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  • When the Stars Align – ’26 Summer Climbing

    When the Stars Align – ’26 Summer Climbing

    Patience is rewarded in the mountains. Without it, the backcountry can become quite an unforgiving force. This year I’ve tried to accept the right time to turn around. I’ve bailed from many spring skiing objectives. Twice its happened at the base of Snake Dike. Most recently it was at the trailhead of Temple Crag with overnight bags already packed. But on the third week of July in 2026, my patience finally paid off. Over 9 days the stars aligned and I was able to climb nearly everyday. My buddy Trevor and I made a brutally long mission to Mt. Williamson and Mt. Tyndal. Joe and I climbed 4 more big routes in Tuolumne and Yosemite immeidately after. Shyvonne and I capped off the week climbing and skiing some of the most incredible terrain of the Eastern Sierra. Weeks like this are few and far between. I would not have it any other way.

    Mt. Williamson towering over Owens Valley

    It was a Saturday morning when I began the drive out to the Eastern Sierra. Trevor, my climbing partner from LA, had organized the trip in pursuit of summitting two more California fourteeners. The summer prior we had an epic experience linking Mt. Russel, Mt. Whitney, and Mt. Muir in a single push1. It was a challenging day and we wanted a repeat trip to the less traveled fourteeners neighboring Whitney to the North. Our plan was to travel light and summit both Mt. Williamson and Mt. Tyndall with a short cowboy camp the night prior. Trevor met at the trailhead around 4pm that Saturday afternoon. We didn’t have much time left in the day and quickly packed our bags. Between us was one stove, two sleeping pads & bags, lots of fuel, and some snow climbing gear. Our plan that night was to make it to Anvil camp, approximately 9 miles and 5000 ft towards Sheppard’s Pass.

    One of many stream crossings
    Huge granite walls are everywhere in the Sierra

    The trail started off in a windy path filled with bushes and four distinct stream crossings. It was lucky that we made it through with daylight but knew we might not have the same luxury on the way out. Following the bottom of the drainage was the start of a huge climb up the valley. Sheppard’s pass winds it way through several smaller ridgelines before even entering Mt. Williamson’s vicinity. We reached the first ridge around 7pm and were finally able to see the peak for the first time. It was glorious in the evening light, but following this point was about a 1000 ft of downhill to reach the next prominent ridgeline. By the time we made it there the light was beginning to fade and we were both feeling the pressure of the weekend. We’d have two more hours of hiking that evening and nearly 20 more the next day. Regardless we pushed onto camp and quickly set ourselves up for bed. The stars that night were incredible and set a great ambiance for our backpacking meals. Luckily for us the weather was perfect for a night out in the open and we were falling asleep just after 11 pm.

    The first view of Mt. Williamson
    Sun setting on the Owen’s Valley
    The Sheppard’s Pass snowfield at sunrize

    My alarm rang at 4 am that next morning and I felt ready. Despite our huge hike in the day prior, we still had a couple miles and about 1500 ft of climbing before we reached the end of Sheppard’s Pass. This remarkable alpine zone towered above the valley at 12,000 ft and served as a grazing refuge for herds of livestock in the hot desert summers. In our context, it also allowed passage to the massive Williamson Bowl where both fourteeners lie. The final 500 ft of the pass required crampons as we stepped straight up its snow covered headwall. The sun had risen at this point and we could see thousands of feet into the valley below. Next up was the long cross country journey through the Williamson Bowl several miles away. The views of the high alpine peaks in all directions was glorious but hiking through endless talus made for a tough morning. Although there were still some snowfields left in the bowl, we luckily did not see anything significant in main gully up to Williamson. This West facing gully was about 2000 ft tall and was nearly all loose talus and scree. Before starting up we took a well deserved snack break and took in the enormity of the landscape.

    Incredible views up high
    Making my way towards the Williamson bowl with Mt. Tyndall in view
    Williamson bowl snowfields

    Our ascent up the scree field was slow and steady. Occasionally there were small obstacles like snow and steep sections of rock. Nothing was technically difficult, but we were starting to feel the altitude as we approached 14,000 ft. At 10 am we had one remaining obstacle between us and the summit plateau. This ~100 ft chimney was Sierra fourth class and turned out to be an exciting treat to cap off the otherwise loose and low angle gully. Downclimbing would be slightly more tricky but we both felt pretty comfortable. In classic fashion, we still had another 20 mins or so of scrambling on the ridge before we got to the true summit. Once we arrived we were granted with one of the most spectacular views of the High Sierra I have ever witnessed. Trevor and I glared at the granite panorama in awe. To the South was Mt. Whitney’s cirque, our climbing epic from the summer prior. To the North was the grand Palisade Crest, a ridgeline we both admired greatly. Mt. Williamson is the 2nd highest peak in the Sierra and rewarded us with a great sense of accomplishment to start the day.

    Trevor making his way up Mt. Williamson’s West Face gully
    Trevor on his way up the 4th class chimney
    View from Mt. Williamson’s summit, looking south towards Mt. Whitney

    After about 10 mins we snapped back to reality. Up next we would have to downclimb the fourth class chimney and then descend another 2000 ft to the bowl below. Surprisingly I was still feeling quite good given the altitude, but Trevor lagged behind slightly. I waited back at the base of the bowl and we both shared another snack break. At this point we discussed Mt. Tyndall. This fourteener was on our way back and in theory had an easy third class scramble to its summit. However from our morning approach below it looked pretty steep and exposed for the grade. I knew we would have to move fast for good conditions on the descent and began to question whether or not we should pursue this 2nd peak. In contrast Trevor was still quite optimistic. We could still descend in the dark and knew that the day would be excruciatingly long in either case. So we took the gamble and continued onwards towards Tyndall.

    Downclimbing the 4th class chimney
    Passing back under Mt. Tyndall’s incredible East Face

    Around 2pm we finally made it to the base of the route. Mt. Tyndall’s North Rib was striking and took a direct route up its face. The beginning 500 ft or so was all loose talus before steepening with increased rock quality. Progress was still slow and steady as we charged up the exposed rib. Due to the snow travel earlier in the day, we both opted for stiff mountaineering boots. These were great for lots of cross country travel, but made the scrambling feel a little less secure than I would have liked. Route finding up high was also difficult and there were several sections where I knew Trevor was uncomfortable. I stayed close and pointed out the way were I could. We’d have to move fast enough to keep daylight but slow enough to feel confident the whole way. The last crux gave way to an easy but exposed ridgeline leading to the summit. Crossing this terrain felt tough. It was slow moving and longer than I expected. We both felt worked at the summit and I was less confident in downclimbing than ascending by far. At least we had another spectacular view in front of us. I tried to admire the shear 2000 ft drop off the East face, but could not truly enjoy the moment while we remained in uncertainty for the descent.

    Trevor ascending the base of Mt. Tyndall’s North Rib
    Somewhere up high on the North Rib
    Mandatory Mt. Tyndall summit selfie

    Another 20 mins later and we arrived back at the crux of the route. Trevor initially did not feel comfortable downclimbing what we had just come up. Briefly we searched for an alternative scree descent but I felt like any new terrain was a huge risk in itself. Instead we reluctantly committed to the descent and began the arduous route finding process. There were several small snowfields, convex roll overs, and slabs to cross. Trevor and I stuck together and made slow progress. In total the route was about 1500 ft and felt like it went on forever. Despite my temporal anxiety, we did made it up and down in just under 4 hours. It was decent pace and set us up well for the return to Owens Valley. I waited for Trevor at the base and finally took a moment to appreciate what we had just accomplished. Neither of the two peaks were easy. We had just ascended nearly 11,000 ft over 20 miles in a day and a half. The only thing left was an 11 mile stretch through Sheppard’s pass for the end of the day.

    The North Rib from below (route is left of the snowfields)
    One last look into the alpine meadows

    Graciously, Trevor led the descent down the Sheppard’s pass headwall. We plunge stepped and glissaded down its softened afternoon snowfield. The sun would go down in another couple of hours and any time save felt like a gift. After another hour or so we finally made it back to our campsite. There we enjoyed our last major snack break and refilled on water for the first time that day. Descending at our current pace would put us at just about a midnight finish. I was feeling the accumulation of so many miles and brought up the idea of jogging down to save some time. Luckily the trail was incredibly straightforward so we decided to both go at our own pace and just meet at the trailhead. Not long after I put in some headphones, laced up my boots, and took off down the trail.

    Descending Sheppard’s Pass

    Surprisingly I felt great after a mile or so and knew I could charge ahead. At the time I was listening to Red Rising’s 2nd book and let my mind drift away as I cruised down the trail. By the time I reached the uphill section the sun was just starting to set. I had cleared the most difficult stretch in just over an hour and enjoyed the momentum of the run. Switching to house music had me in the flow state and I felt like I was sprinting down the last stretch of trail. I still had an overnight bag and boots while moving past countless switchbacks. Eventually I was slowed by the last mile slog of heinous stream crossings. Each one required some sketchy rock skipping and miraculously I ended up fairly dry. The sight of the trailhead was glorious and the rapid drop in elevation made me feel excellent. I had made it from camp back to the trailhead in just over two hours. I knew Trevor was behind but at least I could rest for a moment while he caught up. Just before midnight he finally arrived and we celebrated in victory. From start to finish was just about 30 hours and we had covered ~31 miles with ~12,000 ft of gain. It was the most either of us had done in two days.

    Sunset on Mt. Williamson

    That night we both slept just outside of Independence. Trevor remarkably would return to work that afternoon while I took the day off to rest. My feet were in pain but I felt ready to tackle the next adventure on the following day. With Trevor gone I would now travel to Tuolumne meadows to meet my SF climbing partner Joe. We both planned on climbing a ton this summer and our next idea was to practice on some of the easiest Yosemite classics. After some debate we landed on an awesome climb: Tenaya Peak’s NW Buttress. This route is a classic 1500 ft 5.5 up a gradually steepening granite slab. We would need to move fast and opted to try and simul climb2 as much terrain as possible. We had never used this technique before but knew that we could always place an anchor to belay traditionally if necessary. Only a few moves along the route would likely feel like real climbing. That night I slept in Lee Vining as usual and felt ready for the next big adventure.

