The Skillet has always been a bit elusive to me because the traditional approach is difficult. Jackson Lake presents the main issue. Either you wait until late spring or early summer until Jackson Lake thaws so you can row a boat across. But, later in the season, freezes stop happening and the east facing line becomes more prone to wet slides. The other option is to go earlier in the season and skate-ski across the fully frozen lake. But, getting to the lake early in the season is a chore as the road into Teton National Park is closed all but a few miles from the southern boarder. So, approaching Jackson Lake early season requires a snowmobile (if there’s even snow) or a long bike ride. I’ve known people to do both, and both are hard.

Really, the best time to ski the Skillet is early to mid-May. But, Jackson Lake is not frozen enough to cross, and not thawed enough to row. But, as I mulled over the idea of the Skillet with our friend Hans, I learned something new. Hans had moved to Jackson from Colorado in 2014, but we knew him from skiing in Colorado. He told me that he thought Mt. Moran could be approached from the String Lake Trailhead via Leigh Lake Trail, and that the road to String Lake opened up on May 1st. He hadn’t known anyone who had done it. But, looking on a map, it seemed easy enough – a 5 mile, mostly flat, approach to the bottom of the route and then a 5700 vertical foot climb from there. This would be a long one, but I’ve done longer, harder, steeper routes with greater vertical before. Avoiding Jackson Lake seemed like the way to go.

The approach was one that seemed to favor camping on the approach, especially since the line is east facing and requires and early start. It seemed that making the 5 mile approach and camping near Jackson Lake was the best option. But we decided it would ultimately be easier to do it in a one-day push, keeping our gear light, and using less energy overall. We slept a few hours at the String Lake trailhead, set the alarm for midnight, and began skinning before 1 am.

We used a pre-planned route marked on Gaia to help us find our way on the Leigh Lake trail, which was difficult to see in the dark, eventually leaving the trail and b-lining toward Jackson Lake. My track also helped guide us up the correct drainage on Mt. Moran to approach the Skillet. We had a bit of difficulty navigating our way around a group of cliff bands and steep terrain near the base of the mountain in the dark. But once we got past that, it was smooth sailing. And the sunrise was beautiful.

The main gut of the route had quite a bit of avy debris which made us switch from skinning to booting.

What a beautiful place to be.

A group of 3 was in front of us, but decided to turn around about 1000 feet short of the summit. We kept passing pair from Salt Lake City back and forth until they took the lead at the end. Both parties had camped near Jackson Lake the night before.

And the climb kept going and going…. I mean, it is about 5700 vertical feet…

When we rounded the top of the Skillet, we still had a couple more hundred vertical feet to make our way to the true summit of Mt. Moran at 12,605′.

Me rounding my way to the top.

Transitioning with the Grand Teton taunting us from a distance.

Looking southeast.

The thing about standing on a summit is that you see at least a dozen other summits that you want, like this one – Thor Peak.

Larry, ready to go!

Time for the ski! We skied from the summit back to the Skillet, but had to take off our ski for a small downclimb through some rocks. And then the real skiing started. Larry dropping in to ski the Skillet.

Me.

Larry.

Me.

Larry.

Like the climb, the ski was long too. But the last 4000 feet were perfect corn. Me.

Larry.

As we neared the end of the route, we traversed over toward Bear Paw Lake and eventually finding our way through the forest back to Leigh Lake Trail. While beautiful, Leigh Lake trail is a bit of a flat slog out.

17.1 miles, 6200 vertical feet, and 14 hours after we left the car, we returned back to it. After emerging out of the pain cave, celebrations ensued, and we had dinner with Hans and his family. That night I went to bed, as tired as I could ever be, but smiling. The Skillet was a good one to check off the list.

The post Mt. Moran Skillet Ski – My Bucket List (5 May 2019) appeared first on 14erskiers.com.

Backcountry skiing and ski mountaineering has lots of levels. Beginner backcountry skiers typically start touring around in heavily traveled areas, typically on passes. Loveland Pass, Berthoud Pass, and Red Mountain Pass have probably been among your old stomping grounds if you started backcountry skiing in Colorado. First, you started following skin tracks and ski tracks on these heavily traveled areas. Then, you found some more novel skin tracks which you followed to see where they went, and found some fresh goodness along the way.

But your desire to explore continued to grow. So, you bought a guidebook and skied all the routes of interest in it. But then you wanted more. You wanted to go where there weren’t tracks to lead you to your destination. You wanted to go where no one you know has skied before.

Frank and I have been exploring new destinations in the backcountry for years, within Colorado, many of the US mountain states, and even Canada. However, while exploring routes to write up for our backcountry skiing guidebook, we found ourselves thrown into terrain that we are completely unfamiliar with more often than not. To accommodate this, we developed some navigational techniques which we continue to use, even past our guidebook research.

How do we do it? Well, there’s no doubt that our route planning has evolved as technology has evolved. Cell phones and the available apps associated with them have allowed for more more involved route planning than we’ve ever done before.

So, here it is. Here’s our methods and secrets to route planning for backcountry skiing in zones that we do not know!

Gaia GPS App

The Gaia GPS App is a game-changer. Now, you can have an app on your smart phone that works nearly 100 times better than any other GPS you’ve ever owned. Unless you want only the most basic features, a Gaia GPS App membership is $19.99 annually, or $60 for 5 years on Google Play and iTunes, but if you purchase through our affiliate link, you will pay only $16 for the first year or $48 for 5 years. It’s worth every penny and it transfers from device to device as it is linked with your Google or iTunes account – so if you get a new phone, you don’t need to purchase the app again until your subscription is up for renewal.

There are a lot of things that go into learning how to use the Gaia GPS App, and this isn’t a tutorial in how to use every feature on it… that would take months. But, I’ll give you a few of the basics and some ideas of how to best use this app for backcountry skiing.

Once you open the app, you’ll get a map. If the map doesn’t go to your location, then click on the circular icon with the four dashes around it at the top.

You can also search for places if you wish to review a place that is far from your current location. You can search using geographic names (ex. name of a mountain), names of nearby towns, or by latitude/longitude.

To begin recording your track, simply press the plus button with a circle around it, shown above. That will open a menu that will prompt you to begin recording.

The app is full of different base map choices. These are some that are available:

If you upgrade to the Gaia GPS Premium, you have additional layer capabilities (layers you can put on top of the base map) as well as a host of other features.

I am particularly fond of the slope shading layer, which tells you how steep a slope is – a huge asset when traveling in avalanche terrain. The slope shading layer is very similar to that used by CalTopo, further explained below. On Gaia GPS, the slope shading is available as a base map for the regular version, but this is difficult to use as it makes little sense without the topographic features. With Gaia GPS Premium, the slope shading can be added as an overlay on to the base map.

A Gaia GPS Premium membership is $39.99/year or $160 for 5 years – or if you purchase through our affiliate link it is $32 annually or $128 for 5 years. Most backcountry skiers will prefer this premium membership over the basic. More info can be found about the features included with each membership option in this article.

