Invisible Line

On Saturday I decided to run up Mahogany Gulch and take a look at a line I see every day on my way home to Moore. The Invisible Line runs from just below the summit of Invisible Mountain and angles slightly lookers left down the South face. (click to see route)

The snow in the canyon was set like concrete but as soon as I got to the sun covered face it turned pretty mushy and started sticking to my skins I applied a generous coat of Glop Stopper but you’d have thought I’d greased up with rubber cement, this product has been a lifesaver in the past but for some reason it only compounded the problem here.
I lashed my skis to my pack and started booting. The going was pretty un-fun , with a snowpack consisting of a layer of corn/mush over breakable crust, over about 10 inches of sugar. I lost a bucket of sweat on that face and was sorely tempted to traverse out to the ridge where I knew the snow would be set hard, I didn’t want any surprises when I dropped in to ski however and continued on. The LRR is Highly changeable, Eric and crew climbed the same aspect the day before, 10 miles as the crow flies up range and had pretty nice climbing/skiing.

Minimal bushwhacking and great rock formations make the hike from the gulch all the way to the top immensely interesting. This gate near the top of the line is just more of the same. The upper 200 yards of the line drop at a 40 degree angle and then ease up to about 30 till the apron where it turns to a very mellow 20.

I was tempted to stop short of the summit and just ski the line but it was only a hop away and easy skinning . Big mistake, I hit two base shredders just below the top that will devour a stick of P-tex like a truck driver mows thru a Slim-Jim.

From the summit looking up range, we’ll be skiing a long season!

Flyboy montage

After a relatively calm winter last year, Flyboy saw a return to normal this season. High winds and a worrisome snowpack joined forces in a scheme to make us better skiers or maim us for trying.

Limestone Landing on Flyboy. 4-4-11

Evidently some skill and know-how is needed for shooting video on the go, for starters; a wide-angle lens and a modicum of skiing ability will take one far beyond the illustration below.
For me, ski crashes usually have some degree of caveman-comedic value akin to fart jokes or campaign promises and this one made us laugh long and loud.




Apologies for the excessive beeping noise on the video but apparently I cuss a lot when I’m in pain. In fact, I edited out at least two minutes of caterwauling and Navy talk while I searched the brush for my #$*!^% camera.

The turn around

On Saturday, Jeff and I made an attempt to climb Sacajawea peak, we knew the weather wasn’t going to be great but the day fit both our schedules. We split up the climbing gear on Friday night and got a 3am start the next morning. From the trailhead, we followed old snowshoe tracks on a more direct approach than the standard route all the way to about 9,500’ where we lost the trail in deep snow. It was impossible to tell if the snow-shoer’s made it to the ridge or summit.

The weather was mostly overcast with a little snow falling but there wasn’t even a whisper of wind. After losing the snowshoe track, we waded several hundred yards up low angled snowfields through thigh deep powder and the ridge came into view as it started getting light. When we left the trees behind the snow changed from bottomless powder to wind affected slabs with some mild trapdoor ugliness but we made better time in the less deep snowpack. From about 200 yards below the ridge I spotted a snow-dervish twisting in the wind and that was the first real indication we were going to get weather.

Still below the ridge we crossed a few sections of snow that settled loudly under us but suspected the stuff on the ridge would be packed solid, we were wrong. We made good time on the ridge and were still optimistic even though the wind and weather continued to get much worse. As we were crossing a large snowfield just below the ridgeline at point 10,632’ the entire patch collapsed under our weight and without saying a word, we both knew our summit attempt was over.

We decided to continue on and at least get a look at the class 4 sections between Chicken-out saddle and the summit but as the wind picked up the visibility crapped out completely. We turned around on Chicken-out ridge and headed down.

All in all, it was supremely fun to be on the mountain and although it’s tough to turn back on a peak neither of us felt cheated.

Jeff wading up the snow fields


Jeff on the ridge before the weather changed



I shot a short crummy video that panns from the ridge to Borah and back to Jeff as he descends toward the tree line through high winds and blowing snow.

