ryanl

Trip: Bandit - Black Hole Couloir Date: 3/2/2008 Trip Report: I love Washington. I love John Scurlock. Hemming and hawing about what to do on Sunday had me staring at a photograph that's been on my mind ever since I first saw it I can't remember when: http://www.pbase.com/nolock/image/57354353 I knew Phil would be interested. An email late Saturday afternoon got a call soon thereafter. "What time do you want to leave tomorrow?" "Does three seem unreasonable?" "Yes. It always does. See you then." Phil showed up early. He apologized and went to sleep in the driver’s seat while I finished getting my shit together. Something very unsettling about seeing a driver fall asleep so easily. I did my best to stay awake during the drive. A little before Stevens Pass we encountered fresh snow falling. By the time we hit the pass the roads were covered. Phil drove slowly. At Cole’s Corner the stars had come out and the night was beautiful. "Could be a good day Phil," I said. By the time we got to the trailhead I’d finished a full thermos plus one travel mug of coffee, and had eaten a freshly made jimmy dean pork sausage biscuit bought from a Chevron somewhere en route. Delicious. We made a half hearted attempt at locating the trailhead to Napeequa crossing, but opted instead to cut thru Tall Timber ranch. Phil remembered the trail as having being circuitous from when he had taken it last year to reach a nearby couloir. I needed no convincing. All that stood between us and where we wanted to go was Tall Timber, some private property, and a few "No Trespassing" signs. So moving quietly in the predawn night, somewhere between 5:30 and 6, we set off in form true to the name of the peak we were after. The skin up the Napeequa river was pleasant and uneventful. Very similar to Gold Creek. We found a crossing to Twin Lakes creek with little trouble, and afterwards had smooth sailing with ever increasingly beautiful views. Anybody recognize this peak in the background? After a little over three hours we figured we were where we needed to be. The problem was that because the Black Hole Couloir is so embedded into the cliffs that surround it, and because of its W/NW aspect, there’s no way to see it until you’re actually in it. Phil consulted his map “We need to go up here” Thankfully he nailed it, because even though it was only 9, we wound up needing all the time we could get. See, it's right above us: As we started up the lower apron I began to notice that the snow was dreamy. At only 3000’, it still felt light and fluffy. “Could be a good day Phil”. With Phil in the lead we quickly gained 600 or so feet. The sun was out, although blocked by the surrounding peaks. The Walrus, Richardson, and Pilz glaciers (I think) began to show themselves from across the valley. The area was stunning. “I could go to sleep here” Phil said. We still couldn’t see anything that resembled Scurlock’s photo, but skinned on. We started to feel the icy remains of avy debris, and came across a few hard bluges, so we switched to crampons. Soon after we were back in powder. A few hundred feet more and we crested the lower apron, turned the corner, and stared in slack jawed awe. Before us snaked a bead of snow that stretched for as far the eye could see. Which in our case meant just under 3500'. Phil and I looked at each other. Phil remarked that he felt his motivation returning. I felt like I’d won something. The snow was feathery light, and ranged anywhere from shin deep to upper thigh. Wallowing was a word tossed around frequently. There were places where it was so deep that no matter how hard I tried I couldn’t move up. So we’d switch to skins for a few hundred feet. Phil was usually quicker at this than I, and would take the lead until I caught up. It was a good sytem. I don't have many pics from this section as I was rather busy. Somewhere along the way Phil began expressing concern for the snowpack. Lower down we’d noticed the crown of a small wind slab fracture off to the side. The snow was definitely wind affected in places. I like partners who talk about conditions. We dug a pit. I saw a very faint layer about 20 inches down. We did a shovel test. Inconclusive. Which to me is always a good thing. The only time a shovel test is conclusive is when it’s time to get the hell out. So I looked elsewhere for signs. I wasn’t seeing any lines propagate as I broke trail. The snow felt unconsolidated for the most part. When our boots touched bottom we were hitting a softish mix of what felt like avy debris, which meant there would be some cohesion. Basically, I liked what I felt. Phil had more reservation than I, but after we talked about it we decided to continue on. At about 5500' Phil began to question whether he had it in him to finish. The going was slow. I encouraged another 1000’. At 6600’, with a little less than a 1000’ to go, I pulled out two Starbucks dbl shots. My plan worked perfectly. Freshly juiced, Phil quickly jumped back into the lead. We switched leads again a little later, at which point Phil began to voice greater concern for the snowpack. I didn’t blame him. We were perched 3500’ up a continuously steep couloir, thigh deep in snow with occasional wind affected built up along the edges. It would have been worse had he said nothing. “Maybe I’m just being careless Phil, but it feels good to me.” I wasn’t lying. With every step I was watching what the snow did. And all it had been doing for the last 5 hours was absolutely nothing. “Just stay away from the slabby stuff,” he said. And so began the final five hundred or so feet of our climb. Me veering towards the edges where climbing was easier and Phil reminding me to stay in the middle where it felt safer. At some point I heard Phil say he was stopping. I looked down and realized that the slope had gotten significantly steeper. I looked up and I was so close to the top I could almost touch it. I felt incredibly at ease. The hard part was over. I slid my pack to the side and retrieved my ice axe. A dozen or so more steps and I found myself perched atop a dizzingly beautiful col. It was a little after 3. Clouds were moving in. I scampered over to the other side to take a peek and then quickly went about getting ready to ski. As I slid onto the slope a big smile crossed my face. It felt good to have my skis on. I wanted to veer a little to my left, where I would have some room to turn, but if anything went it would go directly towards Phil, waiting below. So I billy goated down the right hand fringe until I joined up with him. We decided to ski one at a time into safety zones, but because there really weren’t any we decided we’d ski it fast. Fine by me. My first few turns were cautious as I tested the stability. Then I cut loose. Including stops for pictures, I took us less than 15 minutes to descend what had taken over 6 hours to climb. At the bottom we ate what we had and rejoiced in what we’d just had the pleasure to experience. Then we huffed it back to the car, arriving 14 hours after we had left.