Can I use the Gaia GPS app in areas without internet or cell service?
The answer is yes. But it’s best to download the maps you need in advance, and using the search feature mentioned above is best for this. To download the map, click on the plus button with the circle around it located at the of the screen. This will open a menu where one of the options is to “Download Map”.

A box will appear on the screen which will allow you to select the area which you wish to download. It’s best to zoom out quite a bit so you get more area. Remember, you can always zoom in more when using the actual map. Once your region has been selected, press Save and follow the prompts. You can even give the map a specific name.

You can use your GPS app as it is, and plan as you go. But, it is often better to plan your general routes in advance. You can also plan your route using the Gaia GPS App, but I have found it slightly difficult to deal with – largely because I find it better to have a larger screen to allow for a better view for planning. My preference is to plan routes on CalTopo or Google Earth, and then import them to the Gaia GPS App.

Why is it better to Plan your Backcountry Skiing Routes in Advance?

There are probably dozens of reasons why it’s better to plan your routes in advance, but here’s a few things to get you thinking. First, using the slope shading layers can help you choose routes that minimize your exposure to avalanche terrain. Second, knowing your anticipated distance and elevation gain can help you have a better sense of the time needed for your tour – which is especially essential in spring when wet slides are a very real possibility. Third, it can make your travel more efficient as you will likely do less route finding along the way.

We also recommend having more than one plan in mind – back-up options for if your day or the snow conditions were not as you had hoped. Planning back-up options means you’ll be more likely to defer to them when needed, resulting in an overall safer backcountry experience.

Keep in mind that your route may not go exactly as planned. You may encounter denser trees than you expect, or cliff areas that do not show on the topo map, or rocky terrain. You will often have to do some navigation along the way, but creating a route in advance allows you to have a guideline to follow.

Planning Routes Using CalTopo

CalTopo is not an app. It is an online tool mapping tool that is best used on a desktop. Maps can be accessed on a mobile smart phone by using a simple web browser. But, you’ll find that many of the features are not accessible on mobile devices.

Gaia and CalTopo really work hand in hand. Just like Gaia has layer capabilities, so does CalTopo. Using CalTopo will help you use Gaia and vice versa.

To start, you’ll want to search for your desired location. Similar to Gaia, mountains are typically searchable. But, in the case that you are searching for a peak that is a very common name (aka, Green Mountain, Baldy Mountain, Crystal Peak, etc) or a mountain with an unofficial name, you may find it best to search for the closest town and then scroll north, south, east or west on the map accordingly to get to your place you wish to research.

When route planning you may want to look at some of the other layer capabilities. You can access these layers by hovering your mouse over the “MapBuilder Topo” in the upper right of your screen. When planning a route for backcountry skiing, I am a fan of the slope shading layer. Notice that the color corresponds to a range of slope angles – a very useful tool when you are planning for travel in avalanche terrain.

Many other map layers can be viewed as well and you may find them useful from time to time. Access these by clicking on “Stack New Layer” under “Additional Map Layers”. If you do not see the layer possibilities, try clicking on the empty field box with the down arrow shown in the photo. You can even choose a percentage for the opacity of the layers.

One of the simplest ways to plan your route is to simply start drawing a track as described in this image.

A pop up box will appear asking you to name your track. Name it if desired, and then choose your line style. If you do not choose, it will use a default. Click “Okay” to begin drawing your track.

Use the mouse to draw your track, clicking on various points to break up the segment.

Once you have your track drawn, you can view essential information like distance and elevation gain by clicking on the Graph Icon next to the name of your route.

There are many features to CalTopo that I have not described – some are intuitive, others are not. If you have questions, you’ll find help documentation if you hover your mouse over the words “CalTopo” in the upper left of your screen.

Last, you’ll want to export your track for use in Gaia. It’s usually best to save it as a GPX file.

Planning Routes Using Google Earth

Sometimes you may find it easier to plan routes using Google Earth. Certain features, like couloirs, are often easier to discern on Google Earth rather than a topo program like CalTopo or Gaia GPS.

Additionally, you can adjust the season in Google Earth (using the historical imagery icon and toggle) to better foresee how snow will be impacting your desired location.

To create a track on Google Earth, use the Add Path tool. Similar to CalTopo, you’ll have the option to name it and change the color. Use the mouse to move and click to draw your route.

Also similar to CalTopo, you can view an elevation profile with distance. Simply right click on the name of your route on the left side of the screen (not shown in photo), and then choose “Show Elevation Profile”.

Once you are done creating your route, you will need to save it to your computer. To do this, click “File” in the upper right of the screen, and then select “Save Place As”. Save the track as either a GPX or KML file as Gaia GPS and CalTopo accept either one (CalTopo also accepts KMZ).

You may wish to import your file to CalTopo for further review or additions. For example, you may find it nicer to use Google Earth to mark a couloir, but better to use CalTopo to plan the approach.

Importing Routes to Gaia GPS

After you download your tracks to your computer, you will need to import them into Gaia GPS. The app will read either GPX or KML files. First, you need to figure out a way to transfer the files from your computer to your phone. You can use email, Bluetooth, cloud storage like Dropbox or Google Drive, plug your phone into your computer, or many other different methods. I prefer email for this purpose as it is very easy to transfer files.

Save your GPX or KML file to your phone, and pay attention to it’s location. Then, open the Gaia GPS App, press the icon with the plus sign surrounded by a circle located at the top of the screen, then select import file.

Clicking on “Import File” will lead you to a file manager which will allow you to search for the location of your track. If you save your downloaded files in the same place every time, it will open to this file folder upon default. Once you import the track, you should see it on the map. If you don’t, make sure the location of your map is the same location as the track – so you may need to adjust the location by using the search box mentioned above. Alternatively, you can click on the “Saved” icon at the bottom of the main screen. This will list all your tracks. Make sure the “eye icon” to the right of the name of your file does not have a diagonal line through it. If it does, click on the “eye icon” to remove the diagonal line, and the track should then appear on your map.

A Word to the Wise

Learning new technology takes practice and patience. Every program, every app, every electronic device has its quirks. Don’t plan your first route for a 14 hour day and think that all will go smoothly. Practice on shorter routes and maybe in places where you are more familiar with the terrain. Learn how to read the maps and use them as tools in your planning. Build up to longer days and more challenging terrain as your planning skills grow. Last, remember that you are working with a mobile device – in the cold. Know how your battery reacts to these situations and bring backup batteries or charging options if you think you will need them!

Have fun exploring more!

The post How to use CalTopo & the Gaia GPS App to Plan your Backcountry Skiing Routes – Updated appeared first on 14erskiers.com.

As many of you know, last Saturday I completed the TrailQuest challenge, becoming the first person to ride over 750 miles of trails in the area surrounding Crested Butte, Gunnison, Paonia, and Crawford. It’s been a journey that’s taken me to some great destinations. But, as the saying goes, it’s about the journey, not the destination. And this journey has given me a reason to go places I would not have otherwise gone and motivated me to push beyond my comfort zone – often riding hard trails solo.

