June 22-25, 2005, Bonanza Peak
6/22/05
40268
48
Avoir la curiosité toujours, d'aller là où les autres ne vont pas.
C'est le moteur le plus puissant d'une vie de skieur.
-Dominique Perret, Lignes de Pente
The Northwest Buttress of Bonanza Peak is a very natural line for a ski descent. The top section offers open snowfields that roll delightfully toward large cliffs perched above the Company Glacier, connected by a series of short traverses. The aggressive skier can find enough steeps and exposure to satisfy a powerful penchant for adrenaline, while the more conservative skier can avoid the exposure except in a few choice spots. Below the bergschrund more rolling slopes decorate their declivities with rocky ridges to the sides and an icefall toward the bottom. The significant Company Glacier awaits to finish the descent, which sits at the remote head of the pristine Company Creek valley.
Bonanza Peak is the highest nonvolcanic peak in Washington. At 9,511' it is the queen of the niners in height. Not having heard of any previous ski descents of Bonanza, the possibility of skiing it naturally sounded intiguing. The biggest problem is getting there. Barring a hike on the order of 30 miles in one direction, a long boat ride up 55-mile Lake Chelan followed by 12 miles of bus to the old mining town of Holden is the method of approach. Given the limited daily boat and bus schedules, it's not feasible to make an attempt on Bonanza in less than three days.
Others certainly had an interest before me, but I became obsessed enough to make it a primary objective once I considered the apparent classic quality of the line, in addition to the lure of another niner. With a forecast for two days of good weather in the midst of the long, gray spring, and a very long list of fellow enthusiasts to tempt, I found three other people who managed to set aside four days. The boat and bus rides could be done on the end days in which the forecast was questionable, leaving two days of hopefully good weather for us to climb and ski the route.
Paul Belitz, Dave Coleman, Phil Fortier and I drove to the Field's Point Landing up the lake from Chelan on a Wednesday morning. The weather was gray and drizzly driving over Stevens Pass. The skied were clear and blue past Leavenworth, though. During the two-hour boat ride I was very impressed with the wonder of Lake Chelan. This natural lake is 55 miles in length, and the bottom of the lake is nearly four hundred feet below sea level at its deepest point, where it is more than 1,300 feet deep. It trends northwest from Chelan, where the climate is dry, to Stehekin where the scenery, vegetation and climate are quite different. The upper portions of the lake penetrate deep into the North Cascades, where impressive peaks tower 7,000 feet above its shores.
Lucerne was once a point where the Copper from the Holden mines was loaded onto barges headed for Chelan. Now Holden is a Lutheran retreat, and Lucerne is a transfer point for tourists and goods going to the village. Holden is accessible throughout the winter and people do ski there. I have heard it was once a popular destination for telemarkers. Based on our interactions during the trip, I would guess not too many skiers have been seen there in June. I could hardly contain my excitement on the bus to Holden. Copper Mountain and Dumbbell tower above the valley.
We enjoyed a quaint lunch in Holden consisting of peanut soup, fresh whole wheat bread, and salad. The announcements were entertaining. It was tempting to stay in the village for 'lighthearted but competitive' basketball and the festivities of LGBTQ (Lesbian-Gay-Bisexual-Transgender-?) Pride week, but we intended to hike to Holden Lake regardless of the somewhat ominous skies. There were plenty blue patches between the clouds though, and it was nice to carry our heavy packs in comfortably cool temperatures. I was quite pleased with the weight of my four-day pack, which was approximately 60 pounds. Now that I'm using Dynafit for both boots and bindings, my complete ski, boot, and binding setup is only costing me about 15 pounds. I'm not sure about the others' pack totals, but I'm pretty sure my ski setup was the lightest.
Five miles and two thousand feet led to Holden Lake. Bonanza Peak was in and out of the clouds above the Mary Green Glacier. After a short break we began the climb to Holden Pass. At nearly 6,400' the pass put us in the clouds and drizzle. We changed to skis and boots for a short descent to a small basin above the head of Sable Creek. I was ecstatic to bag 600 feet of skiing on our first day. The hope for multiple objectives and a big head start on the route could have driven us to further traverse the mountain before camping, but the weather had taken a bad turn and we settled next to the shelter of a large, overhanging boulder in the cool mist. After some precursory eating I crawled into my bivy sack for shelter and quickly fell asleep. When the cold air finally woke me I was relieved to see clear skies as I crawled into my sleeping bag and shut my eyes again.
Phil played alarm clock Thursday morning. The weather was perfect; not a cloud besmirched the sky. We left camp about five, commencing with a descending traverse of the Sable Creek drainage. A talus field and some brush led to a climb through the forest. A short scramble and a meadow followed before we reached a ridge. From the ridge we dropped down a steep, rocky gully and frozen snow. More talus, more snow, and the crossing of another steep gully put us on snow and slabs below the Company Glacier. A short 4th class downclimb put us on a tongue of snow that followed a stream just below the glacier. From a topo, I guess that we were near 5,800 feet. We had only traveled about two miles from camp, but four hours had expired. In retrospect we could have avoided the 4th class section, but it did get us to the lowest continuously skiable snow.
The glacier didn't present any problems. Phil wanted to use the rope. I didn't have any really good reason not to use the rope, so we tied together after I convinced him to join me where I was on the glacier. Paul and Dave took the same course of action as I began following Phil. The snow was firm enough to make the traverse go quickly.
There was a beautfiul depression and ramp in the icefall just on the other side of the rock buttress. I took the lead up the snow and through the icefall. Above the bergschrund we untied. The following slope was beautifully-sustained steep snow above the cliffs that line the bottom of the buttress. The snow was firm enough for good steps. It was also soft enough that it would obviously be first-rate corn in time for the descent.
The slope eventually reached the ridge and a bit of a shelf. Phil offered to kick some steps. I took a break and waited to see Paul and Dave near the top of the slope. Two more beautiful rolls and I rejoined Phil on the ridge. The north-facing slopes broke into rock. We crossed the ridge onto west-facing slopes. I wanted to climb an icy bulge that offered continuous frozen slopes to the west peak. Phil headed for the rock before the bottom of the steep section. Several steps into front-pointing my way up the 60-degree ice bulge, I looked down and noticed my right crampon strap had come loose. I felt like a small boat crossing the narrows of Lake Chelan, caught off-guard by a fierce wind storm coming off the peaks. I had no shelter until I got off the steep slopes (out of the straight to the next protective bay), so I kicked my steps carefully and watched the right crampon (minded the sails and hurried to port). The views are very airy and impressive from the 9,400'+ elevation West Peak of Bonanza.
Style is a funny thing. I had a bit of dialogue between Phil and my safety-conscious self, my safety-conscious-self and my style-conscious self, and my style-conscious self and Phil. Finally Paul arrived and I had a word or two with him, too. Neither Paul nor Phil had brought their skis to the summit. I had, and I liked the continuous frozen surface from the top. The icy, 60-degree bulge above an unknown drop to the west was quite intimidating. But it was also getting lots of early afternoon sun. I generally think roped skiing is silly. But for the addition of both a summit and continuous skiing thereafter, I thought skiing the top section on rappel seemed reasonable. But I also knew the crux section was softening and I had a strong conviction I could ski it. Phil was quite tolerant of my whimsy, along with my ample French solecisms throughout the trip. On va tuer! Je vais tuer la montagne tout de suite!
Dave stopped about twenty vertical feet below the summit. Paul and Phil began downclimbing the rock. I finally convinced myself of my skiing abilities, stowed the rope, and clicked into my skis with an ax in one hand and a pole in the other. I found soft snow on the southwest side of a rib next to the steep, icy bulge. I made a turn in the soft snow, then I sideslipped and sidestepped a little. Next I crossed the rib onto the icier snow of its northwest-facing side. It felt all right and I made two jump turns on the steep snow between the bulge and where the rib gave way to rock. Finally I had to traverse the icy bulge. I pointed my skis down the fall line enough so I wouldn't skid and found myself on forty-degree corn in no time. I was able to make a couple turns and traverse to the buttress. I sure felt great about skiing off the top. It felt like a very strong affirmation for the ski-what-you-climb principle; my knowledge of the steep, icy section lead to my serious consideration of not skiing it, my final decision to ski it, and my extreme caution in skiing it.
