Feb/120
A Diamond in the Rubies
Is it worth the long drive to Nevada’s Ruby Mountains for backcountry skiing? A Tahoe couple goes in search of a legendary couloir
Story and photos by Brennan Lagasse
The Dogs lounging in camp only 30 minutes from the car.
About halfway between Tahoe and Salt Lake City lies the hidden gem known as “the Rubies.” Unless you’ve traveled I-80 through the Nevada desert on a clear day, the only way I bet you’ve heard of the Rubies is because there’s a heli-op.
It’s true. That’s actually one reason I always have questioned going. Imagine skinning all day, only to be a few hundred feet away from the top of your objective — and then a helicopter lands on the peak and your hard-won line gets poached!
Not the sort of daydream that usually gets us to visit epic backcountry locales. Take that thought and add snowmobiles racing up and down the access road to some of the best backcountry skiing, and there you have why it’s been so easy for me to put off this trip across the Nevada desert.
The funny thing is, my fears were justified — but we found amazing turns anyway. The heli was flying for the few days we were out there, and in Lamoille Canyon, snowmobiles rule the right of way on the flat access road.
The thing is, if you ski where the heli isn’t taking clients, and where the snowmobiles can’t climb the steeps, those “problems” are solved. Actually, we barely saw the heli at all, and the snowmobilers were super friendly, watched out for our dogs, and didn’t really venture off the beaten track.
A road that gets covered for most of the winter bisects Lamoille Canyon. After leaving I-80 in Elko, and stocking up on supplies, it’s a quick 30-minute drive southeast to the access road. As the pavement ends, the road continues five miles to the head of the canyon. This is where most of the snowmobilers go, passing up several points to peel off the road, all which offer amazing skiing.
A local told me a lot of snowmobilers ski and use their sleds to access the higher elevation bowls, chutes and ramps at the end of the unplowed road (8,800 feet). “That’s where most people ski” is what we were told. “There are a few other trailheads to the north, south, east and west, but this is where the best skiing is.”
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“The aesthetics of the couloir are impossible to ignore; a consistent fall line that forces you to be in rhythm and control with each turn.”
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While our objectives included a recon of the area, to see what stashes were available, and if they were worth the five-plus hour drive from Tahoe, we also had a certain line in mind.
Noted ski mountaineer Andrew McLean once wrote a story of his “deepest day ever.” Now, the phrase “deepest day” carries weight regardless of who is saying it. But when McLean said his deepest day was in a couloir that was 20 feet wide for the better part of its length, in the Rubies, I did everything I could to find beta on the line and make it a must for our trip.
It turns out the line is called Terminal Cancer (TC). I know, it is a horrible name for such an aesthetic line, but that was our main ski goal beyond just getting a feel for these new mountains in a new place.
Jillian and I had loaded the overnight gear, and got the dogs ready with their own packs. We started skinning on the access road, knowing at some point TC should be off to our right and was apparently impossible to miss. I had studied the few pictures I could find, and figured it’d be a few hours to skin to the base of the couloir, where we’d set up camp.
Did I say a few hours? I meant a few minutes.
Here’s when the lack of beta laughed at me in the face — the line came into view about 10 minutes from the car! I guess the access road was plowed a bit further than I expected.
Regardless of where you start skinning from, once you’ve got TC in your sights, it’s a short skip over the creek and before you know it, you’re climbing. It caught me so off guard I actually questioned if it was the right line at first. At least it wasn’t a few days to get out there (like I planned for), but it was pretty funny to be dialed for a few nights of winter camping only to set up 30 minutes from the car on day one.
I know it sounds corny, but that night we were treated to a beautiful sunset, with such a ruby glow it would’ve made indulgent businessmen amend their capitalistic ways.
The next morning we were treated to a glorious, unique couloir with 4-6 inches of soft powder perfectly coating the tight corridor. All four of us fit in the walls, and the dogs even stayed just far enough back of the lead skier so as not to prompt me or Jillian to use our “doggy skiing voice,” which sometimes causes people who don’t know us to think something horrible is happening. The line skied at a high 30-degree angle, which made it totally fine for the dogs, but still super fun for us.
Dropping in, the aesthetics of the couloir are impossible to ignore; a consistent fall line that forces you to be in rhythm and control with each turn. The walls glow, and the tightness of your passage only emphasizes how distinctive this line truly is.
But don’t let the narrow confines of TC scare you off. It’s really not that steep. Add in some fresh snow and you have one of the most beautiful, gnarly looking lines in the Lower 48 that in reality is not that puckering to descend or as lethal as its name implies. If you’re claustrophobic, maybe you should reconsider, but for the rest of you, it’s really tough to beat the walled snow alley of a freshly coated TC.
