Sonora Pass, Mt. Rose, Shasta, Morrison Col, Eureka Peak, Jakes, Castle, Peavine and more.
I'm a little behind and sitting on a bunch of posts, and since there hasn't been one specifically worthy trip to write about lately, I figured in the spirit of catching up, I will just recap all at once. I certainly go through waves with writing, and as with everything, I try not to force it but instead let the natural ebbs and flows dictate my rhythm. Most recently, I've been more into reading than writing. Somewhere along the way, probably around the car accident, I shifted my focus from ultra-trail running to ski mountaineering/backcountry skiing. However, even though I had always been way into skiing, it was more resort based, and I had failed to learn the depths of ski history which I am now so eager to read about. Over the last few years, I read endless books dealing with the subject of backcountry skiing and mountaineering, and most recently I have gone crazy with reading any ski history book that I can get my hands on. Is this a good way to spend time or just a waste of time? Either way, I don't care, because I enjoy doing it.
The first trip worth mentioning was the conclusion of my 2020/2021 ski season. Last year was a very low-tide year in the Sierra, meaning, not much snow and an early (for the Sierra) end to a ski season. May 9th was the day, which is wild because the year before I made it well into June skiing in the Pacific Northwest and also locally in the Tahoe/Eastern Sierra regions. However, the Sierra has always been boom or bust in terms of snow, right in-line with the mining themes that have always brought people to these places in hopes of greener pastures. When you look at the month-month snow history over the years, it's not abnormal to see a month of 200 inches followed by nothing the following month. Just like last year, this year started off deep, then dry, then deep, now dry again, and we are all praying for spring snowfall that will get us into the summer and dampen the inevitable wildfires.
In this photo: Conor Phelan near Sonora Pass, California.
I finished the 2021 season by skiing with Conor off of Sonora Pass. This is a gorgeous region nestled between the "true" Eastern Sierra that rest south of the Pass, and the mellow terrain that proceeds north to Truckee, CA. The rock here is metamorphic and different from the slabs of granite that can be found over the majority of the range. Here, the mountains have a special feel to them, as if you can still feel the energy of the native Paiutes/Washoe that called this home. We chose this area because it was one of the last places on the snow map that was showing sufficient depth and it was one of the only areas providing a true freeze-thaw cycle.
The plan sounded great to me, I love the Sonora area, and I had never skied up that way so there wasn't a single reason to say no. I decided that I would head down the night before and camp out because I would much rather sit underneath the stars and get to bed early than sit in my living room all night waiting to wake up and drive a few hours. Not that Conor likes the later either, but for him, it made more sense to meet me in the morning. So, I had the night to myself, and I remember it being so peaceful, and such a nice ending to the season. I had a great spot, right off the side of the pass that was easily visible to Conor in the morning, but yet not directly in line with the headlights coming down the pass at night. It was breathtakingly quiet the night before, which for me, is an achievement these days to actually find some peace and quiet.
Sure enough, right at about 7:00am, as I am behind a tree doing my morning routine, Conor pulls up, sprite as ever, and we drive a bit further down the road to reach the start of our tour. Rather than talking all that much about the skiing, it was the pure nature that I can't neglect to talk about. Right from the start, we were greeted with the rushing force of water that is so typical of spring in the Sierra. The previous days (if not weeks) were scorching hot for this time of year and unfortunately that same sun had burnt out any and all snow bridges that crossed the stream. To make matters worse, the water was so high that it nearly topped all of the boulders that were once a worthy way to cross. Add to the fact that the temperature had dropped slightly below freezing overnight, leading to some slick rocks, this was a tough battle to fight with nature, and we still see our cars! However, there is no "fighting" with nature, nature will always win that battle. So instead, we gingerly tiptoed around finding the most logical way to cross, and finally found a series of steps that worked, but damn near ripped our pants as we stretched our legs as far as we could to make the crossing. Stressful or not, it was amazing to be in the middle of the stream with the water roaring by, and us, so singularly focused on our objective, that this little micro-adventure had me deeply in the moment.
As we exited the drainage, it was the birds that took hold, mountain chickadees to be exact, singing the "cheeseburger" song, and once again, forcing me to focus on the land, and not "the line." At this point, I was truly just happy to be there- to be stuck inside some sort of children's book. Of course, the skiing looked good all around us too, and the snow was softening up just as planned. This had all the elements of a great day and I was grateful to get this type of day to conclude my season.
