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

Day 17 -- 2/18/2011

[comfort class at 24k]

[the captain, pre flight]

WITHOUT MY FRIENDS and their generous hospitality, there is no way I would be able to amass the number of ski days I enjoy over the course of the season.  This past weekend – Feb. 17 - 21 – I was able to catch a ride up to Park City on John Rigney’s super cushy Cheyenne turbo prop.  Having already driven two round-trippers this season from Pasadena to Salt Lake,

[altitude gain the hard way]

 it was a joy to stretch out in the comfy pressurized cabin, seat tilted back with feet up on the facing seat, while I dozed comfortably on the two-and-a-half hour trip at 24,000 feet above the storms and turbulence.

We skied twice over the weekend, with the second day in two feet of freshies at Career (Deer) Valley.  The snow was creamy and knee-deep.  But even the most secretive DV powder stashes were shredded up by mid morning.  Plus, at 90 Samoleans for a lift ticket, it reinforces why so many skiers are chosing manual ascent.

Two days earlier, John and I did just that.  We started out from the upper Alta Parking lot, headed for East Silverfork.  However two hundred yards into the ascent, John’s Dynafit heel tower snapped.  But thanks to a quick repair at Black Diamond, Retail Manager Dennis Maw saved the day and we were back on our way into the mountains via Big Cottonwood to enjoy a steep, untracked descent off the backside of Short Swing, north of the Spruces area.  Another day enjoyed, thanks to the kindness of good friends.

For those skiing the Dynafit line, here is a great instructional video from Lou Dawson with tips for smooth operation of the sometimes tricky binding.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_DysqbyjyRc&feature=related

Day's Vertical: 1,900.  Season to Date: 56,400

Days 15, 16 - 2/2 - 2/4/2011

WE KNOW THAT VIGOROUS activity, in the form of sports, creates an array of benefits: good heart health, weight control, and a balanced emotional life.  But, personally speaking, I am intrigued by the way that sports reveals the true measure of an individual.  I once played racquetball with a casual acquaintance who I tended to think of as generally self-absorbed, petty, and not particularly.  Suitable company for an hour of bashing the ball around, but nobody I was going trust with any investments.

[gone for California]

Our skills matched up well and the level of our games improved on roughly the same arc.  Simon (not his real name) was a focused player who ferociously challenged every point.  He fought to the
last drop of sweat or gram of energy to beat you, and was childishly jubilant when he won, though never gloating at the expense of his adversary.  And when the points didn’t go his way, Simon was a gracious loser, never putting the blame on his racquet, the lights, the court.  When a call was close, he usually conceded the point.  So over the course of our playing relationship, I noticed a turnabout on my opinion of the man.  Through the crucible of intensely wrought competition, I observed a guy who I had came to admire and even regard with a kind of affection.

This story is to preface a turn of events that has completely changed this ski season for me.  My friend Brad, a durable and skilled backcountry companion, and a figure in many of these blog entries, has been forced by this devastating job market to give up his Wasatch home and relocated for work in The Bay area.  From our first meeting, I recognized Brad as a cheerful, generous, and reliable fellow.   But it was through the process of skiing, climbing, and biking together that I came to recognize his more enduring qualities:  an uncommon civility and gregariousness, calm under fire, and a keen mind for the nuances of personality and character
.

[the payoff]

Safely climbing and skiing these mountains is a formidable undertaking.  Grinding uphill, sometimes for hours on end with a 15 or 20 pound back, on heavy skis and boots, often in brutal weather – this is no pursuit for the casual recreationalist.  But the pay-off comes in the opportunity to ski snow and terrain that would normally be prohibited within the bounds of most ski areas.  The backcountry also presents many hazards, not the least of which are avalanches, frostbite, treed terrain, and unarrested plunges down glassy chutes.  People who will hold your life at the end of a 9 millimeter rope must be proven for skill, reliability, and good judgment.  In my friend Brad Carroll, these characteristics were only completely revealed through many hard days crossing the Wasatch, Sierras, Rainier, and the Alps.  It’s the pursuit of sports, at its extreme boundaries, that brings out these traits.

