Dirtbagging in the Southwest

The days are all starting to blend together.  The day of the week no longer matters as I lie here in Red Rocks campground 15 miles west of the crazy place known as Las Vegas.  Im surrounded by like minded people, searchers, wanderers, dreamers, people who are full of life and who are all here for the same reason; to climb.

Most live in their cars.  Many have left jobs in order to pursue this lifestyle driven by freedom and passion.  Its not so much a sport as it is a culture, a lifestyle.  Were not the richest or the cleanest, but we sure know how to have fun and appreciate the simple things in life.

My hands are crusted over with dried blood and my fingertips hurt from the constant contact with this abrasive sandstone.  The days are simplifying into the same basic routine and I couldn't be happier about it.  We wake early, waiting in the brisk desert air for the first rays of sun to come over the hills to the east and warm us.  After a quick breakfast, the campground grows eerily quiet as everyone takes off for the canyons, each with their own plans and goals for the day.  While some seek to push themselves on hard sport routes, others wander deep into the canyons for more sustained climbing on 1000'+ walls.

I opt for the canyons.

There is something magical about these massive sandstone cliffs.  They feel old and wild. Walking in, these cliffs look blank, like sheers walls where humans should not be.  Yet here we are, each pushing our own limits in this beautiful place.  We reach the base of the cliff and begin racking up.  Doubts go through my head, any mistake up there could spell disaster.  Things become very real in these moments, There is something about getting to this point that focuses the mind intently.  All others thoughts drop away and things just start to flow.

Looking up, I take a deep breath and start climbing.

I feel heavy with the rope pulling me down and the endless amounts of gear hanging off my harness.  My hands and feet are my first line of protection from a fall, but I also place protection in cracks and weaknesses in the rocks just in case I slip somewhere.  Time ceases to exist here as I slowly but surely find my way up the wall.  Its like a giant puzzle that can only be unlocked with calm, calculated movements of the body.  I focus on my breathing as the ground slowly grows more and more distant.

Eventually I reach a ledge, build an anchor and call down to my partner that they can now climb.  There is an innate trust here.  A trust that goes beyond any other friendship, a bond that can only be built when you trust your life to another person.  I sit staring out on the desert, methodically belaying as my partner climbs, taking it all in.  Here I am at peace.

They reach the ledge and after a brief gear swap I continue up the wall for the next pitch.  We continue on like this until the sun makes it rounds and begins to drop to the west.  With thoughts of food, we descend and find our way back to the campground as the temperature cools.  Everyone is returning around the same time, sparking up campfires and telling tales of the day over good food and the best beer around; Tecate.

Mental and physical exhaustion slowly take there toll and after a hearty dinner I drop into a deep dream filled sleep in the back of my truck.  Content with the day and excited for the next...

Chris & Taylor on the walk in

Maria on the way up pitch 4 of Birdland

Maria & Taylor on Pitch 5 of Birdland

Party ledge coming down Birdland!

Maria finishing up the final moves on Cat in the Hat

Mescalito at sunset or Mordor?

A bit of an awkward squeeze..

Taylor belaying Chris up to our ledge on the top of Ginger Cracks

Chris reaching on Pitch 2 of Ginger Cracks

Bobby making the final traverse moves off tunnel vision

Getting ready for Pitch 6 on Tunnel Vision
P.C. Bobby Zeolla

Chris on Pitch 4 of Bourbon Street

Bobby giving California 12a (5.12c) a go

Chris coming up Pitch 4 of Ginger Cracks

From the Rugged to the Remote: Adventures in Montana

Arriving March 12th in Bozeman, we rolled into town just as the infamous weekly waffle night was starting.  We were greeted with friendly faces and warm smiles and I felt like I had arrived back in Burlington.  After catching up on the last few months we made plans to get out into the mountains.  We headed to Bridger the next day for some lift accessed skiing and our own proclaimed 80's day!

With plans made around the fire late on the 12th, we also planned to go for a bigger objective on Saturday March 14, Emigrant Peak in the Absaroka range.

There were five of us on board, all splitboarders and all from vermont!

So with plans laid out and stoke high, Bri Baker, Taylor Luneau, Reese Freeman, Chris and I all awoke early on Saturday and headed Southeast towards the Northern Absarokas.