We all skied from the ridge that tops the buttress. Dave, Paul, and Phil took awhile to downclimb, don skis, and reach me. I was standing on the ridge in my skis, feeling much too smug, and enjoying the views. Phil said he wished he had skied instead of downclimbed. I guess he didn't enjoy downclimbing chossy rock with big exposure.
The steep slopes from the top of the buttress are somewhat reminiscent of the upper part of the North Face of Mt Shuksan. I traversed a rocky section to get to an open, 45-degree face perched above cliffs leading to oblivion and bergschrunds beyond. I cranked five jump turns and traversed toward the ridge. Paul sidestepped narrow 50-degree snow between rocks to avoid making an exposed turn. Phil and Dave both tried the traverse-and-turn approach.
The corn was roasted to perfection on the largest slope of the buttress. An amazing feature of the buttress was the way the traverses linking the steep slopes made the levitating-above-the-glacier feeling permeate the whole route. Usually this feeling can only last through a small fraction of a route. It was truly exceptional the way the upper portion of this route offered the enhanced flying visuals again and again. I will give Ross credit for anticipating this beforehand. Too bad he couldn't come with us. On another note Ross, I think the Company Glacier Headwall could fit the bill in a good year. (Insert evil laugh here.)
By the time we reached our tennis shoes below the glacier, I had skied 3,600 vertical feet continuously off the summit; the others had skied 3,500 or more. The snow quality was superb throughout the descent. Not bad for late June in a poor snow year. I can only imagine how nice this descent could be in a normal year, with the traverse around the mountain on snow instead of brush and talus. We were in no hurry on the return to camp. It was five in the evening, but it doesn't get dark until ten this time of year. I love June at 48 degrees latitude.
Phil wanted to take a high route to avoid brush on the return to camp. I passed on polemics despite pangs of doubt. All went well until we were 100 feet above the basin and camp. Below us were cliffs and seriously daunting patches of vine maples. There may have been a way, but we weren't sure where to find it so we redoubled to the high meadows whence we came. We never came to a conclusion who was right. Phil thought he spied a good way from next to camp. I generally like to stick to the evil I know, extending ski-what-you-climb to descend-what-you-climb. Maybe we're both right and we can all have our own savoir faire.
The extensive traversing approach prevented us from returning to utilize Friday to the fullest. Even Martin Peak's proximity couldn't lure us away from our repose; it didn't look very good compared to the ample snowpack of the pictures in the Beckey guide. I had lots of rum. We lounged in the sun at camp. Every so often we'd take a lap on the 500-footish snow finger across from camp. Then it was time for another shot of rum, more food, and perhaps a nap. In the afternoon, after several laps, the clouds built and it got cool. We decided to carry camp over Holden Pass to reduce our exit to Holden to an exclusively downhill hike.
A few showers in the afternoon made us very glad to have skied Thursday. Our first encounter with people, post descent, involved climbers approaching the Mary Green Glacier. We had poached the best camp below the pass, and they camped somewhere above us. Sorry if we talked too loudly and the coprophagic stench of our wilderness breath reached you, climbers; I was feeling awfully high from hitting the weather so perfectly. The showers weren't too persistent and we had a pleasant night of camping. Hopefully the climbers got their summit. Despite Paul's incessant Beta-Lite boasts, I never felt regret for my bivy.
Bonanza est morte. Actually, she still has plenty rich veins of white ore to mine, and her riches are far from fully exploited. She will always be a jewel of the North Cascades. Such a mountain imparts a certain joie de vivre. Thanks everyone for a great time. All apologies to the desk jockeys. Don't worry; it'll be there next year too.
C'est le moteur le plus puissant d'une vie de skieur.
-Dominique Perret, Lignes de Pente
The Northwest Buttress of Bonanza Peak is a very natural line for a ski descent. The top section offers open snowfields that roll delightfully toward large cliffs perched above the Company Glacier, connected by a series of short traverses. The aggressive skier can find enough steeps and exposure to satisfy a powerful penchant for adrenaline, while the more conservative skier can avoid the exposure except in a few choice spots. Below the bergschrund more rolling slopes decorate their declivities with rocky ridges to the sides and an icefall toward the bottom. The significant Company Glacier awaits to finish the descent, which sits at the remote head of the pristine Company Creek valley.
Bonanza Peak is the highest nonvolcanic peak in Washington. At 9,511' it is the queen of the niners in height. Not having heard of any previous ski descents of Bonanza, the possibility of skiing it naturally sounded intiguing. The biggest problem is getting there. Barring a hike on the order of 30 miles in one direction, a long boat ride up 55-mile Lake Chelan followed by 12 miles of bus to the old mining town of Holden is the method of approach. Given the limited daily boat and bus schedules, it's not feasible to make an attempt on Bonanza in less than three days.
Others certainly had an interest before me, but I became obsessed enough to make it a primary objective once I considered the apparent classic quality of the line, in addition to the lure of another niner. With a forecast for two days of good weather in the midst of the long, gray spring, and a very long list of fellow enthusiasts to tempt, I found three other people who managed to set aside four days. The boat and bus rides could be done on the end days in which the forecast was questionable, leaving two days of hopefully good weather for us to climb and ski the route.
Paul Belitz, Dave Coleman, Phil Fortier and I drove to the Field's Point Landing up the lake from Chelan on a Wednesday morning. The weather was gray and drizzly driving over Stevens Pass. The skied were clear and blue past Leavenworth, though. During the two-hour boat ride I was very impressed with the wonder of Lake Chelan. This natural lake is 55 miles in length, and the bottom of the lake is nearly four hundred feet below sea level at its deepest point, where it is more than 1,300 feet deep. It trends northwest from Chelan, where the climate is dry, to Stehekin where the scenery, vegetation and climate are quite different. The upper portions of the lake penetrate deep into the North Cascades, where impressive peaks tower 7,000 feet above its shores.
Lucerne was once a point where the Copper from the Holden mines was loaded onto barges headed for Chelan. Now Holden is a Lutheran retreat, and Lucerne is a transfer point for tourists and goods going to the village. Holden is accessible throughout the winter and people do ski there. I have heard it was once a popular destination for telemarkers. Based on our interactions during the trip, I would guess not too many skiers have been seen there in June. I could hardly contain my excitement on the bus to Holden. Copper Mountain and Dumbbell tower above the valley.
We enjoyed a quaint lunch in Holden consisting of peanut soup, fresh whole wheat bread, and salad. The announcements were entertaining. It was tempting to stay in the village for 'lighthearted but competitive' basketball and the festivities of LGBTQ (Lesbian-Gay-Bisexual-Transgender-?) Pride week, but we intended to hike to Holden Lake regardless of the somewhat ominous skies. There were plenty blue patches between the clouds though, and it was nice to carry our heavy packs in comfortably cool temperatures. I was quite pleased with the weight of my four-day pack, which was approximately 60 pounds. Now that I'm using Dynafit for both boots and bindings, my complete ski, boot, and binding setup is only costing me about 15 pounds. I'm not sure about the others' pack totals, but I'm pretty sure my ski setup was the lightest.
Five miles and two thousand feet led to Holden Lake. Bonanza Peak was in and out of the clouds above the Mary Green Glacier. After a short break we began the climb to Holden Pass. At nearly 6,400' the pass put us in the clouds and drizzle. We changed to skis and boots for a short descent to a small basin above the head of Sable Creek. I was ecstatic to bag 600 feet of skiing on our first day. The hope for multiple objectives and a big head start on the route could have driven us to further traverse the mountain before camping, but the weather had taken a bad turn and we settled next to the shelter of a large, overhanging boulder in the cool mist. After some precursory eating I crawled into my bivy sack for shelter and quickly fell asleep. When the cold air finally woke me I was relieved to see clear skies as I crawled into my sleeping bag and shut my eyes again.
