December 26, Cameron Pass, Colorado
12/15/09
US elsewhere
1874
1
Day 13
Cameron Pass, Colorado
12.26.09
The drive, as is far too usual, was the cruxy part.
5:30 am Saturday morning, the snow from Thursdays storm had been pushed around mercilessly by the 70 MPH winds so even though it hadnt snowed in 24 hours, the roads were a mess. I took back roads from the house north to the edge of Fort Collins finding icy, snowy patches everywhere. Just past town, ½ mile from rt. 287, I see a white whale across the road. Blowing snow from the valley to the west continues to add to the pile: a hum dinger of a snowdrift. Churn marks from prior travelers tells me this one is bad. I scope my line, check my speed, and then gear down and plow! Ram right into the thing.
All four wheels come off the ground and Im plowing forward through the drift, momentum providing the forward motion. My speed was bleeding out fast, which was thankful as my trajectory was into a ditch on the edge of the road, but I could see the edge of the deep snow of the drift coming fast. I steer into the slide, drop into second gear, and gun it - wheels churning snow as I exit the drift moving once again. Back onto plowed road, I eek my way around two more drifts using the empty south bound lanes. Phew.
Entering Poudre Canyon, the wind dies quickly, replaced by black ice and snow covered roads. Only 45 miles to go.
***
There was too much snow.
Mmmmm. No. Scratch that. When is there too much snow?
Lets break this down¦
Just as I reach the summit of the pass, a snowplow goes past going the other way, proof that the nice travel lane I was driving was only minutes young. There is a nice snow bank from the overnight plows guarding the entrance to the parking lot, and I cant tell how much snow has fallen overnight and what it will be like to try and park. I scan both ways down the highway, back up, and then ram the snow bank, gun it, and go careening around the loop, parking at my favorite spot next to the trail start. The new snow is as high as my wheel wells. Wow. How is this possible when only a couple of inches was supposed to fall in the last couple days?
A little over 2 hours after leaving the house, its 5 degrees and a hazy, gray sky spits random flakes along with a gusty northwest wind. It is not a pleasant ski day.
I am in no rush. I finish some Christmas chocolate (I go through a whole box of chocolate covered cherries and a slab of a Cadbury bar on this trip. I love Christmas!) I had the short board with me (oops), habit I guess, in this still-too-early-to-be-anything-but-early-season-skiing mood, having tuned up the board the night before (double oops - more on that in a minute). I strap it on the pack and begin the walk up into the trees.
For the past couple of days Ive been going through my laundry list. Tics to hit, mountains to climb, ski slopes to poach, partners to partner with¦and it all looks bad. All my friends are scattered around the country, the avalanche danger is HIGH, and I dont have the time to drive. Bummer. But if there is a cure for early season blues, Cameron Pass is it. Usually.
Sean and I had hit Cameron Pass a couple weeks back and found the snow decent boot deep fare with a 36 base. Just enough to hide the tree trunks. The storms of the last week were kind to Cameron, but not excessive, maybe providing another foot of snow. OK, looking good. Im getting excited. I scan the unplowed lot and watch a Suburban with a trailor of snowmobiles rumble past on the road. Let the games begin.
I follow the main trail out to the gully, and then shoot straight up through the trees, finding faint glimpses of up-tracks from days past, and in the deep forest I find the main track. Nice. I make quick work and arrive at the flat shoulder after an hour of trail breaking. The headwall above looked wind-scoured and dangerous and I can see the tell-tale signs of wind blasting over the ridge and over my head. The alpine looks horrendous. The nightmare-inducing depth hoar will be a repeat horror show until spring Im afraid.
I throw the board down and skulk off into the trees...Or try to.
Scrunch, scrunch, scrunch is the sound my snowboard makes as it planes down into the snow. I push back and forth and the nose dives down further under the bridging upper pack and down into the sugar snow underneath. Rat farts. I push the snow off my board and front roll (a trick I learned in deep snow) to unstuck the board. I stand up and try again. Scrunch, scrunch, scrunch with little effect - and back down under the snowpack. Double rat farts.
I take the board off and look to see if there is a wet spot or some shenanigans keeping the board from running clean. There isnt.
Then it hits me. I waxed the board last night. With pink wax not blue wax. Pink is for warm, blue is for cold. What an idiot.
I try and shuffle over to a steeper section of the woods and thankfully with a little speed am able to float the board above the worst of the pack.
The irony! Too dangerous to ski anything steep and the board isnt tuned well enough for anything flat. Its times like these that a lesser man would call it a day.
I ski back to my car and find salvation in a song and a warm-me-up cup of coffee and chocolate. Heck, I could do this all day!
I go out for my second run. Still the only car in the parking lot.
Following the third run, I find that staying on the down track is the ticket to negotiate the worst of the snow, but by that point Im done.
After all, two more cars are in the lot. Its noon. Its "crowded". My snowboard needs a cold wax.
And Im all out of chocolate.