[new cohort - David, Tom, Sue]

Brad has this genius for picking up conversations with completely strangers, and since meeting on an airport parking shuttle in 2003, we have skied and climbed hundreds of days together.  Though he may have moved to the more civil flats of the Bay tideline, I am sure we will ski and climb again.  Still, an era has passed and my days in the mountains will never be quite the same
.

I have taken up with a new cohort in the backcountry.  Returning to Utah from a circular tour of New York and Vermont, I hooked up with David Kliger, a convert from the miserable ski rinks of Northern New England, and two of his Connecticut friends, Sue and Tom.  Highly agreeable folks and skilled skiers with a helpful and informed wariness of backcountry travel.

[Sue and Dave at minus 8]

With minus eight and ten degree temps on February 2^nd, we layered up and found good snow in the Rocky Point and Dry Creek drainage off the back of Alta’s Supreme Lift.  February 4^th was milder (slightly) with a stellar plunge down Holy Toledo, then shits-and-giggles-good laps off the north side of Benson Ridge.  Though I have seen enough to trust their skills and mountain judgement, I haven’t skied enough days with them to fill out a true picture of their temper and nature. But that will come.  You know, sports has a way of doing that.

Days' Vertical: 3,100 and 3,000     Season to Date: 54,500

Eastside Ski Notes -- 1/25/11

[Mohonk and the skinny ski set]

Let’s face it: if you ski enough, you’ll eventually reach the point where the resort just won’t satisfy your powder jones anymore. Even on the deepest days, runs get tracked out too fast, and you find yourself venturing into the slackcountry. You duck the rope, traverse for 15 minutes, drop in on the 400 feet of untracked snow that you find, and then traverse back at the bottom. So, what do you do when those few hundred feet of fresh are no longer enough? You leave the lifts and crowds behind and get into the backcountry.
So begins an excellent article in Backcountry.com describing the process of going from the in-bounds to the out-of-bounds ski lifestyle.
Read more at:
http://www.backcountry.com/store/newsletter/a1141/Slackcountry-to-Backcountry.html?cmp_id=EM_SAL1290a4&mv_pc=r105&rmid=BC_01_11_Newsletter&rrid=74960826
Or just go to Backcountry.com and click on the article "Slackcountry to Backcountry."  And be sure to take note of the other great articles, gear reports, and links.
Relocated for the short term to New York and Vermont, my "backcountry skiing" has been limited to track skiing in Vermont and the Mohonk Preserve.  I've been a long time away from the skinny ski culture, but once you get your stride back, "skating" is a great conditioner and a skill-set all its own. 

Day 14 -- 1/11/11

MATISSE AND RED BLOOD CELLS may seem like an odd mash up, but I will try to make my point.  After a month at sea level in Pasadena and Las Vegas, I found myself growing somewhat ambivalent in my usual passion for being in the mountains.  But then finally back in Utah, we started from our familiar staging point at Alta Lodge and began our well-traveled Powerline route to the ridgeline.

High altitude medical studies seem pretty uniform in the idea that red blood cells – the couriers of oxygen – tend to decrease to normal levels after a couple weeks away from high altitude environment.  Which means that returning to the mountains after a few weeks means that you have to reboot your red cell build-up from scratch and suffer the effects of acclimatization like regular sea-level folks.  However, in my own experience, I have found that after year’s-long exertion at altitude, my ability to function well in thin air seems to rebound pretty quickly.  So after an hour or so in the skin track, I realized I was moving well and sustaining a credible cadence.  (Brad said we were climbing at about 1,000 feet per hour; not at peak pace, but respectable, given my month-long glut of sea-level oxygen.)

[reaping the rewards]

The air was exceptionally clear.  The view from near 11,000 feet was spectral, with infinity only impaired by the natural bend of the earth.  The climb to Heart of Darkness pass was burly, especially the last 300 feet of boot-packing to the ridge through 60 degree junk-pile lee deposit.  But then, standing at the divide between two vast basins, barely a ski track in sight, that ambivalence vanished.  The arctic wind was gusting, turning our exposed skin to crystal; the footing was fractured and unstable and a false step could mean a 500-foot ass luge to the emergency room.  What most reasonably minded people would call misery.