Phil played alarm clock Thursday morning. The weather was perfect; not a cloud besmirched the sky. We left camp about five, commencing with a descending traverse of the Sable Creek drainage. A talus field and some brush led to a climb through the forest. A short scramble and a meadow followed before we reached a ridge. From the ridge we dropped down a steep, rocky gully and frozen snow. More talus, more snow, and the crossing of another steep gully put us on snow and slabs below the Company Glacier. A short 4th class downclimb put us on a tongue of snow that followed a stream just below the glacier. From a topo, I guess that we were near 5,800 feet. We had only traveled about two miles from camp, but four hours had expired. In retrospect we could have avoided the 4th class section, but it did get us to the lowest continuously skiable snow.
The glacier didn't present any problems. Phil wanted to use the rope. I didn't have any really good reason not to use the rope, so we tied together after I convinced him to join me where I was on the glacier. Paul and Dave took the same course of action as I began following Phil. The snow was firm enough to make the traverse go quickly.
There was a beautfiul depression and ramp in the icefall just on the other side of the rock buttress. I took the lead up the snow and through the icefall. Above the bergschrund we untied. The following slope was beautifully-sustained steep snow above the cliffs that line the bottom of the buttress. The snow was firm enough for good steps. It was also soft enough that it would obviously be first-rate corn in time for the descent.
The slope eventually reached the ridge and a bit of a shelf. Phil offered to kick some steps. I took a break and waited to see Paul and Dave near the top of the slope. Two more beautiful rolls and I rejoined Phil on the ridge. The north-facing slopes broke into rock. We crossed the ridge onto west-facing slopes. I wanted to climb an icy bulge that offered continuous frozen slopes to the west peak. Phil headed for the rock before the bottom of the steep section. Several steps into front-pointing my way up the 60-degree ice bulge, I looked down and noticed my right crampon strap had come loose. I felt like a small boat crossing the narrows of Lake Chelan, caught off-guard by a fierce wind storm coming off the peaks. I had no shelter until I got off the steep slopes (out of the straight to the next protective bay), so I kicked my steps carefully and watched the right crampon (minded the sails and hurried to port). The views are very airy and impressive from the 9,400'+ elevation West Peak of Bonanza.
Style is a funny thing. I had a bit of dialogue between Phil and my safety-conscious self, my safety-conscious-self and my style-conscious self, and my style-conscious self and Phil. Finally Paul arrived and I had a word or two with him, too. Neither Paul nor Phil had brought their skis to the summit. I had, and I liked the continuous frozen surface from the top. The icy, 60-degree bulge above an unknown drop to the west was quite intimidating. But it was also getting lots of early afternoon sun. I generally think roped skiing is silly. But for the addition of both a summit and continuous skiing thereafter, I thought skiing the top section on rappel seemed reasonable. But I also knew the crux section was softening and I had a strong conviction I could ski it. Phil was quite tolerant of my whimsy, along with my ample French solecisms throughout the trip. On va tuer! Je vais tuer la montagne tout de suite!
Dave stopped about twenty vertical feet below the summit. Paul and Phil began downclimbing the rock. I finally convinced myself of my skiing abilities, stowed the rope, and clicked into my skis with an ax in one hand and a pole in the other. I found soft snow on the southwest side of a rib next to the steep, icy bulge. I made a turn in the soft snow, then I sideslipped and sidestepped a little. Next I crossed the rib onto the icier snow of its northwest-facing side. It felt all right and I made two jump turns on the steep snow between the bulge and where the rib gave way to rock. Finally I had to traverse the icy bulge. I pointed my skis down the fall line enough so I wouldn't skid and found myself on forty-degree corn in no time. I was able to make a couple turns and traverse to the buttress. I sure felt great about skiing off the top. It felt like a very strong affirmation for the ski-what-you-climb principle; my knowledge of the steep, icy section lead to my serious consideration of not skiing it, my final decision to ski it, and my extreme caution in skiing it.
We all skied from the ridge that tops the buttress. Dave, Paul, and Phil took awhile to downclimb, don skis, and reach me. I was standing on the ridge in my skis, feeling much too smug, and enjoying the views. Phil said he wished he had skied instead of downclimbed. I guess he didn't enjoy downclimbing chossy rock with big exposure.
The steep slopes from the top of the buttress are somewhat reminiscent of the upper part of the North Face of Mt Shuksan. I traversed a rocky section to get to an open, 45-degree face perched above cliffs leading to oblivion and bergschrunds beyond. I cranked five jump turns and traversed toward the ridge. Paul sidestepped narrow 50-degree snow between rocks to avoid making an exposed turn. Phil and Dave both tried the traverse-and-turn approach.
The corn was roasted to perfection on the largest slope of the buttress. An amazing feature of the buttress was the way the traverses linking the steep slopes made the levitating-above-the-glacier feeling permeate the whole route. Usually this feeling can only last through a small fraction of a route. It was truly exceptional the way the upper portion of this route offered the enhanced flying visuals again and again. I will give Ross credit for anticipating this beforehand. Too bad he couldn't come with us. On another note Ross, I think the Company Glacier Headwall could fit the bill in a good year. (Insert evil laugh here.)
By the time we reached our tennis shoes below the glacier, I had skied 3,600 vertical feet continuously off the summit; the others had skied 3,500 or more. The snow quality was superb throughout the descent. Not bad for late June in a poor snow year. I can only imagine how nice this descent could be in a normal year, with the traverse around the mountain on snow instead of brush and talus. We were in no hurry on the return to camp. It was five in the evening, but it doesn't get dark until ten this time of year. I love June at 48 degrees latitude.
Phil wanted to take a high route to avoid brush on the return to camp. I passed on polemics despite pangs of doubt. All went well until we were 100 feet above the basin and camp. Below us were cliffs and seriously daunting patches of vine maples. There may have been a way, but we weren't sure where to find it so we redoubled to the high meadows whence we came. We never came to a conclusion who was right. Phil thought he spied a good way from next to camp. I generally like to stick to the evil I know, extending ski-what-you-climb to descend-what-you-climb. Maybe we're both right and we can all have our own savoir faire.
The extensive traversing approach prevented us from returning to utilize Friday to the fullest. Even Martin Peak's proximity couldn't lure us away from our repose; it didn't look very good compared to the ample snowpack of the pictures in the Beckey guide. I had lots of rum. We lounged in the sun at camp. Every so often we'd take a lap on the 500-footish snow finger across from camp. Then it was time for another shot of rum, more food, and perhaps a nap. In the afternoon, after several laps, the clouds built and it got cool. We decided to carry camp over Holden Pass to reduce our exit to Holden to an exclusively downhill hike.
A few showers in the afternoon made us very glad to have skied Thursday. Our first encounter with people, post descent, involved climbers approaching the Mary Green Glacier. We had poached the best camp below the pass, and they camped somewhere above us. Sorry if we talked too loudly and the coprophagic stench of our wilderness breath reached you, climbers; I was feeling awfully high from hitting the weather so perfectly. The showers weren't too persistent and we had a pleasant night of camping. Hopefully the climbers got their summit. Despite Paul's incessant Beta-Lite boasts, I never felt regret for my bivy.
Bonanza est morte. Actually, she still has plenty rich veins of white ore to mine, and her riches are far from fully exploited. She will always be a jewel of the North Cascades. Such a mountain imparts a certain joie de vivre. Thanks everyone for a great time. All apologies to the desk jockeys. Don't worry; it'll be there next year too.
Thanks for the note at the end Sky ;)
The most difficult part of being a desk jockey was knowing that you guys were up there skiing and the forecast over the weekend besmirked us none. This mid-week sun followed by forecasted bad weather is killing me. But, at least I can armchair ski-mountaineer with your TR and I'm sure soon to be added pictures.
The most difficult part of being a desk jockey was knowing that you guys were up there skiing and the forecast over the weekend besmirked us none. This mid-week sun followed by forecasted bad weather is killing me. But, at least I can armchair ski-mountaineer with your TR and I'm sure soon to be added pictures.