    Tenaya Peak’s NW Buttress

    Unlike Williamson, Joe and I were able to start at a comfortable 8 am. We had a double rack of cams, a 70 meter rope, and two microtraxions3. Joining us at the trailhead were two other groups of climbers who were also about to practice simul climbing. We intentionally left the trailhead just a few minutes before either of them and began the short approach to the buttress. The real start to the route is relatively uncertain. We had a topo4, but mountain project comments claimed it was pretty useless. Instead we solo up some easy class 3 slabs before finding a nice ledge to rope up. In front of us the route was foreshortened. What looked like a couple pitches of climbing was really more than a 1000 ft of granite. Neither of us were too worried about this fact and Joe began to lead the first simul block5. Progress was extremely quick and I felt great romping up the easy terrain. Sadly I forgot my radio, which meant that Joe and I would occasionally have to shout to each other across a full rope length. In contrast, the other two groups provided me some company as they occasionally caught up.

    The approach to Tenaya
    What I believe is the ‘real’ start of the route
    Joe leading up the first pitch

    For the last third of the route I took the lead. After so much chill terrain I figured it would be a quick finish. But almost immediately in front of me was the crux of the route. The buttress gradually steepened towards its peak and I found myself searching for small feet while making an awkward, delicate traverse. Technically I was still on lead belay6 and manage to pull the moves without too much of an issue. After this point I placed a microtraxion and felt much better. There were some occasional moves that I could consider 5th class, but for the most part the entire climb felt pretty easy with climbing shoes on. I still would probably not solo this terrain without practicing more. Shortly after I arrived at a massive ledge and could knew the summit was super close. I belayed Joe up to avoid some rope drag and we did the last 100 ft or so as a mini single pitch to end the day. The two other groups joined us after a few minutes and we chatted a bit more about the descent ahead. Thankfully we got great beta and it would be a fairly easy hike down slabs to the Lake below.

    Looking up at the steeper route headwall
    Incredible Lake views

    Car to car, Joe and I managed to climb the route in just over six hours. For our first time simul climbing I felt like we had a great success. Outside of one or two cruxy moves, the entire route felt well without our comfort zone. As a reward, we spent the rest of the afternoon swimming and sunbathing at the glorious Tenaya Lake beach. Joe was around for one more day and we then chatted for a while at the cars for where to go next. We both felt like we could try some harder routes, but Yosemite is quite intimidating. Even the easiest routes in the valley were quite stout and scary for the grade. We would have to bring our A game to make it out clean. That night we decided to attempt two 5.6 routes in the valley and began our drive to the trailhead.

    Incredible dome views
    NW Buttress above Tenaya Lake’s Beach

    Early the next morning, Joe and I woke up at the Curry Village parking lot. Our first objective for the day was as 3 pitch 5.6 on the Glacier Point Apron called “The Grack”. Despite its low angle, it was considered a classic hand & finger crack7. I had felt pretty good after the previous day and opted to climb the crux pitches up high. We got to the base around 8 am and could already feel the sun pounding on us from above. Joe led the first pitch without too much issue and it was my turn on the sharp end. Some beta from mountain project said we could link rest of the route with a 70 meter rope8. At the time I thought this would be a great idea and could safe some time in the intense heat. This was the case for the first half and I was met with glorious hand cracks for about 100 ft. For 5.6 it still felt pretty intense on my end. Gradually the cracks became smaller and I found myself high above Joe in harder terrain. I knew I could make it up but was starting to feel more nervous. Then all of the sudden I realized the crack I was climbing turned back into smooth granite. I only had a couple of big cams and a rack of nuts left. Joe called out and said I had just about ran out of rope. The last belay ledge in sight was still another 20 ft or so ahead. I thought I heard a rattlesnake. It took me a second to regain composure and not panic.

    Glacier Point Apron
    Joe leading pitch 1 of “The Grack”

    As any good trad leader should, I took a minute and re-evaluated my situation. There were no snakes nearby. I could place a small nut near by awkward stance at the end of the crack. I planned my next few foot placements on the friction slab. I waited for the right moment and committed to the climb. Before I knew it I had finally made it to the ledge. A wave of relief came over me and I immediately took it all in. Making a gear belay was tough but eventually I got Joe back on top rope. I was especially excited to see what he would think of the route from the opposite perspective. Of course he was spooked by the thin cracks and slab towards the end, which validated my nerves on the ascent. Now tired, we began our set of rappels back down the climb and walked back towards the cars. I felt much more exhausted that I was expecting. The combination of the days before and the spooky lead had me feeling wiped. What I really needed was food and before I knew it we were eating pizza back at the village.

    Myself on top of “The Grack” after a few slab moves
    Incredible valley views with Joe following the pitch

    I devoured the pizza in record time and felt massively recharged. It was still pretty early in the afternoon at this point and we were ready for the 2nd objective of the day: “Munginella”. This was another 3 pitch 5.6 in the valley and one that I had been eyeing for multiple years. Its location in the five open books was somewhat shaded and would make for a great outing while crowds were low. This time we would pitch out the entire route. Joe would take 1 & 3 while I took on the easier 2nd pitch. Like most Yosemite terrain, the approach was non-intuitive and took longer than we expected. By the time we reached the base, my stomach was in full panic after the huge pizza. Joe suffered through my constant belches and made it up the first pitch with relative ease. I was next and took one last look at the topo before stepping off the belay. After a couple easy moves I then was out of luck. I must have gone too far to the right and soon enough I was at another blank section of friction slab. I mustered up the same courage from before and stepped off to several steps of steep nothing-ness. Thankfully there was one overhanging crack following a delicate stance and I managed to protect myself with a 0.3 cam. Despite my relief I still felt off route and suffered through awkward ledges with bad rope drag9.

    Views of Half Dome from Five Open Books
    Looking back at Five Open Books from Lower Yosemite Falls, Munginella is furthest left

    Finally I made it to the top of pitch 2, but I felt like I definitely climbed the wrong way. Belaying Joe on top rope was a full body endeavor and I had to heave the rope up on a tiny ledge. Despite the fumble, Joe took the lead once again and made a quick romp up the ‘crux’ third pitch. The route was a blast otherwise and I would love to repeat it one day in better style. For now we descended a beautiful hanging ledge with spectacular views of the whole valley below. I now felt much better than before and we both opted to celebrate the day with a plunge into Lower Yosemite Falls. The cold water after a blisteringly hot day felt incredible. We were feeling on top of the world and it still felt like there was time in the day for something more.

    Descent from Munginella

    We still had our gear with us and decided we had just enough light to make it up the easy 3 pitch 5.5 nearby: “Sunnyside Bench”. Joe lead the first pitch as usual and I opted to take on the rest. The route started right next to the falls and began with a mellow chimney. Pitch two was great fun and I opted for a more secure but slightly harder crack with great exposure. By the time I got to the top I was surprised to see another climber on route. I quickly made an anchor, pulled Joe up, and then realized he had hiked up in search of partners. On one hand it was a blessing because he would descent first (showing us the way). On the other it was getting dark and we knew it we would likely be rappelling after the sun was down. We worked together to make it down the route but it turned out to be pretty messy. Our new friend Mike fumbled a few times and the anchors for each rappel were pretty low quality. For our trouble, Mike gave us some snacks before departing. Next our plan would be to wait for the bus back to Curry Village. Unluckily it was nearly 10 pm and the bus never came. Instead we got a hold of Mike for an emergency rescue back to our cars. What a crazy day.

    Lower Yosemite Falls

    The next morning Joe would depart but I would have one more partner joining me for a third round of climbing. My friend Shyvonne and I had been eyeing Crystal Crag for the longest time. It was a classic 5.6 in mammoth with a relatively short approach, a mini alpine summit, and a mend bending section of building sized quartz crystals to climb. But Shyvonne would not get in until Friday, the following day. So I took the opportunity and hit up Mike for one last classic climb in the valley. We opted for Jam Crack, a 2 pitch 5.9 that he offered to lead. I was particularly excited to follow on harder terrain that normally is out of reach for me. For Mike it turned out to be pretty burly. He took a whip on the crux pitch and opted to aid the rest with his PAS10. To my surprise I followed after and just barely managed to send the pitch clean (which is much easier than leading). Mike then set up some top ropes to climb on his own and I set off again for Tuolumne. Before settling in for the night I had one last thing on my mind. Shyvonne also wanted to see if we could find any snow slopes to ski after our mammoth trip. Of course I had to see if this would be possible while encroaching on July. So I took a nap at the Tuolumne store and then set off for the Saddlebag trailhead near Mt. Conness.

    JamCrack

    Some friends of mine tried climbing this mountain the previous week but claimed there was ‘too much snow’ on the approach. That was enough for me to head out in my trail runners right before the sun went down. It was only a few miles out and I ran through some incredibly beautiful terrain on the way there. Eventually I climbed some 3rd class terrain and found myself in a giant basin in front of Mt. Conness’s Northeast Face. A giant snowfield sat in front of a Lake and I knew it would go. Saddlebag Lake’s trailhead was at 10,000 ft and this snowfield was likely one of the best summer ski zones in the Sierra at the time. Finally after making it back to the trailhead I headed off to Lee Vining for the night. To my surprise, it just happened to be one of the many Thursdays where the local Mobile Mart station was hosting a summer concert. I had already thought that this random gas station at the end of Tioga Pass was a fantastic campground. To see three hundred people gathered for a fun night of live music in the middle of nowhere sealed the deal. The Lee Vining Mobile Mart was know my favorite hidden gem of the Eastern Sierra’s rural neighborhood.

    Scoping out terrain under Mt. Conness
    Beautiful views of Mt. Dana and Saddlebag Lake on the way back
    “The Two Tracks” playing at Lee Vining’s Mobile Mart

    Shyvonne arrived quite late that night and we got up early once more for the day ahead. This time we would be traveling south towards Mammoth Lakes. Crystal Crag was a 1000 ft or so rock pinnacle that towered above beautiful Lakes below. I had always seen it from the resort and I was incredibly excited to finally climb its famous North Arete. Our approach was short compared to any true alpine route in the Sierra but still took two hours or so. By the time we made it to the base the weather was not looking ideal. I had only brought a sun hoodie due to the warm temps in the week prior. Wind was ripping and I was already cold before we even started climbing. I was up first and luckily felt like the route was much easier than the 5.6 I experienced in the valley. After making an anchor I huddled for warmth and set Shyvonne up for pitch 2. She did a great job on lead, but both of us knew the gear was sparse. Shortly after it was my turn again and I knew I could make it up to the ridgeline. This section of rock was one of the coolest I have experienced climbing (sadly I did not get photos). For about 50 ft, the only rock on route were giant, white, and opaque quartz crystals. It wasn’t the best quality ever but the novelty of climbing on these crystals was unlike anything else I’ve seen. This section can’t really be seen from far and it felt like we had come across a truly unique gem that most people cannot experience in their climbing careers.

