Well, I've been back from the soggy Northwest for a week and still washing the musty smell out of my clothes, so it's about time to write a little about some adventuring in search of the infamous cascade concrete.
Every time there are feet of fresh snow in the mountains it flips a switch in my brain causing otherwise unreasonable behavior: getting up at 3AM for an early ski so I can be home in time for family dinner, or spending 15 out of 30 winter break days up in the mountains (both happened several years ago). It's something non-skiing folks immediately think you are a little nutty for as you turn down lunch and coffee meetings with friends, feeling a little guilty about it but hoping to re-plan for a day when the snow is not so good. The following events had everything to do with this "powder fever" and the ridiculous lengths one might go to in order to make fresh tracks in the deepest, fluffiest snow.
I flew into Seattle on the 11th, and the cough I was cultivating for a week prior turned into a full blown cold upon arrival, so skiing would have to wait until I was functioning normally. Booooo!!! It was pouring rain constantly, of course, with some snow mixed in when temps dropped enough, making it that much more painful to stay indoors and out of the mountains knowing that the ski conditions were nothing short of epic! It eventually grew into immense frustration forcing me to make some plans after over a week of moping around looking out at the constant dreary weather. Washington in winter is fine if you're playing in the snow or mud, but feeling icky is not conducive to either of those...
My friend Freya kept bugging me about getting up to Bellingham to ski at Mt. Baker, but that had to wait a few more days so I bought a cheap train ticket north for the next Wednesday and hoped the temps stayed cold. Had I known what lay ahead I definitely would have bailed, but the possibility of being at Baker for a most amazing day was too alluring.
Just my luck, as I was packing to leave I heard the road to Baker was closed on Wednesday and probably would still be closed Thursday for removal of a hundred or so fallen trees. Not to mention, the train tracks were covered in a mudslide somewhere north of Seattle so I would be on a bus of some sort instead. I stubbornly stuck with my original travel plans and rode the ferry over to the Edmonds station, getting in an Amtrak-booked taxi to the Everett station, and upon arrival no bus in sight but a building crammed with people waiting for the train to get through. Yikes! The station master didn't know which bus or when it would come, but said he'd make an announcement when that came up, most likely not for another hour or 2. Great, glad I brought some knitting projects. Pondering the whole time that I should have thrown down the extra $20 each way for the ferry and just driven up there! A bus did come en route to Vancouver, Canada, picking up a few of us stragglers headed to Bellingham, and I arrived safe and sound but feeling quite worn out at 10:45, 2 hours later than I was scheduled. Thus far I didn't mind terribly, figuring it would be fun to hang out with my good friends for a bit longer; I didn't mind not skiing Thursday so much in expectation that Friday was going to be the most amazing ski day ever.
Thursday dawned equally wet and dreary as the day before, and we slept in considerably with Freya also battling a cold. A few hours of knitting and chatting, a trip to the yarn store, and to the co-op for some tea, everything was fine until we read the updated conditions on Baker's website stating the road would still be closed Friday because the tree crews couldn't work while the wind was up and trees were still falling. NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!
(angry face)
This new development forced a change of plans; Freya and I decided to head over to her home in Port Townsend in hopes that the road to Hurricane Ridge would be open on Friday, and I could take a bus back home from there after. I had a pounding headache on the ferry ride over and Freya was still sniffling when we arrived at her dad's house, so we raided the pantry for some ramen soup and garlic and crashed out early. I felt decent enough but not great early the next morning, but the prospect of finally skiing some powder pulled me out of bed. Luck was not on our side again today, and the Hurricane Ridge twitter site stated that the road would be closed due to "large amounts of snow" still needing to be cleared. Apparently this drama has been the theme of the year, with the road being scheduled to open Fri-Sun and even then not really staying on much of a schedule to attempt to open the road. As the closest place to play in snow in the winter time for many Olympic peninsula locals this decision has made the greater community very upset! As for myself, I wanted to find some rotten food and throw it at the park service headquarters until they got up and started plowing the road (
verrryyy angry!)
For more info on Hurrican Ridge goings on, check here:
http://www.freehurricaneridge.blogspot.com/
It's really an interesting story. How much public frustration needs to be expressed before the management realizes they are screwing up horribly?