Great trip, guys, congrats on safely completing a very significant wilderness ski descent.
I know you wanted a light pack, Sky, but you shouldn't have to resort to eating THAT just to keep the weight down. I figured this trip wouldn't be my cup of tea, especially with the nasty traverse and downclimbing (and questionable food), I'm glad I went to Oregon instead.
I was quite pleased with the weight of my four-day pack, which was approximately 60 pounds. . .
and the coprophagic stench of our wilderness breath.
I know you wanted a light pack, Sky, but you shouldn't have to resort to eating THAT just to keep the weight down. I figured this trip wouldn't be my cup of tea, especially with the nasty traverse and downclimbing (and questionable food), I'm glad I went to Oregon instead.
The most difficult part of being a desk jockey was knowing that you guys were up there skiing and the forecast over the weekend besmirked us none.
And that just made it that much more special for us ;)
just kidding... oh wait, no I'm not. Sky and I discussed the clouds as we headed back over Stevens Pass on Saturday ("yeah, looks crappy - it's totally socked in over here - sweet!" "oh damn... there's some blue patches"), and we had been a little worried when we got your answering machine when we stopped in Entiat, and Sky placed a chestbeater call to your house. Our fears that you were out getting some were assuaged when we got Sam on the phone on the west side of the pass. 8)
I'll leave the big pic to someone who had a real camera, but here are some screengrabs:
Sky cranking one of the rolls on perfect snow - note the dual protection of sun hat + helmet.
The NW buttress from the approach
Dave turning through the icefall.
Sky poses with his tights, and admires my tent. That's right. Admires.
The route from the approach. Much is hidden behind the buttress.
Sky and Dave on the upper face. Right about here Sky and Phil started giggling like school girls. Dave and I managed to restrain ourselves.
Sky on the West Summit of Bonanza.
Sky and Phil climb below the seracs. There was some exposed glacial ice that was really fun to climb.
Rum and olives: the ideal alpine fuel.
Patches-all-year. Sky with a salute to Kam. Phil skied an even sillier line to the right...
I repeat the ceremony, spraying corn.
The Best Rock in the Universe.
The route from the approach. Much is hidden behind the buttress.
Sky and Dave on the upper face. Right about here Sky and Phil started giggling like school girls. Dave and I managed to restrain ourselves.
Sky on the West Summit of Bonanza.
Sky and Phil climb below the seracs. There was some exposed glacial ice that was really fun to climb.
Rum and olives: the ideal alpine fuel.
Patches-all-year. Sky with a salute to Kam. Phil skied an even sillier line to the right...
I repeat the ceremony, spraying corn.
The Best Rock in the Universe.
Thanks for the pictures, Paul and Phil.
I've asked another Paul of the peakbagger variety for permission to use a certain exquisite route photo from earlier this season. I'll post it to the thread if and when he replies in the affirmative.
I've asked another Paul of the peakbagger variety for permission to use a certain exquisite route photo from earlier this season. I'll post it to the thread if and when he replies in the affirmative.
Patches-all-year. Sky with a salute to Kam.
...whoa! that's the mother of all patches.. add a 10-mile schwack to get to it and i'm in heaven.
Sky poses with his tights, and admires my tent. That's right. Admires.
The Best Rock in the Universe.
Stop p-footing around with all of this sking stuff. Is that Sky sending the sick alpine proj? You should totally publish that in the NWABJ.
What a great trip! With a new kid I'm limited to day trips right now, so I really love the blow by blows of the bigger adventures. Thanks for the report and pix.
Jimmy O
Jimmy O
Here's an exquisite route photo taken by Paul Klenke from Dark Peak on May 26. I won't draw the line because it's already screaming so loudly. Thanks Paul!
Sounds like a great trip guys. Glad you enjoyed Holden Village too. The people there are sure nice.
Sky, I'd be curious to hear your thoughts on why roped skiing is silly. It's interesting to understand how different people approach the sport...
Sky, I'd be curious to hear your thoughts on why roped skiing is silly. It's interesting to understand how different people approach the sport...
This was an amazing trip, and it had that true "wilderness" feel for a ski mountaineering expedition. Good times with some great friends. ;)
I generally think roped skiing is silly, but there are exceptions.
For me a huge part of the joy of skiing is the flying sensation that comes with the continuity of linking turns, unweighting from one turn to the next to feel the skis flex and catapult me into flotation again. Big exposure adds a complementary visual stimulus to this feeling. Therefore big exposure is good.
There is a heavenly mindlessness to skiing a long slope without stopping. The bigger the slope, the deeper the meditation.
Certainly routes with technical skiing involve maneuvers that lack the flow of which I speak. But they add something to the freely flowing turns that follow; the more intense the crux, the more exuberant the release. Imagine the skier as water flowing down a river. Difficult technical skiing that requires one move at a time is like a very narrow gorge. The current greatly increases. Then the route relaxes, the river emerges from a rapid via a waterfall, and the water will swirl and eddy until it reaches its new equilibrium state. The more intense the route, the more violent the whitewater. The violent interruptions in the river upstream create a greater appreciation for the flow downstream. Connect it all in one long stream, continuous from headwaters to lowlands, and there is a very satisfying wholeness.
Where does roped skiing fit into this?
The only thing I can think is that a rope is like a dam. It is a constriction, but it buries the rapids. It removes the tension from the crux. Regardless of whether it gets weighted or not... even if a molecule of water happens to flow directly over the spillgate without ever recirculating in the reservoir, the violent changes of direction and discontinuities inherent in rough waters are lost. Who wouldn't like to see the mighty waterfalls that existed on the Columbia in the gorge before Bonneville Dam? The river is still impressive, but its character has definitely changed. A competent climber with a rope and some protection can easily remove all worries from a ski descent. But there's no flow in setting anchors and belaying. The rapids are lost, as is the mental turmoil that adds to the exhiliration of the free turns thereafter.
This especially applies to ropework in the middle of a descent. I can almost justify using the rope to descend from the summit. Maybe we could picture a small lake at the head of a creek. But nevertheless something is lost.
I like to think of steep ski descents as free soloing 4th and very easy 5th class terrain in an alpine setting. That's my favorite climbing, when one can move uninterrupted but great care, concentration and attention are required.
Lowell, as someone who appreciates the flow of a long tour I hope you can identify with the analogy. Beautiful long tours and technical ski descents are part of the same sport, yet different. Continuing with the water theme, perhaps we could think of one as an epic ocean kayaking voyage and the other as whitewater kayaking rapids on rough creeks?
*****************************************************************************
On another note, Greg, if I read the guidelines literally I'd have to give the summit descent D20... but either way it's not indicative of the overall character of the route. If Lou has NE Face of Mt Fury on there as D19 then I guess I'm likely to call it D19. But maybe that's psychological. The NE Face is very sustained. If you've ever climbed the South Buttress of Cutthroat Peak, almost all of the route is 4th class or very easy 5th. But there is one move on a fist crack just below the summit that is supposedly 5.8. It feels like an easy cruiser route, but 5.8 sounds much more serious to me.
Isn't the NE Buttress of Mt Slesse 5.8? But it's 20 pitches of 5.8. In fact, it's a different world than the South Buttress of Cutthroat. Oh nevermind it's 5.9... but the point stands.
Looking at the northwest routes that have found their way onto Lou's little list, I'd probably call the descent without the summit D12 or D13. But even that doesn't do it justice. The upper part of this route really lets you play with the exposure and slope to your personal satisfaction. You can take as much or as little as conditions and your personal proclivities dictate. There isn't really a choice on the lower buttress above the bergschrund, but we had the paragon of cream corn there so it's easy for me to ignore that.
All right ENOUGH, I must analyze data...
For me a huge part of the joy of skiing is the flying sensation that comes with the continuity of linking turns, unweighting from one turn to the next to feel the skis flex and catapult me into flotation again. Big exposure adds a complementary visual stimulus to this feeling. Therefore big exposure is good.
There is a heavenly mindlessness to skiing a long slope without stopping. The bigger the slope, the deeper the meditation.