We drove through the 'village' of Chico and turned left at the remnants of the old mining town of White City.  From here we hit an old 4WD road and headed east into the mountains.  After about a half hour of crawling along at a snails pace, we hit a point where the road got too rough and rocks were blocking the way.  Chris's trusty Frontier had brought us as far as it could, from here we were on foot.

Transitioning from Machine to human power

We followed the road, switching between skinning and walking, until we hit consistent snow and found a skin track left up into the mountains.

We followed the remnants of an old skin track for a while and blazed our own where one couldn't be found.  We headed southwest for the better part of 3 hours until we reached the Cirque to the southeast of Emigrant proper.  From here we evaluated snowpack, and decided to ski a north east couloir off of the south summit of Emigrant.

The snow had continually changed as we gained elevation, and instead of the warm, slush we had been expecting, we found some drier snow on shadier aspects.

Making our way up the road

Where are we?

Taylor making his way into the Cirque

Coming up the skintrack
Photo: Bri Baker

We transitioned from skinning to booting as we started climbing one of the couloirs to gain the ridge.  The snow was super variable and not at all what we had discovered in our snow pit 200 yards back on the same aspect.

With varying thickness of windslab on top of feet of facets, my awareness went up and I started paying close attention to what the snowpack was doing.  However, with such variable thickness and little energy in the snow, I still felt comfortable with where we were.

Chris looking on as Taylor tries to set the bootpack

Bri trying to keep her footing on a mountain of facets...

Bri and Reese on the way up
Photo: Chris

Booting was anything but quick or efficient, from Chest deep facets to buried scree we had to scramble over.  After an hour long uphill struggle, we gained the ridge, strapped back in and continued skinning.

Upon reaching the apron up to the summit, the skinning became too difficult and we switched over to walking again, this time with ice axes at the ready.  Spreading out here, we make our way up the final section and topped out to beautiful views and wind from the southwest.

Looking around I definitely felt out there.  Mountains stretched as far as I could see, with the valley that we had come from to the North being the only break in the range.
Being in the backcountry means you are in the backcountry.  There is no outside help and usually not even contact, everything is on you and your partners.

Here I could definitely feel that, there was no room for error.

Reese on the final push to the summit

We were continually discussing our descent on the way up, and had decided our safest option would be to essentially follow the way that we climbed up.  However, everything got flipped upside down as we topped out and a beautiful couloir came into view.

It dropped east off the summit and was continuous all the way down to the cirque.  It was at least a 50 degree pitch at the top, opening up and mellowing out after a few hundred feet.  It was beautiful, but there were a few things holding us back...

1)With such variable conditions everywhere, we couldn't tell if it was powder, windslab, wind loaded, or completely wind buffed.
2) It was a committing line, once in it there would be no way out, except down.
3)We were super remote, with a 5 hour walk to get to where we were after a 30 min off road drive
4) It was late, just about 4 pm, and if anything were to go wrong it would be dark soon.

With all this in mind, we sat at the top looking down this incredibly tempting line...

With wind loading and windslab, my biggest concern was weather or not the whole slope would fracture on my first turn.  And then the opposite end of the spectrum...what if it was rock solid...hmmm

We decided to cut a prominent cornice at the top and see if that made any effect on the slope.  And then re-evaluate.

I set up to be the eyes as Reese and Taylor went at it sawing the cornice off with a piece of paracord.

Back and forth, back and forth...slowly but surly they were making there way through it..

I watched them stand up as the P-cord ripped through the last section of the cornice, and.....nothing happened.  nothing happened?

how was that possible?

We tried two more times over and each time ended with an anticlimactic nothing.  How in the world was this cornice holding on!?

By this time it was almost 4:30, I was cold and the more I thought about it, the more the risk came to outweigh the reward.  So after a final discussion, we turned away and went with our original plan down the apron and back to the first couloir that we had climbed up.

Its never easy to turn away from a line, After all the work that goes into getting to that point and to then turn back is one of the hardest things to do.  But you've got to respect the mountains, and if its not right, its not right.

Albeit being a bit let down, the descent was still sweet, skiing for almost 5000' vert back to the road.

Reese and I staring down the couloir.
Photo: Taylor Luneau

Bri on the way down, Emigrant proper in the background.

