Category Archives: Skiing

Lolo Pass Backcountry Skiing

Note, for the regular readers, this is a more technical post for conditions at Lolo pass. Sorry to spam your inboxes, at least there are pretty photos and y’all know I’m being safe.

Making the best of a grey day. Looking at Montana from the Idaho border.

I skinned out of the Lolo pass recreation area to the peak just southeast of the parking lot- I was solo, so conservative skiing and careful avalanche investigation were the themes of the day. I dug two avalanche pits, one on the south aspect, one on the north aspect. Videos from my tests are below. It’s been a long time since I dug a pit and may have forgotten some of the process, but there’s only one way to remind yourself. In each case I picked a location that I thought was indicative of avalanche terrain, but in which I had immediate access to anchors and with minimal snow above me (essentially just below the rollover) in the event of a slide.

It seems like the snowpack is definitely more consolidated from the high avy danger earlier this week, but there are some prominent layers, wind affected snow, and wind affected loading. I skied the north facing aspect on mostly +/-20 degree terrain back to the cross country trail, and felt no instability (granted, there wasn’t a whole lot of snow either!). If you have feedback on how I can make my pit tests more useful, please post to comments. This is about being safe and having fun.

The South aspect pit was dug in 100-108cm of snow, down to the dirt. Slope angle was approx. 29 degrees, and the aspect was 160 degrees SSE. Here’s the video.

The North asepct pit was dug in 130cm of snow, but not quite down to the dirt. Slope angle was 33deg, and the aspect was 350deg N.
Video #1
Video #2

(at time of publishing the videos weren’t quite done uploading, so give it a minute…)

Courtesy of the Forest Service, a little below average, but good for checking your expectations.

Going Local

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It’s the title of the book currently sitting next to my bed, and a pretty good description of my weekend. I haven’t been out for climbing or skiing adventure in almost a month, but as “going local” has been the theme of many things about my move to Missoula, this weekend was about going local for some of my favorite activities.

Love your local goods. The Graineater (WI4, 200') at Finley Creek.

New fact: I live 24.6 miles by car (or bike), and 75 minutes of walking from a 200′ WI4, now in conditions for ice climbing. WOOT. Finley Creek should be an excellent training ground for the season. Even after the fact that last weekend ended in an enormous pool of turkey blood, Hannah was game to play with more sharp implements and try ice climbing for the first time. We did not climb the aforementioned route, but I did enjoy sharing some basic knowledge of ice climbing with an enthusiastic friend, as well as get a little practice in myself and check out what I found were some fantastic local ice lines. We had a blast, and I look forward to heading back soon.

Studying the route before swinging the tools saves energy.

Hips in, arms straight, trust the feet- Hannah getting the moves together.

Sunday morning my housemate (and landlord) invited me out with a few folks to explore what early season backcountry skiing might look like.

The positive: we got up and out in the morning, the weather was perfect, and I connected with some new potential ski partners.

Gearing up for a long road slog. (Photo: Rachel Gooen)

The negative: there wasn’t actually enough snow to ski, but enough to get the truck stuck, and have to skin a really long way up the road. As a sign of the first ski day of the season, I have no clue where my pole baskets are- these are the problems that pop up after a major move (I packed them strategically, somewhere…). So I improvised:

$2.50 in duct tape and some cardboard at the gas station.

They make funny prints, but they do work! (Photo: Rachel Gooen)

It was at least a workout, and a good look at some backcountry terrain near St. Mary’s peak.

Lots of slogging. (Photo: Rachel Gooen)

Hopefully there will be more snow next time.

Cracks, part 2

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(from June 4, 2011)

Despite the fact that I’m trying not to think about it, the bruises on my elbows and knees won’t let me forget. I took my first real live cravasse fall today while out for a short ski patrol to check on glacial travel conditions. True to the nature of glaciers, the live situation did not mirror all the training we’ve done lately, and the situation was bad.

The slot (cravasse) I was in was running parallel to our direction of travel, only 20″ wide (just wider than my shoulders), and 12 feet below the surface- full of bottomless ice cold water. Due to the direction of the travel, the rope didn’t catch my fall and cut through the snow directly up towards my partner. I stopped falling when I hit the water and started floating, and despite my initial calm of falling in the hole, I knew I was in deep when I hit the water and took stock of the situation.