I’d say your main concern, if you are up for skiing complex terrain like this, is making sure the line itself is stable. That is to say, there is little danger from the neighboring walls letting loose any slough into the couloir.
The rest of our time in the Rubies was spent gawking at what seemed to be endless possibilities. Every few hundred feet unveiled a new vantage point as we ascended the access road. The level of difficulty was as diverse as the canyon itself, varying between lines that had closeout airs in the middle, to big 20 degree ramps and bowls that looked like powder magnets.
While I’m not sure if I’d tell you to pass up a trip to Tahoe or Salt Lake for a chance to hit the Rubies, I’d without doubt tell you to at least work in a day or two. The Rubies live up to their name as a “gem” hidden in the rough of the Nevada desert. They are definitely worth a visit, and are definitely worth leaving some tracks.
Lamoille Canyon
If You Go:
* If you’re a backcountry skier without a snowmobile you will be in the minority. Just keep an ear out, let ’em pass, and all will be good.
* is close, and kind of weird. Definitely worth a visit for a beer and some grub on the way in or out. It’s also your best bet for gas, food, random supplies, and getting weird looks for not fitting in (or being a cowboy).
* The snowpack in the Rubies is unique. Super light, dry snow. More like the Wasatch than the Sierra. Lots of signs of instability strewn about Lamoille Canyon (at least when I’ve been there). Be cautious and make safe decisions.
* Lamoille Canyon is just the tip of the iceberg. Get a topo map and ponder the possibilities. The Rubies are 80 miles long with a number of peaks topping 11,000 feet.
* If there’s been a bunch of new snow, expect much longer approaches to the mouth of Lamoille Canyon via an unplowed access road (unless you have a snowmobile).
* Terminal Cancer is worth a trip to the Rubies, all by itself.
Brennan Lagasse is a writer, teacher and mountain guide living in Lake Tahoe. No longer averse to heli ops, this season he’ll be guiding a first of its kind heli-accessed ski touring program in the Chugach Range of Alaska with Points North Heli-Adventures, www.alaskaheliski.com/experience/heli-access-ski-touring/.
Feb/120
Dale Bard: “In the dead of winter”
A selection from the new book, Yosemite Epics: Tales of Adventure from America’s Greatest Playground, compiled by ASJ contributor Matt Johanson.
In the mid-70s, renowned “dirtbag” climber Dale Bard decided to take his first backcountry ski trip — a big one, some 250 miles along the Sierra Crest, in mid-winter with friend and wilderness ranger Nadim Melkonian.
Over the next 44 days, they were pummeled by heavy snowstorms, narrowly escaped avalanche burial and courted starvation. But it was all part of a grand adventure, according Bard.
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A fixture of Yosemite in the 1970s, Dale Bard became famous for both his bold climbing and his frugal lifestyle. Bard lived in a converted bakery van and sustained himself on peanut butter and potatoes for weeks at a time, earning kudos from Climbing Magazine for perfecting the “dirtbag” lifestyle. Though with first ascents of Half Dome’s Bushido and El Capitan’s Sea of Dreams and Sunkist routes to his credit, the climber wrote his name indelibly in the record book.
Bard describes in glowing terms a formidable ski trek that most would consider a grueling ordeal. With companion Nadim Melkonian, the 23-year-old outdoorsman set out to trace the John Muir Trail in January of 1976. Expecting good weather and fast conditions, the pair planned to finish in three weeks. But storms repeatedly pounded the skiers who survived multiple avalanches and dire food shortages on a journey more than twice as long as expected. —Matt Johanson
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“We kept skiing, but all hell broke loose at Muir Pass. A huge storm nailed us and pinned us down for three days.”
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When I was young and foolish, Nadim Melkonian and I took a fairly extensive ski trip through the mountains, about 250 miles. We had planned to go in the dead of winter, because I was a knucklehead and wanted a true winter ski tour. We did the High Route from Sequoia National Park to Yosemite Valley. We came in on the west from an area called Panther Gap, over the Sierra to Mt. Whitney, and then we grabbed the John Muir Trail, sort of, because of course you can’t see it in winter.
I wasn’t supposed to ski with Nadim, but his partner bailed out on him. Nadim was bummed and moping around. He had already cached all this food along the route. So on a lark I decided to go with him. I had no gear, so I went down to the mountain shop and bought everything I needed. At that time, I had an alpine skiing background, not any cross country skiing experience per se. The only downside was the equipment was so different. But once you know how to ski, you just go skiing. I got on a pair of Atomics, truly skinny, metal-edged skis I had to repair multiple times on the trip. We left on Jan. 20 and planned to take 21 days. We were gone 44.