Taylor on the summit
Photo: Chris

Reese showing us how to splitboard on rocks...

We made it back to the car by 5:30 and after sharing a congratulatory beer, decided to head over to Yellowstone to bask in the boiling river.   And being that it was ultimate PI day - 3.14.15 we decided to get pizza and were eating it by 9:26:53! crazy!  What better way to relax after a long day?

We showed up on Bri's doorstep, 3 years to the day of our friend Avi's death.  I wouldn't even have known Bri if it hadn't been for Avi.  Avi was also the first to bring me into the backcountry and show me the magic of backcountry snowboarding.  I am forever inspired by his spirit and grateful for that spark that he ignited in me on those days back in Vermont.  This day was for you friend.

The Sliver Couloir // March 9, 2015

I've had my eyes on this line since the first day I rolled into GTNP.  Being one of the only prominent Couloirs that can be seen from the road, it essentially stares at you on every tour into the park.  On first look at this line back in January, I was immediately intimidated and scared at the thought of skiing it.  As I spent more time around the Tetons, meeting folks, getting to know the area and building my confidence in the mountains, this line slowly became more and more feasible.  Last week on a tour into Avalanche canyon, I decided that I had to ski it before I left here.  This thought took over my mind and my free time was spent talking to folks that had skied it, reading trip reports and planning the approach.  Now to just find someone to ski it with...

The Sliver: A beautiful, continuous, ~45 degree, 1200' couloir.  
Does it get much better?

I called a friend and fellow splitter, Randall Stacy, on Sunday afternoon the 8th, with the trip proposition.  He had one free day, the next, and it looked like 45 and sunny.  We had a go!

I packed my ski pack that night and hoped on a bike to make my way towards Randall's place in the Aspens.  We wanted to get an early start, So I opted for his couch over the one I had been keeping warm at Jon's place in Wilson.

Alarms went off at 6:30 am.

Randall's other two roommates, Caleb and Andrew were also on board with the objective, and so our party of four grabbed a quick breakfast and piled into the car.

Andrew, although a competent skier, had never toured before and quickly realized that with the condition of the skin track our objective was out of the question for him.  Caleb, battling a cold, was also not feeling well and opted to turn back with Andrew to ski some lower angle trees while Randall and I continued on.  Moving slower than we would have liked on the icy skin track we didn't reach the Col of Shadow Peak until after 12:30pm.  Dropping into the Cirque, we double transitioned and started booting by 1:30.

With the sun dropping lower and shade moving towards us, I strapped on Crampons and pulled out my Ice Axe for the ascent.  The couloir had been in the sun a lot the last few days and was going through melt-freeze cycles daily.  This left us with little concern for a slide, but also not great snow for riding.  We needed to get to the top before the whole thing was in shadow and the surface froze solid.

With this in mind, we started moving with no intention of stopping until we reached the top.

Randall, making his way up

We were tired from the 3000' we had already skinned on that less than ideal track and even climbing as fast as we could, the top half was in shadow by the time we got to it.
And as the top part steepened to just over 50 degrees, I was grateful that I had crampons on my feet and an axe in my hand.

We reached the top by 2:30, exactly an hour after we started, but it was still later than we had wanted.  As soon as that snow passed into shadow, the surface went from soft mash potatoes to solid ice.

We topped out onto an icy, narrow platform, that could not have been any more than three feet wide.  Dropping 50 degrees into the sliver and a cliff into east hourglass, I was careful to make very conscious movements.

Randall, crampon-less, trying to make footholds for the top out

Slowly, but surely..
Photo: Randall Stacy

View from the top
East Houglass on the left, with sliver on the right.

We transitioned as fast as we could and prepared for the descent.  With luck, we could still catch the bottom half in sun.

Randall took first drop, and with the sound of metal scrapping ice, he side slipped the first 50 feet and jump turned as the pitch lessened to 45 degrees.

I watched him ski out of sight as I sat there taking in the moment.  Sitting there on the edge of a mountain at almost 12,000 is very powerful.  I looked around reflecting on where I was and how I had gotten there.  From the hills of Vermont, to the top of one of the prominent peaks in Grand Teton National Park.  From everything I had learned in the Tetons, how my confidence & strength had grown in the mountains, and all the folks I had met.  I feeling of happiness and fulfillment swept over me, and with that I was ready to drop.

