Skiing the Wild West. Granite Peak and Santa Rosa Peak. Paradise Valley, NV
This weekend I took a trip with Conor up to Northern Nevada to the remote Santa Rosa Mountains. Conor is on a mission to ski the 100 & something peaks of prominence in Nevada, something which has likely never been done. Safe to say, the guy straight up knows how to find good lines, and while I was reluctantly hesitating due to everyday circumstances, I knew that this would bring me joy and help bring me clarity. So at about 2pm on Friday, I texted him and said it was a lock.
I got to bed pretty early for the 4:15am wake-up, but it was cut short at about 2:45am and I never really got back to it after that. Luckily the stoke was running super high and I felt good for the drive. We watched an amazing Nevada sunrise as we drove east on I-80 towards Winnemucca. The Nevada desert/Great Basin really is such a beautiful place, you can see forever and ever, the purples and pinks pop in the sky against the brown landscape, and the mountains shoot up like fins right out of the otherwise flat basins.
The plan for Saturday was to get to Paradise Valley, NV and ski Granite Peak. Afterwards we would pick up Dave who had taken the train from Salt Lake City to Winnemucca and then hitched to the Chevron outside of Paradise Valley. This weekend was filled with story and I don’t know if I can even get to it all in this post.
Onto the skiing! We got to our destination at about 9am and started walking through the sage in our ski boots. While the entire drive was clear, by the time we started walking, the storm had settled in, it was snowing, the wind was howling, but from time to time the sun would shine so we were hopeful that it would pass quickly. The weather had stated 30% chance of snow with relatively high wind.
We hiked probably a mile or two then luckily we hit a snowpack that was deep enough to put our ski’s on to skin. From here it was all pretty straight forward with a brief low-elevation bootpack and a brief battle with a pesky cattle gate. The storm continued on and off, and I was bonking a bit, so it made for a tougher than expected day, and by the time we got to the bowl beneath the summit, I was cursing at my skins/skis which kept slipping out on the fresh inch of snow that rested on top of the 3” crust. Its all part of the adventure, some days are better than others, this one was still great, I knew I had it, but it would just take a little time. Finally, after a sluggish bootpack up the bowl to about 100 feet below the summit, I finally reached Conor and got to see the planned line.
We looked in and then continued up to the summit while there was a slight break in the storm. The clouds lifted a bit and the snow relaxed but the wind continued to rage. And while it was by no means the sketchiest thing ever, 40-50mph winds hitting you while you have ski’s attached to your backpack can move you around a little bit. On a perfect day with good rest, no problem, but on this day, it took some extra effort mentally and physically. After a quick crawl on all fours around the narrowest part, we reached the broader summit and took about 30 seconds to take in the moment. Conor can do a great impression of my face at the summit. Im sure I wore that face all the way back across the summit ridge as I was now down-climbing the same route in reverse with the same winds. I took it super slow due to the exhaustion I was feeling, and just tried to relax and take time to be 100% sure of every hand and foot placement. After getting off the summit, the winds dropped dramatically for a little and Conor led the ski descent into the main chute. It was a short but technical descent that required either down-climbing in ski boots, or strategically entering with your skis on. Conor decided to leave them on and it took some clever maneuvering before he got into the thing and was able to ski. After giving his approach a quick go, I was a little hesitant. It was a combination of my skill level for that day, and my slightly longer skis that made it hard for me to downstep through the narrow and rocky entrance with my skis on. I decided I would take mine off, climb down, then step back in after I got to a reasonable spot in the chute to do so. I down-climbed no problem, but once I was almost completely down, Conor said he needed to ski down because he couldnt really hold an edge, and then it hit me. How the hell was I going to get my skis on once I am in this thing? It would be a struggle, and with Conor out of sight, I had no idea how far I would have to keep down-climbing if I really wanted to ski the thing. We had also forgot my radios, which was a huge bummer in this moment because Conor would have been able to communicate how far down I would need to climb to click into my skis. With all this on the table, I decided I would climb back up, then slowly ski the more open face that we had climbed up to the summit. I didn’t love the idea, but considered it the best. I went through with it and eventually skied down and around the rocks that defined the chute and arrived about a 100 feet below Conor.
He was a bit surprised and I felt bad to have kept him wondering where I was but at the end of the day I think it was the right move and we continued on. It wasn’t exactly a quick skip back to the parking lot but the risk factor was low from here on out so it was nice to let the mellow set in and enjoy the trip back.
