooks Peak' in her honor. But perhaps we should not daydream for too long: the first of the Mountaineer's Route challenges is fast approaching-finding the start. The North Fork [image] The North Fork of Lone Pine Creek leaves the Mount Whitney Trail and instead veers west, folling a steep, narrow canyon. Here, the Mountaineer's Route proper begins. While the majority of Whitney Hikers will stay on the trail and cross the creek, Mountaineer's Route climbers will instead begin following a use trail up the north side of the canyon. As you quickly gain altitude in this dense and claustrophobic canyon, it is worth considering the miseries it must have caused John Muir on his first ascent. [image] [image] [image] [image] Originally, climbers took myriad paths through the willows. Repeated creek-crossings were the rule, as was getting stuck in spirit-sapping dead-ends and backtracking. In the process, all that tromping around caused a good deal of damage to the fragile environment. Thankfully, a consensus route is emerging, helped along by the Forest Service, which has begun reconstruction efforts in damaged areas. This, alas, will become a theme for the duration of the Mountaineer's Route: on the one hand, there is a strong argument for maintaining the Route in its original, trailless-state (and thus preserving its high adventure). On the other, this remains a high-use area, and without a trail, people scramble across it indiscriminately, inevitably eroding and degrading the landscape. Matters are complicated by the canyon's sides-smooth granite slabs that funnel traffic toward the willow-clogged creek. The gist of the route today consists of a brief hike up the north side of the creek, staying in a small pine stand to avoid the brush. Soon, however, the route plunges into the brush, crossing the creek, and then leading high up the south side of the canyon. Following years of heavy snowfall, these creek crossings can become serious matters, and hikers have drowned in such circumstances. This year, however, the creeks are low, thanks to an abnormally poor winter (which will be of particular benefit on the route higher up). Now on the south side of the canyon, I am treated to fine views of Whitney Portal and the town of Lone Pine far, far below. From here, I can also see the Ebersbacher Ledges, on the opposite side of the creek. The Ledges have become a clever and infamous part of the Mountaineer's Route, allowing hikers to bypass the worst of the willows-at the cost of a section of exposed travel. If you miss the entryway to the Ledges, it is possible to continue upward, battling your way through the merciless willows. Faced with their formidable barricade, however, many unlucky climbers have simply abandoned the effort entirely and turned back. Ebersbacher Ledges [image] Finding the correct path to gain the Ebersbacher Ledges is a topic of much concern among newcomers to the Mountaineer's Route. In years past, it was indeed challenging to choose the right path. Now, however, even those with modest route-finding abilities will likely find it easy enough to stay on the emerging use trail, which traverses back and forth across the creek and ends exactly at the short scramble needed to gain the Ledges' start. [image] [image] [image] [image] I cross the creek, passing a hidden waterfall, and make my way to the lone Lodge pole pine marking the start of the climb. The sun has turned this east-facing canyon into a solar oven. I'm eager to get higher, hoping for a breeze to cool the air. An 'easy' Class 3 scramble leads to the start of the Ledges, which then traverse east a hundred yards or so before switchbacking to the west. Hikers with no climbing experience whatsoever may find the first scramble to the base of the pine tree alarming. If so, they certainly won't be happy with what comes next: the traverse is undeniably exposed, with a scattering of loose gravel that compromises traction. For most of the route, climbers can hug the side of the canyon and feel relatively secure, notwithstanding the cliff immediately below. Be advised, however: one short section of the Ledges narrows to perhaps only 12 inches or so. Unfortunately, this part also happens to be the most exposed. The standard means of assessing climbing route difficulty struggles to accurately describe a challenge like this. In terms of difficulty, the section is trivial, Class 1 or 2, no harder than walking along a street curb. But exposure-the prospect of a fatal fall if one slips-changes the equation. I would prefer to see exposed routes assigned a mandatory Class 4 rating regardless of difficulty level. In my mind, this would better advise climbers of the challenge of traversing atop a 100-foot cliff, regardless of how 'hard' the move actually is. For now, the system remains as it is, and we have no universally agreed-upon way to describe such climbs. Some climbers will find the Ebersbacher Ledges trivial and wonder what all the fuss is about. Others will find them terrifying. In any case, I'm happy to be across the tricky part safely, then on my way back to the west, traversing through the small patch of forest and then hiking up the final third of the canyon, on my way to the first of the Mountaineer Route's pit stops: Lower Boy Scout Lake. Lower Boy Scout Lake [image] After the claustrophobic confines of the north fork drainage, it is a relief to at last reach the open vista of Lower Boy Scout Lake, where Mount Whitney's summit and the two Needles make a brief appearance. I take the opportunity to pump some water and snack on a handful of pretzels. If it seems like it's taken a while to get here, it has! Lower Boy Scout lake sits at 10,300', fully two thousand vertical feet above Whitney Portal and the trailhead. [image] [image] [image] [image] That makes the lake an excellent place to stop, re-hydrate, and air out the feet-which is exactly what I do. I find nice grassy spot and settle down for a little break. Lower Boy Scout Lake is considered the first potential camp site along the Mountaineer's Route. At 10,300', it has the advantage of being at a relatively modest elevation, offering warmer weather and less chance of getting sick at night. But, the area is buggy in summer, and a long way from the summit, so most people choose to camp higher, either at Upper Boy Scout Lake, or Iceberg Lake. When I pack up and step across the stone path to the opposite side of the lake, I notice a few trout swimming in the shadows. One of the many pleasures of the Mountaineer's Route is its remarkable variety. The way is broken up into clearly defined sections that bear little resemblance to each other. This contrast in scenery keeps the route interesting, even in the face of the tremendous vertical distances to be gained. You're always finding something new to look at. If you're expecting easier going now that we're up above the willows, however, you'll be disappointed. From Lower Boy Scout Lake, a faint use trail quickly leads us to a broad and bare field of talus. For those of you who are new to talus' pleasures, I won't spoil the fun with too much discussion of it. I will note, however, that for the remainder of the Mountaineer's Route, loose talus and scree will be near-constant companions. As for routefinding, hikers and climbers can search for cairns to follow through the talus, in hopes of finding easier passage-or you may simply strike off on your own. After about 500 vertical feet of scrambling (that is, after you've had about enough), the route crosses the creek once again, gaining a network of smooth granite slabs. Here, again, winter snowmelt can be a problem. The slabs lie directly in the creek's path, and in flood seasons, may well be in the creek. Today, however, the slabs are largely bare granite, perfect for avoiding the talus and willows on either side. That eliminates one concern, but I am a little nervous about getting lost in this section. There is no trail, and there are several critical creek crossings to make to avoid getting trapped in willows, or dead-ended on an impassible slab. Luckily, I stay on-route without having to do any backtracking. Thanks to the hard smooth granite, I make quick time up this section of the climb, and I know Upper Boy Scout Lake can't be far. The Moraines [image] Hikers heading down, Lone Pine Peak in background Hikers may choose from three potential camping sites during their Mountaineer's Route climb. As mentioned, Lower Boy Scout Lake is the first-and lowest. Most people prefer to get farther up the mountain for their summit bids, thus they continue on to the second camping area, Upper Boy Scout Lake. Here, the scenery is perhaps not so stirring, but the weather (usually) remains reasonable, and the area is within striking distance of Whitney's 14,497' summit. More importantly, at 11,300 feet in elevation Upper Boy Scout Lake lies within a much safer window insofar as altitude is concerned. [image] [image] Sea level residents must concern themselves with this issue of altitude and acclimatization-especially regarding where they choose to sleep. The highest camping area short of the summit itself is Iceberg Lake, fifteen hundred vertical feet above. At this elevation, some degree of altitude sickness is not a possibility for unacclimatized hikers-it is a certainty. I strongly recommended camping no higher than Upper Boy Scout unless you are an experienced high altitude mountaineer. Camping lower will increase your chances of making it up the mountain successfully, and getting back down safely. Today, I am of course ignoring my own advice and continuing upward to Iceberg Lake. This is partially under the guise of research: I want to expose myself to a night at altitude and see how my body reacts. We'll revisit that experiment shortly. Meanwhile, the day remains hot, even at my present elevation. I am sweating heavily and wishing for a breeze. The landscape has taken on an otherworldly cast, as if I've somehow suddenly climbed up to the moon. These are Mount Whitney's moraines-remnants of glacial action. The route winds through immense piles of debris, carved out and pushed about by long-departed glaciers. The going is slow here: a long, tedious traverse across loose ground and steep rubble. But it is a thrill as Mount Whitney's glorious East Face comes into view for the first time. And I hear shouting now-On Belay! Off Belay!-plus other emotionally-charged climbing terms I'm unfamiliar with. Yes, these distant calls are coming from that great expanse of vertical granite ahead. Someone is up there, somewhere, and from the sound of it, they're having a bear of a time. I zoom in on the East Face, trying to locate the climbers. At last, I find two tiny dots working their way up a crack toward the center of the East Face route. As I draw closer, I spot more climbers, these on Whitney's East Buttress route. And more shouting leads me to think someone is also attempting the formidable Harding Route on Keeler Needle, though I can't seem to spot them. I continue up toward Iceberg Lake, now only a short scramble away. Iceberg Lake [image] No doubt about it-arriving at Iceberg Lake is a major milestone. Since leaving Whitney Portal, I've climbed over four thousand vertical feet. The air is thin and noticeably cooler. I drop my pack and guzzle water and Gatorade. Almost immediately, I notice a nasty headache developing. Nausea is not far behind. With a struggle, I motivate myself to get my tent up. Then I flop inside, taking deep breaths. [image] [image] [image] [image] What's happening to me? Instead of frolicking about the shore with my camera, I'm fighting not to throw up. I'd been expecting the altitude would make for a difficult night-but to be stricken so soon after getting here, in the daytime, is alarming. Has altitude sickness put an early end to my Whitney adventure? If so, I'll be making a desperate down-climb in the near future to get lower as quickly as possible. There is another possibility: maybe I'm suffering from dehydration and heat exhaustion. I've been sweating heavily all day. My body is low on salt. Add the sudden elevation gain to this, and it's easy to understand my condition. I take ibuprofen, fix a pot of extra-salty ramen noodles, drink water, and wait. It takes discipline to put food into my queasy stomach-and keep it down-but the reward comes quickly. My head clears and my nausea eases. I wander outside my tent, relieved and more than a little spooked. It's a good reminder that we must always be vigilant in the backcountry ('we' meaning me). Trouble can come at any time, from any direction. Usually, it's what we least expect that creates the most havoc. Feeling better now, I spend some time scouting Whitney's East Buttress, choosing the line I'll take tomorrow up the East Couloir. Several choices are available. The simplest way up is to stay in the main body of the couloir, following it steadily to the notch high above. There is often snow in the couloir, which can be ascended quite efficiently if you've got an ice axe and crampons. This year, however, the couloir is essentially snowless. Consequently the center of the main couloir is mostly comprised of exceptionally loose talus and scree. Under these conditions, many climbers choose to briefly follow the start of the East Buttress Route to the left of the couloir, hoping to stay on favorable rock before traversing back into the East Couloir. To my eye, this option looks steep and possibly exposed. I've never tried it-and I've no desire to do any class 4 free soloing tomorrow. Still, I'm not enthusiastic about trying to scramble up the center of the couloir. I decide to climb to the base of the East Buttress in the morning. If I like the look of the variation, I'll keep going. If not, I'll traverse into the main couloir. All that assumes, of course, that I'll make it through the night with no new surprises. Climbing The East Couloir [image] The East Face at Dawn Morning. Through the wall of my tent I watch as the sky begins to lighten. I rustle about in my sleeping bag, eager to get started. Dawn breaks slowly over the Inyo Mountains. To the east, the silhouette of Lone Pine Peak stands in sharp relief. This may well be my favorite moment in a hike: the start of a perfect day for summiting. All the external obstacles have been surmounted. Now it is just the mountain and me, no more distractions. [image] [image] [image] [image] As Whitney's East Face begins to glow spectacular, vivid reds and pinks, I pack my gear. At 5:30 a.m. I leave camp. I feel strong. I've slept well, with no recurrence of yesterday's unpleasantness. I have hiked extensively both as an acclimated mountain goat and as a gaspy Sea Level Dweller (which I am now). Most people will never know the joys of climbing while fully acclimatized. Like me today, they will need to find effective strategies to cope with the altitude. For my part, I try to keep my respiration up and my heart rate down. That won't protect you from all of altitude's potential effects, but it will keep your blood oxygenated. After perhaps fifteen minutes of easy climbing, I catch up to a group of guided climbers who've chosen to rope up for the Mountaineer's Route. I stop, drink some water, eat more pretzels, and take a photo of the group as they pass a short crux section. Like me, they've decided to ascend the lower part of the East Buttress, then traverse into the East Couloir. I wait until they're clear of the tricky part, then follow them into the main couloir, leaving the East Buttress-proper to future dreams. By keeping to the left side of the couloir, I am able to stay on mostly firm ground. Any venture toward the center of the couloir, however, instantly kicks off small landslides. Now high above Iceberg Lake, I stop again to contemplate the view. I am struck by the magnificence of this route. John Muir must have thought he was climbing up into the heavens when he first ascended this mighty couloir. Giant striations in the couloir's walls angle diagonally, inspiring feelings of whirling vertigo. The sky at this early hour is impossibly blue against the hot white of Whitney's granite. The landscape beneath me stretches clear down to the town of Lone Pine in one grand sweep-a distance of some two vertical miles. To reach Whitney's summit there is only one last challenge ahead, of course: the north face. The North Chute [image] No portion of the Mountaineer's Route generates more discussion and anxiety amongst first-time climbers than Mount Whitney's north face-and deservedly so. Any month of the year, the north face can be covered with snow and treacherous ice, making an ice axe and crampons mandatory. Faced with such conditions, the unprepared are best advised to turn back at the Notch. I have done so myself in the past and not regretted it. [image] [image] The temperature drops and the view shifts abruptly as I top the East Couloir. Hikers may find the sudden sense of exposure at the Notch overwhelming. We are essentially perched atop a 300-foot high cliff, giving the sensation that one slip will send the unlucky climber all the way down to Arctic Lake, two thousand vertical feet below. That assessment may not be entirely inaccurate: climbers have slid to their deaths here. Today, thanks to the near-record dry winter, there is less snow on the north face than I've ever seen. Nonetheless, Whitney's north face lies in shadow, and the north chute looks icy through the middle, with dry rock elsewhere. Climbers may choose to either head directly up the north chute, or else attempt to traverse across the north face toward (hopefully) easier terrain. Given the multiple threats of cliffs, steep terrain, and ice and snow, one might expect guidebook authors would call particular attention to this section of the Mountaineer's Route. With few exceptions, however, that is not the case. The traverse is sometimes referred to as 'easy'. And climbing up the north chute often receives little more than an ambiguous Class 3 rating. This is perhaps a consequence of mountaineering literature's long-standing tradition of understating danger and underrating difficulty. Back to the climb: in order to better contrast the difficulty of the two route variations, I plan to ascend the north chute and return via the traverse. So, up the North Chute I go. Compared to my last Whitney visit, my climbing skills are sharper, and my tolerance for exposure significantly greater. I find it easy enough to work around the ice, and the climbing is enjoyable-though it certainly is climbing in one or two spots rather than just mere scrambling. A key advantage of ascending the north chute is the directness of the route. In no time at all, I'm nearing the summit plateau. Meanwhile, the group of roped climbers below are making their way up the North Chute below me. They zig-zag around the icy patch, traversing back across the chute to its now-sunny western edge. I stay in the shadows beneath the eastern arete, though the climbing looks easier where they are. Either way, it is obvious that all of us will be summiting Whitney today. Whitney's Summit [image] There is one last tricky section to contend with before I gain Whitney's broad summit plateau, and then, just like that, the climbing is over and there is nowhere higher to go. I am the first hiker of the day to reach the summit via the Mountaineer's Route, but others traveling along the Mount Whitney Trail are already here. Some simply stare silently into the distance. Others talk excitedly, complain loudly about the altitude, their legs, their packs. [image] [image] [image] [image] Mount Whitney's summit is marked both by a USGS sign and also a stone shelter built in 1909 for high altitude research by the Smithsonian Institute. As hikers and climbers sign the summit register, I meander over to the eastern edge of the summit plateau to take a cautious peek at the frightful void below. We are right now standing atop the highest point not only in the state of California, but also the entire lower 48. In all directions, everything else is lower-including the many high Sierra summits to the north and south. And yes, I can feel it. There is inarguably an extra thrill to be had standing here on the highest peak of them all. To the south are the inspiring Needles, Mount Muir beyond, and, farther still, Mount Langley, from whose 14,027' summit I skied a year ago. To the west are the Kaweahs, a striking, brightly-colored range of rock normally well-hidden within the Sierra's center. Looking northward, I see first Mount Russell, and then the vast bulk of Mount Williamson, fourteeners both. Beyond them are the Palisades, distant on the horizon. From the tip of my toes, the spine of Whitney's East Buttress rolls off to infinity, leading to Iceberg Lake, which shimmers green-blue, two thousand feet below. I can just barely make out the yellow dot of my tent off the lake's south shore. It's easy to follow yesterday's route: through the moraines below Whitney's eastern cirque, past Upper Boy Scout Lake, the slabs, Lower Boy Scout Lake, the North Fork Canyon, then Whitney Portal. Beyond that lies Owens Valley and Lone Pine. I'll revisit all each of these landmarks on my way home today. It will be a long day indeed. But first, I take a lunch break on a nice sunny rock away from the wind. My thoughts go back to my first Whitney climb, now years past, and I'm time traveling once again. The mountain seems the same, but I've certainly changed: older, wiser-hopefully. I think again of Hulda Crooks. Her unusual means of celebrating birthdays is starting to make sense to me now. With each visit to Whitney's summit, I find the experience more, not less inspiring. I resolve not to let so many years pass again before I return. And with that last thought, I know it is now time to make my way home. Heading Down [image] The summit, as they say, is only halfway there-a mantra designed to remind climbers they must not only get up the mountain but also back down safely before the job is truly over. Though most of the day's challenges appear behind me now, there are still a few areas to downclimb, plus the exposed section of the Ebersbacher Ledges to navigate. And, of course, I must make my way down, down, down, six thousand vertical feet or so. As promised, I try the traverse rather than downclimbing the north chute. [image] [image] [image] [image] The traverse across the north face proves tedious: steep, loose talus that makes for poor footing. Is it really a better option (without snow) for hikers concerned with the north chute's climbing? Perhaps, but my guess is such hikers won't be much pleased with either option. Down the East Couloir I go. The terrain is steep, demanding constant attention, making this a surprisingly tiring endeavor. The temperature hikes dramatically here on the mountain's east side. When I reach Iceberg Lake, the sky seems even bluer, if that's possible. A few white clouds sprout from Whitney's summit, but the desert air to the east is much too dry to allow anything to develop, and soon enough the clouds have melted away. I take my time packing up camp. This time I make sure I eat enough before resuming travel. The walk down is a long one, sure to leave my muscles well sore tomorrow. Eleven pages up and one page down... Hikers should not underestimate the effort involved in climbing down. While it take less physical energy, obviously, it takes far more mental energy, a constant concentration on where to place the feet. And the relentless pounding only adds to the burden, slowly but steadily degrading body and mind alike. Climbers with the extra time to do so may enjoy camping an extra night farther down, perhaps at either Upper or Lower Boy Scout Lake, to divide the long down-climb between two days. The air thickens noticeably once I've passed Upper Boy Scout Lake, though my feet are starting to protest. Compared to the barren landscape above, the sudden rush of greenery below is a visual treat. As I finally near the end of this magnificent journey, emotions surge through me. People climb Mount Whitney for many reasons. Some come not knowing whether or not they can climb Mount Whitney, and I must confess I admire them for it. Climbing Whitney, like any mountain, can be a personal test, a challenge to the limits we (or others) place upon ourselves. Some, alas, will leave Mount Whitney unchanged, as if they'd never visited. Others may find within themselves something new, something unexpected. Tempered with experience and judgment, such strength can carry you not only up mountains, but also across the many, more vexing obstacles which lie strewn across the world below. I do not claim to know why I climb mountains, though I seem to catch a glimpse of it now and then, in these fleeting moments. I find I can't imagine not climbing-and that is enough, I know, to ensure my return.

October 21, 2010August 8, 2016 Big Foot Trail The pick-up truck bounces awkwardly as we maneuver down the rocky, snow-covered jeep road. It's a Wednesday afternoon and after two straight days of clinics learning about skis and boots, where reps spoke of thermo-lined-this, carbon-reinforced-that and how their product is unquestionably better than the competitors...well, I need an escape into something a bit more organic. I ask Elaine if she is up for an adventure, and of course she is. We've got a couple hours to burn until darkness, and there is a dashed line I've been eying on the map since I first saw it back in July, something I had to check out before it got socked in for winter. The mangled road of dirt continues on past deep mud ponds, through Aspens whose leaves have all now dropped to the ground and large patches of glorious white snow. We follow a set of tire tracks, most likely left by hunters. It's a little risky hiking in this area this time of year, as it's neither Wilderness, nor protected, meaning it's fair game for the men with guns. Fortunately Elaine has worn an orange shirt, so unless the hunter is drunk, blind or both, we should be OK. We get to the trailhead and immediately find that there isn't one. More like a large wooden fence to hop and a stream to ford before an ancient track, barely indented into the sage and frosted-over grass appears. A crude, hand-painted sign gives it away: "Motor Vehicles Prohibited Beyond This Point - U.S. Forest Service." This is our path. [image] The trails slices through a valley surrounded by low hills, rock pinnacles and endless forest. I give a yelp and my sound reverberates through the land, piercing, haunting. This land has that haunted feeling of tragedy. It's inexplicable unless you have spent a lot of time in the woods - certain places have that feel. Perhaps an unsuccessful mining operation happened here, maybe somebody got lost and died, or maybe it's deeper than that...a history of episodes that happened throughout time...animal hardships, dating back to the ice ages, to early man, to a wilder time. [image] The trail begins to slant upward and we emerge into the forest. Our breathing increases with the hills steepness...this trail has no switchbacks. And the forest...the smells, the strongest, most pleasant pine odor I have experienced in years. Mixed with the cold air, our steaming breathe, the moist dirt and the patches of snow...the pine accentuates and delights, filling the nostrils and energizing the soul. Up, up, up we go through the forest, past little creeks, naked aspen groves and thick needled trees. [image] We're following two tracks, massive tracks, that of two humans with feet in the teens-realm size. We joke that we're following bigfoot, and of course the conversation turns to the question of if bigfoot is real. You can't help but be in the woods and wonder about such things, and it brings a quivver and a leap to the stomach to think that maybe, just maybe, there are creatures living in the hills who have escaped the microscope of the scientist, the cataloging of the professional biologist, the sighting of the common man or woman. It seems impossible in this day and age, but I want to believe, so I do. We emerge into a large, slanted valley and I can't help but analyze it for backcountry skiing worthiness. When you are a skier and an explorer that's what you do in the fall...poke around for new lines, new delights in the forest. The trail has all but disappeared now, taken back by the land. We pick our way through thinned tree groves and more meadows, always up, towards timberline and the hulking, rounded and snow-covered mountain in front of us. [image]A few more steps and we are up there, on the tundra, the timberline mark into a world of wind, exposure and thin air. We've been climbing for an hour plus and the light grows dimmer, more orange. There is a lot more to do...we've only come a bit above timberline and there is a whole mountain to ascend, but not on this day. An adventure left for another day, perhaps this winter but more likely next spring or summer when the snows melt and the land turns back into sea of wildflowers - columbines, paintbrush, forget-me-nots - but that is a long way away, a winter away, and for this I am glad. [image] It's time to turn around, back home to the truck. This is not an epic excursion into the wilds, a soul-searching hike of the entire Appalachian Trail or a journey into the depths of the Himalayas. Nope, this is more like Walden...a walk into the woods followed by a foray back into our small town to grab some milk and cookie dough. A balance between the wild and the civilized. Elaine and I talk often about adventures to cross that realm into the more wild, and I have no doubts that someday we will, but not now. [image]We pick our way down the mountain, our trusty dog Stella at our side. She explores smells here and there, dropping to the creek for a sip of icy water and looping back around again. The dog is that link between the civilized and the wild, the wolf lured to the fire, but not totally transformed yet. It smells, it hears, and you realize that there is a whole world of wild that humans have lost, sucked out of us by generations of an easier, more cerebral life. [image] As is always the case on a hike, the descent allows for thinking, for conversation. For a couple, these are wonderful moments. We talk about various things and just enjoy each others company in this quiet place. The moon rises to the east, nearly full, though I know not whether it is waxing or waning...too many hours spent indoors in the tech room. The sky turns orange on the horizon, the woods grow thicker. It's time to head home. [image] As we reach the bottom, near the little creek, we spot something black 100 yards away. Elaine, in wonder, asks if that is a black bear, and then quickly corrects herself..."no, it's a moose." She is correct. A buck, big antlers and all, grazing on the fall grass. Stella comes closer to us and is peering the opposite direction, which is a dead give-away. Just fifty yards away, a mother moose and two babies. It's a privilege and a treasure to see this, but moose are not chipmunks. Stories of moose charging people abound, so we quickly head away from the scene so as not to disturb them. Stella is one smart dog - she sticks right by our side. She is no Buck, and this is not "Call of the Wild." We amble on, filled with wonder of the world, invigorated by the smells and feelings of the woods, the mountains. Elaine breathes out, steam in the cold air, and smiles. A final foray into a land lying in wait before the snows blanket it for seven months. We hop back into the pick-up truck, dive into a loaf of fresh baked bread in the front seat and bounce down the road, headlights piercing the cold, late-fall night.

Centennial Sunday - California's West Ridge David Yarian January 28, 2015 September 14, 2018 16 Comments on Centennial Sunday - California's West Ridge [image] The day's effort, courtesy of Google Earth. (Zambo) Peak: California Peak - 13,849' Distance: 9.2 Miles Vert: 4,900 Feet Climbers: Dillon & Zambo Centennial Sunday - California's West Ridge I get excited every time I visit the San Luis Valley. How could you not? It is a 122 mile long, 74 mile wide, vast high desert plain surrounded by mountains. And not just any mountains. To the west, the Sangres rise up like nowhere else in Colorado. Going from 8,000 to 14,000 feet in a matter of 2-3 of miles just never gets old. On every trip I am stunned by the relief off of the valley floor. The fact that most of the high peaks are as rugged as they come only adds to the appeal. But of course, you have a bunch of other cool stuff here as well: an interesting history, some (IMHO, completely random) sand dunes, countless isolated drainages, and a number of peaks which can rival anything in lower 48 in terms of sheer bad-assery. Oh...and let's not forget the aliens either. I'm still waiting for my first sighting. So, when Dillon threw out the option of hitting California Peak for a winter centennial Sunday, I was all in for heading down south. Like all Sangre trips, an early wake up had us cresting La Veta Pass around 6:30, anxious to traverse around the Blanca Group and get our first look at California Peak. [image] Crestones, sand dunes, and the morning sun. (Dillon) [image] A herd of 100+ elk greeted us on our way to the Zapata Falls trailhead. (Zambo) Like so many outings in Colorado, we owe our route inspiration to Mr. & Mrs. G. Roach. Their 13ers book continues to be chock full of useful ideas, albeit a bit lacking in updated beta. I guess that's what you should expect from a 14 year old guidebook. We can only hope that new edition will be updated, not cost $50+ dollars, and actually get published....sometime. But griping aside, the ideas and descriptions in that thing are still spot on. Hence, our choice to do the west ridge. The west ridge route of California starts at the Zapata Falls trailhead. Although we found it deserted, the road is plowed and makes for a great winter outing without the added slog of hiking miles of San Luis Valley approach roads. From the Zapata Falls Campground, an easy warm up takes you past the falls (an interesting frozen detour) and eventually has you meandering up into California gulch along the Zapata Creek Trail. The route leaves the trail around 10,600' to gain California's long, angular west ridge leading up to tree line. From there, generally low angle and gentle slopes lead to this centennial 13er summit. Between the great access, the defined trail, and the relatively safe route, this is about as good as it gets for winter 13ering. We were further encouraged as we could see the upper basin from the TH. Patchy snow mixed in the rocks showed a typical Sangre winter scene: bare. We were happy to see that above tree line we would have an avy-free path all the way to the top. Barren slopes below tree line were representative of what we saw in the whole range; they don't call these the 'dry-gres' for nothing. An 8:00 start time had us on the relaxed trail which wound its way up along South Zapata Creek. Much to our delight, the trail had seen some recent foot traffic. The great trench was not even necessary most of the time, as the snow was very thin. We were able to cruise the 2.3 miles up to the first junction without ever needing to don the clown shoes. [image] Winter trenches mean happy Dillons. (Zambo) [image] The 'typically-Sangre' mix of sage brush and desert bushes eventually gave way to aspens as we rose higher. Pines filled in higher still. (Zambo) [image] The first real break in the trees is a fun moment on any Sangre hike. The contrast of elevation gained down to the valley below is always stunning. Our approach road is seen far, far below. (Zambo) [image] Unnamed 13,660 A, a bi-centennial, looms above, as it would for most of the day. (Zambo) [image] Catching glimpses of our prize for the day, with the snow shoes happily stored away. (Zambo) [image] Ellingwood Point comes into view. (Zambo) A short distance past the California Gulch Creek, the trail crests on a small hill before heading down again as it travels south. This high point is the spot to leave the trail and begin the bushwhack up along the ridge. The tracks we had been following continued right where we needed them to go. So, after a short breakfast, we happily obliged to keep following the trench through the tress. The snow continued to be pretty much exactly what you would expect from this area: 6-18 inches of unconsolidated sugar, with varying degrees of support. But all in all there was nothing to complain about, as the trench and the overall lack of snow continued to make for easy passage. We were even on bare dirt and rock for good sections of the day, enjoying the rapidly warming temperatures. Around 11,500 we reached a small junction. The route proper travels straight up the ridge here and into a final stand of thick trees before tree line. However, the tracks we had been following continued north of the ridge into California Gulch to avoid the very steep gain along the ridge. Sensing the slog that awaited us in the trees, we opted to follow the tracks in the gulch to make for easier passage. We continued this for a quarter mile or so up the drainage until we found a completely bare scree slope allowing passage to the ridge above. The slog up this slope was about as frustrating as any unconsolidated boulder field can be, but we eventually reached the high point of the ridge again, right at tree line and 12,300 feet. From there, we could see the long, but gentle west slopes to the summit. [image] Views west across the valley. (Zambo) [image] As we gained elevation, Twin Peaks - 13,580' - came into full view. (Zambo) [image] Dillon, happy to be done with the scree slope and the subsequent 200 yards of wallowing through the final stand of trees. (Zambo) [image] We dubbed this gnarly old dead guy the 'Zapata Tree' - a great place to finally ditch the snowshoes. (Dillon) From tree line, the remainder of the route simply follows the slopes west upwards. But as with many Sangre days, this mile long ridge was deceivingly far away. While completely bare and safe, it still gains 600 vertical feet in the span of .3 miles at one point, getting the lungs pumped. It makes you earn it. [image] The final few thousand feet. The true summit hides behind this rolling lump until the very end, making for a series of ever-rising false summits. (Zambo) [image] Looking farther beyond, yet another unnamed Sangre 13ers comes into focus - UN 13,420. (Zambo) [image] Crestone Group to the North. (Zambo) [image] Dillon along the wind-swept ridge. (Zambo) [image] My turn to work it. (Dillon) Right at 13,000 feet the slopes mellow out to an almost completely flat plane, several acres square beneath the final pitch to the top. This was a welcomed relief after the steep ridge leading to this point. Beyond the open ground, the final 800 feet or so rises above in a consistent convex curve. It is one of those slopes that you look up and think, "I just know this thing is going to frustrate all hopes of finding the true summit until the bitter end." But I suppose experience is useful here. The only thing to do with a slog like that is to put the head down, grind it out, and not think about the real summit until you have no more up to go. It helped that the sun was out, the winds were low, and the temps were down right balmy. [image] Moonrise over California's West Slopes. (Zambo) [image] Yes, another Crestones pic. I'll never get sick of looking at those peaks. #sorrynotsorry (Zambo) [image] One of only two post-holing spots of the day: a relatively flat, wind loaded plain at 13,000 feet made for soft passage before the steeper rocks beyond. (Dillon) [image] Blanca, Ellingwood, and Little Bear come into view. (Zambo) [image] Dillon along the final pitch. (Zambo) [image] Almost there, buddy. (Zambo) [image] The man, the myth, the Jersey legend. (Zambo) This summit, well, what can I say? It was incredible. To the east, the full stretch of the San Luis Valley is rolled out like an endless carpet. To the north, the sand dunes and Crestones are as uniquely beautiful as anything in Colorado. And to the west & south, the Blanca Group stands in all it's unbridled glory. Blanca, Little Bear, Ellingwood, Lindsey...it is no wonder the Native Americans believed this place to be holy. And so it remains. [image] The mighty Blanca group. (Dillon) [image] Lindsey, Huerfanito, and The Iron Nipple. (Dillon) [image] For those who enjoy steep, dangerous, border-line suicidal winter Sangre ski routes, it looks like the red couloir is in...brah. (Zambo) [image] Spanish Peaks. (Zambo) [image] Pine, desert, dunes, alpine. (Zambo) [image] A successful Centennial Sunday! (Dillon) As it usually does, the wind decided to swirl around the top of this peak. Warm temps dropped quickly as the biting winter gusts displayed their nasty ability to find every exposed piece of skin or wrinkled gear. No matter though, we only needed a few minutes to enjoy the top. We looked at the register and decided we were the second people up here since October. Ironically enough, the tracks we had followed joined with us again for the final 50 feet or so to the top. It seems someone had been here the day before, opting for the valley approach as opposed to staying on the ridge. If this was you, thanks for the trench. Hit me up with a PM and let me know how your day was. As for us, the way down was as uneventful as you hope a descent will be. Aside from a super-charged Dillon (thanks to some ibuprofen) and an absolutely jaw-dropping display of colors in the sunset sky, we were able to make it back to the cars without incident and just before dark. All told, we were just over 9 hours on the day. All that remained was a feast at the Silver Sage Steak House in Fort Garland. "Yes, we do both want a burger AND a full side of wings." [image] Time to go home. (Dillon) [image] A final beta look at the day's journey. (Zambo) [image] A blood red sky: few better examples of a picture just not doing it justice. (Dillon)

Baggin' in Boulder (Diagonal on Slab, Keel, center of North Devil's Wing) Posted on October 14, 2010 | 1 Comment [image] North from the top of the Slab The Doctor is, once again, in. Boulder is possibly worse than Aspen as a place to go dirtbag. The county parks are extremely camping-unfriendly, as is the city itself, and the closest legal camping, in the national forest west of town, is a long drive away from the Flatiron trailheads. It seems possible to sleep in the pullouts along the roads behind town if you get there late and leave early, but it's not exactly peaceful, and you risk being pestered. At least gas isn't overpriced. The flatirons, however, are a great place to solo, with many long routes in the 4th-5.6 range, most having reasonably short approaches. Even though it's winter in the mountains, it is still fall down in the foothills. I wasn't sure what to expect of the climbing: I hadn't been on rock in awhile, and soloing slab can be nerve-wracking when balancing on small nubs above a long, slow, cheese-grater death. While I knew that "class 3" in Colorado means you probably won't have to use your hands, I didn't know how their 5.x routes compare to those elsewhere. So I started with some mellow routes in the 5.0-5.3 range, all close together near the southern end of the flatirons. The Slab is an impressive wall, both tall and broad, with a rippling, varied surface that lets you choose your level of difficulty. Trying to make it easier, though, may require careful route-finding. After a leisurely 20-30 minute approach along a well-maintained trail, I started up at what seemed like a reasonable place based on the wall itself and the trampled ferns. I was shaky at first, being rusty and on unfamiliar rock, but I soon got into the groove and became familiar with the two kinds of rock (slicker red and more featureful gray). The route is impossible to describe - I just wandered back and forth up the face, avoiding the bulges and looking for cracks and more featureful areas. A more direct approach would have been a challenge, but with some meandering and minor backtracking, I managed to keep it mellow. Water pockets supplied enough positive holds that I was rarely gripping nubs with my fingers, and there were even some ledges as wide as my foot. I finished by stemming up a crack, then boosting to the left to reach the summit ridge, a broad plateau covered with potholes. From there it was a long, mostly-easy scramble south to the summit, with plenty of opportunities to escape off the back. This is not always the case: it can be surprising here to reach the top of a long, mellow slab, only to find a 20-foot overhang on its uphill side. I scrambled a short pitch to the summit, then sat and ate my fish, watching a flock of hawks or falcons playing in the updrafts. A couple flew no more than 20 feet directly overhead, but I wasn't fast enough with the camera to get a picture. Since the guide said to descend to the south, and the Keel, my next objective, was in that direction, I bumbled down a steep, wooded gully, eventually finding a use trail at the bottom. After wasting much time going back and forth looking for the base of the Keel in the thick woods, I picked my way past some poison ivy and bumbled onto it from behind about 40 feet up. The Keel was disappointing, rarely requiring more than 0 or 1 hands, and usually offering an easy escape into the woods to the north. Tragically, the summit was overhanging to the north and west, but it was easy to backtrack a bit and dismount to the south. The north Devil's Wing was only 5th class if you made it so. While it looked entirely possible to follow the fat, tree-filled cracks to the top, I tried to spice things up a bit and stay on the slabs. The hardest part was probably the walk-off, with a choice of horrible downed-tree bush-whacking or wet-lichen-covered talus. Either way, I ended up using my hands almost as much on the way down as on the way up. [image] Looking down the first part of the Slab [image] North from the top of the Slab [image] Top of the Slab, with potholes. [image] Keel and north Devil's Wing from Slab summit [image] Looking south, to pinnacles and haze. [image] North Devil's Wing [image] Nasty woods-whacking [image] Varied fall foliage [image] Interesting seeds

