Gear Review: Scarpa Maestrale 2010-2011

It’s mid July, it is pitch black out, scrambling my way up exposed ledges of loose rock on Mt Rainier, skis strapped to my back. It seems a strange place to be, high in the air surrounded by ice and snow, teetering on loose chossy rock in the darkness, all things feeling uncertain around me, except my footwear. It may seem unbelievable to some that a Ski Touring boot such as the Maestrale could provide such a feeling of security and comfort while ski mountaineering. I too would be a sceptic had I not experienced them first-hand for the past season, although perhaps I should start from the beginning.

My first experience with the Scarpa Maestrale was as a rental boot from Mountain Equipment Co-op. I was immediately surprised by the comfort and warmth of the boot, as well as it’s performance.The boot was light and fast on the up, but stiff enough and stable on the way down. After a few rental sessions with these boots I decided to bite the bullet and buy a pair online.

Now to say these boots were perfect right out of the box would be an outright lie, in fact I had a number of problems with the boot in the short time after I got them. For starters, the day the boots arrived in the mail I eagerly took them out of the box to try them on and one of the nylon handles at the back of the Liner (you know the one, it’s there to pull your foot into the boot) tore free from the liner. Now that isn’t really Scarpa’s fault, the liners are made by Intuition, who kindly offered to exchange the liner for any liner from their catalogue, while this process took about 2 weeks, it was quicker than sending the boots back to Scarpa, and it’s also a professional courtesy not often honored these days, so kudos to Intuition!

The second memorable problem these boots gave me was a detached buckle, which had been noticed by a friend during a trip to a popular local touring area. With the boots only a couple of weeks old at that point a buckle had already fallen off, I was upset to say the least. It turns out the first iteration of the Maestrale was designed to be 100% field serviceable, so instead of the rivets used to secure the buckles on a conventional boot the Maestrale used bolts. This combined with either a bad batch or insufficient quantity of lock-tite had created a massive problem for this line of boot, with detaching buckles being incredibly common. I looked around but after a long struggle and no availability I had to call Scarpa North America and have them mail me a replacement nut and bolt. This again was a rather long process that in the end took about 2-3 weeks to arrive, but once the buckle was repaired I never had another issue with these boots.

Good news for those who are interested in the Maestrale, the boot is now made with riveted buckles, like all the other boots out there, so you shouldn’t have any detaching buckles at all!

Now that the bad it out-of-the-way, get ready for the good, cause there’s a lot of it!

The boot seemed to fit my foot perfectly, right out of the box, with almost no discomfort at all the first day I wore it, or any other day for that matter. The Intuition 100% thermo-moldable liner is durable and comfortable, shaping to fit the foot of the wearer perfectly after just a few short days of skiing. I never found it necessary to mold my liners, they just kept fitting better every time I wore them, so it seemed like a waste. The high quality liner has an optional shoe-lace for extended tours or hut trips, a nice added feature. When I eventually passed these boots on the Liner was still looking new, with no rips or tears anywhere, surprising after a long season, skiing well into September.

I drove a lot of different skis in this boot, most commonly a pair of 2009 Black Diamond Zealots (192cm) and a pair of 2011 K2 Kung Fujas (179cm).  To my surprise the Maestrale held up quite nicely in most circumstances. I did find that while on the Zealots in variable conditions the skis did tend to have a bit too much power for these boots, and I would recommend you look at other, stiffer AT boots if you plan to ride a big, fat bottomed charging ski! The 100 flex Maestrale boot is quite stiff for the flex rating it has been given, and I rarely felt like I needed more of a boot when skiing gnarlier terrain.

In their inaugural year the Scarpa Maestrale was the lightest 4-buckle touring boot on the market. For a skier such as myself, who doesn’t quite know when the season is supposed to be over, this weight savings was a godsend. I must have logged over 100 kilometers of hiking in the past summer with skis and boots strapped to my back, climbing steep trails, bouldering steep gullies and couloirs, scrambling myself to the snow line whatever it takes. The miniscule weight of this boot isn’t only an advantage when they are on your back, but also provides huge energy savings when touring as the body is required to lift much less weight with every stride.  The weight of these boots enabled me to do some very long distance days of skiing, hiking, and climbing, including climbing and skiing Mt. Rainier and Mt. Baker each in a single day.

Okay, so they’re light, strong, and comfy. But you really expect me to believe they can boulder or climb?