Trip: Whitehorse - North Face Date: 2/23/2008 Trip Report: There are days spent in the mountains, and then there are great days spent in the mountains. But rather than wax poetic I’ll just saturate the imagination with pic after pic of a perfect day…… Check out the avy debris:

Great pictures.

i read this when you first posted and it's stayed with me for the last few days. Very well said. Good luck with your new adventure.......

Details, details. I guess that would explain why early in the tour I started to head towards the car without realizing that I was going in the wrong direction. here are those close ups- too bad the super zoom came out blurry. Still looks massive. [/img]

Trip: Alaska Mountain - Southeast Face Date: 1/20/2008 Trip Report: After I got my first glimpse of the gold up Gold Creek last weekend I decided I had to head back. A few pictures, some sandbagged time predictions, and a promising forecast lured my buddy Mark Simon to the 65th street carpark for an early morning rendezvous, along with my brother and sister-in-law who'd come up from Portland for the weekend. Here's the motivating glimpse of Alaska I had last weekend. We skied from the high point, straight down to the skier's right of the main gully that splits the face: The beat down from the week before was a distant memory as the four of us skinned away from the car a little after 6 on Sunday morning. The snow down in the valley was incredible. Super light, mid shin deep powder at 2800’. In Washington. Mind boggling. Erica with early smiles: Mark making a highway: Our excitement clouded the reality of breaking trail for 7 hours. For such a little mountain, Alaska sure felt big. Our only moment of hesitation came above Alaska lake when we used our axes to climb through steep trees, deep powder, and occasional ice (except Mark, who cowboyed up old school style carrying a ski in each hand.) Mike and Erica on the summit ridge: The ski down was very good, but a little less perfect than we’d imagined. The top 500 feet was silky smooth on top of hard pack. Fast and fun. The next 1000’ brought powder, and the occasional face shot, but the residue of last week’s massive avalanches made itself felt every now and again. The final 500’ was butter. (I might be wrong about the vertical- I never really checked) We pitched out the top 800 feet, since we were releasing surface slabs quite frequently, but we skied the final (approx) 1200’ one at a time, top to bottom. Good fun.

great pics man.

