My buddy Zahan was once again the partner of choice.  At maybe 5’9” tall and weighing in at 135 pounds (soaking wet with a hard-on,) Z is an aerobic machine.  His willingness to break trail from pre-dawn to dusk combined with solid mountain skills make him one of the greatest ski mountaineering partners imaginable.  We’ve spent many days in the mountains together and will hopefully spend many more.  With plans for some really big days in the Tetons when conditions come together, we thought that following a descent of the Apocalypse Couloir with a climb and descent of the Son of Apocalypse Couloir would make for good training.

Crossing the lake with gorgeous morning light on the far shore.

Sunday’s route took us across Phelps Lake and up through the thin forest on the east slopes of Prospector’s.  Sunrise lit up the lower forest while we skinned across the frozen lake and we were granted stunning views of Albright Peak as the morning’s inversion fog burned off.

Albright Peak pops out of the fog in the background.

Winding our way up through the forest, we made good time getting to the ridgecrest and the notch above the top of the Apocalypse.  The couloir ends about 200’ below the ridgecrest, with a steep rockband keeping it from topping out.

The inevitable summit shot--AJ and Zahan, about the enter the Apocalypse Couloir.

With our huge snowpack this year, we found snow covering the rock and were able to downclimb most of it with the aid of a fixed-line that had been anchored to a tree at the top.

AJ down-climbs the entrance to the Apocalypse Couloir.

Midway down, the fixed-line turned into a rappel anchor, so we rapped a short pitch and then down-climbed through a choke to the point where we could step in to board and skis.

Z approaches the bottom the rappel into the Apocalypse.

We made turns down the entrance shaft to the starting zone of the couloir, where I built a quick snow anchor to belay Z while he ski-cut the top.

Z descends the entrance shaft to the Apocalypse. Skinny!

Nothing moved after two aggressive ski cuts, not even sluff.  It felt like cheating to stand at the top of a 50-degree couloir with knee-deep, stable powder in it!  It’s a rare thing–usually the snow is firm and chalky, maybe even crusty, when conditions are safe enough to take on these objectives.  Z gave me the thumbs-up for the first pitch, so I dropped-in to floaty, steep bliss–effortless turns at high speed through magic snow.  Totally awesome.

Fat turns in the start of the Apocalypse Couloir. Wagner Custom just built a new board for me that rides like a dream--a bit shorter for tight spots, and it's super stiff. It powers through thick snow and chunder, and carves into firm snow like cat claws on curtains.

Z fires turns down the Apocalypse.

We leap-frogged our way down the couloir to the choke 1500’ below, where there is typically a 40’ water-ice down-climb, and discovered that it was completely filled-in and skiable!  A bit firm from perpetual sluffing, to be sure, but we were able to ski it clean and make our way to the canyon bottom without having to step out of our gear–again, a rare thing.

Lunchtime. Z catches his breath after skiing the 3000' couloir. (The exit is visible in the background.)

After a brief lunch break in the sun we put our boards back on our packs and pointed ourselves up the Son of Apocalypse Couloir.  The lower half was great climbing–firm and fast.  But as we got higher the snow got deeper until we were breaking crotch-deep trail to the top of it.  Brutal.  We would each take a turn at the front, kicking steps for maybe 5 minutes before stepping out the way and getting a reprieve from plowing the track uphill.  Another quick break in the sun on the ridge allowed us to recover a bit before turning ourselves back downhill for another fantastic run.  The ball-deep trail-breaking on the way up translated to fat, fast powder turns descending the top half of the couloir.

Fast turns down the Son of Apocalypse Couloir--part 2 of one hell of a day.

Leap-frogging again, we made huge, mach-speed turns down to the midway choke and our return to chalky snow.  1000’ of skiing down sluffed snow and old avalanche debris brought us back to the bottom of the canyon and an hour of cross-country travel back to the truck.  (I remain convinced of the superiority of approach skis for snowboard mountaineering–the side-hill skinning and rolling travel would have been awful on a splitboard, but on the Wagner approach skis it felt cruiser.)

I will remember our day on the Apocalypse and Son as one of my most successful, fun days in the mountains.  Amazing snow, mind-blowing terrain, 5000′+ of skiing, and a partner with the skills and stoke to make it happen with style.  Life in the Tetons is good.

