16April09 - Relay Peak - North Lake Tahoe

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Dallas Glass, a ski patroller from Mt. Rose, and avalanche forecaster has agreed to lead us today in the mountains north of the Mt. Rose Highway (Rt. 267). This is his stomping ground and he is exited about showing off the great terrain here on the NE side of Lake Tahoe. For almost the entire tour there are commanding views of Lake Tahoe and the eastern side mountains. The groups start up from Tahoe Meadows on the Mt. Rose Highway (Rt. 267). From left to right David G., David S., Tim F., Jeff K., and Dallas (elevator) Glass.

Relay Peak south summit from just above Tahoe Meadows. "This is where we are going" Dallas explains, and before I put my hands on my poles to begin, he is gone, rocketing up the mountainside - thus he is aptly nick-named from this point on as "The Elevator". We are sking higher than we are accustomed to and will top out at around 10,000 feet on the summit ridge.

Warm meadow snow sticks to our skins. We scrape off the snow and ice and apply "gobstopper" skin wax to preclude similar build-up later in the day. Even so, Dave S. manages to break a pole attempting to knock off the heavy accumulation. Jeff and he jury rig the pole by cramming a stick in the handle and top tube which lasts for the remainder of the day's tour.

We pick a protected ridge and begin the steeper climbing to the summit ridge. Even though Dallas skis a line straight up the ridge, the rest of us mortals make occasional kick turns to lesson the pitch. Here, Tim executes a "french" kick-turn, uphill leg first while mid-conversation with David - or is this mid-mountain yoga?


Dallas on the ridge as we ascend to 10,000 feet. The north summit of Relay peak is in the background. Relay peak is so named because of the large television relay station on the north summit which was used to bounce the 1968 Squaw Valley Olympics out of the Tahoe Basin and on to the rest of the world watching beyond.


David Stepner on the summit ridge - Washoe Valley in the distance.


Dallas heads south on the ridge looking for the best line down the west slope . Lake Tahoe and Heavenly Ski resort far off in the distance.


We go down now.. wonderful spring snow - long pitch - great views. Dave getting the rythm of brand new skiis on their first downhill run.

Jeff powers through one of many perfectly executed tele turns.


and there he goes... Wait for me!

Dallas follows Jeff. Using the small crumholtz (tree tops protruding through the snow surface) as turning marks he is looking downhil and spying his next turn.

The snow softens and deepens in the small gully into which we decend.

Tim launches off the summit.

Dave S.

Whoah, checking speed before the next turn, the surface here is thinner and the skis speed up with each turn down the fall line.

Ah, some deeper snow, or not. One more turn and then a dull thud and groan (not captured on film) as Dallas colides with a crumholtz. For a secod there all we see are the bottom of his skiis facing up hill - with no movement. This is not a good sign. "Dallas, are you okay" we all yell down - almost in harmony from all corners of the slope. A groan - " I'm not realy sure" muffled by tree branches we hear back. Dave S. is closest and activates his ski patrol persona approaching the scene. Dallas has untangled himself from the tree and his bindings and is inspecting the point of impact on his shin, just below the knee. Ouch, but just a bad bruise. A bit higher and the impact would have been with Dallas's bomber hard plastic knee pads, a bit lower, and possibly a tib/fib break. We are lucky this time.

We continue the ski down, into the meadow below and flatter terrain. Skins on, we begin the slog back up for more fun.

Now the soft snow is too steep to skin up - the thin layer of fresh snow does not adhere to the firm icy layer beneath and our attempts to traverse and skin up are foiled by repeated slides away from our intended objective. We chose to strap skis to packs, and boot pack straight up, our boot toes more firmly kicking into the mountainside.

We follow a route in the shadows of a tree line so the snow is not so soft, and we are shielded from the scorching mid-day sun.

We crest the ridge, then drop in on the southeast face for some more skiing. The snow becomes very slushy as the slope flattens. We begin the long downward traverse back to the meadow below.



Dave is bored skiing on two skis so he tries it on one during this daring maneuver.

Looking back up the south east face - if you enlarge this photo you'll see our tracks - both down and up.