WA & OR -- Columbia River Gorge, 2-12 June 2017 [image] [image] 10 days in the Columbia River Gorge... Why we came... To see pretty waterfalls and maybe do some fishing. The Campground... Timberlake Campground and RV Park was great! The narrow winding road to the campground and within the campground are a bit daunting, but they are worth it. Timberlake is likely the only campground within the Gorge that is NOT near a busy road or train track. It's perched more than 700 feet above the Columbia River in a lush forest and is quite peaceful. The owner/managers, Kyle and Marissa, are also great! They work their tails off, always with a smile, to make everyone happy. They have pride in their business and it shows. Everything is well maintained and kept clean. They are also full of good information about the local area. The camp sites are all good sized and most of them have privacy. It felt more like a state park than a private one. We had full hook-ups, decent wi-fi, and a consistent 2 bar LTE Verizon phone signal. Satellite would be nearly impossible from many of the sites, but we were able to shoot through a gap between the tall trees. There were no laundry facilities so we washed our clothes in Stevenson. We really liked the convenient and peaceful location and were very comfortable. We would eagerly return and would love to spent much more time exploring the Columbia River Gorge region! [image] [image] We really liked Timberlake RV Park Nearby towns... Carson WA, population 2,279 and elevation 469 feet, is the closest town to the RV park, about 5 miles to the west. It has a gas station, small convenience store, small hardware store, and a couple of small restaurants. There isn't much to Carson WA. Stevenson WA, population 1,465 and elevation 207 feet, is about 9 miles to the west. Though it's smaller than Carson, it's a tourist town and has a bigger selection of services, stores, and restaurants. We used the Laundromat which was conveniently next to the decent sized grocery store. The little town seemed busy on the weekends, but otherwise was quiet and cute. Hood River OR, population 7,167 and elevation 160 feet, is 21 miles to the east. The town is in a beautiful setting wedged between the Columbia River and prominent Mount Hood. It's clearly an outdoors oriented town with a good selection of outdoor type businesses. There is also a good selection of restaurants, a regular Walmart, and a nice Safeway grocery store. If you can't find what you need in Hood River, then Vancouver WA and Portland OR are an hour drive to the west of the RV park. Adventures... On 3 June we saw four pretty waterfalls... The goal today was to see waterfalls. It was a bonus that they would be at maximum flow! The area had above average snowfall and it was peak spring runoff. On this adventure, we would see four waterfalls along the Columbia River Gorge: Horsetail, Ponytail, Oneonta, and Triple Falls. We got an early start since it was a Saturday. We saw Horsetail fall as soon as we pulled into the parking area. It plunges right next to the Historic Columbia River Highway on the Oregon side. Next, we walked a half mile up the road to make it a loop hike. We spoke with a local sheriff on the highway that was helping with a dog rescue. We could hear the poor pooch barking somewhere up the steep cliffs. By the time we got back the rescue crews were gone. Hopefully there was a happy outcome. We hit the Oneonta Gorge trail and it pitched steadily up. Plus, it was a little rocky but we only saw one or two other people. We relished being back in the lush, green forest of the Pacific Northwest. We pointed out all the different sorts of ferns, colorful wildflowers, and the moss dripping all over the huge Douglas trees and maples. Triple Falls was incredible and we spent some time lingering there. At first it was peaceful with just us and one other couple listening to the roar of the water tumbling over the basalt rocks. As we waited more people in larger groups started showing up breaking the meditative mood. We reluctantly left. We picked the Horsetail trail up at a "Y" a bit back down the trail. We saw numerous people along this section of the trail. We heard Ponytail falls before we saw it. When it came into view, we eagerly followed the trail leading us behind the plummeting cascade of water. The well-worn path makes a sharp U. Though you're close to the plummeting water, you stay fairly dry. It was just warm enough that the spray was refreshing. It was a cool experience! We returned to the beginning and Horsetail falls. Now, the parking lot was bursting and cars lined the highway in both directions. [image] [image] Hike route to Horsetail, Ponytail, Oneonta, and Triple Falls / About to climb the Oneonta Trail [image] [image] We parked at Horsetail Falls. It's beautiful! [image] [image] We like walking through these old tunnels / The lush forest of the Pacific Northwest is incredible [image] [image] Triple Falls / Oneonta Falls [image] A point along the trail between Oneonta and Ponytail Falls provided a nice view up the Columbia River. Beacon Rock is on the left. [image] [image] About to walk behind Ponytail Falls / It was cool to walk behind it! On 4 June we saw two more waterfalls... We did two different hikes and each was about five miles long. Beautiful waterfalls awaited. Hike number one ... The Eagle Creek trail is one of the most popular routes in the gorge so we were sure to arrive early on a Sunday morning. We parked a quarter of a mile away from the trailhead for a quick getaway. The trail was an easy pitch up. However, there are a few rocky ledges with impressive drop offs. The cliff walls were dripping from hidden springs, covered in moss with intricate little wildflowers and ferns deftly clinging to the wall. You can do a difficult, 12-mile hike to Tunnel Falls. But, we took a side trail cutoff. The trail drops a quarter of a mile to Eagle Creek and a pebble beach. We were able to see Punch Bowl falls by step-stoning carefully out about ten feet from the beach. The incredible 30 foot Punch Bowl falls are up a steep, narrow canyon. The canyon was dripping with moss and huge ferns. Amazingly we had it all to ourselves for a while. The trail seemed crowded but most of the people were headed up to the Tunnel Falls, another 4 miles up the trail. We were serenaded by multiple birds as we climbed out of the scenic canyon. Arleen wondered if anyone used the iron chains imbedded into the walls where the trail crosses a narrow ledge with a precipitous drop to Eagle Creek. Two minutes later, we moved to the left of the trail to let a terrified woman pass as she clung to the chain. [image] [image] Hike route up the Eagle Creek Trail to Punchbowl Falls / The trail starts about a quarter mile from here [image] [image] The dripping fern and moss covered walls were very pretty / Walking through the moss draped forest [image] It dropped at least a hundred feet off some sections of trail. See the steel cable on the left? A few people held it with a death grip! [image] [image] [image] About to drop to Punchbowl Falls / Contemplating the incredible beauty / Long wall of ferns dripped continuously into the creek [image] Punchbowl Falls is beautiful Hike number two ... We parked at the Bridge of the Gods at Cascade Locks. Before beginning the hike, we got some incredible pictures of the Cascade Locks garden with the bridge in the background. Next, we hurried over to the Pacific Crest Trailhead (PCT) trail head. We posed for a picture to send to our friend Jen, who along with her husband Bill, had hiked the entire 2,650 mile long PCT two years before. Most impressive! We had to walk a short distance to get to the actual trail. First we walked under the steady traffic traversing I-84. Then we had to cross a street and walk up an old road before our feet set down on the actual long distance PCT. Fortunately, it is all clearly signed. The traffic noise faded and soon all we noticed as we hiked up the lovely trail was the old Douglas fir forest and the carpet of sword ferns. After a few miles, we took a right off the PCT. We hiked just another quick quarter mile up the trail and we were treated to a beautiful view of the Dry Creek Falls. The name is deceiving. They are not dry! Impressive, cathedral bluff walls are covered with ferns and mosses. Just below the 50-foot falls a series of rock steps allowed the creek to tumble through all sorts of ferns. It was just so pretty! We took time taking pictures and chatting with the few other people who were there. It was our favorite falls so far. [image] [image] Hike route to Dry Creek Falls / We were excited to hike a sliver of the 2,650 mile long Pacific Crest Trail [image] [image] This is a cool mural on the Bridge of the Gods / Rhododendrons, Bridge of the Gods, and the Columbia River [image] Dry Creek Falls On 5 June we did a bike ride on the old historic Columbia River Highway... "The Historic Columbia River Highway is an approximately 75-mile-long scenic highway in Oregon between Troutdale and The Dalles, built through the Columbia River Gorge between 1913 and 1922. As the first planned scenic roadway in the United States, it has been recognized in numerous ways, including a listing on the National Register of Historic Places as a National Historic Landmark, ... and considered a "destination unto itself". From the very beginning, the roadway was envisioned not just as means of traveling by the then popular Model T, but designed with an elegance that took full advantage of all the natural beauty along the route." Now, the old highway from Hood River to Mosier is a 4.8 mile traffic free area reserved for bikers and walkers. It was a fun, rolling bike ride! We had a great view of Columbia River at two different overlooks. We especially enjoyed gliding through one of the original tunnels. Hood River is closer to the dry side of Oregon but this section of highway stays in the dark lush forest. Also, the wildflowers were peaking. Flowers such as the wild butterfly bush smelled very pleasant. We did not see any wildlife but we were on the lookout for rattle snakes after seeing a warning sign at the visitor center. [image] [image] Bike route on the old Columbia River Highway / Plaque where we started [image] [image] Looking down the Columbia River from the first overlook / Posing between the two tunnels [image] Looking both up and down the Columbia River from the second overlook On 6 June we hiked the Hood River Mountain Ridge Trail... We parked by a gate on Old Dalles road high above and southeast of Hood River. It was marked in accordance with the instructions we had found in the Day Hikes in the Columbia River Gorge book that we borrowed from the campground owners. We hiked a mile and a half up the steep, rocky Hood River Mountain Ridge Trail. The scenery at the top made the effort well worth it! The knob at the top provided an incredible panorama of Mount Adams, Mount Hood, and the Columbia River Gorge. The town of Hood River was far below, obviously set in an outdoors paradise. Unfortunately, some wildflowers were already past their peak. Fortunately, some lupine and paintbrush provided a nice foreground to the dramatic snow covered volcanoes. We took a slow sloping two mile road back to Old Dalles road to make it a pleasant three and a half mile loop. [image] [image] Hike route on the Hood River Mountain Ridge Trail / Posing near the top. Mount Hood, 11,250 feet high, is just 20 miles to the southwest [image] Hiking up the trail. Mount Adams, 12,280 feet high, is 35 miles to the north. [image] The trail along the ridge is very pleasant and has fantastic views [image] [image] Bouquets of pretty wild flowers lined parts of the trail. On 7 June I went salmon fishing... I hadn't fished for salmon in six years. It was time! Every year millions of salmon swim up the Columbia River in route to their spawning grounds. When you're in the right place at the right time, the fishing can be a blast. Kyle, the hard working campground owner, is an avid fisherman and generously shares fishing info. He recommended either Drano Lake, where I'd have the best chance to catch something, or the Wind River, where I'd have a more pleasant experience. I chose the Wind River. I launched the kayak and paddled under the road and train bridges, out to the Columbia River. I fished the deep channel where the Wind River mixes with the Columbia River for a couple of hours and got nothing. The five or six fishermen on the point and a few others in small boats didn't hook any either. It was cool to be on the Columbia. Big barges slowly cruised up the middle and an occasional train chugged along either side of the big river. A regal bald eagle kept me company for a while as it pecked on a dead fish nearby. I switched fishing tactics and targeted bass along the rugged bank. The Columbia supposedly has a good population of bass, but I didn't see any! Next, I paddled back under the two bridges and worked my way slowly up the Wind River. I thought the Indian fishing platforms were really interesting. Too bad they weren't fishing. I would have enjoyed watching. Just a little upstream of the fishing platforms, the current got too strong to continue. I beached the kayak, hopped out, and started throwing a blue vibrax spinner into the deep channel of the sweeping bend. This is exactly how I fished in Alaska and those special memories flooded over me. Mostly, I reminisced about my fishing partner, Ken. Sadly, he was killed in a motorcycle accident in Korea. We spent a lot of time in canoes and tents and fishing just like I was now. I miss you buddy. [image] [image] Kayak route on the Wind and Columbia Rivers / I watched this eagle take its time to eat a dead fish [image] [image] Just launched on the Wind River and headed under the bridges to the Columbia River / Fishermen on the point and in small boats trying to hook salmon. We all got skunked. The barge is slowly cruising up the middle of the huge river. [image] [image] A great blue heron patiently fishing in the shallows / My only fish, a juvenile king salmon. The Indian fishing platforms were interesting. Too bad they weren't fishing at the time. On 10 June we tried to make it to Goose Lake... After a few days of rain, we were ready to get out. My research indicated that Goose Lake was pretty and had good fishing for multiple kinds of trout. It would be a good hour drive to get there along twisting narrow forest roads. We drove up through Carson and took a right on Forest Road #65. We were surprised that it was paved but it was a winding, one lane route with few pullovers for passing oncoming traffic. Also there were numerous branches hanging low over the road. With the kayaks on the truck, we proceeded carefully to make sure that we could squeeze under the branches. It was slow going. Finally, we took a right on Carson Guler Road. Now it was a dirt road. We mildly noticed a few patches of snow in the woods. Then suddenly, just 4.6 miles from our goal, we were thwarted by one to two feet of old snow covering the road. We were just at 3,500 feet elevation and it was a chilly 45 degrees! Since we were not going to make it to Goose Lake, we poked around in the woods. We saw some Amanita mushrooms that were a yellow color. The area was very shroomy with pretty dogwoods, mixed Spruce, maples, and ferns littering the forest floor. Since the way up was precarious, we took Forest Road #60 back. Regrettably, it was cluttered with even more low overhanging branches. In addition, there was a lot of tree debris on the road. I had to get out a couple of times to break branches even though we were just a few short miles from the highway. It was an adventure but not the sort of adventure that we had set out to do. We checked the snow chart when we got back. The Gifford Pinchot forest area is still at 230% normal snow depth water equivalent. Well we found that 230%!!! [image] Drive route to Goose Lake [image] [image] Stopped by 1-2 feet of old snow just four miles from the lake / Lots of debris and low hanging limbs along the narrow winding forest roads Next... We are in La Grande OR and our next stop is McCall ID. We don't know where we'll be after that. Sadly, Arleen is having significant back problems. We may spend the summer in Missoula MT to get her fixed! Stay tuned... Parting shots... [image] The drive across the narrow Hood River Bridge was stressful. NOT recommended for big vehicles! [image] The bridge trolls made us chuckle each time we crossed the Bridge of the Gods [image] [image] A banana slug / A colorful garter snake (173,900) Posted by Mudonthetires

Spock Chutes The Spock Chutes are incredibly difficult, technical, steep and dangerous. They face North, and have a high risk of avalanche danger. They are known to form deadly wind slabs, which you may not discover until you're in the middle of the chute suddenly triggering an avalanche. If you successfully ski them, you'll end up in Granite Canyon, with a fairly long exit back to the resort. Neither chute should be taken lightly. They are basically a big zone of cliff bands that may or may not be filled in, and when they are filled in, the way down is not always obvious (and if you go wrong you might be going off cliffs). Going in the skiable trees next to the chutes won't make it any safer; you'll either be dumped back into the chute or surprised by huge cliffs. Never drop into a zone in the backcountry when other people are still in it down below you. If you see fresh tracks going in, you should wait or choose another objective. Maps *All Mapped Areas are Approximations Trip Reports 03/02/2016 - (hillbanging.com) 02/20/2016 - (hillbanging.com) 01/28/2016 - (hillbanging.com) Guide Books Jackson Hole Ski Atlas, Edition III by Angus M. Thuermer[image] (Links to guidebooks may be affiliate links) Videos All videos are Copyright their respective owners. These are 3rd party videos hosted on YouTube or Vimeo and we make no guarantees as to their accuracy or relevance. Jackson Part II A CHUTE AND SPOCK by Lars Mars: 03/15/2011 [video] Granite Canyon Pow Fest March 2011 by Conor Cook: 03/06/2011 [video] Find Nearby Zones *All Mapped Areas are Approximations tagged: Southern Tetons, Teton Range

Wet West Highlands - Beinn Teallach & Beinn a Chaorainn 13 comments I don't get to Scotland anything like as often as I want. We used to head up there many times a year for winter walks, backpacking, New Year and Easter Trips, skiing weekends etc. I managed to reach the magic 200 Munro's mark back in 1999 (Ben Lomond if you're interested) but in the intervening 22 years I've only managed to make it to 213! My mates UF and MM have become somewhat obsessed with completing them in the past couple of years and have been taking more regular trips. As part of the effort UF planned a September bagging trip and as I hadn't done much holiday stuff I thought I'd join him. MM tagged along as did the Prof and his better half. [image] Hopes were high after what appears to have been a dry and sunny summer by Scottish standards but - you guessed it - as soon as we arrived the skies turned grey and for 5 days we saw mostly cloud and rain. No matter as we'd booked a very fine cottage in Glencoe and packed plenty of food and board games to keep us occupied. [image] The first day looked like heading north and bit east would see the best chance of drier weather. As none of us had done the twin Munro's of Beinn Teallach and Beinn a Chaorainn north of Glen Spean (well MM wasn't sure so that counts as a "not done") that's where we headed. [image] As you can see from the photos it wasn't exactly wall-to-wall blue sky, but I've been out on much worse days (we relived a few as the day progressed). Below the cloud in the early part of the day it was ok. The first section was enlivened by an interesting river crossing - any more water and we'd have been a bit stuffed without a long trek up the valley. [image] A glimpse of Loch Treig below the clouds. [image] Pausing before the start of the main climb to Beinn Teallach. [image] What the intervening years have helped with is paths. Nowadays, with the popularity of hillwalking increasing, even the most remote and least known Munro's have baggers paths up them. After a poor start we found one on Beinn Teallach and it eased what was a pretty relentless slog through soggy grass and heather. [image] Here's our happy team on the summit of the smallest Munro, Beinn Teallach being exactly 3000 feet high. Its been in and out of the list over the years as survey accuracy has improved. [image] On the way down to the col the weather improved and we had some half decent views into the wilderness that lies to east of the Great Glen. We sat down for lunch but sadly this little spell was just a precursor to the cloud and rain returning and it was pretty damp and dismal for the rest of the day. [image] A few hardy souls carried on to the second Munro of the day, Beinn a Charoainn. As you can see from the photo below of the summit party, the weather was actually pretty grim by now. Strong winds, driving drizzle and zero views. [image] You'll have to imagine the spectacular drop of the east face and the views across to Creag Meagaidh [image] We hurried down out of the cloud and over the final top of Meall Clachaig. This was ironic as after returning to the the cottage and cleaning ourselves up we headed to the famous Clachaig Inn in Glencoe for a meal! I can report it's substantially improved since my early Scottish hill days with a great choice of food and beers and a pleasant bar area. To be honest it was a shit-hole back in the 80's and 90's but we spent many happy hours in there after climbing the Glencoe mountains, especially the Aonach Eagach which sits directly above. When you've completed one of the best rock ridges on the mainland then I think a pint or 3, or 4 or more is entitled. Age has caught up and a couple of pints had us ready for bed. Not a bad day out all things considered and a decent workout at 13 miles and 4,000 feet of ascent. [image]

Backpacking the High Sierra Trail in 6 Days Alice Kao November 5, 2017 Backpacking, Article, Trip Report, California I finally had the opportunity to hike the High Sierra Trail, a trail I've been dying to do for years! Those 6 days in some of the most remote parts of Sequoia and Kings Canyon National Park blew me away with everything the Sierra has to offer - snow capped mountain ranges, sheer exposed drop offs and peaks, crystal clear alpine lakes, and lush grassy meadows. This was the longest trip I've ever done, and planning for a week in backcountry was certainly challenging. I've wrote up several blog posts with photos, maps, and helpful tips that you might find useful when planning a trip of your very own! View fullsize [image] View fullsize [image] I had always wanted to do a longer backpacking trip, and although the first that comes to mind is the famous 211 mile John Muir Trail, with most of us working normal full time jobs, it can be difficult to get a whole 3 weeks off. Then I heard about the High Sierra Trail, a 72 mile trans-Sierra hike that also exits at Mt. Whitney just like the JMT. Being <100 miles, it would only take us a week to finish. Plus, it passes right by a lake that had been on my dream list for a long time - Precipice Lake. Itinerary The High Sierra Trail starts on the western edge of the Sierra in Sequoia National Park, climbs up and over the western mountain range, and then crosses the valley before climbing up and over the eastern mountain range with a short detour up to the summit of Mt. Whitney. Backpackers will complete this iconic trip in a variable number of days ranging from 5 (ultralight) to 8 or more. We had originally planned for a conservative 8 day itinerary to allow ourselves to take our time and enjoy the beauty of the scenery, but once we were on the trail, we pushed the extra miles on the final 4 days to be able to hike out in just 6 days. If I were to do it again, I'd probably prefer an 8 day, more relaxed itinerary to allow for more time to relax at each spot or for optional side trips. In addition to online research and reading tons of trip reports, the Tom Harrison map of the entire trail that we brought was extremely useful. The map allowed us to look ahead to scout possible campsites and see how much more climbing and miles we had in that day. Having this insight allowed us to make spontaneous decision depending on the conditions and how we were feeling to be more flexible with our itinerary. Itinerary break down day by day: [image] [image] [image] [image] [image] [image] Some Fun Awards! Favorite DayDay 3: Hamilton Lake to Moraine Lake - because of the views hands down. This included Precipice Lake and crossing over the Great Western Divide. Hardest DayDay 4: Moraine Lake to Junction Meadow - not only our longest day in terms of miles, but the steep descent down into Kern Valley at the beginning of the day really took it out on my legs for the rest of the day, and then the scenery during the stretch in the valley was slightly monotonous (I greatly prefer the dramatic and exposed views!). Favorite LakePrecipice Lake - the one lake I was most excited to see! So picturesque and absolutely photogenic. I was hoping for some ice chunks to still be floating in the lake, but they all must have melted by this late in the season. Favorite CampsiteHamilton Lake - even though it was the spot where we saw the most people the entire trip, I can see why this lake nestled by a granite dome is a favorite. There were lots of well developed camp sites with alpine views, and being close to the water helped me feel truly at home. Permits [iframe] Permits for the HST are easier to obtain compared to the famous John Muir Trail out of Yosemite Valley, but the High Sierra Trail can still be difficult to snag on peak summer weekend starts. We weren't able to get any permits until the very end of the season, September 17-24th. We knew we would be dealing with colder and more variable weather, but we took what we got. Since the High Sierra Trail start is out of Crescent Meadow in Sequoia National Park, you'll want to reserve your permit online via Recreation.gov exactly 24 weeks before your trip. Click to read about all of the important California backpacking permit deadlines No available permits? If you are having difficulty finding available permits, you can sign up to track specific dates and be notified of any cancellations via Outdoor Status. If the Crescent Meadow trailhead is already filled, you can also consider starting at the Alta Peak trailhead, or there is always the option to try for a walk up permit. [image] Transportation One of the hardest parts of planning the trip is figuring out transportation. Since the High Sierra Trail is a one way hike across an entire mountain range, you'll either need to arrange pickup or set up your own double car shuttle. I cover all of the different options and their advantages and disadvantages in a blog post about transportation here. We opted for setting up our own shuttle and reserved an entire day before starting our hike to drive to Mount Whitney first to drop off one of the cars. If you can get two cars, I'd recommend this method the most, as the flexibility of having our own car at the trailhead allowed us to hike out two whole days earlier and shorten our trip on the fly. Campsites A nice thing about the High Sierra Trail is the abundance of campsites and bear vaults along the entire trail. We planned our trip around the sites that we knew had bear vaults, and I've heard some people are even able to forgo the bear canister completely and hike the entire trail by camping by a bear box each night! We wanted the flexibility of possibly camping at a spot without a bear box, so we we decided to pack our Bear Vault BV500. Fires Some sites at the lower elevations even allow fires, which is always a rare and welcome treat when backpacking in the Sierra. There were several great campsites with well developed fire pits complete with tree benches, but areas like Hamilton Lake (8,234 ft) still have area-specific fire restrictions due to the high traffic these spots receive. West of the Great Western Divide campfires are not allowed above 9,000 ft, and east of it campfires aren't allowed above 10,000 ft. In general, try to use the already existing and obvious fire rings at your site to reduce your impact on the land. What to Pack Packing for the longest backpacking trip I've done to date was challenging, and slightly stressful. It was hard wrapping my head around the fact that everything I would need for an entire week should fit in a single backpack on my back, but once I gathered everything together, it was easy to eliminate and add items based on the room I had. Click here for our entire High Sierra Trail pack list Food Click here to read about all of my favorite meals and foods to bring while backpacking! Making sure we had enough food and calories for a strenuous 8 day trip took a lot of planning as well. Normally I lean towards the gourmet foodie kind of person when it comes to eating on the trail, so this time I actually calculated the calories per gram of each food and focused on calorie dense meals. At the top of that list were: 1. Peanut butter2. Trail mix3. Powdered milk (Nestle Nido)4. Peanut m&ms5. Sandwich crackers (Keebler variety pack) We packed everything into ziplocks and portioned everything into snack packs divided by day for each person for better organization. Conclusion Looking back on hiking the High Sierra Trail, the entire trip really felt like quite the journey for me. I can easily say it was the hardest thing I've ever done physically, and the mental aspect was just as challenging as well. I love that you can access some of the most remote areas of the Sierra just a couple days in and that none of the scenery is repeated due to the one-way nature of the hike. Have you hiked the High Sierra? Let me know how it went for you! What to read next General planning:My complete High Sierra Trail pack listHow to plan transportation for the HSTMy favorite meals while backpacking Itinerary:Day 1: Crescent Meadow to 9 Mile CreekDay 2: 9 Mile Creek to Hamilton LakeDay 3: Hamilton Lake to Moraine LakeDay 4: Moraine Lake to Junction MeadowDay 5: Junction Meadow to Guitar LakeDay 6: Guitar Lake out to Whitney Portal

Kerhlein, Ken, and Eichorn Minarets Posted on September 3, 2010 | 2 Comments [image] Minarets in Iceberg Lake Or, "Dr. Dirtbag gets his ass handed to him by the Minarets." It was "epic," I guess, but not in the "dude, that was totally epic" sense; few peaks, much tricky climbing, and a fair helping of fear. The Minarets are a prominent, serrated ridge west of Mammoth Mountain. There are 13 to 17 named summits, depending on how you count, the highest being Clyde Minaret. All of them are challenging, with the easiest routes mostly ranging from class 4 to 5.6. The ridge has been traversed in a single day several times, but the Minaret traverse is one of the harder Sierra traverses. Knowing I didn't have a chance at completing the whole traverse, my plan was to start with Ken (south of Clyde), traverse Clyde, Eichorn, and Michael, then if things looked good, continue north, climbing what I could. I got a lazy alpine start from Agnew Meadows at 6 AM. Red's Meadow is a better starting point for the full traverse, but both meadows are nearly equidistant from Cecile Lake, and I slightly prefer the trail from Agnew. The water there, however, is almost undrinkably metallic and foul. The trail past Ediza was familiar and forgettable, but Iceberg Lake was in prime picture-taking condition, so I spent some time playing with my camera. I got some drinkable water at Cecile Lake, then headed southwest to South Notch. Where it was in the sun, the permanent snowfield below the notch was soft enough to kick steps in the less-steep areas. Since it is so close to the notch and supposedly 4th class by its north face, I gave in to temptation and decided to tag Kehrlein Minaret first. Getting to the rock was a bit of a challenge: I had to spend quite awhile chipping steps with a sharp rock to get across the steeper, shadowed snow to the closest rock. Once there, I took what looked like the easiest route up a rightward-trending chute with broken blocks toward western summit. It seemed harder than class 4 to me, but with some flailing I reached the gap south of the summit, and from there it was a straightforward climb. I sat for awhile while recovering from such a struggle on a "class 4" route and fighting with the register canister before starting down the northwest ridge. If you climb Kehrlein, bring a hammer or large pliers (or someone stronger than me), because the register canister seems to be stuck. There are some truly intimidating pinnacles along the ridge to the east. The northwest ridge felt more like class 3 than class 4, and I was soon at South Notch. This was the pattern for the day: supposedly 4th class routes varied wildly in difficulty, from 3rd to 5th. Since the ridge from the notch to Ken requires rappels, I came at it from the Clyde-Ken couloir. After a bit of fun climbing a tower southwest of the notch, I dropped down to the snow, then carefully made my way along its boundary with the rock until the slope lessened enough to kick steps. Along the way, I found a full 60-meter rope hanging from a notch north of the Notch, with an old carabiner on the end. Apparently someone coming home late had trouble getting down the hard snow, and had to abandon some good gear. The couloir started as a miserable pile of loose talus, but turned into a fun 4th class climb after leaving the couloir to the left. A band of lighter-colored rock was particularly pleasant. I (mistakenly, as it turned out) angled right to the gap at the top of the couloir, which has an impressive view of Michael Minaret. From the gap, I followed the ridge for awhile, then contoured along the west side on talus and blocks. There are several pinnacles on the ridge; the true summit can be recognized by a white rappel sling around the highest block. Unfortunately, by the time I saw the sling, the west side had steepened considerably, and despite much wasted time, I could not find a way up the face to the summit ridge. I had climbed pretty close to the limit of what I could safely reverse, so the downclimb was slow, exhausting, difficult, and sometimes frightening. I headed back north, regained the ridge, and found that the climb is in fact 4th class if you stay near the top of the ridge. If you stay left of the gap, you reach the ridge without trouble. The two short chimney sections just below the summit are stiff, though, and require some desperate stemming; it looked like many parties rappel down and perhaps even rope up. After returning to the Clyde-Ken saddle, I traversed over blocks and loose talus to the chute below the Clyde-Eichorn saddle, then headed up. The flailing on Ken had taken more out of me than I had hoped, and I was painfully slow. I was also low on water, and stopped at a couple of small patches of snow to stuff my camelbak with snowballs. I made straight for Eichorn from 100 feet or so down the chute, passing a discouraging number of false summits. Secor describes the last part of the route as "drop 50 feet to a ledge, traverse to just below the summit, and climb a short 4th-class pitch." I found nothing of the sort either coming or going, just a maze of blocky fins and gullies followed by a choice of difficult 4th class gullies to the summit. Bob Burd reports a similar experience, so I would be interested to hear from anyone who found this supposed ledge. I sat down to eat my sandwich, but it didn't inspire me enough to traverse over to Michael. It was getting late and there was snow on Michael's north side (which the route traverses), but these were just excuses; I was defeated, and wanted the day to be over quickly. Sadly, this was not to be. The traverse back to the rock route on Clyde was slow in my drained state, with much panting and muttering of expletives. My first view of the rock route was not encouraging: though part of the face was clean, the top part of the route was still littered with patches of snow. Thankfully the snow was still soft and the meltwater had not yet frozen. I had climbed and descended the route last month, and found it then to be mostly a class 3 mixture of dirt ledges, slabs, and short cracks. However, the snow made the slabs treacherous and hid what lay on the ledges, forcing me to tread extremely carefully. Also, since wet soles have poor traction, edging and smearing became more difficult. After much unpleasantness, I reached the ledge at the base. Rather than following the ledge south, I managed to take a bit of a shortcut by edging between the glacier and rock to the north, then sliding across the flattest part to the grass, slabs, and talus above the north end of Lake Cecile, where I got more water and got out my headlamp. I walked quickly down to Ediza, telling a couple of passing climbers about the tricky descent. I ran much of the trail to Shadow, then walked the rest of the trail to Agnew with only 30-40 minutes of headlamp time. [image] Unseasonable wildflowers [image] Minarets in Iceberg Lake [image] Again [image] Kehrlein Minaret [image] Step-chipping required. [image] Ridge east of Kehrlein [image] South Notch (l) and abandoned rope (r) [image] Michael from Clyde-Ken saddle [image] Looking down route up Ken. [image] Ken's summit pinnacle. [image] Fires and Half Dome [image] Traverse to Eichorn [image] Looking down at the rock route.

MOUNT MAUDE July 4, 2005 [image] Ben's route in late July 2002. The green dot is the end of the traverse. July 4, 2005. Courage is the price that life exacts for granting peace. The soul that knows it not, knows no release from little things; knows not the livid loneliness of fear, nor mountain heights where bitter joy can hear the sound of wings. Amelia Earhart Putnam... Photos and story by Jason After waking early that morning and going mountain biking in Post Canyon, Oregon, I was set on meeting with several others to ski the North Face of Mount Maude the next day. There wasn't much reasoning behind our decision, especially with sights of the North Face of Hood and the North Face of Adams throughout the day. Both of which were nearby and both of which were absolutely preening. Josh and I left during the midst of another BBQ, resorting to some pirating before leaving. That night after more than 3hrs of driving, we arrived home to a message from Sam, "Let's meet at 3am at my place." By then it was past 11pm and we had yet to get our bike and kayak gear unloaded. By the time that was done and my ski gear was packed and reloaded, I had only an hour to stare at the ceiling before heading to Seattle. Sky and Paul were waiting for us since we were behind schedule. They had risked riding their bikes through traffic to get there, which I'm sure was a head turner - to see a full pack with skis jutting up, flying down the highway like an antelope. The drive to the parking lot was familiar and by light we were speeding up the dirt road to our starting point. A lot less snow was blanketing the higher peaks than I would've hoped. There was only a patch or two on the South Face of Maude, leaving me to worry about how much white stuff the North Face would have waiting for us. The climb up Maude begins with 3.6 miles to Leroy Creek, which is easily crossed. From there you climb to a basin named the same as the stream whose waters offer a cool drink before a long traverse, another climb and a short drop down to Ice Lakes, followed by scree and another uphill before finally getting to the summit. This last part acts like the surface of the sun and I'm no Superman; I burnt up along with the others, leaving plenty of time to ponder the questions, "Why do I carry skis?" And, "Why aren't I fishing?" [image] Glacier Peak . We all waited for Paul on the summit by taking a much deserved nap. When he arrived we didn't give him much of a chance to rest, instead gathered our gear and prepared to go. I crawled down some rocks covered with a million lady bugs that were hard to not crunch. Fortunately the snow was nearby, allowing me to both clean my boots and the bottom of my skis. On a cornice I sat in wait for the others, who in turn watched Sky who took first dibs by cranking a fantastic set of turns all the way down the fall line. The film makes this look flat, but the top is nearly 50 degrees, below which nothing falls much under forty-five with big exposure. My turns weren't great, not as good as the West Face Couloir. My knee had been bruised on the White Salmon after a fall and I wasn't inclined to take any risks since it really did hurt like hell. As a matter of fact I shouldn't have been there, but I couldn't help myself. Skiing is a disease and my only medicine is the almighty turn. [image] The summit. [image] Paul in front with Sam climbing over the mass of lady bugs massing for an assault on the summit. [image] Sky and Bill preparing to ski down the face. [image] It's all you Bill. [image] That a boy, get your redemption. [image] An Act of Sky - part I [image] part II [image] part III [image] part IV We each took a few turns at a time and tried to avoid each other. There were decisions to make and Sky yelled out, "So, what do you want to do? Cross the traverse or ski to the bottom?" [image] Looking up. Whoa! Par 4? Bringing out the Big HITTER, eh? That cornice drops in a few minutes!!! [image] Sam in the rough. [image] Fernow sure looks good - except for that red smudge on the left. [image] Alright! Let's keep that green mowed nice and short. That a' way. I yelled my answer back, "I think we should cross the traverse. Everything below here looks pretty melted out and I don't know if we would get that many turns anyhow." As Bill pulled up to the traverse, I heard him proclaim, "I have my redemption." There is a story behind that comment that is best told by Ben, but to make a long story short Bill, Josh and I sat beneath a cliff in the fog and rain and watched Ben climb and ski the face alone. Now that we had come full circle we all felt like we had earned some sort of salvation and this alone was enough to make me feel glad that I had come all this way. [image] Josh with the Entiat Icefall left of center. About halfway through the traverse, we were reminded of fate. A cornice that crouches over the North Face, whom which we had pondered during our ski had succumbed to gravity only half an hour after we skied off of the face. I watched it in slow motion while it played over and over in my head. Yes we had made the right decision to take the traverse. Yes, we could have been earlier. But what really bothered me was the fact that I didn't take the cornice seriously. Maybe the fact that it sits there all spring made it feel less dangerous? Maybe? I guess that this is another cheap lesson for me and as if to solidify a reminder with pain, I struck my other knee against a rock, dropping me to the ground in misery. [image] Left to right: Josh, Bill and Paul. [image] Wasn't that good Paul? The way back was the same as the way there except for a short ski down off of Maude-Jack Col. Next to another stream we rested, and I thought about the last three days: the kayaking on the White Salmon, the mountain biking in Post Canyon , the skiing on the North Face of Mount Maude. I realized that it was all worth it; the 20 hours of driving and the effort above and beyond to do each of the things I had done. So I carry my skis, so I kayak dangerous rivers and bike over log drops. It is my life and "...the soul that knows it not, knows no release...."

Mt Elwell via Long Lake Loop [image] There is no better alarm clock than cows mooing. We woke up on our ranch ready to tackle the day after successfully summiting English Mountain the day prior. [image] I thought about changing the plans and just relaxing on the front porch, but we had a goal to accomplish. We drove to the trailhead at the end of Elwell Lodge Road and headed in the direction of Long Lake. [image] Before reaching the lake, we took a right and headed north along the eastern shoreline. [image] [image] The trail was flat and headed through manzanita brush. Robin and George followed, happy that there would be a trail today. [image] [image] [image] After reaching the northern side of the lake, we crossed a small dam at the location of the lake outlet. [image] [image] [image] From the northern edge of the lake, the trail started to head west underneath the base of Mt Elwell. [image] [image] [image] I noticed the various islands and was intrigued. I wanted to swim to one of these islands, but first we had to summit. [image] From here the trail started to climb. George was now in his element and he started to lead the pack. [image] The trail switchbacked at a comfortable gradient. We took some short rests along the way, taking in the views of the lake below. [image] [image] The peak loomed above us, but it didn't look too challenging to reach, especially with a trail. [image] We soon made it to the ridgeline, and from here we continued following the trail to the northeast. [image] Eventually the summit block came into view. [image] At first it looked like it might be a slight challenge, but after following the trail further, I found a class 2 route to the top of the summit block. [image] Within minutes, Asaka and I were standing on the top. To the east was Beckwourth Peak. [image] To the north was Plumas National Forest. [image] [image] Below us to the west were Rock Lake and Jamison Lake. [image] Back towards the south were Long Lake and the Sierra Buttes. [image] Robin wore the yellow jacket after the previous day's hike, but George would not be denied on day 2 as he was first to join us on the summit. It is clear that George prefers trail hiking. I was a little disappointed because smoke from distant forest fires obscured the view of Mt Lassen. After snacking and drinking water, we decided to head back down towards Long Lake. [image] At the fork in the trail, we took a right and headed down towards the west side of the lake. Once we reached lake level, we followed a use trail which took us to the lake's edge. [image] [image] I was interested in finding a place to swim, so I headed south in search of a nice rock beach. [image] As we walked along the shoreline, we crossed a small creek next to a dock and came across a cabin. It didn't look like anyone was home, so we walked in front of the cabin and continued until finding a nice rocky area to jump in the water. I was first to jump in and was shortly followed by Asaka. I convinced the others to jump in, and in the meantime I swam to an island in the middle of the lake. This island was much more tiring to reach than I expected, but I eventually made it to the safety of the rocks. I wanted Asaka to join me, but did not want to put her in any danger of drowning, so I instructed her to blow up some inflatable couch she bought me for my birthday which she asked me to bring along. Once her floating device was ready, she kicked her way out to me. The others seemed content by the lakeside, so after relaxing for a bit, we kicked our way back. It was tougher to return because the wind was pushing against us. I thought about catching the breeze and drifting all the way across to the eastern shoreline, but then we would be ditching Robin and George. We eventually made it back to the western shoreline where we put our shoes back on and hiked in the direction of the trail. We headed along a use trail which took us in the direction of the cabin and then headed cross country as to not get too close to the cabin. We soon reconnected with the main trail and continued along the path around the lake. [image] We even encountered some bonus lakes along the way. [image] [image] [image] [image] We came to another fork which gave us the option to either return to the car within a half mile or hike a mile or so extra to see some additional bonus lakes. The others quickly agreed on the shorter option, and we made it back to the car within 15 minutes, thus ending our first hiking trip together. For Tumblr By Peter Vidani

Saturday, March 16, 2013 North to Alaska After a great weekend in Crested Butte I finally headed north, planning to stop on my way to visit good friends in Vernal and then Jackson. Looking west towards Crested Butte from Delta: [image] Reaching Vernal around 10 on Monday night, I quickly realized that the 5 hour drive to Jackson would need to by postponed until the next day. Of course, driving into Jackson during the day is always a treat: [image] I spent four days in Jackson with my good friend Erik Mehus. We skied the resort, the amazing Granite Canyon sidecountry, and the sled skiing terrain of Teton Pass' Phillips Canyon. Erik took advantage of one of the few moments of good light over the four days to take this cliff on Teton Pass really really deep: [image] Friday night I was on the road again, headed from Wyoming through Idaho and into Montana: [image] That night I made it outside of Butte, and after a quick repacking of my car... [image] SubaLodge was born! [image] Saturday morning brought a prolonged Walmart stop in Great Falls before heading into Alberta: [image] Alberta reminded me a lot of Colorado's Front Range; plains to the east: [image] and mountains to the west: [image] At Calgary I turned west, headed for Banff and Jasper. After a quiet and beautiful night in Jasper National Park, the world's largest dark sky preserve, I continued on the Icefields Highway. Unfortunately, light snow obscured some of the views, but what I could see was beautiful: [image] [image] Some very cool bending and tilting: [image] [image] [image] By Jasper I was low on gas and relieved to find a gas station. It was in french... [image] s'il vous plait??? [image] ... [image] ... [image] After Jasper I headed west into British Columbia towards the Stewart-Cassiar highway. The first day in BC was mostly through mountain valleys shaded by tall peaks: [image] [image] The next day I turned north onto the Stewart-Cassiar highway. The Skeena River: [image] [image] Almost immediately onto the S-C highway things started to get more interesting: [image] I began to worry that I was going run out of gas when the "town" I had planned to fill up at did not actually have services; 100 kilometers later I found gas at Last Frontier Heliskiing: [image] Where this cute dog was busy rolling in the middle of the road: [image] The S-C highway is a bit wild: there is no shoulder, its largely unplowed, and everyone drives down the middle of the road at 50 kph over the speed limit - OK, I see you have no intention of stopping, why don't you go first? [image] Hours of this: [image] Monday night I rejoined the Alaska highway in Yukon, making it just short of Whitehorse. The next day I stopped at the Whitehorse rec center for a break from the driver's seat and a shower. This was by far the nicest rec center I've ever been to, complete with indoor turf fields, 4 locker rooms, and even a Subway Restaurant inside. For future reference, in Canada, weight rooms are "wellness centers"... [image] For dinner I found this cultural gem, where Betty obligingly sat next to me, watching me eat while educating me on the finer points of geopolitics of today and beyond. [image] After a delicious maple ham hamburger at Buckshot Bettys, I continued north on the AK highway; passing the Kluane Mountains which harbor the highest mountain in Canada: [image] [image] On Tuesday I passed Haines Junction, where this large blue serrac hangs over the moraine of a valley glacier: [image] I filled up at Burwash Landing along Kluane Lake and watched this husky that couldn't have been happier to be playing catch in 5 degree F temps: [image] Tuesday night I left the Yukon and reentered the US, making it just past Glenallen where, for the first time in my life, I fell asleep under the northern lights. Wednesday morning brought with it beautiful views of the Chugach mountains as I approached the Matanuska Valley. [image] Reaching Palmer around noon, I turned north away from Anchorage and towards Hatcher Pass. At the trailhead I jumped on my sled and spent a couple hours scoping future lines: [image] But, finding myself miles from the trailhead and my sled good and stuck in a gully, I started to worry about the momma brown bear we encountered at Hatcher last year. With unrealistic visions of a cold and bloody death, I dug my sled out and I hightailed it back to the parking lot and south towards Anchorage. In Anchorage I met Lauren at 6 PM for a sunset ski on Peak 3: [image] Thursday was spent running errands in Anchorage before a quick Friday Morning drive to Whittier to catch the Cordova ferry. Whittier is accessed via a one lane highway that is shared with the train: [image] Popping out of the tunnel, the low gray overcast of the Turnagain Arm had been left behind: [image] The ferry ride across the Prince William Sound was one of the most beautiful experiences of my life: huge mountains, glaciers, whales and friendly people. Looking back at Whittier: [image] [image] [image] Maybe the Portage Glacier? [image] [image] [image] Montague Island: [image] [image] [image] Looks warm, right? [image] Almost! [image] Almost there! [image] At 8 PM Rachel picked me up in Cordova, and the next day she took me out to ski this! [image] 3,300 miles later my car needs an oil change! Posted by Mike Records

Mt Rainier: Skiing East Success Glacier Couloir 8 June 2007 [image] Sky ponders the objective, directly above him. Success Glacier Couloirs first made a blip on my radar when Lowell Skoog cited a descent by Luke Edgar and Chad Kellogg (on snowboards) in defense of the assertion that For really extreme descents, the best tool may not be a pair of skis at all, but a snowboard. This came in the midst of a discussion on turns-all-year.com: Semantics: Backcountry Skiing or Ski Mountaineering?. Intrigued by "Quite possibly the steepest descents yet done in the Northwest," I hypersurfed to alpenglow.org where Lowell's notes about a Couloir article from October 1998 lit my eyes with this scintillating summary: averaging 50 degrees with some sections at 60 degrees What's this, averaging 50 with some sections at 60? This description screams "Ski Sickness!" and demands investigation. One thing that delayed the diagnosis was a longish approach. As of last week, it had somehow become the only "reasonable" one-day route left on my Rainier list. Three hours into the day, we left Paradise as four. I was accompanied by two gluttons for punishment plus one fresh victim, Dave B. Admittedly, my goal was ambitious, especially for a new acquaintance; but Dave seemed adequately experienced, having made many trips in the Colorado Rockies and Wyoming's Wind River Range. We approached from Paradise, across Nisqually and Wilson Glaciers, across Van Trump Glaciers, then finally crossing the Kautz Glacier. The distance may not have been much less than from West Side Road, but it was nice to use skis and minimize the effort. The eastern couloir was an easy choice. A bergschrund spanned the bottom of the other two, which looked littered with rockfall anyway. East Success Glacier Couloir had the least rockfall and appeared to be the most aesthetic of the three for a ski descent. [image] Dave B. enjoys a beautiful sunrise from the Wilson Glacier. [image] Sky and Dave hike Success Glacier toward the couloirs. Photo by ZBO [image] Sky boots toward SGCs with Mt Adams in the background. Dave and I maintained a steady pace and found ourselves ahead of the others. Unfortunately, the two gluttons already had their fill below the bergschrund. It seems that a large, falling rock may have stymied them; they claimed fatigue during debriefing. There hadn't been an obvious way to avoid rockbands from below. Sometimes, foreshortening makes the situation look deceptively bad. By the time we reached 12k, close inspection offered no relief; the rockbands were inevitable. We climbed through three rockbands. After the first, most difficult of the three, my motivation was lacking. I just wasn't stoked about a bunch of rockbands. Dave saved the day by chugging ahead at full throttle. The next rockband was just a mellow, volcanic beach: a lovely afternoon, soaking in the sun at the screeside. The last rockband was guarded by steep, rotten snow, but by that time I was in the lead again and feeling a little summit fever along with my Ski Sickness. [image] Dave climbs through the first rockband. [image] Dave near the top of the second rockband The clouds had been lapping at the mountain all day. The Tatoosh Range and Pyramid Peak would both come and go, depending on whether the maritime cloudbank was at high tide or low. This made me anxious; we spent very little time atop Point Success before clicking into our skis. The clouds hit another low some time around our first downclimb, which eased my anxiety. Making the return traverse to Paradise in a whiteout would have really stunk. [image] And now - beautiful! - we get to downclimb all those rockbands we were dumb enough to climb. Round 1. [image] Dave, last downclimb The snow was soft throughout the route. There were no slips on the fifty-degree scree, the hard ice below first/last (climb/downclimb) rockband had softened, and finally we were left with a very beautiful 3,000 ft to ski down East Success Glacier Couloir and Success Glacier to where we had left our gear. [image] The skiing between the middle and bottom rockbands was pretty sweet... [image] ... with beautiful exposure. [image] Dave skis above the clouds. [image] Dave, still skiing. [image] Sky skis Successfully. The traverse that had been so quick in the morning seemed painfully long on return. Maybe not for Dave; he seemed pretty tough. We found ourselves above the Wilson Glacier circa seven in the evening, too late for optimal snow, but quite happy that the clouds weren't hiding the Nisqually Glacier. Great first trip, Dave! Seventeen hours for Success. Sorry to my other two compadres; we'll nail the next one. Barring significant June accumulation, I can't think of anything else I want to do on the south side of Tahoma this season. That is, anything other than drinking beer, making lazy turns down the Muir Snowfield, and lounging in the sun. That might be fun. ... Success Glacier Couloirs are beautiful and worthy lines. Proud descent, Luke and Chad! Now, why haven't any snowboarders been schussing steeps in the northwest recently? I was ready to talk all kinds of trash, but Success Glacier Couliors may merit that description. I think the rockband at the top was the same one I sidestepped to make a complete Kautz Headwall ski descent last June, which seemed pretty 60°-ish to me. Overall, I prefer the Kautz Headwall because it goes directly down the gut, instead of having that slightly traversey feel from Point Success to the Success Couloirs. I don't think the Point Success lines are as difficult as lines like Liberty Ridge, Central Mowich Face, or Sunset Ridge. Regardless, these south-facing routes deserve more descents. The real beauty of them is that as long as there's snow, it will soften with the sun like clockwork. There's no glacier-ice problem like on the steep north faces. I will return to ski these steep, south-facing beauties year after year; conditions on Rainier's north-facing routes are much more ephemeral.