At the time, Nadim was the Snow Creek Cabin ranger, which was most helpful. We got to use a lot of the wilderness rangers’ cabins along the way to stash our food. Every once in a while, we actually got to spend a night in a cabin, which was cool. We had one the first night, and one by Charlotte Dome, and another by University Peak. So for a while it was almost like hut skiing, and we got spoiled.
We made it over Forester Pass before we got nailed by the first storm. We were on schedule, moving fast. We thought it would be no problem to make 15 or 20 miles per day. Then once we got over Forester, four feet of snow dumped on us. We kept skiing, but all hell broke loose at Muir Pass. A huge storm nailed us and pinned us down for three days. We pitched our tent inside the John Muir Hut, a stone structure there which kept us out of the whiteout. But we were running out of food and had to get to our next cache.
More than 12 feet of snow came down in two days. We were breaking trail chest-deep. This is pre-GPS and we got totally disoriented in Goddard Canyon. It got dark and we were still in whiteout conditions. We set up our dome tent in a grove of trees. You could just hear the avalanches kicking down all around us. We heard this one come down pretty loud and the walls of our tent started getting spattered. An avalanche produces quite a gust of wind.
Later, Nadim looks at his watch. Even though it’s pitch black, he says, “Dale, it’s 8 in the morning.”
I say, “That’s ridiculous!”
We unzipped the door of the tent and there’s a wall of snow there.
What happened was the avalanche broke up as it hit the trees but still buried our tent under five feet of snow. We had to shovel the snow into the tent to dig out, and then we had to dig the snow back out of the tent again. We had just one small snow shovel so that took a couple of hours.
It was really hilarious and we kept laughing at each other. We were totally lucky and dodged a bullet. We were just far enough out of the avalanche’s path. As I look back on it, we should have died. Obviously we were idiots as far as avalanche awareness goes. The next day a second avalanche buried us up to our knees.
At this point, we were getting very close to not making it. We survived on one tea bag and half a stick of butter for three days. We were way off course and finally we had to break into this dude ranch. We were so hungry and when we broke in there was a jar of peanut butter on the table. Neither one of us could open it because our cold hands didn’t work. So we sat in the hot springs there and salivated over the jar until we had the strength and the coordination to open it.
Inside the ranch there was a 55-gallon drum full of food sealed up for the fall. We opened it up and resupplied and that enabled us to get to our next food cache. If we hadn’t made it to the dude ranch, I think it would have been pretty critical. I left a note with my address saying what we had done and to contact me for damages. I left $10 I had with me. They saved our asses so I figured it was the least I could do.
Ten more feet of snow dumped while we were there. Finally the weather cleared and we left the ranch. Then this helicopter came cruising by us. There were a lot of rescues going on in the mountains at that time because the storm caught a lot of folks unprepared. The pilot held a hover and asked, did we want a rescue? We said, “Hell no, we’re fine!” By that point we were absolutely determined.
And so we went on to our next food cache, which was 20 feet down in the snow. We dug down and got that and kept on skiing. In a way, I hated it when we got to a food cache. It bummed me out because I’d have a beautiful light pack, and then when we got the food, I’d have to carry 45 pounds again. But every cache had a little treat, like Oreos or M&Ms, so we knew we’d get something special and that made us happy.
On a tour that long, you get used to it, kind of like big wall climbing. You get up in the morning and ski until dark. At the end of the day, you make camp and do your chores and go to bed. Then you get up and go again. It’s like a 9 to 5 job.
We were caught in more storms and whiteouts after that. It was a pretty epic year. We ran out of food again. We managed to come in behind Mammoth Lakes. There was another hot springs area that had a cabin, and we broke into that and got more food. There was a pay phone there and though we had no money, I called collect and luckily reached my girlfriend Janet. By this time we were 20 days late and everybody thought we were dead. So she was glad to hear from me although she was mad at first.
We got nailed by a horrendous storm on the back side of Mammoth and contemplated skiing out. I looked at Nadim and said, “We’ve been fighting for this trip the whole time, and there’s maybe 45 miles to go.” He looked at me and we agreed to keep on going. We wanted it and by that time we had skied almost 200 miles. What’s another 45? It seemed like a mere pittance. We were just three days from Tuolumne even with the trail breaking we had to do.