Again, a wonderful slope transected by our joyful down tracks - this is the east facing slope we skied second on our way back to the car.


The Google earth approximate route

15April2009 - SW Face Mt. Lincoln with Tim & Jeff

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Lake Van Norden melting out

The thermometer this morning was reading in the high teens as I sipped coffee and considered how I was going to dress for the day. Last night I had set out my gear - skins, avalanche beacon (batteries checked), shovel, avy probe, water in bladder with hose threaded into pack strap, extra gloves, hat, sunglasses, warm hat, extra sweater, chemical hand warmers, leatherman tool, flashlight, whistle, small first aid kit, spare parts for bindings, pole repair kit, duct tape, ski straps, neck gaiter, and the all important lunch. Would the wind be blowing up high? Would the sun come out and bake us while we climbed? No way to really tell. I layered up with one extra item on top and on bottom and headed out the door with Jeff and Tim. How come their packs are so small and mine is so damn heavy (not to mention the bulky camera)?

As we drove by the Van Norden meadow I could see the water pouring over the spillway and the stream melted out. Birds were flitting around the willows and there was bird song in the air - an air that has been silent of such distraction for many months.

Our plan today was to use the Sugarbowl lifts to boost us into the "sidecountry" - that terrain bordering on the ski resort, but not IN the ski resort. This way, our first climb of over 1,500 feet would actually be in a chair lift and possibly we'd use the lifts to fuel a few other laps depending on the routes that opened up to us as our journey unfolded.

This planning for this tour actually started months ago, when I first started eyeing the south west face of Mt. Lincoln from the surrounding peaks. Over the season I had skied on all the ridges surrounding Mt. Lincoln, but this south west face always seemed so foreboding, and unknown.

Here is a photo of the SW face of Lincoln as shot from Mt. Rowton - December 2008. The ski resort controlled terrain is all on the far sides of this peak. All the terrain you can see in this picture is "out of bounds". The ski route we were contemplating started right at the summit (the pointy top) and almost directly straight down - slightly lookers right of the center line. The complication here is that this face is very steep in parts and has volcanic outcroppings of rock forming exposed spines that funnel falling snow, and skiers into ever narrowing chutes. The terrain below tree line was unknown. I was not sure if there were skiable lines through there or if there would be cliffs that would stop us cold.


Here is another early reconnaissance shot of SW face taken Late December 2008. The face we intended to ski is the cloud shrouded slope to the right in this photo. The shaded slope facing left is referred to as "The Palisades" and is occasionally opened for extreme, and in-bounds skiing.


Topo map of area toured (c) Google Maps.

This topo map shows Mount Lincoln with it's four main ridges. Our plan was to ski down at the 8:00pm position just north of the steep gully in the middle of the SW face.

(c) Summer Google Earth view of Mt. Lincoln showing the ski route we took - the orange line. Start at the summit and follow the line down, then up, then across and over the ridge to exit at West Pal - the western most Palisade back within bounds at the resort...

We took the Jerome lift, then skied easily down a connector trail to the Lincoln lift. Up the chair for the millionth time this season we chatted easily - not really concerned about what lay ahead. The sky was clear, there was a mild wind, cold temperatures, and the snow was stable. A few inches of fresh, cold snow had been deposited on top of the old consolidated and baked spring snow over the past two days. Avalanche conditions were low. The route actually has a name - at least for the top part - called the PR (or Patrol Route). It is most often used to access the top of the Palisades by the Pro Patrollers to drop explosive charges back into the resort side of the ridge to release fresh snow deposits before they have a chance to unpredictably slide onto unsuspecting in-bounds skiers below. Here Tim pauses at the base of the wide summit snow field before we begin to tackle the more technical, and challenging terrain below. We've already skied 600 feet down on a firm predictable surface, cutting comfortable turns and looking around at the uncluttered beauty of this side of the mountain.

Jeff takes off near the bottom of the upper snow field, looking for an ever narrowing line between the the rocks. Rolls in the slope conceal terrain below and we proceed cautiously one at a time keeping an eye out for cliffs or sun melted rock bands that might block our way. The going is exhilarating - with consistent, but slippery, compacted snow.