JP did his best to stop the fall, but the direction of the crack really meant neither JP or the rope were useful for self-rescue- I was floating until my team could get another rope to me. Ultimately the details are small, I got cold, another team was able to help us, I got out of the crack, someone from the other team went into another crack in the process, and our mini afternoon ski patrol turned into a mini epic. I got back to camp, got warm, and spent some time thinking that the Muldrow glacier is probably going to offer a very serious challenge indeed. Many thanks to Chris, JP, and the other team for their assistance in pulling me out of a really tight spot. The only true victim was my fancy new camera which took the swim with me and now makes for an expensive looking paper weight (and hence there are no photos for this post).

In retrospect, it was an incredibly valuable experience. I learned a lot, no one was seriously injured, and I walked away feeling more in control of the fears I have long carried about cravasse falls because I took the ride, didn’t die, and walked away. Training does not replace experience.

‘It Is Solved By Walking’

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My good friend David sent me this quote from his computer in Guatemala last week. You can read more about it here: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Solvitur_ambulando

“It seems like your climbing is pissing you off, Skander”
“You know, I think you’re right. I can count on two hands the number of days I’ve been leading trad on Granite, I’m not sure why I’m stuck on this idea I can lead 5.10 here.” If “the best climber in the world is the one having the most fun” (Alex Lowe), I haven’t been doing so well the past few days.

I had been complaining to Aaron about yesterday’s spectacle of me hanging on my gear, then slip-sliding off a variety of 5.10 routes I had sent on top rope last week. As is often the case of climbers well versed in face climbing, my days here in Yosemite have been humbling. The more I climb here, the more I realize how unprepared I was to climb the Salathe with my buddy Steve-O. Having a bum foot doesn’t help, and somewhere towards the end of my fight yesterday with “Lunatic Fringe” (5.10c), I tweaked a tendon in my shoulder quite badly. The pain still present this morning, and anytime I raise my arm above my shoulder socket, is a strong reminder that my roadtrip thus far has probably inflated my ego more than my muscles. Stewing in camp Monday night watching my friends pack some of my gear for a climb I wasn’t able to go on left me feeling punchy and I took it out on my kettlebell. I haven’t been keeping up on my gym training, and I was sore before I even started climbing on Tuesday morning. Dumb. Really dumb, because right when I needed it most (150′ off the deck), I was gassed in all the same muscle groups I had wrecked the night before. Backing off the Salathe was a good choice, and also made me face some questions about what I can do to properly ensure I don’t have to bail off my patrol on Denali next month.

At least its the most beautiful schoolhouse I've ever been to... (photo: Barry Smith)

Getting a full value education. (photo: Barry Smith)

I’m in Yosemite, possibly one of the most beautiful places in the world and I’ve been feeling pissy all morning because I know I shouldn’t be climbing. I need to take care of my feet rather than wedge them into rock shoes, and stop torquing a shoulder into cracks that have already torqued it enough (possibly because I’m over-compensating for my foot?). More importantly, as my brother asked me last week before I bailed on the Salathe- it again raises the question of what am I here to do?

I suspect, it may be solved by walking. I took this time off to do things that I won’t be able to do while holding a steady job. I’ll come back to Yosemite to climb routes, but when can I see the Yosemite high country in spring snow? When can I decide to change my Alaska plans and stay in the range for another 3 weeks (more on this later)? I’ve let my ego back me into a corner, and I’ve got to step back and simplify. I’m headed into the high country to slow down for a few days and consider my options- and prevent myself from climbing on a shoulder than needs to heal. It should also be a great time to check in on my skiing stamina and overall preparations for Alaska. I’m leaving from the Snow Creek Trailhead and plan to travel to Tuolomne Meadows, then back down to the valley via Yosemite Falls. I should be back Saturday afternoon. My plans are on file with the Yosemite Valley wilderness office under permit # 05713. I look forward to sharing some great photos when I get back!

Big gear for a big route.

Good luck boys! Wish I could join you.

Welcome home.

Just wanted to include this last shot of a coyote we met on the road as we returned from climbing on Tuesday night. So cool.

Also, in memory of one of the finest female alpine climbers out there, I needed to post this awesome tribute: http://www.thecleanestline.com/2011/04/desert-rembrance.html#more Rest in Peace Ms. Nott.

stickthefeeling

engineering, adventure, and balance