In my two-season TrailQuest journey, I wrecked 3 pairs of gloves, replaced 2 drive trains on my bike, replaced 7 tires, broke 2 helmets, tore up multiple pairs of shorts, ruined a few pairs of socks, wore out the soles of two pairs of shoes, spent roughly $2000 in parts and maintenance on my bike, endured too many saddle sores, broke my tailbone, and broke my little toe. I suffered on multiple long rides, occasionally breaking down to tears. But I also experienced so much joy in the beauty of the lands that surround us and in finding new trails that were new to me that made great rides.

I came out of this project with at least 20 new scars on my legs, a toe that is still broken, and the insight that goals motivate me do things that I would not otherwise do. My experience also left me with a wealth of knowledge about trails and landscapes in our local extended area as well as at least an additional half-dozen rides that will be on my annual to do list, followed up with some other rides that I would still love to do again.

We grow from the things that challenge us the most. Just like skiing the Colorado fourteeners push me to new limits with my skiing and ski mountaineering, Trail Quest pushed me to new limits with my mountain biking. Both goals have changed me forever. And I’ve come out a wiser, stronger person because of them.

Finishing a long term goal is ways weird for me. In some ways, I’m elated. I just completed a project that wanted to beat me up and spit me out I to a hundred pieces. But at the same time, I feel this emptiness – because I don’t have a goal I am striving to achieve, taking all my free time. It’s almost like I feel lost without something to look toward.

But times like this can allow for creativity. I will be consumed by another goal soon, it’s just a matter of what. And for now, I’ll be enjoying the space in between, eagerly waiting for the next challenge. Either way, I can’t wait to find out where the next goal takes me

Thank you!

I owe a huge thanks to so many people! I could not have completed this project without my two best TrailQuest biking partners – my husband Frank and my friend Heather Crossen. I also thank the GCBTA for developing this TrailQuest Challenge in the first place, including but not limited to Jon Norton, Laurel Runcie, and Daniel UpChurch-Kreykes. I also would like to give a big shout out to Derrick Nehrenberg for being the master mind behind the app development and for dealing with my constant pestering of “I’m not sure there’s enough miles”. And I’d like to thank Jon Norton a second time for being the inspiration behind TrailQuest, for writing about me weekly, for crowning me Queen, and for naming me The Formidable. Last, thanks to all my supporters who followed my fabulous journey along the way. I’ve met some incredible people because of this project!

The post First Finisher of TrailQuest! appeared first on 14erskiers.com.

But, then became a ski mountaineer and my eyes gazed back to Mount Rainier. I needed to ski her. Two previous volcano-skiing trips to the Pacific Northwest were fruitful, but did not give ample opportunity for skiing Rainier. After missing last ski season due to injury, and coming back to a rather mediocre season in Colorado, I needed something. I needed a big goal, something that would be the highlight of my season. I decided that would be Rainier.

The Fuhrer Finger is one of the routes featured in Fifty Classic Ski Descents of North America, by Davenport, Newhard, and Burrows. But, it’s been on my list for much longer than this book has been around. Although the first ascent of Fuhrer Finger was o July 2, 1920 by Hans Fuhrer, Joseph Hazard, Heinie Fuhrer, Peyton Farrer, the first ski descent did not happen until May 3, 1980 by Dan Davis, Tom Janisch and Jeff Haley.

My friend Zach Taylor, whom I’d known when he lived in Colorado, is a now a travel nurse stationed in Washington. So, I reached out to him to block out some time for skiing in that general direction, with Mount Rainier being the primary objective. As the time came closer, we realized that the perfect weather window was about to happen – three days of open blue skies. My trip would start out with a bang – skiing the Fuhrer Finger on Mount Rainier.

With the bulk of my ski mountaineering experience being in Colorado, I had limited glacier experience. So, Zach and I set aside a whole day to practice glacier travel and crevasse rescue techniques on the slopes of Mount Rainier.

We used an area near the Paradise parking lot to practice prusiking while we headed up further to set up z-drags.

The next morning, we met Zach’s friend Justin in Ashford, who would be our third partner. We then headed up to Paradise where we would begin our route. From Paradise, the summit of Mount Rainier doesn’t look so far away. But, it’s over a 9000 vertical foot climb from there. Appearances can be so deceiving.

To get to the Fuhrer Finger, we first needed to cross the lower Nisqually Glacier. Justin and Zach.

Gnar lingered above us and we watched seracs fall as the temperatures warmed during the day. Me and Zach.

With overnight and glacier gear stuffed in our packs, they were rather heavy. But we charged on.

We then followed a ridge that lies between the Wilson and Van Trump Glaciers, ascending to about 9200 feet where we found rock formations that blocked the wind. We set up our basecamp here. Looking below our camp.

We got to work digging out snow platforms for our tents, drying our gear, melting snow for water, and cooking dinner. Our camp was warm and comfortable.

Beautiful view from my tent window! Mount Hood in the distance.

Justin and Zach enjoying a Rainier beer on Mount Rainier. Had to happen

The light softened as the sun lowered in the sky.

The scene was simply surreal. Once the sun set over the horizon, the temperatures quickly dropped. We retreated to our tents, anticipating and early start the next morning.

It’s hard to say which is more beautiful. Sunset, or sunrise.

From camp, we headed over toward the base of the Fuhrer Finger.

We had crossed several crevasses the day before and today would be no exception.

Although we had gotten and early start, we quickly realized it wasn’t early enough. We’d heard about the rockfall danger in the Fuhrer Finger, but I’d never experienced rockfall like this before. About 60 seconds a rock came whizzing down at us – most of them golf-ball sized but ranging up to the size of a baseball. After awhile, we stopped yelling “Rock!”. Because we just assumed there was always one coming down. I tried to seek the protection of a rock wall along the side of the chute, and found myself falling in waist-deep into a moat – and the moat went down a lot further just another foot away. I worked my way out of the moat and we continued onward. There really was no other choice. Finally, near the top of the Fuhrer Finger, we hugged the climbers right side, giving us a reprieve in the rockfall where I was able to snap this photo.

At the top of the Fuhrer Finger, we re-entered the upper Nisqually Glacier, which was heavily crevassed.

Seracs hung above us.

We opted to rope up due to these crevasses.

The upper reaches of the Nisqually Glacier are tedious. The view constantly seems to roll over to something ahead, and the glacier just keeps going and going. Once the slopes reduced in steepness enough that we all felt comfortable skinning once again, we dropped the rope. This photo shows Justin on the upper reaches of the Nisqually Glacier with Zach behind.

Zach was tired, and opted to stop in a safe spot while Justin and I charged on to the summit. The summit crater is pretty amazing, labeled on the map as Colombia Crest.

The true summit stands at 14,410 feet, a mound alongside the crater.

Justin and I exchanged photos of one another.

Me mimicking Michael Jackson on the summit with Liberty Cap in the background.

We then skied back down to Zach where we descended our ascent route back to camp. Zach.

Skiing among all the crevasses and seracs was surreal. Justin.

The upper reaches of the Nisqually Glacier are not steep, but I’ll admit I was glad about that as there were plenty of crevasses to make navigation challenging. Me.

Zach making his way to the upper Fuhrer Finger.

Justin and Zach in the distance.

Looking down the Fuhrer Finger. Thankfully, we encountered no rockfall during the descent.

