Wagner Custom Ski Blog » mountaineering

Beating the Storm

AJ Linnell — Sat, 04 Feb 2012 01:49:15 +0000

One day I’m riding powder on Teton Pass; the next I’m picking my way through rocks on skis.

The conversation went something like this:

Me: “I know there’s a 100% chance of snow in the forecast, but it’s not suppose to roll in until afternoon. We’ll be fine! Let’s get up there early and get it done before the weather craps out.”

Scotty: (Brief pause…) “Okay. Can I borrow a pair of crampons?”

That’s how we ended up motoring over the pass in the wee hours, with starry skies above. Storm? What storm?

Whoa! A beacon checker at the Bradley-Taggart Parking Lot!

As it turned out, we hit it just about perfectly. A shallow coat of new powder covered the skintrack into Garnet Canyon, making route-finding in the dark extra challenging but adding to the ambience. Sunrise from the Platforms glowed pink across the eastern horizon, and gave us a good view of the summits overhead–no storm yet, just some spindrift blowing down from up high.

Sunrise from the mouth of Garnet Canyon.

Smooth skinning turned to rock-hopping once we gained the upper south fork of the canyon, working our way through scree-fields and linking together snow patches. Eventually we strapped our skis to our packs for good, finding bootpacking more efficient, and climbed a combination of last winter’s bulletproof snow and old avalanche debris to the base of the Southwest Couloir on the Middle Teton.

Cimbing out of the canyon toward the Middle Teton.

Being a generally windward-facing feature, the Southwest is often wind-hammered and scoured away, and this day was no exception. It looked as though there was almost more rock than snow in there, so we alternated between kicking steps into firm windbuff and dry-tool scrambling through rockbands. As it turned out, there was more snow available than we initially thought, although there would be no way to link up an uninterrupted ski descent.

Scotty "dry-tooling" up some rock in the Southwest Couloir. Not entirely skiable.

Taking the last few steps up the rimed summit formation.

Lenticular clouds were forming over the South Teton as we reached the summit, and the Grand stood eerily to the north, coming in and out of view as clouds streamed past. What an amazing hunk of rock that is, with a wonderfully snowy cleft right down the south face. It could use some more snow depth before becoming really skiable this season, but is a beauty nonetheless.

AJ on top of the world.

Scotty on top of the north ridge, with the Grand Teton in the background. Just doing a bit of reconnaissance.

The obligatory summit shot. Unfortunately the incoming clouds were obscuring the unreal view down into the Idaho side of the Tetons.

"Hey, is this thing working?" Scotty learns to use his camera.

We took a bunch of photos from the summit and then scrambled back down to the ledge where we had left our skis. The first few turns were actually pretty fun–chalky and firm, with plenty of exposure below to keep it exciting. Then it deteriorated into side-stepping through thinly-covered rocks and full-on downclimbing to get to more skiable snow. Skis on, skis off, skis on, skis off.

Now, how am I going to get through this?

Maybe a little side-step...

...And maybe I'll take a seat.

Finally on some continuously skiable snow.

The trip down into Garnet was surprisingly quick, given how long it took us to get up there, and once we hit the top of the Cave “Couloir” the snow magically turned into creamy, fast powder. It felt awesome to open up some GS turns after chop-turning through the rocks above.

Scotty opens it up in the Cave "Couloir".

Stoked on creamy pow turns!

Garnet Canyon flew past in a blur of powder crystals as the two of us popped off of wind-drifts–so fun. Somewhere around the Platforms we stopped to take a look back up-canyon and received the day’s first face-full of snowfall. The storm had arrived, after graciously giving us just enough time to do what we came to do.

Scotty, stoked to be rolling out of the canyon just as the storm hits.

We turned our skis down-canyon again for another hundred or so powder turns, and all of a sudden we were back at the lake, double-poling our way across to the moraines and our exit to the parking lot. Eight hours after setting out we sat back in the parking lot with beer in hand, watching the high peaks become enveloped in the storm. So thankful to live in this magical place.

Teton Ski Mountaineering in November?

AJ Linnell — Thu, 01 Dec 2011 15:12:41 +0000

November is typically a bit earlier than I start pursuing big lines in the alpine; regardless, Z and I started off the day with all kinds of grand visions for today’s trip. Neither of us quite anticipated the actual result.

Skinning away from the truck at 04:45, stars shining brilliantly overhead, we broke trail up Garnet Canyon–feeling good and ambitious, hoping for steep turns on sweet snow and fun climbing. We did find some of that, and some other stuff. Like a questionably-frozen lake that creaked and popped as we puckered up and kept skinning across the ice.

Skinning below the Middle Teton at sunrise.

Entering the upper canyon--bulletproof skinning through rocks. Awesome. (Here, Z is skinning below the Z Face on Cloudveil Dome. How appropriate.)

Windy? Windy.

We found a whole lot of horrifically scoured snow in the upper canyon. More scree than snow, actually. The East Ridge of the South Teton held so little snow on it that we left our glisse gear at the bottom and climbed it for the sake of climbing. (What?!) Ski mountaineering turned into mountaineering, in a gusty wind that threatened to peel the skin off our faces.

Climbing the East Ridge in blustery conditions. Note the lack of skis on Z's pack.

No snowboard, but fun climbing. Amazing views, too.

Climbing back down the East Ridge. That's what you do when there isn't enough snow to ski.

Or you might opt for a rappel or two.

The mandatory Eddie Bauer shot. Contemplating how we're going to get out of the mountains.

See all that snow blowing around on the ridge? That was unpleasant. You can just make out our bootpack in the center of the image.