Trip: Dragontail-Colchuck col Date: 11/17/2007 Trip Report: Here's some info, as of saturday, that people might find useful: -The chiwawa river road is closed 14 miles from trinity -The road to stuart lake is open to the trail head. -The trail to colchuck lake has light snow coverage. -Skiable snow begins around 6000' On saturday I went to ski Dumbell with my brother Mike and a friend Kevin. When we found the chiwawa river road gated we settled for colchuck lake. Probably a good thing as the weather was pretty bad for most of the day. Mike chose to call it a day at the lake, while Kevin and I huffed it up to the Dragontail-Colchuck Col. There is serious post-holing up thru the talus on the south side of the lake. (the trail to A.P. is still pretty barren.) I switched to skins around 6300'. It was snowing pretty steadily with little wind below 7500'. Above that it began to blow harshly. From the col I ski cut a slab with a 4" crown that carried quite a bit of snow several hundred feet down. it was obvious that the slab was a result of the windloading that had been taking place. The ski down was enjoyable shin deep powder to about 6000'. Then a hike out in the snow/rain had us back at the car by nightfall. Here are some pics: North Buttress Couloir: At the col, above the slab that I cut:

I'll be heading up for sure and have room for one, maybe two, more.

ditto. One of my favorites.

Sounds like a grand adventure. great pictures, especially the elk.

Trip: Mt Matier - NW Face- ski descent Date: 9/8/2007 Trip Report: Sometimes you're lucky enough to meet people who inspire thanks to their boundless passion and superior skills. I was lucky enough to share an adventure with four such people this past weekend. Sky, Jason and Josh Hummel, Dan Helmstadter and I all headed up to Mt Matier this past Saturday to ski its northwest face. Evertyhing about the trip went smoothly. On Friday I met up with Sky and the Hummels for pizza in Seattle before heading to Bellingham and Dan. From there we crossed the border without trouble and wove our way around Vancouver, thru Whistler and Pemberton, to the trailhead at Cerise Creek. It was late, and we were tired, so three of us threw our pads and bags on the ground while the other two stretched out in the truck. The air was cold and the sky was clear. Stars were everywhere. By morning my bag and pack were encrusted with a light dusting of frost. Fall was here, and the sweet smell of skiable snow hung about us as we prepared to leave. The view of Matier shining in the sun quickly warmed my bones. We set out about 8:30. The hike to Anniversary glacier was on nice, well marked trails. We made quick time and soon found ourselves at the lake beneath the glacier. The scenery was stunning. Sky and Dan set the pace up and thru the glacier to the Matier-Joffre col, where we got our first view of the Northwest face. As usual, I swallowed hard at what lay before us. Soon, though, the sheer beauty of the face lured me in and before I knew it I was crossing the Bergschrund behind Sky and Dan with ice axe in hand. One of the beautiful things about ski mountaineering is the way it combines soloing with partnership. Dan summed it perfectly on Turns-All-Year when he said that we each made our way up the face in our various styles. For Dan and Jason that meant a straight on bull-rush up the gut. For Sky it meant traversing a bit to find conditions he liked, and then heading straight up from there. Josh wasn't feeling it so he decided to wait it out from below. For me it meant traversing to the far climber's left so that I could use the rock band that bordered the face for rest when I needed it. I didn't feel strong enough to commit to 1800vft of nieve. I did my best to practice French technique, given that I'd brought only one tool. As I told Sky later, for the first third of the face I was wishing for a second tool while knowing that I only needed one. It was a good experience. By the time I encountered the 15 ft section of black ice at the top I was feeling confident with my technique and was enjoying myself. From the top of the face there was a short scramble to the summit. The sun was out, by now hitting the face with full force, and we all lounged about enjoying the moment. Several hours later we decided the time was right. The descent was perfect. The entire face had softened to cream of wheat. Sky, Dan, and Jason took the natural and beautiful line down the center, linking 1800vft of turns without stopping. I, on the other hand, decided to descend the way I came up and had to traverse an ice field that blocked the face half way down. When asked later "what the f**ck I was thinking" all I could say was "not much". Lesson learned. We survival skied the anniversary glacier, now in the shade, with the exception of one last patch of sun softened goodness just before our shoe stash. From there it was a short hike down to our car, where we arrived about 10 hours after we had set out. Thanks Hummels, Sky, and Dan- it was a great trip and I couldn't have had a better time. For Dan's write-up, go here: http://www.turns-all-year.com/skiing_snowboarding/trip_reports/index.php?topic=7757.0 For Jason's, here: http://cascadecrusades.org/SkiMountaineering/canada/Matierpeak/matierpeaknwface2007/matiernwface2007.htm