Yeah, seems absurd doesn’t it? But it’s true! The Maestrale comes complete with a rugged, rockered Vibram mountaineering sole. This sole is similar to what would be found on many high-end mountaineering or climbing boots. Now obviously with the thick rigid plastic exteriors of the average ski boot these don’t perform as a dedicated mountaineering boot might, but you will be surprised when (if) you have to tackle that sketchy looking section of rocky ridge how well these boots feel under-foot.

All in the Maestrale provides a good, burly ski boot capable of driving almost anything you could want, but without the costly weight gains typical of most stiffer boots. If you’re looking for a boot that is as comfortable on long tours as it is on the descent, performs well in all conditions in and out of the ski binding and keeps your foot warm, dry, and comfortable, the Maestrale is just what you’re looking for!

 

Pros: Warm, Comfortable, LIGHT, Durable, Stiff, Stylish, Affordable.

Cons: Not everyone can pull off bright orange! [2010/2011-Buckles fall off, (my pair) defective liners] It looks like the manufacturer has righted these wrongs, and if so, there are no cons to this boot!

Fresh tracks for all

Autopilot. A blur, painted in familiarity, scrambles along my car windows, could it be that we have come this way before? If I didn’t know better I would say I drive this road daily. Having frequented Baker a half-dozen times in as many weeks certainly adds an air of disinterest to the drive, which now passes in the blink of an eye. I feel almost as if I had nodded off in the driver’s seat, following the turns of the highway, eyes closed, as if led by some strange cosmic energy, the spirit of the mountain drawing me near. The smell of coffee wrestles me from the road-coma and I pull off for an extra-large dose of life, convince a border guard it *IS* possible to go skiing today (sometimes this takes a lot of work), and sink once more into the zombie-like state created by frequenting such a highway. “Turns……Tuuurrrns.” the eerie zombie-mantra plays in my head.

We arrive at the Heliotrope Ridge trail parking lot and park right behind Andy and Andrew, who are in the process of gearing up. I’m surprised to see them in the parking lot, as they had left Vancouver at least 30 minutes before us. A few quick minutes later and we are all packed up and stepping onto the trail. There are five of us today, Grace Wong is skiing for the first time, Jes Jelinek recently underwent back surgery and is out for some air (and to help Grace), Andy Jackson is testing out a new set-up (Scarpa Skookums, Dynafit TLT SPD, Volkl Gotama, you dirty LUSH), Andrew Leduc and myself. We stick together, mostly, as we climb steadily through the forest, the rapid change of seasons evident all around us. The air is cold, frost is present on the ground in many places, and as we gain elevation we find more and more patches of thick ice along the trail. We emerged from the forest into bluebird conditions with a smattering of snow thrown over the landscape, thickening to a few inches near the glacier. So much of the landscape has been filled in with snow since our last visit, I would estimate a decent snow cover exists as low as 5800ft.

Reaching the glacier there is an obvious skin track to the right, where a small congregation is swapping from trail footwear to ski boots, joining them we converse and joke as we revel in the fresh powder that lay all about. Andy and Andrew set off up the glacier and I wait for Grace and Jes to catch up. I help Grace swap into ski gear and immediately realize I have left her skins in the trunk of my car, genius! I guess we can learn to skin another day. Once Grace and Jes are set I head up the glacier to get some turns in, moving quick as I can trying not to miss the first run.

I manage to “catch” A&A who are breaking for lunch, it’s not nearly food time for me so I hand off the stove, grab the GoPro and continue on my way, trying to pass everyone I can see in the skin track. I reach the top of the feature in no time, the altimeter says 7196ft, making it around 1400ft of good snow to ski.  I quickly stash my skins in my pack and chose a fresh line down the center of the face, the snow is delightful, light, fluffy, cold. It seems strange how long into the day these winter conditions held, it was still hovering around -2 degrees Celsius at the warmest of times. I make a wonderous mess of things as I drop in, fine powder sprays off my tails as I butcher my turns leaving behind me a twisted tale etched in the snow. I’m looking forward to riding a more aggressive, harder charging ski after being on the K2 Kung Fujas since spring, a fan of higher speeds and longer turns, it shows in my skiing.

I skid to the snowline and spend some time with Grace and Jes, playing around in the snow and chasing down the occasional run away ski (no brakes). After a while I skinned back to the top of the ridge and pulled out the JetBoil to make a double dose of coffee. Here I basked in the sun shine and limitless visibility in all directions as I waited for A&A to get back up to the ridge. In the distance you can see the mountaineers and skiers climb and descend the Roman Wall, the final, steepest feature on the classic route to the summit. The slopes were shared with a dozen or so skiers, but no one was in a rush, there was plenty of fresh snow for everyone to have their fill.