Skinning under a full moon is cool.  With headlamps off, shadows are so long and the muted glow reflecting off the snow provides a surreal lighting for travel through the lowland approach to the high peaks.  Partners are merely black silhouettes and the skin track is an ill-defined line across the crusty re-frozen snow surface.  Traveling across Bradley Lake and through the forest, we spent the pre-dawn hours quietly skinning through this dreamscape into Garnet Canyon.

As morning approached, the moon set and we were forced to turn on our headlamps for the last hour before sunrise, climbing up out of the forest and into the glacial basin of the Meadows in the canyon.  We stopped for a morning snack in the Meadows as the sun barely lit the eastern horizon and then bared our teeth for the icy, slick-as-snot-on-a-marble climb from the Meadows up into the North Fork.  The slope between the Meadows and the North Fork is about 35 degrees and faces south, so it bakes all day and then freezes overnight.  Skin tracks that get put in during the heat of the day get burnished to a high gloss with the water content in the surface snow and then freeze like glass.  Having forgotten to bring the ski crampons, we alternated between skinning and bootpacking as the snow conditions demanded on the climb up.  Skis on feet, skis on packs, skis on feet, skis on packs.

Mark below the North Ridge and the NW Couloir. Looks pretty thin. Anybody need to check their email?

The sun rose as we cruised through the moraines in the North Fork and we were able to make good time getting to the Lower Saddle.  We could see the BIG red duffel bag with Exum’s high camp in it as we scrambled up the scree towards the base of the North Ridge of the Middle.  Surmounting a series of benches, we soon gained a view of the route and quickly ascertained that it wasn’t going to happen on this day.  There wasn’t a shred of snow on the ridge, and the access to the NW Couloir was dry as well.  Standing in the shadow of the Middle with a chill wind cranking over the ridge and no harnesses or rock gear in our packs, none of us felt inclined to tackle 2000′ of 5th-class rock.  So we punted and decided to seek out the Pinnochio Couloir, a 1000′ line from the base of the North Ridge down to the glacier below.

With a narrow entrance that goes at ~55 degrees, the Pinnochio is a super aesthetic line that we got a good look at while skinning through the moraines an hour earlier.

Maybe this route will work?

Finding the top proved to be harder than we expected; after scrambling up and then downclimbing a few short pitches of slabby rock on misguided routes, we finally crested the Pinnochio Pinnacle and gazed down into the couloir.  My 25-meter strand of rope barely reached down to the notch at the top of the couloir, but with a brief body-wrap rappel we each made our way down to the entrance.

Mark sits back onto the day's first rappel, with the Grand Teton in the background.

Evan raps off the Pinnochio Pinnacle.

I cleaned off the cornice at the top while Mark and Evan found a rock horn to sling the rope around for our second rappel of the day, getting beyond a rocky pinch and into the couloir proper.  Going first, I found chalky powder in the couloir with excellent edging, which felt good in what seemed a bit like an elevator shaft.  55-degrees and barely wider than the length of my board, the Pinnochio Couloir was pretty sporty!

Snowboarding on rappel--not as easy or fun as it might look. But on a side note, this was my first day in the alpine with my new Wagner Custom board. Totally amazing--it's so lively, and with a bit more sidecut it makes tight turns in this kind of terrain feel easy. Awesome. Thanks guys!

After passing a particularly narrow pinch a hundred feet down, things opened up and I found really fun riding down to the mid-couloir rockband.  I pulled off to the side and yelled up for Mark to ski down to me.

Mark skis the upper pitch of the Pinnochio Couloir.

We poked around a bit for a route to downclimb while Evan made his descent to us, ultimately deciding to pull the rope out again for one last rappel past the 15′ band of rock that blocked our path.  Mark slung  another horn, we rapped past the rock, and then ripped dreamy turns out of the fan of the couloir and down the glacier to the moraines below.  The sun felt pretty damn good after spending a couple of hours in the shadow of the Middle, so we took the opportunity to eat a big lunch before exiting the mountains.

Evan skis across the glacier to the moraines after exiting the Pinnochio Couloir. Pretty skinny up top!

AJ and Mark soaking up the sun on the moraines.

More challenges awaited us on the way out, mostly in the variable and shallow snow conditions that we have this winter at mid- and low-elevations in the Tetons, but we eventually made it back down to the lake and cranked out the last two miles to the parking lot.  Though it was disappointing to get turned back from summiting the Middle, getting to ride the Pinnochio was pretty sweet and it was a fantastic day to be in the mountains with good friends.  Ultimately, the most disappointing part of the day was arriving back at the parking lot to find that somebody had taken the beers we stashed under the car to keep them cold!  So lame!