cool trip, and great pictures. thanks for sharing

I've heard about climbing on VAncouver Islan, but have never taken the time to research it. Wow! Looks like i've been missing out- nice pictures.

Sweet. Great write-up. thanks

Thanks for the humor- an out-loud solo chuckle earns as many points in my book as gnarly ascents and beautiful pics.

That's an inspiring trip Sky. Everything about it, including your write-up, screams motivation. Thanks for showing us how it's done.

Trip: Dakobed Range - Solo Ski Traverse around Tenpeak Date: 5/12/2007 Trip Report: Last week I spent 6 days, alone, working my around Tenpeak and skiing what I found along the way. I kept a journal. Here are some excerpts, some memories, and some photos: Day 1: I had a scare today when I came upon a bear. It was about 6:30 pm when I first saw him. I was down wind and saw him before he saw me. I was pretty freaked- wasn't expecting to encounter one so close. I took a few moments to gather myself before I alerted him to my presence. When he stood and looked me in the eye my heart about stopped. I tried not to stare, despite his beauty. Not surprisingly he couldn't care less about me and no sooner had he sized me up than he walked uphill and slowly made his way around to behind me. I quickly went on in the direction I was heading. Now it's 9:45 pm. I'm sitting in my mega-light, the first night of my trip, and I'm pooped. Seeing the bear made me feel vulnerable. Now it's raining. My doubts and fear are on the verge of taking over my thoughts. I feel them just behind my attention to what I'm doing. I imagined that the first night would be the hardest. I hope the weather is good tomorrow. I didn't make it far today. 2 difficult stream crossings saw me straddling fallen trees, cowboy style, as I ferried first my pack then my skis across raging water underneath. I don't feel like writing. I'm tired, and a little too close to being scared. I don't want any problems with bears tonight.... Day 2 Hard to motivate this morning. It rained much of the night and into early morning. I awoke around 5:45. There were sounds of rain, but I didn't have the heart to look. I was cold and tired. I propped myself up to heat a liter of water. When it got hot, I poured it into my nalogene bottle and brought it into my bag with me. I fell asleep almost instantly and slept until 9. For the next half hour I fought my negativity. My clothes were wet. My skins were were soaked, as were my boots and socks. I didn't know exactly where I was within the valley. The storm had disrupted my altimeter the day before. I'd walked for 9 hours, but had only climbed 200 feet according to my watch. Not surprisingly, there had been more streams than what the map had shown. I was packed and moving by 11. I decided to get out of the valley so that I could get my bearings. I also needed somed visual reminders/motivation for why I was here in the first place. As I got higher, the weather got better and my spirits began to lift. I realized I was in Thunder Basin. I wanted to be in Lightning Creek Basin. I decided to make camp along the ridge between the two, with the hope of finding a way to cross over sometime tomorrow. Day 3 Got up around 9:30 and was moving by 10:30. I climbed the ridge separating Thunder and Lightning creeks. When I realized I couldn't descend into Lightning Creek I changed my intinerary. I'd drop down onto the east side of the ridge, then climb to the high point- marked 7652' on the map. Ski down to 6500', then climb back up to the col east of Tenpeak. I remebered from a Scurlock Photo that there was pretty good looking line heading