Finally, at around 3pm Andy, Andrew and myself gathered on the ridge-top for one last trip down, taking turns jumping off the largest, most prominent feature to start the run. The snow was still immaculate as we charged down the slopes, though untouched patches had become harder to find. Arriving at the base of the skin track we swapped out our gear and said our goodbyes, eager to beat the rush across the border. The day couldn’t have been better, both the presence and quantity of fresh powder were surprising to everyone, and a very welcome change after skiing throughout the summer on all manner of mank, ice and rock.

Mt. Brunswick in Merrells – Light on your feet

I’ve never had great experiences while running. As long as I can remember, I’ve developed some kind of knee pain almost instantaneously after starting any kind of running program. Various professionals recommended various solutions. Some said it was a kinetic chain problem originating from my hips being weak, others suggested the wrong amount of motion control in my shoes (too much or too little) and there were a number of solutions offered which never really helped. I tried to do long distance running in high school but was never able to train properly due to the issues I experienced. Hiking has never given me issues and I seem to be able to handle large amounts of downhill movement. My lack of enthusiasm for running is probably why I never paid much attention to the initial onslaught of ‘barefoot’ shoes that came out. One of the people I work with is a bit of a zealot when it comes to barefoot running, which probably throws a lot of people off. The moment that made me think I had to look into the whole concept actually happened at home. I was in my kitchen cooking dinner at the time. I went to get something from another room, and realized that I was walking on my forefoot. I try to be a rational person, and know when I have to admit I may be wrong or need to give something a second chance. Within a week I went out and bought the Merrell Trail Glove.

A few kilometres on the odometer

I’ve now had a chance to try them out in a few different environments and in different lengths of days. The first thing I did was go out and run 2.5 km in them. To be completely honest, I really didn’t look into forefoot strike running technique at all. For some reason I just found myself able to run that way naturally. My guess would be that because I am not an accomplished long distance runner used to using heel strike for an extended period of time, there wasn’t much of an ‘un-learning’ curve for me. The calf soreness that was my reward was unlike anything I’ve ever experienced. But no knee pain at all.

After I was able to walk again, I headed up the BCMC trail with the shoes. As far as fatigue goes, the way up felt similar to using any other shoe or boot as I’ve always tended to stay on my forefoot when heading uphill. The couple of flatter spots didn’t really affect my performance at all. The way down exhausted my calves again, but the thinner sole felt great hopping between rocks and over roots.

I did some more actual running in the shoes, and was not really able to break past my original distance. Definitely a frustrating experience for someone who always likes to improve, but I had to convince myself that this was a completely new activity and I just needed to give it time.

Then on Monday, after missing out on the weekend’s activities at Mt. Baker, I headed up Mt. Brunswick with a friend. I was a bit apprehensive about doing 14 km and 5000 feet of elevation gain in the Trail Glove, but decided to go for it anyway. It turned out to be one of the best days possible for this particular trail. Steadily switchbacking through deciduous forest was more enjoyable than expected, as the morning was cool but not cold.

A glimpse of the view

Breaking into more alpine terrain, we caught broken pieces of the view. The temperature increased in the sun, but a prevailing breeze began to offset that very quickly. The Merrells had great ground feel, and I felt steady on my feet the whole time. Close to the summit, surface frost appeared in the shade, giving an indication of ambient temperature out of the sun. We crossed the Howe Sound Crest trail where Matt and his group had come through a few weeks earlier. The only issue I experienced the whole day occurred when we reached the sharp, broken scree near the top after the intersection. There was enough solid rock for me to easily keep my footing, but a couple of time the rock was actually sharp enough to cause discomfort in my forefoot or the arch of my foot if I placed my foot poorly. Fortunately it was a fairly short part of the trail, but it was something I made note of

Looking back toward Garibaldi

At the summit, the wind was stronger and it was considerably cooler. There was still a large snow field in behind Mt. Brunswick, and evidence of recent snowfall in shaded areas. We admired the view for a few minutes, ate, I botched a panorama, then we headed back down.

Looking south down the Sea to Sky and Howe Sound

Total round trip, minus breaks was 5 hours. If I had one specific impression of how the Trail Glove performed, it would be that the low weight of the shoe is fantastic. As I stated earlier, I am probably a calf-heavy hiker normally, so there really wasn’t any issues with the lack of a thick sole. The Vibram gripped well, except on icy and wet rocks, which isn’t really surprising. Even still, the excellent ground feel helped on unstable surfaces. I’ll be doing my best to use them as much as possible this winter whenever my foot isn’t locked into a ski boot.