Rocky Gulch Rocky Gulch is to the skier's right of Glory Bowl. You'll go down the ridge to the S-SE from the top of the Mt. Glory bootpack, which starts across the street from the parking lot on top of the pass. Drop into your run when you reach the terrain that goes down to the Southeast and doesn't funnel into Glory Bowl. This zone is a terrain trap, and you could be swept through trees if there is a slide. This area is often blasted by the highway patrol, which should tell you something about its stability and threat to the road. Never ski this area in possible avalanche conditions. Maps *All Mapped Areas are Approximations Trailheads Teton Pass Summit There is an overflow lot where parking is permitted 1 quarter of a mile to the East of the summit of Teton Pass. Sometimes parking is closed at the top of the pass and in those times you'll have to be dropped off or hitchhike. Find Nearby Zones *All Mapped Areas are Approximations tagged: Teton Pass, Teton Range

Backcountry Skiing Front Range September ski- Skyscraper (24 Sept 2011) September 28, 2011September 28, 2011 Brittany Walker Konsella 2 Comments (Last Updated On: September 28, 2011) Ever since the spring became "endless winter", I've been talking about skiing all the months of this year. While I have no goal of doing this every year, with the snow bountiful, it seemed like the year to do it. Our friend, Kim Ross, is quickly approaching 12 years of skiing every month of the year. So, it wasn't hard to convince her to join me as she had not had her September turns. Since the Facets of Winter movie brought us to the Front Range, it seemed appropriate to seek out one of the local snowfields in the area. Kim suggested Skyscraper Glacier (which is actually just a snowfield) and that became our destination. A view of Skyscraper, the larger snow field on the right, from Rollins Pass. [image] The hike to the line was easy and scenic. [image] Photo courtesy of Kim Ross [image] Torrey's, in the distance, was still caked with snow. [image] Photo courtesy of Kim Ross In less than an hour we stood overlooking Skyscraper Glacier. Kim, checking it out. [image] It was good to be on snow again! [image] Photo courtesy of Kim Ross [image] Photo courtesy of Kim Ross Kim dropping in, in true Kim-style, with a skirt. [image] Kim making her September turns. [image] [image] [image] My turn. The snow was pretty good for September turns on last season's snow. [image] Photo courtesy of Kim Ross [image] Photo courtesy of Kim Ross At the bottom of our ski. [image] After our ski the bushwhacking and willow-bashing began and lasted for over an hour. [image] We eventually met back up with the trail and admired other potential ski lines. [image] [image] Another fantastic day out on a fun summer ski with a fabulous friend. Thanks Kim! That wraps up 116 days of skiing for me this season. Hopefully October turns will be wrought with next season's pow! Wool- Layers good for ALL seasons. [image]

Geissler Mountain West South Face Geissler Mountain West has a mix of skiable E-SE-S facing terrain. From the peak it's steeper, with cliffs and high avalanche risk. West of the peak is very rocky with cliffs so your route should be scouted. The saddle on the East side is mellow with a pitch in the mid to upper 20s. Maps *All Mapped Areas are Approximations Trailheads Independence Lake Trailhead *(Summer Only) Independence Pass is closed in the Winter Trip Reports 06/02/2014 - (7 Summits Blog) Websites Backcountry Skiing Colorado SummitPost.org Guide Books Dawson's Guide to Colorado Backcountry Skiing, Volume 1 by Louis W. Dawson[image] Climbing and Skiing Colorado's Mountains: Over 50 Select Ski Descents by Ben Conners & Brian Miller[image] (Links to guidebooks may be affiliate links) Find Nearby Zones *All Mapped Areas are Approximations tagged: Independence Pass, Pitkin County, Sawatch Range

Mount Hope - 13,933 ft. Date: May 3, 2013 Team: Dav, Pete Gaston, Max Taam, Ian Fohrman route: Northeast "Hopeful" Couloir [image] Ian Fohrman drops into the Hopeful Couloir while Max Taam and Pete Gaston look on. After our day on Clinton and a soak at the Mount Princeton Hot Springs, four of us made our way up the Clear Creek Road towards Mount Hope. The road was dry to the Sheep Creek trailhead, and we followed the popular trail (also used in the Leadville 100 run course) up towards the East Ridge of Mount Hope. From the summit, we dropped into the "Hopeful" Couloir to the northeast, skiing it down into the basin to the north of Hope Pass. A short jaunt up and over the pass brought us back to the Sheep Creek side and the route we ascended, and we were soon back at the car. [image] Looking down the gut of the couloir. Twin Lakes and the Mosquito Range lie in the distance. (The map doesn't have the summit correctly marked.) __________________________________________________________________________________________________ Date: May 27, 2006 Team: Christy, Ted Route: Southeast Bowl [image] The map and route up from Clear Creek Road. Our descent largely followed the same route back down the drainage until the snow dried up and we had to walk. [Christy and Ted skied Hope back in 2006. Here's a couple of thoughts from the day.] We waited for Independence Pass to open and then went over to Mount Hope. By this late in spring, Clear Creek Road was snow-free as well, so the whole morning approach was actually pretty easy. After an easy two-hour drive from Aspen we were hiking up the south stretch of the Hope Pass Trail. The route is short and the trail climbs steeply right from the valley floor. Earlier in the season we could have probably skinned and skied right from the car, but this Memorial Day Weekend would only allow us to ski halfway down the valley from the summit, after hiking up the summer trail to treeline. [image] We chose to hike the mostly-dry trail to Hope Pass in hiking boots and then switched to ski boots at the snow. Oxford and Belford can be seen in the distance. We didn't really know it at the time, but there's a more interesting, yet harder to access, couloir that descends the northeast side of the summit. It's in pretty clear view when you drive past Twin Lakes and can be seen on the map above, descending to the little tarn in the basin between Quail and Hope. I think the route may warrant a return trip someday, maybe with Dav when he comes to ski this peak we can give it a closer look. [image] Quail Mountain stands behind as Christy skis the southeast side of Hope. [image]

Organ Mountain 13,808 [image] RT Length: 9 miles Elevation Gain: 3500' My hiking days got switched this week due to mandatory Friday dentist appointments. (Side note: anyone know of a great dentist in Colorado Springs that's open nights and weekends? I love my dentist office but their hours stink!!!). I was willing to give up my hiking day this week for dental hygiene but when I asked my kids what they wanted to do this weekend one was gone and the other wanted to sleep until 4pm (she's a teenager, this is doable for her) but she wanted me to take her to see the school play at 7pm. Woohoo! This gave me a Saturday hiking day, and I could drive further since I didn't need to be home by 3pm. So I changed my schedule and took a nap Friday night and woke up at 11:45pm and drove the 6 hours to the Eddiesville Trailhead in the San Juans. The weather wasn't supposed to be spectacular (0-29* at the summit, with wind chill making it 0 to 10*) but as I was driving down the dirt road my heart sank as the temperature dropped to -5* and held there for a bit. I got excited when it rose to 7* (I know, crazy to be happy about 7* weather) and disappointed again when it went back down to 0* and then held steady again at -5*. With my Raynaud's I was seriously worried a hike wasn't going to happen today: I've never hiked in such cold weather and had my doubts. I���d seen a report from earlier this week stating the trailhead was still open (woohoo!) but that it was icy. Let me tell you, they weren't kidding! I've never experienced this kind of ice before. Granted it was -5* outside, but the dirt road was covered in 2-4 inches of ice and there was no way to gain traction on the road. This is the very first time I've ever experienced my 4WD Tundra slip in the 6+ years I've been driving it on ice and snow. It caught me off guard, but I straightened it out and kept it under 5mph until I reached the trailhead. Those steep hills with tight curves were a killer! I could tell by tire tracks several other vehicles had slid into the drainage on the side of the road in the past few days. There was a pretty good rut going for tires which was nice, but would have made passing another vehicle a nightmare. Here are pics from my drive out. The creek crossing(s) were fun, especially the second one that had a thick layer of ice at 5am I got to break through with my truck: My truck was happy! [image] There were tons of animal tracks along and through the road. Very cool! Hopefully I'd see some wildlife today. I saw some of the biggest white rabbits I've ever seen. Seriously. They reminded me of the jackrabbits we had in Arizona, the ones the size of racoons. I arrived at the trailhead at 5:30am to -5* weather and snow everywhere and a gate preventing me from driving further. [image] I'm still learning about winter condition hiking and where my limits are, so I'd decided before even arriving to give it a try and turn back if needed. I'd driven all this way, hadn't I? I might as well use this as a learning experience, -5* weather or not. So I put my snowshoes on in the truck and bundled up for the cold weather with multiple pairs of gloves, my balaclava, knit hat, etc. I opened the door and was greeted with intensely cold air, but luckily no wind. I took a deep breath: I could do this! (Probably). The trail actually had signs, which was an unexpected treat. [image] I followed the trail through a gate and to the left (southeast) for about 150 yards [image] until I saw this post and turned right. There was supposed to be a trail here, but it was invisible in the snow. [image] My fingers were burning. Seriously burning from the cold. I stopped and took off my felt gloves that were under my mittens and just wore my mittens. My hands were instantly warmer, but I was giving up finger flexibility: I would no longer be able to take off my mittens to actually do stuff (like adjust my snowshoes, take photos, look at my phone/gps, etc). (Another side note: Someone seriously needs to invent better gloves. I need actual gloves with finger casings for dexterity, but unfortunately they don't keep my hands warm enough. I need mittens that have small fingertip holes made with thin weatherproof fabric that retract inside the mitten but you can poke your fingertips through when necessary. Someone please invent these. But I digress... Now that my hands were warm my hike instantly looked more promising, despite the cold weather. The lack of wind below treeline helped too. The trail varied from large amounts of snow to just a little on the trail. It was easier to just keep my snowshoes on, so I did, even when they weren't necessary. [image] As the sun started to rise I got my first good look at Organ Mountain (this isn't the summit). [image] Did I mention the animal tracks? It was obvious no one had been on this trail for quite a while. Well, no one but our 4 legged friends. I saw tiny prints from mice, fox prints, and the biggest rabbit prints I'd ever seen. Oh, and the deer and elk and moose prints were everywhere. This is how I knew they were moose tracks... [image] The animal tracks were super helpful for finding the actual trail. There was a trail here, but it was invisible with all the snow. Luckily the animals knew where it was (mostly). When the animal tracks obviously veered off the trail I just followed the creek. This trail follows the Hondo Creek all the way to treeline, so as long as you parallel the creek you're fine. And check these tracks out! I instantly knew these were mountain lion tracks and got excited! [image] They followed the trail for over a mile and were headed in the same direction I was. I found it fun the lion didn't always stick to the trail, but sometimes hopped onto logs and traversed them seemingly for 'fun' and then jumped back along the trail again. [image] Then all at once the tracks veered off in another direction. I decided to follow them for a bit to see if they paralleled the trail I was on or went another way. While these tracks were hours old (I could tell by traces of elements left by the wind) I still felt it prudent to see which direction the lion had taken so I knew whether or not to be on the lookout. Imagine my surprise when the tracks led me to its den no more than 50 feet off the route I was on! With no tracks leading back out I quickly retraced my steps and continued my hike (sorry, no pictures: I want to keep the kitty safe!). I continued following Hondo Creek until treeline and got a great view of the route before me. [image] My research said to take a route to the right, but to me the left side of the mountain looked easier: Give me quick elevation gain over the long way any day! So, despite my map and trail directions I decided to go up the left (south) face of the mountain. It just seemed safer, especially since avalanche danger is more prominent on the north/east faces right now. Not that there was much snow to worry about. I was worried about the wind. [image] This was a steep climb and would have been easier without the traces of snow, but the rocks were semi stable and I didn't need to worry about causing an avalanche/rockslide below me. I kept my snowshoes on for stability. I was able to gain the ridge in about half an hour and could see the rest of the route before me. This is where the wind picked up (25mph) and took the 0* temperatures to new negative levels. But I was dressed well, and as long as I didn't take off my gloves I was ok. [image] This is the route I took. [image] And looking back down from the ridge at the route from my truck to this point [image] There are several false summits on this mountain. After gaining the ridge I was on a small plateau that gave me a break from elevation gain (here's looking back at the plateau) [image] But there were still two other points to gain [image] I stuck to the drier areas and just followed the ridge up to 13,400' where there was a small rock wall and a lot of wind. It wasn't too steep and as long as I didn't stop I didn't get too cold. [image] [image] From here I dipped down and climbed the approx. 400' to the summit or Organ Mountain. Sorry, but I don't have many pictures from the summit. I couldn't take off my gloves and my DSLR camera was doing that fun thing where it takes 50 seconds to take a picture, and I was, well, FREEZING! That wind was brutal! I got out my cell phone to take a video and it went from 40% battery to 9% and turned itself off before I could even start videoing, let alone take off my gloves to start the process. Great. I'd made it, but my camera(s) hadn't. Here's the one terrible picture I got from the summit before my cameras failed. I summited at 9:28am. [image] I didn't stay long because I was cold and on a mission to get home before 6pm so I could take my daughter to a play tonight, so I turned and booked it back down. When I made it to point 13,400 again the wind died down for a bit and I was able to plug my phone into the solar powered battery charger I'd brought. The phone turned on again, but my route had been lost. I made it to the ridge and had a great view of the way I was supposed to gain the ridge to the plateau but hadn't. No regrets! [image] Time to head back down! (Those tracks aren't mine... I'm guessing Mountain Sheep/Goat) [image] Here's the route I took. I just headed for the basin. Yes, it's steeper than it looks, but the rocks are relatively stable, especially with snowshoes on. [image] I made it back to the basin and followed it back to Hondo Creek. At the top I found the remains of what's most likely an elk/moose, and probably the source of a few of the mountain lions' meals (or had been this past spring/summer: the carcass had been picked pretty dry by this point). It was the right distance away from the lion den to be its food source, and it had been buried at one point. There weren't any tracks here, but I didn't stop to investigate much either. [image] Now I was racing against the clock. Luckily, I had my previous tracks to guide me back down the mountain. Knowing I just needed to follow the creek I took a more expeditious route and stayed to the north of the creek, instead of dropping down into the creek as I had on the way up. This made the trek much faster. As I descended the temperature warmed up and I was much more comfortable. I made it back down to my truck at 12:15pm, still the only vehicle in the lot. This was a 9 mile hike with 3500' of elevation gain completed in approximately 6.5 hours. [image] I immediately changed out of my gear and switched my snow boots to sandals for the drive home. [image] The drive out was much easier than the drive in, but I was more careful as well. There weren't any vehicles parked at any of the trailheads. I passed a truck with a trailer full of wood who didn't seem to mind driving on the snow to get around me, and a large tractor with the biggest tires I'd ever seen wearing chains crunching down the road. And I didn't die from exposure! Woot! [image]

#SkiTheBig3 CONGRATULATIONS Denali Ski Descent TR by Aaron Diamond June 6, 2014 written by Aaron Diamond June 6, 2014 [image] Aaron taking the last few steps to the Denali McKinley summit in the never ending evening light. In this view you're looking south over the Alaska Range. Click image to enlarge. [image] About three weeks ago at the summit of Mount Hunter. From right to left: Jordan, Evan, Aaron, Anton. The trio is the first to climb and ski Mount Hunter, Mount Foraker and Denali during one expedition and the second to ski all three (first was Andrew McLean, who deserves a shout out for coming up with the concept of skiing the Denali Family). Aaron is the first to snowboard all three peaks. This could possibly be the first time all three peaks were climbed during the same expedition as well. Need to verify that; anyone know the answer? Waking up was hard this June 3 morning. I'd had less than six hours of sleep combined in the past three nights. Groggy is an understatement. Nerves had played a part in my lack of shuteye. I'd lost count of the days we'd been camped at 14,200 feet on Denali waiting for a weather window - blue sky that seemed to always be coming the next day. Of course when we woke up the next day and unzipped the tent door, clouds or winds would say "not today boys." Yes, the mountain speaks, you don't have to like what it says - but you'd better listen! Today was no different. At 6 am, Evan (our morning person) woke up to clear skies and huge plumes of snow blowing off everything above camp. About an hour later the rest of the team was awake looking at the same thing. Our forecaster Joel Gratz (Joel is a huge part of the success of the trip. While the NPS has been botching the forecast Joel has been spot on. If you're looking for great weather info check out www.opensnow.com) Joel had told us that today, Wednesday, and Thursday looked like good summit days. We decided to wait it out for an hour before heading up the fixed lines. Worst case scenario: Joel's wrong and it's another acclimatization day. We skinned up the ski hill toward the fixed lines, passing a few guided groups making the move to 17k, and found ourselves behind three unguided climbers trying to figure out their ascenders (a situation our group is not immune from, see previous post). To make the pass we switched to the downclimbing rope for a short bit, then crossed back to the upclimb rope. You can do that when the crowds have dissipated. We reached the top of the lines and continued up the ridge around the massive rock that is Washburn's Thumb and towards the high camp at 17,000ft. The climbing on the ridge is similar to the ridge between Crosson and Foraker except without the glaciation and with more knife edge. Like prodding lions at the zoo, the fun factor is high while the chance of major issue is low. Arriving at the windswept plateau that is 17k camp around 2:00 we found our timing was working perfectly. An hour before, nobody could leave their tents because of high winds. We ran into our friends Matt, Bean, and Marc, otherwise known as the "Coloradbros." We had made plans to avoid a long sloping traverse to Denali Pass known as the Autobahn to allow more fall line skiing was well as spare me a long, icy, heel-side traverse on my snowboard. Instead we would climb the face above the Autobahn and eventually rejoin the West Buttress route by gaining the climbers left ridge and traversing over it. The Coloradbros joined us in the plan and were nice enough to put in the staircase booter to about 18,600 feet, where we finally caught up with them. After a short food and water break we crossed over the ridge and quickly regained the wanded highway formally known as the West Buttress. I set a slow pace as we gained elevation crossing over the top of classic ski routes such as the Messner Couloir and Orient Express (unfortunately those lines were not in condition today). Breezy winds combined with sub-zero temps forced the entire team into their down jackets as we 3-count rest stepped around Arch Deacons tower and onto the Football Field at 19,500ft. At 19,500ft I fell apart while Anton and the rest of the team seemingly found the second (third, fourth?) wind. They raced up the 600 foot Pig Hill while I struggled with a headache and shortness of breath whenever I sped up my 3 count rest step. This was a new altitude high for me and clearly I had not done my acclimatization homework. At the top of Pig Hill (see our detail map below)I rejoined the group and we stared down our final obstacle between us and the summit of Denali, a heavily corniced ridge with the added difficulty of being at 20,000 ft. Luckily, this is the most popular summit in the Alaska Range and old tracks, wands, fixed pickets, and other climbers everywhere make the ridge a straightforward route to the 20,320 summit. We embraced each other on the summit. Half in shock at our success, half in pure happiness we took in the sights of the entire Alaska Range, the Talkeetna area and the North Slope. [image] Denali summit USGS monument. It's an understatement expressing we were all quite happy to see this in person! Click to enlarge. Slowly, but as quickly as possible, we transitioned from crampons to skis and snowboards and made our way down the classic ski route from the summit block to the Football Field. Right before we skied off, the Coloradbros joined us on the summit. Matt snapped us a summit photo (thanks!) and we were off. Conditions ranged from white ice to cold, sticky, breakable sastrugi. Our wasted condition paired with the extremely difficult snow made for a poor downhill showing for the couple of climbers making their way across the Football Field. A short sidestep brought us to a rolling pitch with similar snow conditions as the summit pyramid. Quickly we found ourselves at the top of the Autobahn Face. Conditions were still variable but much improved over the West Buttress proper. Two thousand feet of fall line skiing brought us to the low spot below 17 Camp. We cramponed back through a much more crowded camp than when we left, and headed back down Washburn Ridge. We descended the fixed lines and transitioned back to skis as the sun passed below the horizon, illuminating Hunter and Foraker in bright red alpenglow. Midnight boot deep powder skiing ushered us back to the tents, and warm sleeping bags. (Editor's note: Due to time constraints the crew is planning on providing photos once they're back in civilization. Autobahn Face is the area above what's labeled as "Autobahn" on the map below. It's a nice ski line that's much more direct than circling around on the standard climbing route.) [image] Details [image] Map showing routes of Ski The Big Three; note 11,000-foot camp on Denali route. Autobahn Face variation is not marked on this map. Click to enlarge. ('Ski The Big 3 is an Alaskan ski mountaineering expedition cooked up by four deprived (or perhaps depraved?) guys who never get enough ski and snowboard alpinism. Aaron Diamond, Evan Pletcher, Anton Sponar, Jordan White. The idea is to ski Denali, Mount Foraker, and Mount Hunter all during one expedition.)

Finally skiing Mt Rainier's Edmunds Headwall 3 July 2009 [image] The Mowich Face from Mowich Lake Road. Mouseover to see our route. Liberty Ridge, Ptarmigan Ridge, Mowich Face, Sunset Ridge: They may no longer be day-altering highlights of walks across Red Square at University of Washington for me, but indelible impressions from all of them remain scratched onto the cornea of my mind's eye: bewitched and working wizardry on the Central Ice Express, twenty-four-hour days chasing a dream, over the top and into the Sunset, an epic climb followed by a more epic, benighted downclimb. Downclimbing the Edmunds Headwall remained a bit of a thorn in my side; only my skis could serve as tweezers, sliding down that face in graceful arcs, a carved catharsis. Now that I live in Vancouver, BC, it seems like a good time to change the Washington silhouette next to the SkiSickness logo at the bottom of the page. The outline of BC doesn't seem as striking. Maybe this can be the last trip report with the WA, since this is already about closure on the NW side of the great grand volcan And I wish Ryan and Dan would quit calling it the west side; Mowich Face is a logarithmic leap in radness from the Tahoma Glacier. Work was too hectic for me to take advantage of the immaculate weather that ended May. I've been patiently waiting for the next heat wave. The forecast was perfect from Canada Day through Independence Day. I was hoping that the unstable weather, which persisted through most of June, left some fresh snow on the upper Mowich Face. That didn't seem to be the case, but it didn't stop us either. The glacier and the face up to 12k were both in excellent condition. I was contacting all the competent fellas I knew for this trip, because usually only one or two (or none) are able to join the mission. This time there was a convergence. Dave B, fitness buff and all-around hoss from Laramie, joined us but had to cut his trip short because he hadn't allotted enough time to get the line and make a reasonable exit. Another case of unemployment being wasted on the unemployed. [image] Sunset from our camp. Take a look at the holes in the ridge. [image] Sunset on the Mowich Face from lower Ptarmigan Ridge So we lost Dave B. It was just Wehrly and me. And the two salty old dogs had an uncharacteristic bout with maturity and reason: we saw the condition of the face, knew that the upper portion was neither ideal nor a "gimme," and decided to take an easy second approach-and-rest day so that we'd be ready to send it. We took our time crossing the North Mowich Glacier and found an exquisite place to camp between the North Mowich and Edmunds Glaciers, situated two thousand feet of beautiful fall line below the Edmunds Headwall bergschrund. Then we spent the afternoon napping, eating, and enjoying the views. It's not traditionally the way I've operated, but there sure is something to be said for it. More free time please! The leisurely approach allows more time to concentrate on photographic efforts, too. [image] Wehrly crosses the North Mowich Glacier with the Great Choss Barrier of Ptarmigan Ridge behind him. The only interruption to our afternoon siestas was the arrival of Dan and Ryan. We were impressed with their approach effort. Less ambitious goals were discarded for a no-holds barred group summit siege. We debated when to start. Earlier avoids rockfall? Daylight is nice. It's always cold atop Rainier and nobody wants a little chill to force them to ski before the snow is ready. The bergschrund crossing was easy. The snow below the face and just above the bergschrund was mostly free of debris, a pleasant surprise. The snow up the face was mostly perfect frozen corn with ice lurking below the surface in patches. Above 12k the ice became more gregarious. The first rays from the sun mingled with the icy steep slopes near the high point on Sunset Ridge. [image] Wehrly climbs near 12.5k with Ryan below him. We took a break on the flat spot atop Sunset Ridge circa 12.5k. Our break could have been longer, but it was tough for me to sit there and relax. The crux of our ascent was just before us and the breeze was getting chilly for this skinny guy. [image] Helmstadter opts for the ice. Climbing the chute on the climber's right side of the top of the Mowich Face was a blast. The gut of the chute consisted of 50°ish ice. The east side of the chute against the rocks featured small accumulations of snow, with much larger amounts of steeper, chunky snow here and there against the rocks. The steep bulges of consolidated snow against the rocks were really fun to climb, like an alpine jungle gym atop the Mowich Face. I was elated. It's always gratifying to reach the top of Liberty Cap from one of the many big routes that flank it. I was particularly inspired by one of Lady Gaga's brilliant hits, so after scaling another bulge, I'd yell to them from atop a nice rocky perch, "Discostick!" After reaching the gentle, rolling ridge toward Liberty Cap at 13,300 ft, I discarded my ice axes and switched to slog mode. Having dealt with the infernal gentle rolls several times, I was adequately prepared for delayed summit gratification. One, two, three, four: finally all together on Liberty Cap, I was getting cold again. I can be rather impatient. Maybe I should buy a bigger puffy. We saw a party of eight (!) ski from Columbia Crest. They skied to the saddle then toward the Winthrop Glacier. I was afraid they would come to Liberty Cap for a moment. We all joked about how we would trundle them if they tried to follow us down the Mowich Face. Maybe Ryan didn't joke about that; he's too nice. LOLZ. Now for select photographs! The memories will never fade, but solo ski descents of Central Mowich Face and Sunset Ridge left me with nothing to ogle. Wehrly to the rescue.... [image] Let's have some fun this face is sick... [image] ...I want to carve it up with my RippingSticks. Merci buku, brah! I skied the top bits first and, for one short moment, put myself in a precarious position on steep ice. I was able to find softer snow after shuffling over a rib in reverse; I had gone for the gut too soon. When the others asked, I recommended downclimbing, but continued to ski myself. The snow clinging to the side of the chute was actually very nice. A very short downclimb led to another break at the flat spot atop Edmunds Headwall and Sunset Ridge. There was a debate about whether more direct sun would soften the ice on the steep section just below us. I did a little downclimbing while the others were resting to scout the ice. I found that we could avoid some of it, until we couldn't. I was also convinced that the ice wouldn't soften. Between an intermittent breeze to make my skinny ass cold and my general impatience, I was soon champing at the bit to ski. I wanted to get the last crux behind us; I knew that the ice was manageable even if it would require some ugly sidestepping; plus a lot of steep, velvety corn was waiting to be carved. Dan and Ryan thought the ice might soften and chose to wait a little longer. Eric and I waited for them just below the steepest slopes where the snow softened. Conditions apparently didn't improve; Ryan even chose to switch to crampons for the last bit. But soon enough we were all together again. From 12k to the bergschrund, the snow was perfect. In the midst of continuously linking fast turns for about 1,000 feet on a 45° slope, my mind became a blank slate. Even the most basic mechanics of the turns disappeared. The large cliff down the fall line no longer mattered. Fully engaged, living life, linking turns: this is my most religious experience. [image] Wehrly, [image] skiing toward nirvana [image] Lurie, [image] skiing toward nirvana [image] The man, the myth, the legend: Helmstadter. An elusive beast, solitary by nature, captured in its natural habitat. Dan wanted a Central Mowich experience. Ryan needed to get home to work, but wanted to rest, so we spent another night there between the Edmunds and North Mowich Glaciers. I'm glad we did. Note to self: if Ryan ever offers to feed you, check that he has food. Thanks for a great trip, fellas! Would I do anything differently? My long-term shopping list now includes a big puffy down jacket. So I'll have one less excuse for my impatience, I guess. I still don't think that snow would've softened. Besides, who needs soft snow? We're Washington skiers.

Friday, June 29, 2012 Denali Part 4: Messner Avalanche We made camp at Camp 4 (14,000 ft) on June 6, 2012. And then we hung out at Camp 4 until June 15, 2012 while we waited for a weather window. When we arrived at Camp 4, we were optimistic and believed that we would be able to ski lines like the Messner Couloir, the Orient Express, and Rescue Gully. We didn't anticipate that we'd get snowed on for 8 days, straight. While hanging out at Camp 4, we actually had quite a bit of fun. Two of the funner moments occurred when the Messner let go. On June 8, 2012, the Messner unloaded, dusting the camp. The June 8 avalanche exposed a nice layer of blue ice in and around the Messner. Then the real storms came. On June 12, 2012, the Messner unloaded again. I took this video; here is what it looked like: [video] Of course, this wasn't the only activity on the mountain. The Valley of Death, below Camp 4 was constantly rumbling. There were a couple times while lying in my tent where I caught myself holding my breath, hoping that the rumbling wouldn't come any closer. I laid in my tent playing Jet or Avalanche--guessing whether the sounds outside were caused by a jet or an Alaska-sized avalanche. I still think skiing the Messner would be really cool. It's just that while I was there, and given the conditions, I didn't think it was worth it. Check out this guy's adventure in the Messner on June 16, 2012 (Aaron and I flew off the mountain on June 16, 2012): [video] Posted by Jared at 9:47 AM

South Camp Peak, Tahoe Rim Trail - Day 11 Aug 1, '14 · by Denise · in On Adventures [image] Click for Map Beginning June 25, 2014 I thru-hiked the Tahoe Rim Trail (TRT), circling Lake Tahoe in 12 days. Accompanied by my friend and fellow blogger, Trails, we bravely took on this 165+ mile loop. I will be blogging a day-by-day rundown of each day's hike, night's campsite, and my contemplations while beating down miles. Check out my complete trip report for the TRT here - This is day 11. Last full day on the Tahoe Rim Trail - Crazy, right?! It seemed like just a few days and couple baby toe blisters ago that I had just started. Time flies when you are having fun... or slowly convincing your body that it CAN make 165+ miles. The number one thing I "learned" (re-learned?) on this trip is how much a hiking routine helps to get the miles done whilst remaining sane. I mentioned the game plan of getting up early & dealing with blisters in the evening at camp, but both of those were part of a larger daily routine Trails and I adopted. Our routine was not super uptight, but allowed us to streamline some tasks and make sure we were always on the same page. For example we discussed when / where we were hiking to every night, generally had an idea of when we would arrive at camp each night, we knew who was going to do what in camp, and most importantly we always kept tabs on the water the situation on the trail (when, where, how much we could find). When the boys arrived to hike and mountain bike with us they were a welcome disruption to our routine... most of the time. (Jk, jk, they brought us food & wine - what would we have done without our friends!?) But more troublesome then trying to plan with both hikers and mountain bikers is a dealing with an unexpected disruption placed there by nature/fate/poor luck. This was Spooner Lake, our last water source before a final few miles on the trail. [image] Spooner Lake is a mucky lake, located a half mile off trail from the Rim Trail. It is a beast to filter, especially after your filter has been through the ringer on the rest of this silty trail, and tastes like Attack of the Swamp Creatures. Also if you need to scoop out water you need to wade into muck, which is potentially filled with leeches btw, to try and reach a slightly clearer water. Then if after all that you think that there are water pumps available in a parking lot down the way... guess what? All of them are broken. All told it took us well over an hour to filter enough water for all 6 of us and afterwards we still had to hike 5+ miles to camp. It made for a long day, but after it was all said and done we did drag into our planned campsite. Yes it was difficult and annoying, and that water tasted really terrible, but it despite that we earned the most amazing private sunset over Lake Tahoe. Worth it. [image] Sunset over Lake Tahoe from South Camp Peak, you can see Emerald Bay where those suckers all probably all camping on top of one another. Thru-hiking the TRT From Marlette Peak Camp to a dry camp @ South Camp Peak Tahoe Mileage: 15.1 Miles. 650 ft elevation gain to Snow Peak first thing in the morning, then a 1800 ft descent to Spooner lake where we grabbed water and lugged it back up ~1700 ft to dry camp. Water Sources: No water on the TRT after Marlette Peak Camp. We hiked a half mile down to Spooner Lake to refill water. Spooner Lake is a silty algae filled mess but the water pumps in the parking lot were out of order. We ended up spending 90 min filtering water then ending up with the WORST tasting swamp water of the whole trip to haul up to dry camp. We started at 9:30 after sleeping in after our "late night" firework watching. Leaving from Marlette Camp us hikers continued down the TRT up to Snow Valley Peak and the bikers had to take an alternate route down the Tunnel Creek and North Canyon Trail (No bikes allowed on the Snow Valley section of the TRT). Snow Valley peak is very beautiful stretch of trail with amazing views of Marlette Lake and Lake Tahoe, I would recommend it for a TRT day hike. [image] Snacking on the TRT, just beyond Snow Valley Peak [image] View of Marlette Lake and Lake Tahoe as we hiked towards Snow Valley Peak After descending to the Spooner Lake intersection we met up with the guys to start our water filtering saga. The half mile access trail between the TRT and Spooner Lake requires a $1 use fee per person and, to our surprise, had a "no bikes" sign posted. After talking with some locals we found out that the trail had previously been open to bikes and this was a recent change. Because this was our only route to have the bikers join us on the TRT we all agreed that walking the bikes would have to be alright. I don't think anyone minded? The final stretch of day 11's hike started across busy Hwy 50 to our planed day hike. It was a rough hike up carrying extra water for camp and day 12. I am glad we only dry camped once. After a couple finally pushes we arrived at our campsite just off of the TRT next to South Camp Peak. We didn't see any obvious tent spots, instead choosing to set up camp among the sagebrush with a wonderful view of Lake Tahoe and the Desolation Wilderness behind it. It is crazy that it had been 6 days since I was there in the Desolation and the next day I would be back to were I started the TRT. This was a great last camp spot, allowing us visually trace around our route and remember some of our favorite places along the trail. More pictures of day 11's hike and campsite on the TRT in the gallery below. Continue on to day 12 or find links to all my TRT blog posts in my Tahoe Rim Trail Trip Report. [image] [image] [image] [image] [image] [image] [image] [image] [image] [image] [image] [image] [image] [image] [image] [image] [image]

McCauley Mountain Hike Posted on August 11, 2022 by Robert During the winter months, McCauley is the center of the Old Forge community. The mountain is always busy with after school programs, live music and a variety of food specials in the lodge. It was a much different case a few weekends ago when Farah and I decided to hike the mountain. [image] Overgrown grass and a lack of cars in the parking lot may convince the unknowing that the resort is abandoned. Upon closer inspection though you'll see the well-maintained and used mountain bike trails. The light construction at the base area is also a tip off that the biggest little mountain isn't dead, just hibernating until winter. Farah and I pulled into the empty parking lot a little after 6pm on a hot and muggy summer day. After spending the day on the Fulton Chain of lakes, we wanted to finish our day with a hike. We've done all the mountains around the Old Forge area and wanted to try something fresh. [image] Neither of us have hiked a ski resort in the summer so we thought it might be cool to check out one of our favorite slopes. Technically we hiked the Maple Ridge trail which starts in town, but we took a shortcut and started at the Lodge. We parked at the starting point for the mountain bike trails, and there were a bunch of obstacles for the bikers to play around. The set up looked fun, I started thinking about pulling my bike out of the basement while we began our hike. We started our hike walking past the lodge and under the beautiful Hall Double. From there we were supposed to take the green trail Challenger, but I accidentally took the utility trail further left. About half way up I realized my mistake but we knew the trail would connect back so we continued on. The hike was moderate but the flies were challenging. We fought our way through and got back on the main trail to the opening which was bug free. [image] We approached the headwall of God's Land, and went across the Challenger cat track. The mountain had laid out Adirondack chairs across the peak under the double. We posted up in the chairs and soaked it all in. The view was phenomenal and I never realized there was a lake right behind the lodge. I think of all the views near around Old Forge this may be the best. After a while we headed to the viewing platform and played around with the binoculars. We watched boats lazily cross the lakes as the sun began to set. Content with our hike and tired of fighting off the bugs, we started to make our way down. We never saw another person on the hike and the quietness of the mountain was surreal. Hiking up McCaulay in the summer gave me an appreciation for the slopes we ski in the winter. A green is a lot steeper than you think it is, when you're hiking up!

Jim Green Hiking Trail in Atascadero Whenever I visit a new town, I always try to see the outdoorsy side of the town. I did this in Atascadero by going out on its most popular trail (the Jim Green Trail), a short, dog-friendly hike that takes you through oak groves as you hike a small hill and see some great views. Here is all the information so you can do it yourself. [image] Details 1.7 Miles 100 feet of elevation Dog friendly A small dirt parking lot This information is from my visit in 2016 Getting There [image] The parking lot for Jim Green Trail is located at the end of Cortez Ave. There is a small dirt parking lot right at the end of the street, where you can park. The Hike [image] The hike starts from the lot and walks along the fence, right across from the train tracks. Watch out for rattlesnakes as they can be prevalent on this trail. I would recommend keeping your dog on a leash. [image] The trail is straightforward to follow, and within the first tenth of a mile, you will see a split. It doesn't matter which way you go as it is a loop trail and you will come back the other way. I headed to the right. [image] The path from here leads into the oak groves and becomes a more shaded walk, which provides a nice escape from the sun. [image] These trees are beautiful as they have hanging moss coming off of the different branches, and it reminds me of something you would see in the South. [image] The trail heads up, and you will be gaining a bit of elevation as you start to get your heart pumping a little. [image] You will continue the same way for the rest of the trail. It is relatively shaded most of the way, and it heads up and down as it loops around the small hill. [image] On the backside of the trail, you will be overlooking the golf course, which is not as picturesque as the other parts of the trial. [image] It also looks over water, which provides a pretty view through the trees. I had a hard time figuring out what the water was for, so please let me know in the comments. Update - Marco, in the comments, let me know it was a sewage recycling area, so don't go swimming! [image] The trail then wraps up by winding back around and meeting with the original split from the start of the trail. All in all, this is a beautiful spot in the city of Atascadero. I was surprised by how much I liked this trail as I had relatively low expectations heading in. It was a gorgeous and easy hike that I highly recommend for a nice way to get your blood pumping in the morning. Let me know if you have been and what you thought in the comment.

Sunday Acclimation Climb and Ski by Lou Dawson June 8, 2010 written by Lou Dawson June 8, 2010 [image] [image] Tyler starts the Headwall. We were frankly amazed at how well this powder was bonding to blue ice a short distance underneath. Cold night last night here at 14,200 feet on Denali, about 10 below zero by my reckoning. That was about the limit of my sleeping bag, even with my parka thrown over the top. Then the sun comes up and you roast, as we did today while doing an acclimation climb up the 'Headwall' section of the West Buttress to 16,200 feet. The Headwall is known as the steepest section of the classic route, with one bulge that hits just over 45 degrees. It's usually too icy to ski, and normally equipped with fixed ropes for a few hundred vertical feet. [image] Wide angle view of Denali West Buttress section above 14,200 foot camp. Arrow indicates Headwall. Unfortunately we got caught in a traffic jam on the fixed lines and took two hours to do what normally would have taken 1/2 hour. It appeared to be too icy to forego the fixed lines without two ice tools each. Even so, once at the top the boys turned around and skied it, while I opted for a quick boot descent back to the base of the fixed lines, then skied from there. Once the first couple of guys skied there was a lot of blue ice showing, so using the ropes was probably a good decision. The guys are feeling good and planning on more adventures tomorrow. I'm opting for a rest day to make sure I don't weaken when the big day comes. That said, way back in the beginnings of WildSnow Denali I shared with many individuals that I'd be happy just to get to the 14,200 foot camp and blog the trip from there. Well, now I've been past that goal so the rest is gravy - though skiing from the summit with Louie is of course still the ultimate goal. [image] On the fixed lines, we were in the frustrating caboose position in a traffic jam of about 20 people. Since this occurred at around 16,000 feet elevation, it was good acclimatization if not an exercise in patience which some of us passed and others perhaps failed. [image] Another view from the caboose. Lesson learned, we'll be more careful with our timing next time. Big event of this evening was when our food begging yielded a harvest of popcorn and butter (for variety and more calories we've been getting food from groups who are done with their expeditions and headed down.) [image] At 14,200 feet, There Are Strange Things Done 'Neath the 'nali Sun...actually, that's Ty and Colby talking to mom on the satphone. Thanks everyone for visiting WildSnow and checking out our Denali adventures. If I do take a rest day tomorrow, I'll file a few more posts.