    Crystal Crag’s North Arete

    After pulling Shyvonne up this section we snapped back into our route ahead. We had made it to the top of the ridge but there was a ton of traversing left on sketchy fourth class terrain. We opted to simul climb this portion but we should have just dropped the rope entirely. For what felt like 500-1000 ft we traversed without placing much gear. We faced a number of towers with short sections of downclimbing. We got blasted with wind the whole time. As we were reaching the true summit I was quickly loosing mental steam. The descent was not straightforward either and I hate the feeling of exposure and uncertainty for this long. Thankfully Shyvonne did a great job with routefinding towards the end. We made it to the summit block and steadily climbed down. Eventually we were back on the trail and I could relax a bit. I was still very cold and just wanted to make it back to the car. Crystal Crag had been quite the incredible experience despite the adventurous exit.

    The long and windy Crystal Crag ridgeline

    That night we discussed our ambitious ski plans on Mt. Conness. We shared dinner at Mammoth Brewing and even drove out to the Hilltop Hot Springs. Drinking an IPA after a hard day in a natural Eastern Sierra spring has got to be one of the best settings for a beer I can imagine. This whole week had been crazy. Capping it off with a backcountry ski day would be the perfect end. And so we started off early for the final time that next morning. Shyvonne had bought us a matching set of jorts and jests11 to match the ridiculousness of the day’s outing. We were greeted with a perfect bluebird day in contrast to Crystal Crag previously. Making our way up with boots and skis made for a much slower approach but at least the scenery was pretty amazing. Eventually we made it to the snowfield I had scoped a few days prior. We ate some snacks and transitioned at the base of a beautiful alpine lake. Above us was a large bowl filled with massive suncups12. It gradually steepened and had some options for steep chutes up high. Shyvonne was only here for the mellow apron but I was excited to ski as much as possible.

    North Peak seen from the approach to Mt. Conness
    The best end of July snowfield in the Sierra
    Jorts and Jest equipped
    Shyvonne’s matching fit
    View from the top of the lap 1 bowl

    Our first lap was a bit rocky. Shyvonne had some experience as a ski instructor back at a small resort in Virginia. It also happened to be her first time in the backcountry and with giant suncups. Despite this she made it down slowly and managed to link some great turns. While she took a break I sped up the slope in search of the random steep chutes up high. To my surprise the chute cruxes were very thin and steep. Suncups went away at this slope angle and I at least knew I could make it down with quality corn. In classic backcountry fashion, putting on my skis may all my nerves disappear. I took a few turns down and eyed the crux. I wanted to ski it in good style. After a moment I took off and pointed my skis to the fall line. I passed the crux and started screaming in glory. The apron was all icing and I made some big arching turns back to the lake. As much as I love climbing, this moment made me remember that skiing is so much more fun. I just had to make one more lap up the chute.

    Lap 2 chute crux
    From below
    2nd ridgeline bowl up high
    Both sets of turns coming down the crux

    I took everything unnecessary out of my pack and sprinted up the chute once more. After the first col there was a second headwall looming behind. I felt like I was trail running at this point and raced up to the next ridgeline. I didn’t want to make Shyvonne wait any longer than necessary. Once I reached the top I blasted some music for what would be my last turns of the year. Both ridgelines made for great skiing despite the summer snow. I screamed past the chute crux once more and made it down to the Lake. Shyvonne was now ready for one last party lap and I obliged. This time around she felt a little more comfortable and it was a great end to the session. I felt incredibly content with the week during out hike out. It had been day after day of pushing my limits as a climber, an endurance athlete, and a friend. I faced many tests of adversity and came out a better person for it. My hope moving forward is that I can continue to grow and experience a few more weeks like this in my lifetime.

    1. Triple 14er Article ↩︎
    2. “Simultaneous Climbing” – A climbing technique to move fast on easy terrain ↩︎
    3. “Microtraxion” – A one way device that helps to catch a fall when simul climbing. ↩︎
    4. “Topo” – Climbing map ↩︎
    5. “Simul Block” – Equivalent to a very long pitch, between 300-500 ft ↩︎
    6. “Lead Belay” – Not simul climbing yet, still a traditional climbing technique ↩︎
    7. Hand and finger cracks refer to different sizes of cracks within granite climbing routes ↩︎
    8. Linking the rest of the route would mean combining pitches 2 & 3 of “The Grack” ↩︎
    9. “Rope Drag” – Lots of friction in the rope is generated when taking a non-straight path up a route ↩︎
    10. Aiding with a PAS is a way of climbing a short section of rock by pulling on gear with one’s “personal anchor system” attached directly to their harness ↩︎
    11. “Jest” – Jean vest ↩︎
    12. “Suncups” – large indentations in summer snowpacks due to rapid melting ↩︎
  • Volcano Season ’26

    Volcano Season ’26

    There is something quite awesome about the end to each ski season on the West coast. Despite the bittersweet feeling of loosing the snowpack and feeling the incoming heat of summer, late spring has one last outpost of great skiing. Of course this is the great stretch of Cascade volcanos that stand incredibly prominent from Washington to Northern California. Once the roads open to each respective trailhead, access is granted to giant snowfields that remain somewhat skiable through mid summer each year. Days are incredibly long and the snowpack is generally very stable, making for excellent conditions to make big climbs and big ski descents. This year was no exception and I had my heart set on finally skiing one of the classics of California skiing as a whole: Mt. Shasta. This is the second largest volcano in the continuous United States and stands nearly 10,000 ft above the valley floor below. Its an incredible landmark and one of the most breathtaking views along highway 5 when driving north in the state. My old coworker Kyle and I had been meaning to ski together for a while and I immediately accepted when he asked if I was free to join his trip to Shasta in the Spring of 2026.

    Avalanche Gulch, Mt. Shasta

    Earlier in the year, a good friend of mine attempted Shasta on a weekend with a moderate wind storm. Given the mountain has such great prominence and is so close to the coast, it is known for some crazy strong wind and independent weather systems from the surrounding area. I backed away that weekend due to the weather and later heard he was struck by rockfall. Luckily he was wearing a helmet and had a great partner who successfully contacted a rescue team for a relatively quick exit. Regardless I was feeling incredibly cautious about our subsequent attempt and biased a conservative approach to conditions. Kyle and I agreed to attempt our summit on a Tuesday morning. There was a storm hitting the mountain over the weekend and ending Monday morning, so it was likely that the incoming high pressure would serve us well. Even then we also decided to get an incredibly early start to lower the likelihood of rockfall induced by the warming sunrise. So soon enough I found myself driving to Shasta with my new truck with an expected rise of 1 am the next morning.

    View of Black Butte on the way to Shasta

    Waking up is always painful for days like this. I had some breakfast and caffeine prepared but this did not mask the feeling of grogginess and pain that alpine starts bring. Still I felt incredibly excited for the day and it wasn’t long until I started the watch and began and hike up on foot. Our plan was to ascend the avalanche gulch up the south side of the mountain starting from Bunny Flats trailhead. Normally in May the snow line would start almost directly from the parking lot, but this time we had to hike in about a mile and a half to horse camp before reaching continuous snow. In the dark it felt pretty quick and I was putting on my skins less than an hour into our journey. Once we began our ascent above the treeline I began to see the sky in its full glory. There was no visible pre-dawn light, but the mountain was still lit from the stars above. We were blessed with a crystal clear sky and the milky way presented itself directly above the peak in the distance. Skinning up the mountain felt like I was standing in a giant planetarium with panoramic views of the night sky. Capturing this with a phone camera is futile and I knew I just needed to appreciate the moment.

    Kyle making his way up at first light
    A large triangle shadow piercing the sunrise

    While Kyle and I basked in the stars, we were also making incredibly quick progress. Before I knew it the sun began to rise and lite up the valley below us. We were about 3 hours into the climb and nearing Helen Lake, the approximate halfway point in terms of vertical feet. The mountain created a crazy triangle shadow that seemed to tower and stretch far into the surrounding area. The light allowed us to really appreciate how far we were into the huge mountain bowl and we saw huge ridges on either flank shoot dramatically into the distance. Avalanche Gulch could be a ski resort of its own and I was feeling stoked to descend later in the day. Ahead of us was the real climb of the day. It wasn’t very technical, but would still be the crux in terms of sustained steep climbing and objective hazard. We were well prepared for this and quickly transitioned to our boot packing setup with crampons and ice axes. Our pace barely faltered and it wasn’t long until we approached the red banks rock band near the crest of the large south facing bowl. At this point I was starting to feel the altitude. We were at about 12,500 ft and we were both effectively coming from sea level the day before. I was in great shape, but my footsteps felt harder and my spirits faded just a little bit.

    Boot packing towards Red Banks

    There were only about 1,500 ft to go, but it wouldn’t be as easy as before. First we ascended heartbreak hill, a ~1000 ft subpeak that would bring us to the summit plateau of Shasta. It was only partially filled in with snow, so we trudged up it awkwardly with crampons still attached to my boots. By the time I made it up, I reluctantly agreed with the hill’s name and took a short break before the last summit push. Kyle and I agreed to ditch the skis right before the last little summit climb as the skiing looked obviously futile up top. We took a somewhat direct line up a chossy third class gully and then stood upon the summit boulder patch about seven hours after our early start. The views were incredible and made up for my altitude induced bad spirits. Kyle brought a nice photo of his late friends who had passed skiing another peak in the cascades. It reminded me of my friend who had also faced a tragic accident on the mountain. Its hard not to accept Shasta’s great spiritual influence on the surrounding people and land. I had a moment of reflection and was grateful that our experience so far that day had gone exceptionally well.

    View of the summit plateau from the top of Heartbreak Hill
    Scramble below the summit
    Summit Selfie

    After some mandatory summit photos and a brief snack break, we started making our way back down the mountain. We had summited quite a bit earlier than expected so we discussed waiting for a bit above the gulch to see if the snow would warm up at all before skiing down. Descending heartbreak hill still seemed like a slog and I was happy to sit down for a bit while we accessed conditions. I layed down in what I hoped would be a protected pocket of rocks above the gulch headwall but the wind didn’t really allow me to stay comfortable. Kyle took a little walk to see if there were any better spots and didn’t have much luck. After a measly 30 minutes or so we decided it would be best if we just started our way down and avoided any risk of clouds coming in to obstruct our view. Sadly this meant the headwall conditions were pretty horrendous. The slope was probably no more than 35 degrees, but a fall might be unarrestable in these conditions and would result in a very long slide down the mountain. This meant I was pretty puckered and made my first few turns very cautiously. Soon after we began we were also joined by a single skier who seemed to be more confident in his turns. Unsurprisingly this was not the right idea and one of his skis ejected after a bad turn. It just barely arrested itself as I caught up to it and he manage to get his skis on okay for the rest of the descent. As we continued down with him he explained that he was carrying a second set of skis on his back. Apparently these were left on the mountain from the storm over the weekend where another lone skier had left them in fear of being blow away from the high winds. I was lucky I was skiing with Kyle that weekend because of the countless reminders that many others on the mountain were not nearly as prepared.