Certainly routes with technical skiing involve maneuvers that lack the flow of which I speak. But they add something to the freely flowing turns that follow; the more intense the crux, the more exuberant the release. Imagine the skier as water flowing down a river. Difficult technical skiing that requires one move at a time is like a very narrow gorge. The current greatly increases. Then the route relaxes, the river emerges from a rapid via a waterfall, and the water will swirl and eddy until it reaches its new equilibrium state. The more intense the route, the more violent the whitewater. The violent interruptions in the river upstream create a greater appreciation for the flow downstream. Connect it all in one long stream, continuous from headwaters to lowlands, and there is a very satisfying wholeness.
Where does roped skiing fit into this?
The only thing I can think is that a rope is like a dam. It is a constriction, but it buries the rapids. It removes the tension from the crux. Regardless of whether it gets weighted or not... even if a molecule of water happens to flow directly over the spillgate without ever recirculating in the reservoir, the violent changes of direction and discontinuities inherent in rough waters are lost. Who wouldn't like to see the mighty waterfalls that existed on the Columbia in the gorge before Bonneville Dam? The river is still impressive, but its character has definitely changed. A competent climber with a rope and some protection can easily remove all worries from a ski descent. But there's no flow in setting anchors and belaying. The rapids are lost, as is the mental turmoil that adds to the exhiliration of the free turns thereafter.
This especially applies to ropework in the middle of a descent. I can almost justify using the rope to descend from the summit. Maybe we could picture a small lake at the head of a creek. But nevertheless something is lost.
I like to think of steep ski descents as free soloing 4th and very easy 5th class terrain in an alpine setting. That's my favorite climbing, when one can move uninterrupted but great care, concentration and attention are required.
Lowell, as someone who appreciates the flow of a long tour I hope you can identify with the analogy. Beautiful long tours and technical ski descents are part of the same sport, yet different. Continuing with the water theme, perhaps we could think of one as an epic ocean kayaking voyage and the other as whitewater kayaking rapids on rough creeks?
*****************************************************************************
On another note, Greg, if I read the guidelines literally I'd have to give the summit descent D20... but either way it's not indicative of the overall character of the route. If Lou has NE Face of Mt Fury on there as D19 then I guess I'm likely to call it D19. But maybe that's psychological. The NE Face is very sustained. If you've ever climbed the South Buttress of Cutthroat Peak, almost all of the route is 4th class or very easy 5th. But there is one move on a fist crack just below the summit that is supposedly 5.8. It feels like an easy cruiser route, but 5.8 sounds much more serious to me.
Isn't the NE Buttress of Mt Slesse 5.8? But it's 20 pitches of 5.8. In fact, it's a different world than the South Buttress of Cutthroat. Oh nevermind it's 5.9... but the point stands.
Looking at the northwest routes that have found their way onto Lou's little list, I'd probably call the descent without the summit D12 or D13. But even that doesn't do it justice. The upper part of this route really lets you play with the exposure and slope to your personal satisfaction. You can take as much or as little as conditions and your personal proclivities dictate. There isn't really a choice on the lower buttress above the bergschrund, but we had the paragon of cream corn there so it's easy for me to ignore that.
All right ENOUGH, I must analyze data...
Lowell - Yes, couldn't agree more. The people at Holden, both residents and visitors alike are all very nice and were quite inquisitive of our adventure. Having spent a fair amount of time in the Chelan area, I think it has something also to do with the lifestyle on that side of the mountains.
wow. just checked in to see what the uninjured people are up to lately. great trip report, it must have been an outstanding ski!
Hey Dave....I heard you were practicing for the new sport of extreme summersaulting ;)
Awesome trip guys.
Awesome trip guys.
Thanks for your explanation Sky.
Yes, I understand and appreciate the concept of flow. I started using the term "flow day" several years ago to describe long day trips on skis, after reading Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi's book on the subject. I've experienced flow on both long tours and steep descents.
Your comments explain why you prefer unroped skiing, but not why roped skiing is silly. Silly, to me, implies something ridiculous or weak or even mildly contemptible. I don't think of roped skiing that way. I see it as a personal choice that reflects how one chooses to balance style, technique and risk.
It's clear that you prefer to maintain tension in the crux and not remove all worries from a ski descent. Risk is important to you. That's fine. You can make your own decisions.
I'd hesitate, though, to use a word like silly to describe a technique like roped skiing. There's room in ski mountaineering for many approaches to the sport, and denigrating a perfectly valid technique can too easily be interpreted as denigrating anyone who chooses that technique. I'd consider that bad style.
Yes, I understand and appreciate the concept of flow. I started using the term "flow day" several years ago to describe long day trips on skis, after reading Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi's book on the subject. I've experienced flow on both long tours and steep descents.
Your comments explain why you prefer unroped skiing, but not why roped skiing is silly. Silly, to me, implies something ridiculous or weak or even mildly contemptible. I don't think of roped skiing that way. I see it as a personal choice that reflects how one chooses to balance style, technique and risk.
It's clear that you prefer to maintain tension in the crux and not remove all worries from a ski descent. Risk is important to you. That's fine. You can make your own decisions.
I'd hesitate, though, to use a word like silly to describe a technique like roped skiing. There's room in ski mountaineering for many approaches to the sport, and denigrating a perfectly valid technique can too easily be interpreted as denigrating anyone who chooses that technique. I'd consider that bad style.
A bit of clarification seems to be in order. I respect people for whatever level of risk they assume; that's a highly personal choice. What I will continue to call silly is the use of ropework for the sake of keeping clicked into the skis. Lowell, I've read and respected your opinions about downclimbing when the risk associated with skiing a given slope is too high. So please don't think that's an approach I'm trying to discredit.
Personally, I find it much more aesthetic to remove the skis, downclimb to the bottom of a short section, then ski from there, than to go through the antics of using a rope to belay the same section. I ascribe no further achievement to a skier who completes a ski descent in such a fashion without removing skis, even if they never actually weight the rope, than I would to the skier who downclimbs the same section. The fact is that the rope removes the continuity from the descent. It seems to me that there's more continuity in a quick downclimb than there is in the tedium of ropework. Therein lies the silliness.
So to those who feel they should rappel or downclimb: do so to your heart's content! I'm just letting you know that if you use the rope, regardless of how you do it, I won't be impressed by what you did with your skis while you were using the rope. That's all.
Of course 99.9% of the people on the planet would probably consider a lunatic skier exhorting other, possibly more sane skiers with his personal dogma about the best way to descend mountains to be the rather silly. But that's just how the world looks through my eyeballs.
Personally, I find it much more aesthetic to remove the skis, downclimb to the bottom of a short section, then ski from there, than to go through the antics of using a rope to belay the same section. I ascribe no further achievement to a skier who completes a ski descent in such a fashion without removing skis, even if they never actually weight the rope, than I would to the skier who downclimbs the same section. The fact is that the rope removes the continuity from the descent. It seems to me that there's more continuity in a quick downclimb than there is in the tedium of ropework. Therein lies the silliness.
So to those who feel they should rappel or downclimb: do so to your heart's content! I'm just letting you know that if you use the rope, regardless of how you do it, I won't be impressed by what you did with your skis while you were using the rope. That's all.
Of course 99.9% of the people on the planet would probably consider a lunatic skier exhorting other, possibly more sane skiers with his personal dogma about the best way to descend mountains to be the rather silly. But that's just how the world looks through my eyeballs.
I think it would be fairly impossible to actually ski on belay. Unless you have the Perfect Belayer. But then again a fair amount of notreallyskiing happens in the mountains even without the influence of a rope...
I've downclimbed where "skiing" on a rope would have been possible, to be honest it would have felt pretty silly to bust out the rope. For instance I think it would have been silly for the others on this trip to have rope-skied off the top, just to have "skied" from the top. I think if you can't ski it, then just downclimb or rappel.