The weather broke and we had some blue bird days. Finally we hit Tuolumne Meadows. We were out of food again but knew of the wilderness post up there. We really surprised the rangers there when we pulled up. “Where are you coming from?” they asked. When we told them, they looked at us like we were nuts. Anne Macquarie and her husband Chas took such good care of us. They made us this wonderful meal with fresh bread. We stayed two days there. We were in heaven and didn’t want to leave.
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“At this point, we were getting very close to not making it. We survived on one tea bag and half a stick of butter for three days.”
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Then we just skied back into the Valley. It was very surreal when we got a little bit below Snow Creek Cabin. When we put our skis on our packs and hiked on dirt, that was a very interesting thing after so long in the snow. And it was just weird to see people again. I went to see Janet at the restaurant in the Valley where she worked as a waitress. By this time I was sub-100 pounds. Everyone looked at us like we were ghosts or something. Janet dropped everything and ran over and put a wet one on me in front of the entire restaurant. Then she sat me down and fed me. I had a craving for hot chocolate and whipped cream. I must have had ten cups of that stuff in a row!
Next spring, I’m in Yosemite and I got a letter in the mail from the dude ranch people. The note said they were glad to help out and they returned my $10!
I never looked at it as life-threatening. It was something where we persevered. Nadim was a good partner to hang with, real solid. I learned a lot about skiing and became a better skier. I was such a knucklehead back then. I thought I was invincible, so I did stupid tricks all the way through the trip in steep, scary bowls. I look at those bowls today and there’s no way I would do that again.
As I’ve told many people, I don’t plan an epic. I didn’t plan this to be an epic. Sometimes you’ve just got to work through it. It was just a good adventure and fun to be out there.
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Ironically enough, Dale Bard, the one-time self-described “idiot of avalanche awareness,” is now the chief operating officer for Ortovox USA, a leading maker of avalanche transceivers, shovels, probes and backpacks. Though known mostly for his impressive rock-climbing exploits, Bard is also a talented skier who ticked some fearsome first descents in the Eastern Sierra, including the classic Cocaine Chutes above Tioga Pass. And yes, he’s the brother of the late Allan Bard, a well-known mountain guide who died while climbing the Grand Teton in 1997.
Dec/110
The Endless Slope
A safer way to learn
Story by Haven Livingston
The author gets her shiver-free lesson. Photo courtesy of Adventurous Sports
Each and every year, my mood darkens with the arrival of the first snowflakes. It’s not that I’m against winter as a season—it’s more that I miss my favorite outdoor pursuits, which all involve fair weather. And truth be told, I have a bad relationship with particular winter activities, namely skiing and snowboarding. Winter’s arrival has traditionally resulted in a seasonal downward spiral of my life’s overall fun factor, but that may be changing, sooner than later.
While the outdoorsy folks around me seem to revel in the season, its arrival sends me into a panic, searching for the nearest exit door that leads south. Friends proudly strut their new snow gear while I hold a death grip on my bikini and sandals, ready for any chance to bail to a warmer clime. I would like to think there is nothing wrong with this reaction. After all, millions of birds migrating south every winter couldn’t be wrong. But after so many years of bemoaning and running from winter, I am beginning to realize that I could be missing out on some thrilling, snowy fun.
Snowboarding and skiing have an obvious appeal to most outdoor enthusiasts: bending the body into sweeping, graceful turns, the rush of speed, the quiet beauty of a winter landscape. Being a surfer, and a climber who occasionally looks for a quicker way off the mountain, I have to admit I am intrigued. However, my problem isn’t just that I don’t like winter. I am actually afraid of snow, or more precisely, steep snowy slopes.
The fear began with a traumatic childhood experience. I was frozen—a deer in headlights–at the top of my first bunny hill and forced to go down it against my will. My run (and the rest of my day) ended abruptly when I careened off course and crash-landed into a small stream. My fear was reinforced with a one-day snowboarding adventure in graduate school that left me with a debilitating back injury. I hadn’t made any effort to befriend the snow for eight years until last winter. A no pressure, three-day introduction to downhill skiing sparked a desire as I connected my first few turns. Thus, I am now determined to give winter a chance, and to even learn to love the “pow”.
School Me
Learning a new sport as an adult is not only a physical challenge, it also can be a humbling mental exercise. This is especially true when five-year-old “rippers” zoom past you, or when you have a fearful memory to overcome.