Zach in the Fuhrer Finger.

Me.

Justin.

We descended back to our basecamp where took some time to relax and pack our things before continuing on with our descent down the mountain. We mainly retraced our route across the lower Nisqually Glacier. Justin.

And as we did, I captured this parting shot of Mount Rainier, with Zach in the forefront.

Our descent was over 9000 feet, all the way back to our vehicles – incredible!

After doing this route once, I now know that it would be entirely possible for those used to traveling at 10-14,000 feet to complete this route in one day instead of two. Maybe next time

Want to do this yourself? Among appropriate avalanche and glacier travel/rescue gear, you’ll also need:
– $25 entry fee to Mount Rainier National Park
– $48 for Mount Rainier NP Annual Climbing Fee (good for a year, even if you only need it for a couple of days)
– free camping permit
– A window of great weather!

The post Mount Rainier – Skiing the Fuhrer Finger (14 May 2018) appeared first on 14erskiers.com.

After skiing Mount Wilson in May 2010, I had only two fourteeners left to ski to finish my project. But, Pyramid Peak was no longer in condition, so I had to put my finishing plans on hold. Fast forward to one season later, and I awaited not-so-patiently for a weather window to open in April. That window never appeared in April, and I was getting worried that I wouldn’t be able to finish. I was beginning to feel the pressure of finishing, and it was weighing on me heavily. I just wanted to wrap up this project. So, when a promising high pressure rolled in during the beginning of May, I jumped on it. It was time to get Pyramid Peak done!

Below is a slightly modified version of my report for skiing Pyramid Peak, which would become my 53rd fourteener skied.

I’ve been antsy since April 1st. Pyramid Peak was the road block in my five year goal of skiing all of Colorado’s fourteeners. One of the most intimidating of the fourteeners, it is the only one I’ve had to attempt more than twice, and I was hoping that the third time was the charm. But April never brought the window I was looking for. Winter simply wouldn’t leave. Pow day was followed after pow day. Spring wasn’t ready to arrive and I was left wondering if the window would shut before it ever opened. I kept a constant eye on the weather, and repeatedly watched high pressure after high pressure forecasted in the long term crumble into a winter storm warning. I’ll admit it, I was stressed, and even grumpy at times. The pressure of getting my last two fourteeners done was weighing on me.

Photo courtesy of Caleb Wray

So, when the weather window looked like it was going to open, I called Jordan White– our faithful Aspen-valley friend. He provided me with the necessary beta regarding the Maroon Lake road as well as his opinion on the local snowpack. We rounded up a crew- Matt Kamper, Caleb Wray, and Frank – an excellent mix of strong climbers and strong skiers. And my thoughts were consumed for days about skiing this peak. Am I ready? Because of repeated storm systems, I’ve had so few ski mountaineering days this year…. I can count the times I’ve boot packed this season on one hand and my crampons have been used exactly twice.

On Tuesday, we decided Thursday would be the day. And of course, my mind would not stop racing. I woke up at 3 am on Tuesday night in a cold sweat and was unable to sleep the rest of the night, much to my disappointment. I knew I needed the sleep- I did not want to repeat my first Pyramid attempt where I was forced to turn around because I was falling asleep while climbing. That’s why I nearly cried when Frank and I packed up the car at 6 pm on Wednesday, knowing it would take over four hours to get to Aspen and we had a 1:00 wake up time. Do the math for that one and you’ll find that there are less than 3 hours of time built in for “sleep”. But, who can really sleep the night before a line like this. “I don’t know if I can do this on three hours of sleep in two nights,” I said to Frank. “But, you have to,” he replied. “Okay.” I knew he was right.

Of course, everything took longer than it should have and we didn’t even make it to Aspen. We pulled over somewhere on the road west of Carbondale and “slept” for a couple of hours there before waking up at a time that most people call night, but we were calling it morning. We met up with Jordan, Caleb, and Matt at Aspen Highlands and made our way to the trailhead.

Snowmobiling on a road in the dark is one thing. But, snowmobiling for a mile and a half on pavement with plowed banks beside you is not only frustrating, but silly. Overheating was an issue and we were thankful when we reached unplowed road.

We left our snowmobiles a little bit before 4 am at Maroon Lake and made our way toward the couloir that led to the northern amphitheater on Pyramid. The skies were clear and it was cold. “You’re moving fast,” Jordan commented. “Well yeah, we gotta DO this thing!” I knew today was going to be the day. Three hours of sleep for the last two nights didn’t matter anymore. I’d found some strength deep inside that I didn’t know I had, and it was carrying me through this. It was my dream to ski this and I was living it. I was dreaming and living at the same time.

First light hit on our way up the couloir, as we were transitioning from skinning to boot packing.

Booting was frustrating up the northern couloir. The snow pack had not yet transitioned to spring. It was still winter there. The first sunlight that pierced the north face of Pyramid was alarming.

Photo courtesy of Jordan White

And we cruised through the amphitheater. We found better snow on the northwest face and made good time gaining the northeast ridge.

Photo courtesy of Jordan White

Frank and I reaching the saddle of the north east ridge.

Photo courtesy of Jordan White

The saddle offers the first view of the Landry line itself. Last year, I stood on this saddle in mid-May but was forced to turn around due to uncooperative weather. I was hoping it would look less intimidating this time around. But that was not the case.

At the saddle, we sadly said our goodbye’s to Caleb. Today was simply not his day, and he opted to turn around. But, he kindly hankered down for a bit and took some great pictures. Thank you Caleb!

Jordan, leading the way.

Photo courtesy of Caleb Wray

We were only 1000 feet from the summit, but we still had a long ways to go. First, the knife edge.

Photo courtesy of Jordan White

Photo courtesy of Caleb Wray

Photo courtesy of Caleb Wray

Photo courtesy of Caleb Wray

The knife edge almost broke me. The exposure to the northwest (1000 foot cliff) was unnerving. I have the boys to thank for help keeping me level headed. I was glad when we paused for a short break before attacking the east face itself.

Photo courtesy of Jordan White

Matt.

Jordan and I making our way to the face.

Though steeper, I was much more comfortable on the east face. Maybe it’s the fact that I have only one way to fall down instead of two

Making our way to the crux of the route. The rock band was laden with crumbly stones and sugary snow.

Photo courtesy of Jordan White

Jordan and I rounding our way up to the summit.

Frank and I- happy to be together on the summit of the peak that is the reason we met. Long story short, Frank and I met in 2006 shortly after he skied Pyramid for the first time. I was looking for partners to help me ski the fourteeners and his name caught my attention after his Crested Butte crew made the third known full descent of the Landry line- Chris Landry skied this line in 1978, not to be repeated again (at least, that we know) until Chris Davenport and his crew descended it in 2006.

Jordan, with a different view of the Bells behind.

Frank, ready to ski!

And he led the way for us.

Photo courtesy of Jordan White

Me.

Photo courtesy of Jordan White

Looking down.

Matt.

Photo courtesy of Jordan White

Frank.

Photo courtesy of Jordan White

Photo courtesy of Jordan White

Photo courtesy of Jordan White

Photo courtesy of Jordan White

Jordan.