But maybe having the skis on will make you safer or save time over just rapping/downclimbing. Perhaps you already have your skis on, and would save time by not taking them off and putting them back on. Or you could be rappelling with skis already on, because you're rapelling onto steep snow. Or furthermore, you could be taking awesome photographs of somebody "skiing" 80 degree water ice, and then it's totally ok, and you could even retouch the photo to remove that neon green hair that was on your lens and you didn't realize it at the time.
edit: but I think we will all agree that when I finally send the the Nisqually Chutes with double-iceaxes in hand, that will be totally legit.
I've downclimbed where "skiing" on a rope would have been possible, to be honest it would have felt pretty silly to bust out the rope. For instance I think it would have been silly for the others on this trip to have rope-skied off the top, just to have "skied" from the top. I think if you can't ski it, then just downclimb or rappel.
But maybe having the skis on will make you safer or save time over just rapping/downclimbing. Perhaps you already have your skis on, and would save time by not taking them off and putting them back on. Or you could be rappelling with skis already on, because you're rapelling onto steep snow. Or furthermore, you could be taking awesome photographs of somebody "skiing" 80 degree water ice, and then it's totally ok, and you could even retouch the photo to remove that neon green hair that was on your lens and you didn't realize it at the time.
edit: but I think we will all agree that when I finally send the the Nisqually Chutes with double-iceaxes in hand, that will be totally legit.
All right you silly snowboarder, go here and look under How steep is it?...
I won't cite examples of well-known people practicing such techniques on pioneering descents because this isn't about taking pot shots at anyone. I'm just preaching the gospel of ski mountaineering style according to skykilo.
I won't cite examples of well-known people practicing such techniques on pioneering descents because this isn't about taking pot shots at anyone. I'm just preaching the gospel of ski mountaineering style according to skykilo.
It's quite possible to ski in a fashion similar to 'normal' skiing while belayed.
Check out this video of a FD on the Pfeifferhorn in Utah: link. The skiers decided to belay due to suspected snow instabilities.
Personally, I respect a decent with belayed skiing more than the same descent with a rappel or downclimb at the section of difficulty. Obviously, this differs from Sky's opinions. I hope I can live with that.
Check out this video of a FD on the Pfeifferhorn in Utah: link. The skiers decided to belay due to suspected snow instabilities.
Personally, I respect a decent with belayed skiing more than the same descent with a rappel or downclimb at the section of difficulty. Obviously, this differs from Sky's opinions. I hope I can live with that.
I try to make sure that all of my ski partners wish I was skiing roped at least once on every trip. I think it serves as a good counterexample.
Oh yeah I forgot about roped ski cutting. I think that falls under the necessary safety category. Ok wait I just watched the video, is that ski cutting, or just non-commital steep-skiing?
They have the skills to just crank it obviously, or do a long cut off to the right. I guess it just felt natural after rapping so much? Got in the habit?
Oh yeah I forgot about roped ski cutting. I think that falls under the necessary safety category. Ok wait I just watched the video, is that ski cutting, or just non-commital steep-skiing?
They have the skills to just crank it obviously, or do a long cut off to the right. I guess it just felt natural after rapping so much? Got in the habit?
I think it would be fairly impossible to actually ski on belay. Unless you have the Perfect Belayer.
I skied on belay for several turns on a route this spring, and it seemed to work (couple of hard jerks here and there :) ).
I did so to get a feel for the snow stability in a location an avy would have been deadly... does that take away from descent style in your opinion Sky?
Phil, your entire descent is now null and void. I'm quite sympathetic.
;) ;D
;) ;D
I think it would be fairly impossible to actually ski on belay. Unless you have the Perfect Belayer.
Speaking of this, the other day I ended up at the Exum Guides Frequently Asked Question page for skiing the Grand Teton. The FAQ is pretty interesting. Here's an excerpt claiming you'll not notice skiing on belay:
How steep is it? You'll never be skiing anything steeper than 40-45° without a roped belay. Even if you consider yourself fully capable of skiing slopes steeper than that unprotected, in our guided situation we prefer to avoid a situation where an unexpected slip or fall could lead to a life-threatening slide off the mountain. You'll hardly notice your belay rope as you ski, one precise turn at a time, down the Grand Teton.
http://www.exumguides.com/winter/skigrandfaq.shtml
I've never skied on belay before, so I don't know how accurate that statement is and I realize Exum may be biased. Though if skiing on belay doesn't negatively affect your ability to link turns other then stopping at belay stations, it does seem more pleasent then missing a turn and falling off a cliff.
Even really good skiers can still miss a turn or their bindings can blew up, etc. Hans Saari was a very good skier.
Edit: Sky beat me to linking to the Exum page. Damn I respond too slowly ;)
Another edit: Exum is using Mark Newcomb and Doug Coombs to guide the Grand. They very well may be perfect belayers.
You guys are right. I changed my mind. Me and my rope are going to go ski the North Face of Triumph.
You protect climbs with a rope. Nothing is taken away from an ascent because you didn't solo it. Roped climbing is the norm. So it doesn't seem too much different to do the same for ski descents. It's just protection in the event of a fall, so that fall doesn't have critical consequences.
Maybe someday this will become the norm for more of the 'extreme' ski descents.
I'm not for or against belayed skiing. It is still skiing afterall and you can link turns on belay, you just need a little penalty slack on the line.
However, as far as the aesthetics of a descent goes, for some reason it does seem to detract a little from the ski.
Maybe a more appropriate analogy would be likening it to the difference between aid and free climbing. Once a line has gone free the general consensus is that that is the best style to do it. So if a line has been skied without a belay maybe that sets the standard and for a party to subsequently ski it on belay could be seen as 'bad style'?
However with the variability of the medium on which we schuss down the side of a mountain, the route is rarely if ever the same twice, unlike most rock climbs. So each descent deserves evaluation by those there at the time. So to ski it on belay or to rap a section if it is necessary may not detract from the descent, other than in the minds of those skiing knowing that others may have found the route in 'better' condition.
Maybe someday this will become the norm for more of the 'extreme' ski descents.
I'm not for or against belayed skiing. It is still skiing afterall and you can link turns on belay, you just need a little penalty slack on the line.
However, as far as the aesthetics of a descent goes, for some reason it does seem to detract a little from the ski.
Maybe a more appropriate analogy would be likening it to the difference between aid and free climbing. Once a line has gone free the general consensus is that that is the best style to do it. So if a line has been skied without a belay maybe that sets the standard and for a party to subsequently ski it on belay could be seen as 'bad style'?
However with the variability of the medium on which we schuss down the side of a mountain, the route is rarely if ever the same twice, unlike most rock climbs. So each descent deserves evaluation by those there at the time. So to ski it on belay or to rap a section if it is necessary may not detract from the descent, other than in the minds of those skiing knowing that others may have found the route in 'better' condition.
Great comments from everybody. I really appreciate hearing all the different points of view.
Sky, you said that you ascribe no further achievement to a skier who completes a descent on skis while on belay than to one who downclimbs on foot. You said: "I won't be impressed by what you did with your skis while you were using the rope."
As justification for this view, you mentioned aesthetics and continuity of movement, which to me are subjective matters. But you couched your objection in terms of achievement, which suggests a more objective standard. Skiing with a rope is no less a technical achievement than skiing without one. In fact, as several have said, it may be technically harder.
Using continuity and flow as a standard of achievement sounds appropriate for a free skiing contest, but we're talking about ski mountaineering. There are no judges up there. So, to me, the only objective difference between skiing roped and skiing unroped, in terms of achievement, is the acceptance of risk. I think that's a questionable standard.
In a 1984 article in Rock & Ice, John Harlin wrote about the first ski descent of the east face of Long's Peak in Colorado. His thoughts resonate with me:
Sky, you said that you ascribe no further achievement to a skier who completes a descent on skis while on belay than to one who downclimbs on foot. You said: "I won't be impressed by what you did with your skis while you were using the rope."
As justification for this view, you mentioned aesthetics and continuity of movement, which to me are subjective matters. But you couched your objection in terms of achievement, which suggests a more objective standard. Skiing with a rope is no less a technical achievement than skiing without one. In fact, as several have said, it may be technically harder.