Skiing Humphreys Peak - Arizona's High Point May 3, 2018 admin Skiing Doko'o'osliid: A suprising palace of snow above the Grand Canyon: Floating downward on excellent April powder I felt the solitude of an amazing wilderness that flowed from the Grand Canyon to the north side of the San Francisco Peaks. Arizona had the best snow conditions I'd encountered anywhere in the Skiing States project. It was a good normal snow year in 2016 for Humphrey's Peak (Doko'o'osliid in Navajo). I'd been eying Humphreys since 2008 when I first flew over it on a flight to Vegas. [image] The Kachina Peaks Wilderness, an island of green and snow in the vast Arizona desert. Island of snow in the sky: Doko'o'osliid is part of the San Francisco Peaks, aka The Kachina Peaks. This cluster of peaks over 11,000' contain a lot of ski lines and a beautiful wilderness area which comparatively few people visit in the winter. The peaks are completely surrounded by desert on all sides and are not connected to any ranges. The approaches can be long as key access roads are gated in the winter, but there be heavenly powder up there! The peaks sit within Coconino National Forest just to the north of Flagstaff. To the east of the peaks is Sunset Crater and cluster of volcanos that last erupted only 1000 years ago and could reawaken at any time. One of the four sacred peaks: Doko'o'osliid is one of proper names for Humphrey's Peak and it is one of the four primary sacred peaks in Navajo culture. The peak is also important for the Hopi. For the Navajo four sacred peaks are spaced out around the Navajo territory with Sisnaajini (Blanca Peak, CO), Tsoodzil (Mt. Talyor, NM) and Dibe Ntsaa (Hesperus Mtn, CO). These peaks are a part of the Navajo creation story. When you are on this lone volcano surrounded by vast landscapes you can understand how this peak is special. [image] Passing through Monument Valley. Forrest Gump, 2001 a Space Odyssey, Thelma and Louise, Transformers and many other films were shot here, some at exactly this spot. To Arizona and California: In many movies you see road trips through the desert towers of Monument Valley, this of course is contrived because it's not really on any major East-West routes. My trip actually did go through Monument Valley's red sandstone towers as a natural driving route. [image] Passing the "Mexican Hat" along the way to Arizona. Yes, there are climbing routes on it. [image] A pony on the Navajo Reservation on the other side of Monument Valley. Very little beta, discovering the line: Most people ski the peak from the Arizona Snow Bowl as it's the shortest approach, however it's a contrived line and I was looking for a more natural ski line. Normally I ski the state high points from the traditional first descent lines, but in this case the first descent from summit is unknown so I was not tied to any line. [image] A full day of scouting the peak from all sides showed where was the best coverage, these two lines here on the East were not in good condition at the time. I spent more than a full day circling the mountains 360 degrees by car to get beta on the peak. I know the southwestern peaks get large bare sections so you want to pick the line with the best coverage. There was no good info on any website about ski lines for the peak in 2016, and locals probably liked it that way. Flagstaff is no Boulder or Jackson. While it may be a college town with people who love the outdoors, Arizona is no magnet for backcountry skiers and splitboarders. There is a very small community of backcountry skiers there and some have published rough videos on lines close to the Snowbowl, or trip reports with photos. There is enough skiers there to have a Kachina Peaks Avalanche Center website though (link at the end of article). There was not enough material for me to feel satisfied and I wanted to get to know the peak better, so there was an exciting feeling of discovery. [image] The massive avalanche of 2005 cleaned out most of the streambed, even here, far from the slides above. Now its an easy skin up this valley. Abineau Canyon: Late March snowstorms had whacked the mountain and I skinned up through fresh snow until I finally reached the impressive finger of destruction caused by a single massive avalanche in 2005. I loved how this had opened up the streambed and made for more efficient skinning and views of the bowl ahead. I didn't have firm plan as to which route to go up and the great visibility below the slide paths allowed me to pick a way up using strips of forest between gullies. [image] The best snow I've encountered on any of the snowy state high point trips. [image]The route choice would prove great for skiing, but not good for reaching the summit. I was clearly hitting the best snow of the peak here in this NE face, but the top section was a horrible steep boot pack through soft snow. The ski down was amazing for many reasons. Being on the north side of the peak you are alone in a great western wilderness. It was a lot of driving on rough dirt roads just to reach the trailhead alone, so there is a feeling of remoteness being way up in there. Also you get a view north to the Grand Canyon over the Kaibab National Forest. Every single trip report I'd seen always talked about skiing the peak via the rocky ridge leading up from the south at the AZ Snow Bowl. This approach from the north is different. It is aesthetic and natural without dealing with the loud music from the tourists who park at the ski area just to get a look at snow, or seeing man-made ski trails, towers and cables along the ascent. The experience of skiing the gullies late season when the snow was safe, under dry SW powder in a great wilderness was incredible. There are of course many other great lines to ski in these peaks, so it would be nice to return some day. If you love these kind of peaks which are islands of snow surrounded by desert I'm sure you will have a great time there too. [image] Avalanche zones, also an indication of how much skiing there is here besides just Humphreys and the AZ Snowbowl. Image from the Kachina Peaks Avalanche Center. MOUNTAIN FACTS: Names: Humphreys Peak. Nuva'tuk-iya-ovi (Place of High Snows) - Hopi, Dook'o'oslid (Shining on Top) or Diichili Dzil (Abalone Shell Mountain) - Navajo Land: Coconino National Forest Elevation: 12635' (3852m) Vertical: 4235' from the north, 3250' from the Snow Bowl side Access: Park at the ski area, or for other approaches use forest roads which encircle the peak, 8"+ clearance required. Be aware that landowners appear to be illegally locking gates on the West side (US Rt. 180) so you may have to drive in from the east side of the peaks, which adds considerable mileage. Gates were open when I was there, but I'm not sure if those gates are closed in mid winter. Red tape: Camping permits are required even in winter, see the link in the Links section below. Conservation issues: There is plenty of anti-public lands sentiment in Arizona which is a major threat to all natural areas left in the state. US Congressman Paul Gosar from Western AZ has introduced bills which would allow for oil drilling and mining inside National Parks - few congressman have been this boldly anti-public lands. Most AZ state politicians are nothing but Koch puppets who represent the extraction and ranching industry. Another minority block of control (democrat) sits with tribal-elected representatives. Arizona along with Utah and Idaho are strongholds for Super PACs which are focused on destruction of the last blocks of wilderness in the West for both corporate profits. A tradition of crass extractionism goes back 100+ years and is the reason why even gems such as the Grand Canyon were almost destroyed by mining and other interests. [image] Be aware landowners on the west side were illegally blocking access to the public forest roads via a locked gate off of US route 180, treating public land as their own private kingdom. Approach of the eastern access if you have to. The most commonly skied line is the two gullies on the right side of the photo here on the west side of the peak. They are accessed from the ski area normally. The fact is that Arizona "public" and tribal lands have been under attack since Brigadier General Andrew Atkinson Humphreys interpreted survey data from the Arizona region in the 1800's. So naming the peak "Humphrey's Peak" is a small act of imperialism to erase the culture of the Hopi and Navajo. The name should be changed as we did in South Dakota, where "Harney Peak", was changed to Black Elk Peak. Len Necefer, a Dine (Navajo) skier talks about Arizona, backcountry skiing and land issues related in the first video of several by Treasured Heights. Some of my footage of skiing Arizona's highest peak is used in the broll while he speaks: [image] Bring a bow saw or chainsaw if you expect to depend on long forest roads in the Coconino or other National Forests. I also carry sturdy steel dirt shovels for getting out of bad spots. I've had trees fall after I'd passed, so it was necessary to cut them to get back out. AVY RESOURCES: Don't expect extensive coverage of Arizona's snowy ranges like you can see in the Sierras or Colorado, however thankfully there is the Kachina Peaks Avalanche Center > VIDEOS: Several videos are in production on this peak. The first is embedded above. To check if newer videos have been uploaded just check the Treasured Heights YouTube Channel. LINKS: Backcountry permits: https://www.fs.usda.gov/main/coconino/passes-permits

August 31, 2017October 23, 2017 CDT Leadore to Darby: Steep Ridges and the Burning Bitterroots [image]The long and serpentine path thru southern Montana has taken us to the farthest west section of the entire Continental Divide in the United States. We are in Darby, Montana, deep in the Bitterroot Mountains. In a few days it will be September, the legitimate start of autumn. Smoke fills the air in all direction: Montana is burning. We are tired and a bit wounded. But we've come so far, almost 2,500 miles, and there are barely 500 miles left - maybe 20 to 25 days. So far away, so close. [image][image]The route from Leadore to here was as rough as we've seen. As has been the case since we entered Montana/Idaho, the trail follows the ridgeline of the divide. Switchbacks don't exist. It's essentially like hiking up the Ambush face at Eldora (and then down) over and over, every day. Because we're on a ridge, water is very limited, necessitating heavy carries. The air resembles something out of the Hunger Games, smoke filled, blood red sunrises and sunsets, a constant haze. To add to the fun, a heat wave has smacked the northern Rockies, creating the perfect concoction of suffering, itchy eyes, scratchy throats and sweat. This isn't the Shire...it's more like Mordor.[image][image]When Lewis and Clark came through here in 1805, the whole expedition almost failed. They were tired, they couldn't find the way and they did not have the necessary supplies until the Nez Perce gave them horses to continue on to the Pacific. As we filled up our water at the distant spring on Lemhi Pass, 25 miles into this stretch, exactly where Meriwether Lewis did 202 years earlier, we couldn't help but feel a kindred spirit of adventure. When I was 12 or 13, my mom checked out from the library the entire seven volume collection of the Lewis and Cark journals. I was fascinated and read the entire thing, spelling mistakes and all, cover-to-cover. It had an major impact on me and is a factor why we're here.[image][image][image]As we headed north, we entered true forest. The grassy hills of Lima went away, replaced by ever-thickening forest. The trail crossed high, talus filled passes with snow and dropped into deep river valleys, down to 5,800 feet, where the vegetation turned lush. Blueberry bushes were a constant distraction, and since we were moving slower than normal thanks to injury, they provided some valuable sustanence as food supplies grew short by the end of the ration. We saw a mother black bear and three cubs clambering up the talus looking for berries. Elk often crashed through the forest, already leery of the upcoming hunting season. We saw more wildlife in this section than we have anywhere since the San Juans. [image][image][image]I had my first bout with injury in this 123 mile section to Darby. With the exception of a few nagging annoyances, I've stayed heathy on this journey, but on the second day out of Leadore, on a day with a 20 mile water carry, a near full ration and 7,000 feet of steep climbing and 6,000 of descending, I got a twinge on the outside of my ankle, a strain of a tendon or ligament. The body finally barked back. It got worse the next day and kind of stayed that way. It's not torn or ruptured, it's just tendinitis, so hiking in pain becomes something I have to manage for a bit. [image][image]Pain is an interesting thing. Dwell on the issue, and it can overwhelm you. But with the power of mental distraction, it's not hard to continue on. Five percent of the body hurts. Meanwhile, 95 percent of the body is well. A wolf with a leg shattered in a trap can still function fine with three legs. Focus on what is right - almost everything - and the pain becomes a dull, distant thing. Of course working through injury that can do more damage is not good, but this is not the case here. Sometimes I think injury is just another excuse to quit, to fail, to distract. But it can provide the opportunity to get stronger mentally. [image]The section also took a toll on the camera. An errant pack lower, and the lens got bonked and broke on a piece of talus. Little things like this are more frustrating out here than normal because it's just another thing to deal with. But, as has often been the case, our support network came to the rescue, Elaine's dad shipping out our replacement that will arrive at our next re-supply. Between her parents, her grandfather sending out our re-supply boxes with little surprises, my mom sending treats like spiced salami, cheese, Scottish chocolate, tortellini and all sorts of amazing items and, well, we're exceptionally well supplied and blessed. [image]This is the hardest part of the trail. But just when you need it most, the trail provides. We staggered to the end, a half-day slower than we'd hoped, and were looking at a resupply in Sula, a "town" that is essentially a gas station. It's not really a great place to recover. As we walked down Chief Joseph Pass (there is an amazing nordic center on top of the pass), a gentleman named Curtis picked us up. Turns out, Curtis is an avid bikepacker who opens his home to human powered travelers. We had homemade soup and a sampling or 20 types of mead for dinner. It's exactly what two struggling hikers getting our butts kicked by the Montana/Idaho border need. [image]Tomorrow, we hope to move into the Anaconda/Pinter Wilderness. We'll see. At the US Forest Service Office in Darby we got vague warnings that part of the trail ahead could close. Montana is burning more than ever, and the heat wave is settling in. Last night was filled with lightning, little rain and 50 mph winds so the situation will probably be worse in the morning. We're praying for that first cold front with 3-4 inches of wet snow to help get control of the fires but it's not in the forecast. [image]As Lewis wrote in his journals when he arrived at Lemhi Pass, "immense ranges of high mountains" await. Between that and the fires, the CDT is hardly handing this thing to us, exactly as it should be. [image]

Alaskan Skiing Dreams, Lines, Aircraft and Storms - Haines Report 2 by Louie Dawson March 30, 2015 written by Louie Dawson March 30, 2015 (Editor's note: The WildSnow AK crew's solar electric system is under repair. The crew is working on a fix (Apollo 13!). Blog posts may be delayed. They've still got their sat phone and SPOT units functional so they're safe for emergency comm, but they can't send more photos or lengthy text at this time. Lou2) After three days of incredible skiing we're sitting in our tent, stuck in a storm. As I listen to the beating wind, images from the past days run through my mind. [image] Loading up at Costco before the trip. $1400 bucks in the pie hole! We arrived in perfect weather. When it's clear in AK, you go for it! "Ninja-style," as Drake puts it. We've been doing just that, skiing from dawn till dusk, with small amounts of eating and sleeping in between. Not time for much else. Now that we're storm bound we've got nothing but time. If the weather reports are to be believed, we're in for a five-day storm, at least. In any case we've skied some incredible lines, some of the best turns of our lives. [image] Drake's plane (53Charlie), on the Tarmac. Always good to see this ticket to the goods ready to rock. [image] 30 minutes later on the glacier. Zach and Jason landed on Monday morning. We immediately headed out on a tour. Being dropped into the middle of these mountains, we had little knowledge of the snowpack or conditions. Our first day, we prioritized snow evaluation and stability assessment. Wanting to get a good idea of all aspects, we toured up to a mellow saddle and split up the group to dig some snowpits. Zach and I dug one on a NE slope, while Coop and Cory dug on either side of the saddle, on E and W slopes, with Jason belaying. Our pits had fairly satisfactory results. We also did some quick ski cuts, with no results. [image] Snow investigations. Our snow pit was so deep I had to build a stool out of snow blocks to do a column test. With cautious confidence in the stability, we skied down the east slope in search of ski lines. At the bottom we hung out a bit. While we were eating a snack, a heli approached, circled above, and landed nearby. A guy in a guide's jacket hopped out, and started post-holing towards us. He asked us if we would mind if they filmed some steep spines above us. We didn't really mind, but our "Alaskan wilderness experience" was shattered. Mark (the guide), also told us that there was going to be lots of heli activity in the area over the next few days, as there were 9 (!) film crews trying to get footage in the area. They should hire us to do their recons. Although we were a bit bummed, we had known that sharing the terrain with heli-skiers was a possibility. We had chosen our location, at the head of the Riggs Glacier, with a variety of factors in mind. Since it's been warm in the Glacier Bay area this winter, the high elevation of our camp is important. It's also a fairly short flight from Haines, and in close proximity to a plethora of incredible ski lines (in particular a big face known as "Tomahawk," due to the many pro riders who have done just that down the massive face.) Our camp is inside the the national park, but just barely. Much of the nearby accessible terrain is outside the park, and therefore accessible for heli-access (as far as I understand, anyways). However, we'd been under the impression that they wouldn't be in the area much, since it's quite a long flight from the heli-bases. Unfortunately that didn't seem to be the case. Although we were a disappointed at having to share our skiing, that wasn't the biggest issue. Twenty days on an Alaskan glacier is just about the best way to mitigate the "scarcity heuristic." However, that safety advantage was blown out of the window. We all started to feel the drive to ski some of the bigger, more enticing lines near camp right away. Whoa. [image] Not bad views out the tent door. We tempered our enthusiasm, and proceeded to investigate some enticing slopes above us. We split up. Zach and I headed for a short couloir, while Coop, Jason, and Cory headed up an adjacent slope. Zach and I dug a pit we didn't like, but the other guys found some better stability, and skied a great line in the evening light. [image] First line of the trip! Not too shabby! We toured back to camp, and we're excited to take advantage of the stability and good weather and ski some of the other big lines around camp in coming days. As for the heli film crews, we trust they're having a nice nine days in Haines waiting out the weather. Undoubtedly they're more comfortable than we are - but we like it here anyway. [image] The Crew. From L-R, Zach, Jason, Louie, Coop, and Corey.

Saturday, March 9, 2013 Apollo Couloir 3/8 Apollo Couloir runs off North Olympus right to the valley floor. It is a run I've wanted to check out for a while and with bad visibility at upper elevations, we decided to give it a go. After parking at the same trailhead for the West Slabs (Medusas Face), you continue up the trail past the creek leading to the face to the next gully heading up the mountain. There was a lot of avalanche debris at the entrance of the couloir, making it difficult to get up. Forgetting to bring skin wax led to a lot of snow sticking on our skins, and the quick transition to boot packing. Apollo Couloir has steep rock walls on the skiers left side and the west face of Olympus on the right. It was a really nice couloir and ended up being good skiing as well (minus the debris at the bottom). On our way out we tried to continue down the gully instead of branching out the way we came. This led us to a forest of shrubbery that was almost impossible to get through with getting stuck every few minutes. Eventually we found our way back to the car right as the clouds were rolling in. [image] Moving through the debris [image] Gaining the top of the couloir [image] First turns [image] Nico making turns [image] Justin making some turns [image] Half way down [image] Greg finishing up the bottom of the chute Posted by GJK at 12:19 PM

Casco Peak Casco Peak can often be skied on its E-NE face from the peak when coverage is good. Along with high avalanche danger, you are also exposed to rocks and big cliffs. Maps *All Mapped Areas are Approximations Trip Reports 05/20/2013 - (Stuck in the Rockies Blog) 05/20/2013 - (CentennialSkiers.com) Find Nearby Zones *All Mapped Areas are Approximations tagged: Lake County, Sawatch Range

Out there with Tom: Quick trip up Mount Wright Out there with Tom A weekly recounting of the weekend adventures of Tom Kotynski, retired Great Falls Tribune Associate Editor, who prowls Montana's mountains, particularly the Rocky Mountain Front, and Island Ranges including the Little Belts. All photos and writing are copyright Tom Kotynski. Tuesday, July 12, 2011 Quick trip up Mount Wright [image] Jones Columbine spangled the ridgeline near the top of Mount Wright [image] Silky Phacelia showed off along the trail [image] Arnica and greenery offset the ghost trees of the 2007 Fool Creek Fire [image] The wild rose was in bloom [image] The fire created the most interesting trail sign Mount Wright (elevation: 8,875 feet) is the perfect day hike if you haven't got a lot of time. It's 7 miles round trip with an elevation gain of 3,200 feet, but the trail is as scenic as they come and very direct. I hit the top in just under 2 hours on Tuesday on a mission to scope the snow situation in the Bob Marshall Wilderness is preparation for a trip in 11 days. [image] Beargrass was blooming Looking across the Bob from the top I saw lots of snow. The Swans on the horizon were packed. Silvertip peak in the north central portion of the area is so covered you can't tell the snowpack from the glaciers. I'm going to have to hope that a combination of hot weather and rain will wash away enough snow that a trip to the North Wall happens. There was only one small patch of snow on the Mount Wright Trail Tuesday. There were flowers everywhere. On the lower elevations the wild rose was blooming, perfuming up the mountain flanks. The hillsides, covered with dead trees from the Fool Creek Fire of 2007, were carpeted with yellow arnica and lush greenery, a product of the winter snows and spring showers. Hollyhocks, an aftermath of fire, are ready to bloom. There were even patches of beargrass, a sure sign of summer in the high country. But, there was evidence the snow had just come off in many spots; glacier lilies and pasque flowers. Atop the peak there were bunches of forget me nots and Jones columbine. It was a hazy day and it appeared that there had been a cloudburst the night before and the skies indicated there would be another shortly. So, I made it a quick trip down, satisfied with a short climb. Posted by Out there with Tom at 6:17 PM

Saturday, October 24, 2015 Rattlesnake traverse With our indian summer continuing to stretch into mid-october, I was able to get out for yet another gorgeous fall day in the mountains. With some school exams the following week, I needed something close to town and reasonably short to allow sufficient study time as well. The rattlesnake traverse fit the bill perfectly - super close to town, short and easy bike shuttle and reasonably short time commitment. [image] the route, from stuart peak I've done a mosquito to sanders to murphy to point six loop in the spring on skis but never the full traverse w/ stuart so I was excited about the route. Not wanting to endure a very chilly bike ride that morning, I stashed a bike at snowbowl and drove down to the ravine TH, figuring the ride would be more enjoyable in the afternoon sun. I felt slow and groggy the first couple of miles headed up to stuart peak but just plodded along at a casual pace, reaching the top in about 2:15, where I chatted with a few folks before setting out for mosquito (they were surprised to hear I was headed all the way to snowbowl, but I informed them that mileage wise, stuart is actually already half way from the ravine TH to snowbowl). [image] one of many nice ski lines between stuart and mosquito I bumped into a solo backpacker along the way but otherwise the stretch to mosquito was uneventful. I took my time descending the NW ridge, stopping to scope the entrance to each of the couloirs that drop down to glacier lake (I've skied 2 of them this past spring but am excited to return someday to ski them all in a day - 5 prominent ones appear to go clean). I re-joined the trail for a short stretch before reaching the saddle and continuing up the broad S ridge of sanders peak. [image] sanders (R) and murphy (L) from mosquito [image] first of many couloirs on mosquito's N face Despite the slow travel, I decided to stick to the ridge proper between sanders and murphy, which served up some decent and some not-so-decent scrambling, including a short but stellar exposed section of low 5th class terrain. It would certainly be faster and likely more enjoyable to bypass a good portion of this ridgeline on the south (and keep the difficulty at class 3 or below). It was nice however to get eyes on a few prominent ski lines that drop N off this ridge to upper finley lake for future reference. [image] looking W to murphy from west sanders pt. [image] from murphy, a look back to sanders peak I reached the summit of murphy nearly 2 hours since sanders (slow!), and was nearly out of water. The next stretch of ridgeline to point six was fun to see without snow for my first time and nice easy terrain in comparison to the sanders-murphy ridgeline. I descended snowbowl via high roller to the beargrass highway to lower paradise. Once at the bike, I was disappointed in myself in not having also stashed water, but a quick and thirsty ride had me down the road and back to the truck, amazed at how close to town this worthwhile wilderness loop resides. Approx. splits: 2:15 stuart, 3:45 sanders, 5:30 murphy, 7:20 bike Stats: approx. 23mi/7k vert in 7:20 car-bike at casual/moderate pace Rose: beautiful day, not flaring up my knee Thorn: slow travel and a lot of loose rock on the sanders to murphy ridge line Bud: linkup of all the N couloirs on mosquito peak Posted by Andrew at 12:00 PM

Mt Oklahoma - 13,843 [image] RT Length: 8 miles Elevation Gain: 3450' I made several spreadsheets this week outlining possible hikes, and finally settled on Mt Oklahoma. Imagine my surprise when I checked the weather forecast one more time at 2am and it switched from 15mph winds to 45mph winds! I considered changing my peak at the last minute, and then looked at the direction of the wind. I should be ok.... Speaking of OK, when I was about 8 or 9 years old I understood the joke for the first time that "Oklahoma is OK". I thought this was hilarious, even though my friends didn't 'get it'. I told it over and over again and got blank stares. Maybe I just wasn't telling it right? But I digress... I arrived at the trailhead around 5:30am, surprised the 4WD road was clear of snow all the way to the upper trailhead, despite snow in the forecast for last night. Conditions of the road in are the same as the last time I was here (https://wildwandererlmc.wordpress.com/2018/07/20/55-mt-massive-14421/). [image] There were no other vehicles in the parking lot. I gathered my gear (whoops! I forgot my goggles, oh well, my sunglasses would have to do) and started just before 6am. I followed the Mt Massive/Halfmoon Lakes trail to the trail junction in the dark, but by the light of the full moon. The trail had pockets of snow, but no traction was needed. [image] The moon gave off enough light so I didn't need my flashlight, but not enough light to get a good picture of the mountains in all their snow capped glory. They were beautiful, and I stopped several times to try and photograph them (none of which turned out). I was wasting serious time trying to get a picture I'd never be able to capture, so I put my camera(s) away and kept going. [image] From the trail junction I continued west, back into the trees [image] And up and over a very large rock (I'm guessing 50-70 feet long?) [image] I kept thinking to myself how I wished the elevation gain would start soon. I was over 2 miles into a 4 mile summit, and still no real elevation gain. Those last few miles were going to be a killer! From here I left the North Halfmoon Lakes trail and the route-finding began. The trail was surprisingly free of snow until I passed the second creek crossing. [image] From here snowshoes would have been helpful, but I didn't put them on. Route finding through the trees was interesting. At points I could tell there was a trail, or a heavily used path out there somewhere, but most of the time everything was covered under lots of snow. [image] I had to backtrack once, but was able to find my way to the ridge and after exiting treeline I found a few cairns (not enough to rely on... maybe 5 total in the next 2 miles). At the ridge I continued left [image] Over this hill and up the drainage [image] And up some more drainage. This is where I put on my snowshoes. The snow is deceptively deep in some areas here (it is a drainage after all) and bare in other places. The snowshoes were worth it for the times I sank to my waist. [image] At the top of this drainage was a small basin [image] I found 2 cairns here, indicating the way I should take up the slope. [image] This is where the hike became challenging. That slope is much steeper than it looks, and just when you reach the top, there's another slope just as long to navigate. I kept on my snowshoes until the snow stopped, and then put them in my pack and hiked up to the ridge. Hiking was much easier with the snowshoes! I'll take snow over scree any day. [image] When I reached the ridge I was surprised to see more snow. A lot of it! But it didn't look that deep, so I put on my microspikes and started forward. [image] That lasted about 30 feet. There was no way this was going to work. I needed snowshoes. And goggles (that wind!). I stopped to put them on, realized I'd left my goggles in my truck (drat!) and looked at the task before me. I had less than an hour to make it to the top before my turn around time. My legs were burning, and it was slow going, but I knew I could do this. I trudged on. There isn't an exact route to the top, just keep aiming for the highest point. I chose to go left instead of straight because the snow looked deeper and less stable directly in front of me. [image] Once again, it's steeper than it looks and I had to stop every 50 feet or so just to catch my breath. My ice axe proved useful several times. The wind was picking up and I was getting cold. Those 2 miles without elevation gain were catching up on me! [image] I summited at 9:25am (my turnaround time was 9:30am) [image] VIDEO: [video] The summit is mostly flat, with a small cropping of rocks near the Mt Massive side. [image] Here's a view to the south [image] This is the way I came up [image] I turned and looked to the left of Massive, and there was the weather I'd been worried about. 45mph winds turning fresh snow into ice clouds, headed towards me. It was time to book it off this summit before those clouds reached me. [image] But first, a shadow selfie [image] I backtracked the way I'd hiked in, following my tracks [image] The snow was soft, perfect for skiing. I didn't have any skis, but I had fun gliding in strides in my snowshoes. I quickly made it back to the scree slope where the snow ended for about 200' and the scree reigned. [image] I decided against taking off my snowshoes for this part. Snowshoes actually provide the same stability on scree as they do on snow. Plus I was too lazy to take them off just to put them back on again. (If your snowshoes are aluminum don't try this. Also, get new snowshoes). [image] I made it down into the basin and stopped for a bit to reapply sunscreen and take off my gloves (I had on multiple pairs). This was also the last time I saw my hat. Since I had on a balaclava too I didn't notice when it went missing. I'm not sure if I lost it here or in the trees, but if you find it please bring it down and donate it to a worthy organization (I knit about 300 a year and give them to low income elementary schools and teen homeless shelters in Colorado). This was the only time I wore it, and after washing it I'd planned on adding it to the donation pile. [image] I continued following my tracks back down to treeline and back to the North Halfmoon Lakes trail. After the second stream crossing the snow virtually stopped, and when I hit the junction it was gone all except for when I was in the trees [image] I made it back to my truck at 11:50am, 10 minutes before my 12pm target time, making this an 8 mile hike/climb/snowshoe adventure in about 6 hours. [image] I didn't see a single person the entire day, which I consider a win! There was a Tacoma in the parking lot when I left, and I did see at least 2 if not 4 sets of tracks on the trail going up to Mt Massive as I was heading down. Here's my relive video: https://www.relive.cc/view/1928750207 Note to self: it's time to keep goggles in gear bag.

West Ridge of Prusik Peak June 27, 2021 Daniel and I had... always wanted to climb Prusik Peak. It is THE iconic peak in the Enchantments, how could a climber not want to experience that stark ridgeline?! However, Prusik Peak sits deep in the Enchantments, practically half way through, and is a really hard peak to access easily in a day. Ideally, we would then do it in two days, yeah? However, due to an incredible influx of people to this area of the state, a very-difficult-to-aquire permitting system is in place for most of the climbing season. This is all fine and dandy, in fact, I'd rather have the area to be permitted to help manage the damage done to the area. And it does make climbing Prusik peak a very enticing challenge of endurance! [image] Looking down Aasgard with a beautiful sunrise [image] Prusik Peak from the core My spring this year had been completely eaten up by a series of life events (primarily a new job!) and I hadn't been in to the alpine for a while. The only day that lined up for Dan and I to adventure together in June happened to be one of the hottest days in the state, with temps of 100+ degrees in Seattle! To try to keep us heat-weenies from melting, we decided that we needed to do most of this climb in the dark. Since I worked the day before, that meant getting off work, driving to the trailhead, and without sleep leaving at 1:30am to get up in to the core of the Enchantments. And so, with a 5 hour energy in hand, we took off from the Stuart Lake trailhead to make our way up to Colchuck lake. Now luckily, we had done our research and slimmed down our climbing gear a whole lot to keep the weight low. What we decided to carry was one 7.5mm half-rated 60m length rope which we climbed with doubled in half. We also had a small single rack of 6 cams between the sizes of .3-2, a set of 6 nuts, and a handfull of alpine draws. We each carried 1L of water and were able to filter at a ton of spots along the way. We ascended Aasgard pass at about 5:00am as dawn was peeping out, and were treated to a beautiful sunrise in the core. After about 12 miles and 5k of gain, we got to the base of the climb when the sun was up, but luckily with this route being on the west side of the mountain, and the rappel being on the north, we were still in the shade all climb. The climb itself is about 400 feet, and we were able to simul all but two short pitches. The first one we pitched out was the slab pitch, which was very butt-puckering and elvis-leg-inducing for the leader. After backing up the piton with a .3 cam, we cruised on up and continued simuling up the mountain. The last pitch was the second one we pitched out, and while there are many options to top out, we decided to do the right side flakes. This had lots of placements for the leader and defineitely felt within the 5.7 rating of the climb. We wiggled up the chimney to the top and celebrated! [image] [image] [image] At the top - woot! [image] Looking up at our route [image] Descending Aasgard pass Like any climb, however, the top is only halfway. So we didn't spend too much time in the sun up there, and rappeled the north face after a water break. The raps are not all that tricky as long as you take time to use your eyeballs and find the stations, and we got down in 5 raps, though we probably could have done 4 and scrambled the 5th. We had brought ice axes and crampons to do the snow traverse after, but we didn't end up pulling them out as there wasn't a whole ton of snow left, and what was there was soft and easy to traverse on. We got to Prusik pass, applied more sunscreen and deet (the mosquitos were RELENTLESS the entire day), and took off to ascend roughly 1,000ft back to Aasgard pass. Coming down Aasgard at around noon, we found a couple dozen people ascending the pass in 100 degree heat. We thought they were either crazy or bold, but according to the helicopter rescue we saw once we were down at the lake, it may have been the former - ha! They were okay, just needed a lift out of the range. Not too soon after, we found ourselves finally back at the car and on our way to cold beer and pizza with our friends - what a great way to end a long day! We ended up staying awake for about 40 hours to do this mostly in the dark, saw 1 helicopter rescue, changed 1 tire (on the way down the trailhead in 100 degree heat), drank about 3 litres of water each, and had about 2 hours (yes, that's not a typo) of a heart-to-heart conversation at the base of Prusik. Somehow those pop out right when it is least convienent, doesn't it?! Worth every minute. THE DEETS: Total mileage of the day - Around 24 miles Total elevation gain - Somewhere between 6,500 and 7,000ft Total time - About 15 hours Type of climbing and time spent on wall - 5.7, 5 pitch climb. Aproximately 2hr 45mins spent on the climb and rappel. Approach GPS via Strava - https://www.strava.com/activities/5546096004 Descent GPS via Strava - https://www.strava.com/activities/5546099327 Song that was stuck in my head all day - "Avant Gardener" by Gordi and "Here's to Now" by Ugly Casanova

Cruiser Posted on July 5, 2015 | Leave a comment [image] Cruiser After a day off to recover from self-destructive activities, I headed over to the other side of the Olympic Peninsula for a bit of more standard peak-bagging, killing time during the northwest heat wave somewhere slightly cooler than the Cascades. While not one of the higher Olympic peaks, Cruiser is interesting for having a 5th-class-only summit. Most of the "climb" is a long walk up a trail through the woods, then a shorter but interminable talus-slog; however, the final ridge scramble and climb up the summit blob is enjoyable, and some nearby spires look interesting as well. The "pillow basalt" rock generates horrid scree piles, but is surprisingly solid. [image] Logjam in Madaleine (?) Creek I drove to the popular Staircase trailhead fairly early, getting a reasonably cool start for the standard Olympics approach: 4 miles along a river, then 4 miles and 3-4,000 feet up and out of the rain forest to a popular camping lake. This time, the destination was Flapjack Lake. I passed a few lake campers on the climb, but mostly had the green tunnel to myself. My earbuds were down to one ear, which is intolerable for listening to music, but okay for spoken podcasts, of which I still had a decent backlog. [image] This sucked Passing the lake, I continued toward Gladys Divide, emerging from the trees to be immediately smothered in muggy heat. Nearing the pass, I looked darkly at the dismal scree-chute to the right, then psyched myself up for a couple of minutes in the shade before doing battle. The couloir is normally snow-filled, but at mid-summer in a very dry year it is the expected mix of hard-pack and horribly-loose scree. The rock is hard, but has formed irregular round-ish debris that resists becoming stable. I escaped the worst up the class 3-4 left-hand wall, finding a rappel sling and even a bolt as evidence of others' desperation. [image] Splitter, Bomber, and Sinker At the saddle, I saw three attractive-looking spires to the right, one with slings around its summit, and a rounded mass to the left, where Cruiser presumably lay. Following the theme, I assume that climber-bros have named the three spires "Bomber," "Splitter," and "Sinker" (thanks to Gina for that last one, which I had never heard). Scrambling up to the left, I found a mother goat and her kid occupying the highpoint, seemingly unwilling to get out of my way. Fortunately I did not need to reach this highpoint, so I traversed around to their left, where Cruiser's summit monolith finally came into view. [image] Tunnel I descended along the right-hand side of the ridge on a goat- and person-trail, then climbed the gully/chimney toward the final ledge, straying onto the left-hand wall to get around some steps. The final bit went through a fun little tunnel narrow enough to force me to remove my pack and feed it through. From the large platform above, a ramp led around the right-hand side of the monolith to where it eases off to low fifth class. [image] Lower gully/chimney After experimenting a bit, I stemmed and writhed my way up the steep start onto the face, then carefully worked my zig-zag way up to the crest. I found the most positive holds in the golden sections, but eventually ended up trending toward the left-hand side, where a sketchy hardware-store-quality bolt told me I was on the right path. At the ridge, I found the usual PNW tat-pile, and some more very exposed third class leading to the summit, with a couple more bolts for good measure. [image] Olympus (l) and Anderson (r) from summit The summit consisted of two bumps, one perhaps a foot higher than the other. The flies had somehow found the true highpoint, making it uninhabitable, so I descended a bit to the north to a shady semi-platform. Enjoying views of higher peaks to the north and west, with Olympus in the distance, I resolved to find out how much work it would take to summit another glaciated peak in the mid-distance, Mount Anderson. ("About as much as Olympus," as it turns out.) [image] You've got to be kidding. I finished my food, then returned to the dreaded face-downclimb. There are positive holds the whole way, but the easiest route wanders a bit, and the exposure is thought-provoking, contemplating my next move on the crux lower section, who should poke her head out from the platform but Mother Goat? Having failed to dislodge her from her perch before, I was not pleased by this development. I looked around for a rock to throw at her, wishing I were climbing something with more portable holds, but when I found my golf-ball-sized projectile, I turned around to find the kid staring at me instead. I wanted to startle mom away, not piss her off, so I held my fire and waited with some frustration until the two apparently got out of my way. I eventually descended to the ledge, thankful not to receive a horn in the rear. [image] Goats guarding Cruiser Rounding the corner to the platform, I encountered my friends once again, but there was enough room for me to maneuver around them at a non-threatening distance on my way back to the tunnel. The return was about as expected: scramble, miserable chute, trail slog. Temperatures were fairly comfortable going downhill in a daypack, but I pitied the campers headed up in the afternoon, most somewhat out-of-shape with unnecessary quantities of gear. Clearly, I need to do better spreading the Gospel of the Dayhike. [image] Logjam in Madaleine (?) Creek [image] Lesser spires [image] Scree-flood on Gladys Divide [image] Splitter, Bomber, and Sinker [image] This sucked [image] Why, hello! [image] Don't suppose you could move a bit? [image] Cruiser [image] Lower gully/chimney [image] Tunnel [image] Olympus (l) and Anderson (r) from summit [image] Lesser spires from Cruiser [image] Stealth Rainier photo-bomb [image] You've got to be kidding. [image] Yes, you're cute. Now out of the way. [image] Goats guarding Cruiser

June 7, 2022 Backcountry California MT. SHASTA [image] Mt. Shasta is the looming mountain that every driver passes when crossing the Oregon - California border on Interstate-5. This beautiful peak lures sight-seers, hikers, and backcountry enthusiasts alike. Mt. Shasta is the fifth highest mountain in California. A mountain that boasts eleventh in prominence in the USA... and you, yes you, can summit Mt. Shasta! Details: Distance: 12 miles Time: 11-14 hours Elevation Gain: 7,000 ft Trailhead: Bunny Flat Trailhead Can you ski back to the car? Yes, if there's snow Route-Finding Difficulty: Moderate Physical Exertion Difficulty: Advanced Map [image] Link to route on FatMap Getting There: The start of this climb begins at the Bunny Flat Trailhead. During the winter, the plowing stops here, which makes it easy to find as it is the end of the road. Driving out of the town of Mt. Shasta, you'll follow the A10, also known as Everitt Memorial Hwy. The road to the trailhead is all paved, and the parking area is large. We went at the end of May, pulled a 16 ft trailer, and stayed two nights (the night before and the night after our climb). Dispersed camping is allowed at this trailhead. Many people sleep in their cars the night before their climb. When the snow has melted there are actually some campsites just below the parking area. These are more tent-friendly than trailer-friendly. [image] Lots of space at Bunny Flat trailhead for a trailer. Decide whether you want to do this climb in one day, or split it into two days. There is a popular camping area at Lake Helens just before the start of the headwall climb if you'd like to break it up. If you decide to do the climb in one day, we suggest leaving the trailhead by 2-3 am to get to the summit by midday. This blog will talk about doing it in one day, and leaving at 3 am. Summiting Mt. Shasta: When you leave Bunny Flat trailhead, it will of course be dark! If you go later in the year, there are very clear signs and trails that lead you to Horse Camp. Please note, though, that if there is snow down to the trailhead still, you will need to make sure to have your route-finding skills ready. Make sure that after leaving the trailhead, you make a pretty quick left and go up a small hill. This makes sure you are on the left side of Avalanche Gulch as you hike up. If you go straight up through the trees from the trailhead, you will stay to the right of Avalanche Gulch. Eventually, you end up at a very beautiful point, (the end of the day hike trail), and you will see the way to the summit across a ravine that you won't be able to get to! [image] The added bonus of a beautiful sunrise before hitting Lake Helen From Horse Camp, you will gradually bear right as you continue hiking/skinning. If there is no snow, there is actually a path built out of rocks to help protect nature and provide a clear path. If there is snow, continue skinning up towards Lake Helens. There is a small plateau after a long slog from Horse Camp, which provides another area to camp if you don't want to go all the way to Lake Helens. From this plateau, up to Lake Helens is where we put our crampons on our boots and started carrying our gear on our backs. Although, if conditions are right you probably could skin the whole way to camp. [image] [image] From Lake Helens, the climbing begins. It doesn't look that far, but believe me, it will take a few hours to get up the headwall. Crampons, helmet, and ice axe are all required for this section of the climb, as it gets quite steep. There is often a boot pack up the headwall that you can follow. However, other times it's not a clear path and you will have to make your own way. [image] The beginning of the headwall up Avalanche Gulch Towards the top of the headwall is the 'crux' by Red Banks. There is a small opening between the rocks that you can get through, and then another slog to the next plateau. Upon reaching this next Plateau you will have a clear view of Misery Hill. This is where many people were expecting to see the summit. So prepare yourself ahead of time, because it's another slog before you can see the summit. You should be able to get your skis back on and skin Misery Hill. [image] The Crux in Red Banks At the top of Misery Hill, you will finally see the summit! It flattens out considerably as you get closer to the peak, and then there's a short final ascent to get on top. [image] [image] You'll go through a few rocky areas, and there's usually a clear boot pack to the summit. Only a few people fit on the actual summit at one time. So grab a fellow climber and ask them to kindly snap a photo of you! [image] [image] [image] The Mt. Shasta Summit Getting Back to the Car: Go down the way you came, and you should be able to start snowboarding from the top of Misery Hill. When we went at the end of May, Misery Hill was, unfortunately, dirt. So we had to hike down but if you go earlier it will be snowy. Pick your line down! No, you don't have to go through the "crux" to snowboard/ski down. Skiing down Avalanche Gulch is iconic. As you come down Misery Hill, it will be the area just to the right of where you came up, on the other side of Red Banks. If you traverse up higher, you have your pick of the Trinity Chutes, which all eventually dump you out in a similar spot above Lake Helens. [image] [image] On a good snow year, you should have almost 7,000 feet to descend on this epic backcountry adventure! From Helens Lake, you can continue down and eventually ski through the trees right back to Bunny Flat Trailhead. We went a little late in the season. So we ended up having to hike out 2 miles on dirt, but we still got an epic run! [image] Scanning for a good route down with the Pallas Epiphany [image] As far as we could get on snow You can feel pretty good about yourself after summiting Mt. Shasta! It is not for the faint of heart, and it's a quality feat to check off your bucket list! PROS: Iconic Mountain Climbed! Really Gorgeous Views. CONS: Mountain Experience Needed. Long Day! THE SPLIT DECISION: Jay's Take: "Mt. Shasta was the hardest mountain I have ever climbed. It really was the first time I felt nervous that if I made a mistake, I was putting myself in danger or someone else below me in danger climbing the headwall. I wish I had taken a little more time before summiting Mt. Shasta to get my mountaineerins skills more dialed in so I could have just enjoyed the journey and not been so nervous. That being said, I loved snowboarding down. We had great conditions and the snow was just right for some fun carves. After the grueling hike up, strapping on my snowboard for the 4,000 ft. descent was the first time of the day I had an ear to ear grin." Tyese's Take: "I love Mt. Shasta! I'm glad we did it in one day, to cut down on pack weight, but it was a really long day. I'd go a little earlier in the season next time so that we could ski all the way back to the car too. 2.5 miles on dirt after a day like that is a bit brutal. I was glad that there were a few fellow split boarders at the top with us also, to confirm that we could go down where we thought, as a lot of the research I did made it seem very obvious where to ski down but once up there you realize you aren't quite skiing down exactly where you came up! Overall, loved the day, and slept for about 13 hours that night!" Final Words: Make sure to get the proper permits to summit Mt. Shasta. There is a free self-issued wilderness permit at the trailhead, and there is also a $25 summit permit available at the trailhead if you plan to go over 10,000 feet. Make sure you have the correct cash or a check for this, otherwise you can get this permit in town at Fifth Season Inc, the local outdoor shop. Also, make sure you have the right gear. Do not attempt this climb without crampons, an ice axe, and the know-how to self-arrest before you go.