Teaching yourself can be a painful waste of time. Unfortunately, learning from friends can also be a lost cause if your friends are long time skiers. They tend to give you ridiculous instructions like, “just follow me and do what I do–you’ll be fine.” This might reflect a foggy memory they have from taking lessons at age seven, but this technique certainly doesn’t reflect the realities of physical learning. As adults, we have busy lives and want the most efficient learning process possible so we can start following our friends on the slopes. Yes, finding professional help was the only way I would get back on a snowboard.
Much to my relief, I learned that I didn’t have to buy a lift ticket, gear, or warm clothing to begin my journey into snowboarding. I also didn’t have to wait in line or fear getting creamed by people flying down the mountain at light speed. I simply drove to the Potrero Hill area of San Francisco, and hopped on the Endless Slope.
Endless Slope
Instructor Hebért demonstrates a heel-side turn. Photo courtesy of Adventurous Sports
Endless Slope in San Francisco is owned by Adventurous Sports, a business dedicated to helping people find their way to fit and happy lives. Brightly lit and colorfully painted, the Endless Slope studio houses little more than the equipment itself: a giant treadmill for skiers and snowboarders. The sloped, six by six-foot deck is covered in carpet, and bordered in front and back by safety bars. The instructor has full control over the speed of the treadmill, and the boarder is harnessed to the back bar as an extra precaution. Boots and skis or boards are provided.
When I arrived for my introductory session, my anxiety immediately fell away. The atmosphere is completely non-threatening (there was no snow or five year old rippers). My lesson was one-on-one with professional instructor Ian-Michael Hébert. Hailing from Alaska, Hébert is at home in the snow and on the slopes. With a resume full of experience in coaching, teaching, training and a level two certification from the American Association of Snowboard Instructors, he provides expert instruction for all levels and ages. He’s one of five instructors for Endless Slope, all with equally impressive backgrounds.
Hébert kept things light and simple and got right to the point. After an overview of snowboarding on the ground, I was gliding down the carpet, finding my balance and being instructed on the key points of snowboarding success. We covered the basics of how to slide, stop, turn from front to back, and the beginning motions of carving turns.
The endless slope is the perfect learning tool for skiers and boarders. The focus is to develop the muscle memory needed to react quickly to situations without having to think first. Lessons are tailored to suit the individual from beginner to expert. A beginner’s advantage is that instructors will catch inefficient movements before they become bad habits and guide the student to develop their own riding sense naturally. Intermediate and expert riders can focus on specific technical skills they want to develop.
Along the way, you also get a great workout. The number of turns made in a half-hour session on the treadmill is roughly the same to an entire day on the slopes, but the number of falls on the Endless Slope is usually zero.
During my time on the slope, Hébert was patient and thoughtful with his instruction. By the end of my second session I felt myself becoming more secure in my balance, and was feeling the rhythm of carving. I wasn’t comfortable enough to completely abandon the railing, but I was close. Two or three more sessions and I’m certain I would be ready to hit the slopes with enough confidence and endurance to enjoy a full weekend on the snow. It’s an exciting prospect to think about finding joy in something that I have been afraid of for so long.
Hebért guiding one of the younger clients in the fundamentals of skiing. Photo courtesy of Adventurous Sports
On my way out the door I passed a family of four on their way in. With kids ages four and five they explained that they came every weekend as a family event because it was easier than driving to the snow. The kids tore around the room, excited to get their gear on, while the parents chilled out and watched them learn. “When they’re old enough to last a whole day on the mountain, then we’ll take them,” the parents explained, “but for now, they love this!”
This method of learning is smart and efficient for both the body and pocket book. Using the Endless Slope as a beginner’s classroom saves time and money that would have been spent on long drives, rentals, lift tickets and group lessons with many distractions. I also saved myself from all the falls and bruises, cold lift rides, and potentially embarrassing moments on resort slopes. Clearly the Endless Slope was the perfect way for me to ease my way back onto the snow. I also highly recommend it as an excellent way to get warmed up for the upcoming season of riding or skiing, regardless of your ability level.
For more information, or to book a lesson, contact Adventurous Sports at 415-397-7678 or visit them at www.adventurous.com. You can see more on the Endless Slope at www.endlesslope.com
Oct/111
The Ultimate California Combo
A foggy morning at Pleasure Point, Santa Cruz.
From pow to swells, the Golden State is ripe for achieving the elusive ski-and-surf-in-a-day tandem
By Brennan Lagasse
There’s nothing like the feeling of sliding on snow. Then again, there’s nothing quite like the feeling of riding a wave. It doesn’t get much better than doing both in the same day, and there are few if any places in the world that provide a better opportunity to bag this elusive logistical tandem than California.