A thin layer of fresh snow sits atop frozen well-consolidated base layer. The skiing is fast and consistent and we are grinning with each turn. I can barely set up the camera and the crew blows by. No one wanting to stop to chat. This is what we came for, and the chairlift ride up has left our legs strong and our egos intact. Now, down below the areas we have explored before, we cut fresh turns in the gullys rarely skied by anyone else.

The broad upper slopes come to an end, and the route now is narrower, as we are funneled down between exposed rock ribs in narrow chutes. Jeff stretches out in linked tele turns - a sign he is confident and comfortable with the skiing. If it got steeper or tighter or the sno deteriorated, his style would compress to an alpine wiggle like Tim and I use.


The rock chutes narrow...and we blast down the mountainside. This is the DOWN that drives our preparations and motivation. The cold wind is driving against our faces. The icy spray from the skier in front lingers in the air as the subsequent skier plummets by following the same line. I know I am breathing, but I can't hear my breath as the scraping sound of metal edges on hard snow overwhelms all sound but the tune I hum in my head to keep a steady rhythm in my turns. James Brown lyrics resonate in my imagination: " I feel goood.."

Then all at once, we are in the trees. The forest swallows us up, but the spacing of the trees and the angle of the slope allow us to keep skiing strongly. Down here somewhere is Onion Creek and we are drawn down and down, through the rolling terrain like an amusement park, swirling around the big trees in banked turns formed by the melting tree wells.

Without warning, the snow field in front of me disappears and is replaced by a 60 foot vertical drop to the creek below which must cascade over this cliff band running as far left and right as we can see. I edge hard, stamp on the brakes and put my arms up in the air forming a gigantic "X" with my body to alert the skiers following closely behind. I don't want to make a sound, as I know everyone is in their special happy place, but I turn around to make eye contact with each one as they come to the same conclusion as I did and stop just short of the lip. Rats - now we have to put skins on and start the uphill work.

At first, we climb comfortably up through the trees, watching for small woodland creatures, and their telltale tracks. Listening to the chickadees squabble over something we can not see in the canopy above. Tim creates a steep track - wanting to make good time on the up so we can try for more down later. Once clear of the trees however, the slope grows steeper, and the firm snow that made such a good platform for coming down challenges us to stay attached to the mountainside. First one, then all of our skins begin not to hold, as there is only a narrow edge of ski touching the steep snow slope. We opt to take off our skis and boot pack the rest of the way - the rest of the long, long way to the summit above.




Jeff and Tim put on a brave face with skis strapped to our packs - the mountain beckoning us upwards towards the sky and more adventures.

The climbing is steep going, with just a bit of toe hold for each step. We use our poles - held low for balance and belay in case a foothold fails when loaded. Each step we kick into the compressed snow and ice. Not wanting to linger too long on any one tenuous foothold we keep moving upwards from one safety spot to another.

Photo by Jeff Kasten

The climb up is steep and exposed - and even though we followed a ridge to stay clear of rock fall and potential snow slide, the precarious footing and extended steep slopes gave us all some concern. We skirt rock bands and ribs, moving around them so that each pitch of steep snow is "protected" by a rock outcropping just below. Somehow the rocks give us confidence to keep moving upwards. As if the rocks would stop us from sliding all the way to the bottom instead of first lacerating us, breaking bones, and then tossing us over their raged tops for treatment by the snow slope and rock band directly below. We're huffing and puffing, and looking around at the amazing sight of being barely attached to this huge snow slope. We move cautiously keeping three points anchored (ha!) to the snow while moving the fourth to it's next spot just within reach uphill.

Photo by Jeff Kasten and his amazing panorama Olympus camera

Lunch stop perched on a snow ledge 1/2 way up the mountainside.

Shortly after lunch we are back on the summit snow field and making decisions about what to do next. Rather than climb all the way to the top and back inbounds into the ski resort, we opt to traverse across the snow field to the ribbed ridge beyond where we can slip back inbounds in the "West Pal" gully, or even into Cornice Bowl just beyond.


Reaching high on the slope in our climb, we begin a traverse across the middle of the upper snow field so we can cross over to the north side of the ridge and ski back down in bounds of the resort. These exposed rock cliffs are the backside of the Palisades - the front of which is shown in the last picture of this post.