Cameron Pass, Colorado
12.26.09
The drive, as is far too usual, was the cruxy part.
5:30 am Saturday morning, the snow from Thursdays storm had been pushed around mercilessly by the 70 MPH winds so even though it hadnt snowed in 24 hours, the roads were a mess. I took back roads from the house north to the edge of Fort Collins finding icy, snowy patches everywhere. Just past town, ½ mile from rt. 287, I see a white whale across the road. Blowing snow from the valley to the west continues to add to the pile: a hum dinger of a snowdrift. Churn marks from prior travelers tells me this one is bad. I scope my line, check my speed, and then gear down and plow! Ram right into the thing.
All four wheels come off the ground and Im plowing forward through the drift, momentum providing the forward motion. My speed was bleeding out fast, which was thankful as my trajectory was into a ditch on the edge of the road, but I could see the edge of the deep snow of the drift coming fast. I steer into the slide, drop into second gear, and gun it - wheels churning snow as I exit the drift moving once again. Back onto plowed road, I eek my way around two more drifts using the empty south bound lanes. Phew.
Entering Poudre Canyon, the wind dies quickly, replaced by black ice and snow covered roads. Only 45 miles to go.
***
There was too much snow.
Mmmmm. No. Scratch that. When is there too much snow?
Lets break this down¦
Just as I reach the summit of the pass, a snowplow goes past going the other way, proof that the nice travel lane I was driving was only minutes young. There is a nice snow bank from the overnight plows guarding the entrance to the parking lot, and I cant tell how much snow has fallen overnight and what it will be like to try and park. I scan both ways down the highway, back up, and then ram the snow bank, gun it, and go careening around the loop, parking at my favorite spot next to the trail start. The new snow is as high as my wheel wells. Wow. How is this possible when only a couple of inches was supposed to fall in the last couple days?
A little over 2 hours after leaving the house, its 5 degrees and a hazy, gray sky spits random flakes along with a gusty northwest wind. It is not a pleasant ski day.
I am in no rush. I finish some Christmas chocolate (I go through a whole box of chocolate covered cherries and a slab of a Cadbury bar on this trip. I love Christmas!) I had the short board with me (oops), habit I guess, in this still-too-early-to-be-anything-but-early-season-skiing mood, having tuned up the board the night before (double oops - more on that in a minute). I strap it on the pack and begin the walk up into the trees.
For the past couple of days Ive been going through my laundry list. Tics to hit, mountains to climb, ski slopes to poach, partners to partner with¦and it all looks bad. All my friends are scattered around the country, the avalanche danger is HIGH, and I dont have the time to drive. Bummer. But if there is a cure for early season blues, Cameron Pass is it. Usually.
Sean and I had hit Cameron Pass a couple weeks back and found the snow decent boot deep fare with a 36 base. Just enough to hide the tree trunks. The storms of the last week were kind to Cameron, but not excessive, maybe providing another foot of snow. OK, looking good. Im getting excited. I scan the unplowed lot and watch a Suburban with a trailor of snowmobiles rumble past on the road. Let the games begin.
I follow the main trail out to the gully, and then shoot straight up through the trees, finding faint glimpses of up-tracks from days past, and in the deep forest I find the main track. Nice. I make quick work and arrive at the flat shoulder after an hour of trail breaking. The headwall above looked wind-scoured and dangerous and I can see the tell-tale signs of wind blasting over the ridge and over my head. The alpine looks horrendous. The nightmare-inducing depth hoar will be a repeat horror show until spring Im afraid.
I throw the board down and skulk off into the trees...Or try to.
Scrunch, scrunch, scrunch is the sound my snowboard makes as it planes down into the snow. I push back and forth and the nose dives down further under the bridging upper pack and down into the sugar snow underneath. Rat farts. I push the snow off my board and front roll (a trick I learned in deep snow) to unstuck the board. I stand up and try again. Scrunch, scrunch, scrunch with little effect - and back down under the snowpack. Double rat farts.
I take the board off and look to see if there is a wet spot or some shenanigans keeping the board from running clean. There isnt.
Then it hits me. I waxed the board last night. With pink wax not blue wax. Pink is for warm, blue is for cold. What an idiot.
I try and shuffle over to a steeper section of the woods and thankfully with a little speed am able to float the board above the worst of the pack.
The irony! Too dangerous to ski anything steep and the board isnt tuned well enough for anything flat. Its times like these that a lesser man would call it a day.
I ski back to my car and find salvation in a song and a warm-me-up cup of coffee and chocolate. Heck, I could do this all day!
I go out for my second run. Still the only car in the parking lot.
Following the third run, I find that staying on the down track is the ticket to negotiate the worst of the snow, but by that point Im done.
After all, two more cars are in the lot. Its noon. Its "crowded". My snowboard needs a cold wax.
And Im all out of chocolate.
Thanks Mike, I needed another reason to not bother with waxing. We'll send Sean back to you soon. Unfortunately I couldn't make it out for a second tour with him, work, etc. No pix?
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