January 4, 2004, Mt. Baker backcountry
1/4/04
WA Cascades West Slopes North (Mt Baker)
3809
5
When I grow up, I hope to be Gregg C., with his long vacations and boundless energy. In the meantime, I'll have to be satisfied with thrashing endless fields of previously-unthrashed Mt. Baker powder...at 3 below zero. Yes, it was noticeably brisk today. Chilly, in fact. In North Cascades terms: cold. When I left the parking lot, it was still below zero (about -20 C), and the ski area reported a midafternoon high of 6 degrees.
My usual partners opted out of the day's journey, claiming prior engagements, reluctance to travel on slippery streets, even dislike for arctic windchills, flash-frozen flesh and interstate highways which might as well have been coated in Teflon. (Aside: it is amazing what five inches of fluffy snow can do to a town the size of Bellingham which does not even do snow removal, and which considers adequate sanding to consist of loading up a dumptruck, putting a few town workers in back with shovels, then sending them to toss sand around at intersections of major arterial roads.) In the event, the further I drove from Bellingham, the better the roads were until I hit bare pavement just past Deming. Traffic was light, and even the ski area was free of crowds.
By contrast, the backcountry seemed crowded today, if only because virtually everyone was headed for the same exact spot on Mt. Herman, and most were using the same skintrack to get there. Skiing was nonetheless splendid, with ample untracked, stable, glorious powder, cold and dry and at worst only slightly wind-affected although there are obvious signs of worse slabbing scattered almost randomly on ridges and rollovers.
By a remarkable stroke of luck (and judicious exercise of a bit of cringingly servile flattery), I succeeded in attaching myself to a threesome led by noted literary critic and occasional TAY poster, Tim Place. We skied north and east aspects, including some fairly steep bits (to 45 degrees) which I surreptitiously skirted when I thought no one was looking. Honesty compels me to admit that I had a bit of trouble keeping up with this trio of AT skiers, who always seemed to be waiting patiently for me far below. In fact, I carried a video camera which I never used, seeing no point to filling it with footage of tiny specks trailing plumes of white smoke, plummeting into valleys far below me. Instead, I concentrated on staying upright, an attempt clearly located on the cutting edge of my abilities.
After six hours and quite a few thousands of vertical feet of this, my companions let it be known that they preferred drinking beer in a warm ski lodge to skinning for turns in bone-chilling cold and incipient darkness, so I left them, and went huffing and puffing my way upwards for one last run down the line known locally as "The Line." Although not exactly pristine, this easily-accessed run still harbored considerable quantities of deep, untracked snow at the end of the day. I tried to whoop a bit, but was foiled by a massive encrustation of mustache and beard snotcicles which prevented me from moving my lips. I settled for a few snickers and chortles.
Lots of great skiing remains within a mile of the parking lot. With the long-term forecast looking grim, there's no better time than now.
Enjoy,
Mark
My usual partners opted out of the day's journey, claiming prior engagements, reluctance to travel on slippery streets, even dislike for arctic windchills, flash-frozen flesh and interstate highways which might as well have been coated in Teflon. (Aside: it is amazing what five inches of fluffy snow can do to a town the size of Bellingham which does not even do snow removal, and which considers adequate sanding to consist of loading up a dumptruck, putting a few town workers in back with shovels, then sending them to toss sand around at intersections of major arterial roads.) In the event, the further I drove from Bellingham, the better the roads were until I hit bare pavement just past Deming. Traffic was light, and even the ski area was free of crowds.
By contrast, the backcountry seemed crowded today, if only because virtually everyone was headed for the same exact spot on Mt. Herman, and most were using the same skintrack to get there. Skiing was nonetheless splendid, with ample untracked, stable, glorious powder, cold and dry and at worst only slightly wind-affected although there are obvious signs of worse slabbing scattered almost randomly on ridges and rollovers.
By a remarkable stroke of luck (and judicious exercise of a bit of cringingly servile flattery), I succeeded in attaching myself to a threesome led by noted literary critic and occasional TAY poster, Tim Place. We skied north and east aspects, including some fairly steep bits (to 45 degrees) which I surreptitiously skirted when I thought no one was looking. Honesty compels me to admit that I had a bit of trouble keeping up with this trio of AT skiers, who always seemed to be waiting patiently for me far below. In fact, I carried a video camera which I never used, seeing no point to filling it with footage of tiny specks trailing plumes of white smoke, plummeting into valleys far below me. Instead, I concentrated on staying upright, an attempt clearly located on the cutting edge of my abilities.