Here, I'm still high on the snow slope, and I'm looking down at Jeff negotiating the ever narrowing bands of snow that lead to the ridge. If you look carefully you'll see the route Tim has selected for us. Just follow the snow between the rocks to Jeff's right (Jeff is the small ant near the center of the picture), facing downhill until you reach the ridge. As you might have noticed, there are a few bushes and trees in our way - that were barely and at times NOT covered with any snow. You can see that on the south side of the ridge, the snow and persistent wind has blown all the snow away, and deposited it into cornice bowl on the Sugarbowl side of the ridge.

We ski over the ridge and survival ski down cornice bowl back in bounds and to the meadows below. This slope has not been treated as well as the others by the elements, and the deep tracks left by other skiers on warmer days present significant challenges to our downhill progress. We all check our fillings at the end of the run, after so much jarring and rattle.



Here are the Palisades as viewed from the North side - our route was down behind these minarets on the ridge. We crossed over to this side, just at what Sugarbowl calls Cornice Bowl - just to the right and out of view from this picture. This photo was taken on my way back up the lift to look for more fun with Tim for our afternoon's amusement.

12April09 - Patrol Story

I was just coming out into the sun to peel an orange on the Judah Patrol Shack porch when I noticed a guy getting off the chairlift frantically waving his arms at me. My interest piqued as I rushed down the stairs to hear better what he was shouting about and I learned that he had seen a skier hit a tree and remain prone in the snow afterward. I informed the hill boss I was going to respond to the report and as I clicked into my skis, I asked the RP if he knew the trail name and to follow me down and show me exactly where he had seen the accident. As we skied towards the accident site on Coldstream I told him to please remain at the scene as I dealt with the injured skier and someone else would take some information from him.

Skiing down through the crowded afternoon slopes I was scanning the forest’s edge for a prone skier and beginning a narrative in my head to prepare mentally for what was sure to come. At first I skied right past the injured party, as he was now standing at the side of the trail – not lying in it as I was expecting. The RP pointed out that this person standing on the side of the trail was indeed the guy he saw from the lift and I quickly scampered back up the trail announcing who I was and asking permission to assist.

As I clicked out of my skis and crossed them uphill, the mantra was sounding in my head, “Mechanism of injury, check scene safety, ABC – C-spine – look at the kill zone…”. The skier looked a bit dazed, but otherwise looked pretty much like all the other overheated skiers I had seen on the hill all day. I reached into my vest and slipped into BSI while asking “What’s your name? Tell me what happened”. “Please don’t move” I said as I put a gloved hand on his sweaty head to remind him to stand still. “My name is Andy” I heard him say. “Okay Andy, what happened here?” I responded, trying to calm my pounding heart. “No, not Andy, Randy, with an R” I heard him respond. Good… the patient in speaking – he has a patent airway. He was not panting, and did not seem to have difficulty breathing. Got my A and B out of the way. I reached down to grab a qualitative pulse and asked him if he felt pain anywhere. His pulse was strong and steady. I looked around and uphill. The RP pointed to the tree and said “That one, that’s the one he hit. He was just laying there a minute ago…”. So, no big pools of blood within sight, no blood on the patients clothes – just a head, wet with sweat. A beautiful arching track in the snow ended abruptly at the 10” tree trunk – where there was a sizable depression in the snow. C is good. Keep it moving….

“Do you remember what happened?” I asked. Randy tried to shake his head in reply after a brief hesitation, and I held firmly to his head and reminded him, “Please don’t move your head”. Okay, so far A&O by one. Not good. “Do you know where you are?” I asked. Again, another attempt to shake his head. Hmm. “Do you know the time of day?” I prompted. He looked at the sun and said with some hesitation “Afternoon?”. I thought this through quickly – Person, place, time, and event – sounds like A&O by one to me. Remember that and carry on.