off the north side of the Col. But when I got to it I almost cried. It was much steeper than I had anticipated. The convex roll at the top of the 2000+' drop did nothing to ease my mind. I dropped my pack and spent a half hour with my crampons and ice axe trying to find the best entry point into the couloir. When I was able to visulize myself making turns I shouldered my pack and headed down. I made camp at the bottom. I climbed 3600' feet today and descended 4400'. I'm tired, but I feel good about the way things turned out. Day 4 I backed off something today that I had stated as a goal of the trip: the north couloir of Tenpeak. Andreas Schmidt skied it in 1993, and Scurlock has some wonderful photos of it. But on the way to its base, the snow was too hard for my liking. I was gripped, so I pulled my skins and skied down. Now, as I sit beneath it, sun shines beautifully overhead. It probably would have been perfect. I feel as though I failed in some way. I faced a moment of definition, and I defined myself in retreat. But my head wasn't in it. I was too psychologically spent from yesterday and the day before. A part of me checked out when I finished my descent yesterday from the col. I had felt a huge release to finally be on the north side. Up until then I'd had serious doubts about whether I'd be able to complete a traverse of anything interestring. It's immature to think in terms of failure. I just made a mistake. I thought skiing the couloir would be too risky. My mistake was in not realizing that it would get direct exposure during the middle third of the day. I had actually timed it perfectly. Oh well- i don't know why, but it's easier to live with a mistake than a failure.... I have a lot of respect for Andreas. I spent the rest of the day making my way up Honeycomb Glacier, and enjoying the views of Glacier Peak. Day 4 is coming to a close. I sit underneath a flapping mega-light, hoping it doesn't blow down during the night. A storm looks like it's coming in. I've decided not to attempt Glacier Peak. Day 5 Looking out of my tent this morning, I find it hard to resist Glacier Peak's beauty. But I have to be back in Seattle early tomorrow evening so I know that it'll have to wait until another time. I still have 4000+' of valley to descend before I can find the trail home. Instead, I'll get the joy of the peak just off to my right.Map says it's at just over 8100'. Looks like it could be fun..... It's 7:45 pm. Since this morning I've been looking forward to seeing the trailhead. I pushed up to 8100', had a great ski down, then battled my way to the valley bottom for 5 hours. I was determined to make it to my car this evening. But just after 6 I came upon a stretch of trail that overlooked the White River. I paused, looked around at the peaks surrounding me, felt sunlight wash over me, and noticed a piece of dry, grassy earth just to the side. The thought of sleeping on THAT apepaled way more to me than several post-midnight hours in a bed. So I made camp for one last time. Now it's 10:00. I've been standing here, outside my tent for almost two hours. I've seen deer, a robin, mountains change from golden to rose to brilliant white against a black sky. I've moved occasionally, but I've been so captivated by the beauty of this place that I've had no inclincation other than to stand here looking. I feel like I've come down from some other world. And yet I still feel enveloped in wilderness. The combination of those two sentiments enriches something deep in my soul. I feel like a better person for being where I am right now. Thank you Dakobed Range, for a wonderful week.