Me.

Photo courtesy of Jordan White

Photo courtesy of Jordan White

Photo courtesy of Jordan White

I couldn’t be happier as we approached the bottom of the 4300’+ line.

Photo courtesy of Jordan White

We sat there at the bottom of the East Maroon creek valley floor, relaxing, and admiring the line from below, in awe of what just happened. The Landry Line is in Davenport’s book the Fifty Classic Descents of North America for a reason. It is a classic line. A 4000+ foot sustained steep line like this is nearly unheard of in Colorado. But, here the Landry Line sits in all it’s perfection. I would gladly ski it again.

Our line.

Our tracks.

While I relished in the joy of skiing such a fantastic line, my thoughts turned back to my over-arching fourteeners goal. Pyramid was my second to last fourteener I had left to ski, and I had just skied it. In skiing it, I had overcome a hurdle that had been causing me far to much anxiety for the last year. The pressure, the stress – it all magically disappeared in this moment. I was elated. Yet I was sad that this magic moment was now over. Was it all a dream? It sure felt like one. We couldn’t have had a more perfect day.

The four of us- Jordan, Frank, me, and Matt. I cannot thank these boys enough!

While I wanted to sit and bask in the sun below the best line I have ever skied, magic moments, like all things, have to come to an end. Smiling, we packed our things, and made our way down the East Maroon Creek valley. We were already making plans for what we were going to ski next.

Frank’s helmetcam. It’s a little washed out and foggy, but still enjoyable.

Pyramid Landry Line 5-5-11 from 14erskiers on Vimeo.

After finishing Pyramid, I was eager to get on Pikes Peak – my last fourteener. I tried out round up a crew to join me for the weekend on Pikes, but there were some plans that interfered with that, including a memorial service for my good friend Lacy Meadows who had perished while skiing in July the previous year. I haven’t written about this very much, but the energy I felt that morning while climbing Pyramid I believe came from Lacy. I felt his presence as I climbed, and I think he helped push me up the mountain. It would be wrong to make conflicting plans on the day that was meant to honor him.

That said, I decided to hold off my plans to finish on Pikes for another week. In the meantime, we had 3 more days of a great weather window to take advantage of. So, the day after skiing Pyramid, we headed out to the Sopris Laundry Chutes with Lou Dawson and Jordan White. Then, we returned home to ski Ruby Chute and play in a zone that we call Little Alaska where we did a tour of five peaks. I returned from the weekend utterly exhausted, but completely satisfied. I was going to finally finish my project

The post 14er TBT: Pyramid Peak, Landry Line Ski (5 May 2011) appeared first on 14erskiers.com.

Colorado’s fourteeners are highly revered both for their altitude and multitude. They come in all varieties – short and easy, to long and difficult. Most of you who have made your way to this blog probably know what defines a “fourteener”. But, for those who don’t a fourteener is a peak that is over 14,000 feet tall. Depending on which list you go by, there are approximately 54 fourteeners in Colorado. These peaks are most known for their hikes and climbs. But, some of them have classic ski lines – like Torreys, Sneffels, and South Maroon.

Still, it has only been in the last decade that many of the fourteeners have really opened up to backcountry skiers and snowboarders. We have pioneers like Chris Davenport (who completed all of Colorado’s fourteeners in one year), Sean Crossen, Chris Webster, Pam Rice, and others to thank for this. While not all of these pioneers have yet finished their fourteener-skiing goals, their efforts cannot go unnoticed.

As far as we know, there are a dozen people who have finished skiing or snowboarding all of Colorado’s fourteeners. Lou Dawson was the true pioneer, exploring the absolute unknown, and finishing in 1991 after a whole lot of effort. But, then the fourteener window seemed to close to wait for the gear to catch up. When it finally did, technology had unleashed the information superhighway and suddenly beta was much easier to obtain. The Internet allowed backcountry skiers to easily find out informtion on routes, weather, and avalanche danger. Chris Davenport was perhaps one of the first to really utilize all of these resources to their max, becoming the second person to ski all of Colorado’s fourteeners in 2006, paving the way for others behind him and ushering in a new generation of ski mountaineers. Davenport is considered by many to have set the standard for Colorado fourteener skiing.

There are more firsts – like Jarrett Luttrell, the first snowboarder; and Christy Sauer Mahon, the first woman. And there will be more firsts later on down the line, surely. I, personally, am awaiting completion by the first female snowboarder.

While the number of fourteener-skiing finishers continues to increase, there is no doubt that skiing all of Colorado’s 54 fourteeners takes a certain mindset, skill, athletics, careful planning, and a whole lot of commitment. Because of this, all of these fourteener-skiing finishers share a common thread.

That’s what this article is about. I was able to interview 11 of the Colorado fourteener-skiing and snowboarding finishers (including myself). I gave them each a half-dozen or so questions to answer and left the responses loosely up to them. I wanted to see what would happen. For some of the people who seemed more willing, I asked a couple more questions. The responses I received are included in this article.

The People

The 11 people I was able to interview for this article are:

1) Marc Barella – the 2nd snowboarder and the 12th person overall. Marc took just under 6 years to finish his project, starting in May of 2008 and finishing on Culebra in April 2014.

2) Matt Kamper – 11th person overall. Matt was able to finish his 14er-skiing project in just 4 years, finishing in 2013 on Snowmass Mountain.
3) Carl Dowdy – 10th person overall. Carl finished in a little over 5 years, finishing in May 2013.

4) Brittany Walker Konsella – 2nd woman and 9th person overall. I began my project in April 2006, and finished in May 2011 – just over 5 years. I skied the majority of them in just two seasons, but then came to an abrupt halt. By 2008-9, I had only 9 left to go, and didn’t get to ski a single one because I tore my ACL which required reconstructive surgery.

5) Jarrett Luttrell – 1st snowboarder and 8th person overall, finishing on Capitol the same exact day that Christy Mahon finished. Jarrett states, “I started in 1998 but in 2000 I thought it would be a great project. I had no concept of ‘firsts’. That actually came a couple of years later through the literature I found at the college.”

6) Christy Sauer Mahon – 7th person overall and first woman. Christy finished in about 6 years and finished on Pyramid in 2010. Christy is married to Ted Mahon.

7) Joe Brannan – 6th person overall. 6th person overall. “The project took me a little over three years with a finish on Wetterhorn in May in 2009. I did tick one descent in 2005 on Mt Elbert but didn’t start the project until March 2006. I was lucky with conditions having to repeat just 3 summit-ski attempts on Grays (avalanche danger), Massive (avalanche!), and Crestone Needle (lack of snow).”

8) Jordan White – 5th person overall. Jordan was able to complete his 14er project in 3 years to the day, finishing in 2009. Jordan began his project not too long after being involved in a climbing accident on the Maroon Bells which resulted in the loss of his father. Jordan’s adventures can be followed on his blog at Elks and Beyond.

9) Frank Konsella – 4th person overall, my husband, and contributor to this blog 14erskiers.com. Frank began on Gray’s in 1995 and finished on Harvard in 2008.