In this photo: Conor Phelan skiing near Sonora Pass, California
We moved our way up the drainage towards Leavitt Peak, admiring the bizarre rock formations along the way, and then started towards Blue Canyon Lake where we ended up skiing a couple beautiful lines up from and back down to the lake. We did two or three and then climbed over the ridge, skied down some, then made our final ascent to the ridge that would lead us to our final descent down to the cars. This place continued to deliver the natural beauty (and great skiing), and as I walked slowly behind Conor up the final climb, I noticed heaps of geode like rocks/crystals and obsidian. Yep, for a rock-hound like me, this was one hell of a day. Great weather included, it was a reminder the skiing really does come second for me. What comes first is the landscape, the nature, the clouds, and beautiful vegetation, and what I am most grateful for, the time and the know-how to get to these places that few others do. Yet, even in a less elitist sense, I'm just grateful to be on this beautiful planet, to know that this stuff is even here, that nature is everywhere, and that the world isn't just busy freeways, tasks to be completed at work, bills, etc., but is instead beautiful and alive beyond our control. It helps me look at the world in a more positive light. We finished a ginger beer at the cars and continued on our separate ways. Though too early in the year, this was a great conclusion to a season.
In this photo: Conor Phelan standing atop one of the days better lines.
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Jumping ahead to the 2021/2022 season, winter kicked off pretty early with some huge early season storms in October that had us near the 100" mark in no time. I started my season with a quick Nordic skiing day with Rez out to the Peter Grub Hut, then a nice day or two in the Mount Rose area with Conor and Fred before the snow got so heavy that it became arduous to ski. It was October, we had just received 100 inches of snow, and it really needed to settle. Either way, it was awesome to start my season off with these two guys. Like me, they too had been in a horrible car accident, and it actually occurred the weekend after Conor and I skied Sonora. After a summer of watching Conor limp around in pain, and Fred who I knew less about but knew must've been struggling, it was great to be on-snow with them, and of course they both were leading the way up the mountain, leaving me sweating and exhausted behind them on skin track.
In this photo: Fred Mondale leads the way during an October day on Mount Rose.
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Thankfully, all the early season storms had hit Mount Shasta, and moving forward to mid-November, Mike Scott and I made a quick trip to Bunny Flat to attempt another go at skiing from the Summit of Shasta. Two years ago I went with Fred, Lisa, and Dave Mathes, and we had to turn around at Helen Lake due to high winds which caused some ice fall/rock fall. Mike and I took the Previa for one last trip before I got a new car, and we rolled into Mount Shasta on a Friday night around 11pm. We found a great spot to sleep in the van, and it was beautiful to be back doing what I love, sleeping in the trees underneath the stars knowing that tomorrow, I get to ski.
In this photo: My beloved Toyota Previa waking up to her last trip!
Everything went as planned and the weather appeared to be great. Little to no wind was forecasted and the temperatures indicated a nice freeze-thaw cycle, which is what we want on the world's largest corn run, Avalanche Gulch. We got started and made our way out of treeline quite fast. Being so early in the season, there were not all that many skiers or climbers either. However, something inside me said maybe this wasn't the day I summit. Mount Shasta isn't even that hard of a summit, yet, I had yet to reach its summit because of wind, and the night before when I picked Mike up, in classic form, he said/asked "oh, that's what we are doing," ..when I told him the climb would be some 7,000vft to the summit if all went well. Not exactly confidence inducing, but I knew he had it in his toolkit if the weather would just stay solid. Steep request for Mount Shasta! I once again made it to about Helen Lake, and as Mike joined me, we both soon agreed that we would have to change our plans and neglect the summit once again. However, I was totally content with this, perhaps it's me being a year older, or that it was early season, or more so, the rocks and ice flying down the bulletproof slope at 60mph, but whatever it was, I was content. I was just happy to be there, and that is the feeling/reminder that I always want more of. It's the big picture that makes me feel so small. It makes me feel grateful that I am just there, a small grain on the side of a huge mountain, summit or not, this was still going to be a great day.
In this photo: Mount Shasta’s “Trinity Chutes”
In this photo: Mike Scott embraces the beauty.