    Starting down the headwall
    Kyle back at Helen Lake

    Despite this rough start to the descent, the snow slowly started to soften up as we made our way down the headwall. After about halfway down I could finally gain some better confidence in my edges and began to open up my turns. Then I returned to that oh so familiar feeling of confident skiing. We still had about 4 or 5 thousand feet of descent and at the same time the altitude sickness began to fade. Soon I was hooting and hollering while making the big arching turns that I was hoping for upon our descent. Quickly we made it back to Helen Lake and took a quick pause to eat and chat about what was next. It was still pretty early in the day and the sudden access to oxygen made me feel awesome again. I was pretty stoked to continue skiing but Kyle and our new friend were less enthusiastic. Ultimately we agreed to ski down a little further and then consider making a second lap. The way down was fantastic and we were greeted with more soft corn snow for a couple thousand feet. We stopped just below 9,000 ft and then Kyle was convinced to join me on the climb back to Helen Lake. I had my heart set on making it to 10,000 ft of climbing for the day. This meant about another 2500 ft of skiing and I was feeling great in the beginning. My biggest hurdle at this point was fuel. Even though I stole a few snacks from Kyle and the solo skier, I was completely out of my own food. So for the first 1,500 ft or so I blazed up the mountain before slowly loosing some speed for the final push. Kyle slowed down and planned to stop at Helen Lake. I didn’t want to keep him waiting so I kept pace as much as possible and finally hit 10,000 ft at the start of the bootpack up the headwall.

    Kyle making turns on lap 1
    Lap 2 turns

    I was now pretty tired and ready for the real descent back to the trailhead. While we made more fun and big arching turns down we passed countless hikers making their way up on foot. For all those moments I was increasingly glad that we were capable of making the journey on skis were the descent was vastly faster and easier. In fact we found ourselves back to Horse camp were we stashed our trail shoes within 10 mins or so of our Helen Lake departure. The day was absolutely fantastic and all we had left was a mile or two on foot with skis on our backs. One day I would have to come back to really ski the full 7,000 ft of descent from car to car. For now we trudged back to our cars still feeling incredibly stoked from the day’s success. From our cars we’d make it into town for some burgers and beers as expected. Kyle would have to continue his journey north towards Seattle. He would be meeting more friends to complete their annual ‘sea-to-summit’ adventures near Mt. Baker. For myself, I had debated making one last stop on the way back for the following day. The year before I had skied Lassen with another friend of mine and knew it would be in prime condition to ski.

    Lassen’s North face from just outside the trailhead
    Tacoma camper and the pack

    That night I decided I just had to make the side quest out to Lassen and found myself at the trailhead just before sunset. I was alone and knew I didn’t want to make a huge day out of it given the Shasta mission the day prior. Still I had a great night of rest and woke up around sunrise the next morning. Thankfully I saw another group of skiers arrive, which made me feel better about my trek deep into the area. I would be leaving from the Devastated Area trailhead on the North side of the mountain. It was a significantly better ski than the south side (which was also not open for cars yet) but required a longer approach and vertical. Sadly the snowpack was also horrible for the season and the trail in was incredibly dry. The year prior I had gone in the first week of June and only had about a half mile of dirt before putting on skins. This time around it was mid May and the hike in on dirt was about three times as long.

    Beautiful views of Lassen from the approach stream
    Catching up to the other group at the base of the mountain

    I took my time getting ready and let the other group of three skiers get a 30 min or so headstart. I was in the mood to make this a quick mission and once I started off the trailhead I made quick pace. Unlike the year prior I almost immediately had to navigate a stream uncovered by the low snowpack. I was in trail runners and constantly had to cross either side of the water as I made my straight line towards the volcano’s north face. After about a mile and a half I stashed my shoes and skinned up the awkwardly off camber slope adjacent to the stream. Once I made it up to the end of the steam I saw the other group at about the same distance in as myself. I couldn’t help but feel a little competitive and motored up the skin track and towards the headwall. As I reached the start of the bootpack, the others joined and seemed to be having a great time. I took a bit longer than them as I strapped on a pair of crampons. Really this just made me faster and I sprinted up the slope to catch them. I had more than enough fuel in the form of nerd gummy clusters and didn’t let off the gas as I stamped my way up the headwall. Within an hour I had made it to the summit and widened the gap to my new friends. I don’t mean to be overly competitive normally but for being alone it made my ascent way more fun. After a few moments enjoying the summit I quickly skied down and said my goodbyes to the other group. I made it down to the transition spot within two pitches and no more than 5 mins.

    Boot packing up the headwall

    On the way out I was feeling stoked and was almost running with my skis and pack bouncing aggressively on my shoulders. My goal was to make it back in three and a half hours total. I had some idea of distances to the trailhead from my watch but nothing exact. So instead I just went as quickly as I could, hoping over the stream many many times. By the time I finally saw the road I was in full jog mode and just barely made my time with a couple minutes to spare. The whole trip was probably equivalent to Mt. Tallac and I was super stoked with the pace and the great descent. There is something awesome about being able to move around the mountains incredibly quickly that makes the experience feel particularly rewarding. I’d have to come back in the future to repeat this effort and either loose some time or make more laps. For now I headed back to the bay feeling proud of the effort in the last couple days.

    Mandatory tip shot from the headwall
    Lassen remains one of the best spring skiing destinations

    Fast forward to nearly two months later and I found myself ready for one last hurrah of the volcano season. I was a little sad that I was not able to join another group of friends on their trip to Mt. Baker and Shuksan in June, so I did not hesitate at the opportunity for another cascade trip in July. My frequent climbing partner Joe organized a trip to Washington for several weeks and we put a group together to test our skills on Mt. Baker. Ultimately the group was thinking about a Rainier attempt and we all agreed that Baker was a great warmup. Unfortunately this group was not really experienced on skis, which meant I would find myself walking back down the long slope like the hikers I saw on Shasta. It would still be an epic adventure in the mountains, but even now I know I will need to go back to ski this volcano in the future. The season prior I also tried to summit and ski Mt. Baker from the Coleman glacier. I organized a group of friends to take a glaciated ski mountaineering course and we got some great skiing in despite the lack of a summit. This go around the road into the Heliotrope trailhead was washed out (seems like this will almost always be the case nowadays), which meant we’d have a better time ascending a different glacier and aspect.

    The incredible Easton Glacier

    I met my friends this time around at the base of the Easton Glacier. The trail was well established and we were one of many groups that day ascending the mountain. We all had different experience levels and mainly wanted to test our glacier travel and rope skills. Two members of the group, Pranad and Kalari, both came in by plane and were newer to the sport. We had climbed the crystal range traverse as a group a few weeks prior so we all knew the dynamic before getting started. Baker from this aspect would be a really big day, slightly larger than Shasta. This meant that our wakeup time was a horrifying 11:45 pm. I got there early and managed to get nearly a full night of sleep. The others did not really sleep at all. Remarkably we all were awake at the right mark and the stoke of the group made up for the brutal alarm. The first stretch of the trail was relatively quick and uneventful. Usually its always pretty easy to strike off the first few hours of an adventure like this as fatigue doesn’t set in and excitement is high. Unfortunately Kalari was not feeling as good by the time we made it to the start of the snowfields. This was the last established camp and marked approximately a third of the way to the summit. We were making great time but there really was a ton of terrain left to go.

    Easton Glacier icefall with exposed bedrock

    Soon we were back on the ascent and began up the snowfield. There was about a thousand feet or so of some mixed snow and ridgeline before we met the glacier proper. By this time the light began to shine and we found a good spot to transition to our roped travel. In front of us was a massive icefall marking the toe of the Easton glacier. From the Instagram page of the Mt. Baker rangers I learned that the icefall had recently exposed bedrock. It was likely this bedrock had not seen the light of day for many thousands of years prior and it was quite sad to the the drainage below devoid of any ice. Seeing the massive cleaver of ice also reminded me of the severity of glacier travel. Once we stepped onto this ice there was real potential of us falling into a crevasse and needed to quickly jump into rescue mode. I had brought up route finding as one of my biggest worries for the trip and initially was nervous for our ascent past this point. However, as we started up it was pretty clear that this trail was well established. What I thought would be a field of cracks and snow bridges was more like any other trail we had seen that day. The majority of hikers attempting to summit this day were camping from the night before and were ahead of us on the trail. We simply needed to follow their old footprints and occasionally cross some well supported ice bridges over the glacier’s crevasses. While it was not necessarily the route finding crux I was expecting, I was somewhat relieved we would not have to face any real danger that day.

    Incredible sunrise views
    About halfway up the glacier
    Some of the larger crevasses on the ascent

    As the sun rose that day, we fell into quite a good rhythm. The weather was great, the route was easy walking, and we did not have much issue dealing with the ropes between us. Soon enough we made it to the base of the headwall and took a break to look into the massive caldera on the south side of the summit. Sometimes its easy to forget we are really on a volcano and times like this feel quite awesome. Clouds of sulfery gas bellow out of large fumaroles and jagged rock outcroppings line the rim of the volcanos crater. Pranad brought a film camera and captured some incredible shots of us while we caught our breathes for the last summit push. At this point there was only one or two groups ahead of us. The path was incredibly mellow and I definitely could picture myself skiing down the headwall in the future. Not long after we crossed the long summit plateau and basked in the glory of the true summit. The views were incredible as always and we all felt pretty good for the amount of terrain that we just crossed. To humble us for the day we also saw a trail runner casually tagging the summit in what he described as a routine 3-4 hour push. Then it was time for the slog of a descent back to the trailhead.