Nice read- thanks for sharing.

My brother and I were wondering about your accent- thought it was French canadian! Guess we were a bit off. Nice to meet you all, and thanks again for the photo.

Soudns like a great trip Sky. Looks like I chose poorly. Ended up with an horrendous approach to unpleasant snow on Canon mtn couloir. Talk about big efforts with disproportionate rewards! Live and learn I guess. Anyway, I'm glad you guys had a good time...

wow. beautiful.

Thanks- is it worth asking how you did it?

Does anybody know how to fix this post so "Sherpa Peak" appears in the location field rather than a blank with pictures icon?

Sherpa Peak ski activity Date: 2/3/2007 Trip Report:Sherpa Peak This is a bit overdue but....... Ever since I attempted to climb Sherpa's north ridge several years ago, I've had reoccurring dreams of a winter return with skis on my feet. It's a beautiful side of a beautiful mountain in a beautiful region. So a few weeks ago, towards the beginning of that wonderful high pressure system we had, I got in touch with my friend Mark and took all of three seconds to persuade him to join me. We made plans to go the last week in January but we each got sick during the week and decided that we wanted to make the trip in full form. So we pushed it back to the following (last) weekend, Feb 3. All of which is to say that I was pretty surprised when talking with Mark on the drive to Leavenworth Friday evening, he told me that his friend Matt had emailed him the day before asking if he wanted to join himself and Shane for a day trip into Sherpa to ski "some chute." So much for the remoteness I was hoping for. With a forecast for afternoon rains we set the alarm at Mark's Leavenworth home for 4 am. Valley fog gave way to crisp starlight halfway up the road to the Stuart Lake Trail. Few images invigorate more than darkened peaks set against blue/black sky. And few experiences are more terrifying than hitting 35 to 40 mph on the back of a snowmobile. Gripped and awake, I took the lead as we set off up the trail at 6. Travel was fast. The cold air had maintained a hard snow pack without allowing a refreeze cycle to slick the trail. We liked the track set by Matt and Shane, so we followed it all the way to Sherpa: The weather was wintery, and as we entered the upper basin wind, clouds, and the forecast for afternoon rain gave reason to take a breather and assess our plans. We brewed up some coffee and ate a bit behind a wind break. It was a little before noon and we each felt strong. The conditions looked stable, but suspect. We could see the ice glistening on the slopes leading up to Sherpa, and there were no discernable tracks before us. Having talked with Matt the night before, we knew that Sherpa had seen a lot of sun the day before and had softened her cover by late afternoon. We knew we weren't going to receive such treatment and began to look for enjoyable terrain. I had remembered there being three distinct lines that looked promising. Shane and Matt had skied one of them, the NE Couloir (in blue below). The second wasn't fully formed due to a rock constriction half way up. And the third, we judged, wouldn't be much fun since it had received too much sun the day before and looked to be quite steep. That left us with two choices. We could either ski the NE Couloir, or else head up a couloir looking thing to the climber's left that appeared to dogleg out of sight higher up. I wanted some adventure, so did Mark, so we headed to the left (in red). Here's a better picture from the cc gallery taken by Kurt Hicks in similar conditions: About 500 ft up, I switched to crampons and ice axes. Mark wanted to test his new Voile ski crampons, so he continued skinning (stubbornly!) to 7000'. I was getting about a half foot's purchase with each step, with occasional break-throughs up to mid shin. Each time I broke through I paused to scoop the snow out of my boots and laughed at myself for having forgotten my ski pants. I seem to always forget something...just never my pants. To our excitement, the couloir doglegged to the right around 7200', and appeared to continue unobstructed to the ridge above. We kept going, alternating leads, and hit the ridge at about 8000'. To our excitement yet again, there was more climbable/skiable terrain up and to our right that we couldn't see from below. 250' later we topped out at 1:45 pm. Looking down from our high point: Weather had begun to move in, enough so to cause concern. Wind picked up, clouds gathered, and humidity elevated. We enjoyed the views and ate. I didn't want to ski our line in a white-out. Visibility was already poor. Mark had brought clear goggles and was having a hard time distinguishing snow textures. Which was unfortunate because the snow had become quite hard in places for the last 500 feet, and the slope had steepened to 50 degrees in places. This wouldn't be a time for shredding. Mark went first, The surface was several inches of chalky alpine intermixed with sections of textureless (I won't say ice) crust. I followed, making cautious turns aimed at connecting patches of softer snow. Once into the couloir proper, the snow gradually became consistent. Several hundred feet in, I lept-frog into the lead and had my first taste of unobstructed exposure. Wonderful. I began to link turns and soon, as my thighs began to burn, I stopped to look back and realized I'd descended over 1000'. That's the kind of skiing I love most- continuous. Once we made it down to the basin beneath Sherpa a light rain began that came and went sporadically for the rest of the day. The ski down was uneventful, if not long. Creek crossings were well covered, and the warming temperatures had softened the trail up enough to allow for relatively easy management. The best part came on the road back to the car. Not being in the mood to spoon again on Mark's snowmobile, I opted to ski down. After the bridge crossing I had 2 miles of perfectly groomed wonderfully graded road to work out the lactic acid that had built up since day break. Hitting the curves of the road on edge felt like I was running gates... I made it the car with daylight to spare, I think a little after 5.