We decided to retreat down a bit and enjoy some corn that we had noticed a bit lower on the slope, and then try to climb one of the nice couloirs off of lower Casaval Ridge. The first descent was great, we took off on firm but quickly were skiing corn, and we took this line about 1,500vft down the gulch before transitioning to boot pack where we climbed a couloir up the south side of Casaval Ridge. At this point, the sun was very strong, and it was almost like another world than what we experienced just another 2,000 feet up the volcano. We were now on a south, not west, facing slope, and the solar aspect was significantly softer and wet snow slide conditions were rapidly rising (it's never good when you can hear water under the snow, yikes!). We booted the couloir as fast as we could, and near the top as it got steeper, it was clear that the early season zeal had got the best of me. We were indeed on a slope that we should not have been on at that time of day. In this condition, it's possible for a wet-slide to break all the way at the ground. While highly unlikely, it is not good practice, and I was no longer "happy to be here." I was thinking, get out of here! We transitioned right at the top, enjoyed some great turns, and made it down just fine. Once again, happy to be here, and hopefully a bit wiser now that I had the seasons first learning lesson under my belt. We skied southwest across the volcano and enjoyed some beautiful corn nearly all the way back to the car. Summit or not, this was one hell of a great day on Mount Shasta, and we still got about 5,500vft of skiing in! Plus, on the way home, we had the nicest ride and stopped along a beautiful river that looked back at Shasta. Another good one in the books, and another great trip with Mike Scott.
In this photo: Making the quick transition at the top of the chute.
In this photo: Mike Scott keeping it loose at the bottom of the line.
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Following a big break in snowfall, I spent most of December skiing resorts and practicing my telemark turns. October had been record snow, then November nothing, and then December once again record snow, which actually made it hard to go skiing/get into the mountains. Avalanche danger was high, so was traffic, and with few daylight hours available, I decided I would use this time to ski NorthStar after/before work since I work only a few miles away. However, by the time the tourists cleared out after the new year, parking lots cleared too, the snow had settled, the days got slightly longer, and the corn started being harvestable. For the last month/month and a half, it has legitimately been like skiing in April around here. While I would rather have the fresh snowfall, I am a total fair-weather skier, and it has been quite nice to knock off some local lines, and I even snuck in an Eastside line too.
In this photo: Nick Phillips stands on top of the Morrison Col.
The Eastside line was the Morrison N Couloir. This is a beautiful mountain that sits at the back of Convict Lake near Mammoth Lakes, California. The rock is so strikingly beautiful and enormous, yet it's all still low-hanging fruit in terms of ski access. I skied this line with my co-worker, Nick Phillips, who is a pilot from New Hampshire that now fly's for the company that operates our flights. We had been talking about skiing since we met each other, so I was happy that we both were able to carve out a little bit of time for this one. I ended up meeting him down near Bishop the night before since it was too cold to logically camp in Mammoth when it was 30 degrees warmer down the hill a bit. We both crashed in our cars and were up as planned the next day. The snow was firm as we toured out of Convict Lake and this made for some swift travel up towards Mono Jim Peak and then on top the notch that led to the N Col of Mount Morrison. By the time were ascending the notch, the snow was corning up nicely, which made the boot packing very easy. However, the line faced north, so we knew it would be firm, oh well, soak in the sun while you can. We gained the notch and sure as shit, the line looked great, was filled in nicely, and the snow was totally edge-able. Considering the conditions after the windstorm, this was a huge victory. I dropped first, then radioed Nick, calling an "all-good" to drop, and he made his way down as well. This was a great early season day with some astounding views and a little hard work. Even though I am not giving it a long post, it will resonate in my mind for a long, long time.
In this photo: The “Pinner Couloir,” seen during the egress.
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Other ski trips this year include, Eureka Peak in the Lost Sierra with Kurt and our dogs, The Y-Chute and Vikingsholm Chute on Jakes Peak near Emerald Bay, CA with Rez, Castle Peak South Face with Nicole, her boyfriend Cody, and our dogs, Greely and Rez, Incline Peak South Face laps with Rez, a day of SAR training out near Grouse Rock on the West Shore of Lake Tahoe, an awesome link-up loop from Relay to Rose Knob, to Incline Peak, and even some ski "ribboneering" on Peavine Peak in Reno! On top of this, last year it was tele, and this years new thing is getting into SkiMo racing, which if you ask me, is road cycling for skiers, i.e., ski/climb fast in spandex.
In this photo: Rez and Gibbs seeking some treats while we take a break on Eureka Peak.
In this photo: The Y-Chute and Vikingsholm Chute routes that I skied with Rez.
In this photo: A smiley face. “Sometimes you may get shown the light in the strangest of places if you look at it right!”
In this photo: Rez stands on one of the three main “ribbons” that we connected to ski from the summit down to street access off La Brisas.
In this photo: Ski the vine!
In this photo: Cody and Greely work their way up Castle Peak.
In this photo: Greely and Rez taking a break on top of Castle Peak.
All is good and I am taking a little break from skiing this week as a I let my legs recover. Maybe it is age, maybe it is not, but I definitely notice that I recover different now than I did at 25, but either way, no matter what the speed, I am just happy to here!