    More great views near the summit
    Roped up for the descent with patented carboard glacier goggles

    Our way down was relatively straightforward and we made quick progress of the snowfields. Passing other groups on the headwall was probably the most annoying part but we were not really in a rush. Eventually we were able to take off the crampons and half glissade half jog down the slope. We were still roped up but probably could have been fine without it. When we finally made it back to our camp I was feeling the fatigue start to set in. I was uncomfortable but at least could take in the spectacular views of the surrounding valley that eluded us in the dark on the way in. I knew that the trail ended on a prominent ridgeline but didn’t really understand how exposed it was until our descent. Green grass, wildflowers, and steep rocky walls lined the ridge on both flanks. A huge rounded valley stood as a monument to the glaciers former glory. Now there was a relatively small but rapidly flowing river sitting at the center of the cavernous and rocky drainage. As we descended we took in the views and trudged back down the trail. I felt pretty fatigued and knew that Joe & Pranad were feeling the same. It was just over thirteen hours by the time we finally arrived back at the trailhead. We covered many miles and nearly 8,000 ft of elevation gain for the day. I felt bittersweet on the summit knowing that I would like to come back and ski the mountain in better style for the future. Either way it was an epic day and a great end to the volcano season this year. I’ll be ready to come back year after year to continue skiing these mountains. Baker especially has much more to offer and I feel incredibly grateful to be able to share these experiences in the Cascades with a great group of friends.

    Kalari reaching the bottom of the glacier
    More amazing descent views

  • Starting from Scratch – ’26 Spring Climbing

    Starting from Scratch – ’26 Spring Climbing

    I’ve always had the perspective that climbing is not a sport you can casually get into. Similar to skateboarding or surfing, its progression is brutally difficult and takes a ton of time. Some say these are all lifestyles. Climbing brings one more aspect to the game that’s hard to match: from day one the risk and consequence feel quite morbid. This is especially true in California where the most interesting climbing (to me) lies in the endless granite playground of the Sierra. Here the vast majority of climbing is traditional mutipitch or alpine terrain. In laymen terms this means that there is almost no infrastructure for protection1. Most of the crags and alpine zones of the Sierra were pioneered decades ago when gear and ethics encourage bold and challenging route development. Generally this requires climbers to use gear like cams & nuts to build protection of their own. I knew that if I ever wanted to really experience climbing as intended for the area I would need to spend a whole lot of time building up skills slowly and steadily. Luckily for me this year, I was still unemployed and on the hunt for adventure in the mountains. As Spring began I was finally able to spend weeks at a time honing in my skills and seeking bigger terrain. It was time to challenge myself just like every other climber in the area has done for generations past.

    The promised land

    My first trip of the season was right to Yosemite Valley. I was traveling with my friend Shyvonne and our original plan was to warm up on a Thursday afternoon before attempting Snake Dike the following day. It was mid May, so the days were long and the temperature was still fairly cool for the valley. For my first roped climb in Yosemite we opted for one of the most forgiving and easy routes we could find. Swan slab is a three pitch 5.6 that is a 5 min walk from the Yosemite Lodge parking lot. It’s walk off descent is surprisingly chill and I opted for flip flops on the harness. As I started up on lead there was maybe 10 ft of 5.6 moves before backing off to a relatively chill gully. Each pitch afterwards had a great belay and it felt like a rare treat to have such a good introduction to the area. After a second pitch through a 4th class gully I arrived at a comfortable belay ledge. Behind me was the striking Sentinel Rock Headwall and Half Dome in the distance. Next up was a hand crack on low angle terrain that traversed slightly across a large granite face. The pitch was relatively short and I felt super comfortable the whole time. Afterwards I belayed up my partner and scrambled down the sandy descent in my flops. As an introduction to Yosemite I felt like Swan Slab was surprisingly chill and easy to navigate. Little did I know nearly every other route I’d climb this summer would be difficult to find, sketchy on route, and treacherous to descend in comparison.

    Leading the first pitch of Swan Slab
    Pretty sweet views of Sentinel Rock from above

    After swan slab and a relaxing evening in the valley, we prepared to depart for the mist trail early the next morning. Our plan was a single day ascent of snake dike, which would involve nearly 8 miles and 4000 ft of approaching before even putting on our climbing shoes. The route itself was a test piece for beginner climbers. It’s a popular classic2 that ascends a steep slab before ascending a prominent dike3 that ‘snakes’ up the opposite side of half dome as it’s regular cable route for tourists. Although it only goes at 5.7, its a test piece due to its extreme runouts and sparse gear placements. It’s recommended to bring only 2-3 cams & a handful of slings for nearly 2000 ft of slab. It’s lower pitches are steep and take some cams while the higher pitches on the easier dike itself have maybe a single bolt between anchors. All in all this makes for an extremely committing climb where headspace can make or break the ascent. My partner Shyvonne was psyched to lead these pitches, but it would still be a challenging and scary endeavor.

    Views of Liberty Cap on the ascent up the Mist Trail

    It was my first time on the mist trail and I was lucky to experience it for the first time in spring conditions. We got up just before sunrise and by the time we got to Vernal Falls it was flowing in full glory. We ascended the stairs with a ton of mist and took a nice water break at the river flats above. Shortly after came the 1000 ft of stairs leading up to Nevada Falls, which was just as spectacular. After another quick pause, there was only about a mile left of flat trail before we branched off towards the backside of half dome. This flat valley was a treat in itself. We were alone in a forest with views of Lost Lake and the southeast face of Half Dome rising thousands of feet above us. Then we were greeted by the start of the bushwhack. It began with weakness in the ridgeline leading up to Half Dome. Some cairns loosely guided the way but we still got off course a handful of times. The path steeped and zig zagged up the ridge until we met a broader view of Half Dome’s south aspect. Guarding our exit was a gradually sloping hillside with tons and tons of manzanitas. We completely lost the path at this point and slowly trudged up the terrain.

    Lost Lake and the backside of Half Dome
    The last stretch of Manzanita ‘shwacking before Snake Dike

    Despite our relatively quick pace I gradually began to notice Shyvonne was struggling through the bushes. Due to some stomach pain she was unable to eat many calories during the approach. She was a strong hiker but there was no making up for empty fuel. By the time we made it up to the beginning of the route we were both pretty worked. Ahead of us there were two parties and we had time to rest up at the base. I had a bad feeling about starting up the route with my partner teetering on an empty stomach. Knowing that I would also want a clear headspace if I were to lead the route I only gave words of encouragement. Bailing would not be an option after pitch one. Regardless Shyvonne racked up and started up the slabs. Twenty feet in there was a long diagonal traverse through featureless terrain. She took one or two steps into the void before stopping. I could tell it wasn’t the day. The retreat was easy enough from there but I knew the feeling. Committing would come another day. For now she joined me back at the belay and we took a break to wind down from the experience.

    Two groups ahead on Snake Dike prior to the bail

    After some reassurance we decided to make the best out of the day following the difficult bail. Nearby was a perch over Half Dome’s iconic Northwest face called the diving board. The snake dike approach was 500 ft short of this cliff face and it was a quick scramble before we found the zone. Coming to terms with the bail was difficult, but the view into the valley did make up for the feeling just a little bit. Glancing over the huge ‘diving board’ granite block was an insane 2000 ft or so drop to the valley floor. The face itself looked spectacular and couldn’t help but inspire a big wall future effort if I managed to level up enough. For now we took it all in before accepting the long retreat back to Happy Isles. Bushwacking aside the descent was not too bad. The trail was now filled with a million tourists but I still had gas left in the tank. It would be a different story if we had committed to the climb and suffered through the bonk on the way out. After about 13 hours we finally made it to the trailhead and got an early night’s sleep. I would want to make it up snake dike one day but can never be upset with a good bail.

    The spectacular NW Face of Half Dome
    Views of the valley from high above

    The next few days were pretty hectic. We took an easy morning in the valley before getting back on the road to the city. Early the next morning I would join my friends for SF’s iconic ‘Bay to Breakers’ race. We cruised the course in a matching set of Power Rangers costumes before a fantastic picnic celebration at the Golden Gate Park’s Panhandle. It was a perfect Sunday with friends before I’d embark again up North towards Shasta and Lassen volcanos4. I’d get back that next Wednesday night and reset with a full day of rest back home. Come Thursday night Shyvonne and I were back at it. We planned on a day out in Tahoe this time and slept at the trailhead of Lover’s Leap. This huge cliff band on highway 50 is an iconic climbing destination and one of the closest to the bay area. It’s smaller Hogsback slab has a ton of moderate climbing options and we planned to get in as many pitches as possible. Starting it off was ‘Prosciutto’, a 5.10c slab that Shyvonne put up with a stick clip. I really wanted to get better at slab without taking egregious leader falls5, so any top rope seemed like a huge win for me. The climb was super challenging for me and felt like I had to trust nothing footholds at my limit a couple of times. Despite a few falls on top rope I managed to get to the chains feeling slightly more confident at slabs than when I started.

    Ready to crush Bay to Breakers
    Lover’s Leap in golden hour

    It was a great intro to the area and plopped us right at the start of ‘Ham & Cheese’ for round 2. This would be a three pitch 5.6 and a good way to test our practice from earlier on top rope. In classic Sierra fashion it was still a pretty bold route for the grade and Shyvonne had to pull through a spooky roof on pitch one. Afterwards it was my turn on lead for the 5.5 second pitch. Luckily it felt pretty secure and we blitzed up the rest of the route without any snags. The view of Lover’s Leap cliff band at the top of the route was pretty inspiring. We even saw a film crew doing some promotional work on Bear’s Reach6 and I felt compelled to come back when I felt ready for 5.7. For that day we still had some gas in the tank and made our way back down for one last route. Ever since I had seen Hogsback from ski trips through highway 50 I wanted to lead the classic beginners route called ‘Knapsack Crack’. As a beginner leader this felt like it would be a cruise on cool terrain. Luckily for me this turned out to be true and we thoroughly enjoyed the romp up easy terrain for our last lap. I made it up in two pitches and really felt confident on lead for the day.

    Knapsack Crack, a classic beginners route

    That night we took a short drive to the excellent Echo Lake trailhead for a night in the van. We had one more day of recreation in store and decided to explore the area outside of Lover’s Leap. First up was a quick hike around the lake towards the desolation wilderness boundary. I had always wanted to ski in this area and it was cool to see the distance peaks in their summer coat. This time around we turned back after a few miles and got back in the car for a second afternoon outing. Following a quick lunch at Mountain Slice in Tahoe City we made it up the road to Donner Pass. The views from the crag were epic and we towered over Donner Lake below. It was a Saturday and the pullout was packed with climbers from the area in contrast to the weekdays at the Leap. Feeling less inspired we made the call to romp up ‘Kindergarten Crack’. Similar to Knapsnack it felt cruiser and easy for the grade. Regardless it was great fun and rewarded us with even more spectacular views of the area from the small rocky summit. I was surprised to see three small ski resorts all from this perch and knew I’d need to explore the area more in the winter once again. Shortly after we got back on the road for SF. The past week had been such a crazy series of trips out into the mountains of California. Instead of feeling overwhelmed I returned home refreshed. My heart was set on harder challenges ahead. Little did I know this would just be the start of an epic summer full of weeklong trips to the Sierra and beyond.