10) Ted Mahon – 3rd person overall. Ted skied his first fourteener in March, 1997 and finished 11 years later, in April 2008. Ted and Christy’s adventures can be followed on their blog at stuckintherockies.com.

11) Lou Dawson – The father of fourteener-skiing, as he was the 1st to complete them all. Lou operates the famed blog and backcountry resource wildsnow.com and explains in his own words:

As most of you guys know, I was the first one to do it and the project took 13 years, started in 1978 and completed in 1991. (I wasn’t doing it as a goal till 1987). Most of the time I felt like one of those early deep-ocean solo sailors. We had no internet, no easy or accurate weather, no fat skis and no guidebooks that had any skiing information.

In the case of most peaks I didn’t have any concept of how they would ski, and some were thought to be impossible to make any kind of meaningful “ski descent” on, this especially true of Capitol Peak, which was actually pretty reasonable in terms of technicality and staying on skis for nearly everything, though still dangerous due to all the cliffs.

In the end, the difficulty of the project made it all the more special, but I have to say it was pretty tough. I didn’t race through it as I wasn’t trying to set a time record — it was just overall a very slow process. I’m sure out of all the other guys who came after me, I had the highest failure rate. I’ve lost count of all the returns and re-dos (just the money and time on the road were ridiculous), but wow what a way to experience Colorado. When it was done (1991), the joke on me was of course that my ego told me I’d done a cool thing, but when my intellect saw that nobody tried to be second so many years later, I had to wonder if it was just a lame project that wouldn’t catch the imagination of other ski mountaineers.

One of the intentions of my 14er guidebooks (two volumes published in the 1980s, now out of print) was to share how wonderful skiing the Fourteeners is. I’m sure the books helped spread the word, but again, I was surprised how slow the project caught on. I have to think perhaps it really was overly tough and technical until better skis, internet, etcetera helped make it less daunting (though it’s still plenty hard and I admire anyone who does it).

What made you start your Colorado 14er-skiing project?

Jarrett: I was riding up the Paradise lift one day with Dave Scheefer the mason. It was a windy shitty day. No accumulation. Just blowing snow. Young Travis, and Grand Traverse winner sat between us. I said congratulations. I told him I was trying to finish the fourteeners on splitboard.

Silence.

The chair continued up out of that last patch of trees into the wind and total whiteout. I started to say something about idle time when he interrupted me, Travis still quiet.

“You know…
NO ONE CAN EVER TAKE THAT AWAY FROM YOU!”

Dave Scheefer left me with a gift that no one could take away.

Validation – the oldest, dirtiest stamp of approval.

Frank: I’ve always been interested in climbing mountains, and I climbed all the 14ers in 1996 (for the first time). Half my library is mountaineering books. I was skiing the occasional 14er here and there before Brittany and I met. That’s when the fever struck. We were skiing a 14er every chance we could, and all of a sudden, the goal didn’t seem so daunting. So I really have Brittany to thank for pushing me over the edge.

Joe: A good question as my background wouldn’t suggest finding this path. My parents grew up in Iowa and moved to the suburbs of Denver to raise their three boys. As a family we camped and fished a couple times each summer and did some casual hiking to lakes around Green Mountain Reservoir. Mountaineering was not in our vocabulary and it would be pushing it to assume I had 25 ski days prior to getting my driver’s license. Sophomore year in college I got bored after breaking my hand pretty bad skateboarding and was looking for something to occupy my time. My Leadville native roommate Alex introduced me hiking 14ers and I got hooked, finishing the list in a couple years. Those same winters I discovered earn-your-turns skiing off of Berthoud Pass. Together those experiences introduced me to the joy of overcoming challenges in the mountains and the freedom of backcountry skiing. When I realized the two passions could be combined (by reading Lou’s 14er guidebooks) and had only been done once, I caught sight of a unique opportunity for adventure. An opportunity for adventure with a cutting edge element to it but at the same time goal which was approachable for a hack like me. What more could you want?

Brittany: I had been a former freestyle skier and was a coach. I loved skiing, but I was growing a bit weary of the freestyle scene. I needed a change of pace and a change of scene. Enter backcountry skiing, which renewed my passion for the sport which I’d loved since the age of 4. As a goal-oriented person, I am always searching for goals to bring structure and meaning to my life. Chris Davenport was skiing all the fourteeners at the time, and I thought that might be a pretty worthy thing to try. I didn’t really know what I was getting myself into. But, I had a pretty good idea. And it turns out I wasn’t far off base.

Carl: The short answer is: I wanted to climb all the 14ers and didn’t feel like walking down.

The long answer is: The first 14er summit I reached (on foot) was Mt. Yale in 2006, shortly after moving to Colorado. I had turned around on Yale in 1996 with Boy Scouts and was anxious to give it another go. In 2007 I hiked my second 14er and decided that climbing all of them would be a great way to explore the state. After a hiking a few more 14ers I realized that skiing down would be a whole lot more fun than walking down. I set out to ski most of them, but it wasn’t until I had skied maybe 40 of the 14ers that I decided Capitol and Pyramid seemed like a reasonable endeavor on skis (rightly so or not).

Matt: To begin with, I grew up in Colorado and always knew (or knew of) a few people who had hiked/climbed all the 14ers in summer. I had done some (12? 20?) but had no interest in pursuing it as a project. I had also done some ski mountaineering with my folks in the Indian Peaks and the Loveland Pass area when I was a kid.

Then in December of 2008 I tore a rotator cuff in a skiing fall at Beaver Creek and had to have surgery. That put me out for a long time and I developed a king-hell case of cabin fever. At the same time I realized that the prime ski mountaineering season coincides with the end of my busy season at work. (I had always ended the ski season a little disappointed because my job keeps me inside so much.) So I had plenty of time to think about it, study about it, and do some serious therapeutic gear shopping. I was cleared to ski in April of 2009, my first peak was Quandary on the 27th (after a couple of shorter outings to check out gear and fitness). Turned out to be the best thing I have ever done.

What was the 14er you’d like to go back to most and why?

Lou: I’ve had more than 30 years to “go back to” fourteeners. For a long time I enjoyed re-dos of ones that didn’t have good snow during my “official” project span. But as the years progressed I’ve changed my goals and like the easier peaks I can do with varied friends and family. If you want to be a lifelong skier, your approach will change over the years — it’s important to embrace that and not fight it. Elbert is of course at the top of the list, provided it has the rare coating of good spring snow. I’d love to horse-pack into Snowmass in the spring some day after a big winter and do a basecamp gig. I’ve done a lot of routes off the 14ers, but there are of course hundreds if not thousands I’ve not done. Thus, in all truth if I go back to any 14er and do a route that’s new to me, that’s another peak I’d like to go back to.

Ted: Actually, I’d like to go back to any of them that I experienced with bad snow. There’s nothing better than skiing a 14er with good snow. In particular I feel the need to get back to Antero, because that was the ski descent with the worst snow of all of them for me.

Frank: Pyramid. The Landry line is amazing and I could do it a hundred times and be happy. But Pyramid has other routes that I would like to get on as well, such as the west face.

Jordan: Pyramid and North Maroon. I try to ski them almost every year. Pyramid is the best of the best ski lines in the state from a technical, fall line, and aesthetic standpoint.

