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Having negotiated a hallpass, I made my way up to Tahoe on Friday night of Thanksgiving weekend. I left late, so I brought along the mandatory 2-pack red bull driver's companion. I made it in one piece and promptly crashed out in the Tahoe Pad. Early the next morning, I picked up my new minty green sumos at the Backcountry in Tahoe City, where they had mounted up my hammerheads & UTB lifters. Coffee and a bagel at Syds, and then down the west shore towards Carson Pass. En route, one couldn't help but notice that the entire top of the Tallac's north bowl was windblown down to the rock. Not a skiable line to be found on this aspect. Hmm.... I sure hope the snow's better 20 miles south of here. I
arrived
Chris, his dog Sierra and I then began the skin up towards the
Round Top/Sisters saddle. As the slope steepened, Chris
popped on his Burton split-crampons. My skins held fine,
however, so I continued cruising up the slope. "Shit!"
I turn around to see Chris on his stomach, sliding downhill,
with his splitboard below him and boots in the full heel-up
position -- basically th
Catastrophe avoided, we continue uphill. We pause for a
snack at the flat spot at the base of the Cresent Moon Couloir.
It looks absolutely unskiable in these low snow conditions
(photo). Chris thinks it could
I
skinned back up to Chris and started needling him. Only
because he is otherwise the most organized and together
backcountry traveler can I get away with this. "Dude,
you are struggling.com." I'm rewarded with a smile.
We continue up towards the saddle with Sierra in tow.
Looking back,
Looking Across to Devil's Corral From Round Top For
a brief second I contemplate running up to the higher east su
Looking back at Round Top from the east Sister. I
finally get up to Chris, who is piecing together his
splitboard. The plan is to drop the chute, bank hard
right and head over to the lower bowl and look for Chris's
sunglasses. Chris drops in first. Some nice turns
and he's at the bottom waiting for Sierra and me to follow.
But Sierra is spooked Working our way back down to Chris's camp, we don't find the sunglasses, but we do actually find a small stash of powder below a small cliff band -- only about four turns worth, but hey, I'm not complaining. We also find a natural half-pipe lower down, which I promptly arc into and eat shit. Chris snickers from afar, happy to know that it is my turn to dork it. Back at camp, we feast on backcountry ambrosia -- red bull, salami and cheese. Its about 2:30. "Think we'll make it to the car by four?", Chris asks. "Sure," I spew confidently. "Half an hour to break camp, and about an hour back to the pass." A leisurely hour later, we're still at the campsite. Oops. Clue #6. We get going around 3:45 or so. Chris doesn't feel like skinning out, so he keeps his splitboard together. He thinks we can slide downhill much of the way, avoiding the need to skin up. I am skeptical. "Um, I think we need to stay pretty high and close to Elephants Back to get back to the pass." Chris demurs. "Nah, I came in this way, and it was uphill most of the way." Still skeptical, but unwilling to split up, I follow. A half mile later, we come upon a creek. "Um, Chris, I think we're way too low. Creeks flow downhill, yet we're trying to get up to a pass. I think we're hosed." Chris looks unconvinced, and the map is buried deep in the pack. Laziness trumps cautiousness; we continue on. By this point, its getting dark, and we are bushwacking through increasingly thicker trees. I tell myself this could be the beginning of a mini-epic. But I know that in a pinch we can simply jam down the drainage to the highway, so I mellow out somewhat. That said, I'm not relishing the thought of a cold walk up a dark highway in duckbills. I start contouring to the east, but it is too late. We're too low, and I resign myself to a long walk. We get to the highway right as it gets dark. We start walking up the road, but with all of our gear on our backs and a rambunctious dog that seems to want to play chicken with oncoming traffic, that plan quickly becomes just plain stupid. I volunteer to walk up to the pass and bring the car back. Little did I know the pass was nearly 3/4 mile away. Clue #7 hits me and I realize that this was not the most organized bc outing I've ever been on. I get the car, and head back to pick up Chris and Sierra. As we're packing up the car, two headlamps approach on the shoulder of the highway. "Which way is Carson Pass?", asks Headlamp #1. Now even after our dumbness of this day I still know that Carson Pass is uphill from wherever you are on the highway. I point that out to Headlamp #1 and tell them it is "about a mile thataway." I offer them a ride in the back of the Jeep with Sierra. Headlamp #1 conferences with Headlamp #2 and sneaks a furtive glance in the backseat at a drooling and quite hairy Sierra. "No thanks, we'll walk." OK, maybe they were smarter than us. 11/30/02
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