We also found horrifically awful turns (bulletproof windslab, 10″-tall sastrugi, remnants of last winter’s snowpack with the consistency of glacier ice.) Lots of them. Punctuated with stretches of scrambling over snow-dotted scree fields in a hurricane.

Check out Z's edge penetration into the hardpack. Mmmm.

Better turns as we drop down to 10,000'. Blustery up there!

To be fair, we found really good turns lower down as well, sweet powder thinly covering jagged granite. Like skiing through a minefield, except the casualties were the bases of our boards. We left curls of base material and edge shards all over that place.

And then we skinned back across that lake.

But the question is: would I do it again? Hell yes, in a heartbeat.

*You may have noticed that I used the term “ski mountaineering” rather than “snowboard mountaineering”. Fear not–I am indeed still snowboarding, and loving my Wagner Custom board and approach skis. I use the term “ski” generically. Consider it a pursuit of efficiency, or laziness. “Ski” requires 6 fewer letters to type, and a whole syllable less to think or speak.

N. Ridge of the Middle Teton, Take 2

AJ Linnell — Tue, 15 Feb 2011 15:41:41 +0000

If you’re getting your ass whooped, you might as well appreciate it. So, with memories of last weekend skimming through my mind I say that it’s good to get whipped every now and then. It helps keep a body humble, helps me remember to set my eyes on realistic objectives and pursue them in appropriate conditions. It makes me thankful for friends who appreciate a healthy bit of suffering. And it’s a good reminder that coming home safe to ride another day will always be better than the alternative.

After a brief spurt of technical difficulties, Zahan Billimoria, Nate Brown, and I set off from the truck at 6am last Saturday with the hopes of climbing the North Ridge of the Middle Teton and traversing to the Southwest Couloir for a descent on skis and snowboard. The weather in the valley was gorgeous–clear, starry skies and warm temps with no wind. The skin track was firm and fast, a nice change from the cold and sticky skin tracks we’ve had for most of the winter. I am continuously impressed at the performance of my Wagner approach skis–light, agile, and remarkably smooth when I just need to glide on a rolling track.

AJ skins out of the Meadows and into the sun. Love those approach skis!

Easy conversation brought us to the Meadows and sunshine, where the day’s first winds blew down from the Lower Saddle, a preview for what was to come. The skin from the Meadows up to the Moraines below the Saddle is always a bit of a butt-kicker–steep and firm, offering little chance of stomping in an edge. With gusts swirling down the slope, I was occasionally unsure whether I would be blown off my feet as I stood precariously in Z’s faint “skin track”.

Coming in for a break.

Approaching the final climb to the Saddle the wind kicked up in earnest and we hunkered behind a boulder to take a break for food and water. Wind-borne snow pounded through our “shelter” while the sun shone from above and we took in as many calories as we could stuff in our mouths, put on harnesses and helmets, and prepared ourselves to commit to the climb above. The North Ridge was plastered in amazing rime formations and spindrift tails blew over the Saddle from Idaho. Brrr.

Nate leads the traverse around the Bonney Pinnacle.

Climbing into the shadow of the Middle, we got a good taste of the conditions for the rest of our climb as we donned crampons and every stitch of clothing we carried with us. Winds blew hard enough to knock us around, bare hands quickly became unusable. Nate led us up the ridge, around the head of the Bonney Pinnacle, and down to a notch at the top of the Pinnochio Couloir. Once gathered there, with the wind funneling through the notch, we decided to push on and see how conditions were further up the ridge. After all, we were only a few hundred feet from the summit.

Climbing rime in the windy cold.

Z backs off the North Ridge of the Middle.

After two more pitches of interesting climbing on rime-covered rock, we estimated that the winds were blowing at a sustained 50mph across the ridge and decided to pack it in. Standing in that kind of cold and wind while belaying is unpleasant, but climbing with a cold body and the constant fear of being blown off the route adds a whole different element. So, two quick rappels brought us back to the top of the Pinnochio Couloir, and a pretty good consolation prize. Z slung a horn and we threw the rope down the steep and narrow entrance; Nate put himself on rappel, cleaning out 20cm of fresh windslab as he skied-on-rappel down past the entrance choke.

Z approaches the end of the rappel into the Pinnochio Couloir.

Z followed Nate, and I rappelled last, muttering expletives when I got to the bottom of the rappel and discovered that the ropes were stuck. Stepping out of my snowboard in that terrain is always a bit dicey, but I managed to get it off my feet and anchored into the snow without dropping it 1200’ down the couloir to the glacier below. Repositioning the ropes back at the notch for a clean pull (after climbing back up) turned out to be easier than anticipated and my second trip down the rappel was smooth, the ropes pulled easily, and the rest of the couloir was pleasant, chalky powder.

Riding fun snow in the Pinnochio.

When I rode the Pinnochio last year I had to rappel a rockband midway down, but today it was well filled-in and we were able to squeak through a narrow passage to the fan below and made quick turns down to the moraines. The steeps above the Meadows were probably the best riding of the whole day, nicely lit up and softened by the sun, the first time I was able to really open it up. Z and Nate carved their way down to me and we all admitted to being pretty worked as we stowed away our climbing gear for the romp out of Garnet Canyon. Tired legs, tired backs, tired bodies. Whether mental or physical, or both, the cold and wind really took it out of us today.

Returning to the truck and warm, spring-like temperatures felt like a relief after being up high. We agreed that a bit of suffering was good for us, and committed to getting back on the route for another attempt soon.

Wagner Custom Ski Blog » mountaineering

Beating the Storm

Teton Ski Mountaineering in November?

N. Ridge of the Middle Teton, Take 2

Recommended reading for skiers: The Edge of Never