-K

the Joy of Packing

Theres something immensely enjoyable about packing for a day in the mountains. Predicting the day, the conditions, estimating temperature by altitude and packing the absolute minimum to keep you safe and comfortable. It’s natural to have a grin ear to ear as you grab the best and lightest and pile it up for a review before packing. Each carefully selected piece reminds you of a valued trip and time where you learned something important about the mountains and preparing for them.

The pack is stuffed beyond good sense, every square centimeter well used. Shovel blade lines the back of the pack, the snow pants and jacket next outside to protect other contents from water. The inner elastic section houses a jetboil stove on top, gloves underneath, followed by a balaclava, a heavy weight merino sweater, and a well stocked first aid kit and a serious reuseable emergency blanket. The top compartment houses a compass, strike anywhere matches in a waterproof case, a headlamp, a knife, and a map.Goggles share their pocket with some sunnies and a wool toque.

The skis are diagonal on the pack, lashed down tight and pre mounted with boots. Another great day of memories ahead. Zzz.

The Ultimate Backcountry Party

Sitting here, virtual pen in hand, I have mixed feelings about writing about what may be one of the best back country parties in the Pacific Northwest. The reasons are obvious: while I am motivated to share my experiences in the back country with everyone in the hopes that they will learn to love the mountains, and be loved by the mountains, there is always  a fear that the inspiration will have ill effects. There are many ways this could happen, primarily of course I worry about those who shortcut switchbacks, hike off-trail in well-traveled ecologically sensitive alpine terrain, leave their garbage around, those that elicit the behavior that scars the landscape for both humans and native species alike. The biggest concern for the party at hand however, is numbers, pure and simple.

My first experience with this party was in the winter of 2009-2010. I had been told of a great way to ring in the new year, far from the bright lights, noise, people, and pollution of the city. A place filled with kindred spirits, with adventurers, with seekers of solitude. The excursion that year was a short one, having worked New Year’s Eve day,driving the long haul to the Diamond Head parking lot, arriving after dark and breaking trail through 12 inches of new snow in snowshoes with way too much gear in my pack. I had arrived at the Elfin Lakes shelter around 11:30pm and was so exhausted I picked a small patch of floor and passed out, stirring only briefly at the strike of midnight.

I was determined to have a better experience in 2010-2011, and managed to get a few extra days off work to do it properly. My entire approach had changed, and rightfully so. In place of my winter sleeping bag, tent, candle lantern and other trinkets usually considered a winter necessity was a hefty quantity of wine and food, some travel board-games, a +5 degree sleeping bag and some other nick-knacks to keep me entertained. The Elfin Lakes shelter is a surprisingly well stocked haven, nestled 13.5km from the parking lot between sparse trees and deep snow, the hut comes complete with bunk space for 32, 4 large pic-nick tables, 2-2 burner propane stoves for melting water complete with massive water-only pots, a propane heating unit to heat the cabin, and a small batch of solar panels mounted on the roof of the cabin provide lighting throughout the bottom floor of this classic alpine a-frame.

On the approach between Red Heather and Elfin lakes.

Now I wouldn’t advise that everyone travel so light, nor would I advise that you travel expecting to sleep in the hut, as the truth of the matter is you’ll be lucky if you do. Elfin Lakes fills up FAST for this party, and the hut is consistently overflowing, over new years you can expect every bunk and every inch of floorspace to be occupied, including the benches and table-tops of the picnic tables downstairs. You need to be both early and lucky to sleep in the hut, earlier and luckier still to get a bunk. If this is a trip you set your will to, be prepared to sleep outside, bring a tent, or the knowledge and gear to build and adequate snow-cave, and a sleeping bag capable of keeping you comfortable during the chilly, -20 nights.

I set out early on December 30th 2010, my pack heavy with wine and food. Carrying a heavy pack sometimes bothers me, but never when it’s filled with the aforementioned, partly because I know the pack will be light on the way home, and partly because it’s worth the burden to have those things handy when you’re spending 4 days at a luxurious back country haven. The hike is straight forward, switch-backing up a wide and well-traveled path to the Red Heather day shelter at about 6 kilometers, then climbing for a short while until you reach the height of Paul’s Ridge and traversing this ridge until you reach the shelter. The winter route beyond Red Heather is very well-marked with orange reflective poles that can guide you safely even at night. I moved as quickly as possible, almost with a sense of desperation knowing that every person ahead of me is a chance I’ll be sleeping on the floor, or in a snow cave. I passed many people on the way as I trudged full-steam, dripping with sweat, determined to cash in on the fortune of comfort left behind by those retreating to the city to ring in the new year. I felt more than a tad guilty as I stepped off trail and broke a new path around a group of 4 slow movers just as the hut came into view, knowing I was likely taking a bed from one of them, but not guilty enough to stop, you don’t give up 100 meters from the finish line and you don’t get a bed moving so slowly 100 meters from the hut, remember this as you hike out to Elfin this winter folks, or I may well steal your bed in the last 100 meters as well.

