Dog Days 19, 20, 21 -- 4/23-25/2011

YOU CAN’T TAKE your dog into a restaurant, grocery store, or barber shop.  But the good news is that, in many areas, you can take your dog skiing!

[mason, solar engineer]

With vast amounts of snow heaped all over the western mountains, skiing is stellar, and the exceptional conditions should continue into the summer months.  (Note: Mammoth is talking about a twelve-month season.)  Though Brad and I haven’t skied together since his move to Alameda in late January, we hooked up for a three-day Easter exploratory trip to the western Sierras.  (My Sierra experience, though considerable, is limited to the “east side”.)

Carson Pass, southeast of Tahoe, is a hugely popular backcountry destination, with a vast selection of world class peaks and descents.  We had the good luck to hook up with a veteran of the region, Mason Terry, a solar engineer from Palo Alto, who provided great route finding and beta.  An additional benefit was his dog Kali, a robust Chow-Lab mix who jaunted ahead of us on the uptrack,

[kali, hardy mountain guide]

and dashed downslope with the glee of any true-blue shredder.  For a twelve-year-old (82 in human years), Kali proved to be a hearty and inexhaustible alpinist, usually jaunting ahead and turning back, wondering why we were such slowpokes.

Brad’s dog, Luke, was along for the weekend.  But on a past trip a few years ago out of Utah’s Amerian Fork, Luke struggled in the breakable crust and Brad was concerned if he was suitably conditioned for the rigors of a long day at
high altitude.  So Luke stayed behind for our second day in the cabin at Sorenson’s Resort. (A plug here for the wonderful hospitality and great food at this little cabin enclave 15 miles east of the Kirkwood.)

[kali leads to summit]

So Sunday, with Kali leading the way with the keen route finding acumen of a seasoned alpine guide, we climbed Steven’s Peak -- no relation, though I did feel a sense of kinship after two creamy powder runs from the 10,000 foot summit.

[first turns off mt. stevens]

Monday was our getway day and Brad decided to give Luke a tryout in the relatively mellow terrain east of Red Lake  -- mellow in the sense that this would only rate a single black diamond at a regular ski resort.  Luke proved a natural mountaineer, bounding ahead, around, off into the trees, back down to reconnect.  If we traveled three miles, Luke probably covered three times that, investigating every scent, probing every stump and varmint hole.  He was in sensory nirvana, overwhelmed by an infinite palette of natural stimuli.

[dude, let's ski!]

At a rock-pile peak overlooking the east rim of Red Lake, he bounded up the wind-scoured rocks for his first alpine summit.  Then came the real fun – the plunge back down to the car.  Luke dove down the fall line, a true shredder, porpoising through the deep snow, hooked on the thrill of a steep and deep line through the trees.

Mountains seem a natural habitat for dogs, which reminds me a my climb of Pico Orizaba in Mexico.  On a training dash up Malinche (14,500), we were joined by a companion group of feral local dogs who happily guided the rugged talus route to the summit block.  They scrambled to the top for the meager reward of a piece of Power Bar or some sandwich scraps. But, equally I think, they simply appreciated
the amicable company of fellow high-altitude travelers.

It was a great intro day for Luke, and now that he has proven his chops, no doubt the first of many in coming seasons.  In sum, this was a great ski weekend in new terrain, gaining three new ski buds – Mason and Kali from Palo Alto, and Luke, the shredder dog.

Weekend's Vertical: 6,500                           Season to Date: 66,500

Shop Talk -- 4/21/2011

TODAY’S SKI TECHNOLOGY is driven by carbon fiber, graphite bases, and titanium technologies.  But will a ski weekend be saved by a fifty/sixty year old hardware store staple?

[the Markers/Salomon of their day]

A trip was set for the Western Sierra over the Easter weekend of April 23 to 25.  With my primary ski kit stored in Utah, I was going to have to make do with older ski gear that I keep in SoCal for quick trips to the Sierras and local mountains.

[bear traps circa 1950]

I have a nearly 10-year-old pair of BD Crossbows, a proven lightweight that I remember for dozens of great days – from Utah, to the Eastern Sierras, Mammoth, and one trip up and down Shasta.  However, these skis have already been drilled more times than a company of Marine Corps “boots”, twice with Fritschis, once with Dynafits.  Ski mechanic doctrine holds that skis should never be mounted more than twice.  But I have evolved into a complete disciple of the feather-weight Dynafit line and ordered a pair of TLT Speeds to replace the mounted Fritischis, providing me a low-weight SoCal setup.

[Dynafit heel piece]

I don’t have access to a Dynafit mounting template but the drill holes from the last Dynafits were still present, sealed with silicone.  After cleaning the holes, I realized that the mounting screws were a less-than-bomber fit.  The idea of a binding tearing loose, miles into the backcounty, was sobering.  So how to insure a snug screw fit?  Superglue?  Epoxy?  Chewing gum?