I brought myself back to my line and what I needed to do.  A fall here would carry high consequences.  Knowing that I would not fall, I stood up, stole my nerves, and dropped...

Randy

Getting ready to drop!

WOO!
Photo: Randall Stacy

As I skied out Garnet Canyon, I a feeling of calm satisfaction swept over me.  With this line checked off my list and spring rapidly descending upon these mountains, I now felt ready to leave the Tetons...until next year!

West Hourglass Couloir // March 5, 2015

Skiing in the park requires more time, preparation and planning.  Most lines are further away and generally carry higher consequences if anything were to go wrong.  With this in mind, Maria and I set out to ski one of the classic couloirs dropping off Nez Perce to the North East.

This line also happens to be the front cover of the guide book!
Photo: The Black Book, Conor Miller

Maria heading across Bradley lake

Choosing who to travel with in the backcountry is one of the most important decisions that you can make.  When you step into the backcountry with someone, you are essentially trusting your life with them, if anything were to go wrong they are the only ones that are there to help.  There needs to be an incredible trust between partners in the mountains and for this reason I am very cautious when choosing who I travel with, especially on bigger objectives.

I met Maria on Teton Pass the month before and soon found her to be an incredible partner in the mountains.  After a number of smaller days I got to know her better and came to trust and respect her as a splitboarder.
Goal Oriented, determined, smart, calm and a good communicator-not to mention, a killer splitboarder!- she was all that I looked for in a partner.

We got an early start Thursday, leaving Taggart lake trailhead by 7 and heading towards Garnet canyon.  The morning was cold, siting right around 0 F.  Maria's eyelashes were soon frosted over and I could feel ice forming on my beard.  Movement was the only way to keep warm.  The going was relatively easy, with new snow from a few days before, the skin track had plenty of traction and was well established.  We headed west, over the ridge running off Shadow peak and down across Bradley lake to the mouth of the canyon.  It was a calm, sunny day and temperatures rapidly warmed as the sun rose higher in the sky.

With visions of deep powder turns, we started our trek up the canyon.  As we made our way up the canyon and the middle Teton came into view, we were greeted with a blustery wind ripping down from the west.  My sweat immediately froze and I stopped to throw on some more layers.  Our soft skin track disappeared into a thick windslab and my thoughts of fresh blower began to waver.  Traveling as a party of two, we had moved quickly, and reached the base of the couloir in just about three hours.  Now it was time to climb it.

Setting the skin track
Nez Perce dead ahead

With the wind howling we started the skin up the apron.  However, with such a hard wind slab, we soon found it near impossible to get traction, forcing us to transition and start booting.  We hadn't expected this much wind and hoped that the walls of the couloir had protected the snow from the worst of it.

Unfortunately it hadn't.

Rounding the corner we found the inside of the couloir to not be in much better shape than the apron. 

Although the wind buffed snow sure wasn't going to make for killer snowboarding, we had come this far and we weren't turning back. 

Starting up

The middle sure was scoured...

About as far as we could make it on snow
The Grand in the background

We made it from trailhead to the top in almost five hours exactly.  And although the descent was anything but blower, it was still a super fun and picturesque line.  Hopefully Ill make it back there with better snow conditions, if not this year then next...

Maria on the descent!

25 short // March 3, 2015

Finally a storm!  The first sizable storm we have seen here in almost a month left close to 10 inches at higher elevations!  And with low temperatures, this was some of the lightest snow we've seen in the Tetons.  With plans for a one run day, we had a leisurely morning and headed towards the park around 10 am.  Named for its elevation ( 9975' ), 25 short is one of the more popular and accessible objectives within GTNP.  Having never been there, we took a wrong turn early on and turned our short approach into a long 7 mile trek, breaking trail until we found the actual skin track.  At least it was a nice day!  We dropped into turkey chute which drains out avalanche canyon.  Not the most technical of ski descents, but with Nez Perces' south face towering above us to the north, it was definitely one of the most picturesque lines I've skied.

View from the drop in, Nez Perce in the background

chris setting the skin track
avalanche canyon ahead, with 25 short to the left

beautiful weather

Chris, checking out our line

a slippery 50 foot down climb made for an exciting entrance into the chute...

Looking down my line
Photo: Chris

Found some pow!