    Echo Lake
    Donner Pass Summit
    1. Climbing protection refers to bolts or other fixed gear that would catch a fall ↩︎
    2. “Classic” – In climbing context; timeless, a must do ↩︎
    3. “Dike” – Geologic Formation; in context of Snake Dike its a namesake, vertical, and narrow band of hard rock with more texture ↩︎
    4. ’26 Volcano Season ↩︎
    5. Lead climber falling on slab = cheese grader experience ↩︎
    6. Famous three pitch 5.7 ↩︎
  • Training and Volume – Winter 2026

    Training and Volume – Winter 2026

    I started my backcountry skiing and climbing journey nearly two and a half years ago now with effectively no training or experience. I was definitely a good skier, but was coming off a very demanding job and was completely out of shape. My first real tour was barely 2000 feet in very mellow Utah terrain and it still kicked my ass. I got slightly better as the season progressed into the spring, but I still didn’t really ‘train’ to get better. Later that year I moved to San Fransisco for a new job and had it in my mind to really step up my game when it came to fitness. My philosophy was to start very casually and just figure out what worked for me to stay committed & excited to the journey. Luckily for me, I had much more time on my hand at this point and was ready to lay a great foundation for bigger goals ahead. The next year I slowly improved month over month, progressing steadily in milage and speed over a diverse set of cardio focused activities. SF lended itself mainly to biking, cycling, swimming, climbing, and ski touring, all of which I loved to trade off between the weeks and seasons. By the time fall of 2025 came along, I was ready to step it into high gear in preparation for the ski season ahead.

    A particularly cool sunrise prior to biking up Hawk Hill

    This fall I started off some more dedicated training by reading through Steve Johnson’s guide to mountain endurance sports titled the “Uphill Athlete”. This book was intended for trail runners, backcountry skiers, and generally all sports that traveled on foot through mountains. It began from a foundation of describing metabolic processes utilized while running over a long period of time. This science guided the rest of the book which explained what sort of training is most effective to improve one’s aerobic capacity and why. My takeaway is that endurance sports are almost always a function of an athlete’s aerobic threshold. This threshold is the limit of metabolism that fuels on oxygen and stored body fat (which is aerobic due to the use of oxygen). Improving this threshold allows a higher power output for a given duration and requires intentional training described in the book for improvement. I distilled this down to that fact that running at a lower heart rate for longer periods of time was the most efficient training I could pursue. Instead of running for 3-5 miles at 80% or so effort, I really needed to be running double the distance at half the effort.

    Foggy morning on San Bruno

    My first attempt at this was to start running up San Bruno’s ridge line after work. This was a ~8.5 mile route with about 1500 ft of gain and I could start and finish at my office right around sunset. I used to run a lot of hills when I was on my high school’s cross country team, but I’ve never really ‘trail run’ in this capacity. The route started with 2 miles of relatively flat road that served as a good warmup. Then at the first trailhead I would start up ‘sign hill’, a mini foothill of San Bruno that had the words “South San Francisco” in Hollywood style lettering. It was steep but quick, probably 400 feet or so of climbing before I was back on the road for a quick descent towards San Bruno proper. The 2nd trailhead started at a large buttress that was approximately in the center of the large ridge making up San Bruno. From this trailhead to the ridge line was approximately 800 more feet of vertical over 1 mile of terrain. It was steep, rocky, and somewhat loose in sections. Later I would learn that the top times of this trail segment at 10:30 min/mile pace, which for me was absolutely ludicrous. For my first attempt, I probably was close to 18-20 min/mile pace and felt pretty smoked at the top of the ridge.

    Halfway up to the San Bruno Ridge during golden hour

    Once I got to the top, I would typically run East towards the lower half of the ridge line. The summit was in the opposite direction, but would extend my run by more than 2 miles and didn’t make for a great loop. The other half was still an awesome run along the ridge. For about a mile and a half I was running about a thousand feet above the peninsula and could see a panoramic view of San Francisco, the Pacific Ocean, the East Bay, and Santa Cruz mountains all at once. For most of my runs in the evenings this view would be enhanced by the sunset and make for a pretty special ambiance. At the end of the ridge was a steep downhill that made it’s way into a small suburb near the city. I’d then take this back another 2 miles to work to end the loop. What I liked the most about this trail was the diversity of flat running, steep uphills & descents, and crazy ridge line views. Quickly this became my weekly or biweekly workout routine and before I knew it my times dropped quickly. From October in 2025 to March of 2026, I ran this route and a few variations maybe a dozen or so times. My first attempt finished the loop in 93 minutes (11:09 min/mile) while my most recent finish was 76 minutes (9:17 min/mile). Really I owe the huge drop in time to staying consistent and pursing workouts that I genuinely find fun week to week.

    View of San Bruno’s ridge looking east
    San Bruno topside

    Although San Bruno was probably my favorite workout week to week, I also began finding others that were similarly inspiring. In particular, I turned to one of SF’s most popular endurance sports: cycling. From my apartment near the golden gate park, the opportunity for fun cycling loops in and outside of the city were endless. Within about an hour I could ride my bike through the 3 parks in the city’s NW corner or visit ocean beach and then climb up to twin peaks. I could also go north and cross the golden gate bridge to access some of the most scenic rides in the area. Most popular was Hawk Hill, which provided an efficient climb up the closest coastal hill with a great view of the city. I could extend or linkup anyone of these loops for more vert or more mileage depending on how much time and energy I had at that moment. Best of all was the community surrounding these loops. Given the easy access and local popularity, I frequently found people willing to ride before or after work. To me any workout with friends was effectively free in terms of mental effort and activation energy. I had no excuse not to join in on a group ride if I had the time available. So before I knew it I was consistently riding between 20-40 miles a week and boosting my volume of cardio workouts.

    The quintessential SF cycling destination

    By the start of the ski season I began to really feel the cumulative effects of consistent endurance training. Easy tours around the West side of Lake Tahoe like Jake’s or Tallac turned from challenging and half day efforts into quick and efficient outings. With a fast partner I could make it up two thousand vertical feet in just over an hour or so depending on how good the skin track was. One weekend in January was a great example of this payoff. I joined with a friend Ray, who I had met earlier in the fall from a mutual friend. We both wanted to get out to Tahoe for a weekend of fast paced touring to explore more of the West Lake area. On Saturday we drove out early in the morning and made it to Jake’s by about 10:30 am. The snowpack was pretty brutal at this point, so the skin track was pretty much just bulletproof the whole way up. Despite this we quickly ascended and descended the mountain in about 2.5 hours, stopping only to take in the views periodically. We weren’t racing up in any capacity, just looking to get up and down quickly so we could make it back to the resort with our friends.

    Early season tour on Jake’s at Sunset, had to move quick to stay in the light

    By pure coincidence, we made it to the resort by about 2:30 and ran into a mutual friend who was an olympian freestyle mogul skier. After a fast tour up Jakes, we immediately joined her group’s ‘power hour’ down Chute 75. In true olympian fashion, this entailed lapping Chute 75 (a steep mogul run down KT-22) as fast as possible until the mountain closed. They were already on lap 3 at the time and we joined in for bonus laps of fun. Turns out my legs quickly turned to mush as we blitzed down the moguls in about 5 mins each time. By 4:00 Ray and I had put down 8 laps and I was desperate for a beer and slice of pizza at Chamois. Later we finished the night at a friend’s airbnb hot tub and immediately began scheming what was next for Sunday. So then we woke up early, rushed to the Tallac trailhead, and blitzed up the mountain in what would be record time for me by far. The skin track was pretty straightforward and there even was a bit of soft snow waiting for us at the top of the NE bowl. This made for a surprisingly great descent and we both got some soft turns in down the big gully we came up. Luckily there was snow all the way to the car and we managed to finish the nearly 4000 ft round trip in under 4 hours. We weren’t really going for time, but just had the stamina for a fast round trip and it felt great. Wrapping up early even allowed for a visit to my favorite pizza joint (Mountain Slice) in Tahoe City before our exit back to the city before the evening.

    Sunrise over Emerald Bay on route to Mt. Tallac
    Ray and myself with a view of Lake Tahoe right below Mt. Tallac’s summit

    As the season progressed I continued to find more payoffs from my journey to improved fitness. While traveling to Utah and Japan, my buddy Hokaj and I would consistently be able to access bigger terrain or ski more laps than otherwise possible a year before. I felt less fatigued in general and was able to dial in my fueling strategy to maximize performance. I also got much more comfortable with what gear to choose and how to use it most efficiently during transitions or while eating. However, skiing wasn’t my only ambition. The more I improved my endurance capacity, the more I wanted to challenge myself with bigger and faster outings. Goals that seemed impossibly far away began to feel more tangible by the week. One of these impossible goals was a multisport endurance challenge based out of Jackson, WY. This local rite of passage was ironically named the ‘Jackson Picnic’ to match the underground and casual vibe of the seriously crazy local scene. The challenge started at the center of town with a bike ride to Jenny Lake, approximately 20 miles or so along mostly flat terrain. You’d then need to swim across the ~1.5 mile lake to access a trailhead towards the Grand Teton. After a casual 22 mile round trip up the steep, boulder filled, and extraordinarily technical Grand Teton summit (a 5.4 solo), you’d need to reverse the loop and make it back to town. If you lined up conditions right, you’d also need to finish the loop in under 24 hours in order to make it to the Million Dollar Cowboy Bar before closing. I was not about to risk my life to solo this challenge, but I figured I could test my physical capacity with a backyard challenge of my own.