“Does your head neck or back hurt” I asked – “Yes – my neck hurts” was the reply. “Were you unconscious at any time?” I asked. “hmmm – don’t recall” he said. “I’m just going to check you out here in a few other places – let me know if you feel any pain” I informed him and I began my urgent body survey. I covered his eyes and then removed my hand – eyes were P.E.R.L and tracked my finger when requested. No blood in the mouth, or pain when I asked him to open his mouth and then clench down. Immediately while palpating his head with my free hand I came across a rather large contusion at the base of his skull just above the C-spine. Upon closer investigation, it looked strawberry red, enlarged, and damp – not bloody. Okay – remember that – I’ll need it for the radio call. I reached around with my free hand and continued to palpate his neck and spine one vertebrae at a time. We were close now – very close as I had one hand on his head, and was reaching all the way around him. I could feel the heat rising through his ski parka in waves. “Any other pain where I push here?” I asked. “No” he said. On to the chest, abdomen, hips, and femurs. No pain anywhere, but he was complaining of shoulder pain. I quickly palpated and got a response at the end of his collar bone on the top of his shoulder. He could touch the opposite shoulder with that arm so I ruled out a dislocation. No blood – not in the kill zone – move on. Anything else? Anything else? Oh yeah – “let’s get some help down here” ran through my head. Time for the radio call. “Judah Hill Boss? This is David G.”. “I have a skier/tree collision here, middle aged male. A&O by one. I need O2, backboard and some help.”.. Anything else I was thinking. “ Oh yeah – where am I? “I’m skier’s right directly below the split between Golden Gate and Coldstream in the whoopdeedoos.” I said as I clicked the mic. Over the radio, I heard a reply, then another patroller chirped on-air with a specific location – “just below Judah tower 9”. I don’t recall if I requested an ambulance – but somehow that all seemed to happen – thanks to the hill boss.

Deep breath. What’s next? “Randy, remember to stand still. Help is on the way”. He asked me to wipe some sweat from his eyes and I complied. “Randy, you allergic to anything? On any medications? When did you eat last?” The questions fired out of my mouth automatically, and as he answered negatively to each one I moved on. Nothing exceptional to note or remember. “Ever injure this shoulder before?” I asked. Another “No” came as a reply. With my free hand, I palpated his right shoulder, upper arm, forearms, wrists, and hands. “Any pain here” I asked. Another “No”. Moving on to the other side – remembering about his injured shoulder just in time not to poke him right at the sore spot. Again – no other pain. Help starting arriving on scene. Time to take a step back mentally and decide what comes next. As I directed the helpers to get oxygen going at 15 LPM I instructed them we were going to do a standing backboard. The C-collar was out, sized, and applied. Oxygen mask was applied. “You okay Randy” I asked. A muffled yes came through the mask.

Someone else took Randy’s head, I moved to the back of the board, took over the head, counted to three, helpers hands under his arms clasping the backboard, we lowered him to the ground in one smooth motion. Red coats with white crosses all around me now. Faces concentrating on straps, and tape and keeping the backboard level. I looked up and saw someone taking a statement from the witness. Pen and paper in hand I was relieved to see. No need to ask someone to follow-up with that now.

Everyone knew their job and I just watched Randy and reassured him we were strapping him to a board to help get him down the hill safely. He responded he was taking an EMT class and it was very bizarre to be experiencing this from the patient’s perspective. I thought – “Good - this guy is talking, making sense, remembers things about his situation – probably just a head clunk”.

So many helpers around. I’m not alone. Very relieved. The hard part is over. As I was clicking into my skis, I looked back at Randy and saw others were finishing the packaging tasks. Then, looking forward I was trying to imagine how I was going to get this loaded sled UP over the trail’s berm. Hmm. Never really practiced that in all our drills. I looked over back to the response squad and asked Andrew to help me pull the sled up to the edge of the trail. Locomotive attached, we motored ahead and I herringboned in the horns staying slightly ahead. Then all at once, we were moving smoothly downhill. I was leading the sled – no tail roper – no problem. “Think of the patient, go slow, pick a smooth route, stay loose in the handles…” and on and on voices in my head sounded. The voices managed the sled and I picked a route as smooth as possible to the Judah FAR.