Luckily for us, the coast-to-mountains ratio is not only favorably close, but the access to get to both isn’t bad either. While the drive is usually nothing to sneeze at, usually on the order of three hours or so, it’s reasonable enough that it doesn’t take great strains to make the transition from mountains to sea, or vice versa.
Up and down California, the possibility is there, though the geographic and logistical challenges vary. Here’s a run down of the prime ski-and-surf in a day opportunities in the Golden State:
Plenty of fluff in the trees, Luther Pass, South Lake Tahoe, November 2010.
For the So Cal crowd your waves are plentiful, but your choices in the mountains are a bit slimmer and the snow quite a bit more fickle. Still, if you wake up to surf one of the many world-class breaks in the region —— Rincon, Malibu, Trestles, Swami’s, etc. — the San Gabriel Mountains are just a couple hours or so away, trafflc willing. With proper planning and a dawn-patrol start, you can surf through the morning commute, and be dropping into your first lap on Mt. Baldy before most cubicle-ites have taken lunch.
Moving north to Central and Northern California, the drive time between the ocean and the mountains goes up considerably, but your chance to score quality waves and quality snow increase considerably as well.
From Monterey to Sonoma County, numerous breaks line the coast. Of course the ocean is always dependent on swell, wind, weather, and tide, but if there’s something to paddle out for, there’s a proper break on this stretch of coastline that can handle it.
Not only that, but Tahoe and the great ““Range of Light”” are only 3-5 hours away depending on where you’re at. Not bad at all, especially if you happen to catch an early season powder day hiking in Tahoe for the morning, and make it to Santa Cruz for a clean SSW-pulse lighting up the coast before sunset.
It’s not as hard as it might sound. You could easily spend the morning skiing off the famed slopes accessible from Squaw’s KT-22, one of the best chairlifts in the world, or earning your turns on Donner Pass in the north or Carson Pass in the south. Both passes give you high-elevation snowlines, and a wealth of amazing accessible ski terrain. Backcountry options are endless, but you also have great lift-served options with places like Sugar Bowl off I-80, Kirkwood off Hwy 88, and Sierra-at-Tahoe off Hwy 50. When thinking of a snow-to-waves adventure, these areas provide you with some world-class terrain and provide some of the closest access to or from the coast.
Further north, you’d think the chances would continue to improve, but geography doesn’t facilitate that very easily. A trip to ski Lassen Peak or the flanks of Mount Shasta is a possibility, linking up the water portion of the day with the North Coast a few hours across the twisty, turny Highway 299 from Redding. But up there there’s even an easier way to get the mission done.
Horse Mountain in Humboldt County, 45 minutes from Arcata, will probably not be the best snow you’ve ever skied in your life (then again I did have one powder day a few years back where 48-52” fell overnight). You can see the ocean from the summit on a clear day, and you’re more likely to experience the most diverse snow conditions of your life here than anything else. The snow at Horse (elev. 4, 941 feet) is just good enough to satisfy the itch of snow junkies in the area.
While attending graduate school at Humboldt State University, a mere hour’s drive to dropping in on Horse, I was 100% that guy. I figured out on the right day, depending on the tides, I could easily surf a dawn-patrol session, be up at Horse and get a few runs in, and still make it to afternoon classes on time. There were the rare days when the surf was good enough that the most sensible thing to do in between high-and-low tide was to go skiing at Horse Mountain after a dawn- patrol session, then return for a sunset surf, making Horse the meat of the North Coast surfing sandwich.
Of all the natural mediums that cause us to dream beyond our comfort zones, skiing and surfing are two of the most amazing feelings one can experience on this planet. I know there’s a reason why my dogs are named snow (Nieve) and waves (Olas) in Spanish.
In our great state we’re never at a loss for spending quality time outside. Next time you’re letting those creative juices flow, figure out how to lock into one of the most classic California days imaginable and get a surf-and-ski day in.
That night’s beer may be as tasty and rewarding as any you’ve ever earned before!
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Brennan Lagasse is a backcountry reporter for Unofficial Networks, environmental consultant, and generally tireless adventurer based in Tahoe. When the storm winds blow, he often gets his surf fix on Lake Tahoe while waiting for the snow to fall.
Feb/111
Mammoth Extends Reach
Mammoth Mountain is a massive sleeping volcano that last erupted some 50,000 years ago when it was even bigger, perhaps as high as 18,000 feet. The Main Lodge is bottom right.