And so, we wrapped up the day with the standard trip to Dornan’s for a pitcher and some quesadillas while gazing back up at the Range through the gigantic bay windows behind the bar.  Another decent consolation prize.

It occurred to me as we moved to high camp.  I was guiding a climb of Denali’s West Buttress; we were carrying huge packs, moving REALLY slowly up the ridge in sub-zero temperatures.  “Wouldn’t it be nice to move fast with a light pack?  I’ll bet the Tetons are gorgeous right now.  The trail into Garnet might even be clear.”

A dry initial approach

So, 2 days after I got home Jake and I left my dog with a friend and headed up into the Park. We figured the Grand Teton would still have plenty of snow on it for a late-season descent, but weren’t totally sure about the approach—should we bring skins?  Should I bring my approach skis?  Lupine Meadows was dry and hot when we pulled in, the smell of sage strong in the air, and snow line looked way up there.  Jake convinced me that I should bring my approach skis anyway, just in case.

Walking in sneakers with light packs we flew up the trail into Garnet Canyon, finally changing to boots and skis for the last half-mile to the Meadows. It made for a quick half-mile, though. While I shoveled a platform and pitched the tent, Jake dug down a few feet to find the creek.

Going to bed.

We ate hoagie sandwiches as the stars started to appear and slid into our sleeping bags on a lovely, warm night.

The climb up to the Grand from the Meadows was smooth, with the exception of a brief route-finding snafu.

Jake on the Teepe Glacier at sunrise.

AJ climbs to the base of the Stettner Couloir. (Just around the corner...)

Firm snow made for fast boot-packing and we were at the bottom of the Stettner Couloir just after sunrise.  Unlike earlier this year, the Stettner was one big, icy runnel peppered with rocks—great climbing but unlikely skiing.

Climbing super firm snow and ice in the lower Stettner Couloir.

We climbed the Stettner unroped, and pitched-out the ice in the Chevy traverse to the base of the Ford Couloir.

Jake leads the first pitch of the Chevy Couloir.

Another hour of firm step-kicking brought us to the summit and endless views into Idaho, Wyoming and Montana.

The last step to the summit!

The view from the top of the Grand is unbelievable; everything else is SO FAR below!  Under bluebird skies, we sat in the sun for a bit, soaking it all in and recharging for the descent while the snow finished corning up. I dropped in first, making a few test turns before opening it up down the southeast ridge to the top of the Ford.

Warm-up turns above the Ford Couloir. The Glacier Route/East Face of the Middle Teton in the background.

The entrance to the Ford is pretty steep—close to 50 degrees—but with it full of sweet corn we made big, fast turns, outrunning our sluff, leapfrogging our way down to the top of the Chevy.

AJ drops in to the top of the Ford Couloir.

Jake enjoys sweet corn in the Ford Couloir.

And that was the end of the riding up high on the mountain—the Chevy is unrideable and the Stettner would be awful turning, so after 4 pitches of rappelling we arrived at the bottom of our line and traversed around to the Teepe Glacier for another 2500’ of fun turns in the sun back to camp.

The first of four pitches of rappelling off the Grand.

What a sweet outing!  The descent was almost more rappelling than riding but the climbing was fun, the weather was perfect, and it felt so good to move fast.  We strolled the rest of the way down the trail into the forest and early-blooming wildflowers, chatting about what to ski next weekend and the massive amounts of food we would consume when we got back to Victor.

The Wire and Silver Chute mid summer

Scoping lines is a year long activity.  For one reason or another skiing always seems to occupy the mind no matter what the season.   Watching the mountains change throughout the season has become a favorite past time. This post contains just a few photos taken in the back yard of Telluride during different times of the year.

The Wire in the Fall

Palmyra and Silver Mountain

From the first snow of the fall throughout the hot summer days there is much to learn from watching the mountains transform through-out the seasons. Some lines that never looked possible gleam with possibility, and others continually expo their cruxes which might never be challenged by skiers.

The Wire and Silver Chute mid winter

Sneffels in early spring

Different times and different angles shed light on different possibilities.

Sneffels and yankee boy basin in early summer

Keeping your eyes on the lines until that moment when the snowpack, weather, and right friends all line-up. It may be a year or many years in some cases before your standing on top of that line that you’ve been looking at, but when you do it all seems to make sense.

Entrance to the 'Super Sic' couloir

The moment of truth.