Friday, December 3, 2010 Mail Cabin Recon Avy report says Considerable, which seems a bit low to me. At 9300 feet there is 15" of new, since midnight the upper elevation winds have been 30 mph gusting 40. It's 33F at the house at 8am. Bob and Chris and I decide to go for a very conservative day on the pass, like maybe out to Mount Elly and back. At the top of the pass at 11:00 am there are still plenty of parking places if you can get to them. First you have to shovel through the 2.5 foot wall of snow from the plowing. The earliest cars have been plowed in, have fun with that. We decide instead on a Mail Cabin tour. The Coal Creek parking lot is mostly plowed, there is easily a foot of new there. There is a track up to East Fork of Mail Cabin, and from there I start breaking trail. Not bad when I can stay on top of the old track, and heavy going when I can't. Mike and Lynne, some old friends from Idaho Falls, catch up with us and share some trailbreaking until they peel off up to the west. We plan to head for the forks, but don't get quite that far. Chris is having blister issues (it is early season, remember!) and the trail breaking does get tiring. We stopped just short of 8000' for some lunch. I dug a snowpit, with a few taps got a easy Q3 shear at the fresh snow interface, and the next shear (CT18) was right at the ground (about 4' depth). The column stayed intact, just detached itself from the ground. Chris's feet had had enough, so we declared victory and skied back out. On the way back over the top of the Pass, the parking lot was still mostly snowbank. Speaking of snowbanks, the banks on the west side are a good 6' high, as tall as they ever were last winter. And it's only December 3rd... Posted by Ray Fink at 9:55 PM

Cahill Pond and Rule Creek Pond Hike [image] We started at the trailhead at 12:40pm, intending to take a 4.75 mile loop hike to visit the two remaining ponds at Mueller State Park I'd yet to visit: Cahill and Rule Creek Ponds. As you can see from the photo of the route we took above, we got a little off tack, but only for about 1/3 of a mile. The trails at Mueller are wonderfully market with numbers. Unfortunately the post for the switch off said Trail 17 went left and right. Since we were looking for 34 we were confused (until we came to 32 and noticed our mistake). The positive part of this blunder was I got an extra 2/3 of a mile in (making it over a 5 mile hike), and the way back was all uphill! Woot! I don't know much about the history of Mueller except it was Homesteaded in 1870, then passed through several families (cattle ranchers) until the Mueller Family bought it as a game preserve. It became a Colorado State Park in 1990. There were no clear signs indicating who this home belonged to, but it couldn't have been that old as it had a concrete foundation and evidence of glass windows. [image] The building was dilapidated and had a "keep out" sign. It was obvious the roof had caved in some time ago (and was littering the floor, along with barbed wire. I didn't go inside. [image] It was pretty close to Cahill Pond, so I'm assuming maybe it belonged to the Cahill Family? [image] Directly to the East of Cahill Pond is a large meadow. I couldn't help but stop and take a picture of the grass and rolling hills. [image] There was another building located inside an Aspen grove just before the Cheesman Ranch trail. It looked to be an old hay loft and root cellar. [image] Rule Creek Pond lined Highway 67, and we came upon it almost accidentally. I've seen it from the road frequently, but never realized it was a Mueller State Park Pond. [image] The rest of the trail followed a service road. The trail was pretty to look at, but I noticed some of the leaves were already starting to change color! It's only August 20th: way too early for the leaves to change! [image] Completing this hike means I've now visited all the ponds in Mueller State Park, most of which you need to hike at least 3 miles round trip to see: Rule Creek Pond Cahill Pond Peak View Pond Geer Pond Lost Pond Dragonfly Pond Rock Pond Brook Pond Never/Never Pond School Pond

Sunday, April 22, 2012 Missions shut down - sort of [image] The southwest face of Sheepshead peak in mid winter conditions. I skied the crooked line on the left. With unseasonably warm temperatures in the forecast, I decided to make an early morning push from the Ashley lakes trailhead. It was raining when my alarm sounded at 4 am, so I kept sleeping. The rain eventually abated, so i decided to have a look. Starting from the valley, it took almost an hour of hiking and strategic switchback cutting to reach the upper trailhead. I stashed approach shoes there, and proceeded up the normal southwest ridge route to Sheepshead peak. Rain/freezing line was disturbingly high - around 8,000 feet. Adding to the delights of the day, a freezing mist storm blew in around 9 am, and I hunkered down for a few minutes. Things were not adding up like I had hoped. The freezing mist persisted, and I eventually gave up and returned to skinning blindly up into the mist. I slowly made my way onto the upper face, and gained the summit ridge in a whiteout. I turned around approximately 300 vertical feet below the summit, unwilling to navigate the heavily corniced summit ridge. [image] On the summit ridge. Visibility was poor. [image] I was relived to find enough snow in the exit chute. I reversed my ascent route through the upper cliff bands, then skied the remainder of the southwest face. I dropped out of the clouds about half way down, which was great for morale. The lower 2,500 vertical feet of the face was terrible unfrozen slush. I skied carefully, and was soon standing on the banks of Ashley lake, admiring a lone set of ski tracks on one of the biggest and best ski faces in the Missoula area. Both lakes have melted out enough to be untrustworthy, so I was treated to a healthy serving of old fashioned Mission mountain bushwacking before gaining the summer trail. The hike out was slow, with some skiing, some hiking, and an hour long nap thrown in for good measure. 6,000 vertical feet and done in 8 hours 4/21. Note: The canal bridge has finally been replaced. The road is as gnarly as ever however, so bring a high clearance 4wd rig and go for it, or add about an hour to the day and hike from near the canal. Posted by bstory at 9:44 PM

Brown Peak, Death Valley National Park [image] Asaka and I planned another family trip to the Las Vegas area for the New Year. Leif and Asaka would fly, while I planned to drive my car down. This would allow me to climb a peak on the way. I left the night before with several options researched. I would pick the best option at the last minute depending on how I was feeling. It was the day after Christmas and the traffic was absolutely terrible. I had dinner in Tehachapi, but was still hours away from any peak on my to-do list. I pushed on past Barstow, but it wasn't long before I was stopped by traffic once again. Rather than continue to sit in traffic, I found a empty plot of BLM land nearby and slept in my car for the night. I arose the next morning before dawn, turned on the heater and resumed my drive along Highway 15. I concluded that Brown Peak in Death Valley would be the best fit for the day. This hike was the perfect length, considering that I had to pick up Asaka later that that afternoon at Harry Reid (previously McCarran) International Airport. The traffic was now gone, and I enjoyed the 2 hour drive drinking canned coffee, eating muffins and listening to sports talk radio. I parked due east of Brown Peak along Highway 127. It was cold that morning, so I layered up then started off at a brisk pace across the desert. To the northwest rose Eagle Mountain, which might be California's most fun desert scramble, and from my vantage point, a striking looking peak. [image] Brown Peak was visible from the start. It was the peak in the center with a lighter shade of rocks. The hike started off like most desert peaks. A long, gradual wash led me to the base of the peak. I reflected on how cool this hobby is. I was all alone in the middle of a vast wilderness, and most importantly comfortable while doing so. My normie friends will never understand. [image] While the main objective of the outing was Brown Peak, there was an unnamed peak of similar height just to the northeast referred to as Peak 4830. I decided to climb this first. [image] Following the ridge in front of me seemed like the best option, so I made my way over to its toe. My pace slowed as a was forced to cross washes and maneuver through boulder piles. [image] I walked to the top of the ridge where I had a great view of Peak 4830. This route looked more fun than staying in the wash. [image] I was surprised to find cairns atop this ridge. I suppose I am not the only one who considered using this route. There were some minor dips in the ridge that are common with almost all ridge runs, however for the most part the elevation gain was consistently sustained. [image] Brown Peak lurked behind Peak 4830. My unnamed peak looked much cooler. [image] There were some sections of easy class 3 along the ridge. [image] While an easier route could have definitely been found, I picked a fun and challenging line that was made more difficult by growing gusts of wind. Atop the scramble, I crossed a flat section, favoring the lower areas to stay clear of the wind. [image] I again picked another class 3 route that took me near the top of the peak. A light dusting of snow had remained on the ground in some of the shaded places. [image] Moments later I reached the top. To the north was Eagle Mountain. [image] To the northwest were the Funeral Mountains. [image] To the west were Brown Peak, Funeral Peak and Telescope Peak. [image] To the south was Avawatz Peak. [image] To the east were Mt Stewart Mt Charleston. [image] It was cold so I didn't dally. I continued along the ridge towards Brown Peak. [image] The wind was now really starting to pick up. It became less and less fun the more I got hammered. [image] I put my head down and marched forward. There were some patches of snow which I had to either hike across or avoid. My place had slowed a bit, but as I climbed higher, the grade became more gradual. I found the Evelyn Benchmark atop the broad summit. [image] To the southeast were Kingston Peak and Avawatz Peak. [image] To the east were Mt Charleston, Pahrump Peak and Nopah Peak. [image] To the northwest were Pyramid Peak and Bat Mountain. [image] To the west was Greenwater Valley. [image] It was still rather windy, so I took the summit register and rested on some rocks beneath the summit that were slightly out of the wind. I was ahead of schedule, so I decided to take some time to disclose my feelings of distress in the summit register. It had been a tough two years for me. [image] I decided to return back down to the saddle between Brown Peak and Peak 4830. [image] From the saddle I dropped down to the wash to my south. This may not have been the best way to descend. There was a lot of sand on top of loose and steep rocks. At least I was now out of the wind. Keeping my footing was challenging until the last hundred feet or so. I was able to boot ski the remaining way down to the base of the gully. I entered the wash and followed it back out. [image] A dust storm had begun to form to the south. I hurried down the wash in an effort to reach my car before it hit. [image] [image] [image] [image] [image] I admired the cool looking rocks along the way, wishing I had a field geologist along for the hike to educate me. [image] Red, green and blue rocks were all present in the same location. [image] Agate, a mix of chalcedony and quartz, was seen in various sections of this wash. [image] [image] The dust storm began to abate prior to reaching my location. I had an uneventful walk back to the car. [image] [image] [image] It was still early when I got back to the car so I decided to look for a bonus peak. Ring Benchmark was nearby and would only require about 2 miles of round trip hiking. There was even a trail marked on Google Maps. I drove south to Shoshone and then east along Highway 178, stopping momentarily for a photo of Brown Peak and Peak 4830. [image] I drove a little bit further, parking at a wilderness boundary just beyond Charlie Brown Outcrop. I considered driving beyond the boundary, but I'm thankful I didn't because the road was undriveable shortly after. Continuing on foot was easy enough. [image] Near the top of the road were several mines. [image] I left the road here and climbed up steep yet sticky limestone slopes to the summit. The weather had turned ominous, but the lighting made for great views all around. Nopah Peak and Nopah Range High Point were most impressive. [image] [image] [image] [image] [image] [image] [image] [image] It was a great bonus peak for someone looking for a slam dunk. I returned to the car and continued my drive towards Las Vegas. I arrived early enough to stop by the grocery store and check into our lodging before Asaka and Leif landed. For Tumblr By Peter Vidani

DAY TWO WEST MCMILLAN SPIRE, Southern Pickets [image] DAY ONE - DAY TWO Photos and story by Jason Hummel I was chased out of our shelter with the prospect of morning alpenglow sweeping the slopes of Degenhardt over to McMillan Spires. Snow slopes appeared more alien than terrestrial with dark shadows starkly contrasting the pinkish glow of glacier and rock. While the day came alive, we ate breakfast and melted more water. By then that night's smile had morphed into a full on grin. The route to the base of the climb was still a long traverse around a lake; the remnant of a retreating glacier. Surrounded by steep walls at the outlet, cliffs act like a gateway. I skied up to this on my descent and felt privileged to see a lake newly formed in my lifetime. It truly looked wild and surreal with the snow sluffs leading to the perfectly leveled bottom. [image][image] Climbing up the snowfields went very quickly. There was just enough give in the crust to offer purchase for the climb. This softened as we climbed into the light, and by then tee shirt and no gloves were par for the course. It was hot!!! We didn't know what to do with ourselves. Obscenities would just randomly be shouted at the top of our lungs or under our breath. It was incredible; the Pickets have treated me well in nearly every journey. I was getting spoiled, and I liked it. [image][image] [image][image] [image][image] [image][image] We were forced to boot when the slope steepened. I led the way to the col. I couldn't wait to see the other side of the Picket Range, and whatever energy I had left carried me upward until, nearly there, I slowed to catch my breath before Fury, Luna, and the North Faces of Terror, Degenhardt, Pyramid, Inspiration and everything between were brought into focus. It took my breath away again. I've dreamed of climbing in the Pickets in winter for a long time. This was it; my payoff. Maybe it's what climbing is all about: to come and see the true beauty of nature; the destructive forces and calm serenity of wind, rain and snow. They carve these statues and we idolize them. [image][image] [image][image] Above us was a narrow shoulder leading to a knife ridge. To either side was a lot of exposure, but the climb was reasonable. With my whippets and crampons, I took charge before the others were ready and led the way to the summit. There were icy nubbins with soft snow underneath. Not the best for skiing. I kept looking back, wanting to take out my camera. Near the top I let the others pass and they didn't dally. By the time I climbed across the final ridge, they were retreating and preparing for the descent. [image] [image] The skiing did have a few obstacles, the main one of which was a rock step toward the top. When I climbed by it I didn't think that it would be very wise, but impressions while climbing are never good, it is best to decide once the skis are on your feet. No matter the butterflies and the narrow ridge, I focused on getting my newly waxed skis on. I swore that I would not be waxing anytime soon, especially any pair I had just purchased. I like them scratched, and when I came to the crux, I scratched them on the rocks. Sky had caught up with me by then. He had climbed down to find an alternate route, but decided that it was no good. Just as I was skiing down he had returned to the top. We both had no issues with the original route, although sky used his axe while I employed my 168cm skis. When I reached Phil just below the crux, my mouth wasn't dry anymore. When kayaking we use what is called the 'spit test'. If you can't spit, you should portage. At the top, I managed to spit, so I skied. [image] [image] [image] Getting back to the col felt great, and the snow was nice in places where it wasn't icy (smile). That wasn't the case below the notch; it was absolutely primed for three dogs to mark their territory. The snow was amazing. I'll let the pictures tell the rest of the story, at least the skiing part. [image][image] [image] [image] The return journey home was stalled by multiple looks backward. At camp, we ate the remainder of our food before packing up, Sky with his unbelievably small pack. The pace was pushed to get as far out before darkness came. Our best case scenario was to be at the road grade before dark (this road is not exactly a road anymore). Slush snow met us by the time the traverse back to the ridge was completed. It was a real energy waster, and turning was next to impossible. Sky and Phil gave up skiing at some point, while I continued to 'cure' my skis on multiple rocks and logs. Sky caught up with me when I changed to boots for a short walk to the road. Here we put skis back on. For the next several miles there were short carries, and wild skiing down around trees, stumps, fallen logs, and creek beds. The snow was very icy, making for quick travel. We arrived at the car after gliding along a few roads five and a half hours after leaving camp. You can't beat that de-proach in the Pickets!!! [image] So, there you go, my thrill is here for all of you to enjoy, and for me to come back to years from now, after other trips to the Pickets remind me that I was very lucky to have such beautiful weather, perfect snow, and good friends. As for these mountains reputation of being big, burly and mean, I seem to think that they are not always so masculine; they have more feminine characteristics too. Maybe instead of the most beautiful mountains in the Washington Cascades, maybe they are the most beautiful mountains anywhere. And if you don't agree, I don't mind. Big, burly and mean keep out the riffraff, even us when we become to sure of ourselves. [image] Thanks for stopping by...

Climbing the South Teton By admin in Mountaineering Adventures August 18, 2014 As is often the case with me, my plans always start out more grandiose than what actually transpires. This climb was going to be a combo climb of both the South and Middle in the same day. This is a fairly common climb that a lot of people do and it is still "on my list", but I didn't attempt it on this trip. Instead, I decided to climb the South via the Northwest Couloir and see how fast I could do the climb. Part of my reason for scaling back the plan was to see if I could double book the day and also hit the Feuz Family Reunion up in the Buffalo Valley. This gave me added incentive to keep the pace up. I left the trail head at 5:03 AM, and was back to the vehicle at 12:15 PM, for a round-trip of 7 hours and 12 minutes. That time is pretty pathetic compared to what some of the real speed climbers do, but on this day nobody passed me. I still had to get back to Teton Village to shower and pickup Ann and the reunion started at Noon. We were "fashionably late", at just after 2 PM. It was great to reconnect with some of the Feuz relatives and I vowed to not let 30 years go by before we get back there! I turned 56 years old earlier in the week, and it seemed appropriate to tackle this peak solo and get over 56 hundred feet in elevation gain. I had climbed the Middle last year for my birthday and so I had seen the climbing route. In addition, I had studied up on it from some of the mountain climbing sites. The literature seemed to indicate that it was rated slightly more difficult than the Southwest Couloir route on the Middle, but after climbing both, I think the Middle is slightly more difficult. Some random thoughts about this climb... Climbing solo is a nice challenge and I think it is a great chance to grow and learn. But, I really do prefer climbing with others. It is more fun to share the experience, and of course, it always nice to be able to know that you have someone there if you encounter trouble along the way. Animal eyes encountered in Teton Park in the dark with your headlamp are always kind of spooky - even if it turns out to just be Bambi's mom. If you are choosing to run/jog down the Garnet Canyon trail, you must remain focused the entire way. A stumble and slight ankle sprain are the result of not seeing only one of the many tree roots that were across my path. It slowed me down for a few minutes, but then I just said to myself, "what would Chuck Norris do", and took off on my steady jog again. It's probably best to not try to summit a peak on the same day you are headed to a family reunion - at least if you want to be there in time to eat! My raw data indicated approximately 5,700 elevation gain and 13.7 miles. When you factor in the "up and down" of the climb, it came out to 6,076 vertical and 14 miles. Not bad for a half day's work. GPS Data and map of the NW Couloir route of the South Teton in the Teton Range: [image]

Nez Perce (W Hourglass couloir) Posted on June 13, 2011 | 3 Comments [image] Quick summit shot The day started out promising, with clear skies to the south, so I packed up some sandwiches and headed for Garnet Canyon. The trail had melted out amazingly in the last week, so it made sense to take the first couple of switchbacks rather than kicking steps straight up the snow. There were also a few more sets of tracks, so I was able to find the cut-over to Garnet Canyon without too much effort. I crossed a huge slide on the way along the canyon's north side, with rocks and trees mixed in with the snow, and noticed some smaller slides on the south side. Farther up, I met the source of the fresh tracks I had followed, a Jenny Lake climbing ranger named Jack, checking out the snow conditions. He was impressed by the amount of remaining snow, and wary of impending avalanches; when pressed, he thought that a week of stable weather would be needed to settle things down. I had originally planned to make a loop, going up one side of the hourglass and down the other, but I opted to both climb and descend the easier west couloir. As the "snow" (i.e. thoroughly waterlogged, calf-deep slush) steepened, my progress slowed to a pathetic flounder, and it felt like it took hours to reach the point where the east and west couloirs split. Conditions improved slightly in the couloir, but I was still forced to use my hands in a sort-of crawl to prevent my feet from sinking and sliding. While the underlying rock is supposedly rated 5.1, the slope was moderate enough that I doubt the couloir itself is more than 3rd class. From the top of the couloir, I climbed a dike to the east-west ridge between South Teton and Nez Perce, eventually finding myself on Nez Perce's annoying west sub-summit. A short, spicy downclimb on snow- and ice-crusted rock brought me to the notch, and more careful climbing and backtracking brought me to the summit just as the clouds closed in. I took hasty summit shots, layered up, had a snack, and started thinking about getting back down. I vaguely remembered that the standard route traverses past the summit to come at it from the east, so I descended the moderate east slope, found a cairn, and proceeded to waste time trying to downclimb wet, snowy rock to the next shelf in a worsening blizzard. When I paused to think, I wrung the water out of my wholly-inadequate fleece gloves. Some other cairns led me to a rap station which, while it lacked a downclimb alternative, was at least somewhat sheltered from wind strong enough that, when I spit into the void, the phlegm hovered in space for several seconds. I put on the rest of my clothes, put in my headphones, and thought about how long I should try to wait out the storm. (As it turns out, that wouldn't have worked - as of 9:30 PM we have steady rain and thunder.) At the next break in the storm, I headed back west, and eventually found a path to the next lower shelf and my tracks from the ascent. After that, it was not difficult to downclimb the ridge and glissade the couloir, riding a tame little wet slide into the valley. Then it was just a long, wet walk back to the ranch, with its showers, roofs, and other amenities. [image] Random flower in the valley [image] My contribution to avy control [image] Quick summit shot [image] Grand Teton [image] Close-up of a wet slide [image] Lone fallen rock [image] Looking up Garnet Canyon to Middle Teton [image] Giant boulder from avalanche [image] Big slide in Garnet

Spanish Needle from Lamont Meadow [image] With the summer hiking season coming to an end, I really wanted to climb one more Sierra Nevada peak while the Range of Light was still accessible, but I had to be in Los Angeles for a baby shower. I figured I could find a nice hike down there, but the more I looked, the less excited I became about the options within the Transverse Ranges. I then started to think bigger. Perhaps I could find a peak in the Southern Sierra with a reasonable drive. The SPS list is a Southern Californian list anyways since it criminally omits several great peaks in the northern section of the range. After some quick research, I found that Spanish Needle was only a 3 hour drive from LAX. Therefore, I planned to drop Asaka and Leif at the airport at 6am the morning after the party and drive to the trailhead afterwards. I also discovered a route that is shorter than the standard approach via the PCT from Chimney Creek Campground. With a capable vehicle, one can approach from the northwest via an unnamed dirt road from Lamont Meadows. I wasn't sure how far I'd be able to drive, and I would find out only by trying. Things went mostly as planned the morning of. I dropped Asaka and Leif off and began my drive north. Aside from Google Maps almost completely screwing me over, I made it over Walker Pass in decent time. I left Highway 178 and turned onto Chimney Peak Road, then drove north along dirt roads to Lamont Meadow. The turnoff to the unnamed 4WD road was not obvious, but easy enough to find when looking for it. It drops down steeply and crosses Chimney Creek. My Jeep had little trouble crossing this section, but it was fall of a drought year. From there the driving was generally easy. I drove until I reached a thicket. I could have squeezed through, but I wasn't interested in scratching my brand new car. [image] I had already shaved off a mile of hiking, so I was satisfied to start from here. I drove back a little bit and found a place to park off the side of the track. [image] Once through the thicket, the road improved once again. Lamont Peak stood above me to the south. [image] I aimed to reach the low point in the saddle ahead. [image] The meadow was very pretty. The road then led into the forest. Coulter pine cones littered the ground. [image] [image] All the while I was impressed with the quality of the road. I could have driven 1.5 miles further with no issues. A fallen tree finally barred further progress, and the dirt road evolved into dirt bike tracks thereafter. Eventually the dirt bike tracks disappeared, and I was left climbing up a dry gully. In some places this gully would get choked up with a fallen tree or some brush, making me sidehill around whatever obstacle lay in my path. [image] The bushwhacking that I found was minimal, but it was getting kind of warm, and nobody likes bushwhacking in warm weather. As I climbed in elevation, East Lamont Peak and Lamont Pinnacles rose above the surroundings. [image] The final ascent up the gully was very steep, but there was no more bushwhacking to be had. I followed mostly animal trails until I reached the PCT above. [image] The trip reports stated that I would need to sidehill beneath the ridge ahead of me. [image] I took a rest in the shade here, then continued on the trail a short distance to the south. There wasn't a super obvious marker for where to leave the trail, but I did notice a faint use trail. [image] I made my first mistake shortly thereafter. I was well aware that a long section of sidehilling lay ahead, but since I couldn't spot an obvious cairned route, I decided to slowly gain elevation as I traversed. I should have instead just maintained my elevation because in a short amount of time I found myself cliffed out with big air beneath me. I was forced to descend several hundred feet to get around the cliffs, and after doing so I found some cairns marking the standard route. [image] Not only were there cairns, but there were sections of use trail in various places. It was now approaching midday and getting pretty warm. There was a balmy easterly breeze blowing from the desert. [image] There was a lot of loose talus, and I would say this section was not particularly fun. Needless to say I was relieved to finally gain the main ridge. [image] While there was an easier way below, I stayed atop of the ridge for a short section, which was very exposed and brushy in spots. A faint use trail reappeared again and I switched back up the gully above. Once atop a false summit, the true summit finally came into view. [image] I had to drop down to a shallow notch. I placed my hand on a rock for balance, and in doing so accidentally tore open my hand. That rock was really sharp. I formed a fist to apply pressure in an effort to stop the bleeding. I wasn't thrilled about this because right after was the start of the class 3 section where I actually needed my hands for once. The first block to surmount was about head high, and could either be ascended by a crack or some angled steps on the left. [image] Once atop this I simply walked across the infamous friction slab. In dry conditions this was very easy for me, even though I was hiking with my "slippery" shoes. I could see how this could be an issue in icy conditions. Perhaps someone who is afraid of heights might have trouble here, but then why would someone climb peaks if they are afraid of heights? [image] I thought the scrambling would end there, but I was in for a surprise. There was some additional route finding and scrambling for me to enjoy the rest of the way. None of it was hard though, except in one section a tree blocked what would be the easiest route. [image] Some excellent holds on solid rock followed by a small jump took me to the summit. To the south was Owens Peak. [image] To the southwest was Canebrake Flat. [image] To the northwest were East Lamont Peak and Lamont Pinnacles. [image] To the north were North Needle, Lamont Benchmark and Sawtooth Peak. [image] Off in the distance were Mt Langley and Olancha Peak. [image] To the northeast were Telescope Peak, Maturango Peak and the Mojave Desert. [image] To the east was Rodecker Flat. [image] I opened the summit register and found a gem; a 1964 Carl Heller signature. [image] [image] [image] The temperature was even warm on the summit. It did not feel like a Sierra peak, and the crows had started to encircle me, hoping that I would keel over. Not today crows, not today! [image] I turned my attention to South Needle. I had interest in this one since Bob Burd recently told me that he had been looking at this one for years. It was a short distance from my location, so I decided to give it a try. [image] Making it down without a rope appeared doubtful from the onset, but I decided to investigate anyway. I found a series of ledges, and I was able to drop further and further down, finding weakness after weakness. [image] It started as class 3, then slowly progressed to class 4. It looked like I would be able to descend all the way to the saddle with a series of class 4 moves, and while I feel like I would have been able to do it, I didn't feel the risk was justified. The only reason I was doing this was to impress Bob, and that was a dumb reason. [image] Besides, it was too darn hot. Even if I could get down, I would suffer while hiking all the way to South Needle, only to have to reclimb Spanish Needle again. I figured that it would make more sense to climb North Needle instead, as this was on the way back. I re-ascended Spanish Needle then turned my focus to the point to the north. [image] I scrambled back down the class 3 section, pausing at the slab to take a photo of the exposure. [image] After descending the class 3 section in its entirety, I stopped again to document the crux of the climb. Again, nothing too special here. [image] I had read Bob Burd's trip report regarding the traverse from Spanish Needle to North Needle. He documented brushy sections and some class 4, and this is exactly what I found. [image] The rock quality was poor in places, and the brush simply made things annoying. I was hot and sweaty, and there were several minor pinnacles that I had to ascend and descend. [image] I was not really enjoying this traverse either, but perhaps it was better than the boring sidehilling below. [image] Just when I thought I was in the clear, I reached the base of the summit pinnacle and was stopped by a near vertical cliff. A direct attempt looked like class 5, so I started investigating around the corner to the left. [image] I found a weakness in the rock. An exhilarating scramble ensued, and after some solid climbing I made it atop the western side of the pinnacle. [image] From the top of the ridge, I headed back east towards the summit where I found a pipe bomb register. I could not open it no matter how hard I tried. [image] To the south were Spanish Needle, South Needle and Owens Peak. [image] To the west were East Lamont Peak and Lamont Peak. [image] To the north were Lamont Benchmark, Olancha Peak and Sawtooth Peak. [image] The beauty of now being atop this peak was that it was a simple hike back down to the PCT. I encountered nothing more than class 2 and was back on the trail in no time. [image] I wanted to climb Lamont Benchmark next, so I continued north along the PCT. After 1.5 miles of trail walking, I decided that it was not worth it. I was almost out of water and simply over it. I hate hiking in the heat, and I was no longer having fun. I then decided to drop straight down the sandy mountain slopes. I followed a dry gulch all the way back towards my ascent route at the bottom of the canyon. [image] Once back on the 4WD road, I had an enjoyable, shaded hike back to the car. I watched the sun dip behind Lamont Pinnacles. [image] [image] I found my car where I left it and drove back to Highway 178. I stopped at Sierra Vista restaurant in Weldon for a delicious dinner. I was tired and dirty, but it was well worth it because I was able to steal an SPS peak out of a non-hiking weekend. For Tumblr By Peter Vidani

McWay Waterfall Trail: Julia Pfeiffer Burns State Park McWay Falls in Julia Pfeiffer Burns State Park is one of the most beautiful waterfalls I have ever seen and one of the best in California. The water cascades down the face of the cliff and lands right on the sand, feeding the ocean itself. The waterfall is located about 40 miles south of Carmel in a state park that sneaks up on you amid the Highway 1 curves. If you miss this gem, you really should turn around and find it; you will know you are there when you see the cars lining both sides of the road. The trail is a mere quarter of a mile and features views of the waterfall the entire time. Here is all the information. [image] Details Cost: Free .25 mile hike Flat [image] Unfortunately, you can't walk all the way down to the falls. It is entirely closed off and would actually be a pretty technical climb to get there. Keeping it closed adds to the beauty, in my opinion, as it detracts from people going down and messing it up. Also, it provides an excellent vista for photos without anyone getting in the picture. [image] When we were there, they were bringing someone up who had made their way down and had gotten themselves a ticket. I don't know how much it was for, but I don't recommend you find out. [image] Not sure if this is still ok in 2018 as this piece of information was from 2011. The forest ranger that was working there told me that you could put your kayak in about two miles north and kayak down into the cove without getting a ticket; however, he said it is a problematic cove to get out of if you are not a good kayaker. It seems like it would be a pretty fantastic trip to kayak in and stand under the falls, though, if you have your own gear. Let me know if you do this is as I would love to know how it goes. Other people have said this is not true, but that is what the ranger told me, so do it at your own risk. [image] If you continue along the path, you are also greeted with a great view of the Big Sur coastline at the end. It is indeed a perfect piece of creation, and I would love to spend more time traveling up and down it. [image] I took about 100 pictures of the falls. Every time I turned a corner I saw another view that I thought might be better than the last. It is easy to point your camera in any direction and get a great picture. If you stop at this park, you should also take the Ewoldsen Trail hike as well (currently closed in 2018) as it is right across the street, but that is for another blog post. [image] Also, this is a great spot for sunset if you can stay till then. [image] Leave a comment if you have been to the falls and loved it as much as I did. You can browse more Big Sur spots here.

In the Footsteps of John Muir: Finding Solitude in the High Sierra May 22, 2023August 31, 2011 by Michael Lanza By Michael Lanza I'm slogging up a long ramp of beach-like sand toward Cox Col, an off-trail pass sitting a few ticks over 13,000 feet in California's John Muir Wilderness. The high-altitude sun feels like a blacksmith's forge hovering right above my head. My breaths come faster than my steps, and I feel lightheaded. But I'm thinking mostly about the pass ahead of us-and whether there's a safe route over it. My friend Jason Kauffman and I are on a 32.2-mile, three-day traverse of one of the highest, harshest, and most achingly gorgeous strips of the High Sierra, from North Lake, outside Bishop, to Mosquito Flat, between Bishop and Mammoth Lakes. I've devised a route linking up trails with long stretches of cross-country hiking over lake-studded alpine basins and six passes between 11,150 and 13,040 feet. We are exploring corners of the Sierra rarely seen by people. John Muir himself would have been pleased with our itinerary. Our route's not in any guidebook-not entirely, anyway. Like assembling a puzzle with some missing pieces, I cobbled the traverse together from thin descriptions of fragments of it. I like that element of uncertainty, of the path ahead being something of a mystery. It'll be an adventure, I told Jason, who's laboring up this slope behind me. I got that much right. We've logged 10- to 12-hour days, at times weaving through cliff bands, descending steep, loose scree, and scrambling over big talus blocks that could crush a Land Rover. [image]Hi, I'm Michael Lanza, creator of The Big Outside. Click here to sign up for my FREE email newsletter. Join The Big Outside to get full access to all of my blog's stories. Click here for my e-guides to classic backpacking trips. Click here to learn how I can help you plan your next trip. [image] Lower Lamarck Lake, John Muir Wilderness. [image] Lamarck Col route. [image] Lamarck Col, John Muir Wilderness. [image] Darwin Lakes. [image] Fourth Darwin Lake. [image] Darwin Lakes. [image] Alpine Col route. [image] Goethe Lake. [image] Piute Creek. [image] Humphreys Basin. [image] Humphreys Basin. [image] Granite Park. [image] Granite Park. [image] Granite Park. [image] Granite Park. [image] Italy Pass route. [image] Italy Pass route. [image] Cox Col route. [image] Lake Italy. [image] Lake Italy. [image] Cox Col. Lamarck Col Starting out early on our first morning from North Lake Trailhead, we shiver in shorts in the 30° F air. But before long, the sun, intense at these elevations, moves in like a bad roommate. We climb steadily to Upper Lamarck Lake, whose clear, glassy waters act like a crystal ball, reflecting the cliffs and sea of talus awaiting us. From there, although the map shows no trail, we follow a path beaten by previous backpackers to 12,960-foot Lamarck Col. Not yet acclimated, sucking the thin air in big gulps, I feel the familiar brain-core throbbing of a mild altitude headache-that feeling like someone has surreptitiously hammered a walnut up into the base of my skull. We cross a vast rock garden on a high plateau-thousands of rocks sprayed over the ground, from pebbles to boulders the size of orcas. Around us, pinnacled ridges rise to sharp peaks. Every time I lift my gaze from the path, the scene has changed-the light on the clean, gray-white granitescape having perceptibly shifted, one picture fading out as another fades in. John Muir and Ansel Adams were right: The light does fall differently here. It's good to be back in the Sierra. Find your next adventure in your Inbox. Sign up now for my FREE email newsletter. [image] Jason Kauffman hiking to Alpine Col in the John Muir Wilderness. This story actually begins almost 20 years ago, during my first visit to these mountains, backpacking in Yosemite. One trip to the Sierra is like one M&M: you can't really stop there. This range has pulled me back repeatedly in the years since, including for a thru-hike of the John Muir Trail (JMT) a few summers ago, when I both marveled at the beauty of that classic hike, and kept looking beyond the trail, at amazing peaks and passes and hanging valleys, and wondering, "What's up there?" In many U.S. mountain ranges, unless you're a climber or have an untreatable attraction to thick bushwhacking, you're left to continue wondering what lies beyond the trail's edges. But the Sierra, with its open terrain, numerous walkable passes-and, of course, scenery that pulls in adventurers from all over the world-harbors the best cross-country hiking in America. There are scores of possibilities beyond the well-known Sierra High Route (SHR) that are more consistently scenic even than the JMT. For this trip, I scoured maps and R.J. Secor's indispensable guidebook The High Sierra-Peaks, Passes, and Trails. Our traverse, partly overlapping the SHR, demands expert skills and mental comfort with difficult scrambling. Thirty-two miles was also quite ambitious for three days out here. But Jason and I resolved to travel light and remind ourselves that all suffering in this world is temporary. We kick steps across snow-covered talus to Lamarck Col, a break in a blocky ridge, described by Secor as "probably the most popular cross-country route across the Sierra crest between Bishop Pass and Piute Pass." A sign greets us: "Entering Kings Canyon National Park." We'll walk through a northern corner of the national park only for the next several miles, until crossing Alpine Col later today. This sign might also read, "Welcome to a skyscraping land of rock and water and virtually no vegetation," because we will walk through that kind of starkly beautiful environment for most of the miles that lay ahead. I can help you plan this or any other trip you read about at my blog. Find out more here. [image] Humphreys Basin in the John Muir Wilderness. Darwin Canyon The plunge into icy water steals away my breath as effectively as the elevation. We stop on our first afternoon for a quick dip and lunch beside the fourth (or second-highest) of five lakes arrayed like a string of pearls in Darwin Canyon. Sunshine glints off the water, which ripples from a slight breath of wind. We lounge in T-shirts on flat slabs. Across the lake, a snowmelt cascade jostles loudly down a talus slope below a small glacier on 13,710-foot Mt. Meridel. I turn to say something to Jason, and see him napping. It soon becomes clear we have this entire hanging valley to ourselves. That's not an observation made often in the Sierra. When one of the world's great mountain ranges shares a state with 36 million people, solitude becomes an elusive quarry. On this trip, though, encountering other hikers will be the anomalous experience, so unusual it's a pleasant surprise. While we will see a few groups of backpackers along trails on our route, though, we will see no one on the off-trail sections. And that may be the best reason to get off-trail here-to see, in a sense, the "lost Sierra," the wilder, lonelier, harder, and vaster spaces beyond the Mt. Whitneys and Yosemites. For reasons difficult to enunciate, an alpine lake feels colder, a campsite below a jagged skyline more remote and tranquil, and a 12,000-foot pass like a prouder accomplishment when you're not just another hiker in the queue. By early evening that first day, we stand in a more earnest breeze at 12,320-foot Alpine Col. Behind us, a heavy mountain shadow falls like a comforter over Lake 11910-one of three nameless lakes in the trailless, nameless valley we have just hiked up. The lake's talus-choked shores rises to cliffs and angular, razor peaks washed in a rosy light. It is a snapshot you could take in a thousand spots in the Sierra. But after hauling ourselves up over all that talus and not running into another person along the way, we are the only people getting that shot. Read all of this story, including my tips on planning this trip, and ALL stories at The Big Outside,plus get exclusive gear discounts and a FREE e-guide! Join now! [image] Granite Park in the John Muir Wilderness. Humphreys Basin It looks as if someone laid the rocks in place. Big, closely spaced, and flat-topped, they form a neat, meandering line bridging 25-foot-wide, calf-deep Piute Creek. They remind me of similar easy rock-hops that I've seen spanning broad creeks elsewhere in the Sierra. I suppose it's just statistical inevitability: In a land so littered with rocks, the odds are that some would form lines of stepping stones across creeks. But it does encourage the impression that this place is perfect. Jason and I cross the creek. It's our second morning, and we're en route to sprawling Humphreys Basin, below Mt. Humphreys, which rises to nearly 14,000 feet. With scores of lakes, tarns, and perennial puddles, the map of this plateau above 11,000 feet looks like someone waved a dripping paintbrush over it. Plan your next great backpacking adventure in Yosemite and other flagship parks using my expert e-guides. Tell me what you think. I spent a lot of time writing this story, so if you enjoyed it, please consider giving it a share using one of the buttons at right, and leave a comment or question at the bottom of this story. I'd really appreciate it.

Golden Bear Peak - 13,005 and Hagar Mountain - 13,246 [image] RT Length: 7.82 miles Elevation Gain: 2760' I parked behind some semis at the I-70 MM 213 Westbound Chain Station and was on the trail at 6:20am. I started by taking a paved service road northeast. [image] The road eventually becomes a dirt road [image] [image] The dirt road quickly becomes a trail, and this morning that trail was filled with a couple of inches of ice. The kind that microspikes slip on. I followed it as it headed northeast into a basin [image] After hiking for 1.3 miles I came to a service road and turned right to follow the road towards the ridge. [image] As you can see from further away, this road goes all the way to the ridge. [image] However, I did not take the road to the ridge. The road was full of several feet of snow, but the mountainside only had a few inches of snow, so instead of trenching the route, I headed east towards the ridge. This is the route I took. [image] Here are some pictures of the road [image] [image] At 12160' I left the trail and headed up towards the ridge [image] I could now see Golden Bear to my left. [image] I gained the ridge, and followed it north to the summit of Golden Bear. This was all class 2 [image] [image] [image] There was a marker at the summit [image] I summited Golden Bear Peak at 8am [image] Golden Bear Peak: [video] I could see Hagar Mountain to the north [image] To get there, I continued following this class 2 ridge. There were a lot of ups and downs, but it remained class 2 (until the last 50 feet of elevation gain or so). Here are some pictures of the ridge [image] [image] [image] [image] Now the fun begins. It's class 2 to the top of this ridge. There are a few cairns, but it's basically choose your own adventure. I went straight up. It's steeper than it looks, so get a good view before you ascend. This is the route I took. [image] And some pictures of the route up. [image] [image] At the top I was greeted with a view of the final approach to Hagar Mountain. [image] To be honest, I hadn't done a lot of research on Hagar, and was surprised to find the last bit was class 3. In other words, I didn't have a helmet. Be sure to bring one! I dropped my pack, descended a bit to the saddle, and then started climbing up. [image] This is again choose your own adventure. This is the overall route I took. [image] And some pictures of the scramble [image] [image] [image] Here's the actual summit block. It's the first one you come to. [image] I summited Hagar Mountain at 9:20am [image] Hagar Mountain: [video] From the summit looking north, it seemed as if the next point was equal height to where I was currently, so I scrambled over there too in case any LiDAR issues should arise. [image] Here's looking at Hagar Mountain from the second block [image] I trekked back over to the first block, and found a summit register, so I'm assuming the first block is the true summit. Now to head back. I retraced my steps, aiming for the Golden Bear/Hagar saddle. [image] Here's the overall route I took back to the basin, aiming for the Golden Bear / Coon Hill saddle [image] First I headed back down Hagar the way I ascended [image] [image] After making it to the saddle, I followed the ridge up to 12830' [image] [image] At 12830' I turned and headed southwest towards the saddle. [image] At the saddle I found an obvious trail and turned left. This led me back down into the basin and back to the trailhead. [image] [image] [image] [image] I made it back to the trailhead at 11:20am, making this a 7.82 mile hike with 2760' of elevation gain in 5 hours. [image] On to the next trailhead!

