Big Mountain Skiing is elusive.

where is the skiing?

     Big mountain skiing is elusive.  There is no other way to look at it.  I recently returned from Alaska where I attempted to ski the South Face of Denali with my friend Dan Corn.  Our attempt was just that, an attempt. 

South Face of Denali

     The beauty of big mountain skiing is that even if you cannot ski your objective you experience skiing in a away that is completely different then simply hitting the slopes at the local resort or the quick backcountry strike.  You wake up with a job to do and your every decision is based on the work at hand and the safety that is required to pull it off.

     The thing about expeditions is that the job starts when you commit to the objective.  You train you body to be fit and resilient, you hone your skiing to be precise, smooth and powerful, and you train your mind to be present in the moment (a critical aspect of expedition life when you have a beautiful family at home). 

     Our expedition started May 11, my 40^th birthday, a fitting gift to myself.   The start was typical Alaskan style, hurry up and wait.  The wind would not allow us to fly but we had to be present at the airstrip in case the wind settled down.   Flying is one of those experiences in life where you have no control, unless you have your own plane, you pay your money and take your chances.  You have to have faith that the pilot is not suicidal and that the plane can handle the load that you squeeze into it.  Crashes happen, in fact earlier in the season there was a Sesna lawn darted into the Kahiltna glacier.  No one was hurt but that is not how you would like to start an expedition.  Our wait was only one day, which gave us a chance to stimulate the local economy, passing the time with burgers and beer and more beer.  Perhaps the flight service gets a kick back from the Fairview.

Megamid Livin

     Like I said before the expedition really starts once you commit and an injury could alter your trip.  Four days before ours was to start Dan was skiing in the Talkeetna mountains doing a first descent.  While skiing back to the car isothermic snow caused an unplanned pole plant right into a buried stump and subsequently a shoulder separation.  Dan, being young and strong, figured by the time we are actually skiing the steeps he would be healed. So once we landed we packed our sleds and started off.

mmmm food!

     Our stradegy was simple, approach up the East Fork of the Kahiltna glacier set a base camp and acclimatize with a few scouting missions then climb the S. Face and ski it.  The problem with big mountain skiing is that the conditions and the weather always trump stradegy.  The weather was perfect, too perfect, it was warm and the S. Face was getting baked.  We needed a storm to coat the face and by us some time to acclimatize.  The forecast was for more sun and increased winds from the north changing to the south. 

     The writing was starting to be on the wall as hints of blue ice started to appear.  We had been on the glacier for only four nights but it was time to try.   We packed up and started out.  Our thoughts were to at least scout the face and if we could go for the summit and ski it we would.  Our base camp was at 11,300 feet and we both felt pretty good there.  We skinned up to the shrund and strapped our skis to Speed 40L packs and started the climbing.  The climbing was good which did not bode well for the skiing.  Packs were heavy with our bivy gear and skis strapped on but the firm snow under foot was secure.  After about twelve pitches we chose a bivy site to put up out Firstlight tent.  When you are climbing steep snow and ice the bivy options are simple, you pick a reasonably protected spot and start to dig snow and chip ice until you can set up a tent.  That is why you chose the smallest foot print tent you can fit into and the Firstlight was just that.  The problem is without x-ray vision you never know when you may encounter rock.  We hit rock, but we had enough of a ledge to call it good.  With the tent over hanging into space we crawled in and brewed up.

Room with a view!

going up!

  I am an alpinist, I say that because when I day dream my mind wanders to far away lands with big mixed faces and blue skies.  Here I was in Alaska and the conditions were perfect for climbing yet I was torn.  The objective was to ski Denali but the conditions were prime for climbing.  Dan and I talked about bailing on the skiing and taking advantage of the prime climbing conditions.  The reality was 60 degree snow was all Dan’s shoulder could handle, terrain any steeper and he would have limited strength.

      By morning we were both feeling the reality set, 60 degree slopes were best skied with softer snow not crust.  Our packs were heavy with our bivy kit and the snow was crust or ice so we decided we needed to change our plan and go around to the West buttress and ski with out a bivy kit and maybe if we were lucky we would get some snow to ripen the conditions. 

     We started down.  The first pitch off our bivy I belayed Dan as he skied but to call it skiing would be to say pond skimming is skiing, yes you have skis on and you are moving but skiing is more then equipment and motion it is rythem and flow.  Dan would hop turn and scrap awhile then hop and scrap again.  When skiing no fall terrain you have three options, first is to ski and not fall the next is to ski with a belay and last is to put your tail between your legs and rappel.  The sound alone curled my tail between my legs.  Over the next 6 rope lengths we rapped.  V-threads and one stubby screw were left as anchors.

     Finally the slope dropped to 56 degrees and that was all it took to put our ropes away and click into our skis.  With forty-five pound packs on and steep firm snow we were not ripping it up like our dreams had envisioned but we were skiing and that put a grin on our faces.

     Our end run around the Kahiltna peaks and up to the 14,200’ camp on the West Buttress route went smooth and we installed.  At first there was a bit of an adjustment time for to get use to people.  Our time up the East Fork was true wilderness now we were in the thick of the climbing season with many aspiring summiteers.  As we let our bodies adjust to the thinner air and prayed for snow all we got was a sun tan and wind burned. 

     Ultimately we had our skis on for about 65 miles and 15,000 vertical feet of up and 15,000’ of down but we only skied 1,000 feet of the South face and we never went to the top.  

     The hardest part of going home is the questions that race through your mind “what if we…” there are no answers but without the questions there would be no insight and learning for the next time.