We don’t really get a chance to ski over here very often as candidates, and I had never brought a sled down the terrain park before so I was not on autopilot. Looking ahead through the snowboard features I was glad that there were groomed pathways to each side allowing me to move down the hill without too much jive. “Randy, you okay back there?” I asked. Muffled “yes” came back as we glided down.

Swooping down right to the upraised loading door, I stepped out of my skis, rotated the sled and pushed it onto the white waiting gurney. Hmm. “Had anyone alerted the clinic staff?” I wondered silently. Magically, a red coat appeared next to the gurney, and staff poured out of the clinic door. “Hi everyone..” I said. “This is Randy, A&O by 1, back of head injury, sore shoulder..” I barely blurted out and then the nurse took over. All the same questions, a quick check of the pulse, a rapid body survey and a decision. “We’re going to keep you on this backboard and transport you down to Tahoe Forest hospital” she said. “Matter of fact there is already an ambulance here and he’ll take you down right away”. Then, the EMT took over, repeated the questions, the urgent body survey, and we transferred Randy to his gurney and we wheeled him down the ramp. I barely had time to say goodbye to Randy and to grab a replacement backboard from the back of the ambulance before it roared off down the hill.

April 09, 2009 - Maggies North with Jeff K.

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Map (c) The Backcountry - Truckee, CA

Here is a map from the Backcountry Store's web guide. The usual ski route is the blue line. A link for the complete guide is included at the end of this post.


Photo (c) The Backcountry - Truckee, CA

Snow had started again last night so by the time Jeff picked me up at 8:00am this morning there was another 4-6" of fresh snow on the ground. We were both thinking of shin deep trail breaking, but a plan was a plan, so we departed as intended for Maggies - a pair of matched peaks in the southwest corner of Lake Tahoe, directly above Emereld Bay, sandwiched between Jakes, and Mt. Tallac their more familiar and far more often skied neighbors.

However, as we made idle chat in the one hour drive south and off the summit down to Lake Tahoe's shore level, the storm abated, and shaggy bits of mountain slope duff began to emerge from beneath the tree canopy replacing the carpet of white we were expecting. Our hope was that above 6,500 feet the storm was still going strong and we were still salivating for some fresh tracks. Due to the low cloud level, we could not see very high up the mountaiside, so optimism and hope drew us onward.

Leaving the car at the Bayview campground pullout, we needed to bootpack the first 25 yards over thin cover until we could find a continuous lead of snow leading us upward. We followed a state forest road breifly, then pointed our tips up the ridge and gained elevation steadily. Routefinding was complicated by the occasional clumps of exposed manzanita brush. The forest is made up of widely spaced trees in the 50 to 100 year old age range with some older and large individuals scattered about. The slope is steep almost from the start and the 4" of fresh snow over the old compacted frozen corn made for careful edging.

The effort these trees have made to survive in the harsh environment is incredible - in this case the tree literally growing around and encompassing a boulder has allowed it to make a firmer grasp on the sandy soil - permitting this monsterous tree to survive the wind and elements.


We passed right, high and above Granite Lake on our way to the saddle between the two Maggies peaks. As we climbed a sound grew above the pounding of my heart and regular puffing of my breath. It was the errie deep thumping of a grouse trying to attract a mate. Even on the sparsley wooded slope we could not pinpoint the exact location of the bird - the sound seemed to come from all directions at once.



At last we achieved the saddle - but in the soupy haze of the wet storm we could not see into the Desolation Wilderness area beyond the ridge, or to Mt. Tallac, or even to Lake Tahoe behind us and below. We were traveling through a hazy, blowing bubble of grey mist, swirling around the boulders and ridgetop rock fields. At this point the snow was dropping so steeply on the east side that we needed to take off our skis to navigate the ridge. The sun had melted out deep pockets adjacent to the rocks, but the recent storm had blown a thin crust of snow and ice over the gaps. We stepped gingerly along - anxious to put our skis on again. In this picture, which is protecting which...is the boulder protecting the tree, or has the tree blocked the boulder from the crushing force of ice and wind, allowing it to persist on the otherwise pulverized ridge?


Looking over the ridge of south Maggies on our way up the hill. Somewhere in here lay our path home, and I carefully studied the north facing slope to look for an open enough area to make the run down.