With daily flight service from the Bay, Mammoth lures Nor Cal skiers to the High Sierra
By Pete Gauvin • Photos by MMSA/Peatross
It is only by virtue of geographic inconvenience that Mammoth Lakes is considered more a playground for Southern California than Northern California. If it were not for a wall of snow-caked mountains in the way — chiefly Yosemite National Park and the Ansel Adams Wilderness — Mammoth would likely be Nor Cal’s winter alternative to Tahoe.
Look at a map: Mammoth is directly east of the Bay Area, at virtually the same latitude as Hayward and San Mateo. By way of the bird, the Bay Area is closer to Mammoth than Los Angeles. If you had wings, you might care.
Without them, the drive to Mammoth in winter is more than most Nor Cal skiers want to undertake; some 6-8 hours from the Bay Area on clear roads. Plus you have to drive right by the temptations of Tahoe — and we hear there are some decent mountains to ski there, too.
Indeed, for Bay Area and other Nor Cal skiers, “Mammoth” … well, that might as well describe the drive. And so, heretofore, Mammoth has largely been left to Southern Californians, who have no significant mountain passes to cross, nothing approaching Tahoe in their path, just a few hundred miles of sagebrush-lined asphalt to channel them up the backside of the Sierra.
That’s not going to change. But with the advent of direct flights from San Francisco and San Jose this season, Bay Area skiers and boarders can now jump the topographical fence in little more than an hour and find themselves at one of the most unique, dramatic and naturally well-endowed ski mountains in North America.
Winging It
Through April 25, there is one flight daily out of SFO on United (departing 3:50 pm), and one flight out of San Jose on Horizon (12:30 pm weekdays; 3:10 weekends). (There are two daily flights from LA.)
And the cost of flying is on par with driving. Flights range from as low as $29 one way from San Jose, $59 one way from SFO. If you’re flexible, there are some tremendous weekday deals. Through February, Mammoth is offering a four-day/four-night midweek fly, ski and stay package for $99 a day from San Jose, $109 from SFO. (Check mammothmountain.com/flyskistay for details.) For comparison, a one-day adult lift ticket runs $92.
Once on the ground, it’s easy to get around without a car. It’s only an eight-mile shuttle ride from the airport to the closest lift. In town, the free Mammoth Trolley runs every 20 minutes until 2:30 in the morning.
You can grab a coffee in town at the Looney Bean and head for the mountain, enjoy a pint of Real McCoy Amber Ale from the Mammoth Brewing Company at the popular Whiskey Creek restaurant and bar, or head to the actual brewery tasting room (open daily 10-6) two blocks away for a full sampling. There’s the also the Euro-style pedestrian village at the base of the mountain with a selection of shops, bars and eateries.
Blessed by Geography
There’s the Sierra and then there’s the High Sierra. Though often used interchangeably, they are not one in the same. The true High Sierra, as noted author/guide John Moynier has pointed out, begins near the northern boundary of Yosemite and Matterhorn Peak, the northern most 12,000-foot peak in the Sierra, and extends southward 175 miles through the Whitney Zone.
Mammoth and sister resort June Mountain are the only developed ski areas in the true High Sierra, where the relief from sageland to summit is most dramatic.
Due to its geographic position and altitude, Mammoth often gets more snowfall than Tahoe resorts, an average of 32 feet annually. This season it nearly equaled that by January with an astounding 370 inches.
Sitting on the eastern flank of the range, one would guess the mountain might suffer from the rainshadow effect. But the San Joaquin River canyon funnels Pacific haymakers up to a low section in the Sierra Crest allowing moisture-laden air to cross to the east side, where it’s wrung out by the broad volcanic peak topping 11,000 feet.
The mountain, which has been snoozing since its last eruption some 50,000 years ago, is the remains of a humungous volcano that may have been as tall as 18,000 feet. Imagine, for a second, the vert we’d be talking about had it not blown its top!
Still, Mammoth more than justifies its name. The resort’s base of nearly 8,000 feet is as high as some Tahoe resorts, yet it still offers more than 3100 feet of vertical. It’s all sprawled over 3500 acres served by 28 lifts (including three gondolas) and three base areas: Canyon Lodge, Eagle Lodge and Main Lodge.
All this in a stunning Alps-like setting framed by the steepled summits of the High Sierra and long views of the Great Basin out east.
On the Mountain
Mammoth’s upper mountain is entirely above treeline and offers some of the steepest skiing in the West, including the famous Cornice Bowl. Beginner and intermediate skiing can be found all over the mountain.