No Name Face A big E-SE facing open bowl, No Name Face is accessible from the top of Loveland Pass. Upon hiking the ridge to Idiot's Cornice, you'll need to go down along the Western Ridge and then start climbing past the saddle. The avalanche danger out here is very high. The zone exits towards The Hippie Trees which would be convenient to skin up after your run. Maps *All Mapped Areas are Approximations Avalanche Reports 01/08/2021 - (No Name Face) Find Nearby Zones *All Mapped Areas are Approximations tagged: Loveland Pass, Summit County

Crooked Couloir This steep S-SE facing couloir off Mt Audubon holds snow very late into the year and often gets skied in July. It's prone to high avalanche danger when conditions are unsafe. Maps *All Mapped Areas are Approximations Trailheads Brainard Lake Winter Lot Trip Reports 06/04/2010 - (14ers.com) Websites Front Range Ski Mountaineering Guide Books Indian Peak Descents: Ski Mountaineering & Snowboarding in Colorado's Indian Peaks by Ron Haddad[image] Making Turns in Colorado's Front Range Vol. 2 by Fritz Sperry Backcountry Ski & Snowboard Routes: Colorado by Brittany & Frank Konsella[image] (Links to guidebooks may be affiliate links) Videos All videos are Copyright their respective owners. These are 3rd party videos hosted on YouTube or Vimeo and we make no guarantees as to their accuracy or relevance. 4th of July Ski on the Crooked Couloir by Dan Vardamis: 07/04/2011 [video] Mt Audubon - Crooked Couloir Top by Ben Kadlec: 05/23/2009 [video] Mt Audubon - Crooked Couloir Middle by Ben Kadlec: 05/23/2009 [video] Find Nearby Zones *All Mapped Areas are Approximations tagged: Boulder County, Front Range, Mt. Audubon

Esmerelda East, Moonlight Serendipity (WI2, M5+, 1200') Nov 21 kyle [image] Unscripted Adventure It has been a ruthless November here in the PNW. Six (six!) atmospheric rivers have pummeled us, decimating what was otherwise a promising early season snowpack and causing significant flooding. With one calm, cool weekend finally in the forecast, I was itching to get out in the mountains. I had not been out in the Cascades for over a month, since the Teanaway Thru-Run. Recovering from a thrashing on Rim to Rim to Rim and healing up from yet another gum surgery, I focused my efforts on my weather blog series and getting ready for ice season. Turns out, ice season would be here before I even realized it. I had seen some surprisingly promising pictures of an ice dagger on one of the Western Esmerelda Peaks out in the Teanaway from a PNW Peak Baggers Facebook post. Traditionally, tons of warm moisture hitting the mountains is the opposite of what we want for setting up ice, but maybe things we not as bad as we had imagined out there. My friends Michael and Kurt were at least game to spend a Sunday walking up to check out this climb and whatever else might be out there. It was a beautiful morning and we drove up a snowy Teanaway River Road until encountering some fresh blowdowns about 4.5 miles from the actual Esmerelda Trailhead at the end of the road. People had driven this road the weekend prior, but I guess a few trees had fallen in the meantime. We debated just heading back to go dry tooling at exit 38, but as Kurt said "we can go dry tooling there any day" so we might as well take the tools for a walk. It was a beautiful day if nothing else. So we trudged up the snow covered road for a few miles and gradually the hillsides rose and steepened dramatically. I usually think of the Teanaway as the small fish of the sea compared to the Stuart Range, but with fresh snow, they took on a more imposing character. There was even a surprising amount of ice development, although nothing was quite in climbable condition yet. Finally at the Esmerelda Trailhead, we continued up the trail to get a view of the flow from that PNW Peak Baggers Post. About a half mile up the trail, we finally spotted it. [image] The ice that brought us here. We had binoculars and a telephoto lens. The climb looked to be one easier pitch followed by one mega hard scary pitch. It was not even clear if the daggers were touching down. With the time wasted walking the road, we definitely did not have time to climb this one. However, the shady face right above us looked far more intriguing... [image] Very, very interesting. We gazed up at the NE Face of Esmerelda East. It was dark, complex, and plastered in snow and thin ice. I had walked back from Longs Pass and Ingalls Lake many times and gazed up at this wall, wondering if it held any good climbing. The rock looks rather poor for summer rock climbing, but in winter it is transformed. The most striking feature we noticed was a central chimney system that cut through the entire face, almost like a dike. We wondered if that weakness could be followed all the way to the top of the face. [image] Just follow the chimneys... Since we had nothing better to do, we decided to head up and check out the bottom of the climb. We forded the river (about 4 inches deep) and started hiking up annoying boulder fields covered in fresh powder. Higher up, the slopes became more complex and we zig zagged our way through sloping cliff bands until we finally reached a point where the face ramped up more continuously. [image] Better than we ever could have hoped for. It was 12:30 pm already, but we figured we might as well start up the first few pitches and see what happened. Bailing looked easy with the abundance of trees. Since we had expected to just be single pitching and walking around, Michael had brought a fixed length pole. Fortunately, I had forgotten mine early in the morning. This presented a small problem, as the fixed length pole would make mixed climbing in chimneys quite challenging. Since I had already established that I was happy to follow each pitch, I volunteered to carry the pole on my pack. [image] Michael getting stoked! [image] Approaching the first pitch of ice. The first pitch was actual solid ice. It was only 50-60 degrees, so we soloed it. It felt so good to thunk our tools into solid ice once again. We had the lowest of expectations going into the day, but it was shaping up pretty well. [image] Kurt heading up the first ice step. We continued up some shallow snow before encountering another ice step. This one was a little steeper and funkier, so we broke out the rope and Michael led up. Above this, the natural line towards the obvious chimney would have been right, but there were some not-quite-iced-up runnels in the way, so we continued up a thin snow ramp to the left for a hundred feet before finding a way up an easy mixed step and then back right on a snow ramp to the base of our chimney. [image] Kurt passing an easy mixed step. Throughout the climb, we were constantly consulting our earlier photos of the face. The face is an intricate maze of hidden gullies and chimneys - far more complex than it appears from below. But we were doing a great job staying on track. This key chimney provided passage through a steeper section of the face. The route might not be possible without it. [image] Michael hammering in a beak. While sub vertical, we could tell that the chimney was tricky and insecure. Snow and rotten ice covered each foothold. Michael had to work really hard to find gear placements, but he did a good job making a bunch. The beak was consistently the most useful piece during the day. [image] Michael working his way up the chimney. Eventually, Michael stepped left out of the chimney to a belay bush. Kurt and I followed. The setting was beautiful - a deep dark chimney about four feet wide with overhanging walls. The climbing was not too strenuous but very balancy and technical. Finding feet was a battle. [image] Unlocking the key chimney! [image] Me following the last bit. Note the annoying pole sticking out! When I reached the belay, Kurt was already leading up some easier terrain towards a steeper headwall. Although parties of three are traditionally inefficient on multi pitch routes, I really loved climbing in a group of three. Three people allowed us to manage messy belay stations quickly. One person could eat or look at route photos while two others climbed. [image] Ingalls Peak poking out behind the ridge. Kurt brought us up to the base of the steeper headwall. The dike-like weakness continued up the rock, but the climbing looked quite bare and challenging. There was a very thin ice smear that could provide an incredible WI3 passageway upwards in fatter conditions. Instead, we decided to quest up a mixed chimney to the left. It looked rough, so Kurt took the lead. [image] Kurt heading up into the crux chimney. [image] A view upwards from our belay. There were a few vertical sections of the chimney, and Kurt moved very slowly upwards. It was a real search for trustworthy gear. Feet looked terrible. The crux section involved finding tool placements in a jumble of frozen rocks and trusting body weight to this. This was the only section of rotten rock on the entire climb that we encountered and each of us would knock off some rock at this point. [image] Kurt approaching the crux moves. Eventually, Kurt made it over the lip and continued up to a belay. Michael followed first. Just as he was entering the crux, he shouted back to me, "look at Stuart!" [image] Goodnight Stewie! I chuckled at both the ridiculous situation we were in and the ridiculous beauty of the setting. Here we were, 800 ft up a random face in the mountains, climbing up snow covered rock with our tools and crampons, watching the sun go down. Unlike most of my adventures, this one was not scripted, not in the least. It was pure serendipity. We did not know what was around each corner, or where this would even lead us. Follow the weaknesses. Take what the mountain gives you. In the impending darkness, there was but one way: up. The crux section of this chimney was very challenging, harder than the first chimney. It was leaning, slabby, and slightly overhung. Luckily, I had discovered a new way of carrying the annoying pole: clipping it to my harness and dragging it behind me. At the crux, my feet kept blowing, but I clung to my tools and desperately kept inching upwards. Finally, I made it. At the belay station, we briefly discussed whether to continue upwards or head down. From this point, we felt it would be pretty easy to rappel the route on tree anchors. After another 30 minutes, it was not going to get any darker, so we felt we might as well take our time and continue upwards. At this point, we gave the reigns completely to Kurt. Kurt has made first ascents of 6000m peaks in the Himalaya in addition to huge alpine climbs in Alaska in the Canadian Rockies. Although Michael is a very talented mixed climber and I am a solid follower, it was great to have someone like Kurt along. I was constantly impressed by his decisiveness, efficiency, and most importantly, commitment to safety. He never cut corners. He always made good belays for us, even in easy terrain. He was efficient but never rushed. The next pitch brought us across an improbable snow ledge above cliffs and then up a narrow slot to a broader snowfield. With a foot less snow, I am not sure Kurt could have stamped out flat steps. In the darkness, it felt truly epic. [image] What a spicy traverse! We were now staring up at a large snowfield on the left shoulder of the face. We were probably on the upper east face. We did a long pitch, with some simul climbing. It was mostly snow, but there still some very tenuous slabs covered in snow to navigate. We arrived at the base of a dark, vertical headwall. We surmised that we were actually higher than any point we could see from below. There might have been a chimney we could climb, but we were done with hard mixed climbing at this point. Michael and I fully expected our climb to end here, but Kurt took us back right, traversing across a snowfield to peek around a corner. Here, a perfect rock ramp improbably lead up and right to the top. As I followed, gazing down into the abyss below and above, it felt like the alpine puzzle had been finally solved. We celebrated on top of our little summit. In the darkness, we could see that the true East summit of Esmerelda was still a hundred or two hundred feet higher, separated by a nasty ridge of snow covered gendarmes. We had vaguely hoped we could top out and walk down the southern aspect, but that hope quickly vanished. We were going to have to descend the route we came up, but at least we knew what we were in for. [image] Summit stoke! It was 7 pm, and we we knew we were in for a long night. I had about one liter of water all day, expecting to be back at the car by dark. All of us were basically out of water and food. But as an alpinist, you have to be ready for a little suffering when a golden opportunity presents itself. Seize the day, or night in our case. On the entire climb and descent, we were blessed by absolutely perfect weather. Temperatures were comfortable, the sky was clear, and there was not a hint of a breeze. Michael and I sat on the summit, watching the moonrise over the Stuart Range, as Kurt down led the final pitch to the summit block. Michael was in absolute ecstasy. He loves this shit. [image] Moon over Stuart. We reversed our ascent route nearly exactly. We downclimbed a few of the traversing pitches and otherwise made 7 full 60m rappels off of tree anchors. With three of us, we were hyper efficient. At one point, I was still belaying Kurt downclimbing above me while Michael was already rappelling the next pitch. With fair temps, a bright moon, and convenient trees, the descent was almost pleasant. Michael led us down the entire way. We finally put away our gear at 10pm and followed our snowy footsteps back to the river (and downed a ton of water), the trail, and the road. It was a death march out on the road, but we made it back to my car at midnight. A pair of male elk with giant antlers threatened to derail our drive back, but I reacted quickly enough and we made it back without incident. Sadly, it was not the first time I have driven around Cle Elum at 1 am, searching for an open gas station for a little food in futility. Finally, at 2:30 am, I crawled into bed. We decided to name our route Moonlight Serendipity (WI2, M5+, 1200'). It was truly a serendipitous day, one that began with the lowest of expectations but delivered an incredible adventure. Generally, I feel like I am very risk adverse with planning objectives in the mountains. I do not mean "risk" in the normal sense of injury / death. I mean risk of failure, risk of plans not working out. I usually choose "safe" objectives like high routes that I know will work out some way, ice climbs I know are likely in condition, ski tours that hold plenty of easy bail options, or rock climbs I know I can get up without problems. From time to time, it is good to open myself up to the possibility of failure. If I cannot tolerate failure, I will never push my comfort zone and grow. In this case, we got really lucky and succeeded, but we had no expectations of success and were okay with that. It was a true, improvisational, unscripted adventure. We kept our eyes open, followed the line of weakness, and took it one step at a time. In a world of beta overload, satellite imagery, and no more secrets, it was a total throwback. We loved it. Most significantly, this was my first real alpine climb since my accident on Sloan nearly two years ago. For Kurt, it was his first alpine climb since fracturing his pelvis and moving to Washington. Neither of us are in our tip top shape, both mentally and physically, but ultimately it is not the grandness of the send but the power of the experience and partnerships that matter. It is a first step, and a big one at that. Throughout the climb, I felt gradually less nervous. Early on, I expressed that I was not comfortable leading any mixed pitches and would take on the follower role. I know now it is okay to express weakness and fear but still be a contributing member of a team. It was really a privilege to get to follow two super talented climbers on an adventure like this and ease my way back into alpine climbing. While I know I have nothing to prove to others anymore, I have proven to myself at least that I can balance fear and ambition, and there can be more adventures like this in my future. Route Beta: Moonlight Serendipity (WI2, M5+, 1200') is on the NE Face of East Esmerelda. We have found no reports of climbing on this face, although we would not be surprised if climbing has occurred. The east face gully, described as a rock climb, is in the Beckey Guide. Approach: Very simple and short from the Esmerelda Trailhead. After about half mile on trail, cross the stream and pick your way up to the center of the face. In the winter, you will need a snowmobile to get to the trailhead, although you could ski if you really wanted. [image] A few of our route, with the first few pitches out of frame. This summer image shows the full extent: [image] Credit: https://farm2.staticflickr.com/1695/25007941033_8df8fd5f03_o.jpg [image] A rough GPX track. Conditions: We guess that this route could found be in much fatter conditions, especially in late winter. The chimney systems could funnel melt water and freeze into fat ice. However, the lower pitches might get fully buried in snow. A more direct route than our following the dike weakness the entire way would likely be possible in such conditions. This fall has been average, at best, for alpine ice conditions. In reality, it is probably a below average fall. A foot or two of snow really helped us up high on the route, so I would not attempt this route until a bit of snow has fallen up high. Gear: Single rack .1-3 cams, nuts, beaks, KB's and a Spectre came in handy. Screws were not required for the conditions we encountered. 10 cm and 13 cm screws would be best. Grade: I do not know much about mixed grades, so I deferred to Michael and Kurt here. They felt the first chimney was about M5 and the second was a little harder, like M5+ or 6-. Compared to Wayne's World, our local dry tool crag, the climbing was much less steep but much less secure. The style was so different that it was challenging to compare. The climbing was more comparable to the Cougar Mountain dry tool crag. However, the cruxes were definitely harder than the M4+ climbs at Cougar. Descent: A bunch of rappels and downclimbing. Definitely bring twin 60m ropes.

Edwardian Couloir A steep South facing couloir off Mt. Edwards. This is an extreme line with high avalanche danger, and it should only be skied in safe conditions. Maps *All Mapped Areas are Approximations Trailheads Peru Creek Trailhead Websites Front Range Ski Mountaineering Guide Books Classic Colorado Ski Descents by Jon Kedrowski[image] (Links to guidebooks may be affiliate links) Find Nearby Zones *All Mapped Areas are Approximations tagged: Clear Creek County, Front Range

Whitman Crest ski and camping in Ohanapecosh Whitman Crest is one of those peaks that is perfect for spring skiing in Mount Rainier National Park. With ski touring options of every side and glaciers off 3 sides of the mountain you can find turns any month of the year. With the White River road plowed out we decided to set up camp in Ohanapecosh and explore the surround area over two nights. Being a relatively quite area for ski descents off the South side it would be the perfect area to explore. A Little Bit of Info About Whitman Crest Whitman Crest is a high point on the eastern side of Mount Rainier National Park separating the Fryingpan and Whitman Glaciers. At a summit elevation of 9,323 ft it is just east of Little Tahoma and can be accessed via Summerland trail and Paradise Visitor Center. It was named after Marcus Whitman who was an early missionary to the Pacific Northwest. [iframe] Heading up Fryingpan Creek Summer Trail Through Summerland Arriving at the Ranger Station we signed our camping permits and set off for the Summerland Trail. Though I had been in the Ohanapecosh area once before it had been a quick and cloudy day. Hiking on the summer trail we finally reached snowline at the base of the alpine. Following the easy contours of the terrain we did a low angle traverse over Fryingpan Gap. Once on the Gap we scoped around for a camping spot. A few hundred feet below the pass we found the perfect spot to set up tent that would link up with our skin track after riding Whitman Peak. The area offered great views and numerous options for places to ski tour so we dropped off all our overnight gear before heading for the summit. [image] Skinning up Ohanapecosh Basin with the Cowlitz Chimneys in the background Making our way up the Fryingpan Glacier the peak quickly came into view. Looking on the Southside we could tell that our line went all the way to Indian Bar. It was a stunning day with clear skies and no wind heading onto the upper slopes of Whitman Crest. [image] Looking up at Whitman Crest with Ohanapecosh to the left From the summit we had a stunning view of Little Tahoma and the Ingraham Glacier on Mount Rainier to the West. To the Northwest we were looking out among the Emmons Glacier and Steamboat Prow which is the high point of the Interglacier. To the Southeast was the Sunrise Vistor Center and Mount Aix in the far distance. After soaking in the views it was time to ride the Southeast face of Whitman Peak down onto the Ohanapecosh Glacier. Snowboarding Down Whitman Crest to the Ohanapecosh Glacier The upper face was low angle, dropping in to find amazing corn conditions. Soon enough we made it over to the upper steep face of the Ohanapecosh Glacier. Once we were sure the lower route went we rode all the way down to Indian Bar with all of it in great conditions. [image] Ben riding our 3000 foot run off Whitman Crest towards Ohanapecosh Once down at Indian Bar it was time to transition and start skinning back to camp. We had already spotted our ascent route from camp and made our way over to the area following a mellow ridge. [image] Making our way back to camp Once back at camp we rested for a while melting down snow and eating food. After an hour we made our way to one of the lower peaks and took an afternoon lap. After the run it was time to head back to camp. As the sun set we took in an amazing light show before heading to bed. Heading Over to Banshee Peak The next morning we woke up and made a plan to head over to Banshee Peak. We knew there was a great couloir off the East side and wanted to see if it was still filled in. We would leave our camping gear where it was a retrieve it later in the day for our descent back to the car. [image] Skinning over to Banshee Peak Once on top of Banshee Peak we looked at the line we were going for and it was melted out. With it being a beautiful day we hung out in the sun and took in the view of Mount Rainier. From our vantage point we had a clear view of the terrain I had covered on the 2nd day of the Paradise to Crystal Mountain. After a while it was time to heading back to camp and breaking it down. [image] Stunning view of Mount Rainier Our Exit via Fryingpan Gap After packing up camp it was time to head back to the the Summerland Trail. We made up to Fryingpan Gap and transitioned for our final descent. Looking to the west we had a great view of the bowl Hummel and I rode during the Paradise to Crystal Traverse, the Emmons Glacier and Mount Ruth on the right side of the photo below. [image] Heading over Frying Pan Gap Riding down was brutal with our heavy packs. By now the snow had turned to slush which was adding to the difficulty. After 30 minute we had rode down to the bridge below Summerland. After crossing we were back on the summer trail. [image] Heading back down Frying Pan Creek Descending down the trail we finally got made it out off snow and on a well maintained trail. The last 3 miles were a breeze as we covered the ground fast. Finally we were back at the car and celebrating. It was a great trip out to Whitman Crest and ski touring around Ohanapecosh. [image] Hiking back down Frying Pan Creek In Conclusion The whole area around Whitman Crest is a great spring ski tour. It can be accessed from both Paradise Visitor Center and White River Road. In my opinion the latter is the better option as the ski line is much better but it is a longer approach. Which ever approach you decide, as long as the weather is good it has stunning views of Mount Rainier National Park. I highly recommend this ski tour especially if you are looking for an alternative to the Interglacier. Thank you for reading our camping trip and want to see more ski tours within Mount Rainier Backcountry check out this link

Schooling Mt. Princeton (14,197') July 15, 2012 by Collin Tilbe2 Comments [image] View of the ridge and Princeton's summit Dave Gardner and I had planned on continuing our assault on the Sawatch Range by attempting Mt. Princeton (14,197') on July 14th, 2012. I was worried about Princeton's infamous road (for good reason!) and was hoping we could take Dave's Jeep to make things a little more manageable. Friday night I got a text from Dave letting me know he couldn't make it. I was pretty hungry to tackle Princeton and decided to go solo. I figured if the road gave me trouble I'd hike the trail and see where things went from there. I left Denver around 5:30am and made the familiar drive to Buena Vista and by 7:30 I was at the lower trailhead. I put my Hyundai Santa Fe in AWD and headed up the road. The road itself wasn't too bad since it was bone dry, but as I headed up I muttered to myself "this would be amessin the rain." Call me psychic but I had no idea I had just predicted what was to come. I made it to the radio towers around 8am and found most of the parking spots full. Not willing to chance the road any higher I managed to squeeze into a spot next to the high tower, however I knew I wouldn't be able to turn around when I got back which would make for an interesting ride down. For now I put that out of my mind and began the ascent at 8:15. The ascent starts up the road... I hate road climbing, it's boring but I wasn't feeling strong enough to run so I tried to keep a brisk pace. Eventually I made it to where the trail breaks off the road and began the traverse along Princeton's east slope. It was here my second wind kicked in and I began pushing hard towards the ridge and ultimately the summit. The final push to the summit was steep and really punched me in the mouth, but after an 1:43 I was at the summit. [image] Summit shot looking out over Chaffee County [image] Antero in the back drop The descent from the summit was loose and required some care but I made good time back to the traverse. Once I hit the road I began a light jog which shaved off some precious minutes. Minutes I would later realize were the difference between staying dry and getting soaked. I made it to the car with a round-trip time of 2:58, just under 3 hours and boy was I stoked. However, now my focus turned to my car situation. With no room to turn around I knew my only option was to back down the road. Carefully I made my way around a bend and back to the lots at the lower radio tower where I was able to rurn around and head forward down the road. Almost immediately after I turned around I was met with the brake lights of a truck stopped in front of me. There was another truck trying to head up the road and we were at a stand-still. It was at this moment that my prophecy came to fruition, the sky opened up, and it began to pour! [video] After a short wait, the ascenders began to impressively back down the road for about a quarter-mile before we were able to pass. The rest of the drive down was uneventful and I had notched my 25th 14er.

Monday, October 9, 2017 OR -- La Grande and Rufus, 30 Sep-6 Oct 2017 [image] Three days in La Grande, Oregon... [image] Why we came... Truck maintenance! The campground... Grande Hot Springs RV Resort is great. All of the sites are long, mostly level, gravel pull-throughs with decent space between neighbors. We had full hook-ups and no problem getting satellite TV. The Verizon cell phone was a steady and reliable 2-3 bar LTE. Wi-fi was usually decent but slowed considerably with heavy usage. There is a small pool and hot tub that are very pleasant. There are two laundry rooms with 2-3 washers and dryers that cost $1.50 each. The facilities were well maintained and kept clean. Though a few trains cruised nearby a few times a day, they never tooted. Otherwise, it was quite peaceful. We liked the location and were comfortable. We'd gladly return! [image] [image] It's fall in the Grande Ronde Valley / Enjoying a hot soak at the RV park Nearby towns... La Grande, population roughly 13,000 and elevation 2,785 feet, is just the right size for us. It has a super Walmart and a nice Safeway. There is also a good selection of restaurants. The people were friendly and we felt welcomed. The setting in the Grande Ronde Valley is also very pretty. It's wedged between the Blue Mountains to the west and Wallowa Mountains to the east. There are miles of trails, great fishing in streams and lakes, great hunting, and a couple of small ski areas. The area is an outdoors paradise! The similar sized towns of Pendleton, 60 miles to the northwest, and Baker City, 40 miles to the south, offer similar services, stores, and restaurants. Truck Maintenance... We took our truck to Integrity Motors for in issue we had in June. Mike, Tara, and Sean had taken very good care of us despite a complicated situation. So when our truck flashed a "check engine" light with some engine hesitation, we were thankful they could fit us into their schedule. We juggled our schedule so we could return to La Grande. Coincidently, it was on our way from Joseph to Rufus. Adventures... Bike rides... We dropped the truck off first thing Monday morning. This provided Arleen and I with an adventure opportunity. We unloaded the bikes at the auto shop and bundled up for a chilly ride back to the campground. The temperature was in the low 40s with patchy fog. Thankfully, the winds were calm. We stopped at the airport to warm up and to capture a couple of cool pictures. Then we had to wait on a freight train. They rumble through this area regularly. The next day, I rode my bike back to the auto shop to get the truck. It was a slow, energy sapping ride into a head wind. It was an opportunity to get us into cold weather riding shape. We hope to do some of that on the Olympia Peninsula this winter. [image] [image] Bike route from Integrity Auto to the RV park / Northwood: Where our trailer was made! [image] Morning fog on the runway. It was chilly. [image] Toot, toot! Mushroom hunting... We had read on the Oregon mycological society web page that they were finding chanterelle mushrooms in the La Pine area. Hmmm... The Blue Mountains west of La Grande received 3-4 inches of precipitation in the last few weeks. Since we were detoured to La Grande for a few days, we took advantage of the situation to go on a mushroom hunt in the nearby mountains. We drove up Highway I-84 on a rain showery day. We parked on one of the forest service roads and started walking up an old logging road. We were surrounded by some spruce and larch but it was primarily lodge pole. We don't like mushroom hunting in lodge pole forests. It's not a pretty tree and it grows so thick it's a pain to walk through. Plus, we have never found our edible mushrooms growing amongst them. Still it felt good to be back in the woods with a purpose. We walked around for an hour covering a few miles. Our calves and boots got soaked from walking through the drenched underbrush. Sadly, we did not even see an LBM (little brown mushroom). The area looked great with moss everywhere. Maybe, we were too early? Maybe, the summer was just too dry and there would not be a flush this year? Or maybe we were just in the wrong spot? It's hard to pin point the theories unless you live in an area for several years. Soon we will be on the Oregon coast where we are confident we will find some edible treasures! [image] [image] Mushroom hunting route in the Blue Mountains near La Grande / We like the moss on the ponderosas [image] Keeping an eye on the ground for edible mushrooms. Didn't find any. Three days in Le Page Park near Rufus, Oregon... [image] Why we came... To kayak and fish the John Day River and explore the area. The campground... Le Page Park is very nice. It sits at the confluence of the John Day and Columbia Rivers. It has a selection of back-in sites and pull-throughs. The pull-throughs parallel the John Day River and provide great views. The views from the back-ins aren't as good, but they are more peaceful because highway and train noise is muted. The sites are all paved and fairly level. Each site has water and electric. There is a dump station at the campground entrance. There is no wi-fi and just a very weak and unreliable Verizon cell phone signal. The cell signal improved at the north end of the campground towards the highway. Le Page Park includes a good boat ramp, nice park, and a swim beach. The area is popular when the salmon are running. It's another great facility run by the Army Corps of Engineers. [image] [image] Lewis and Clark passed through here on 21 Oct 1805 / Our view of the John Day River [image] [image] The view from the river / Nice camp sites Nearby towns... Rufus, population 249 and elevation 235 feet, is the closest town, just five miles to the southwest. There isn't much to it. The Dalles, population 13,620 and 109 feet, is the largest supply and service center in the area and is 30 miles to the southwest. Adventures... Kayaking adventure... The Le Page Campground location begged us to launch our kayaks. We drove a few yards over to the day park side and did just that immediately after setting up. This was Arleen's first time in a kayak in six months. She was so happy to be back in the water. She launched into the John Day River and immediately paddled over into the mighty Columbia! She jokingly said she was just going to float all the way to Fort Stevens. The area at the confluence of the John Day and the Columbia looks a lot different now than it did during the days of Lewis and Clark in 1805. Clark noted at the time, "passed a verry bad rapid at 2 miles, this rapid is Crouded with Islands of bad rocks dificuelt & crooked passage". Since then the John Day Dam was built from 1958 to 1971. Now, the Columbia is more like a lake with only a slow current. I fished along the rocky bank of the Columbia. Then we worked up the west, weedy shore of the John Day. Though I failed to tempt any fish, we enjoyed watching geese and Great Blue Herons. Arleen and I thoroughly enjoyed the afternoon together out on the river. [image] [image] Kayak route on the John Day and Columbia Rivers / Fishing the John Day River in front of our home [image] Headed under the highway bridge and out to the Columbia River [image] On the Columbia River and looking towards the train and highway bridges that cross the John Day River [image] Looking downstream towards the John Day Dam and Mount Hood [image] Fishing the mighty Columbia River. Didn't get any bites. [image] Posing near the railroad bridge Oregon Trail Monument... We like to walk in the footsteps of early pioneers. Reading firsthand accounts gives us such an appreciation for our modern day luxuries. We drove across the plateau above the Columbia River Gorge. The only things up there were vast fields of cut wheat, large wind generators twisting slowly in the breeze, and isolated farm houses. Some of the views were extensive. Mount Hood and Mount Adams often loomed in distance. We dropped down the Grass Valley Canyon to McDonald. There, on the west bank of the John Day River, is an Oregon Trail Memorial. "1843- OLD OREGON TRAIL FORD-1863 Emigrants on the old Oregon Trail Forded the John Day River near this spot from 1943 to 1863. Thomas Scott established a ferry near here in 1858. Daniel G Leonard built a bridge near here in 1866. Thousands of settlers passed this way until completion of the railroad in 1884." On the west bank, pioneers had a choice to make a left and go to The Dalles. But as one pioneer noted, "Our train separated here. The rest are going to down to The Dalles, where they can ship down the Columbia and avoid rough mountains, but they will pay dear for their ride." S.B. Eakin, Jr. A lot of the pioneers took one of two routes to climb the plateau there. It was not easy, "We ascended one of the most difficult hills we have met on the while weary journey across the plains. One huge rock after another blocked the road, rendering it almost impassable." Esther Belle McMillan Hanna After a quick stop at the trail crossing marker, we continued on to the main destination of the day. [image] [image] Oregon Trail Monument at the John Day crossing. Mile 1,755 on the trail...almost there! Hike in Cottonwood Canyon State Park... We were going to stay at Cottonwood Canyon State Park. However, the park does not have any hookups and we were afraid that some folks would be using loud generators. We have solar panels that power everything except the microwave and air conditioner. We like to boon dock in areas that do not allow generators. It makes for a more peaceful experience. Cottonwood is remote. It is 25 miles from the closest town. We took the winding Wasco-Heppner Highway to get there. The park consists of 8,000 acres along the John Day River. The area had been the Murtha Ranch since the 1930s. In 2008, the Western Rivers Conservancy bought the land. In 2013, the Oregon Parks and Recreation Department purchased the land, for the same price, to create the state's second largest state park. Hiking, camping, fishing, and river rafting are some of the activities in the park. There is a campground with 21 primitive sites and 7 sites for hikers and bikers. We were greeted by the old ranch barn as we pulled into the park. We could see about 10 cars parked across the river near the horse trailhead. We parked near the campground at the Pinnacles trailhead. We were surprised not to hear any generators. Now we had some regrets about not staying at this scenic isolated location. Tall basalt cliffs border the river on both sides. The trail runs along the south shore of the river on an old road bed. We had a perfect view down into the river and spotted smallmouth bass and carp. Salmon, steelhead, and catfish also swim in the river. We spotted cliff swallow nests under an overhang. Their "gourd-shaped structures" are built bit by bit with mud and lined with feathers by the small birds. We had a good 6 mile hike along the river. It is just one of many hikes in the area. [image] [image] Hike route on the Pinnacles Trail along the John Day River in Cottonwood Canyon SP / Beginning our trek [image] The Murtha Ranch was established here in the 1930s [image] A nice trail with dramatic scenery [image] Some vibrant fall colors along the river [image] [image] Cliff swallow homes / Taking a peaceful break Where we got our mail [image] Rufus, Oregon Post Office

Svalbard 2016 Trip Report and Photo Album Andrew McLean | June 10, 2016 Ice Axe Expeditions Arctic Circle Ski & Sail - Trip Report For more information on this trip, or similar skiing adventures in Antarctica, contact Ice Axe Expeditions out of Truckee, CA. www.iceaxe.tv Week One - May 15-22, 2016 May 15th - Set sail from LYR. Met with Stein/Helga and went over the general plan, which is to go as far north as possible (12 hours) to get up into the Krossfjorden area. [image] Casting off on the good ship Arctica II while flying the Ice Axe flag. Met everyone at the airport at around 2:00pm, shuttled gear to the dock, then went into town for some snacks. Returned to the boat, sorted gear, did a safety briefing, returned the excess gear to the shed, then returned to the ship and got underway at 5:15pm. Smooth seas, milky weather. May 16 - Dronning Mauds Peak Spent the night motoring up Kongsfjord and made it to Lilliehookfjorden at about 7:00am. Nice and calm, but very low snow. Most of the couloirs on Landskiper island are very melted out. [image] Anne heading down to the Zodiac for the first trip of the day. Toured up through some isothermal snow, and then got into a beautiful face on Dronning Maud peak. Summited on skins via the south ridge line and took two runs down a beautiful glacier run with a wild moulin right in the middle of it. North facing snow was excellent - recrystalized power, 3″ deep, low angle and floaty. Fun! Skinned back up, tried a variation due north to the Forbesbreen glacier, but got shut down due to steep roll overs, so we did a second lap on the same run, then skinned back up. [image] Willy schralping pow. [image] Dinner is served. Way better than hanging out in a moist tent! Last run of the day was also excellent - south facing off of Dronning Maud peak back to the boat with a bit of booting in the end. Saw a trio of frisky reindeer and some old bones. Nice cove for anchorage. May 17 - Krossfjorden Saw Sky Dancer last night and had a good time mooning them and later visiting. Spent a nice, calm night in Signehamna Bay, then motored over to a west facing couloir on Landskiper Island. Kind of grey, but a fun 2,246' line. About 45 degrees and bit firm, but overall a fun outing. Named it Asymptote Couloir - a point which can never actually be reached. Got back on the boat and went to the north end of Lilliehookfjorden for a spectacular lunch (thanks Helga!) to view the ice falls. [image] Storming the beaches with Helga, Scott and John. [image] John in the open bowl above a nice couloir. After lunch, cruised for about 1.5 hours over to Tinayrebukta Bay, set anchor and skied up on the Festefjelet glacier. Absolutely excellent spot - tons of variety from long cruisers to steep couloirs. Skinned up past a mini series of crevasses (no rope needed) then rolled into a beautiful head wall. Near the top, TO branched right with a group and I went up a short booster with Scott, Alex and Willy. Unbelievable view from the summit ridge line! Spectacular glaciers valleys in the back, icefalls, jagged peaks, sun, wind, snow, etc.. Had a fun run down a nice semi couloir, then went back up our skinner and traded couloirs with TO. Amazing glacier run all the way down to a perfect Zodiac landing on a sandy beach. Hard to beat - 5 star. [image] An incredible day of touring and skiing. [image] Topping out on one of many beautiful peaks. 3,844' in the afternoon, 2,246' in the morning = 6,090' total. May 18 - Krossfjorden Motored back to the calm bay from the previous night and had another mellow, but windy evening. After a later start and big breakfast, we motored back to the same Feisterfelt area to ski the adjoining glacier, but it was a cold night and the snow was firm. TO and others went up a couloir, while James and I did a glacier lap, then up/down another glacier. Fun cruising and 2,400'. Saw some old Ice Bear tracks. [image] JC heading up a valley. A few minutes later we crossed Polar Bear tracks. [image] JC skiing down. Came back to the boat, had some hot lunch and proceeded to motor down to Ny-Alesund which is about 2 hours away. Had a nice long motor down to Ny-Alesund and arrived at about 9:00pm. Blew up the SUP and Elizabeth took it out while TO, James and I went ashore for a cool hike next to a glacier. May 19 - Kongsfjorden Started with a 6:00am boat move and a one hour transit to get to the skiing. Went up Gonietoppen peak with six people, which turned out to be quite steep near the top. Carefully worked our way down the top section, then skied the lower section. Beautiful peak. [image] Booting up a sustained ridge. [image] What skiing in Svalbard is all about. Went back to the boat for lunch (excellent) then toured up Pedersenbreen glacier. Climbed and skied a 3k couloir - nice one. This is an excellent landing site - tons of terrain, lots of options. [image] Evening light, although "evening" is a relative term up here. At night, you can hear the seals howling through the steel hull - it kind of reminds me of coyotes, except the seals have a long, low "OoooooOOOooooo" sound. [image] Alex, Willy and EK in the cockpit. May 20 - Midtre Lovenbreen Glacier (Kongsfjord) Did another "boat alarm" for a wake up where the boat started moving at 6:00am and then we anchored and had breakfast at 7:00. Got off the boat and made it to a nice landing at the toe of the Midtre Lovenbreen glacier, which is just southwest of the town of Ny-Alesund. Great glacier and skiing, with some steel pole markers in the middle of the glaciers and on some of the ridgelines. [image] JC with the Tre Kroner (Three Kings) in the background. [image] JC skiing. The glacier has a long (hour +) approach, but gets into some really nice terrain in the upper elevations, including lots of pocket glaciers, which gives the area almost 360 degrees of aspect for skiing options. TO & Co. rounded a corner and booted up Slatofjellet peak (583m). There is a great little solar radiating pocket glacier up here that produced some good corn in the middle of endless ice. While TO lapped it, James and I booted up a ridge - incredible views of the Tre Kroner (Three Crowns) off in the distance and really nice skiing back down. [image] Anne looking fresh after three laps. [image] Apre ski Svalbard style. Took turns hanging out at the bottom while others took various laps. Fun area for lap skiing. Afterwards, TO skied back to the boat while others went up for a 300' final lap. May 21 - Barentsberg Motored a few hours south last night to (???) and set anchor with the intention of getting some skiing in if the weather was good in the morning, which it was not. Universal agreement to not go skiing, but instead keep traveling south and visit Barentsberg, which turned out to be great. The town is surreal - a massive indoor swimming pool, old decaying buildings, a weird twist on international politics (the Russian claim to Svalbard) and a bar. We went to the "new" bar, but apparently it is better to go to the old bar at the hotel. [image] Barentsberg with an old phone and a very cool boat. I really wanted a tour of this vessel. [image] TO versus Scott at the Barentsberg arm wrestling table. Had dinner at the dock, then motored back to LYR, which we expect to hit at about midnight. [image] Lenin looking over Barentsberg. [image] Willie chatting on the phone while a huge red bear sniffs his, uhmm, pants. May 22 - Longyearbyen Dropped Group One off at the airport in the morning, picked up Group Two and spent the night in the LYR Radisson. [image] I think I blew my shoulders out trying to hang off of Nick (left) and Scott (right). I'm 5' 10″ (177cm). WEEK TWO May 23 - LYR transit Got everyone aboard at about 2:00pm, did the safety briefing, hung out and then headed out at about 5:00pm. May 24 - Snodomen An aborted attempt on Snodomen due to low snow and warm temps which made for some cracky glaciers and weak snow bridges. Everybody rallied and we did another lap with most of the people, then a third with Skip, EK and Jeremy. Overall, an exciting day that finished with some fun skiing. [image] Beachside filming. [image] EK, aka Annie Oakley of the far north. May 25 - Blomstrandbreen Bay and Glacier Started out as a greybird day. Went up a tight moraine valley just to the west of the Blomstradebreen glacier (excellent landing spot) and basically wrapped around the end of a long ridge and up towards Nordvagfellet peak, but didn't quite make it due to very flat light and cloud cover at about 2,000'. Followed our faint skin/pole track back. [image] Skiing in a white-out. Came back to the boat for lunch (Thai soup!) then moved the boat to the west to climb and ski the high point of Bloomstrandhalvoya (?) island. Excellent! Really fun skin up the east ridge, then skied down the main bowl/couloir on the east face - steep and sustained. Did some filming and later some paddle boarding. [image] Topping out on the high point of a small island. [image] About to drop in with the Arctica II below. [image] Helga and Stein serving up apps. 2,000' in the morning and 1,300' in the afternoon. May 26 - Trongdalen Valley Cruised up a loong valley over gentle flats, creeks, past grazing reindeer, into a tight gully and up a lateral morain in heavy mist for about an hour and maybe 500' of gain. Finally made it to the base of a couloir, which turned out to be a pile of isothermal mush. TO & Co. made a go at it and turned back. A group of four of us went around and skinned up to the head of the valley and found a nice cirque. Skinned up to a ridge and hit a cool little summit (568m) with a good fall line down - carveable corn. Went up the adjacent peak, which turned out to excellent skiing. We did two laps up it, but ended up being totally soaking wet. Half rain, half snow. Fun skiing, but super hard to see. Made a long trip back to the boat with lots of poling. This would be a great place in good weather. 3,700' of climb/ski. May 27 - St. Jonsfjorden Woke up at 7:00am to almost no wind, then it was like a switch was thrown and it started howling. Very strong winds, and then... rain. Lots of it. Hung out in Signeheim (?) harbor for a while, then pulled anchor and motored down to St. James. Lots of rough seas, but not too bad. The weather is predicted to be 24+ hours of southerly winds, which means warm and wet. No skiing today. [image] Miles Clark and TO in the aft berth. May 28 - Transit down Kongsfjord to Pyramiden A long haul with rough seas, but once again, the weather in the morning was overcast, rainy and very windy. The south/SW systems up here are very bad for skiing - worth avoiding if you see one in the forecast. [image] The last bucket of coal taken from the Pyramiden mine. [image] Doing our best to look serious and professional. Had a very fun tour of Pyramiden, then came back to the boat for a good dinner and made plans to ski a nice little pyramid peak tomorrow. May 29 - Billefjorden Had a great tour through Pyramiden last night, then left the dock at about 7:30am and motored for about 30 minutes to a 867m peak neat Campbellryggen. Skinned about half of it, then booted (no crampons) up the rest. Great peak with tons of potential, but the clouds were right at the 1k level, so we just reversed our track back down and returned to the boat. [image] Matt and Todd in a summit cloud. [image] Heading back to the boat after lap one. Had lunch, moved a few km SW to the terminus of the Mathlesondalen drainage. Some cool old ruins. We started way too far to the north, but eventually worked our way into the main drainage, but stayed high on a ridge due to solar warming. Kind of tough skinning, but we eventually made to a 740m peak which was a fantastic summit, plus had some very good skiing. We were able to skin 99% of the way, then booted the last 100' to the top. Lots of views and very skiable. [image] Paul topping out. [image] Skip doing some ridge hopping. Came back to the boat, moved across the fjord and had a delicious dinner in Skanbukta bay. Lots of reindeer and two trips up the mast. Started motoring towards LYR at 10:30pm. May 30 - LYR to Oslo Tried to tie up at the dock, but it was full, so we motored out a ways and set anchor. Some midnight (or later?) swimming, then went to the dock and unloaded in the morning. Photo Album - Svalbard 2016 with Ice Axe Expeditions [image] Pointing out the benefits of carbon infused antiflatulance underwear. [image] Polar bears? Bring'em on. [image] TO modeling a Spitsbergen sweater. [image] Casting off on the good ship Arctica II while flying the Ice Axe flag. [image] Anne heading down to the Zodiac for the first trip of the day. [image] Willy schralping pow. [image] Dinner is served. Way better than hanging out in a moist tent! [image] Storming the beaches with Helga, Scott and John. [image] John in the open bowl above a nice couloir. [image] One of the few people who can make you laugh while checking your beacon... [image] An incredible day of touring and skiing. [image] Topping out on one of many beautiful peaks. [image] JC heading up a valley. A few minutes later we crossed Polar Bear tracks. [image] JC skiing down. [image] On the beach with Arctica II in the background. [image] Hiking attire Svalbard style. [image] TO and JC walking next to a large ice fall. [image] Booting up sustained ridge. [image] What skiing in Svalbard is all about. [image] Evening light, although "evening" is a relative term up here. At night, you can hear the seals howling through the steel hull - it kind of reminds me of coyotes, except the seals have a long, low "OoooooOOOooooo" sound. [image] Alex, Willy and EK in the cockpit. [image] JC with the Tre Kroner (Three Kings) in the background. [image] JC skiing. [image] Anne looking fresh after three laps. [image] Apre ski Svalbard style. [image] Barentsberg with an old phone and a very cool boat. I really wanted a tour of this vessel. [image] TO versus Scott at the Barentsberg arm wrestling table. [image] Lenin looking over Barentsberg. [image] Willie chatting on the phone while a huge red bear sniffs his, uhmm, pants. [image] Back at the dock after the first week. [image] I think I blew my shoulders out trying to hang off of Nick (left) and Scott (right). [image] [image] [image] Welcome to Longyearbyen - please don't bring your guns into the bank. [image] [image] [image] Beachside filming. [image] EK, aka Annie Oakley of the far north. [image] [image] Skiing in a white-out. [image] Topping out on the high point of a small island. [image] [image] About to drop in with the Arctica II below. [image] Helga and Stein serving up apps. [image] [image] [image] Bergie bits. [image] [image] Random cool artwork in Pyramiden. [image] The last bucket of coal taken from the Pyramiden mine. [image] [image] New friends at the Pyramiden bar. [image] Doing our best to look serious and professional. [image] Gary leading the pack. [image] Matt and Todd in a summit cloud. [image] Heading back to the boat after lap one. [image] Jeremy topping out. [image] EK topping out. [image] Paul topping out. [image] Skip topping out while wearing his trademark smile. [image] Working the cat ramp. [image] Miles blowing chunks. [image] Skip doing some ridge hopping. [image] Todd making a few last turns. [image] Todd working a ridgeline.

Mt. Ouray East Ridge - Class 2 Mt. Ouray is perfect for dogs. It was a gentle Class 1+ hike with grassy slopes and little scree or sharp rocks. There were also plenty of opportunities for water... not to mention no other people. Partners: Kristi Henes, Max, Sophie Here is a link for the GPX file from our trip. GPX

Obstruction Point in Olympic National Park With weather in Washington looking sour for the Cascades we decided our best chance for weather would be the Olympics. kjkrow=Kyle (from splitboard.com), Dan (crstlextrm from TGR) and Myself Kyle Miller went out to Observation point for a four day tour. [iframe] Everyday at my work I watch the sunrises over the Olympic Mountains but never really head that direction. [image] The view from the Four Seasons in Seattle After work on Friday we all gathered up our gear and were heading towards Port Angeles by 4:00. After a long journey we made it up to Hurricane Ridge around sunset [image] Sunset as we Head off That night was a long trek in the dark on a sloped snow pack. We made it 6.5 of the 7.5 miles to Eagle Point and called it a night. [image] The snowbank we called home the first night [image] [image] From Eagle point you can see the sound The next morning we hiked the last mile out to observation point [image] Hiking across the alpine When we got there we dug out the bathroom and dropped off most of our gear inside. When we skinned up to the ridge we noticed a Solo Teleskier on top of a huge alpine bowl. [image] When he saw us he dropped in After some applause it was our turn [image] crstlextrm dropping into the warm up run [image] [image] [image] [image] [image] We rode all the way down to Badger Valley then skinned out towards Elk Point which had some nice chutes on the North side [image] [image] [image] [image] [image] The View of Port Angeles We had spotted the chute on our way up to Hurricane Ridge across the Valley [image] Its the Rocky area on the mid left side [image] [image] [image] [image] [image] [image] Then we finished it the day off with one last run into the badger Valley [image] [image] [image] [image] It had been a long hike so we rested for a few hours. For sunset we hiked up to obstruction point and watched the sunset before we rode back to basecamp [image] [image] [image] Day 3 Instead of heading North like we did on Day 2 we went South towards the Grand Valley. [image] We passed up 3 alpine bowls on our way to the Grand Valley so we could hit them on our way back. [image] [image] Dropping into the Grand Valley [image] [image] We only went a few hundred feet into the valley then skinned back up to the ridge. Our next run was a beast [image] [image] [image] [image] [image] [image] [image] [image] [image] [image] [image] [image] For our final run of the day Dan saw a ridge that he had wanted to ski [image] [image] [image] [image] [image] [image] [image] [image] [image] [image] [image] The last morning we woke up to rain and decided just to hike out instead of taking one last run. It turned out to be a good idea because when we got to the car it started Hailing and pouring [image] [image] The last morning we woke up to rain and decided just to hike out instead of taking one last run. It turned out to be a good idea because when we got to the car it started Hailing and pouring Thank you for reading and If you enjoyed reading this and want to see more ski tours abroad check out this link

Riding the Laundry Chute by Louie Dawson April 19, 2010 written by Louie Dawson April 19, 2010 I love skiing peaks that I can see as I go about daily life - it is special to glance up and remember how it felt to slide down that mountain in the distance. I can see Mount Sopris as I eat breakfast every morning, so I try to ski the big white shining behemoth at least once a year. The Laundry Chutes (on Sopris' small but technical nordwand) have always tempted me as I shovel down waffles and orange juice. Today I finally got to see what one of them is like, and it did not disappoint. [image] Anton scrambling up the base of the couloir, actually, I guess we should call this climbing. Perhaps a cover shot for Alpinist Magazine? Photo by Louie, click image to enlarge to full glory. We left the house at 2:45 AM, and fought side hills on our sleds (or at least I fought them, don't know about Jordan) to the snowmobile boundary. Although the forecast had called for a freezing level at 11,000 feet, frozen snow made for easy skinning. We clocked good time to Thomas Lakes, where we veered left toward the basin below the east Sopris summit (it has twin summits). After booting a short headwall, we continued up the low angled rock glacier with our objective staring us in the face. There is always a line of massive cornices at the top of these chutes, but today there looked to be a few spots that were free of the intimidating frozen waves. We chose the left chute, as it looked to have the least corniced entrance, and the smallest cliff at the bottom. After speeding along frozen corn on the approach, we encountered ankle deep pow as we skinned up the apron. Corn on the approach, pow on the steep stuff, fine with me! [image] The morning sun hits the Laundry Chutes as we skin toward the base. Photo by Louie, click image to enlarge. We were able to skin almost all the way to the base of the couloir, where we switched to crampons to negotiate the icy ramp that blocked the entrance. We wallowed to the base, and Jordan started up. The ice was centimeters thick, and shattered when you looked at it, so we tried to stay on the rock as much as possible. After a fun little climb, we encountered firmer snow in the chute. Perfect for booting. We made short work of the stair master, and turned our attention to getting out of the couloir. At the top all options looked equally rocky and loose, so we chose one and went for it (turned out to be a bit dicey). After gaining the ridge, I took a nice poo with a view, and continued toward the summit. [image] Anton smiling as he balances on loose rock, with me crouching below in missile avoidance posture. Photo by Jordan, click image to enlarge. Every time I've been on top of Sopris the wind has nearly blown me off, but this time we enjoyed a light breeze. We skied the narrow margin between rocks and cornice on the summit ridge, then headed down toward our couloir. Thankfully, we found a steep mini-chute so we could avoid down climbing through the rocks of our ascent route. Fun chalky powder turns were had in the chute. [image] Anton starting down the main couloir. Photo by Jordan, click image to enlarge. We paused just above the cliff blocking the exit. Although it was only five feet or so, the drop was low angled, with jagged rocks at the lip. Also, the landing was questionable as we'd encountered numerous holes and hollow snow as we were booting below it. Anton went first, sending it smoothly, and proceeded to shralp the pow on the apron. Next was Jordan, and then me. I hadn't jumped off anything since my knee surgery, but there was no way around it, and I definitely didn't want to down climb it. After a bit of sidestepping and poking around, I took a deep breath and pointed my skis at the rocks and went for it. The landing was feathery soft, it hardly even felt like I left the ground. Then there was the wide open apron full of powder. [image] Getting some pow below the couloir. Photo by Jordan, click to enlarge. We skied smooth corn down to Thomas Lakes, where we encountered the dreaded snirt. This must be like skiing the sand dunes; downhill with skins on. After skating and slogging where you'd normally glide, we reached our sleds and motored back to our trucks. Anton had been talking about White House Pizza since 5:00 am, and he promptly speeded off in pursuit of some carbs. Jordan and I followed suit.

