June 19, 2005, Table/Coleman Rock Shark Attack
6/19/05
WA Cascades West Slopes North (Mt Baker)
4829
7
I decided to make use of the good weather by heading up to the Baker ski area. I walked the road to Artist Point (almost completely plowed) and headed to the top of Table. I skied the only remaining line off the North side of Table (probably the last weekend this is possible)...the fats handled the moist snow with ease. I was in for a good day...or so I thought!!!
I then skinned up Interglacier so I could access the snowslopes out towards Coleman Pinnacle. I left my skins on as a descended towards the pass. As I gained speed a vaguely familar sound was present...a sound that sends chills of fear in the mightiest of men...The JAWS soundtrack!
And that's when it happened...in a blink of an eye the Rock Shark was under me...there was nothing I could do...it was too late. I tried to avoid him, but his sun-bleached fin was well hidden in the snow. It was a massive collision!
HHHRRRAAAAPPPHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!
Fortunately, I had enough speed to keep moving out of the attack zone...but my injured right ski now flopped lifelessly at my side. Relief set in now that the attack was over...but I felt sick just thinking about the possible damage...a core shot? a blown edge? no, NO, NOOOOO!!! The echo could be heard across the valley...later I was told they could hear me in Bellingham.
I stopped on a flat, deep snowpatch where I knew Rock Sharks would not live. I unclipped the binding to my new Rossignol B3 and carefully turned it over. My skin lay lifeless on the ski...the Rock Shark had ripped it almost in two! Only a small thread now held it together...this would definitely require stitches. But the skin had taken the brunt of the damage and my edges and base were in perfect condition.
Has anyone ever stitched their skin back together??? Seriously!?!?!?
I saw Tim on the way out.
I then skinned up Interglacier so I could access the snowslopes out towards Coleman Pinnacle. I left my skins on as a descended towards the pass. As I gained speed a vaguely familar sound was present...a sound that sends chills of fear in the mightiest of men...The JAWS soundtrack!
And that's when it happened...in a blink of an eye the Rock Shark was under me...there was nothing I could do...it was too late. I tried to avoid him, but his sun-bleached fin was well hidden in the snow. It was a massive collision!
HHHRRRAAAAPPPHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!
Fortunately, I had enough speed to keep moving out of the attack zone...but my injured right ski now flopped lifelessly at my side. Relief set in now that the attack was over...but I felt sick just thinking about the possible damage...a core shot? a blown edge? no, NO, NOOOOO!!! The echo could be heard across the valley...later I was told they could hear me in Bellingham.
I stopped on a flat, deep snowpatch where I knew Rock Sharks would not live. I unclipped the binding to my new Rossignol B3 and carefully turned it over. My skin lay lifeless on the ski...the Rock Shark had ripped it almost in two! Only a small thread now held it together...this would definitely require stitches. But the skin had taken the brunt of the damage and my edges and base were in perfect condition.
Has anyone ever stitched their skin back together??? Seriously!?!?!?
I saw Tim on the way out.
Good to see you out there, Matt. More than just Rock Sharks were out there snapping at us.
I left home at about 4:30, headed for another day on the Roman Wall. When I got to Glacier, I could not see Mt. Baker. Having a firm aversion to skiing mountains I cannot see, I turned to plan B, Ptarmigan Ridge.
By 10:30 I was perched on the ridge just past the last of the three peaks of the Coleman Pinnacle group. The Saturday rain had fallen as snow out here. I had skinned through 3 inches of fine slop in the bottom of the basin, which turned into 6 inches; of smooth, wet slop on top. There had been one slushy slide off of the goat track I followed on the way up (thinking that goats are probably as intelligent as I). I was wondering if my arrival was early enough to hold this wet mass in place long enough for me to ski it. If I just kept them pointed down hill, I could probably outrun a slushy, right?
The slope below me had about 50 feet of 40 degree slope, leveled off to a 30 degree bench for a hundred feet, and then rolled to 40 degrees for about 600 feet. Since there was enough wet snow to get my attention, I swooped a cut down to the 30 degree bench. Behind me I heard not a whisper, but a WHOOOSH!! It sounded more like a 747 taking off than snow snakes. Everything I had cut was sliding and tumbling down across the shallow bench, and over the roll. Immediately a wave of fast moving slush appeared at the bottom. The weight of the stuff I had kicked loose liquified the entire slope below the roll.
I considered skiing out the slide path, but a few pole pokes indicated that there were still funky layers lurking in there. Besides, I was feeling very small, and very alone. I delicately took my skis off and tip-toed up the fall line to the ridge top, from where I skied the goat track back down (knowing that goats are definitely more intelligent than I).
On the way back, I traversed high onto Ptarmigan Peak in order to refresh my lines from last week on the North Face. Below me a gaggle of retro grouches slogged toward Coleman Pinnacle on their long skis, knickers, and kick wax. Someone called someone else Barnett, so I am guessing that this was SB and his posse. Come to think of it, given the Harfian hour of their arrival, I suspect Mark might have been passing below me, if Mark still does retro. Anyway, these are the first skiers I had seen out past Ptarmigan Peak in the last four weeks of skiing this area. There is still much good snow to be had, and I suspect that my slidey mush layer will be corn in a day of two. The lines down into Wells Creek off early Ptarmigan Ridge, before the Coleman Pinnacle, still hold adequate snow, and have a better quality corn than the newer stuff farther out. Sun cups are not yet a factor in this area.
I left home at about 4:30, headed for another day on the Roman Wall. When I got to Glacier, I could not see Mt. Baker. Having a firm aversion to skiing mountains I cannot see, I turned to plan B, Ptarmigan Ridge.