I kicked the snow off my boots and cruised into the hut, heading straight upstairs to survey the situation. Just as I had thought, the people downstairs were evacuating with haste, trying to escape before the horde of party goers descended on the hut, leaving in their wake comfortable sleeping space for five. I threw my gear down on a top bunk and quickly set to work making it home, my suspicions confirmed, I had taken a space from one of those weary travelers in the last quarter kilometer. I took a top bunk to allow the foursome I had passed a courtesy, the bottom bunks can fit 2 people nice and cozy, so this would allow enough space for the group I passed to all get off the floor. I could hear them griping as they arrived a solid 5 minutes behind me, but wasn’t concerned.

Elfin lakes shelter, nestled deeply amongst firs and snowbanks.

Elfin Lakes is a paradise for the back country enthusiast, with every manner of terrain available for the skier, hiker, and mountaineer. Just west of the hut is Columnar Peak and the Gargoyles, offering good steep terrain up high flowing into an abundance of enjoyable angles rounded out nicely with amazing glade runs down low. Further north you will find Atwell peak, a steep and iconic mountain, with Mount Garibaldi not far beyond. To the north along Ring Creek you will find Opal Cone, the remnants of an old stratovolcano worn away by time and weather. Beyond Opal Cone, Ring Creek gives entry to the Garibaldi Neve, an expanse of snow, ice, and rocky peaks. The Garibaldi Neve is a popular ski touring trip that can be done in a weekend from Vancouver, it runs from the Diamond Head parking lot north past Elfin lakes to Garibaldi lake, returning to the highway via the Black Tusk parking lot.

A view of the Iconic Atwel peak in Garibaldi Provincial Park.

We get the most out of the short winter days, rising early and chasing whatever the heart desires. For some its fresh tracks on a bluebird POW day, for others it’s a hike to a local peak or an exploratory mission north along ring creek. The terrain is endless, the view spectacular, endless snow-capped peaks dominate the skyline as far as the eye can see in every direction. To the south-west one can see as far as the Tantalus range, and deep into the coast mountains to the east. A far cry, and a vast improvement from the lights and noise of the concrete jungle in which the oblivious ring in their new year.

Arriving at the saddle between Columnar and the Gargoyles

As day gives way to-night, and the landscape begins to dawn its blackened cape, something truly majestic is borne. Host to not only the best New Years party, Elfin Lakes is home to the best sunset around. Brilliant oranges, reds, and yellows dance in the sky as the sun drops out of view beyond the mountains to the west. Hikers, skiers, and travelers all admire the sight from the second story balcony of the Elfin shelter. A group of young climbers and skiers lug their sleeping bags out into the snow and lay speechless as the aging day paints the night sky. In my mind, it really doesn’t get any better than this.

The day grows old, and the end of a great 2010. December 31.

The abundance of darkened winter evening is passed quickly by enjoying the crazy carpet luge track just outside the shelter. Carved by the giddy frolicking of timeless youth this spectacular luge can often run over a hundred meters down slopes  of varying degrees. Every lap down the track extends it a little further, and firms the boot-pack back to the top. When one grows too weary of racing face first downhill in the snow on a sheet of plastic, or too cold, you need only to walk a minute or two into an alpine hut buzzing with conversation and laughter as a hundred or more back country travellers share stories and drinks and count down the new year.

A false start at the Elfin Luge track.

A few friends make a point every year of bringing one item each to share amongst the group. And so, on new years eve 2010, they hosted the first (to my knowledge) Pumpkin Pie twist-off. Yeah, a game of Twister, in the middle of nowhere, any man or woman welcome to compete, and the winner of each round awarded a big slice of pumpkin pie. You have to admire the steam it takes to pack the massive 2-kg pie so far into the back country, and more-so the spirit to give it away so freely to people you don’t even know. This is the party at Elfin Lakes, it’s not just about getting messy for the sake of it, there’s a bond, a comradery that exists, though unspoken we are all friends for a few short days.