Using continuity and flow as a standard of achievement sounds appropriate for a free skiing contest, but we're talking about ski mountaineering. There are no judges up there. So, to me, the only objective difference between skiing roped and skiing unroped, in terms of achievement, is the acceptance of risk. I think that's a questionable standard.
In a 1984 article in Rock & Ice, John Harlin wrote about the first ski descent of the east face of Long's Peak in Colorado. His thoughts resonate with me:
"Belaying an 'extreme' descent raises a number of questions. Chris Landry's definition of extreme skiing easily catches the public's imagination: 'If you fall, you die.' By that philosophy, a belay would automatically remove the descent from the extreme category. But, for crying out loud, climbers can do hard and interesting things in the mountains without undue worrying about death. Why not skiers? Why must steep skiing be free-soloing? So, I rationalized to myself, belaying could and ought to be introduced to 'extreme' skiing. Someone else could have the honor of the first 'free-solo' of the descent if they so chose."
Great conversation here, hooray for TAY! Merci beaucoup, Charles.
So I'll clarify even further, and then I'll leave this alone. Phil, you used a rope to enter and ski-cut the couloir. I see no problem with this. There is definitely nothing wrong with using a rope for abatement of avalanche risks. You also used the rope at the top and then skied the whole thing continuously after that, if I remember correctly. That's precisely how I would use a rope.
The whole idea here is style. Ultimately, the worst style is to not make it home. So I'd much rather see people doing belayed skiing than falling off a mountain. But for me, something is lost with the introduction of a rope.
Maybe this little bit of information will help with perspective: I also feel that a little something is lost in the shuffle of taking pictures. My camera broke before Corey and I skied the North Lyman Glacier a couple years ago. We skied the whole thing without stopping. There was a point in the middle, just above the 50-55 degree ice ramp below the huge, dripping serac, where we paused for a moment. But only long enough to assess what was below us; we cranked the rest of the thing right to the bottom. I felt like the descent was better than almost any I'd done simply because we weren't stopping to take pictures. The seamless flow of the whole thing left an incredible impression on me.
That's what I'm trying to say. These are my personal guidelines. Nobody else has to agree with them, much less play by them.
As far as skiing with a rope... it could be good practice. Maybe you could learn to negotiate more demanding bits of skiing without the full consequences present. But in my mind, that's not what skiing is all about. (Apologies to Gordy Skoog.)
On one final note, above Lowell observed that risk is important for me. Well maybe that is true de facto. But it's certainly not true de juris. It may add to the emotional side of the experience. But I see it more like this: it's all about aesthetics. Now it just so happens that my ideals lead to risk. But risk is not the goal. The goal is a descent of beauty and continuity. It just so happens that risk is inherent in some of these beautiful ski descents. At any given time when I'm climbing something, I weigh the risk versus the reward of the descent. On this occasion I think my calculations were good.
So I'll clarify even further, and then I'll leave this alone. Phil, you used a rope to enter and ski-cut the couloir. I see no problem with this. There is definitely nothing wrong with using a rope for abatement of avalanche risks. You also used the rope at the top and then skied the whole thing continuously after that, if I remember correctly. That's precisely how I would use a rope.
The whole idea here is style. Ultimately, the worst style is to not make it home. So I'd much rather see people doing belayed skiing than falling off a mountain. But for me, something is lost with the introduction of a rope.
Maybe this little bit of information will help with perspective: I also feel that a little something is lost in the shuffle of taking pictures. My camera broke before Corey and I skied the North Lyman Glacier a couple years ago. We skied the whole thing without stopping. There was a point in the middle, just above the 50-55 degree ice ramp below the huge, dripping serac, where we paused for a moment. But only long enough to assess what was below us; we cranked the rest of the thing right to the bottom. I felt like the descent was better than almost any I'd done simply because we weren't stopping to take pictures. The seamless flow of the whole thing left an incredible impression on me.
That's what I'm trying to say. These are my personal guidelines. Nobody else has to agree with them, much less play by them.
As far as skiing with a rope... it could be good practice. Maybe you could learn to negotiate more demanding bits of skiing without the full consequences present. But in my mind, that's not what skiing is all about. (Apologies to Gordy Skoog.)
On one final note, above Lowell observed that risk is important for me. Well maybe that is true de facto. But it's certainly not true de juris. It may add to the emotional side of the experience. But I see it more like this: it's all about aesthetics. Now it just so happens that my ideals lead to risk. But risk is not the goal. The goal is a descent of beauty and continuity. It just so happens that risk is inherent in some of these beautiful ski descents. At any given time when I'm climbing something, I weigh the risk versus the reward of the descent. On this occasion I think my calculations were good.
When I rockclimb, I'm scared out of my mind and then I fall. Wham! I stop. The rope comes taunt. I get back on the rock and try again.
The same could go for skiing. One of my worst fears used to be making that one crux turn, and my cable snaps or I slip...maybe trip ??? and fall teacup over tea-kettle all of the way down over cliffs and glaciers. The rope didn't come taunt and I didn't learn (to check your damn gear gaper). There isn't no getting back up and trying again.
How good would a rock climber be if they never used a rope (ever!)?
Who you be sending 5.10, 5.14?
Skiing steeps is a LOT like whitewater kayaking down a class V canyon, where there isn't any protection. This is a feat that the creek boater has wet dreams just thinking about. But it isn't something a playboater, who surfs all day on one rapid, jumps in his boat and goes down (the resort skier). They first have to learn on creeks where safety can be set up.
So, in my opinion after reading all of these posts, I think that rope skiing does have its place. It can help propel the sport to new levels, allow fathers and mothers, the older and wiser to schuss down routes that would otherwise be too risky and still allow the young and/or bold to sharpen their skills without the peril.
I still like the idea of the focus and thrill I get from skiing steeps sans rope, in a way that Sky put so poetically, but looking beyond the selfish bravado and self-discovery, I also understand that the sport could be furthered by the use of belayed skiing.
Now I'm aaaahhh gonna get back to studying theory. Yea, that's what I'm gonna do? ;)
The same could go for skiing. One of my worst fears used to be making that one crux turn, and my cable snaps or I slip...maybe trip ??? and fall teacup over tea-kettle all of the way down over cliffs and glaciers. The rope didn't come taunt and I didn't learn (to check your damn gear gaper). There isn't no getting back up and trying again.
How good would a rock climber be if they never used a rope (ever!)?
Who you be sending 5.10, 5.14?
Skiing steeps is a LOT like whitewater kayaking down a class V canyon, where there isn't any protection. This is a feat that the creek boater has wet dreams just thinking about. But it isn't something a playboater, who surfs all day on one rapid, jumps in his boat and goes down (the resort skier). They first have to learn on creeks where safety can be set up.
So, in my opinion after reading all of these posts, I think that rope skiing does have its place. It can help propel the sport to new levels, allow fathers and mothers, the older and wiser to schuss down routes that would otherwise be too risky and still allow the young and/or bold to sharpen their skills without the peril.
I still like the idea of the focus and thrill I get from skiing steeps sans rope, in a way that Sky put so poetically, but looking beyond the selfish bravado and self-discovery, I also understand that the sport could be furthered by the use of belayed skiing.
Now I'm aaaahhh gonna get back to studying theory. Yea, that's what I'm gonna do? ;)
Ross - That was called a hop-turn-flip. It was only for 1 turn, so that was a good thing. ;) Besides, I figured it was better than sidestepping like one of us chose to do for that distance. 8)
I think the main issue people like Sky have with roped skiing isnt that it takes the risk away, it's that it takes away from the actual movement of skiing. Climbing is, more or less, a bunch of linked static puzzles. Having a rope there doesnt really interfere much beyond having to stop for belays and to place pro, but you stop anyway so its no big deal. Skiing, on the otherhand, is comparitvely fast and dynamic, so stopping to deal with a rope alters it to something different. I think if there were better forms of protecting exposed skiing without a rope, this issue would be moot. For example, I dont think anyone would fault a steep skier for using self-arrest grips or an ice axe, and they add some measure of protection to exposed places.
Carrying this to its illogical end .... what are the philisophical implications of steep skiing not with a rope, but a parachute? Apparently it's the latest craze among ski movie brah-dudes, and who can forget the first descent/fall from Everest on skis (although, if I rememebr right, the parachute wasnt actually what stopped him). Granted, a parachute isnt a very practical tool for the kind of skiing we are discussing here, but if there were some sort of magic device that could end a potentially fatal tumble, and not interfere with the movement of skiing, who here wouldnt be pricing them on eBay?
Carrying this to its illogical end .... what are the philisophical implications of steep skiing not with a rope, but a parachute? Apparently it's the latest craze among ski movie brah-dudes, and who can forget the first descent/fall from Everest on skis (although, if I rememebr right, the parachute wasnt actually what stopped him). Granted, a parachute isnt a very practical tool for the kind of skiing we are discussing here, but if there were some sort of magic device that could end a potentially fatal tumble, and not interfere with the movement of skiing, who here wouldnt be pricing them on eBay?
What really puzzled me is, what was the precursory eating a precursor to? Perhaps I'm not being literary enough, and I should imagine crumbles of dung bouncing off Sky's chest at this point in the report?
At any rate, congrats on a cool ski and thanks for the entertaining conversation on style. I always figure what feels good and right for me is, well, right for me, and may or may not be someone else's cup of tea. Or dung...
At any rate, congrats on a cool ski and thanks for the entertaining conversation on style. I always figure what feels good and right for me is, well, right for me, and may or may not be someone else's cup of tea. Or dung...
Heck, I never use 'em. Takes all the dang feeling away!" ;D
(joking!!)
(joking!!)
I made a
little video
Ok, it's not little, it's over 11 minutes, and over 20MB. And it has foul language and vulgar song lyrics. So don't download it. But if you do, and you're gonna watch it more than once, right-click -> save target as...
little video
Ok, it's not little, it's over 11 minutes, and over 20MB. And it has foul language and vulgar song lyrics. So don't download it. But if you do, and you're gonna watch it more than once, right-click -> save target as...
Classic trip, all time classic vidi. Congrats, guys -- you finally got one of these suckers on film!
Phil, if you want to make a 1 mbps version available for download, I can host it.
Phil, if you want to make a 1 mbps version available for download, I can host it.
You protect climbs with a rope. Nothing is taken away from an ascent because you didn't solo it. Roped climbing is the norm. So it doesn't seem too much different to do the same for ski descents. It's just protection in the event of a fall, so that fall doesn't have critical consequences.
Maybe someday this will become the norm for more of the 'extreme' ski descents.
I'm not for or against belayed skiing. It is still skiing afterall and you can link turns on belay, you just need a little penalty slack on the line.
However, as far as the aesthetics of a descent goes, for some reason it does seem to detract a little from the ski.
Maybe a more appropriate analogy would be likening it to the difference between aid and free climbing. Once a line has gone free the general consensus is that that is the best style to do it. So if a line has been skied without a belay maybe that sets the standard and for a party to subsequently ski it on belay could be seen as 'bad style'?
However with the variability of the medium on which we schuss down the side of a mountain, the route is rarely if ever the same twice, unlike most rock climbs. So each descent deserves evaluation by those there at the time. So to ski it on belay or to rap a section if it is necessary may not detract from the descent, other than in the minds of those skiing knowing that others may have found the route in 'better' condition.
I couldn't have put it better myself, Ross. Game day decisions, all the way.
So I'll clarify even further, and then I'll leave this alone.
Thanks for your further clarification, Sky. This discussion has been helpful to shine light on two schools of thought regarding steep skiing. Both schools agree that in moderate conditions the most aesthetic descent is one completed continuously on skis with no technical impedimenta. But at higher levels of difficulty, these schools diverge.
One school accepts a degree of higher risk in order to avoid rope work. The other school accepts a degree of rope work in order to avoid higher risk. At some point, adherents of either school will give up skiing altogether and downclimb or rappel. I hesitate to say that either school is more "stylish" than the other. Instead they disagree on what good style is under the conditions in question.
In your last reply, you wrote:
On one final note, above Lowell observed that risk is important for me. Well maybe that is true de facto. But it's certainly not true de juris.
Thanks for this clarification. Perhaps my misunderstanding was due to one of your earlier posts, in which you wrote:
The foremost motivation that drives me is to get far out of my comfort zone. I can't explain the exhiliration that comes with it.
Great video, Phil.
All right, all right. Just in case people think I have some crazy fetish, what I meant to imply was that there was some 'tish talking' without using a four-letter word.
I can't wait to get on a Fenêtres machine and see the video, Phil.
Je regardais mes mots vieux. Mon dieu! Il est possible que je sois menteur. Peut-être je change comme le vent.
Je doute que l'interprétation et le context importent...
Ropes are evil. They represent the serpent, and the temptation and fall of man from grace. I'm going home to burn all three of my ropes right now.
I can't wait to get on a Fenêtres machine and see the video, Phil.
Je regardais mes mots vieux. Mon dieu! Il est possible que je sois menteur. Peut-être je change comme le vent.
Je doute que l'interprétation et le context importent...
Ropes are evil. They represent the serpent, and the temptation and fall of man from grace. I'm going home to burn all three of my ropes right now.
There's something to be said for being out of your comfort zone, but I think one of the reasons I enjoyed this ski so much, is that I was within it (or near the edge?) (wouldn't have been the case if I skied from the true summit ;))
another great video, looks like a hell of a trip. i'm envious that y'all can take off so many weekdays to pursue these fantastic trips when the weather is at its prime.
Maybe one of these days the weather will be nice on a weekend, or I'll just have to get 'sick' for several days in a row.
Maybe one of these days the weather will be nice on a weekend, or I'll just have to get 'sick' for several days in a row.
Looks like a good time. Kills me to see all of that snow without a snowboarder around to sweep lines over it.
I'm joining the dialogue a little late, so I'll be brief. 1)Sky, in my opinion your report is one of the better ones you've written. I especially liked how you included a bit of the history of the region. Very cool. 2) To the four of you- Sky, Dave, Phil and Paul- your trip is reminiscent of the great first ascents in the French Alps (minus the huts!). Also very cool. And 3) to all of you who have contributed to the discussion on roped skiing, the quality of thought within your comments reinforces my belief that Alpinism combines the body and mind in ways matched by no other activity.
I wrote an essay nearly comparable to Sky's in length, if not in quality. You can find it here.
(It's an essay, not a trip report, because the word to photo ratio is far too high. ;) )
(It's an essay, not a trip report, because the word to photo ratio is far too high. ;) )
I think some people here don't give a shit about the risk factor and would rather spray on the board about what they did do and how crazy they are and warrenmilleresque (aka "Look at me Dad")
There is no way that they will ever catch an edge, hit some blue ice and lose it, or whatever danger lies that is uncontrollable. I think sometimes you should leave you damn ego at the car and just ski for fun, not too say "you did it and barely scraped by".
Just my .02 but I'm more careful these days with a young toddler. Spray On
There is no way that they will ever catch an edge, hit some blue ice and lose it, or whatever danger lies that is uncontrollable. I think sometimes you should leave you damn ego at the car and just ski for fun, not too say "you did it and barely scraped by".
Just my .02 but I'm more careful these days with a young toddler. Spray On
Warren Miller & earning your turns is for the most part, an oxymoron. Clearly you don't know the skills, or the conditioning of the individuals you claim are chestbeating to be calling them out like this. I think that they could certainly gain more attention if they wanted too (but it's not their focus); however, you wouldn't know that.
And, I wouldn't call this an ego trip, but rather an epic one!
And, I wouldn't call this an ego trip, but rather an epic one!
Just saw the movie and noted it was quite an awesome trip, and my hats are off to you. My thoughts are not presented on this trip specifically, but in general.
If being careful and redundant in your safety skills is dumb, then so be it. Live long and prosper
If being careful and redundant in your safety skills is dumb, then so be it. Live long and prosper
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