The backside, close to a thousand acres and served by only two lifts, Chairs 13 and 14, is a good place to find both sunshine and powder. It features big bowls up top and well-spaced tree skiing below. Hemlock Ridge just beyond Santiago Bowl is a great place to hike for turns. After about a 400-foot vertical hike, a steep descent leads down to Chair 14.
Though not well publicized, Mammoth has an open-gate policy. The most popular expression of this is skiing off the top of the Mammoth Crest, a big palisades running right behind Mammoth Mountain toward the south, with multiple runs that all drain back to the Tamarack/Twin Lakes area, where the Tamarack Lodge and cross-country center are located. The most popular and unique out-of-bounds run is “Hole in the Wall,” a steep chute through a lava tube that forms a natural tunnel.
From Tamarack, you can catch a free shuttle bus that runs every hour on the hour back to the village and town.
If you work up an appetite but don’t want to leave the slopes, keep an eye out for Mammoth’s latest culinary creation, the Roving Mammoth, a snowcat that roams the mountain like an all-terrain taco truck, selling burritos for $5.50.
If you like your burritos with lots of corn, wait till spring. That’s when Mammoth’s ‘Great Corn Factory’ produces that buttery hero snow ripe for carving and serves it typically longer than any resort in the country. Last year, Mammoth was open until Independence Day.
June Mountain
For a change of pace, Mammoth tickets are also good at June Mountain, a hidden gem of a resort about 10 miles north on Hwy 395. There’s a shuttle roughly every hour, opening the possibility for a double day.
Overlooking the June Lake Loop, with jagged mountain peaks right behind it and views of austere Mono Lake out east, June is more of a purist’s mountain. No roaming burrito snowcats here.
Although it gets less snow than Mammoth, about 250 inches a year, June is known for its powder because it’s so uncrowded for its size. While a weekend at Mammoth can draw 20,000 people, a big day at June is 2000 people. And its acreage is still substantial, about two-thirds the size of Mammoth. It has seven lifts and 2,500 feet of vertical with a variety of terrain, including some great tree skiing.
Tamarack Cross-Country
Another great way to mix up a week of skiing at Mammoth is to stretch out the legs and lungs on the 19 miles of groomed trails at Tamarack Cross-Country in the scenic Lakes Basin. Adult day passes are $27. The ski school run by two-time Olympian Nancy Fiddler can help iron out your skating or diagonal stride imperfections. Snowshoe trails are also offered.
However you choose to wrap up a trip to Mammoth, with the new flight service there’ll be no worries about fatiguing yourself because you’re facing a long drive home. Enjoy your wings.
Dec/100
Lake Tahoe Backcountry Vertical Competition launched by Alpenglow Sports, Tahoe City
Sports, North Lake Tahoe’s premier backcountry ski and outdoor retailer for more than 30 years, has partnered with industry-leading outdoor manufacturers Black Diamond, Dynafit North America, Patagonia, and Marmot to create an unprecedented challenge for the region’s backcountry skiing community.
“Tahoe’s consistently deep snowpack, long spring season and copious bluebird powder days have spawned a tremendously motivated backcountry user group that cumulatively, put in an astounding amount of human powered vertical each winter,” says Alpenglow Sports general manager Brendan Madigan, who with challenge co-creator Jeff Dostie, another admitted backcountry powder addict, logs more than half a million vertical feet each season. “Our goal is track that data and use it to unite and inspire the entire backcountry skiing community.”
This free, “earn-your-turns” event will be characterized by a simple on-line format at www.TahoeVertical.com, where participants can enter their daily vertical feet collected on skis, snowboard, and snowshoe or simply hiking. The challenge will collect data from all participants from Dec. 10, 2010 through May 1, 2011.
The inaugural 2010/11 “Lake Tahoe Backcountry Vertical Competition” will award grand prizes from Black Diamond, Dynafit North America, Patagonia and Marmot to the top three men and women, as well as display daily updates on the overall vertical feet collected by the community throughout the season.
As Lake Tahoe’s original backcountry ski shop, Alpenglow Sports seeks to encourage human-powered backcountry skiing and riding in Lake Tahoe’s world-class terrain while creating a shared forum that is both fun and inspiring. Backcountry users of all levels are encouraged to participate, from professionals to weekend warriors. Weekly raffles will also be held for all participants. The contest will rely solely on honest and accurate data entry from all participants, false entries and exaggerations will not be accepted.
For specific rules and regulations, please see www.TahoeVertical.com, call Alpenglow Sports at 530.583.6917 or email brendan@alpenglowsports.com
Oct/090
Warren Miller’s World Premier of Dynasty is Tomorrow in Salt Lake City
Coming to Nor Cal in November