[steel wool sprouts]

Then a thought occurred from my early days of skiing (50s/60s) when the “bear trap” was the Marker Jesters of their day, a steel box that clamped the toe of the boot to the ski.  It was common then to frequently adjust the span of the clamshell to accommodate growing feet and loan-outs to ski buddies.  Mounting screws were constantly loosened and re-tightened, resulting in sloshy screw holes.  The low-tech fix was steel wool, shredded into short clumps and wadded into the holes.  A few shreds from a twenty-cent boll of steel wool created a bomber fit.

[the old tech standby]

So, considering my sloppy ski holes, that 50-year-old solution came to mind.  At my local Osh store, steel wool was no longer two bits but four bucks for a package, Medium Coarse.

Back at the work bench, I twirled off a few strands of the steel wool and twisted them into the holes.  Then a few drops of epoxy as a concession to modern materials.  Placing the Dynafit components over the pre-drilled holes, I tightened the screws.  A snug fit, torqued down hand-tight.  With the old Fritschi screw holes sealed with silicone, we were ready to hit the road. 

[mounted and ready to ski -- 400 miles away]

Sintered graphite bases, Densolite cores, carbide steel dura edges.  And wadded steel wool.  We’ll be in the Sierras, southwest of Tahoe for three days.  A great test to see how a fifty-year-old low tech solution holds up.

All this is testimony to the fact that western mountains are still piling up record amounts of snow and late-season skiing is still epic.  In fact, Mammoth Mountain has recorded so much snow this season that they are talking about a 12-month season.  So, expect more posts here.

Day 18 -- 2/27/2011

THE SAN GABRIEL Mountains form a massive barrier between the Los

Angeles basin and the Mojave Desert.  With peaks rising to 10,000 feet, the San Gabriels are geologically recognized as one of the steepest and fastest growing ranges in the world.  Anywhere in the world but L.A., where “big” is accepted as a kind of norm, this range would be regarded as a significant alpine feature.  (Mt. Mansfield in my native Vermont Green Mountains would hardly even create a bulge in the list of top peaks in the San Gabes.)

[the crystaline l.a. skies]

As of early February, my reliable Wasatch crash-pad is no longer available and I have had to relocate my base of operations to my home in Pasadena, better known as the home of Tournament of Roses.  However Pasadena, with its not-so-untypical January 70 degree temperatures, is also at the foot of the San Gabriels, which comb high altitude weather currents and can pile up significant heaps of snow during the California rainy season.

[spiny yucca darts]

This year has been a record breaker for moisture and cool temperatures and snow has been stacking in the San Gabriels, most notably on the flanks of Mount Baldy (10,068), which is about 30 miles as the crow flies from the parking lot of my neighborhood Starbucks, where I fueled up early on February 27th. Up to three feet of new powder had stacked up on the higher elevations, with temperatures on the peaks in the teens.

The first challenge, arriving at Manker Flats 6,000 feet above Claremont, was just finding a place to park.  Hundreds of families had already arrived, jammed and double-parked on either side of the road, turning the shoulders into a slick and sticky white rave.

[Dave Braun's smooth sweeps]

I have summited Baldy at least ten times, in every season, but this was the first time I have been able to skin directly from the Manker trailhead.  A track was already in place by 9 a.m.   A good thing because I wouldn’t be breaking 4,000 feet of trail.  But it also meant I wasn’t here with an original idea.

The air was crystalline and the snow deep, making prickly puff balls of the succulent yucca plants.  Note to self: do not fall on one of these dagger balls on the way down.  It’s a long way to the nearest ER.

At 8,200 feet, the flat spaces around the Sierra Club hut were crowded with arrivals from a couple of hiking groups, working on their snow travel skills.  Baldy Bowl rises in a huge sweep above the hut to the summit and I only counted a half dozen sets of tracks.  Close to a mile in diameter, Baldy Bowl is so huge that it would even stagger Little Cloud Bowl and the Ballroom chutes.  Though the air temperature was in the high 20s, the radiant heat off the snow made it T-shirt weather and I knew the snow would turn to sticky mush by afternoon.

[resting, summit ridge]

On the way to the summit ridge I ran into a guy from La Canada who had already turned a few laps and was moving fast on a light set-up of free-heels and Goode carbons – not the kind of advanced gear you would expect to find in the So Cal mountains.  Dave was scrolling beautiful turns, systematically ticking off the series of chutes that channel down into the bowl from the summit ridge.

[the oscar for best...]

I picked one of the chutes that Dave had already tracked, a 50 degree couloir pinched at two choke points, less than a couple ski-lengths wide at the narrows.  The snow was creamy and stable.  The pay-off for three hours of climbing was a 90 second drop back into the bowl.  A worthwhile return on investment?  Damn straight!

I looked back up the well-grooved track to the ridgeline for another lap.  But it was nearly 2 and I had been invited to an Oscar party.  I also knew the terrain below the hut would be melting, rocky, and cautious going.  And, hey, it’s still Hollywood.

Day's Vertical: 3,600.                          Season to Date: 60,000