Once we got back, we headed down to the Chevron to grab Dave and then drove out down some dirt road to hang it up for the night. You have to love the amount of public land in the west. The plan for Sunday was to drive around the east side of the range and ski Santa Rosa Peak. We had eyes on it the day before and damn is it an aesthetic peak with lots of good ski opportunities. The plan was to take the west/sw ridge to just below the summit and then climb out onto the face for the final 150 feet or so. If we reached the summit, we would either ski the main w/sw gully or ski the south facing bowl, then ski out the drainage, making a loop back to our starting point.
In this photo: Dave Corr hitched from SLC to Paradise Valley in a day and met us at the Chevron to ski Santa Rosa the next day. Aka, Badass.
In this photo: Dave Corr and Conor Phelan on the initial approach.
In this photo: Santa Rosa Peak centered in the background along our approach.
The mileage wasn’t big but due to a low snow year in this area, we hiked for a few miles in ski boots before hitting snow, then bootpacked a bit, then finally I put on my crampons and pulled out my ice axe as the snow got firmer and the slopes steeper. Once we reached this point, we knew the summit would be a difficult task. Dave didn’t have crampons or an ice axe, Conor had crampons and a whippet, but no ice axe, so with varying gear, we agreed to move on to a point just below the summit where we could inspect the final route and if it wasn’t a go, could safely return the way we came and then ski a different line off the south side.
We werent exactly moving fast because of the snow and some fatigue, so by the time we got to the final pitch, it was already 2:30pm. No rush though really, we would just be exiting the final few miles of trail walking with headlamps on. A little ways back Conor had given his crampons to Dave, and as part of the deal, I traded my ice ace for his whippet to balance out out gear sets. With the exposure and complexity of terrain, we decided since I had the best gear for this particular climb, that I would go first and toe in some foot holds for Conor, and then Dave continue third. It truly was exciting to lead this final pitch to the summit. It was the first time I really took on that role and was happy to do it, and also felt confident. It was a sign of last seasons work and I’m grateful to have people like Conor and Hank to push my limits.
As I made the first few steps up, I planted my toes into the firm snow and tried to make extra room in the holds for Conor and Dave. It was incredibly exciting and so pleasant to be so acutely focused on every move. It was amplified by being out in front, then amplified again as the summit ridge came into sight. We took a slightly zig-zagging approach through the final few rocks rather than the clear, straight approach out on the face. We agreed that this route left more options for safety and self-arrest. Overall it was less exposed.
After a series of slow moves, I hit a section of firmer snow, which led nearly straight to the summit ridge and I toed in my crampons one after another as I simultaneously planted my whippet with my hands. I felt strong and was so focused on the task. Definitely a moment in my ski-mountaineer life that I will never forget.
Once I reached the summit ridge I let out a massive hoot and holler and let Conor know that the true summit was easily reachable. I moved on to the summit which was a short walk across the narrow ridge. I was very happy that todays conditions were clear and calm. If it were the day before, I’m not sure if we would have summited and if we had, it would’ve been very intense.
At the summit, I couldn’t hold in the excitement and let out a huge yell. I just cant help it and it makes me feel alive. Its been a tough few months and to achieve this on the day after a big day out, it just all felt so good. I felt as if I had taken a step forward.
I enjoyed the summit to myself for about ten minutes and FaceTimed my parents before Conor and Dave walked their way over. It was so rad to watch these two friends cruise the final ridge to the summit. Dave had made such a journey to get here and was feeling low on energy for most of the day, yet he just plugged one move after the other and focused. It was really awesome to have all reached the summit and I give Dave huge props for pulling it off on a tough day. Pretty savage move brother.
In this photo: David Corr on top of Santa Rosa Peak.
After a short stay on top of Santa Rosa Peak, we descended the south bowl. We had called off the main chute early in the day after watching the wind transport the previous days snow onto the slope. It just seemed too risky so we took the less rad and safer route down. The skiing was actually decent for the circumstances, and we skied about 4,000vft before we got down to the sage and booted our way out past the sunset and into the darkness.
In this photo: Fun turns on the lower part of the main descent.
The drainage that we exited seemed relentless. It was dark, rugged, and seemed never-ending. 5pm, 6pm, 7pm, when will I get out of this thing? Finally, at about 7:15pm, I hit the dirtroad and the within about two minutes of being out in the expansive basin, the full-moon rose, and kindly served as the light at the end of the tunnel.
In this photo: Me thinking, “what if I just stay here?"
Im once again grateful and stoke to be alive on this amazing planet. Still wondering if what it all means.
In this photo: Looking south from our ascent to Santa Rosa Peak.
Stay stoked!