Joe: North Maroon, the feeling of skiing that North Face (with you Brittany!) in deep powder was something else. Pyramid in powder is a close second, but I’m not sure I will ever be on the Landry Line again.

Christy: We actually go back and ski 14ers fairly often. Going back to ski the Southwest Couloir on South Maroon was one of my favorite ‘re-visits’ and Missouri was such a fun ski the second time, I might consider going back for a third.

Jarrett: I like going back to Sneffels a lot. It’s just fun, the memories are fun, there are still runs to the North and west I haven’t done or seen. It is exemplary of the San Juans.

Brittany: I’ve been back to a few of the 14ers and have enjoyed trying out some other lines on them. The Snake on Sneffels was a goal I finally checked off the list last spring. But, I feel like I need to go back to Huron… I skied it so late in the year, and I think I’d like to go back and do it in better style and give that mountain some justice. That being said, I’d love to head back to the Landry Line on Pyramid too. The Landry is one line that is hard to top and Pyramid remains my most favorite of all the fourteeners.

Carl: North Maroon has everything. A sustained and aesthetic line, surrounded by gorgeous scenery, with a good bit of excitement without being over-the-top scary. On top of that it’s got a storied history among early ski mountaineers. I can’t wait to get back.

Matt: Pyramid was my favorite, I think that’s the most spectacular ski run I’ve ever done, although there are several I’d do again in a heartbeat.

Marc: I would like to go back and ride Pyramid the most. I thought it embodied a lot of the best parts of 14er ski mountaineering. The Landry Line is an incredibly steep and committing descent that has to be in to ride/ski it. It is a very aesthetic nice long continuous line with a solid approach. It was just one of those experiences where you look at the work you put in to get there (that day and through out your life) and the rewards are there. To me it was very fulfilling and the pinnacle of riding the 14ers.

What was your favorite 14er experience and why?

Lou: I’d have to say that skiing South Maroon with my son and some special alpinist friends is at the top of the list. Family, again, so special. But crawling over Broken Hand Pass in 100mph winds with my face getting cut from gravel also stands out (didn’t ski it that day). That’s a good example of how non existent the weather reports were in those days. Can you believe I drove all the way down there from Aspen for that experience? And since this question isn’t specific to “Colorado,” I’d add that skiing “14er” Denali from the summit in 2010 when I was 58 years old, again with my son, was one of the amazing experiences of my life. I couldn’t have done that without his help, what an experience to switch roles.

Ted: Skiing Pyramid with Chris Davenport and Neal (Beidleman) in 2006. It just seemed so unlikely— one of those “Wow, I can’t believe that just happened” moments that stick with you.

Frank: Skiing the line looker’s left of the Landry Line on Pyramid. Lou Dawson mentioned the line in his 14er guidebook as a possible first descent, so I really wanted to do it. It took several tries before I skied it. I wouldn’t be surprised if some Aspen guys had already skied it, but maybe it was a first. And of course the East face of Castle as well- that’s the first peak that Brittany and I skied together.

Jordan: Hard to beat the day Joe and Andy and I skied the Snake Couloir on Sneffels in 20 inches of blower pow. But, man was it a long way back up and over to the car after.

Joe: Definitely two responses here… the first is about an attempt on Mount Massive. Jordan White and I had a bit too much youthful enthusiasm in December and got halfway up the southwest slopes before bailing due to heavy snow and wind. We had nearly skied back to the safety of the trees when a giant natural avalanche took us out from above. We miraculously both survived and self-evacuated. I broke a leg and lost a ski, Jordan lost both skis. What I remember most about that event is fighting my way out of a partial burial and looking downhill for Jordan. It was incredible! I watched him bust out of a debris pile from his own burial while at the same time pulling his beacon out to start the search for me. We learned a powerful lesson about natural avalanches that day.

The second experience was also with Jordan, this day on Capitol Peak. We saw a window open for the first calendar winter descent (as far as we know) and went for it in a daytrip. We were both in great shape and found good conditions on the Green Line. I vividly remember to this day the first wet-slides of the season pouring over the big cliffs as we made big turns past Pierre Lakes. Threading the needle on that one was awesome!

Christy: One of my best 14er experiences was skiing the Maroon Bells – also two of my favorite peaks. It was the beginning of June 2008, we’d had an incredible season, Ted had just finished skiing the 14ers, and we were still skiing. We went for North Maroon on Saturday and had so much fun, we went back and skied South Maroon the next day – it was a good weekend!

Jarrett: The East Face Wilson Peak with powder snow.

Brittany: This is really a tough question because there’s a “small picture” answer, and a large picture answer.

For the small picture, the Landry Line on Pyramid was my favorite fourteener experience. After two previous attempts, it felt great to have it go smoothly. The climb is fun and challenging enough to get you amped. And the ski is steep and long. Over 4000′-vertical of fun skiing is hard to find in Colorado, and the Landry Line has it. Maybe it was that it was my second to last fourteener, and the only one I had to try more than twice. But, the sense of accomplishment I felt after finishing Pyramid was wonderful.

For the larger picture, my favorite 14er experience was being able to connect with like-minded people and travel to ski throughout the state. The fourteeners gave me a reason to go to places that were unknown to me, to discover new mountains and new lines to ski. Through that, I met a network of amazing people who have become some of my greatest friends. I even met Frank, my now husband

Carl: Perhaps it’s just because it’s fresh in my mind, but my favorite 14er experience on skis came after I finished skiing them. A dozen good friends skied Torreys this past June followed by a cookout in the parking lot. We didn’t have the adventure of exploring a new line, but we also weren’t hustling to try to gain the summit to check it off the list, dealing with route finding issues, or as concerned about snowpack analysis given the current conditions. We took our time, sharing stories and heckling each other on the climb, skied a fun line, and generally enjoyed a relaxing day with great company. On the other end of the spectrum, Capitol is a close second.

Matt: Again, Pyramid pops into mind, though I had so many outstanding experiences that it would be hard to pick just one. Here are a few to choose from:
– Ben Conners and I had a perfect day on Huron, when everything just clicked into place
– Meeting Brittany, Frank, and Pam on Little Bear and skiing Baby Thunder
– Crestone Needle (Carl’s finisher) – perfect example of teamwork on a peak, plus we had all worked really hard and made multiple attempts so it was especially sweet to succeed
– The Chicago Basin 14ers trip was a true multimedia adventure, with the steam train ride, igloo camping in the basin, great climbing and skiing

More to Come

As stated at the beginning, this is the first part in a two part series of articles that focuses on interviewing those skiers and snowboarders who have completed descents of all of Colorado’s 14,000-foot peaks. We still have more questions to ask our fourteener finishers. Check back Wednesday morning for Part Two

The post Interviews with 11 of Colorado’s Fourteener-Skiing Finishers appeared first on 14erskiers.com.

I had been eying this peak for a few years, but didn’t actually seriously consider it until this season. Suddenly, it became a real goal- a must-do. And so we did it.

We began in the early morning hours, parking at the closed gate about 1/4 of a mile past the now-defunct Avery Picnic area. We began hiking on an unofficial trail that leads from there to Rustler’s Gulch.