Another round of Pie-Twist-Off about to start.

A great time is had by all, no one is left out, everyone is friends. The party rages on past midnight, the bulk of the people returning to their tents, snow caves, bunks and small patches of floor around 1am. The unmuzzled conversation and occasional burst of laughter can be heard downstairs as late as 4am. As the sun rises on the new year the place empties, a mad bustle of activity downstairs as the vast majority of the occupants make a mad dash for civilization. My group of friends and I stay behind an extra night or two, enjoying the calm after the storm.

In their mass-exodus these travelers leave an overwhelming tale, the hut is littered with garbage, empty food wrappers, old party hats, wine bottles. Every manor of crap is strewn about the place. At around 9am, with most people already on their way, the Park Rangers arrive garbage bags in hand all too ready for this nonsense. Their mood is one of much disappointment, anger, frustration and sadness, a feeling I share myself. It baffles me how people can behave in this manner, and taint such a beautiful place so carelessly. My friends and I help the rangers clean up, filling 2 great big green garbage bags full of people’s discarded crap. I offer to lash them to my pack and throw them in a dumpster when I return home the next day. It leaves a sour taste to a otherwhise spectacular holiday.

I’d like to take this chance to urge everyone, big and small, in all walks of life, PLEASE, treat our outdoors, especially our provincial parks with respect. If you can manage to pack your crap uphill to the hut, you can manage to pack it out when its empty, weighing nothing, taking no pack-space, on the downhill descent. The carelessness and utter disdain shown for such a treasure in our own backyard is heartfelt and angering for me. No hut needs a “wine-bottle candle holder”, or any other manner of junk you’re too lazy or ignorant to pack out. There is no excuse.  It is our duty as explorers in the back country to leave no trace, and, upon finding one, remove it as best your ability.

Something worth protecting, keeping clean, and appreciating as often as possible.

Something worth protecting, keeping clean, and appreciating as often as possible. 2

Skiing in August…now we can say we did that

Keeping the dream alive…
This is a back log of our August trip to Brandywine Meadows

This time it was just Andy and I, (Andrew). We set out from Vancouver relatively early, in August the sun is up a lot longer than in winter so there isn’t as much haste in our steps. It was a beautiful day, if not one of the best weekends of the entire year… and I’m not exaggerating! It was pure blue bird, and hot as hell! Which ended up giving us matching freakishly red sun burns..

Once we got close to Whistler, we took a cut-off on the left and followed some logging roads up as high as Andy’s Ford F150 would take us! Arriving just around noon, the energy was good as we prepare all our gear.
It was my first time to Brandywine Meadows, so I was stoked to see a new place! But before I could see anything.. we had a 2 hour hike through some crazy forest trails with 50 pound packs on our backs.. and being that I’m a snowboarder, and not a skier, going through the forest with wings on your back makes its a little more difficult ! haha
After a good hour of hiking we could start seeing snow and the forest starting to thin out, and feel the cool alpine air finally sweeping through the trees…
I’m not sure if it’s just me…but there is something so delicious about the air in the mountains, its so fresh, cool, and invigorating… once I start to get that air in my lungs, I am overwhelmed with anticipation! and I feel a big smile sweep across my face!
We finally break the forest and enter the Meadows… wow, picture perfect
We are surrounded by a beautiful 180 degree panorama of mountains, all with a healthy amount of snow still on them.
The only sounds to be heard was the rushing of water from the massive amount of melting snow on such a hot day.

We chatted for awhile about where we wanted to ski, and where we wanted to set camp, and once we decided we set off up the peak
Once up to a fair elevation with some flat ground and wind cover, we set down out gear finally, relieving the pain from our shoulders.
It’s not hard to be motivated in the snow, because soon as you stop working you get cold very fast… so almost immediately we were setting up camp, and off finding fire wood.
With about 2 hours left of sunlight, and with enough fire wood collected we decided to go for a good climb up and ride down at least once before the day was over!
We picked our lines and headed down, started a fire, ate some dinner, and off to bed!

We woke up to another amazing blue bird day!
And again, the same things apply in the morning… once we were out of the tent, we were packed up and ready to set off for our desired summit to where we wanted to ride down.
It took a good 3-4 hours probably for us to get where we wanted to go, as we took our time, enjoying the views and the beautiful weather.
At one point, we could see another group of climbers (without skis) heading up from a different route.. these guys had a little more angst in their step, as they actually reached the summit before us, and we started half way up!! haha but boy did we make it down a LOT faster! haha

finally making it to our summit we have the last of our water and food, take a good break and rest our legs, strap into our gear and ride down!!