Jeff trudges up the ridge from the saddle. Behind him is the North Maggies and swirling in the mist even further in Jakes Peak.

At last, there is no more hillside above us and we have reached the summit. A large cornice protects the southeast couloirs from our view, but we both know there are dramatic ski routes down that steep side of the mountain.

Even with the cloud cover, my skiis absorb enough sunlight energy to melt the snow on them as we eat lunch on the summit.

Jeff looks about, turns skiis downhill and we harvest the fruits of our labor. The north facing slope above Granite Lake, seemingly crowded with trees from our scouting on the way up yields wonderful ski lines on the way down - trees perfectly spaced to allow our passage. Here the wind, and sun have not pummeled the delicate snow cover and we make joyous turns. We carefully hug the ridge making those left turns stick hard so as not to plummet over the edge on the even steeper side of the ridge.


Run silent, run deep. More great turns on the way down to Granite Lake.

The conditions deteriorate as we loose elevation and by the time we get to Lake Level, we have breakable crust and protruding willows to contend with. We make the decision to head down, instead of up for another lap, and circumnavigate the lake, not sure of its ice cover condition. The storms builds as we ski - blowing the icy crystals in our face.

Panorama photo from Jeff Kasten

Once back in the woods beyond the lake, we make slow, lazy turns on the lower angle slopes and wind our way back to the car. But wait - Jeff thinks a better slope can be found to skiers left and we turn to investigate. The last 100 yards is free of trees and protruding rocks, and at a wonderfully steep pitch. Only problem is it terminates directly on the road. No room for a swooping stop...we must ski down and surgically halt - or be stopped short by the asphalt barrier beyond. Down another 600 feet, you can see the wayers of Emerald Bay beyond the road.


Click here for a ski tour guide for this trip

08April 09 - Rowton Peak - April snowstorm

After more than a week of bluebird days, melting corn snow, and temperatures in the 50's an April snowstorm blew in with an attitude starting last night. In less than 30 minutes, the clear day became foggy, temperature dropped 25 degrees, and fresh snow decended upon the summit. This morning, the snow was still falling so Jeff and I opted for a ski close to home - Rowton Peak - just east of Serene Lakes. Diane dropped us off at the trailhead and our intention was to ski a loop up and over Rowton Peak for a few laps on the south side, then back home again before lunch. The big picture was onscured, but close-up the forest was beautiful. We climbed from lake level staying just to the north of the ridge and the cold wind that ripped across it. To our right, the mountain dropped off into the foggy abyss of the American River Gorge. Past trips up this ridge informed us to stay just below the ridge and follow it to the summit. From there, a seemingly endless set of runs awaited us on the south facing bowls. Visibility was soupy, and at times we were not sure if we were skiing down, across, or up the slope - which lead to some spectacular falls when a turn downhill turned into an actual turn uphill into a windrow of blown snow. Whoopie.

An April skiing Fool ripping up the south slope. We skied down, following the mountain's folds, staying up on the ridges, avoiding the steep drainages. Down and down we went - one rib to the next, out of the alpine zone and into the big trtees below. Down some more in the trees, swooping around the big trunks avoiding the melted tree wells, and seeking the right downhill line leading to the next turn until we were stopped short by a cliff band running across the whole mountainside, buried deep in the forest. Skins on, and up we go again. No sense in jumping off a perfectly good snow slope into something unknown below the rocks - besides, how were we ever to get back up the stupid cliff if we continued down.


Going down again - or was it up - or across? The flat light was playing tricks on us while we were above treeline - so we aimed for rock outcroppings, small trees (crumholtz) and the larger trees which dotted the mountainside - just to give us some speed perspective and to keep oriented to up and down.

A frosted tree greeted us on the ridgeline - a sturdy senital standing guard on the ridge - with views to the north and the south. Sap chilled and thrown back into winter mode by this late season storm.

Ice rime on the long needles.

Up again after another lap down the adjacent fold along the ridge. We could stay here all day and not ski the same line twice.

At last, we drop on the west side of the ridge and aim our skis for the road and home. Following the streams and forest openings, we were back on Soda Springs road in 25 minutes - called Diane on the cell and were home for lunch.