"Lackawanna" Posted on May 8, 2017 | Leave a comment [image] South to La Plata from summit "Lackawanna" is a nondescript, unofficially-named centennial peak in the Mount Elbert area, just south of the road to Independence Pass. Unlike Oklahoma, which involves a long slog, Lackawanna is a quick couloir climb from the road. Its name, a Ute word for indifference or a shortage of enthusiasm, was bestowed by Chief Ouray when he passed through the area with a raiding party, and one of his braves dared him to climb the peak. He looked at the unexceptional hill surrounded by higher neighbors, then rode on, muttering "meh, lack a' wanna." [image] Looking down wrong couloir I woke up a bit before 6:00 in a pullout west of the La Plata trailhead, and started off across the road around 6:30. It is hard to get a good view of the mountains from the road, so I somewhat randomly bushwhacked to the base of what turned out to be the couloir east of the correct one. It worked out fine, but for future reference, the correct "Lackawanna Couloir" is the one you can see from the road where the valley broadens and flattens in a willow-choked flat. [image] Upper wrong couloir After an easy climb through open woods, I cramponed up a bit of snow, then hopped up some boulders to reach the continuous snow tongue leading to the summit ridge. The snow was pleasantly firm, and I had almost no postholing trouble as I cramponed up into a bowl, then up what turned out to be Lackawanna's southeast face. The final climb was steep enough that I was glad to have an axe to supplement my worn-down running shoe crampons. [image] Looking down correct couloir Topping out, I figured out the wrong-couloir situation, then made a quick jaunt to the summit before descending the correct chute. The initial drop was steep, and the snow was still very hard, so it was a bit of a desperate effort in my worn-out crampons, downclimbing with several kicks for each step. Once the angle eased a bit, I was able to walk down facing outward, and even began postholing occasionally lower down. Though I did not see any wildlife, I saw mountain goat tracks and spoor surprisingly low down. At the base of the snow, I turned into the woods east of the couloir instead of bashing through the willows. For some reason, the woods here were much less pleasant than those I encountered on the way up, with more deadfall and underbrush, but the road was not too far, and I reached the car by late morning. After a random meal, I headed down to Buena Vista for a shower. The shower was dirtier than I remembered, and despite the "very hot water!" warning signs, the actual water was never warmer than not-freezing, but I managed to make myself a bit cleaner for $2, and I was on the road again before noon. I hoped to tag Buckskin Mountain, a formless mound across from Democrat, but the weather deteriorated rapidly. I gamely headed out anyways, only to turn around when the lighting started - Buckskin just wasn't worth risking electrocution. This turned out to be a fortunate choice, as I happened to meet a random Canadian with whom I had interacted online on the way back. It's a small world of people who get out into the hills in the awkward season. [image] Looking down wrong couloir [image] Upper wrong couloir [image] Oklahoma and Massive from Lackawanna [image] South to La Plata from summit [image] Looking down correct couloir

The Other Kind of Pencil (16 March 2014) March 19, 2014 Brittany Walker Konsella 2 Comments (Last Updated On: March 19, 2014) The sky was the Colorado endless blue and the day was warm and carried the scent of approaching spring. But, the wind cooled the air and carried plumes of snow high above the alpine peaks, like fairies dancing in the sky. [image] Frank making quality turns in the Pencil. It was a day destined for oxymorons. Spring-like conditions and stability that told us to stay high on the peaks, but the high-powered gusts and wind-loaded slopes told us to seek shelter. These were our thoughts when we met Colin, visiting from the Front Range, at the Kebler Pass trailhead. Deciding upon a line to ski this day was a bit tricky. We decided that Axtell would be our zone and drove snowmobiles across the base of it to give us a better idea for conditions. The area we were hoping to ski was inevitably wind-scoured; something we wanted to avoid. So, we turned around, and I spent time gazing at the plethora of lines available on the mountain. A line called the Pencil looked stacked with snow and particularly inviting. We agreed to ascend the regular Axtell route via the ridge to the Pencil to get a closer look, knowing that a few treed bowls accessed earlier on that ridge could be alternative options to descend if we didn't like the conditions. The Pencil. [image] Though the snow was wind-affected, the conditions in the Pencil were decent, and we enjoyed out turns down this wonderfully aesthetic line. Colin. [image] [image] [image] [image] [image] Frank. [image] [image] Me. [image] [image] [image] Conditions were great for sledding, so we played a little on the way out. A little icing on the cake. Frank. [image] [image] Though conditions were transitional and wind-affected, we still enjoyed the day. Something about being in the mountains under a bluebird sky and descending a beautiful line creates a happiness that is hard to top. High pressure is here. Bring on spring 🙂

Hite Cove: California Wildflowers with a Side of Ruins Mar 26, '14 · by Denise · in On Adventures, Yosemite Day Hike Guess what season it is? ... [image] California Poppy Season! Last weekend's arrival of California's poppies swept aside any previous hiking plans (Sorry Little Nellie Falls, check you latter) and instead filled my head with visions of hiking in sandals through fields tinged with orange. And not just any trail would do - this year I was going to get to Hite Cove, damn it! Hite Cove Distance: 9-ish mile out and back to the Hite Cove Ruins (4.5 there and 4.5 back). Alternatively the first 2 miles of trail, which will lead you to a ice picnicking spot near the river, have the best wildflower displays. Trail head: Park on the shoulder of Hwy 140 , about 11 miles outside of the Arch Rock Entrance to Yosemite. Map [image] Hite Cove Hike, North is up The hite cove trail is a popular destination for photographers and nature lovers alike because it weaves directly through the middle of poppy fields, their delicate pedals like thousands of tiny butterfly wings at your fingertips and as far as the eye can see. Since it is a popular hike, so prepare for people, cameras, and dogs on the fairly narrow trail. But, like the waterfalls in the valley the people are to be expected and unavoidable given the accessibility and beauty of the trail. The first two miles of the trail boast the best poppy viewing, but for the fool hardy hiker (ie: Me, Curtis, and our friend Pete) who completes the whole 9 miles the next few miles provide views of the South Fork of the Merced & end in an abandoned mining camp. Maybe it is just from living in the U.P. for a while (photographing abandoned mining sites is a real pastime there), but I think photographers only visiting the poppies are missing out on some good "Ruin Porn" opportunities. [image] This Hite Cove Stamp Mill is one of the first signs of the settlement you run into on the trail. [image] Even the walls abandoned Hite Cove after the gold dried up! (No but seriously, what are you up to hanging roof?) As final note, for anyone look to have a spooky time hanging out in some abandoned mining site you can apparently get a backpacking permit from the Sierra Forest and spend the evening in one of a few campsites down near Hite Cove. There is even one fire ring in the middle of the action, although I doubt staying there would be very legit. It would probably get pretty spooky though! Doubly so if sleeping under that mysterious hanging roof. #ghosts More photos of flowers and ruins below. Also, if you are planning on visiting Hite's cove check out my mini California Wildflower Guide to learn more about what you might find. [image] [image] [image] [image] [image] [image] [image] [image] [image] [image] [image] [image] [image] [image] [image] [image] [image] [image] [image] [image] [image]

Trelease Bowl NE-E Facing Bowl above treeline on Mt. Trelease. There is a lot of avalanche danger here. You can follow this up with a run through The Tubes or you could traverse around to the skier's right towards the bottom to hit the Southeast Trees. Maps *All Mapped Areas are Approximations Trailheads Dry Gulch Trailhead Located at the Loveland Pass Exit of I-70 Avalanche Reports 01/02/2022 - (Pat's Knob) 12/20/2018 - (Mt. Trelease) 01/08/2018 - (Multiple Reports) 12/27/2017 - (East face of Trelease) 12/25/2017 - (Dry Gulch) 11/23/2015 - (Trelease NE Above Treeline) 11/16/2014 - (Dry Gulch) 11/11/2014 - (Trelease NE Above Treeline) Trip Reports 11/29/2010 - (mikerecords.com) Guide Books Making Turns in Colorado's Front Range Vol. 2 by Fritz Sperry Backcountry Ski & Snowboard Routes: Colorado by Brittany & Frank Konsella[image] (Links to guidebooks may be affiliate links) Videos All videos are Copyright their respective owners. These are 3rd party videos hosted on YouTube or Vimeo and we make no guarantees as to their accuracy or relevance. Trelease Bowl and The Tubes by Kristopher Clemons: 11/24/2013 [video] Find Nearby Zones *All Mapped Areas are Approximations tagged: Clear Creek County, Dry Gulch, Front Range

Manitou Springs Incline [image] RT Length: 4.72 miles Elevation Gain: 2331' Date: 12-13-2020 Partner: SkyDiverHiker I haven't been to the Manitou Springs Incline since they've implemented the reservation system, but since there was high avalanche danger all across the state, I figured today was a good day to go. The reservations were free, and easy to obtain. There are 25 slots open every half hour for reservation, and I secured the last two. However, when we arrived we only passed/say about 8 other people all day, and no one was enforcing the permit system. Maybe they took a snow day? We paid to park while it was still dark and headed up the trail. It was 12 degrees outside, and SkyDiverHiker had on his new gloves. We weren't sure if we were going to hike the incline once or twice today, so we decided to take it slow. We also wanted to see the sunrise, and we knew at our normal speed we'd get there half an hour before it happened, so if we went a little slower we'd stay warm longer. Check out our view of Manitou Springs [image] We kept the pace slow and steady. About halfway up SkyDiverHiker's calves started cramping up, so we decided to make this a one and done day. [image] It took us about 40 minutes to reach the top, so we had a bit of waiting to do. [image] [image] We took a selfie at the top: notice how cold it is? My hair is frozen! [image] While we waited I got out my new photography sphere. I took a bunch of photos, trying to figure out how it worked. Unfortunately, it was still really cold outside, and my phone froze. The stylus didn't work and my fingers were numb, so I didn't get as many pictures as I'd of liked. I need some more practice. [image] [image] It seemed to take forever for the sun to rise! [image] Jill and her husband met us at the top, and she took a few sphere photos too. Then we were off, back down the trail [image] [image] Halfway down we had someone ask us if we'd seen a dog. No, we hadn't, but a few minutes later a medium sized black mutt raced past us. We ended seeing the dog again and were able to coax it to us. We retraced our steps back up the trail to the owners, who were grateful, but I had to ask them if they had a leash? They looked confused, said "Oh yeah", and got it out and put it on the dog. When we got back to the truck it was still 12 degrees outside! Brrrr!

Day of the Dead Festival on Olvera St in Downtown Los Angeles Every year for nine days, Olvera St transforms for the Day of the Dead festival or Dia De Los Muertos. Day of the Dead is a Mexican holiday that celebrates life and the loved ones that passed away during the previous year. The festival includes memorials, dancing, face painting, music, and food, all along the famous Olvera St in downtown Los Angeles. I have always wanted to go and finally took the time to check it out this year. It is over for the year (2017), but be sure to go next year if you like what you see here. [image] Details 9-day festival culminating on Nov 2nd Free Great opportunity to take the train as it is right across from Union Station Location: 10 Olvera St, Los Angeles, CA 90012 I wrote this in 2017, so some of the information may have changed Getting There [image] Olvera St is located right off the Alameda / Union Station exit on Highway 101. There is a small paid parking lot right near the corner of Alameda and Arcadia if you can find a spot in it. Also, you can take the train or metro from all over LA to Union Station and just walk across the street as well. The Festival [image] During the nine days of the festival, it runs pretty much all day and culminates in the nightly procession that goes from about 7 PM - 8 PM. I recommend getting there a few hours before the parade so you can shop, eat and explore the festival, here are some of the highlights. Face Painting [image] Getting your face painted with the traditional sugar skull art style that has become synonymous with Day of the Dead is incredibly popular. The prices range from $20 - $45 depending on whether you want your full face painted or not and be prepared to wait as it can take a while to get through the line. Shopping [image] Olvera St is a pedestrian-only walkway of shops that sell everything from small trinkets to clothing. You can walk the aisles and look at all the options, but do note that there is usually a large crowd, so walking can be slow. Food [image] All around the festival there are fruit and drinks you can buy, as well as Mexican food at many of the restaurants. [image] My favorite is Cielito Lindo at the end of Olvera St, which has been selling famous taquitos with avocado sauce for over 80 years. Cielito Lindo is another spot you should be prepared to wait at, but it is worth the wait. [image] Memorials [image] All around the center pavilion in Los Angeles Plaza Park, you will see the memorials set up to honor those that passed away. [image] These are beautifully crafted with lots of flowers, photos, and other things the person enjoyed in life. [image] These memorials are one of the most popular parts of the festival, and there are always a lot of people checking them out. The Procession [image] The last thing you will want to see on your visit is the nightly procession that starts at 7 PM. [image] This parade is a celebration of life and features musicians, people dressed up, and a lot of incense. [image] It is a visual experience that you do not want to miss, and it ends with dancing and presentations right in the central pavilion. [image] After the procession, my wife and I left the festival and headed back to the car. It was a fun experience and one that I am sure I will do again in the next few years. Check out this video to see more of the highlights. [video] Let me know what you thought if you went in the comments.

Piute Crags No. 7-11 from North Lake, 2022 Sierra Challenge Day 5 [image] Piute Crags are an officially names series of peaklets that descend from the eastern ridge of Mt Emerson. These peaks are metamorphic roof pendants, which were formed when an ancient magma chamber exposed the surrounding country rock to high temperature and low pressure metamorphism. There are 11 crags that were recognized for the 2022 Sierra Challenge. Each crag would count as ½ credit, but to get full credit for completing the challenge peak, one of the crags would have to be from the set No. 1 through No. 7. The purpose of this rule was to encourage challenge participants to climb at least one of the crags over 12,000 ft in elevation, and eliminate the possibility of cherry picking the lower altitude crags, which were of course less strenuous. The rock quality was expected to be very poor, so while the effort to reach the crags was quite easy by Sierra Challenge standards, there was some concern before the outing. A bad weather forecast added to the apprehension. I was optimistic that all participants would be able to at least get the bare minimum for a full challenge point, but I had already resigned to the fact that we would not be able to run the ridge all the way to Mt Emerson, which was my goal in the month leading up to the challenge. I woke up in my luxurious hotel in Bishop then drove to the trailhead. As I arrived at North Lake, I noticed a group of headlamps making their way towards the peak in the predawn darkness. Chris, JD, Grundy and Sean Reedy led an advanced party in hopes of beating the weather. I met Mike, who had previously offered to lead the technical part of the traverse, but he was not in the right headspace. I guess a night of sleeping in the rain can do that to you. I tried to assure him that the weather would be fine, but there was no convincing him otherwise. I planned to bring my harness anyways in case he had a change of heart, or I was able to catch the group of 4 ahead of me, and Dylan offered to carry the rope just in case. We walked to the gate at the pack station and took our starting photograph at 6am. [image] We walked through the pack station then picked up a trail that switched back up towards the top of the ridge. I had noticed the trail on the topo map, and was surprised to find it in decent condition. The trail provides access to the top of Bishop Bowl, which is a popular winter backcountry ski area. The mountains slopes were covered with small aspens and sage brush. The participants jostled for position, but I maintained an even pace, not really feeling pressed by the weather. We climbed for about 1,300 ft, then left the trail and followed a gully towards the top of the ridgeline. [image] We turned west once atop the ridge then the ground under our feet changed. Our nice sandy trail turned to a steep talus field. [image] The next section wasn't exactly fun, but the steep nature allowed everyone to gain elevation quickly. [image] We traversed beneath a sub peak as we made our way to Bishop Bowl Peak. [image] The Piute Crags finally came into view, but the weather was slowly deteriorating. [image] I was by myself when I reached Bishop Bowl Peak. Sean King and Mike were way ahead of me, Bob and Dylan were a short distance ahead of me, and Zee and Mason were a short distance behind me. [image] I wanted to catch up with Bob and Dylan, so I left the summit quickly. I missed the summit register in my haste. [image] From a distance, I spied the advanced group on top of Piute Crag No. 6. [image] [image] I was somewhat surprised to find them not further along in the traverse. Sean King and Mike were already descending Piute Crag No. 7 and heading towards Piute Crag No. 8 below. [image] I caught up with Bob and Dylan at the base of Piute Crag No. 7. They already had a head start up the crag so I wasted no time. The rock was incredibly loose but the scrambling never exceeded class 3. At the top, Bob replaced the crudely assembled register of the advanced team with a new, official Sierra Challenge register. [image] [image] We discussed the possibility of continuing on to Piute Crag No. 6, but today was not a good day to be pulling out the ropes. Such tasks take time, and we were not guaranteed much of said time with the chance of thunder and lightning in the forecast. According to Chris, the scramble appeared to be much more difficult than anticipated, and the advanced party had decided to return back to Piute Crag No. 7, rather than continue onwards to Piute Crag No. 5. Bob, Dylan and I agreed to continue down together towards Piute Crag No. 8 below. [image] We were encouraged to see Mike already near the summit, with Sean King following closely behind. [image] We dropped down to the chute to the east of the Piute Crags. We yelled across the gully towards Sean King and Mike, who were now back down from the crag. They were done for the day, and decided to head back to North Lake. Bob, Dylan and I started towards the base of the scramble section of Piute Crag No. 8. [image] The scrambling was very exposed, but the rock was actually very solid in this section. Bob took the lead and I followed closely behind. [image] We made it to the summit, claiming full challenge peak credit. [image] [image] We then watched Dylan as he tentatively made his way to the exposed section. For a second it looked like he might not have the fortitude to attempt the scramble. Could this be my chance to take back the lead for the yellow jersey? [image] With our words of encouragement, Dylan made it past the crux and joined us on the summit. [image] Mike was able to take photos of us as we stood atop Piute Crag No. 8. [image] [image] Bob then used the old Piute Crag No. 7 register which was placed by the advanced team and refashioned it to become the new Piute Crag No. 8 register. Bob and I debated the difficulty of the pitch. It argued that it was class 4, whereas Bob countered that it was class 3. To me the difficulty of the route is somewhat irrelevant, and in such debates the penalty of a fall should be taken into account. A misstep here would mean serious injury or death. It was like climbing a ladder in the sky. We took care in climbing down. I again felt very assured with the solid nature of the rock. [image] [image] [image] [image] [image] [image] At the base of the scramble we said goodbye to Dylan who decided to return back to town and work. Bob and I continued together towards Piute Crag No. 9. [image] Rather than dropping all the way down the chute and climbing back up, we took a shortcut that wrapped us around some rocky cliffs. [image] Piute Crag No. 9 finally became visible. [image] [image] The scramble to the top of Piute Crag No. 9 was enjoyable class 3 and soon we were on top of our third crag of the day. [image] To the west was an unnamed crag which looked not much different than the crags we were scrambling on. This crag is not referenced in Secor's guidebook, so it will most likely be ignored by the hiking, climbing and cragging community. [image] Now the question of how to get to Piute Crag No. 10 came to the forefront. The shortest and physically easiest answer was to continue south down the ridge directly. However it wasn't clear if this route would go. Bob and I promised ourselves that we wouldn't encourage each other to do something we weren't comfortable with. I went first, taking great care with each move. [image] The closer I got to the saddle, the more technical the climbing got. What started as class 3 soon turned to class 4 and eventually turned to class 5. Halfway down Bob signaled that he was no longer comfortable, so I said goodbye and continued by myself. I took it one move at a time, and I finally made it back down to the saddle. I estimated that the difficulty was around 5.5. [image] The scramble up to Piute Crag No. 10 wasn't easy either. The route I chose was class 4, however the rock quality was terrible, and I was more scared on this section than on the downclimb from Piute Crag No. 9. [image] I made it to the top, somewhat regretting what I had just done. [image] [image] [image] Looking back towards the higher crags, I spotted the advanced party taking a direct route down the ridge. What they were doing looked insane, but what I had just done from Piute Crag No. 9-10 might have been tougher. Grundy was the only one who took the same route as me, later telling me that I, "class foured the 5.5." [image] [image] [image] Bob, taking a longer but less technical route around the crag, spotted me atop Piute Crag No. 10. [image] With one crag remaining, I decided to stay atop the ridge and continue directly towards Piute Crag No. 11. [image] The friction slab I walked down wasn't exactly easy, but with my approach shoes I felt comfortable enough to complete the traverse to Piute Crag No. 11. [image] The others were still making their way down from Piute Crag No. 8. [image] It wasn't exactly clear to me which was considered the "top" of Piute Crag No. 11 so I walked to all the possible high points. [image] [image] [image] [image] [image] [image] I then entered a really nasty chute which led me back down to the main chute below. Once in the main chute, I had a really tedious walk back down to Bishop Creek. I was relieved to get off the talus. I found some trash which appeared to have been chewed on by a bear. [image] Once I hit the trail, it was smooth sailing all the way back to the car. [image] When I returned to the cars it was early enough to get lunch in town, so I left immediately. Bob was relieved to later hear that I got back safely, unsure if I had an accident when he did not see me on top of Piute Crag No. 11. Official Summary: 11 separate crags were recognized for the 2022 Sierra Challenge. Each crag counts as ½ credit, but to get full credit towards completing the challenge peak, one of the two crags must include a crag from the set #1 through #7. Challenge participants climbed different combinations of crags, with most climbers climbing Piute Crag No. 7 and 8. This was the most technically challenging day on the challenge, with all climbers free soloing at least one pitch of class 4. One advanced rope team ventured to Piute Crag No. 6, but were stopped short of Piute Crag No. 5. I first climbed up to Bishop Bowl Peak then traversed over towards Piute Crag No. 7. We brought a rope, but our rope lead got spooked and bailed. I climbed Piute Crags No. 7, 8, 9, 10 and 11 free. The traverse between crags 9-11 was quite spicy. I'm not a climber, but I suspect I was downclimbing 5.5. Storms threatened all day but it never rained.

North Peak (12,242 ft) from Saddlebag Lake [image] We woke up in our tent at Virginia Creek Primitive Campground. The weather was much colder than the day before. We packed up the camping gear and drove to Saddlebag Lake just outside the eastern entrance of Yosemite National Park. Brian was still with us after climbing Leavitt Peak the day before. We parked in the parking lot near the dam at the south end of the lake. It would be an easy day; all we intended to do was climb North Peak. [image] We crossed the dam and walked north along the western shore of Saddlebag Lake. [image] Brian seemed under prepared for the cold weather so I lent him my jacket. This left me slightly chilled, but I am tough. To the north was Shepherd Crest, which looks like a false North Peak. [image] We followed the trail towards the inlet of the lake, then took a left towards Greenstone Lake. North Peak came fully into view. [image] There were defined use trails on either side of Lee Vining Creek, so we stayed on the south side for the time being. I spotted many trout in the surrounding waters, but they would dart out of sight as soon as I got close enough for them to see me. This is a very popular area and it is fished often. I found myself hiking ahead of Brian and Asaka, so I decided to take out my Tenkara and toss a few lines into the water. I snuck up on a bend in the creek and tossed my fly over some grass. On my second cast I got a bite and pulled this little guy out of the creek. [image] I was shocked to have caught one so quickly, especially after my failures the previous day at Latopie Lake. I let Brian check out the fish and then I released it back into the water. From there, we crossed the creek and climbed up the right side of a waterfall to reach the bench above. [image] [image] The technical routes up North Peak stood directly in front of us. We planned to ascend the class 2-3 southeastern slopes. [image] [image] Within minutes, we reached one of the Conness Lakes. [image] [image] We skirted around the northern shore until we ascended to a higher lake above. The high mineral content in the water caused by the Conness Glacier above gave the lakes a greenish blue color. [image] [image] After passing the second lake we started climbing the talus field directly above us to the northwest. [image] While we ended up finding a use trail on the way down, we couldn't find anything but sand and loose rocks on our way up. Naturally, Brian's already sluggish pace further slowed. I got tired of waiting every couple minutes, so Asaka and I continued up to the ridgeline where we hoped to find refuge from the slowly increasing wind. [image] Sheep Peak appeared as we reached the crest. After lending Brian my jacket, I had no additional layers to put on. We found an alcove where we sat down and ate lunch. [image] 500 feet of gentle slopes led to the summit to the northeast. [image] I spotted a lone hiker clambering around the summit block. [image] I became impatient as I saw another group pass us. Asaka was getting cold so I told her to follow them. Brian showed up shortly after Asaka left, and I explained to him that I was getting cold and needed to keep moving, so I wouldn't wait for him on the final stretch. The route was simple enough, and we would be able to see each other the whole time. The remaining distance went by quickly, and I made it to the summit about 15 minutes later. To the northwest were Matterhorn Peak and Twin Peaks. [image] To the northeast were Excelsior Mountain and Dunderberg Peak. [image] To the east were Mt Warren and Saddlebag Lake. [image] To the southeast were Mt Dana, Mt Gibbs, Banner Peak, Mt Ritter, Mt Lyell and Mt Maclure. [image] To the south were Mt Conness and Conness Glacier. [image] To the southwest were Clouds Rest and Half Dome. [image] To the west was Sheep Peak. [image] I chatted with the other couple on the summit as I took in the views. Brian later joined us on the summit, having no issues finding his own way up. After an adequate amount of time on the summit we began our hike back down. [image] This time we found the use trail which led us down towards Conness Lakes. [image] I had an opportunity to claim my first Triple Crown, which is where one catches a fish, summits a peak and fully submerges in a lake on the same day. The weather was steadily getting colder and the thought of an aqua challenge was very unappealing. I believe catching a fish is the hardest part of obtaining the Triple Crown, and I consider it rare to catch one on the hike in. I decided to be a man and jump in. I expected the wind afterwards to chill me to the bone, but my body was pleasantly warm afterwards. It remained that way until I put my clothes back on. [image] [image] We stayed on the north side of Lee Vining Creek on the hike out. I tried to fish a little bit more, but kept losing my flies. Asaka and Brian didn't wait for me, so I had some catching up to do. It was getting late anyways and I wanted to get dinner early. [image] [image] We had Mexican food for dinner in Groveland and slept in our own beds that night. I hope Brian enjoyed his first hikes in the Sierra Nevada

sacajawea peak - 9,665' - class 1july 2013 [image] Fairy Lake reflection at sunrise This was a fun little trip I did on my way back to Red Lodge for the second time in 2013. I had made the drive from Washington to Bozeman successfully and wanted to make a short hike in the nearby Bridger Mountains that Vince had told me about the previous month. That evening when I arrived into town I saw one of the most vibrant sunsets I have ever seen as a huge thunderstorm was dissipating and emerging out of the Absaroka Mountains to the south. The clouds towered high above and the bright colors made the entire city feel tiny. As nightfall progressed, I made a quick internet search for a good hike in the Bridger Mountains and noticed that Sacagawea Peak is a great short hike and is the tallest peak in the range. So I started driving north out of town and noticed the headlights in my car dimming considerably. I didn't think too much of it until it was too late. As I drove up the steep dirt road towards Fairy Lake, the battery in my car ran out of charge and I wasn't able to start it. I was stuck in the middle of the road on one of the steepest parts of the road! So my only option was to sit there until morning until someone came up and I could get a jump. Luckily someone came up before sunrise and I was able to get it started. I made it to the trailhead and quickly ran to Fairy Lake where I shot the awesome sunrise reflection shown to the left. I ended up catching up with the guy who helped me out and we made the hike all the way up to the saddle between Sacagawea and Hardscrabble Peaks together. Turns out he did a bunch of alpine climbing as well and was a longtime local to Bozeman. We parted at the saddle and I quickly made the hike to the beautiful summit. Views of the Absarokas and the surrounding Bridger Peaks were beautiful. [image] Impressive slabs on Sacagawea Peak [image] Hardscrabble Peak [image] Wildflowers in the meadow below Sacagawea Peak [image] Brilliant sunset from Bozema

Summit Attempt on Nevado del Tolima (17,310 ft) Tags: Backpacking, Colombia, Mountaineering, South America, Travel [image] View of Tolima in the clouds with Finca La Playa in foreground One of the things we were most excited about in Colombia was a summit attempt on a 17,000+ ft glaciated volcano in the Northern Andes: Nevado del Tolima. The ascent is pretty non-technical and guides don't require any previous mountaineering knowledge or fitness restriction. There are multiple guide services and itinerary for this trek between 3-5 days, some with a stop over to a natural hot springs, some extending to hit the two other nearby glaciated peaks. We booked a guide for four days with SAWA Travel with 12,000 ft of gain and picked up one extra person on the itinerary for a little lower cost (still $450 pp). We wanted to use a guide to help us navigate logistics, local weather and contribute to the local economy. I think a guide is required to attempt the summit, but I'm not sure. This was the itinerary: 30.7 mi, 12,000 ft gain (GPX) Day 1: Finca La Argentina (11,300ft) 5.7 mi, 4,000 ft Day 2: Finca La Playa (12,500 ft) 4.3 mi, 2,000 ft Day 2 (night): Summit (17,310 ft) 11.25 mi, 4,500 ft Day 3: Rest Day 4: Cocora Valley 10 mi, 1,000 ft up 4,500 ft down Given what I know about high altitude mountaineering, I am quite surprised they offer a three day trip bringing people from Salento (6,000 ft) up to the summit (+11,000 ft) in two days for a summit bid. I feel like most people would get altitude sickness? Many people get altitude sickness attempting 14ers on a weekend from the SF Bay Area (sea level). Equipment A week into our trip in Colombia while experiencing hot equatorial temperatures with 90% humidity that required at minimum sweating through a shirt and a cold shower each day...Sadie looked at the warm clothes filling half her bag and said, "I think I overpacked". SAWA's pack list was essentially for a winter mountaineering ascent with things like "Polar Mittens", but the volcano (despite being at 17,000 ft) is on the equator and we weren't sure that a pack-list for any random person with no mountain experience in a hot country really applied to two experienced mountaineers who are coming from winter. Also, hauling around a bunch of warm clothes you'll use for 8 hours of a three week trip is something worth minimizing so we hedged with something like late-Spring mountaineering equipment with rain gear and enough clothes for freezing but not frigid temperatures. I confirmed with our guide the night before that what I saw on Mountain Forecast of 32 degrees on the summit and low wind was basically correct. Lucky for us, the "rubber boot /. poncho" equipment requirement was not necessary as we were in a dry-spell after the wet season and the trail was mostly dry. Day 1: Finca La Argentina We met our guide Juan at 8am for breakfast at Brunch Salento, a very tasty American themed restaurant with good breakfast, coffee and large portions. From here we loaded up our non-hiking equipment (toiletries, warm clothes) and gear into bags and took a taxi to Cocora Valley. Those bags would be transported by donkey between farms while we would hike with day bags. [image] One of the regular donkeys on trail We started up a trail across the valley opposite from the main-super-touristy-busy-trail. For the day it would be like traversing on the side of a ridge gaining elevation over a 5 ft wide dirt and rocky trail with light traffic. Sometimes it could get mucky, but there were always stones to step on. Views were mostly consistent forested ridge until the La Argentina Farm. [image] [image] [image] View of La Argentina (circled) La Argentina was a true rustic farm with small hairy pigs, horses, donkeys, sheep, chickens and some very bossy ducks. We had a cozy, semi tight, sturdy three-bunk room that was very air tight and warm with blankets. There were two other groups trekking that stayed here. Most the travelers acted like it was cold this evening, but was in a T-shirt and pants most of the night. It was going to be a lot colder up 6,000 ft... We spent the couple hours before dinner talking and watching the animal TV around the farm. Surprisingly for something so off-grid, there was a flush toilet, electricity for light and instant hot water if you wanted to take a shower. [image] View looking down the valley from the farm with some horses in the pasture [image] This duck really wanted to bite me Day 2: Finca La Play [image] Walking up-valley from La Argentina. We cross the valley further up. The next morning we hiked up the valley, crossed over it and entered the Páramo eco-zone (12,000+ ft) with these weird Joshua Tree-esque Frailejones (Espeletia) which supposedly grow 1 cm a year (I saw many over 200cm high). The trails became less a wide dirt trail and more a heavily rutted braided path from all the horse / donkey traffic. We gained a saddle at 13,000 ft where we spent some time to see if anyone exhibited altitude sensitivity, which no one did. [image] Forest of Frailejones to our right while ascending the saddle Then we descended to La Playa Farm for our first view of our cloud topped Tolima. After a short demo of ice axe + harness + crampons (we would rope team on glacier) and discussion of our summit bid we had free time outside of dinner at 6pm. Sadie had been sick for a week but was recovering. However, she thought she would be healthy enough to make the summit. Plan was to wake up at 10:45pm for a warm drink and a bite to eat before hitting the trail with the goal to summit by 6am. [image] View of Tolima's glacier peaking out overtop La Playa We tried to get as much rest as possible outside of dinner, but farm life was just going on around all us trekkers staying here. Kids were playing loudly, someone was chopping wood that shook the bunk house, dogs barked, horses winnied, a branch dragged across metal sheeting, people laughed and talked loudly, horses arrived stirring up dirt and horse poop which aerated into our not quite fully sealed bunkhouse. It was novel and authentic, but also we were trying to get some sleep before a summit attempt at 11pm. Day 2 (night): Summit We were the first of the four groups to attempt a summit bid from La Playa as we packed our bags and started up the heavily rutted trails towards the saddle where we'd join the ridge to the summit. Our additional teammate lost one of his water bottles, but was told it was fine to just bring one liter even though there was no refill along the route, despite this being like a 10-12 hrs outing...which was interesting because hydration is one way to keep away altitude sickness. We reached the saddle and the wind was picking up. The conditions were not a light breeze down low and 5-10mph on summit, it was already a 35-45mph wind that could move me around despite my size. We stopped every 1000 ft or so for an extended 20 minutes of time where I would lose all my heat and start getting cold. I hadn't put on my warm layer yet (just sun hoody + shell), but Sadie had all her layers on. At 2am we stopped at 14,500 ft for a break in an old bivy site. It was constant wind and easy to get cold while not moving. Sadie expressed she was already pretty cold with all her layers on and was nervous about continuing the ascent knowing that it would get windier and colder (until sunrise four hours away and going up in elevation). Our guide, didn't really know what to do, he sorta just didn't say anything... In absence of his problem solving, I stepped in to see what gear we had and whether we could redistribute it. The young guy in our group was the only one with an unused layer, but Sadie and I were pretty sure he'd need it later. Our guide suggested we just keep going up and check back in, but Sadie was like, "what difference will that make?". Our guide had said before that mountaineering was more mental than physical and that is true, but so is exposure if the body is consistently loosing more heat than generation. It was kinda hard to communicate this point and our guide felt of the mind that Sadie just needed some encouragement while I was of the mind that Sadie knew these conditions and herself well enough to make the call. His other option was to hike faster between rests (which was a good suggestion), but Sadie did not think she could go much faster. After some conversation and plenty of silence on his part, we finally worked out a deal where we would take a radio from another guide we encountered and check in every 30 minutes by radio to him as Sadie and I descended and he continued with the other guy in our group. This was best case scenario to us since we didn't ruin the summit bid of the whole group and the trail was very straightforward. I also had a digital map. [image] View of trail to La Playa from the direction of the volcano We made it back to La Playa at 4:30am and went to sleep. Day 3: Rest Waking up late morning with several interruptions of people clunking into the bunk house after their summits, there was plenty of time for Sadie and I to talk about the summit attempt. Sadie has worn every layer she brought and it just wasn't enough given her body probably wasn't as good at keeping her warm while recovering from being sick. We would have kit'd differently if we were at home, but we only could devote so much space (and it was significant) to warm clothes we would use for 8 hours of our three week trip. One hack might have been bringing a thermos of hot coffee on the summit bid. The other might have been renting an additional warm layer from the guide service since we only packed for just enough. If we had gotten better condition information from Mountain Forecast, our guide or the guide service we would maybe have packed differently. The pack-list from the guide service is great for someone who knows nothing, it is not the right information for someone who has some experience. Sadie was disappointed she didn't make the summit and that it affected my ability to try as well. I was resolved that mountaineering is a team activity and you should go into it not expecting every time to be a success. The photos we saw later of the glaciated summit showed a heavily rime-ice'd glacier and some interesting small crevasses. In true Colombian fashion, someone had brought their dog to the summit. We had a lot of down time and went for a short hike. It was now Friday and the farm swelled to three times as many people by dinner. We ate in shifts and there wasn't much room to hang out inside unless you were actively eating. There were two toilets for 50 people which was a lot, but we were told sometimes it gets up to 100 people here. The bunk house was busy with people entering and leaving all day and all night. Day 4: Cocora Valley [image] Looking back at Tolima as we hiked out We returned a different way than we arrived past Finca La Primavera and down to the Cocora Valley on a similarly condition trail as the one we ascended on the other side of the valley. The forested 4,500 ft descent was more hilly with ups and downs than I expected past its middle. [image] Trail conditions around 9,000 ft This route was the main trail from Cocora Valley (which is one of the most popular destinations in Colombia) and in the last couple miles we started seeing the many people. The trail went across a river many times with fun, bouncy, single file bridges and then spit us out into the wide-open-farmland with a few tall Wax Palms. Like everywhere, we had to pay a guy for some reason to exit the trail this way... Back at the road, we hung out for an hour waiting for the donkey with our stuff that should already have arrived before taking our ride back to Salento Brunch for lunch. In another hour the donkey would arrive and we would end the trip. Reflections Colombia is diverse in that it has all the attributes of South America: Pacific Coast, Caribbean Coast, desert, tall volcanos, high alpine Andes mountains, the Amazon. However, it's not 'the best place' for any of that. Ecuador for Volcanos, Brazil for the Amazon, Peru for high altitude mountaineering, Patagonia for ruggedness, Island nations for the Caribbean, etc. Tolima was one of the most technical peaks in Colombia and it was not very technical. The trek was not world class like the Cordillera Huayhuash in Peru, it had okay views but was mostly on a heavily rutted horse trail in the forest. Meanwhile, the more interesting Colombian Andes mountains in El Cocuy have very restricted access to a couple days of guided day hikes. So the trek was okay and not hard. Maybe adding in the natural hot springs would have been more interesting. The farm experience while not exactly optimized for the lodging experience was an interesting cultural experience of farm life. Aside from packing different layers, probably bringing a travel sheet would have been good since it's not clear the turn over of our blankets and pillowcases among sweaty hikers in shared bunk houses. A good experience is one that is unique and that breaks expectations

Return to Smugglers Notch Posted on February 22, 2019 by Harvey I love New York. I love the ski history, the vast wilderness and the assortment of old-school ski hills. I also dig the proximity to Vermont and all that Green Mountain snow. [image] Northern Vermont is something else. The East is challenging for skiers, as conditions can quickly go from pow to crunch. But NoVT often escapes this fate, and even when it's afflicted, it recovers more quickly than any other other part of the northeast. Then there is Smugglers Notch. For me the place has everything: old school vibe, Hall lifts, excellent tree skiing and 300 inches of snow. I haven't been to every ski area north of I-89, but of those I have skied, I really dig Smuggs. [image] Each season one of my goals is to get to Northern Vermont, at least once. It's a haul for me, nearly 7 hours from our home in the flatlands. Invariably I find myself looking for a way to spend a night at our cabin in the southern Adirondacks to break up the drive. I need a long weekend to do it. This year, on President's Weekend, my girls had planned a trip to Orlando. Florida. Ugh. A combination of gymnastics and Disney, heaven for them, and torture for me, in the middle of ski season. My wife, angel that she is, saw that wistful look in my eye, and recommended that I go skiing instead. [image] These days when I ski, and especially when I ski a hill I don't know, I seek out partners who know the terrain and are willing to share. The Smuggs regular I know best is Vin Faraci, the craftsman who built my custom skis. I targeted Sunday as the day to make the trek from North River. I spoke to Vin; he was already planning to ski. Our plan was to meet in Lot 1 at 8am. As it worked out, the GPS fooled me and I was 20 or 30 minutes late. I ended up following Vin into the lot. We booted up there, grabbed my ticket and headed for the M1. [image] It was really cold, maybe 10 below zero. Vin asked if I wanted to hike. It sounded like a good way to warm up, but I admit I was a bit intimidated and asked to start inbounds. It hard to pass up the combo of tip rocker and steep groomed terrain. Thirty minutes after first chair, we were getting fresh, ice-cold cord on FIS. On our second lap we headed out for a Notch hike. Vin strolled casually along, I put my head down and cranked it out. Along the way we saw several options for dropping in, but Vin want to go farther out, and I did not object. [image] Vin found a line he wanted to ski and down we went. From the top of Smuggs the first 800 or 1000 feet is incredibly steep. I felt challenged beyond my limits. More than once I set it down as it seemed the safest option. Vin skied smooth as ever, always pulling up just before he went out of sight. Four days after a 10 inch dump and 2 days after a few inches more, we were finding a lot of fresh snow. On all our runs in the trees, as we got farther down and the pitch mellowed, I got more comfortable, and was better able to link turns. [image] At my request, we spent rest of the morning looking for lower angle trees inbounds off the M2 lift. We took a long break for lunch and came back out in the afternoon to ski more trees. We did another Notch hike and then finished up with one final groomer run as the lifts were shutting down. When conditions are good, President's Sunday is one of the busiest days of the year, and Smuggs lifties were filling every chair with two. Like other mountains I love, even when lifts are at capacity, the trails were uncrowded and the groomed terrain held up well all day long. [image] Vin and I took time on one of our lift rides to work out the details of a soon-to-be-announced initiative between NYSkiBlog and Whiteroom Skis, stay tuned for that. I had a long drive back to the Adirondacks, so we said our goodbyes in Lot 1, and I headed east towards the Champlain Bridge, in the waning light. What stuck with me was the increasingly unique nature of Smugglers Notch in this era of consolidation. Smuggs remains independent, a simple and beautiful ski area with the natural advantages of great snowfall and terrain. Will it be enough for the mountain to retain its independence and culture? Time will tell. For now, all I can do is ski it every chance I get. Tagged: Smugglers Notch, V

Backcountry Skiing, Wydaho Snow Wydaho Snow: 2.6.16: Teton Pass Windy As February 6, 2016 Max Mogren 1 Comment Today I hoped to take Maestra back to The Pyramid but forgot my skins in the TOJ. We opted for a quick lap on Mt. Glory before an afternoon of running errands and getting on going to work. I wasn't super stoked on The Pass due to weekend crowds, high winds, overcast skies, limited visibility, and what amounted to a few inches of fresh on sun, wind, and skier crusts. Aspects that got blown in by the latest winds were pretty good at upper elevations on Mt. Glory. By mid-mountain old tracks and sun crusts were much more apparent and the skiing started to suck. At lower elevations crusts seemed less pronounced, and the new snow felt pretty dense. Winds are forecast to start dying down soon. Shady, protected spots at mid-elevations are skiing best right now. Down low things are finally mostly filled in, but still not quite enough for comfort. Have fun out there! Every time you ring the alarm an angel gets its wings..

