|
After dumping our
overnight gear at the frozen tarn below the glacier,
we donned our lighter packs and skinned up towards
Matterhorn Peak. With my total lack of sleep
(remember I have a four week old baby at this point)
and abysmal conditioning, I quickly fell to my natural
spot as the last in the group. I found myself
counting 50 steps at a time before I would allow
myself to rest. The only problem with this plan
was that I felt like barfing after the 25th step.
Dan was way out in front heading towards the multitude
of chutes coming down from Matterhorn Peak.
Blaine peeled off to the left and climbed up a steep
face that looked like it had some nice snow.
Matt hung back and took some photos.
At the base of
Matterhorn, Chris and I held a conference: which
chute were we going to ski? Since he had already
done the East Couloir, Chris was eyeing the chute on
the west side or the "Ski Dreams" couloir on the east
shoulder of the peak. I had already done Ski
Dreams and to me the West Couloir didn't look as
attractive as the longer East Couloir. While we
sat there debating it, our decision was made for us as
Dan marched up the East Couloir without a rest.
Chris and I started
up the chute, following the bootpack that Dan had
kindly laid down for us. The snow conditions
were nothing to write home about, or if you did write
home about them you would have nothing good to say.
Pockets of windbuffed powder served only to conceal
the evil crust and ice that lurked underneath.
Less than enthused by the conditions, Chris suggested
we turn around. No way, I said, I wanted to keep
going. My determination was fleeting -- we went
about 100 feet higher before I wussed out and changed
my mind. Truth be told, I was completely
exhausted. Normally I am charging up the peaks,
but today I just didn't have it in me. To
continue onward would have guaranteed a quality barf
session back at the tent, so I threw in the towel.
|
)
)
)
)
)
)
BACK