But standing atop a summit, every step earned equity, is something I call humble superiority.  The ambivalence was supplanted by the kind of exalted tinyness I feel in the mountains.  This was a brief layover in Utah and two days later I am in Manhattan, back at sea level, restoring my red blood cell count to consumer level metabolism.  But I travel back to the summit for a moment and think of the Matisse caption that accompanies one of his late-in-life construction paper pieces.  It goes something like: "Elle vit apparaître le matin. Elle se tut discrètement" .  Which I believe crudely translates to: she saw the beauty of the morning; she shut the fuck up.

Day’s Vertical: 4,400.  Season to Date: 48,400.

Day 13 -- 12/15/10

DAWN PATROL is an age old tradition in Wasatch backcountry – provided your age old is something like 32 years old.  But a tradition has to start somewhere and local folklore has it that Black Diamond Equipment employees, going back to Alex Lowe’s days in retail, initiated the idea of rising at four a.m., driving up the canyons to start climbing by headlamp by five, with the idea of reaching to top at sunbreak for a couple of quick runs, completed in time to get back down the canyon and punch in for a 9 a.m. start time at work.

So my durable ski partner, Brad Carroll, and I decided to take up the condition, though it is well known that for me, rising at any hour before nine is grounds for a grievance with Amnesty International.  But thank God Brad is a cheerful and functioning early riser.  And with coffee brewing, sandwiches Zip-locked, and skis on the car, my sole responsibility.

In my complete robotic state, I somehow managed to shoot enough video to create a movie of the experience, linked here.  As for future Dawn Patrol outings, I recall the Japanese aphorism: “Only a fool fails to climb Mt. Fuji; only a fool climbs it more than once.”  Though, I must say that arriving at the summit as the sun broke over the southern ridgeline was transcendent and I realized that I am an incorrigible fool for the undisturbed beauty of fresh light on fresh snow.

Go to the link and watch the movie:

http://www.vimeo.com/17912001

Day’s Vertical: 4,100.  Season to Date: 44,000.

Days 11,12 - 12/9-12/12

AVALANCHE HAZARD evaluation and safe travel are critical elements to a successful return from a visit to the backcountry.  I have been skiing out of bounds since about 1988.  And with the introduction of high-quality, lightweight touring equipment, the number of wilderness skiers and riders has increased tenfold since those days of Ramer lobster trap bindings and purple Ascension skins that only came in a maximum width of 55cm.

Since about that time, I have participated in dozens of hours of avalanche awareness seminars, field trips, and beacon search drills.  I have accumulated my avalanche awareness skills in a rather haphazard blend of this informal training and practical field experience.  During this time, new avalanche methodology, language, and practices have evolved and I thought it was time to aggregate and expand my knowledge of backcountry travel.
I participated in Level 1 training, sponsored by the American Avalanche Institute.  This is the first of three levels and was held over the weekend of 12/9 to 12/12/2010, with two evening classroom sessions and two days of field training.  To many, it probably sounds like boring stuff.  But avalanche awareness is not about just personal safety.  It is about the safety of your touring partners and others who use the skiing wilderness and depend upon shared information and hazard recognition, as posted in online sites such as the Utah Avalanche Center.  It follows a doctrine of mutual assistance.  For instance, BC skiers carry a beacon, not just to be located in the event of burial, but also to use in receive mode to locate others who may have been trapped in a release.
Speaking from personal experience, AAI offers a great program at all levels.  But a number of organizations provide equally top-rate instruction.  The courses are very reasonably priced and must be considered essential to anyone who wants to travel on the snow safely and better understand the truly complex nature of the landscape we tread lightly upon.

To illustrate that it's not all science and observation, I include the attached video that demonstrates that class time includes recess in one of the vastest playgrounds you can imagine.

Two Days Vertical: 4,200.  Season to Date: 39,900.