Baker 2.0 – a ski mountaineering adventure

Vibrant red and orange goose down jackets pierce the morning darkness as we pull into the parking lot, the sounds of aluminum clinking as gear is racked and bags packed. We’re not alone in our early morning efforts, though, we rarely are.  A man sits on the edge of his trunk, tightening his mountaineering boots. “What route are they doing? How fast are they? Are they going for the Summit? Will they pass us, or us them?” These questions always fill my mind in the presence of the kindred, curious about my fellow explorers. Andy and I make quick work of the process, we’ve done this many times before and we don’t waste any time. Light has barely begun to filter through the trees as we drop into the forest, leaving behind those who had beaten us to the parking lot.

The familiar trail serves us well, guiding us quickly towards our objective at amazing pace, stopping only once along the way to catch our breath and fill our water. Our packs are so light, a far cry from the week before when we were burdened with overnight gear, and far too over prepared for cold or bad weather. Fast and light is truly a principle worth pursuing, tirelessly, continually. “It’s like I’m not wearing a pack at all!” Andy exclaims, every joint and muscle grateful for our revised battle plan. We reach the glacier in about 75 minutes, surprising not only ourselves but the tired and dreary climbers who slept high on the mountain, still clawing their way out of  bed. A strange apparition we must be indeed, two figures shrouded by the last remnants of darkness and mist, frolicking up the last stretch of chossy ridge line, a bird’s nest of gear jutting out from our packs. I wonder if they are as surprised to see us so far into the day trip as I am to see people still at camp as the sun begins to rise?

We choose a seat at the lip of the glacier and shared words with a rope of 3 who had slept at high camp, also from Vancouver, they were making a weekend of our day trip. Just above us some two hundred feet a foursome began traversing out left to avoid the crevasses overhead, which had grown considerably since our visit a week ago. We moved without urgency, confident there was plenty of time to complete our goal, and enjoying the sight of two brightly dressed climbers ascending a small outcropping of rocks to our right. All that was left was to fill Andy in on some of the basics…

“Always hold your coils like this, not like this. If I disappear out of sight immediately drop to the glacier and dig in. Don’t step on the rope.” I say, among other things,  “And just don’t fall into a crevasse and we’ll be fine!” I finish, grinning wide.

The bright twosome step off the rocks above us just as we begin moving up the glacier. We close on them but leave them a decent birth, no one wants to be chased up the mountain, plenty of time and space for everyone. The going is easy on the glacier, and the first 2000 feet fall away without incident as Andy and I climb quickly and confidently, weaving our way through crevasses of varying size and depth. The parties in front of us have gifted us a route, though their tracks disappear from time to time, muted by ice or filled in with spin-drift snow.

 

A pair of Ice climbers leading the charge up the glacier.

The view from the glacier is spectacular, the nearby peaks boast a light covering of fresh snow, an early gift from a season long overdue. Above 6500ft our own path begins to show signs of the dusting, growing ever deeper as we climb. Thoughts of the exposed glacial ice, and the difficult skiing they likely bring begin to fade away, replaced with anticipation for this soft smattering of long forgotten white gold. The duo in front of us peel off and head for a group of large crevasses, eager to test their wits and skill in some early season ice climbing. As they do Andy and I catch a glorious sight, a trio of ski mountaineers who had slept high on the glacier come racing down after catching their prize. This spectacle puts a smile on both our faces, and we begin to accelerate, no longer worried about crowding the group in front of us we begin to move faster up steep slopes than we had on the flats.

A fresh smattering of snow, winter is fighting for its time to shine!

At 7500ft we roll over onto more flats and catch sight of both ropes we had seen while gearing up, we’ve gained a lot of ground on them and they don’t seem to be moving too fast. We break for lunch and watch them move slowly up the next ramp of snow and ice. They pause for a long time, mid-traverse,  and we watch curiously as they fiddle with gear and move around uncertainly.

“Let’s just wait and watch for a moment, it looks like they are having troubles.” I say to Andy motioning towards the other climbers, who have all seemed to gather on the top of the next ramp.

I assume that all is well as the last of the climbers slowly vanishes out of sight, and we continue up the glacier. We had stayed low in hopes that if their route had proven impassable we would not have wasted the time and effort. As we climbed the slope and began to see over the crest of the ramp we could see that all was not well, the two ropes had stopped moving just above the ramp. It took us no time to climb the slope and join them, eager to inspect the situation for ourselves.