Another New Years post.

A small mob of us spent a few days 15 miles past the end of the road in the Lead Belt cabin plundering the pure and driven. Too much cheer made for a slow start on a new year but Bottle flu holds little sway on a powder day.

Utah October 7-17th 2010

Susan and I returned to Utah for more canyoneering, climbing and desert rambling. Severe thunderstorms had filled and flooded all the slot canyons with freezing water and hail stones so we made our way to Page Arizona where we spent the better part of 4 days hanging out waiting for things to dry out.

Horseshoe Bend near Page


Glen Canyon Dam


Susan and the night sky at Valley of the Gods



Susan at the second pitch belay on Jimmy Durante Snow Canyon


On October 16th we geared up for a climb up Lady Mountain in Zion National park. We met a guy named Steve just below the first pitch who was making his third attempt on the peak. Susan and I stashed our rope and Steve dumped some of his gear, we teamed up and five hours later we were on top.

Upper Zion from half way up Lady Mt.

Sawtooths August 5-8th

In late July, Riann, Susan and I tramped a grueling 10 mile loop to Alice Lake and back during the hottest part of the day. None of us had been there before but I knew I’d have to return for a photo or two. Two weeks later, Susan and I stayed a stormy night on the lake during a longer loop hike. Here are a few shots from a trip where the weather behaved splendidly.

El Capitan peak over Alice Lake.



Cascades near camp below Alice lake



Afternoon Storm building

This little thunderstorm was a harbinger of things to come and during the night we got hit with the real thing. At about 2am, we got to witness a short but frighteningly intense storm. With the first clap of thunder, I gathered my gear and sprinted to the lake. I shot three photos hoping to catch a nice ground strike but the bolts of lightening were so close and fat they completely overexposed my cameras sensor. When the rain started, it came in buckets and I ran for the tent too late. First the rain, then it hailed while lightening flashed constantly for about 15 minutes.




Lightening, rain and mist

I got several photos of cloud to cloud lightening as the storm rolled out the cirque and down the canyon. It's intensity died almost as quickly as it started. (click to enlarge)




Alice Lake at Dawn.
The next morning I woke up at first light to the sound of light rain falling on the tent. Disappointed, I listened for several minutes thinking I was out of luck on getting a photo, but When I unzipped the tent I was happily surprised.



Sawtooth reflection.
On the small lake below Alice Lake.

Mt. Church N. Face ski 6-19-10

Here are a few photos of an impromptu ski trip off of Mt. Church on Saturday. I’d been planning it and waiting for the weather to settle for nearly a month but Brando ditched work immediately when I invited him along at the last minute.

Three hours of driving took us to the end of the road in the east fork of Upper Pahsimeroi and after another three hours of hiking through heavy timber we arrived at the 9700’ mouth of the massive Mount Church cirque. We set up camp near a large tarn just past the mouth and enjoyed what was left of the day, watching evening shadows chase the light up our impending route.

At 4am I started melting snow for coffee and extra water, we ate and got dressed in a very leisurely fashion and then started climbing at 05:28, three hours later we were eating lunch on the summit.

Skinning into the mouth of the cirque, Mount Church dominates the background. We set up camp just beyond.


Brandon puts the finishing touches on his sleeping gear. The tarn, viewed just below his left knee is starting to show signs of melting.


Climbing out of the shadows. I was only able to skin to about 10,500’ The recent snow left a thin veneer of crust on the surface and even my ski crampons wouldn’t bite in. Those same conditions made for easy boot-packing though.


Navigating the ridge. I’ve been up this ridge enough times to know how steeply it drops off the SW side so I was a little worried about topping out on an overhanging cornice, and although the ridge is riddled with them, we lucked out.



Brandon nearing the top. He was super fit and stoked on this, his second trip to the top. He and I teamed up for a standard-route-winter climb a few years earlier that turned into a 17 hour truck to truck epic march in high winds and bad snow.