Anyhow, the sun came out and it was looking like a beautiful day to be somewhere outdoors. At this point I could have gone home but decided to stay around and ski Saturday since the gate SHOULD be open then after a full day of plowing! Freya tried surfing a break on the north end of Port Townsend while I napped for a bit, then we went out mushroom hunting with her dad. I even managed to find a couple good ones! We made mushroom tempura immediately and it was amazing. I don't feel confident that I can identify them on my own yet, but it was fun tromping around in the woods and playing spot the mushroom.
Unfortunately my head was aching again and I felt like crap by the end of that day, and was not very optimistic on feeling better to ski the next day but I went to bed early anyhow. The next morning brought more misery, and Freya went off to find some powder turns while I caught a bus back to Poulsbo. Back home I made miso soup and crawled back into bed for a few hours hoping to sleep it off. Woke up and my left eye was itchy, head still hurt like heck, feeling generally awful, and as much as I didn't want to go to the doctor this was a better time than ever. Pinkeye and a sinus infection, hooray! Just what I wanted for Christmas!! I was afraid this was going to happen since I never quite got rid of the sinus thing I had over the summer. Crud. Antibiotics kicked the pinkeye in a few days and I actually started feeling better within a couple of days. Better enough in fact, after 2 days of family time on Christmas eve and day, it was time to SKI!!!!!
Kit had only one prior day of skiing in Washington, back in 2009, in rather unspectacular conditions on the southern side of Mt. Rainier. With his visit this year I promised to show him what real NW skiing was like, so I called up my good friend who lives near Crystal Mountain and knows the backcountry there like no other after 15+ years of exploring it. Ever the early bird, Eric wanted us to meet in Tacoma at 6 AM. Ouch! I pushed for 6:30 since it was an hour 15 or so to get there and getting up before 5 is so painful it should only be reserved for big climbs like Shasta... especially for us spoiled Tahoe folks who can get up at a leisurely 7 or 8 and still get fresh tracks if we pick the right spot.
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| Crystal, from across the valley |
Since Eric's car was full we ended up taking the van all the way up, and that proved interesting around Greenwater when the road suddenly turned into an ice rink and we watched a Toyota SUV slide sideways into the guard rail. We made it safely to a pullout and put on chains, then back on the road only to hear a horrendous cacophony of whacking coming from the back wheels. Pull over again, Kit fiddles with the loose ends to try and tie them up, a minute later back on the road. Whack whack whack! WTF!! Hop out, fix again. The road is suddenly clear, but chains are finally quiet and we conclude that once the chains come off the road will turn nasty again. A few minutes go by and WHACK WHACK! Pull over once more and find a chain link broken, guess they'll have to come off after all. Luckily the road was clear all the way up to the Crystal Mountain parking lot and we arrived without further ado.
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| Blue skies on the hike up |
The lots were crammed and fully loaded trams rolled past up to the resort as we put skins on and started hiking. Only one other car was in the upper lot at the trailhead so we guessed it might be a good day to be out skinning rather than riding lifts. Between my recent sickness and Kit's poor choice of ski poles (no powder baskets) we straggled along behind Eric as he broke trail--a steep one at that--darned splitboarders! With such a steep skin track Kit and I both discovered that our G3 skins seemed to lack grip above a certain angle, struggling on switchbacks and sliding backwards in comically frustrating fashion. Not a track was seen upon reaching the ridge top across from the resort, and we traversed along to Eric's chosen drop in spot. The sun even came out, throwing the Tahoe contingent into a slight panic given our experience with sun on snow in southern parts: it turns to gloppy mush and not much fun. In the Northwest though it stays pretty cold, so we had nothing to fear.
The first run proved as amazing as I hoped, not the deepest snow but incredibly cold and light, drifting into the air at every turn. All too quickly it was over and we switched back to tour mode to climb up for one more run. Now the first hike turned out to be a piece of cake compared with this one, between the switchbacks lower down and following our steep down tracks farther up. Coupled with slipping skins and dumb poles it seemed to take me ages to reach the top again, often cutting my own shallower switchbacks across the slope. Making up for the frustration was run 2: 2000 feet of fast, light, and perfectly untracked snow, with a great view of the increasingly bumpy slopes at the resort. Whoops and hollers so loud they echoed across the canyon were let loose with every face shot and slashed turn. The search for powder was finally satisfied, at least for the day, as we crossed the parking lot to the van on tired legs. No skiing pictures as we were too excited to stop and take them...
