Away from the Alpine

June 15, 2014

Late Sunday night, before the work week, I quickly glanced at the weather for the weekend.  With full sun in the forecast, excitement for the endless possibilities on Montana ridgelines, left me optimistic as I headed to work on Monday morning.

Monday morning began as many have before, with chainsaws, crosscut saws, and axes clearing trail over gradually deepening snow.  A drizzle came in and out, and then stayed steady for the next three days.  The next day, high up on a ridgeline, the rain cooled into pounding snow.  An enduring memory from the summer will be watching Mikey, barely visible through the pounding snow, sawing out one of the largest Whitebark pines I have ever seen.

Cooking steaks while the snow flies.

Over those four days, five inches of rain fell in Northwest Montana.  With the freezing level near 7,000 feet for the duration of the storm, the high peaks received between 10-20 inches of snow.  Back in the valley late on Thursday night, rid of the wet clothes, the weekend realities set in.  From a hillside on the west side of Whitefish, binoculars revealed the vast amounts of new snow in the high country.  The warm weather combined to make the situation dangerous.  Disappointed by the wrong combination of conditions, I compromised with several ideas for trail runs the next day.

The next day started early, with the sky displaying one of the most strikingly blue days since the Livingston Range Tour in early May.  The car was not happy in the morning, and I soon realized that the park was out of range.  I left on a trail run and dragged from the beginning, making it only eight miles before having to walk the last three due to a tender calf muscle.

Tired legs on a disappointing trail run.

Thoughts:

Not every week yields spectacular summits and high alpine experiences.  That is what makes these opportunities memorable, enjoyable, and precious.  A ski descent is currently occupying my attention, and I hope that soon the conditions will align to allow me back into the alpine to attempt it.

Quiet Ridgeline

The mountain has stood in my memory since I have had one.  And this morning, crouched in the deep cedar forest of the valley floor in a creek, I was directly in its shadow.  The morning arrived clear and cool, a welcome respite during the walk to treeline.  Snowline came and my footsteps followed the hoof marks of snow-colored companions.  The ridgeline was in sight, with only smooth snow and rock ahead.  At the ridgecrest, the full expanse of the lake became visible.

The next hours were peaceful, and silent.  The ridgeline swiftly steepened to greater angles, but the climbing remained simple enough to remain comfortable for my far from ideal climbing technique.  Near the summit, class 5 climbing left little between the soles of my approach shoes and the azure blue of the alpine lakes 3800 feet below.  Several more rock columns came and went, and I arrived at the summit cairn.  The ancient summit box still sat proudly, high in the sky, with no place to write a name.  No matter.

On the other side of the peak, the steep rock faded and was returned to winter in snow slopes, dotted with rock bands.  Only one rock section tipped the scales into steep down climbing, which unfortunately also housed a waterfall.  I was pleased to be done with this section, and sliding into the basin.  At the terminus of the snow, I met a familiar friend.  She regaled an enjoyable mountain adventure, in many ways similar to my own.

From then on, the world left me alone to wonder at the dappled sunlight through the forest and the taste of food that only the mountains can provide.

Changing Seasons and Footwear

Spring started in Squamish, in the salty air.  It continued in earnest in Montana, with long spring days in the alpine on sunny summits. This post will cover time spent in the Teton range of Wyoming and subsequent outings back in Montana.

May 7, 2014 

I am somewhere in Idaho.  High, overcast clouds bring smooth definition to the rolling plains of potato country.  Potato silos were, in fact, the only structures in sight.  However, I knew that soon the Tetons, a near mythic mountain range for American ski mountaineers, would appear in moments.  I had not yet been to the Tetons, a cluster of granite rising far above the plains scattered with elk and bison.  I had been fortunate enough to receive a scholarship from the David and Peggy Sokol Foundation to attend the “Live To Ski” camp held in Jackson Hole by Exum Mountain Guides.

Steve Romeo, a ski mountaineer from Jackson, tragically died in an avalanche in March of 2012.  The next year, Exum created a ski mountaineering camp in his memory to educate the next generation of skiers.  Growing up, reading Steve Romeo’s trip reports and being inspired by his life and skiing made the opportunity to attend his memorial camp an absolute privilege.

Booting in the Teton deep.

Before dropping into the Sliver Couloir.

On the third day of camp, several campers, along with Zahan and Dan Starr, skied the Sliver, East Hourglass, and West Hourglass couloirs.  This was the third successful linking of these lines.  The first to link the three descents was Steve Romeo, so returning to complete his vision during the memorial camp was very special to all involved.  Each couloir was filled with deep, stable powder.  The West Hourglass was especially memorable, because the top was in a strong storm, dumping snow.  Nat Partridge (co-owner of Exum) said that it was the deepest he had ever skied the couloir, to the nods of other guides.

Happy to be in the East Hourglass Couloir. On the second rap. PC Dan Starr.

Middle.

AZ negotiating the upper section of the Red Sentinel Couloir. So deep!

My first trip to the Tetons is one I will not forget.  Spending time learning mountain skills and skiing deep powder above rappels will leave lasting Teton impressions.  I want to thank Exum and the Sokol Foundation for their support.

May 26, 2014

After the course, I returned to Montana to embrace the change of seasons.  My good friend LS from Fernie came down to ski, and we tried to find lines between the rocks in Glacier.  The weather did not cooperate, and our proposed route was not achieved, but it was more than satisfying to enjoy mountain time with LS.

LS happy for a belay on the ski boot/wet rock combo.

 

May 31, 2014

EP was training for a race in early June, so I tagged along for a run in the Park.  We started by climbing Stanton, then ran back to McDonald Creek and then up to Mt. Brown Lookout.  We debated continuing up to Mt. Brown’s summit, but neither of us felt the need to return to that summit.  It felt glorious to be in the mountains without foot vices (read ski boots), and to be able to move more quickly with less equipment.

Looking at Vaught- still too much snow for runners.

EP, always in motion. Stanton, trailhead to summit in 1:36, and return in 2:38.

From Mt. Brown lookout. The combined Stanton-Brown: 16 miles, 9000 of gain in five and a half hours moving time.

I am so grateful to be back in the Flathead valley for another summer, and cannot wait to explore more western ridgelines with many of you!