After six hours and quite a few thousands of vertical feet of this, my companions let it be known that they preferred drinking beer in a warm ski lodge to skinning for turns in bone-chilling cold and incipient darkness, so I left them, and went huffing and puffing my way upwards for one last run down the line known locally as "The Line." Although not exactly pristine, this easily-accessed run still harbored considerable quantities of deep, untracked snow at the end of the day. I tried to whoop a bit, but was foiled by a massive encrustation of mustache and beard snotcicles which prevented me from moving my lips. I settled for a few snickers and chortles.
Lots of great skiing remains within a mile of the parking lot. With the long-term forecast looking grim, there's no better time than now.
Enjoy,
Mark
Mark,
And when I grow up I want to write entertaining trip reports like yours. I too have perfected the "Hey folks, where are you heading " partner needed come on. Although it failed me for the first time at the pass when I approached a couple on the trail near the hut. Dude coped an attitude with me and told me with a mocking voice and a laugh to leave my shovel and beacon at home since I was alone and wouldn't need it. " I will tell you what, I said, I will leave the shovel and beacon back at the hut if you keep yourself and your bullsh*t comments back at whatever town you came from."
"Hey, thanks for the great avy advice" was my departing shot. What a jerk.
The skiing was great that day and I quickly forgot the ass in the morning. Plus I ended up with the Wardens.
Two hour arrival delay at the schools today. Damn! No brass ring so I can't go out and sample the attrative snow you described at the hill. Guess I have to work today. >:(
Gregg
And when I grow up I want to write entertaining trip reports like yours. I too have perfected the "Hey folks, where are you heading " partner needed come on. Although it failed me for the first time at the pass when I approached a couple on the trail near the hut. Dude coped an attitude with me and told me with a mocking voice and a laugh to leave my shovel and beacon at home since I was alone and wouldn't need it. " I will tell you what, I said, I will leave the shovel and beacon back at the hut if you keep yourself and your bullsh*t comments back at whatever town you came from."
"Hey, thanks for the great avy advice" was my departing shot. What a jerk.
The skiing was great that day and I quickly forgot the ass in the morning. Plus I ended up with the Wardens.
Two hour arrival delay at the schools today. Damn! No brass ring so I can't go out and sample the attrative snow you described at the hill. Guess I have to work today. >:(
Gregg
Ah -- the waiting game!
It was nice of Steve and Jeff to wait for me and Mark on the way down, and all three of them to wait for me on the way up! Hey, "they also serve who ony stand and wait". Milton said that.
Truth be told this was the last of a series of days of "Chugach Snow" -- the kind of stuff Baker gets a few times a year which proves stable at any angle you choose -- save for a slab of a few inches of wind-drift. My only regret is leaving behind so much unskied snow, especially while watching Mark head for more as my tongue was dragging me toward the car.
It was nice of Steve and Jeff to wait for me and Mark on the way down, and all three of them to wait for me on the way up! Hey, "they also serve who ony stand and wait". Milton said that.
Truth be told this was the last of a series of days of "Chugach Snow" -- the kind of stuff Baker gets a few times a year which proves stable at any angle you choose -- save for a slab of a few inches of wind-drift. My only regret is leaving behind so much unskied snow, especially while watching Mark head for more as my tongue was dragging me toward the car.
Did I mention it was cold? The day's accumulation:
Honesty compels me to admit that I had a bit of trouble keeping up with this trio of AT skiers, who always seemed to be waiting patiently for me far below.
Mark, how is that possible, I remember a time last summer, at Mt Adams, when Ron and I had a three hour head start, you came running up the hill, over snow, in those super fast tennis shoes of yours while almost passing us, but you did stop and chat for a moment ;D and then took off again, making it to the top of the false summit pitch and even built a sitting bench out of rocks before we made it up there.
Tim, it was a great day all the way around, we had the same conditions at Crystal, stable at any angle you chose. 8)
Mark: I was drooling at those on the skin track yesterday; must have been including yourself. I was escorting my company's (Ski-Attle) first-ever bus of teenagers to the frozen Baker hinterlands. My fellow chaperone, Ian, even suggested that we head your way. I told him that it'd probably be bad policy to tell the kids, "No O.B.", and then take off all day to do it ourselves. I hope to catch up with you again, maybe in the spring...Greg Lange
Reply to this TR
Please login first: