2-4-07, Colchuck Col (8,000'), Colchuck Glacier

Day 23
2-4-07
Colchuck Col (8,000€™)
TH: Eightmile campground turnoff (2,200€™)
5,800 VF skiing
4 m approach road
2.5 m from TH (3,360€™)
1.6 m to Colchuck Lake (5,570€™)
1.5 m to Colchuck Col (8,000€™) =
19.2 mile RT

Yin-Yang Part 1

When you add up all the numbers, it sounds like a big day - 19.2 miles and almost 6,000 VF of skiing €“ worthy of the title epic.  Combined with one hour of sleep and an unrelenting breakable crust, and you have a mystic experience.

My eyes opened with a blurry flash at midnight, one hour after setting my head on the pillow for €œsleep€.  The picture show of images transformed from my eyelids to real life and I drank my way through a half a pot of coffee from my house to our 1 am rendezvous, and then on to Eastern Washington. 

Ron and I arrived at the trailhead at 3:20 am after a harrowing drive up the aptly named Icicle Canyon, and we were on the move shortly thereafter.

After clearing the lower forest, we arose from the foggy lowlands to drift in the pale light cast from a plump full moon.  No headlamps were needed on the long 4 mile snow covered summer road.  This was what mountaineering was all about. 

It was difficult to ignore, even by the dim light of the moon, the state of the snow pack.  It was shocking.  Huge 4 inch cold weather hore frost glistened in the moonlight, sitting on a changeable crust layer of firm, unfirm and rotten consistency.  We hoped the snow pack would lighten up as we went higher, but it didn€™t look good.  Maybe left over powder hidden in a dark north facing corner?  Anything?

Near dawn we entered one of the more difficult parts of the route €“ the forest below Colchuck Lake.  Narrow tree lined lanes made for slow and dicey skiing, and travel in any speed a rarity.  This was ugly work in the breakable crust.  After 7 miles we finally see Asgaard Pass and Dragontail, our original destination.  It didn€™t look great.  At the crest of the wide pass, rock ribs show through the snow pack, evidence of high winds.  The snow even this far away looked ravaged and unpleasant.

I€™m sure one of the fine snow fingers above the Pass would make good skiing, but as we scanned the scene ahead of us from the shores of Colchuck Lake, our eyes were continually drawn to the Colchuck Glacier, which, by contrast to Asgaard, looked pretty good.  The huge glacier hung like a beacon above the wide lake, like The Skillet Glacier on the Grand €“ yearning to be skied.  Asgaard Pass would have to wait, Colchuck Glacier was the new route du jour.

In a repeating cycle of underestimation, the lake proved longer than expected, and the face larger than anticipated.  Once we reached the edge of the lake we removed the skins and attached crampons for the climb ahead.

Sadly, the snow continued its astoundingly consistent deterioration as we gained altitude.  How bad could it get?  In 5,000 VF of climbing we experienced hundreds of different types of snow, all bad.  The rain crusts were the scariest, while the sustrugi and chalk added an exotica appeal seldom found in local lower climate fair.  There would be no salvation with altitude today, no hidden pockets of north facing powder.  It was all crust until we ended this infernal ramble.

Ron was a 100 yards above me and had topped out, disappearing onto the flat at the crest.  Shortly after he came walking back down.  There was no reason to go any higher, that is what I gleaned from his abrupt turn around.  The col was high enough for me.  I€™d much rather tic the summit when conditions were more pleasant.  Decision made, we cut shelves out of the ice and donned the skis.

It was 2 pm when we skidded off down into the gaping maw above Colchuck Lake.  What followed was some of the most grueling high mountain skiing I€™d done outside of the Whites.  From wind board to rain crust to sustrugi, we scraped down it all.  For 2,500 VF I was in no falls mode, power stem Christies and all.  Ron enjoyed his finely tuned new Dynafit skis and boots, and I enjoyed two edges instead of one on the sweeping upper headwall.  It was a pretty place, but not a pretty place to die.

Nearly 6,000 VF, 9 miles and three hours later we skated back to the icy parking lot.  Beaten and satisfied.  We didn€™t dally in Leavenworth and deadheaded back home.  I had to get home for a couple (more) hours of sleep.

I had a plane to catch.