The Hotlum-Wintun Ridge — Page 3

Dawn Patrol

1. Soul Skier's Paradise
2. Scouting the Ridge
3. Dawn Patrol
4. A Race to the Summit
5. Descent

Wanting to preserve as big a descent as possible, I'd camped low—around 8500 feet. Consequently, I set my Casio's alarm for a very early 4:30 a.m. start.

I was excited to be underway.

However, as I scanned the predawn sky, I saw disturbing patterned clouds glowing in the moonlight. It appeared a substantial flow of moisture had ridden in from the south.

Monsoon moisture.

I wished I'd camped higher, or gotten an even earlier start.

Hopefully, I was misreading the weather.

But I was definitely even at this early hour, I feared I would soon be racing thunderstorms to the summit.

Skinning in the darkness was a serene, calming experience.

Since I'd coincidentally chosen a full moon for my ascent, the terrain remained bright enough for me to see without using a headlamp.

The snow was softer than I would have preferred, but I expected it would harden as I climbed higher.

In the backcountry, you're always in a race against the sun.

The snow is at its most stable in the early morning. As the day warms, snow melts; rocks loosen.

Snow, however, seems to make its own weather, solidifying—sometimes—overnight even when the temperatures don't freeze. At Matterhorn peak, for example, I measured the overnight low at base camp in the fifties, yet the snow had all the crunch you'd expect of a hard freeze.

Obviously, there is a complicated interaction between wind, humidity, temperature, and the composition of the snow pack. Learning to listen to the sound of crampons, boots, or skis on snow can teach you a lot about its stability.

I stop, switch to crampons, and put my skis on my back.

The security of crampons makes it possible to travel fast: on hard snow, a boot-hiking climber can easily outrace a skier on skins, because crampons allow you to head directly up the hill, rather than zig-zagging up.

Crampons aren't without their problems, however. First of all, you have to learn how to use them, how to swing your legs, ever mindful of not catching the sharp points. And may the gods pity you if the snow softens and you start to post-hole. Efficiency goes out the window then, and the skis on your back grow heavier with each labored step.

As the sky begins to glow with the approaching dawn, I reach the start of the true ridge line. The angle is quite moderate here, and I know I ought to switch back over to skins. I'm alarmed by the sky, however.

To my eyes, the air is loaded with monsoon moisture, a sight I'm well familiar with. I'm motivated to keep going, unwilling to give up even the ten or so minutes it would take to change gear. I decide I'll conduct an experiment: a test of crampons' speed and efficiency. The snow still isn't as hard as I would like, but it's clearly solid. I'm not sinking in it. And with that, dawn arrives, setting the eastern horizon ablaze with light.

Next: A Race to the Summit »