    View of the bridge coming from Aquatic cove

    Originally my plan was to invite a few friends to join me on my version of the ‘SF Picnic’. We’d aim to complete a similar physical challenge to the Jackson version, while hitting the iconic destinations around SF’s training grounds. But it turns out that most of my friends hated the idea and lining up a group trip quickly became out of reach. So while the ski season was still subpar in March, I set off solo on a random Sunday to finish the goal I set for myself earlier in the Fall. I started off from my apartment near the golden gate park on bike towards Aquatic Cove for the first leg of the journey. I carried a backpack with a wetsuit, towel, and swimming gear so that I could stash my bike at the cove and start off with a swim. I ended up doing two laps in the cove or about 2600 yards (~1.5 miles) in pretty freezing cold water. I then tossed the gear in a bush and headed off on my bike towards Mt. Tam in the Marin Headlands. This bike loop was a bit over 50 miles and finished with about 5000 ft or so of vert at the top of the East peak. I even did a mini trail run to the real summit just to make the experience feel more like the real picnic. The bike took the longest time by far, but I just made sure to constantly fuel up and take things pretty slow. For the most part the whole trip felt pretty type 1 and I was listening to podcasts and music the whole time.

    View of Marin County looking South from Mt. Tam – 35mm film

    Before I knew it I was back at Aquatic Cove to pick up my gear and head back to the Golden Gate Park. There I stashed the bike at my house, changed into running shoes, and began the final leg of my journey. I started off through the park and towards Ocean Beach, beginning a classic bike loop to Twin Peaks on foot. I was jogging relatively slow and was certainly feeling the accumulation of the day at this point. Despite this I knew I wanted to finish strong and did my best to hold pace through the Great Highway and towards the SF Zoo next to Merced Lake. Once I got there I knew the rest of the loop was almost completely uphill. My pace slowed a little bit as I trudged up the hill towards Twin Peaks. Miles 6-10 were the hardest for me and I had to constantly remind myself that I only had about an hour left of my 8+ hour day. At my transition I had chugged quite a lot of water but for now I only carried a few energy gummies to finish off the day. By the time I reached the summit of Twin Peaks I was pretty ecstatic. All I had left was about 2 miles of downhill to my apartment. This went by pretty fast and my legs were almost completely toast when I finally made it to the finish of my 13.1 mile loop (+1000 ft or so). The day ended and wound up being just a bit more than a half ironman worth of swimming, biking, and running. (2600 yards in 58:52, 62.05 miles with 5489 ft in 5:09:26, and 13.16 miles with 1175 ft in 2:29:22). It wasn’t the fastest time ever, but I also didn’t really train for this challenge specifically. It was a great testament to my training to date but wasn’t my end goal in any sense. Really I’m most proud of the fact that I had developed a system of training for myself that has consistently pushed me to do bigger and better outings. Fitness doesn’t just grant capacity for larger objectives, it provides a crucial safety margin in case a schedule in the mountains goes awry. I am much more confident cruising through an approach if I don’t need to worry about granting myself extra time for excessive pacing. With that in mind I don’t really have a particular end in sight for training. In line with legendary Alpinist Vitaliy Musiyenko, I’m hoping to be as fit as my current lifestyle allows such that when the opportunity arrives I can jump right off the couch and into the next badass objective that comes my way.

  • March Rocks, April Pow – ’26 Spring Touring

    March Rocks, April Pow – ’26 Spring Touring

    After a long winter of traveling, my buddy Kyle and I arrived in March to find the Tahoe snowpack in dire condition. In classic Sierra fashion, snowfall had been limited to just three enormous dumps, leaving the rest of the season lacking. The last of the huge storms had blown by the previous week, gifting the locals and the hordes of Bay Area weekend warriors with two great powder days. But it had nearly all been melted by a spike in temps and ill timed rain. Neither of us mentioned this as we met up in Tahoe. Our stoke was endless and we were in search of the one positive left: early spring corn1.

    Alpenglow on Mt. Tallac
    Low tide in the NE trees of Mt. Tallac

    Corn in the Sierras is fickle. The search for it can be even more tricky. First we would need to find large southern aspects. Then our arrival would have to be timed precisely. Too early and the snow would still be frozen from the night before. Too late and the sun would microwave the snowpack into wet slush. Finally once we stepped off the trailhead there would be endless bushwacking. We knew the deal and were willing to pay the corn tax. Our first mission was to a zone unknown to us on Tallac. In winter, we’d skied this route from the standard ascent, the popular NW trees bowl. This new zone was a small bowl on its opposite face. With the extra sunshine we got a relatively late start and began up the access road with little issue. The snowpack was just high enough to skin from the road and it wasn’t long until we found ourselves on the summit. On the way south towards our bowl we even peeked into the ‘cross couloir’2 to see some mountaineers scrambling up. One day it would be awesome to ski this steep, technical line, but it was nowhere near in condition. Pushing on, we found ourselves on top of the bowl overlooking Fallen Leaf Lake. The West Lake Tahoe scenery was spectacular as usual. But the continuous winds and exposed headwall of the bowl proved to kill any chance of corn up high. We still made the best of the first thousand feet or so before getting consolation corn further below.

    View of the Desolation Wilderness from the summit of Mt. Tallac
    View of Lake Tahoe from the summit looking NE
    Top 1000 ft of the South facing bowl

    What we didn’t quite expect was the rapidly approaching bush and treeline down low. The south aspect had much less snow in comparison to the north side we ascended. Kyle and I shouldered the skis and reluctantly began the mile or so bushwack traverse to the north side. The slog through the dense forest served as a subtle foreshadow for the rest of the spring season. We had to hike up steep dirt, plow through dense bush, and transition a handful of times. We made it back to the car with relatively low effort, but it was still a poor showing for the beginning of March. By the time we got back we were already scheming what was next for the following day. Despite the amount of Tahoe terrain with snow, cover was thin and we were focused on maximizing our corn skiing without traveling for endless miles into the backcountry. After some research we landed on three options. We could head way out into the desolation wilderness, stay close by to lap the south facing chutes on Jake’s, or head way south for big terrain in the eastern Sierra. Kyle had just subscribed to the relatively new Sentinel satellite imagery subscription on CalTopo3, which conveniently showed us the snowpack from an ariel perspective. With mapping tools, guidebooks, and recent images from space on hand finding the best terrain felt like cheating. It was then that we spotted a huge 2000 ft south face on the backside of Carson pass in relatively good condition. This area in South Lake and the Kirkwood backcountry was a tad higher elevation than what we had been skiing. It also was only a couple miles from route 88, which makes for a pretty tame approach into our zone.

    Beautifully clear day with a view of Round Top on Carson Pass
    Another day we will ski the Crescent Moon Couloir

    The next morning we were up early once again and started up the skintrack for a bigger day in the backcountry. There were a few people scattered around the main trail on Carson Pass, but we quickly found ourselves alone once we crossed over the Roundtop4 ridgeline. The South Face was our target and dropped off two thousand feet to the valley floor below. Our timing was great and it was about 10:30 in the morning when we dropped in for lap 1. The top 1000 ft this time was spectacular and lead us down a large face before bifurcating into drainages below. The gullies were a tad more involved and required some short downclimbs through rock steps and bushes. Despite this we still made it all the way to the valley on snow and we both thoroughly enjoyed the soft spring corn. After a short break we turned our heads to see the massive sun exposed face looming before us. The goal was now to climb back up and it would surely be a slog. We took turns leading up the face and I struggled to maintain a grip while skinning5 the first few hundred feet. The sun was unrelenting and we kept to the ridges to stay clear of potential rockfall when we could. After about an hour we still had quite a bit of climbing to go and wound up boot packing the top 1200 ft or so.

    South face of Round top on the left, West face on the right
    The south face looked much better from above than below…

    Once we got back to the ridge we were split on the next lap. There were some north facing chutes that had potential, but without knowing the exact conditions we both agreed they were probably too spicy for the day. Instead we opted for the adjacent and massive West facing bowl, which clearly still had corn left intact. Luckily for us, our party lap down this face was a blast. There were tons of small rocks to jump off and the snow was perfect for big and fast turns. We quickly transitioned at the bottom and made a short hike up to the ridgeline around the next peak. By this time it was getting late for any more corn and we opted to made the long traverse back to the trailhead. Although it was still a slog, the area was gorgeous and there were tons of people out exploring this massive zone either skiing or hiking. That afternoon we headed back to the city feeling great. From our perspective it was time for spring in the Sierra to shine and expected lots of corn in our future. Little did I know this would not turn out to be the case just yet.

    West face was much more filled in

    The next couple weekends passed with poor snow and a busy schedule. Then I ran into an unexpected change in pace. I found myself out of work on the third week of March and suddenly wanted to take advantage of the free time with dedicated travel and skiing. I had already planned on taking a trip out to Mammoth with some friends and immediately got on the road. The conditions weren’t ideal but I knew that the Eastern Sierra would always provide. My buddy Devin was the only one willing to explore that weekend and we opted for a local zone after some late night debate on what to ski. Without much knowledge of the area, we began the approach to the Valentine Cirque6 early on Saturday morning. Similarly to Tallac the week prior, we quickly realized the first 1000 ft or so would be on dirt. It was still early so it didn’t really phase us and we trudged through some incredibly annoying melted out terrain. As we got further and further into the zone we continued to cross streams and transition frequently. The usual winter approach led us into a nasty exposed and barren south face downclimb. Devin’s initial carefree attitude began to slowly erode and we couldn’t even see our objective yet. I knew at about 10,000 ft there was going to be great snow and access to a huge cirque with many lines to ski. Before we got there was still another 1000 ft or so of horribly thin terrain below the tree line. And then we arrived at the crux: a half mile of boulder hopping topped with a foot or two of thin snow bridges.

    Incredible sunrise in the Sierra
    Snowpack as of March 21st is in dire shape
    Not a great look for south faces

    The boulder field approach proved to be particularly challenging to cross. Snow bridges would occasionally give way to deep and hidden cracks. I found myself precariously dancing between these snow bridges while desperately trying to minimize transitions. Devin followed behind me and found himself falling much more often into bridges that were weakened by my first crossing. As the minutes progressed, our progress did not advance significantly and Devin was starting to lose patience. If we continued to the cirque we would almost certainly be back to town after dark. At some point during my delusional rampage through the boulders I looked back to see Devin getting frustrated. We then reluctantly decided to head back. Our potential backup was a climb up the nearby ‘Banana’ chute. By the time we arrived at the base, we still faced countless more snow traps and stream crossings on increasingly wet snow. Eventually Devin’s frequent plunges through the thin snow made his left skin fail completely and we both fell into a state of laughter in self pity. The chute was not going to happen and we basically had the worst approach of all time just to hike back out. As we frequently say, this would fall into the ‘high effort, low reward” category of spring skiing. And so we took a few turns on the way out in wet snow before making the long hike out through mostly dirt and forested trails. Despite the horrendous conditions, the story of the day was a hit with the rest of the group and we laughed off the disaster of a tour as an adventure anyway.