By 10:30 I was perched on the ridge just past the last of the three peaks of the Coleman Pinnacle group. The Saturday rain had fallen as snow out here. I had skinned through 3 inches of fine slop in the bottom of the basin, which turned into 6 inches; of smooth, wet slop on top. There had been one slushy slide off of the goat track I followed on the way up (thinking that goats are probably as intelligent as I). I was wondering if my arrival was early enough to hold this wet mass in place long enough for me to ski it. If I just kept them pointed down hill, I could probably outrun a slushy, right?
The slope below me had about 50 feet of 40 degree slope, leveled off to a 30 degree bench for a hundred feet, and then rolled to 40 degrees for about 600 feet. Since there was enough wet snow to get my attention, I swooped a cut down to the 30 degree bench. Behind me I heard not a whisper, but a WHOOOSH!! It sounded more like a 747 taking off than snow snakes. Everything I had cut was sliding and tumbling down across the shallow bench, and over the roll. Immediately a wave of fast moving slush appeared at the bottom. The weight of the stuff I had kicked loose liquified the entire slope below the roll.
I considered skiing out the slide path, but a few pole pokes indicated that there were still funky layers lurking in there. Besides, I was feeling very small, and very alone. I delicately took my skis off and tip-toed up the fall line to the ridge top, from where I skied the goat track back down (knowing that goats are definitely more intelligent than I).
On the way back, I traversed high onto Ptarmigan Peak in order to refresh my lines from last week on the North Face. Below me a gaggle of retro grouches slogged toward Coleman Pinnacle on their long skis, knickers, and kick wax. Someone called someone else Barnett, so I am guessing that this was SB and his posse. Come to think of it, given the Harfian hour of their arrival, I suspect Mark might have been passing below me, if Mark still does retro. Anyway, these are the first skiers I had seen out past Ptarmigan Peak in the last four weeks of skiing this area. There is still much good snow to be had, and I suspect that my slidey mush layer will be corn in a day of two. The lines down into Wells Creek off early Ptarmigan Ridge, before the Coleman Pinnacle, still hold adequate snow, and have a better quality corn than the newer stuff farther out. Sun cups are not yet a factor in this area.
given the Harfian hour of their arrival, I suspect Mark might have been passing below me, if Mark still does retro.
As it happens, Mark hadn't even started skiing when retro was the style. I believe you might've witnessed Father Charles and acolytes sb and Todd on a late-day pilgrimage to The Portals, from whence all that is good and just in the world originates. Or something. We started only slightly earlier on the Squak, skinning to 8500 feet in hot sun but turning back just after passing the spot where an earlier skier had broken through a thin snowbridge in the usual place. A succession of varying densities of slush, slush over breakable crust and slushy-but-pretty-good-corn made our descent fun (skiable to 5000 feet without particular trouble). The risk of wet slides was much on my mind, but not particularly a problem on such mellow terrain.
One word of caution: shoes are preferable to flip flops for the approach hike, particularly on the mud, snow and streambed portions. Don't ask how I, an avowed empiricist, arrived at this conclusion.
Yes, that was us that Tim saw, from his high perch above us, avoiding risk of retro-contamination I suppose. And yes, even though Mark refused to join us, we still honored him with an appropriate start time. Right about where Tim was peering down at us we came across Brenda and Mike, on a discovery tour of Ptarmigan Ridge (their first visit).
We were too lazy to go all the way out to the Portals, and having too much fun just skiing up and skiing down with no skin hassles on our retro gear, and we stopped at the saddle past Coleman Pinnacle. Todd was so retro that he didn't even use wax on his truly skinny non-waxless skis, and could still climb just about everything that we waxless skiers could. He mumbled something about "suction" but I didn't really understand.
Tim characterized the snow well - above about 5500 feet the new snow layer deepened quickly and slid readily. After some study of Tim's tracks and the slides, it sounds like we did a pretty good job of figuring out what had occurred.
Here's an overview photo of the north side of Ptarmigan Ridge from near Table Mountain:
We were too lazy to go all the way out to the Portals, and having too much fun just skiing up and skiing down with no skin hassles on our retro gear, and we stopped at the saddle past Coleman Pinnacle. Todd was so retro that he didn't even use wax on his truly skinny non-waxless skis, and could still climb just about everything that we waxless skiers could. He mumbled something about "suction" but I didn't really understand.
Tim characterized the snow well - above about 5500 feet the new snow layer deepened quickly and slid readily. After some study of Tim's tracks and the slides, it sounds like we did a pretty good job of figuring out what had occurred.
Here's an overview photo of the north side of Ptarmigan Ridge from near Table Mountain:
Tod didn't just keep up - he was usually either ahead or far ahead.
I've stiched my skins together. I bought a new pair of skis and the old skins were too short and I still had the left over pieces. I took some thread and stitched it together, then duck tape over the top (stitched in). More over that ;D, but you can't do that in the middle. I would just stitch it. I once ripped a pair in half, taking them apart ???
After watching Charles and Co. ski off deeper into what was for us uncharted territory, Brenda and I decided that the slopes just before Coleman Pinnacle were fine. Great lines and great snow – none of the sticky, rotten stuff we’ve been skiing down south this spring. We skied out by way of the remaining snow below the Ptarmagin Ridge trail along Table Mt. The scramble up the bare loose slopes to the trail was a bit of a chore - it didn't look that far down on the way in, hiking the trail probably would have been faster but that's no fun. We looked for that elusive line down to Bagley Lake, but if it was there it's beyond my skill level. Great day. Gotta spend more time up there.
Thanks Jason, I may try to stitch them together with floss or some strong thread...hopefully they stay together when I pull them apart...these BD skins are tough to seperate when its cold...Cheers...
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