Ahhh, the summit! Hitting the eject button on my pack was pretty gratifying, we spent 45 minutes on top taking in the scene and eating lunch. A 3mph breeze coming out of the west was welcome company after the stifling conditions on the East face.


Brandon, Big Stepping just below the top. He’s not a skier but made very good time coming down.


Descending the North face. We climbed and descended the same
route Marc Hanselman
Did on May 17th The skiing was amazing! The little pinwheels in this photo had come off the day before and were a little crusty but I only had to ski through a short section of them. Definitely another Hard to reach Idaho classic ski!

Diamond Peak 5-14-10

A few photos from Friday on Diamond Peak. This was my second try at skiing it; the first time was a few years ago in early March with Steve. We ran into bad conditions on the face and continued on after abandoning the boards pretty low on the ridge. For me, Diamond is one of the safest winter or spring 12er to climb but I always suspected skiing its East face would be the absolute opposite.

On Thursday, my climbing partner had to bail at the last minute and I decided it would be too risky to stick with an East face descent without a lifeline and I was more than a little relieved to set my sights on the South face.

I was able to drive all the way to the trail head and after a short hike, spent a comfortable night on the ridge at 9,300’ The climb to the top wasn’t what I’d expected, a lot of the snow was punchy (sometimes all the way to my waist) and I was pretty worked by the time I hit the top. The weather couldn’t have been better though, mostly sunny and totally windless. I recuperated for about an hour and then set off down the huge and wide open South face. The snow conditions were as good as the weather and I made effortless turns in perfect corn on an aspect that is probably less than 40 degrees. Easily the best ski down any of the 12ers I’ve yet had!


Camp on the ridge below the East face.


Evening light on alluvial ridges below camp

Just below the summit from the East ridge.

On the top.



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Close call on DBE / 5-19-09

The iconic North face of Devil’s Bedstead East is becoming a benchmark for Idaho ski mountaineering. No surprise, it has all the makings; remote, steep, tall and hulking.
Brad Chilton, David Scott and I overnighted about a mile from the trailhead on the 18th of May. In the morning, we headed out under a star studded sky and made slow progress in mushy snow till we were able to pull on our ski boots and start skinning at about 8,800’. From there we made good time until it got too steep for the skis. From there we slogged in crampons up steep breakable crust till we made it to the North East ridge where we got a break from the exhausting crust by climbing on the super exposed edge of windblown cornices draping the immense void of the East face. To complicate things, our bluebird day had deteriorated to occasional snow showers and gusty winds. I was supremely confident however and certainly no stranger to climbing along steep cornices in bullying breezes, so when the whole works came out from under me, I was reduced to staring in cow-eyed stupidity as tons of snow dropped several yards onto a steep ramp at the top of the face. When it hit, the snow covering the ramp avalanched and the whole hullabaloo plunged down the slope for about 120 feet where it slammed into a steep buttress forming the right side of a choke point that spilled over the massive cliff face. The rolling noise dominated even the wind as the snow rocketed out into space. After it was over, I was mesmerized by the scene, 40’ of cornice in front of me and 25’ behind me had sheared off and unzipped right between my feet, taking 12 of my footprints with it. A valuable but embarrassing lesson. I can’t think of a scenario where one can come so close to dying without getting a scratch.

David looks at the summit and our ski line. Here, we had the choice of climbing over rocks in our ski boots or punching up breakable crust. We made our way over to the ridge where the going got much easier.



Brad climbing the North East Ridge just below the site of the cornice collapse


The awesome East face of Devils Bedstead East in the distance. The accident happened a couple hundred feet below the summit on the right side ridge. This photo was taken while on a failed attempt at climbing Brocky peak with Brad in 2007.

This one has been on my “winter list” for a few years now but weather, conditions, laziness and timing have stymied all previous opportunities. This season has been plagued by those same obstacles and although I missed winter by a week, the weather on the approach was far from spring-like.

End of the line. I parked at the turn off to Wildhorse canyon and snowmachined the 10or so miles to the trailhead. This photo really shows my style of riding, always stuck or about to be stuck. It also shows a few of the feeble layers in the snowpack.