    One of many shitty stream crossings
    A broken man
    Devin officially at one skin down

    As the spring progressed I swore off corn skiing until the higher roads of the eastern Sierra allowed for better access up high into the mountains. Skiing was still possible, but would require some pretty gnarly hiking through endless mixed terrain. And so it wasn’t until April that I began to organize the next big trip out east. By this time I was lucky enough to stumble upon a great deal for a camper style truck. My uncle was selling a built out Tacoma with a bed and storage perfect for Sierra dirtbagging. For the first trip I convinced some friends to join me out in Bishop to take advantage of fishing season. ‘Merry Fishmas’ week in particular was a hysterical Bishop tradition coinciding with our journey. It took place around the opening of several access roads to high alpine reservoirs neighboring Aspendell where fish were stoked. While most were there to catch stocked trout, my friends and I would take advantage of trailhead access at 10,000 ft in the high sierra. With the recent funemployment I drove out for the whole week and was prepared to scout terrain as much as possible before the weekend.

    Excellent trip to Moment’s headquarters in Reno
    Reno, NV shot on 35mm film
    Passing through Bridgeport on the way to Mammoth

    To start things off I headed to Tahoe to pick up some new skis and enjoy a rare April storm in the resorts. As abnormally hot and dry March was this year, April seemed to bring a second wind to winter. I was lucky enough to reap some of this new snow during a morning visit to Mammoth mid week. It was the first time using my new Moment Wildcats and I headed directly to chair 23 for the goods. I happened to ride up with two locals who were feeling generous and brought me to the hard-to-find Starr Chute tucked around the Paranoid Flats area. By the time it was my turn I managed to get fourth tracks down this awesome stash of powder. Not only was it the perfect christening for the new twigs, but it also hinted at what April had in store for us this week. After another couple laps with the locals, we departed ways and I headed back to the truck to scope some backcountry lines. First up was Rock Creek, one of the handful of roads that rose to nearly 10,000 ft up in the Eastern Sierra. I had climbed Bear Creek Spire from this drainage the previous fall7 and knew there had to be some incredible terrain back there. As soon as I parked I immediately ran into some locals who spotted my skis out of the trunk. Pointing over to the slopes to the North, they told me of some skin tracks that would lead to a great spring skiing gully. I was solo and only had a couple of hours, so I got a quick move on and eventually found their tracks out to the zone.

    Looking deeper into Rock Creek were endless options for skiing

    I don’t really like touring alone, especially when there is new snow involved. But this time I felt pretty comfortable in the terrain and spotted a cool looking ramp in the distance. I knew that we would be eyeing north facing couloirs this whole week, so this would be a great opportunity to scope out the snowpack in this type of terrain. Unfortunately for me, the snow pack was pretty horrendous. I was at about 11,000 ft or so and the older cold snap had frozen a thick layer of ice beneath the recent storm snow. There was definitely a potential for a slide so I stuck close to the rock wall adjacent to the ramp. Once I finally made it up to the top of the line I scoped out the rest of the canyon. There were plenty of great lines in condition, but all the approaches looked especially heinous this time around. The last thing I wanted was a repeat of the last Mammoth experience. So then it was time to ski down and I started very slow. Standing on a subtle ridgeline I peered into the ramp. I tested the snow with a turn halfway into the ramp a small slab8 immediately broke off and tumbled down the ramp. I knew this was a possibility but it was spooky for being alone and exposed in this zone. Mentally I took note of the poor avalanche conditions and made a quick descent back to the car. One day I’d love to made it back to this canyon for a proper ski adventure but for now I struck it off the list. Next I needed to find a zone that had easy access to high elevation.

    A lone ramp off Rock Creek’s access road
    Looking down the ramp, pre-slide

    The next day I headed south for bishop to do some more scoping. The roads up to North, South, and Sabrina Lakes had just opened for Fishmas and I wanted to peer into each. North Lake was first, but looked like the canyon was pretty flat and dry. It was the highest of the three lakes and had some crazy terrain hidden far into the canyon but was too much for this trip. Instead I headed back to Sabrina in the middle of the fork and took off on the trail with my skis. Again there was some great terrain hidden back into this drainage but I found myself hiking endlessly in my boots. What started on a nice dirt trail eventually became off camber talus that clung to the edge of the lake. Although I could see snow in the distance this slog was quickly depleting my stoke to hike any further down than I needed to. When I finally reached the end of the Lake I was pretty fed up and eyed a small patch of snow on the opposite aspect from me. However, I first needed to cross a rapidly flowing river that emptied into the tail end of the Lake. For about ten minutes I tried desperately to find a good group of rocks to hop over but kept on turning around. Eventually I ripped off the bandaid and took off my boots. I’d have to walk through the shallow exit and dry off my feet as best I could for the way back. At this point it was almost as comically bad of a tour as I had with Devin back in Mammoth.

    The long and dry talus approach of Sabrina Lake
    “Skiing” above Sabrina Lake

    The other side of the drainage wasn’t much better and I bushwhacked straight up the hill for a meager 7 or 8 turns. Similar to Rock Creek, this area was kind of a dud for quick access to the high alpine. There was one lake left and I only had time that night for a quick excursion. As soon as I pulled into the South Lake trailhead I knew it had potential. From a little rock outcropping near the parking lot I could scope out the area with nearly 360 deg views. To the left was the strikingly prominent Mt. Hurd. It’s obvious North face looked like it was only a mile or two from the parking lot despite towering above the lake below. A few others had skied it in what looked like incredible style: just a handful of turns screaming down the fall line. To the right was a massive bowl sitting in front of Mt. Gilbert. Most of these peaks were about 13,000 ft and the approach started off with what looked like a reasonable trail. The most obvious line was a short north facing couloir hanging at the col of Mt. Gilbert. Given the ski tracks nearby and high elevation I knew this is what we needed to ski the next day.

    The prominent Mt. Hurd
    A large alpine bowl above South Lake, centered is our short north facing chute

    That night my buddy Cam arrived and we discussed the objective a bit further. The original idea of this trip was to snow camp, but we didn’t get quite enough people on board due to the cold and windy conditions. Instead we’d get up for a reasonably early start and make a day trip to the Gilbert col chute we saw from the trailhead. Thankfully I was right about the trail and it was only about a half mile until we could put on our skis. The skin track wasn’t perfect and we did need to transition a few times. But this was a breeze compared to the last few missions I’ve been on and could not complain. Soon enough we hiked up the first bowl and could clearly see people had been here recently. Down low there was only a dusting of snow from the last storm but it slowly creeped up in depth. Once we made it to about 12,000 ft it was also more clear that the old snow had not fully thawed in the warmer weeks of March. This transition point was a stark contrast to the sketchy ice layer I experienced in Rock Creek. As we continued up the bowl we became increasingly confident of snow conditions and were rapidly approaching the couloir. When we finally got to its base we took a quick break and got ready to boot pack. At this elevation there was a ton of new snow. This natural chute collected a ton of snow and was probably about 40 deg or so in slope angle.

    Cam skiing above South Lake
    Looking up into the Alpine Bowl North of Gilbert

    I took the first turn breaking trail and immediately realized this hike would be quite the slog. The snow was deep enough that gaining purchase for each step felt almost impossible. I would try to kick hard into the snow for traction but fall back to where I started if I bared any weight on the surface. With enough effort I could eventually get this technique to work and it made for very slow progress. Cam switched on after about a hundred feet or so and tried to dig out the snow ahead of him before each step. Either way was difficult and the gradually steepening terrain made for some disheartening climbing. After about 45 mins of high effort steps we finally neared the top of the couloir. It was pretty clear from our snow wallowing that the snowpack was solid. The new snow had no discernible discontinuity to that below it and temps remained quite low. Still I was pretty terrified standing at the top and looking at the runout below. My thought was to make a large snowcut at the convex rollover near the top then point the skis downhill and commit. Some thoughtful moments later and I made my way down. As soon as I made the first turn all my fears vanished away and I made some incredible turns on the way down. The slope was perfect for those big arching turns without any hesitation or speed checks on the way down. It almost felt like Starr Chute in Mammoth if it had better a bit longer and steeper. By the time I reached the apron I was hooting and hollering. We just got an incredibly lucky window in the middle of April to ski the steeps in perfect conditions. Cam followed next and styled the line as usual.

    Snow wallowing our way up the chute
    Stoke levels were high after the descent

    I was very tempted for a second lap, but we knew there was a small storm coming in that evening and weren’t prepared for another snow wallowing session with the time left in the day. Instead we took a fantastic descent through the series of huge snow bowls leading back to our initial skin track. The next day, Sunday, would be our last and luckily we had some snow forecasted through the night. My buddy Trevor was also in the area and was down to join us for some mellow powder laps. We woke up the next morning and geared up at the same trailhead as the day before. This time we were joined by a couple of locals who were also seeking to reap the powder from the night before. This time around we were not looking for anything crazy and opted to step into the same area as the day before. With some wind loaded and fresh snow, the options were pretty limited and we wound up staying in pretty low angle terrain at the base of the drainage. Although it wasn’t going to be the same epic descent as the day prior, we had a great crew and were ready to make the best out of the conditions. In all we wound up making three laps in this area and all got some great turns in. The new snow was probably only a few inches deep in this area but skied great. For me it felt like icing on the cake from a wild week of exploration in new terrain. I felt much more comfortable navigating this area and making the right call for the day. Next year when the opportunity rises I’ll be prepared to jump back into this terrain for some bigger objectives. The possibilities out in Bishop and the Eastern Sierra are endless and the best way I’ve found to take advantage is to simply ski as much as possible. Despite the number of days this year where I’ve found myself bushwhacking, crossing rivers, navigating heinous talus or boulder fields, I will never get tired of seeking out more terrain deep in the heart of the Sierras.

    Skinning back up to the bowl
    Neat and tidy laps in pow
    Mandatory group selfie on the exit lap
    1. “Corn” – soft spring snow that forms little balls which look like corn ↩︎
    2. The Cross Couloir is a prominent and steep chute directly below Mt. Tallac’s North Face ↩︎
    3. CalTopo is a navigation app that allows recent imagery of snowpack conditions through the Sentinel Satellite constellation ↩︎
    4. Prominent Carson Pass peak ↩︎
    5. “Skinning” – Ski touring involves walking up a slope with free heels and tractive, removable “skins” at the base of one’s skis ↩︎
    6. Mammoth backcountry zone ↩︎
    7. Bear Creek Spire Trip Report ↩︎
    8. “Storm Slab Avalanche” – Recent snow slides off old snow if consistency is mismatched ↩︎