Massive crevasses, furiously deep and wide, bared travel in all directions, save one. A small snow-bridge, no more than 3 feet wide and angled led to a small platform and in turn to another snow-bridge. The foursome hummed and hawed, indecisive and uncertain as the time passed quickly around us. I moved in closer and saw the ground fall away for a hundred feet or more on either side of this narrow snow-bridge. The terrain itself seemed easy enough, the width of a side-walk it was merely the consequences of a fall that froze these men in their place.

Their behavior next startled and confused me. They could tell a fall would be lethal, as could I, but with all their axes, pickets, and the assortment of other gear we could see strapped to their packs, they placed nothing, not even a boot belay was offered or suggested. One man stepped out onto the bridge, testing it with his axe step by step, spending a great deal of time on this exposed terrain. Once across the bridge, a mere 3-5 feet long, they paused again and continued to talk about the situation. Some 20+ minutes had passed now since we had joined them on this platform, with only one man across the snow-bridge and 6 men on two ropes still between us and this feature, my thoughts turned to the time, and the degrading visibility.

How easy, I thought to myself, it would be to deal with this small bump in the road. One picket firmly placed, a climber on belay over rough terrain, a second picket once the step is crossed, and a safe belay for every following member, safe travel for a party of four. I considered, only for a second, passing them on the feature, but I know I have more sense than that, it wouldn’t be safe, fair, or polite. I scolded myself, don’t be impatient, this isn’t the place.

 

Andy waiting patiently for the path to clear.

We began conversing with the rope of 3 from Vancouver, and it seemed they felt the same as I, the terrain didn’t look too bad, but no one could see where the next snow-bridge led to, or if it would provide passage to the upper glacier at all. Even if it did, there’s still the matter of the foursome, now split between the two sides of the first snow-bridge, stopped dead in their tracks.  I know that many a mountaineer would push past them, muttering under their breath as they made the situation worse for everyone but themselves, but this is not the way one should behave in the mountains, or anywhere. After some time, weather rolling in, getting darker and colder by the minute we opted to take the turns we had earned and call it a day.  Neither Andy or I were upset at this prospect, as some thousands of feet of varied terrain lay below us, much of it covered with a dense but soft layer of snow, perfect conditions for the ski out.

Off with the crampons, away with the axes, the changeover is relaxed as we enjoy the anticipation. As we swap out our kit and pack up our rope the other Vancouverites begin their descent, obviously sharing our feelings on the situation, time more an issue for them than for us. We wish each other well as they step down onto the ramp and out of sight.

A quick push with one ski and gravity quickly takes hold, coaxing us down the mountain with great strength. The snow is fast, but soft and easy to control. I wave a ski pole at the descending party as Andy and I rip past them with great intensity, charging full-bore down the slope. We hold up only briefly at the end of the flats to eye out our route through the next field of crevasses and we’re off again carving turn after electrified turn through a minefield of danger, skiing un-roped over snow bridges and dangerously close to large crevasses. About two-thirds of the way down I almost drive straight into a medium sized crevasse, a gnarled and weak covering of snow tempting me into the void, I execute the what must be the quickest stop of my life, and point my ski pole at the danger for Andy to see .

The skiing continues to be phenomenal from start to finish, even the exposed glacial ice mid-run provides baffling control and  excellent turns as we gleefully carve our way towards cold beer and greener pastures. We cut skier’s left under the last grouping of crevasses and dodge rock outcroppings, skiing to the lowest point of the snow. I am surprised how quickly the run is over as we arrive at the base of glacier seemingly only minutes after having started, though, we were skiing pretty fast. As we stow our ski gear and ready ourselves for the hike down, we turn and see the ice climbers high on the glacier, just beginning their descent. The day is a great victory, we had a lot of fun on both the up and down, and though we didn’t make the summit, we know we will be back, soon. This is a local mountain, a mere 2 hour drive from home, and one we will visit a dozen or more times this year alone, and perhaps hundreds in our lifetime!

The hike down is fast and easy, still feeling fresh and energetic, a testament to traveling light and fast. Every hiker we pass stops us and picks our brains, on all matter of things, curious and full of questions. We enjoy their interest and kindly share with them all we can. We make the car by 3:30 and quickly find ourselves winding down glacier creek drive headed for the border. The customs officer seems surprised, “Just how many people are doing this?” he exclaims when we tell him where we have been. Andy and I laugh loudly, we had the same border guard last week heading back from the same place. We share a laugh with the officer and head on our way, back home to work and all manner of commitment, the desire to be in the mountains already growing inside me.