Breaking weather. I set up camp in what felt like a safe spot on the lower slopes of the north face. (visibility was only a couple hundred feet) The wind blew a steady 20+ mph but died off as the clouds started to break and then quit completely by midnight. Hyndman peak just visible through the clouds



10 years ago, I trusted the weatherman about as much as an army recruiter but these days forecasting is usually spot on and I wasn’t surprised at all to wake up and see it bluebird.



I got to the summit at 11:00am after a slow and easy 3 hour skin. Zero wind and warm sunshine made it hard pretty to leave the view. This photo shows the true highpoint left on the ridge but there sure as hell aren’t any good ski lines off of it.



I’d hoped to ski down the large gully on the west face but an enormous avalanche had flushed out most of the snow and deposited it in massive pile on the plateau at 9,600’. I checked out a chute on North West face that had a heavy blanket of blown in snow. However, the top 3rd was a rock strewn 55* and the bottom had a definite terrain trap look about it so I settled on eeking my way down the West face through a minefield of boulders in 4” of new snow over hardpack. The turns were effortless even after a long pair of days. Hope that’s not the last powder day of the season!

The Hunt is On! March 2010

So many consecutive 40-ish degree days can only mean Spring is rearing it's ugly head and our days of deep and soft are coming to an end. The powder snob in me has mostly learned to clam up when my non skiing comrades start pissing on about the mud, the new snow, the cold, etc. The hunt is on for those ever dwindling stashes of hold out freshies.
After a relatively wind-free winter, those westerly breezes are saving the day. Here are a few photos of the last 4 days on the Southern tip of the Pioneers.


Monday, conditions were pretty demoralizing on the way up Fly-boy ridge but the stuff blown into Recovery bowl was worth several laps.


We remotely triggered a good portion of the top of this bowl two days earlier and skied through the debris while it was still soft. On the second lap the snow had built up again and we decided to find safer snow. Some time that night it let go again blasted all the way to the bottom. the skiing was still good near the edges on Tuesday


Wednesday, Sticking the landing on Taco

Thursday, Eric Taking a well earned break on lap 7 at the top of Chicken Run. The wind seemed to have no influence on his mood.

Mt. Corruption 5-1-2007

Star trails over Mt. Corruption. (this is an 18 minute exposure)Shot from Ferd's Cabin.














Brad and Brandon descend the ridge back toward camp, The Lost river range dominates the background. Mt. Borah's East ridge climbs the upper left side of the photo.













Camp at 10,400 feet on the South West flank of Corruption.

Corona Arch 10-5-09

Susan and I spent enough time skulking around Moab’s climbing locals to learn a few of their best kept secrets including hidden slot canyons, cool climbs and weird stuff to do when you’re bored. The Corona Arch rappel fit into the last category and although we weren’t bored we couldn’t pass up a chance to see it from the top down.

A short hike over vast terraces of unspoiled sandstone lead to this partially freestanding arch, the opening is 140’ by 105’ and the climb to the top requires an easy but crazily exposed class climb protected by 7 or 8 pitons. We dim-wittedly left our second rope in the truck and I paid the penalty by having to repeat the climb sans cord.


After the rappel, we tied back in and turned the setup into a giant rope swing.

Susan roped up at the top of the class 4 section.

Skiing Hyndman Peak

On January 27, 2008. Steve, Cassie, Eric, Susan and I made the hike into the Pioneer Mountains with the hopes of climbing and Skiing Idaho’s 9th highest peak. An intense winter storm followed us all the way to the trailhead and by the time we got to the yurt, 10” of new snow had fallen, by the next morning more than two feet of new powder put an end to our plans. The avalanche cycle following the storm made travel outside the hut pretty treacherous. We stayed two more nights letting the snow settle and then made our way back out to the truck. On March 18th, we returned and made it to the top on the following day and skied back in weather that once again shut down the mnountains.
Steve and Cassie climbing above the saddle, Old Hyndman Peak in the background.

The Pioneer Yurt at night.