North Creek Ski Bowl Night Skiing Posted on March 23, 2013 by Harvey Ski Day 28: I left work yesterday at 3pm and headed north on 87. All week I watched a persistent uplevel disturbance that was producing a steady diet of light snow at higher elevations. [image] As I approached the Catskill and the Adirondacks, both ranges were shrouded in light snowshowers. I pulled into the North Creek Ski Bowl Base Area at 7:30 and headed into the lodge to boot up. I had the place almost to myself. I wasn't sure how many runs I could get in, so I saved a little time by dressing lightly. [image] View from the Village Slope at Night The friendly lifties told me that lifts were spinning until 9pm. Tonight was my first time riding the Village Chair, and my first ever lift-served night skiing. The storied slope has about 100 feet of vertical and two or three ways down. The headwall area is fun for five or six good quick turns. The remaining 60 feet of vert in lower area is a groomed path that is flanked with jumps and rollers. [image] Crazy Night Skier I was surprised to find corduroy on the sides of the trails after sunset. It had about half an inch of snow on top. After 20+ inches of snow in the last week, conditions were very good. On skiers right, there is a tubing hill that is served by a rope tow. I heard kids screaming with glee as they flew down the course. [image] The Tubing Hill I skipped my way down the upper section, and did big GS turns down below. It was great to feel some skiing after three long weeks off. I did six or seven runs and a one point I think I even yelped. Tagged: Adirondacks, North Creek Ski Bow

Skywalker Couloir on South Arapahoe Peak 6-7-2010 June 7, 2010 by Collin Tilbe3 Comments So after trying desperately to find a partner for Sunday and not having any success, I decided I was going to ski anyway. Not being a proponent of skiing alone, I chose a popular line where I figured there'd be plenty of skiers and climbers around. The Skywalker Couloir is a great steep descent in the Indian Peaks Wilderness which drops abrubtly off the south face of South Arapahoe Peak. Since it's located only 2 miles from the trailhead, it is a popular climb/descent for spring skiers. [image] Skywalker Couloir The guidebook I refer to http://www.amazon.com/Front-Range-Descents-Snowboarding-Colorados/dp/0965041239 states that the couloir should be attempted later in the day, since it is shieleded from the sun until mid-morning. I was at a wedding until late Saturday night, so I didn't get to the trailhead until about 9am. I planned to be at the base of skywalker by 10am and reach the top by 11. This would be well before the warmest part of the day and I figured the snow would remain stable yet be soft enough to boot pack with an ice axe. Even though the ascent is only 2 miles, one gains about 3500 vertical, which really wears on you. The beer from the night before probably didn't help either. While ascending through the trees I was both amazed at how much snow remained, and also how much was melting away! The trail had basically turned into a river of snowmelt. On the drive up, the Boulder Creek was raging and it was just a sign of how much snow we are losing. Although June is one of my favorite times to ski, it is also somewhat depressing to realize that the season is nearing its end, and I'll have to wait until at least November to get after it again. [image] Mt. Neva, another one on my list I did manage to reach the couloir by 10:20 am, in about an hour's time. As I arrived, there were 2 skiers coming down, who told me it was already beginning to soften extensively. Funny, since my guide book didn't even recommend ascending until "mid-morning," which I interpreted as around 10am. There was a forest serviceman below taking pictures of the couloir, so I at least had someone around, should I happen to take a slide down the Skywalker. I transitioned and stashed my hiking boots and hat under a rock and began to boot pack the couloir. The snow was rather firm, and I had a descent bootpack to follow, although whoever laid this track switchbacked up the couloir. This annoys me as I prefer a more direct approach for 2 reasons 1) It's fast and 2) it doesn't mess up the line on the way back down by putting boot holes in the descent route. Eventually I lost my boot pack and the slope steepened considerably. I took out the ice axe and kept pressing on. As I neared the top I noticed a large cornice to my left, in what I believe is called "The Princess Leia Exit." This cornice made me nervous and I was having visions of it breaking on me and taking me down the slope. It also seemed that the top of the couloir was getting much more sun than where I was down below, which made me question the stability of the snow above me. All of my fears were confirmed when I first poked out of the shadow. The snow turned from firm, boot-packable perfection to soft mushy crap. I was post-holing way deeper than I felt comfortable and it was very evident that the snowpack above me was destabilizing rapidly. Maybe on a normal day the guidebook would have been right, but on a 90 degree day in Denver, an earlier start was necessary. I kept eyeing that cornice and praying it held on as I traversed to a rock-ledge and beat my record for fastest transition. Even as I put my skis on some snow crumblies were rolling past me from the snowpack above. I was only a couple hundred feet from the top, but I wasn't taking any chances, it was time to get off this slope. [image] Looking up from where I started with the ice axe, notice the cornice to my left [image] Looking down from my transition spot It's funny how climbing a steep slope always gives me this healthy fear, yet as soon as I get my skis on I feel invincible. I remember the same feeling last year on Apache. Perhaps it's because I've spent way more time skiing DOWN steep slopes than climbing UP them. Either way, I was a little nervous until I got my skis on, but once I was set, I descended with ease. The snow was turning mushy and sliding from underneath me, so I made frequent stops along the edges in various safe zones. There is also a HUGE runnel in the middle of the Skywalker which has to be avoided, this was also done with ease. When I got back down I went to grab my boots and I found a curious Marmot who apparently thought my boots were a gift. He was lazily eating the tongue and didn't seem to mind that I had come back to claim by shoes. When I moved towards him be dragged my boot into his den and I had to fish it out with my ski pole! I really wish someone was around to see it, but it really got me laughing. [image] Curious Marmot [image] Chewed up boot Although I was somewhat disappointed I didn't get to descent from the very top, I was happy to be safe and get some turns in on this beautiful line. If the Skywalker was a summit bid, I'd feel different, but it's not so I didn't really care. By this time of year, I'm just stoked to get some steep turns in, and there's still a few weeks left! Take care

Day 83: Lake of the Pines to Donner Pass to mile 1160.7 Nearo Feat1 Jul 16 Written By Emily Schrick 7.7.18. 7.3 miles. I woke up super groggy this morning, really not wanting to wake up, but Riley was licking my face wanting breakfast and to pee, so I got up and dealt with the dogs, then cuddled/ slept with my mom for a few hours until it was really time to wake up and get going. I was meeting Hot Mess & Butters back at Donner Pass and bringing them Chick-Fil-A since they had been craving it, so we needed to leave by 11 am. I took a shower, finished some last minute to-do things, went to Starbucks for breakfast one last time, where we happened to run into Auntie Di & Amanda and were able to say goodbye, then went back to the house and packed up all my things and had Mom braid my hair. Then we were off, and we only left 15 minutes late! We drove to Chick-Fil-A and got everyone's orders. This was my first time having it and it was pretty good, I got the chicken nuggets! I'll have to have a deluxe sandwich next time. While driving back to the trail I finished writing blog posts and scheduling them, and just like that, we were back! [image] Always so weird to me to be at places on the PCT that I've been before! We all met the two of them on the Donner Ski Ranch porch where we hung out for about an hour, then Mom & Dad drove us back to the trail (right down the street). After some goodbyes, we were off! It felt pretty normal to be hiking again. I was worried I'd feel super homesick immediately and not want to get back on the trail, but I think meeting back up with Hot Mess & Butters really made it easier. I was also thrilled to hear they were thinking of only going 7.5 more miles for the day, which was music to my ears! I definitely needed to ease back into hiking after having the 3 days off. The trail was pretty nice and not too difficult, but hauling 6 days of food in my pack was not making it easy. My shoulders were pretty sore about 3 miles in. [image] Once we hiked about 3.5 miles, we stopped at the I-80 rest stop to use the bathroom and see if the ice cream vending machine was working. It was, so we got some ice cream and sat in the back eating it in the shade. As we were leaving, a couple came up to us and asked if we wanted trail magic... YES! They had been doing trail magic in the afternoon and were just about to leave. We got some cherries, a soda, and I had a bag of white cheddar popcorn. So great and such good timing! We were obviously taking our time getting to camp. [image] New section, new hiking outfit The next 2.5 miles were uphill, but not too steep, and soon enough we were at the top of Castle Pass, a place I had been before! I had Butters take a similar photo of me in the same spot from the winter. Our goal for the night was the Peter Grubb Hut, a backcountry hut maintained by the Sierra Club, mainly for winter use. It's right off the PCT. There were actually Sierra Club volunteers there when we got there so we chatted with them a lot about our hike and about what they do. It was nice to talk with them! [image] We didn't sleep in the hut, but went around the side and pitched our tents in the forest. We're going to do a bigger day tomorrow to set up well for Sierra City the next day! I don't need to resupply there or do town chores except charging, but I'll probably get lunch at the general store, and then we'll hike out. Northern California Emily Schric

The Temple (8,292 ft) [image] On the summit May 16, 2021, 5am - 7:15pm 16 miles, 8,000ft gain Eric, Fred, Andrew I was packrafting the Yakima River Saturday and looking for a top 200 peak sort of nearby to climb Sunday. The Temple is a top 200 peak in the enchantments that sounded like a fun option. It involves a little bit of rock climbing on the summit and a steep snow climb in a scenic area. It's not yet high season for the enchantments, so I didn't expect it to be too crowded. The shortest approach is from the snow lakes trailhead, so Andrew, Fred and I met up there Saturday evening. Sunday morning we left the cars at 5am. We decided to bring snowshoes instead of skis since it looked like snow didn't start til around 4,000ft, meaning greater than half of the trip was not on snow. By my rule of thumb this means I don't bring skis. For the climbing we brought two 30m ropes so we could easily distribute group gear. The climb was short enough that this seemed to make sense. We carried our mountaineering boots and planned to hike in trail runners until we hit snow. [image] The route We made good time up the trail, eventually crossing some intermittent snow slopes around 3,800ft before reaching continuous snow around 4,100ft just before the snow creek bridge. We ditched trail runners there and changed into boots. The snow was still firm enough that it made sense to continue without snowshoes. We followed the trail up to Nada Lake, past a few campers, to just past Nada Creek. After we crossed the creek we turned right and headed up off the trail. The snow soon melted away and we continued scrambling up talus slopes. We scrambled left of the big waterfall, then before reaching a mossy gully we traversed right on a good third class ledge system towards the waterfall. After we hiked up into the trees and back into the snow. We followed the left side of the creek up into a broad basin north of Black Pyramid. At 6,400ft we diverged from the creek and headed up towards the lower northeast ridge of The Temple. The highlight of this route was wriggling through a tunnel underneath a massive chockstone to get past a cliffband. [image] Scrambling above Nada Lake Above the chockstone we put on snowshoes briefly, but then ditched them when the terrain steepened above treeline. From there we cramponed directly up to the north face of the temple. The true summit of the Temple is a bit confusing and has baffled a few parties from earlier trip reports. It doesn't help that it's mislabled on the USGS quad and caltopo. The surveyed point 8292 on the USGS quad is actually the northwestern sub summit of The Temple. The point southeast of point 8292 is the true summit, perhaps 30ft taller. This begs the question - is 8292 the elevation of the summit or of the surveyed point? And if it's of the surveyed point, then the true summit is probably close to being a Bulger peak (lowest elevation Bulger peak is St Helens, 8,333ft). Thanks to trip reports from Eric E., Tom S, and Dustin W we were able to sort this out to climb the correct peak. I led the way cramponing up the steepening snow gully between The Temple and point 8292. After a final short scramble I reached the notch, which had a big chockstone in the middle with a rap anchor underneath. There were enough secure places for each of us to hang out up there and take our boots off. [image] Climbing the summit tower I switched into rock shoes, racked up, and tied into the ropes while Fred belayed. The climb out of the notch was easy, and I found an old rap anchor just above (probably from parties rapping with a 50m rope). Then I reached the crux slab. There's a very small old rusty bolt at the bottom of the slab, then some delicate moves on small exposed features, finally reaching some positive holds and a ledge. The bolt isn't too confidence inspiring and there is no gear on the slab, so I highly recommend rock shoes for this part. On the ledge I found two pins and got a cam in and built an anchor since I was out of rope. I think a 60m rope would have reached the summit but I was just leading on two 30m ropes. I belayed Fred up first, then Andrew. I think the slab must have been a lot more difficult for Andrew since he was climbing in trail runners. [image] On the summit The next pitch was short, with class 3/4 scrambling up the ledge, then one fifth class move to get up the final bit to the summit block. I belayed off some cracks in big boulder and we all made it up around 12:30pm. We hung out for a while admiring the views. It was sunny and quite warm. The enchantments were still covered in snow, with the lakes frozen over. The permit season officially had just begun for overnight trips, but with all the snow I think it will be weeks before it actually becomes crowded. Unfortunately I forgot to look around for the register. We found a rap anchor, backed it up with a cam, and Fred rapped down first. The ropes just barely reached our gear. Andrew and I then followed and the ropes pulled no problem. We took a break at the notch and I added a sling and rap ring to the notch anchor. The snow gully was steep enough at the top and we were already geared up that we thought we might as well rap it. [image] Downclimbing the north gully We soon rapped off, then downclimbed and plunge stepped down the gully. I really wish I'd had my skis for that gully, but I knew it would have probably slowed me down hauling them all the way in there for just a short bit of skiing. We followed our tracks back down, not really needing the snowshoes. After wriggling back down through the chock stone tunnel we hiked back to the waterfall and scrambled down the ledge and talus to the trail. It was an easy hike out. We met one more group camping at the lake, then one group coming back from climbing the outer space route, and one guy trail running. This officially became the most crowded hike/climb I've been on since mid october, having encountered seven people over the course of the day. By around 7:15pm we made it back to the car, and we soon driving home. [image][image] [image] [image] [image] [image] [image] [image] [image] [image] [image] [image] [image] [image] [image] [image] [image] [image] [image] [image] [image] [image] [image] [image] [image

The Watchman (North Ridge) June 18, 2017 [image]The North Ridge of the Watchman from the East Fork Eklutna bridge. The Watchman is one of those peaks that hides in plain sight. Even though the peak is 6410', its proximity of other large peaks causes it to be easily overlooked. From afar it looks like little more than a sub-peak of Benign, even through technically it's a peak (as in there is 500' of prominence separating the summit from the actual summit of Benign), and lies over a mile from the true summit of Benign. That said, with neighbors like Benign, Bellicose, Bashful and the Mitre it's easy to understand why it's often overlooked. However, several people speak very highly of the North Ridge so when a sunny weekend finally appeared I trolled for partners until finally asking Nathan Hebna if he was interested. Nathan was interested , but he had other commitments. However, climbers aren't really known for their reliability, and Nathan is well on his way to being a strong climber, so I wasn't surprised when he called back to say he had cancelled his other plans and was game to give it a try. We met in town at 6:30am, were driving by 7 and unloading the bikes by 8am for the 12-mile bike ride around the lake. Clouds hung low on the horizon,. But we kept peddling in the hopes that they would lift. Nathan had been up the trail twice that year already, so after ditching the bikes and fording the Eklutna river we were quickly moving up the trail. [image] Nathan fording the Eklutna. Knee deep in the morning, thigh deep in the evening. [image] On the trail leading to treeline. [image] Finally above treeline and heading up the North ridge. We reached treeline 3 hours after leaving the trail and were soon on the ridge moving up. An hour later we reached the clouds and spent the rest of the ascent in a thick soup navigating by GPS and feel. Nathan had tried the route a few weeks previous so he guided most of the most the way with me checking the GPS every now and then to make sure we were on track. [image] Approaching point 4120 in the fog. Just above this point we traversed right onto a broad tundra bench. [image] Around 5500'. [image] I believe this is a Swainson's Thrush nest... however it was found well above treeline (near 5000') so I'm not entirely sure. [image]Snow Gullies around 6000'. The North Ridge starts with a grassy ridge which you follow for almost a mile / 1500' until you reach point 4120. You then veer out onto a large bench on the west side of the peak which you traverse for 3/4 of a mile until again gaining the North ridge proper. Once back on the North Ridge the route starts getting more exposed and you must traverse back and forth on either side of the peak piecing together snow ramps, scree gullies and sheep trails. The higher you get the more exposed the route gets, until finally you find yourself scrambling up steep exposed 3rd class ledges until finally reaching the summit pyramid. [image] First view of the summit! [image] 3rd class ledges around 6000'. [image]Roping up for the summit pyramid. The summit pyramid is worth a mention. It's exactly 100' of steep gravel over shattered rock with a snow tongue leading up partway. Later in the year the snow will have melted out, however we found soft thigh deep isothermal snow leading to steep loss gravel. But we had a rope, and right at the base of the snow was a large horn so we looped some cord around the horn and then I started up the rotten snow before finally easing gently over to the rotten gravel which I then tiptoed up and across until 75' later I pulled over a lip into a dirty gully which I was then easily able to follow to the summit. Exactly 100' later (I know this since all I we had was a 30m rope and Nathan was yelling "You're out of rope!") I threw a piece of cord around a horn of rock right next to the summit and brought Nathan up. [image]Nathan just below the summit. The clouds parted magically just as we topped out! [image] Nathan on the summit looking across at Benign. [image] Looking down at Eklutna Lake. [image]Summit #BroPro selfie. Pretty awesome exposure on the top! The entire ascent had been in thick fog, but while we were sitting there the clouds suddenly lifted and we were treated to beautiful views of the Eklutna Valley. [image] Me at the horn you can belay off just below the summit. [image] Nathan looking back up at the summit. [image] Snow slopes around 5500'. [image]High above Eklutna lake. And then reversing the route. We stayed roped up for the summit gravel slopes but once down we packed away the rope and scrambled the rest of the way back to the valley floor. [image]Around 5000'. [image]Nathan on point 4120'. [video] Videos of river crossings are always fun. If everything goes right you have a great video of someone in misery as they wade through frigid water. If something goes wrong then you've got a great video of an epic in the making. Win / Win!

Solitude, UT: Channeling The Wasatch [image] by Bryan Luftglass I consider Solitude my home hill. That's a fairly insane statement from someone who has to jump a 4.5-hour flight from Newark, New Jersey to get there. But it's been my go-to mountain for the past few seasons. After falling in love with Solitude, I scrimped, saved, and waited until I could afford to convert my already-extended savings and credit into a place to live at the base of the mountain. This serves as my headquarters to ski, bike, and hike from. The peace and quiet also provides a virtual sensory-deprivation tank in which I can unwind. On paper, Solitude is a mountain that's easy to dismiss. The phrase "contempt prior to investigation" comes to mind. If Solitude were located anywhere in the East, it'd be considered a Top 5 ski area, but with so many world-class mountains in such close proximity, most people don't even bother with it. Smack in the middle of the SLC-area Wasatch, it's sandwiched between Little Cottonwood Canyon to the south and the Park City megalopolis to the north, all of which I had skied extensively - and even ski-bummed - back in the late 1970s. [image] Entrance to the Village at Solitude Until a few years ago, my experience with Big Cottonwood Canyon consisted solely of looking at trail maps, statistics, and descriptions of Solitude and Brighton to gauge whether they were even worth my time. My ongoing conclusion was that they were both way too small, until chance brought me and my family to Solitude around Thanksgiving of 2006. The skiing that day consisted of little more than man-made snow on groomers. But a glance at the potential surrounding me and a few wind drifts just below the top of the Summit chair justified another visit. A month later, I was back in SLC just before Christmas when my daughter and I decided to check it out again. After boarding a UTA bus full of boarders at the mouth of the canyon, the first sign of good things to come was realizing that we were the only ones to disembark at Solitude. The ratio was two of us getting off the bus at Solitude and 50 staying on for Brighton. This seemed promising. The base lodge parking lot was practically empty and the lodge itself was nearly deserted. No lift lines? What's going on? [image] A Fresh "Dusting" In Early April The next good sign was the excellent (even by Utah standards) conditions. The surface across the groomers was uniformly good. More importantly, it was easy to find stashes of foot-deep powder from the previous storm five days earlier. I had found my drug-of-choice mountain and with it a resolve to find a vacation place to buy there. Mind you, up until that point, I had skied only a handful or two of days at Solitude and had only scratched at the expansive terrain options. Two years and multiple trips later, I lucked out and was able to reel in a place to buy. What You Can Expect Virtually every ski area in Utah has the basics: great snow, both challenging and mellow terrain, decent burgers, and 3.2 beer. To sum it up, what I find so attractive about Solitude is precisely because the mountain is so hard to sum up. [image] Ski industry personnel refer to sections of mountains as "terrain pods," which are normally centered around one or more lifts. Each of Solitude's pods has a very distinct character, so a lot of variety is packed within its 1,200 skiable acres. Once you learn your way around, the mountain feels even bigger than it first appears. To really get the flavor of this mountain, let's go on a virtual ski day through Solitude. A typical day often starts at the Moonbeam parking lot. From here, you can buy a ticket at the Moonbeam Lodge and walk a few yards onto the Moonbeam chair. This lift takes you about a third of the way up the mountain. Let's assume that it snowed the night before (not a bad assumption). Instead of wasting time on the Moonbeam area's flats, let's head into the bowl above us, the area served by the Powderhorn II lift: the geographic center of Solitude. Taking the chair up, we rise past the top of the Eagle Express lift on the right (to be saved for a bit later), into the upper half of the bowl. This area has a few wide trails, some tree shots and a cirque full of other steep runs. Before the Powderhorn II lift went in a few years ago, you could easily access powder and cut-up snow almost any time, because fresh tracks would last from storm cycle to storm cycle. The new lift made this part of the mountain much more accessible than before, so if you want pristine powder, this bowl has to be skied quickly after a storm. Let's take a few runs here, one on a trail and another in the cirque in totally untracked conditions. [image] "Diamond Lane" - Powder Heaven After A Storm After a few runs, we'll collect some speed past the bottom of the Powderhorn lift, across some short flats, past the Round House lodge and into the Eagle Express (or simply "Eagle") area. Here, we have a choice of a half dozen or so slopes that provide a great selection of easy blue-trail heaven. At the bottom, you'll run into locals with multi-day and season passes who have bypassed the ticket office and headed straight from the west end of the Moonbeam lot to the lift, vying for first powder. (You'll probably see many of them having tailgate parties in the afternoon.) The lift will be crowded in a Solitude sort of way: either you'll get right on or, worst-case scenario, have to wait one or two chairs before you can load. However, within an hour after the lift opens, this area will be pretty tracked out. [image] Tracking Up Leftovers Under The Eagle Lift The Eagle Express takes us to a saddle on the ridge separating the main side from Honeycomb Canyon. Since it's early in our hypothetical ski day and Honeycomb is still closed for avy control, we'll drop back towards the resort's center, then head to the base at the eastern edge of the resort where the Apex and Sunrise lifts load. The removal of the old Powderhorn lift made this seldom-skied area even less busy. We'll also pass on the handful of runs under the Apex chair that, by the way, are great after a storm. We'll continue with a few runs off the Sunrise lift. Sometimes it seems like Sunrise has been hung out to dry by Solitude's management and it's usually the least crowded part of the mountain. It's a slow chair and you can often hear first-timers on the chair behind you complain about that. Also, the lift starts further uphill from the village than Apex, involving a walk up from the village. [image] Headed Back to the Powderhorn Lift Still, on any given day, the Sunrise area might be my favorite place at Solitude. It's rare to see more than a quarter of the chairs occupied. The blue runs often stash powder into the afternoons and there's some great tree skiing in between. Sunrise is also the most common way to access the Summit chair, which has a bunch of extremely diverse runs. As you move east away from the Summit lift and towards neighboring Brighton ski area, you'll find short drops like Corner Chute and (with a traverse) Evergreen Chute, plus dips past well-spaced trees in the Headwall Forest. While we're here at the Summit, we can also take the Sol-Bright trail to the west edge of Brighton. Alternatively, a drop off the backside (with AT skis, beacon, shovel, probe and a friend or three), could take us right into Little Cottonwood at Alta. Honeycomb Canyon (shown in the photo at the top of the article) is also diverse. It's a long, somewhat circuitous chasm with two primary sides and a long blue-ish run out down the middle with a few steep drops thrown in to keep you on your toes. The south and west side is one long headwall. Traverse as far as you want (or can) and drop in from there to the runout. The farther you traverse, the longer the run and the shorter the run-out. [image] "Dynamite" with Brighton Ski Area in the Background The east/north side of Honeycomb consists largely of tight chutes and trees. Traversing off the Summit chair is an option, but so is going back around front and dropping into the top portion through the gates off the Powderhorn lift or the bottom portion off of Eagle Express. Speaking of which, if you like steep tree stashes, the Navarone and Queen Bess areas are both very worth hitting from the Eagle Express or Honeycomb return lifts. We've just circumscribed the breadth of Solitude, but this has been a brief summary. There's a huge amount we didn't cover, including Solitude's Fantasy Ridge, a crazy rock scramble up and short chutes down to Honeycomb, touted as some of the scariest inbounds skiing in North America. I've never skied it. [image] Queen Bess Woods I've logged at least 50 days at Solitude, but it feels like I've only explored a fraction of the terrain. To sum up my thoughts, following are what I consider Solitude's main selling points: Extensive Exploration Potential On Varied Terrain: The entire vertical is more than 2,000 feet, but the continuous vertical on any single run is far less. If that's a deal killer, go elsewhere. Uncrowded By Nearly Any Standard: Far more elbow room than most other Salt Lake area resorts. Great Snow Quality: Only beaten in this category by Alta and Snowbird. The upside is the comparatively small number of skiers, which means that you can find powder stashed longer than the Park City and Little Cottonwood ski areas. Easy Access: Not only a short drive from SLC airport, but you're unlikely to have road closures (like that other Cottonwood Canyon), and once at the resort you can park practically at the lifts

Guyot Posted on November 6, 2018 | 2 Comments [image] Guyot from approach Mount Guyot is an unremarkable mound of sand and talus lying southeast of the Kaweahs across the deep Kern River valley. It is usually reached out of the high Horseshoe Meadows trailhead via Cottonwood Pass and the Pacific Crest Trail, a 30-mile round-trip hike with not too much elevation gain. I was already in the Lone Pine area and looking for a medium-difficulty outing, and the Horseshoe Meadows road was still open, so I decided to take advantage of it. I sketched out three options: Kern Peak, Muah and Cartago, and Guyot, then headed up the road to sleep on my decision. [image] Big Whitney Meadow? I woke to my 4:30 alarm, and was groggily confused for a minute when my phone said it was 3:30. I belatedly remembered the time change, then pretended to sleep a bit more before finally starting around 5:00 PST. I had done Cottonwood Pass twice before, and its sand and horizontal switchbacks sucked this time as much as the last two, but at least I got to do most of it in the dark. Beyond the pass, the trail makes a near-level traverse around Cirque Peak in a sandy trench before entering Rock Creek. [image] Fancy meeting you here... I had been to the upper Rock Creek crossing to do Joe Devel and its neighbors many years ago, but the lower crossing was new to me, and I had a sinking feeling as I hiked and jogged from 11,200' down to the creek at 9600'. Despite the perfect conditions, there aren't many people out in the high country now, so I was surprised to see someone coming up the trail toward me, and even more so to realize that it was Robert! Oddly, he seemed to half-expect me to be out in the area. We talked for awhile, then I continued, glad to have randomly chosen this hike among my three options. [image] Kaweahs across Kern From Rock Creek, the trail switchbacks up the north side, then continues along Guyot Creek to the saddle between Guyot and Chamberlain. I left it somewhere on the flat before the pass, angling for Guyot's northeast ridge. The slope looked miserably sandy from below, but there were enough boulders to offer solid footing for most of the climb. I had been sweating in a t-shirt on the south-facing slope, so I welcomed the breeze when I finally reached the ridge. I stayed on or right of the crest on the climb to the summit crags, finding the occasional recent footprint. [image] Kern headwaters Guyot has several possible summit rocks, so of course the highest is the farthest away. I grabbed the register can, then sat out of the wind on the sunny south side to peruse the recent entries and have a sandwich. As expected, I noticed Robert from earlier in the day, and Iris (who Robert had told me was backpacking the area's peaks) from the day before. I finished my sandwich, then descended the ridge a ways before dropping down the face. I avoided the rocks this time, enjoying the sand between them on my way back to the trail. [image] Smoke in the southern Kern I stopped to dump the sand out of my shoes, then hiked and jogged back down to Rock Creek, dreading the climb back to Cottonwood Pass. Nearing the creek crossing, I saw a familiar figure sitting on the bear box, and startled her with a loud "Hi, Iris!" I had another early start planned for the next day, but chose company over speed for the slog back to Horseshoe Meadows. We traded packs, then took off through the woods on the gradual switchbacks and meandering trail. Lively conversation made the long sand-slog pass much less painfully. A short distance down the other side of the pass, I looked at my watch and the sun, and realized that I needed to hurry in order to get ready and get enough sleep for the next day. I gave Iris back her overnight pack, then took off jogging down the horizontal switchbacks. I soon got frustrated, and cut directly down the open, sandy slope to the base. With a bit of jogging, I reached the trailhead about 12 hours after starting, then drove north into the night to make some more sandwiches before crashing at the next trailhead. [image] Big Whitney Meadow? [image] Rock Creek junction [image] Fancy meeting you here... [image] Guyot from approach [image] Kaweahs across Kern [image] Kern headwaters [image] Smoke in the southern Kern This entry was posted in California. Bookmark the permalink

Donut Bar: San Diego's Pop Culture Donut Shop This small, walk up donut shop in the heart of San Diego is where I found myself before my time at the San Diego Convention Center for ComicCon in 2014. It came highly recommended, and I had seen so many positive reviews that I was slightly nervous it would not live up to the hype. I was set at ease when I got in the ten person line and saw that the donuts and the workers were embracing the comic madness and had both dressed up as their favorite heroes and made donuts for Batman, Spiderman, and Captain America. This was enough to get me excited about what Thrillist described as "one of the 22 best donut places in the United States." Here is all the information. [image] Details Hours: Mon-Fri 7 am - 1 pm, Sat-Sun 8 am - 12 pm Prices are around 3-4 dollars a donut This post is from 2014 and 2016, so some of the information may have changed. Update 2016 I went back and visited Donut Bar in 2016, and it has changed a lot since this post. [image] The location itself has almost doubled in size from the small little shop it started as. [image] There is a lot more room for lines now, and the donuts are in a more prominent display. [image] They have also changed the art on the walls and brought in beer options as well. It is still an excellent spot for donuts though, so at least that hasn't changed. Make sure to grab a creme brulee one, and you can read my original post below. Original Post from 2014 [image] The place itself is tiny, but they are opening an upstairs area that should allow for people to hang out and relax while eating their donuts. When I was there, it was a grab and go kind of place. The line is always long, I hear, but it was only about 10 minutes for me to get to the front and that ten minutes was spent salivating over the donuts lining the window. [image] As I said before, Donut Bar embraces pop culture. From their superhero donuts to Breaking Bad donuts, they have fun with the names and the designs of the donuts by keeping it fresh and switching them often. [image] I really wanted to try a superhero donut, but they were all strange flavors like cherry, cotton candy, banana, etc. I still decided to give the Captain America (cotton candy) donut a try. Along with that, I got chocolate bacon (never seen one of those), creme brulee (complete with a hardened top like the dessert) and Nutella, here is what I thought. [image] Chocolate Bacon - I was excited to try this donut as I love maple bacon. I would say that it was good, but I now realize why maple bacon is the one everyone makes. The chocolate does not go with the bacon as much as the maple does. Worth a try but stick with maple. [image] Captain America Cotton Candy - I was very afraid of this as I don't love cotton candy, but I would say this was a success. It had a great flavor that made the cotton candy enjoyable instead of weird. Plus, it looked like Captain America's shield. [image] Creme Brulee - This one was one of the most unique, so I figured it was worth a try. It was a small donut with a hardened top, just like the burned top of the typical dessert. It also had a creme in the middle, and it was a very unique donut but also very good. Nutella - My least favorite of the group. It was a good donut but did not have that strong Nutella flavor that everyone loves. [image] All in all, I do think that Donut Bar is a great place to have a donut. The prices are a little high at around 3 dollars a donut, but if you are a fan, I am sure you will find something to like here. Let me know if you have been in the comments

Kautz-Emmons Traverse, Mt. Rainier [image] June 22, 2021 engineeredforadventure Blog, Trip Report No Comments Background I had been away from skiing in Washington for prime ski mountaineering season; granted, it was because I went to climb Denali, so I shouldn't complain too much...but still, I had built up some stoke for the next high pressure window. Nick and I threw around a bunch of ideas, but most of them revolved around Rainier. It was supposed to be HOT...we needed to get up high. The set up seemed ideal for some volcano corn harvesting, so we set our sights on the big Tahoma. Trip Report We opted to go for an overnight of Rainier, rather than a single day push, mostly because we didn't want to wake up crazy early. Taking it easier and waking up to the sunrise high on the mountain sounded really pretty. We drove up to Paradise Saturday morning with the intent of trying to ski the Kautz Glacier route after climbing it. There had been a large dump of snow recently that we had heard filled in the Kautz ice chute, possibly making it skiable. The Kautz is traditionally an ice climbing route, but in the right conditions it can be skied, and the setup seemed right. We drove to an overlook on the road to get some telephoto pictures of the upper mountain for recon. Sadly, the Kautz did not look "in"; it seemed like there was some white ice and scoured snow on the upper headwall. [image] The red lines denotes what would have been a ski descent of the Kautz route. Dang it. We were a bit bummed. Hmm....what should we do?!? The Success Couloir looked smooth, but we couldn't see the lower slopes of the line, which often has a large bergschrund to manage. It seemed risky to head all the way out to that part of the mountain with no real information. Nick and I had heard that the Emmons route had filled in nicely with the latest storm and was skiing well; it would involve a 3 hour car shuttle over to White River and then back to Paradise, but it seemed to be more of a "guarantee" that we would achieve something with the weekend. The idea of an up-and-over intrigued us: we had both already climbed the Emmons, so just doing the Emmons didn't entice us much. But climbing the Kautz and then skiing the Emmons felt a bit aesthetic, a "traverse" of sorts. We grabbed our permit from the rangers at Paradise, hopped in the cars for the long drive, and left a car at White River. We had a sinking feeling in our chest when returning to Paradise around 1 PM on Saturday to a MOBSCENE. There were so many people that we were sure there would not be any parking; for a brief moment, we discussed what we would do if we couldn't find any parking. Uhhhh..... By a stroke of pure luck, there was a lone parking spot....RIGHT next to our buddy Anthony Marra. How funny! He was up on the mountain carrying a 3 year old to the summit via the DC route. I know...crazy. Climb Up to Camp Hazard We got an alpine start of 1 PM...LOL. It was already hot and the crowds were out and about on the Muir Snowfield. Fortunately we were off the beaten path on our way cross the lower Nisqually towards Camp Hazard. The route was sealed up well, with no major crevasses to report. We didn't rope up but each carried a rope in our pack in the event a rescue would have been necessary. We saw a party of climbers ahead of us climbing up to the ridge, but we opted to traverse further along the Turtle Snowfield before transitioning to booting. [image] Climbers gaining the ridge. We opted to remain on skis and traverse below the cliff bands in the lower right hand corner of the photo. Thankfully a nice booter had been put in by previous groups. We took a nice break above the Castle and then continued on to Camp Hazard, climbing the Turtle rather than trying to skin it. The snow was mushy and sliding a bit underfoot, so we felt it was a safer bet. [image] Nick skinning up towards the Turtle Snowfield on the Nisqually Glacier. [image] Nick cruising through the nice booter on the Turtle Snowfield. Around 10,800' we gained the ridgeline again and started to see bivy sites as we neared Camp Hazard. The "camp" is quite informal, more like a series of bivy spots. We found one that we liked and Nick stayed put as I ventured up a ways more to see if there were any that were better. NOPE! This would be our home for the night. [image] Nick pulling into camp for the night. [image] What a camp spot! Dinner with a view! We reached camp around 7 PM and make some dinner, then watched the beautiful light show that was sunset over the surroundings. We planned to wake up around 5 AM and start by 6; we anticipated that the climb up the Kautz to the summit would take us between 4 and 5 hours. It was only 3,600' or so from our camp at 10,800', but there would be some time delays due to a rock step we had to maneuver to get down onto the Kautz, as well as the ice chutes that would likely require some slower climbing. We figured we'd make up time once we reached the upper Nisqually and cruise to the top from there. Given the heat of the day, we wanted to be dropping onto the Emmons around noonish. We aimed to top out around 11-1130 AM, giving ourselves some time on top to enjoy the view. Climbing the Kautz We packed up and were heading out of camp just after 6 AM towards Camp Hazard ~proper~. There was a party ahead of us that had started to head up around 30 minutes prior, so we figured we would catch up to them around the ice chute. Our first "crux" of the day was down climbing the rock step out of Camp Hazard to get down to the Kautz Glacier. There was a handline that we could use to rappel, but the trickiness was just maneuvering with skis on our backs. [image] Nick's photo of me trying to squeeze down the rockstep, while holding on to the handline. It was a bit messy, but overall it went relatively smoothly. I slipped a bit while trying to climb down onto the snow below the rock step, but caught myself with my hand belay. We could have taken off our packs and handed them down, which would have made the down climb much easier. Oh well...next time. [image] Down at the bottom of the rock step. Nick's picture. Once we were down off of the rock step, we made haste travelling underneath some large seracs. We didn't want to increase the amount of time we had with this overhead hazard. [image] Nick's photo of the traverse under the seracs over to the Kautz ice chute. Once we completed the traverse under the seracs, we were in the ice chutes. We could see the group ahead of us making their way up the lower chute. [image] The party ahead of us making their way up the lower chute. The lower chute was just firm snow and Nick and I felt more comfortable soloing it than being roped up. We quickly caught up to the party ahead as they were preparing to climb up the upper chute, which was firmer ice. They were going to simul-climb, but their leader was gearing up to place screws as he went. For a moment, Nick and I thought we could solo the left-hand side around them. We quickly realized that was NOT going to be a good idea. [image] Nick tries to go hero mode around the party ahead of us. He down climbed just before reaching the ice bulge. We dialed it back and realized we were going to be stuck behind the party ahead, so we might as well rope up and protect the short pitch of ice. No need to get into trouble. The ice was aerated and poor quality, and "dinner-plated" easily when driving in a pick or crampon spike. We were in the blast zone, getting showered on as the party ahead climbed up through the chute. We found some protection by pulling off to climber's left a bit, but the ice came crashing down on the climbers at the end of the rope. I asked Nick if he wanted me to lead or he wanted to lead the short ice pitch, and he wanted to give it a go. He was excited to get on some alpine ice and test out his ice climbing skills. I would follow and clean the route. Nick crushed it, doing a great job of moving smoothly through really garbage ice. I followed and cleaned the route, removing the screws from some ugly grey ice. [image] Nick Murad the ice climber! Atop the upper chute we got our poles back out and transitioned to glacier travel for the upper Nisqually. The booting conditions were great, firm underfoot and no crevasses to deal with. We took a quick break above the Wilson Cleaver before heading up onto the Kautz Headwall for the final push to the crater rim. [image] Nick heads up on the upper Nisqually as we head towards the top of the rocky Wilson Cleaver, seen in the upper right corner of the picture. The views over the surroundings below were incredible. Even though the route wasn't that steep, the verticality felt exciting, as the mountain wrapped down towards the skyline. [image] The upper headwall was firm snow but wasn't ice, like we had predicted based on the telephoto pictures we had taken the day before. It would have skied, but not well. Oh well...we'll just have to come back another time! Nick and I reached the crater rim just before 11 AM, a bit delayed from being stuck behind the other party at the ice chute but not bad timing! We trucked on over to the summit and enjoyed a relatively windless top out! [image] Nick making his way towards the crater rim as we crest the upper Kautz. [image] Nick near the top. Emmons Ski Descent Now it was time to...SKI! We were stoked for the up-and-over, a ski descent on the other side of the mountain. It was a bit of an unknown to be dropping down onto the Emmons Glacier without having climbed the route, but we had heard good reports of conditions on the upper Emmons after the recent storm. We were able to click in at the summit and ski over the ridge where the Emmons descent began. We knew there would be a roll-over to a bergschrund around 13,600', so we skied cautiously and followed the bootpack until we were able to gain view of the roll. The upper mountain was firm windboard and a bit of sastrugi, so it wasn't like we were going to be ripping turns anyway. [image] Nick making turns on the upper mountain. Again, the verticality of skiing down on the upper mountain felt exhilarating; our vantage point made it feel like we were skiing down into the abyss below. [image] Once we got past the bergschrund, there were still some crevasses to deal with before we made the traverse over towards the Corridor, but all of them were well bridged and easy to identify. A few parties we passed mentioned that none were of concerning stability, even to booting parties. [image] Nick ripping some turns with Liberty Cap in the background. Around 13,000' we started to get better snow as it turned to corn. The traverse over through the "Alpine Garden" (as I think it is called) towards the Corridor started to get even better, and once we reached the top of the Corridor it was proper corn. We were SO excited. We were going to get the Corridor in perfect corn!! I spotted a cool vantage with Little Tahoma in the background and skied down a few turns to snap a picture of Nick ripping corn with Little T behind him. MONEY! [image] Throughout the Corridor the snow was amazing corn; there were a few crevasses to manage, but as long as we kept our eyes open and speed up they were no problem to manage. Nick decided to get a little air over one of them that I opted to traverse around. None of the crevasses were unavoidable; all had small traverses that moved around them. [image] The Corridor was SO GOOD that we only snapped one more picture before agreeing, "Let's just ski!". [image] The snow got a little mushy on the slopes just above Camp Schurman, but overall the snow quality was both amazing and consistent. We took a quick water break at Camp Schurman and looked back up at our line. [image] The full route from Camp Schurman. [image] The upper mountain. You can see the bootpack up the bergschrund in the upper portion of the photo. We skied down Emmons Flats and over to the Inter Glacier, where the good corn continued! We took the Inter Glacier all the way down to Glacier Basin camp, where we took off our skis and transitioned to trail runners (or Chacos for Nick, lol). The hike out was mostly snow-covered until around 1.5 miles from the trailhead. Final Notes Overall, the route was in great shape. The recent snow storm really filled in the upper mountain and smoothed out any suncups or pentites that may have been present. The Kautz was a fun climb that added some complexity to a normal slog up Rainier. Camp Hazard felt much more remote than the other alpine camps on the mountain like Camp Muir or Camp Schurman. The up-and-over may have been a nuisance in terms of driving, but it sure was fun to see both sides of the mountain in one weekend. This can totally be done in a single day push, but we really enjoyed taking it easy and enjoying both the sunrise and sunset. Mt. Rainie