We found good firm snow to travel upon through most of Rustler’s Gulch.

Precarious on the left, Cassi in the middle, Goldentops on the right.

The meltwater was running on top of the snow, similar to glaciers.

Climbing Precarious is difficult, though easier done in snow-cover due to the extremely loose talus. We ended up climbing the notch between the two peaks (hidden in the picture, but snow-filled), then ascending the steep snowfield shown in the picture. Not seeing a feasible way to the summit from there, we downclimbed a few hundred feet down into the next lookers right snowfield, which led us to the summit.

The climb, at times, was very steep – 50+ degrees. Here, I was very much wishing I had my second ice axe.

After the downclimb which led us lookers right into a hanging snowfield, we had a clear route to the summit.

Finally, on the summit, we took a few moments to rest. A view looking to the east.

The summit of Precarious is precarious as well. Though long, it’s not very wide. We had to follow the knife edge eastward for a bit before arriving to the top of our north-facing line. This was difficult for me as I don’t do well with huge exposure on both sides. I wanted to avoid the debacle and drop down one of the south facing chutes, but the sun had been on them too long. They were no longer safe to ski. Our only option was the north-facing couloirs, in which we would drop in “blind”, not having actually seen what we were going to ski or knowing whether or not the line skied cleanly. Jarrett, checking out the routes to the south.

I’ll be honest, the climb had shaken me. All of it was more difficult than I anticipated and I was shaking from adrenaline. I took some time to regroup for a moment as we transitioned to ski. But, Jarrett was antsy, and descended to the bottom without us.

My first turns were steep, but helped get the jitters out.

Frank paused at a notch where the route split. We tried to signal down to Jarrett to help us determine whether the left route actually went. But, the signals were lost. I volunteered to follow Jarrett’s tracks down and then signal back up to Frank to help guide him down the mountain.

While Frank waited for me to arrive to the bottom, he enjoyed some of the views. Looking north toward Len Shoemaker and the Pyramid Massif.

Meanwhile, I dropped out of Frank’s sight into the depths of the steep couloir, following Jarrett’s tracks. His tracks led through a tight, rocky choke. Upon first glance, I didn’t think much about it. I figured I’d have to sidestep over the 20-ft section of rocks. No big deal, I’m from Crested Butte afterall, and billy goating is the essence of skiing here. But, upon closer inspection, the choke was steeper, narrower, and gnarlier than I’d anticipated. Straightlining over it was not an option as there was a very deep runnel right in the landing zone.

I turned to begin the sidestep and quickly realized that the rock was not grippy. It was coated with a thin layer of ice. I saw a 6-inch crown to my right, indicating that Jarrett had released a small pocket of snow that had probably covered some of the choke. My skis bowed from end to end as they clung on to rock on either side of the choke, too wide for the choke itself. Sweat poured down my face as I realized this choke was, in actuality, very dangerous. I knew I was taking forever with the careful placement of each step. I knew that Frank was standing up top, wondering what was taking me so long. And I knew that if he began skiing down, all of his slough would come pouring down on me, sending me straight over the choke and into the runnel below.

The last few steps of the choke were impossible. The rock on one side was too convex, too smooth, and too slippery for my skis to keep an edge on it. Again, I contemplated just hopping off and jumping the remaining 5 or 6 feet. But, the runnel was there, right were I would land. I envisioned a nice blown knee if I tried that move. But, right under my feet was a foot wide strip of deep snow, hugged in between bulging rocks. Taking off my skis in precarious situations like these is never really an option, yet here, it suddenly was. My skis simply had nothing to grip on to, but if I could just get my feet into the snow, all would be good.

So, I kicked off a ski, and then the other. I threw one down about 10 feet into a better area and used the other as an anchor in the snow. I slowly downclimbed the last few feet of the choke and onto the widening couloir of snow. As I grabbed my other ski, I tried to stomp out a flattened zone to help me put my skis back on. But, I could not put my skis on. My whole body was shaking, and I was fumbling with even the simple things.

I sidestepped to my left and out of the path of any slough that might come down as I took a few deep breaths to calm down my shaking body. A few moments later, I heard the movement of slough pouring over the rocks. Frank had gotten tired of waiting, and was on his way down.

As I heard his skis turning over the snow, I yelled, trying to warn him about the choke. But, then it was still. I did not hear yells back or see any more moving snow. What happened to Frank? I fumbled again, finally getting my downhill ski on, then my uphill. As I gazed up, I saw slough pouring down below me, coming from another line that apparently emptied into mine a couple hundred feet or so below the choke.

Frank had seen the choke, and instead of getting sucked in like I did, decided to peer over the un-obvious shoulder, and found an alternate route to the skiers left. Frank’s line.

Finally, Frank emerged following all the slough, happy that I had made it through the choke. My legs were all wobbly after the day’s adventures, but I pulled it together to make the remaining turns out of the line.

Frank. In this picture, you can see the choke on the left, and Frank’s line on the right. The choke, in this picture, looks relatively benign and not steep, as it did as I approached it from above. Believe, me, this was not the case, and this picture does not serve it justice.

I was relieved when I emerged out of the couloir and on to the apron.

As we all regrouped, we pondered how to best get out of the basin. We saw col to the looker’s left of Precarious, and thought that might be an easy way out. But, at that point in time, I was done with having precarious adventures and wanted to go a way that we knew would work for sure. It was long, but it was known. We would traverse our way over to East Maroon Pass, and then drop down into Copper Creek.

A look back up at Precarious.

A zoomed in view of our line, which continuously zigzagged down the mountain like a lightning bolt.

Traversing through the East Maroon Creek basin allowed us time to enjoy all the things that this amazing remote area has to offer.

As we rounded the corner, we got a bit turned around. But, a bear showed us the way over East Maroon Pass

The freshness of the tracks indicted the bear had been there earlier in the afternoon.

Arriving to the top of East Maroon Pass, with the Pyramid Massif behind, and the East Maroon Creek leading down toward Aspen.

From the pass, we admired the views to the south east- The Spider Face and Queen Basin in the distance.

We skied down the pass and right by the slowly melting Copper Lake.

And it was all downhill from there…. Although the route finding through the snow between Copper Lake and the first Copper Creek crossing was difficult and slog-like. Once we finally reunited with the main Copper Creek trail, we put our heads down and skate-skied/walked the remaining 5 miles out.

On the hardest peaks I have skied, I’ve always been mentally prepared for what challenges the mountain has to bring. But, this was not the case this day. Precarious kept throwing more and more at us- from steep climbing and downclimbing, to a knife edge, steep skiing, and a dangerous choke, this mountain wouldn’t let up. Nevertheless, I am glad we pushed through these challenges. Altogether, it was one of those days that was incredibly nerve-racking, yet amazingly fun.

Precarious peak should not go underestimated. Remote and largely unknown, this peak harbors some amazing lines. Precarious definitely ranks among my top 5 of difficult peaks to climb and ski. But, it will also remain as a major highlight, both for this season and beyond.

The post A Precarious Day appeared first on 14erskiers.com.